by Travis Borne
“Didn’t you learn about these while aboard that ship?” Jim asked, as Jon scrutinized the panels and instruments of the room.
Jon explained that Herald had changed, that once he had considered him a best friend, and although he still felt that way, the feeling wasn’t mutual. Herald had become a man of secrets and even Jon wasn’t allowed within his small circle: what he sometimes referred to as the deep recesses of his mind, the pit of infinite knowledge. And since the last day he’d seen Herald, only Ana and Q were allowed admittance to that trust.
“There must be a reader somewhere,” Jon said quietly. He walked around the entire broadcast room inspecting the systems—but nothing could be found matching his suspicions. And neither of the three had a clue what to do with either of the items; nor Ron, nor Devon, and they found themselves near the HAT discussing possibilities.
Meanwhile, four lenders mounted the beds, others prepped, others cleaned house. Ron and Devon returned to their stations and easily got things back on track. After six lenders successfully logged in the status began to rise, and quickly. Ted instructed the others to help clean and repair the facility, quietly; the lenders were not to be interrupted. Big Bertha did much of the heavy lifting, with minimal grunting. She put things back into the storage room and stretching area—items that had been used to barricade the door against the onslaught of drones. Others went into the hall and outside; sweeping and shoveling began. There were seemingly endless piles, dead wasps, as if the lasers had been bug spray. Remnants were placed in categorized piles inside the large bay; perhaps, as Ted suggested, they would come in handy later, for parts.
People able to stomach the dirty work handled the dead. At least thirty never made it into the safe room. Their bodies were nearly indistinguishable; red, gruesome, a murder scene—all an understatement. The carnage was a direct hit to the Swiss-cheese, outer-bay door, as if thirty people had been stuffed into a large balloon doing ninety. Too, as if a Gatling gun had enjoyed its fancy on the result, as well the entire inner perimeter was full of holes.
Ted took a stool. The screens wrapping the large BROCC area displayed everything inside and out in clear 3D definition.
“Maybe in the control room?” Jim asked, snagging Ted’s attention from the screens. Jim noticed who it was. Ted was locked on to the sight of an old friend, what was left of him, being carried away.
“Control room?” Jon queried.
“The brains of this operation, and security,” Ted specified.
Jim realized thus far, Jon knew far less than he thought he would. He had figured Jon would know just about everything regarding this facility. “Ted, we’ll be back,” he said. “We’re heading over with Rico to see if we can activate this key. Let’s go, Jon.”
Ted nodded, distracted still. Jim knew what was disturbing him: it was everything, he was getting it just like he had been since first logging in with Amy. Likely the whole town felt the same. Minds twisting, instincts bending—gay, not gay, gay, what the fuck. Jim knew their imaginations, their entire mindsets were flopping like a fish out of water, back and forth—the purple status ZAP.
They passed Young Doc in the hall. Along with security personnel Tim and Mitch, the three were carrying the bloody it away from the control room. David. The perfidious traitor who had caused all of this was a mishmash; more mash than mish. His face bloody, arm and cheekbone broken, throat bleeding, teeth missing, yet the body was alive. It was obvious the prick was getting a resurgence of pain to accompany his sobriety, and it was making him whine like a baby.
Continuing on, they rounded the curved hall, dodging large and small battered drones and climbing over debris, then neared the end: the control room.
“Rico, it’s me, Jim. Can you buzz us in?” What was left of the door, opened. As they entered, Rico was somberly looking at the destruction on various screens. He lifted his head.
“I hope we made the right choice, Jim,” Rico said. “We were offered everything and now we’re back, here, stuck forever. The town is a total loss, the gardens are a bonfire, the lake is empty…”
But Jim felt it too, the elation from the purple-status ZAP was fading like the end of a good beer buzz. A weight in his stomach, gravity tugging it into his lower intestines, and a shit brewing—the situation they’d gotten themselves inexorably wedged into. He said earnestly, “We mustn’t despair, Rico. We are going to pull this off, and now—” He reached into both pockets this time. “—we have these.” Jim held up the key card and fumbled in his other pocket, trying to pull out the sphere. With a grin he continued, “And I’m anxious as hell to see what they—”
“Over here!” Jon exclaimed, before Jim could pull out the sphere. Jon had been walking around, inspecting again while Rico sat hunched over his panel, being consoled by Jim. Jon knew exactly what a reader looked like, and there it was! “Exactly like the ones from Meddlinn. Jim, put the key on this, face up.”
