Eden's Jester

by Ty Beltramo

  “Hey, stop right there. Make your own drawing. I’m trying to think here,” I said.

  In response, he drew a picture directly adjacent to mine. Then another, then another. He kept drawing until there were several images, my sloppy one in the center with four perfect ones surrounding it.

  It was a complex of complexes, just as the pyramids were pyramids of pyramids.

  That gave me an idea.

  “Tool, why did you stop building?” I asked.

  “Because it is finished,” he said.

  Maybe, maybe not. I figured I’d swing for the fence. “It is not finished, Tool.”

  He looked alarmed, then curious, then stumped. Then, “It is finished,” was all he said.

  “Look, Tool.” I pointed to the picture in the middle. “This is what you’ve built. Those things there.” He grimaced. “Okay, okay. Mine isn’t very good. I get it.” I then drew a box around each of the five drawings. “Look familiar?” I asked.

  It was a repeating fractal pattern where smaller groups of five combined to form a larger group of five, and that pattern could expand forever.

  “And when this is done, you can make five more of these larger complexes.” I said.

  He looked at the drawing, thought for a moment, and passed out.

  Oh crap. Ten minutes in the place and I’ve already killed the smartest guy here. Why does this keep happening to me?

  I bent over and checked for any sign of life. I could find none, but who is to say what kind of vital signs robots have? I smacked him on the cheek a few times and said his name loudly in his ear. Nothing. I looked around for help, but no one seemed the least interested.

  I looked to see if Tool’s soul showed any signs of moving on. It was still there, but had changed. Before, the lattice was vibrant and pulsing in its naturally mechanical fashion. Now the pulses looked like a nuclear reactor about to go postal. I stepped back, pretty sure that it wasn’t healthy to stand so close to a nuclear soul. Then, Tool sat up and looked around. I guess he had rebooted.

  He saw me and began to beam. “It is not finished. We are not finished.” he looked up at me. “Elson.”

  Tool called to several others and showed them the picture and explained. Within minutes, Builders were dropping like flies. Then, like Tool, they recovered and scurried about in a frenzy of activity. Shovels, picks, and chisels were passed out. Everyone got busy.

  They began to sing. Their voices thundered with strength and industry. They were at work, and it was good.

  I watched for a while, fascinated by how quickly they organized and mobilized. They were like ants: each knowing his place and performing his part to make the whole successful. There were no arguments, no intrigues. They were one with their purpose. They were happy. And though their lives and ambitions were simple and forever limited, I could not help but feel that this was right.

  I turned to go and found myself face to face with Tool and two other Builders. One stepped forward and spoke.

  “You are Elson. We build this next ‘complex,’” he worked the word with some difficulty, “for you. Work well, Elson.”

  They bowed deeply, and then returned to the building site. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that, where I come from, these kinds of complexes were tombs.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I returned to Melanthios’s thread and began to surf its length, heading for home. Soon the barren pyramid world was gone, replaced by blackness.

  Stars and huge gaseous nebula surrounded me in every direction. I knew this place--the astral plane. It wasn’t exactly outer space, but it was similar. Where outer space was filled with vast empty spaces and gigantic galaxies, the astral plane was the micro-analogy. It was what the space between atoms--inner space. Those not familiar with astral travel could easily mistake it for the vastness of outer space. I always thought it was ironic how the infinitesimally small was nearly indistinguishable from the infinitely large, from the right vantage point.

  Something nagged at the back of my mind, that there was a secret to be unraveled here. Something just beyond reach called out, promising at last to provide a missing piece of some puzzle. But I had a friend to spring from prison. Whatever it was would have to wait.

  I could have hopped off and found my way home from here. But there was something deeply satisfying about being delivered back to the material plane courtesy of Melanthios.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You look like you’ve been pulled through a knot-hole or two. You okay?” Jill asked.

  Her eyes glinted with a mirth matching her smile. Whatever was funny about my appearance escaped me. Her mock concern reminded me of someone greeting a friend at the finish line of a marathon--while the achievement was admirable, the comedy of suffering was better.

  “Being jammed through a knot-hole with a sharp stick would have been better,” I said. There was no shower that would wash off the dusty grime left by Legion.

  “Really.” She pushed a drink toward me. It was too large to be an espresso though right about now I wouldn’t have minded one that large.

  “What’s this?”

  “Vanilla latte. The drink of champions. Trust me.” she said.

  “The drink of champions, huh? I doubt it.” I took the large cup and sipped. It was marvelous. I smiled and weakly raised the cup to her.

  The television in the upper corner of the room was playing the national news, as usual. Some disaster had engulfed a small town in the midwest and the National Guard had been dispatched to clean things up. I sipped and listened.

  “ . . . authorities are attempting to talk several remaining families into putting down their firearms and evacuating the area. They have barricaded their homes and refuse to allow guardsmen to provide any assistance, saying they’re not coming out until ‘they’ are gone. Who ‘they’ are is still unclear. It appears that the townspeople have been holed up in their homes for several days, fighting an as yet unknown threat.

  “Captain Hoganmueller, in charge of the local evacuation, went on to say the remoteness of the town contributed to the delay in help arriving. What caused the townspeople to feel the need to defend themselves with guns and barricades has yet to be determined . . .”

  It sounded like the aftermath of some bad horror movie.

  I watched Jill wipe clean the chalkboard behind the counter. She began to write today’s specials. The chalk shrieked with each stroke. My ears ached at the abuse.

  The center of the board simply read, “Great Coffee Comes Through Great Responsibility.” In smaller letters on the left, she wrote, “Shared Planet.” On the right, “100% responsibly grown and ethically traded.” Down the center she listed several obscure and exotic coffees, mostly from places in South America that probably don’t exist.

  Once finished, she slapped the chalk-dust from her hands and stepped back to admire the board. Happy with the message, she looked at her watch, then came over to me.

  “The sun’s coming up,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s going to be one heck of a sunrise today. I know how you love the morning. But you’d better hurry, or you