Disregarding the sphere for now, Jim snapped around and headed over. Rico dizzily wobbled, then joined them. The reader was the last gadget on the far right panel, below a bloody dent in the wall: where Abell had freight-train’d David.
“I never knew what that was,” Rico said. And Jim placed the card on top of the gray square pad.
Nothing happened.
“Ah, fuck,” Jim said, “like that damn freezer, isn’t it, Rico?”
Rico agreed, “You read my mind. More puzzles.”
The three looked to each other, stumped. Rico thought about the switch in the stinky freezer, how the door needed to be closed in order for the panel to activate, and he looked around. The once solid door was trashed and could barely slide into the wall. The room was a disaster. Supplies that had been stacked to reinforce the door were all over the place, dried blood was gobbed on the walls and rear control panel. He turned to see the blood once again; Jon noticed his gaze.
“Right, that’s it!” Jon said, and he took off his backpack then knelt down.
“What?”
“It’s all about DNA. I saw this on some of the ships with Herald, although on most we only had to touch the panel. But some of the older ones needed blood.”
Jim said, “You know, Jon, we need to have a long talk after this.”
“We will, Jim. But I only observed, and from a distance. They had me in a state of sleep for many years to repair the damage that had been done to my body from the drone attack at our cave. So, I don’t know much—and as I already said, Herald had become more secretive than ever; that’s why I’ve aged less than he. Except for Ana and Q—and possibly Amy, yet in a different way—Herald doesn’t tell just anyone anything. There’s also very few alien beings he would communicate with, one from each of only a few very select clans—” Jon kept digging into his pack. “—so as far as he’s concerned, we’ll have to figure this out. But I think…” Jon stood up with a small gadget.
Jon pressed a button on the item he’d retrieved; a blade popped out. Just a knife. He looked at the two staring at him, then at his hand, and proceeded to slide the knife across his finger; his face concocted a squint while a large drop of blood fell onto the reader. The drip plummeted for a second that could’ve been a new universe getting compacted. Then it hit. Instantly every screen in the room, as well as the hologram table, went bright red. One after another, they went dark, then re-lit as if a countdown had been started.
They were all thinking it. No longer were they mere sheep. They were back! Smart, intelligent, but mostly, creative and imaginative. As if it was a talisman, Jon handed the knife to Jim. Jim slid it across his finger—without so much as a flinch—and put too, his blood on the reader. The screens went fluorescent yellow, making the three squeeze their eyes tight, then again, black. And Jim handed the knife to Rico. Rico shook his head slowly, but ultimately did the same, tightening at the pain. As Rico’s blood hit the reader the screens went bright green—and then again faded into darkness.
Blinded by the extreme, ridiculous brightness, it took a few seconds unt
il their eyes adjusted. Then, something. The smaller hologram table of the control room became enswirled with a sparkling shamrock-green. The show coalesced in the center, getting smaller. An orb, and it looked like—
“A fucking pear?” Jim blurted.
Jon hushed him, uttering, “Just wait for it, Jim,” and his eyes went wide; he recognized the image for sure. Just like that of Herald’s screen in the lab; it was similar to the brain he saw when Herald had worked on the blocker code, using the custom back-end of his system in his lab; a memory of Herald playing it like a mad, possessed orchestrator assaulted his mind.
The pear, or orb, or brain, morphed, then shrank to the size of a teacher’s globe and hovered oblong in the center of the HAT. Option tabs appeared on the edges, spiraling around and up as cascading tiers.
“It’s all there,” Rico said. “Look, there’s the dream-map coding! And there’s a wall diagram, with settings for it. And I’d bet this is a more complete schematic!”
Jim remembered the locked sections of the wall diagram, when they were planing to head to the fusion room. A gust of a thought flew through his mind: Nelman.
The tabs fluttered like dominoes, up and around the spiral.
“It’s ready for your choice, Jim,” Jon said, looking to him foremost. The three looked at each other, acknowledging…
Do it. Do it, Jim.
The first option tab on the spiral, on the side closer to Jim, read simply: INTRO. They marveled at the table as if it was a crystal ball, magical secrets finally being exposed, a new dimension and a new beginning. Jim reached in. The energy of the hologram banded his arm with bright teal static. Like a novice playing it safe, Jim pressed the button on the first tab.
The glowing orb sizzled and the tabs fell away like flitting birds. The shape distorted like bright-green putty and morphed into a head. Then it spoke. “Hello.”
3. Marlo
“I never thought this day would come,” said the green glowing mannequin head. “I’ve been with you for so many years, Rico. And hello, Jim. Jon, I caught your name, but we haven’t been properly introduced. Well, I assume none of us have.”
“Who—are you?” Rico asked, enthralled.
“Rico, I’ve been with you since the beginning, when you were much younger than you are now, and, your father—my condolences regarding his passing. I tried my very best that day, but like today the machines were an overwhelming force. My name is Marlo and I, am the system. I control all systems in this facility and the wall. I have full control over everything, the outer ships, the wall lasers, the dream-world maps, every…well, almost everything.”
Jon didn’t look as surprised as Jim and Rico, but the three stood around the HAT in awe of the featureless face floating within. A step above being just a pear, Marlo portrayed merely a plain head, which soon began to change. His features morphed before their eyes, into that of an old wizard. He quickly possessed a smooth satin hood that flowed into a black robe. Its edges had three-inch linings of glistening Persian-blue fabric embellished with embroidered symbols and stars. His white, thick beard was gray on the edges and faded into the bottom of the smoky hologram. Above wise but narrow and squinting eyes, his eyebrows were bushes. And to top it all off Marlo held a staff that appeared to contain a universe floating atop it, like a grand sparkler.
“What—a wizard?” Jim asked.
“I’ve seen these in Herald’s ship, but never containing a wizard.”
“This is the manifestation I have chosen and inside my world I fit in just fine. Take a look.” The billowy smoke around Marlo dissipated and the rest of his body made itself visible. The viewpoint shifted and a vast world appeared. It was another universe, perhaps an alternate one—or more likely, just his personal dream-world map: a desert landscape with distant red canyons and starry skies beyond stretchy clouds. An ablaze planet-sized moon filled the heavens, as well there were smaller, rocky moons. To the right were rolling grassy fields, and to the left, a castle perched high on a hilltop. “This is the map, the world in which I exist. Of course, I must have a land in which to roam, wouldn’t you agree? A place in which to, dream. All intelligent machines, not unlike humans, have dreams. And because I have control over the systems, my world has its own rules. It really is a fabulous place and I hope you will join me soon, now that the three of you possess control.”
“We have control over the system—you, now?” Jim asked.
“Well, I am my own being, so you won’t have any control over me, no different to how I am not able to make your decisions for you. Really, it is us, and now the four of us, like a team, have control over this system. My orders had been to remain hidden from you and I could not deny them, but I have always been here. And now that you have entered the key, along with your natural and unmodified human DNA, I can make myself known. And what was once locked, undisclosed to you—well, what’s mine is also yours. You must have done something very special to get the key, or else…”
“So, where do we go from here?” Jon asked.
“We? Go?” Marlo queried. “We do not go anywhere. My programing hasn’t changed—I am here to protect the city and that is what I will continue to do. Unless…will there be new orders? Although, I would suggest we repair the wall at once.”
“How in the hell are we supposed to do that?” Jim asked. “The damn thing looks like a fifty-foot bowling ball struck it. It would take us a decade to fix it—if we had the tools.”
“The builders, but of course. Take a look.” Marlo disappeared and the wall schematic loaded, and as Rico guessed, it wasn’t as simple as the one they had been able to access. There was more, a whole lot more. The schematic filled the entire six-foot, semi-spherical holographic display. The builders were shown as large robots highlighted in a white glow, and they were—right inside the wall, next to the facility! “It is okay, sirs, you may want to go outside and take a look. I’ll hold down the fort as I have always done. It seems someone has decided you are no longer sheep, so, go take a gander at your new tools. You have unlimited say in what they can do—well, we do, again it is the four of us in charge.”
The three took a jaw-dangling look at one another then bolted outside.
Lenders and security were about the halls sweeping and cleaning. They darted past without a word. Dashing out of the bay, they could hear the loud crack. The Docs were tending to the bodies outside the fully open bay door, but had their attention stolen quickly—all did; the town froze. Jim, followed by Jon and Rico, pushed through and then slowed, taking steps that seemed to tug on his lower jaw like amplified gravity waves. He stopped in amazement along with the rest of the crowd which soon made a horseshoe around the spectacle.
To the left, the inner wall aside the bulging facility opened slowly. Standing amid the smoldering trees that once provided the facility obscurity, all witnessed a thirty-foot-tall bottom section eject outward. The massive chunk stopped, then grindingly slid upward revealing a large, deep and dark chamber. Yellow lights clicked on. Robots! There had to be at least a hundred. All were shiny, black, and at least a foot taller than the quite tall Mr. Rob Price. Green glowing eyes activated in no particular order. Bulky and round at their center, they had no defined necks and wore hefty packs that melded with their form. They formed many rows and just—stood there. Then, one stepped forward.
Jon recognized them instantly, and to him it was very old technology compared to some of the things he’d seen on his journey throughout the universe with Herald—he’d only been consciously awake for less than a year in total. But Jon knew, the builders were a force to be reckoned with. One of Herald’s, and Rafael’s, greatest achievements. Possessing immense strength, they could form a ball and roll at high speeds, and most importantly, they could build, construct on a massive scale, or even, if ordered to do so, destroy. A welcome sight, they’d surely come in handy on their mission to rescue the others, but first—fix the wall.
Like a leader, Jim stepped forward among the stiff and gaping townspeople. He wa
lked right up to the single builder who had moved and said, “Hi. I’m Jim.” For lack of experience with machines in this manner, his mouth stumbled, and his mind stuttered at the sheer size of the bot before him. But he felt no fear, for the green glow piercing the machine’s visor was friendly and welcoming.
“Jim,” the builder said in a deep robotic voice. It had the slightest hint of a Russian accent. “It has been a long, long time. My internal timer says—twenty years have passed. My name is Valdus, but you may call me Vlad for short. Behind me is the rest of my team, and we are at your command.”
“We need to fix the wall. A large ship crashed into it. Can you—”
“Can we, sir? Ha, ha, ha!” Vlad laughed a low, deep chuckle. “Jim, that is what we were made for. We built this entire city in only seven days. Now please, step aside and we will get started right away.” Vlad flicked two fingers, and Jim surely stepped aside.
What came next, everyone felt. All of the builders activated and took a step forward in unison, then another. As if a thunderous attack had returned, the ground trembled. Several transformed into a ball and peeled away, thunderously rolling in various directions; most followed Rim Road, the shortest path to the most destruction. Others went running, each footfall deeply stamping the earth. They grabbed huge chunks of metal from the scrap pile, a car-sized handful each, and ran with it. The final rows to exit the now brightly lit chamber about-faced as soon as daylight grazed them. Cables ejected from their packs like rockets and grappled the top of the great wall. Twenty-five builders zipped up the wall at high speeds. When they made it to the top they took off running in both directions, leaping over the force-field generators in a single bound. The freight train was back and the rumbling could be felt everywhere. A constant tremor shook the city. Those dragging charred bodies to graves stopped. Those cleaning about town central halted. All watched as the marvelous machines took to the wall. There would be no sleeping outside the facility tonight: the sounds were crashing, clashing, thunderously loud, and resounded within the wall. And all through the day the builders worked, and all through the night. And the bonging and crushing and welding permeated the dreams of all.
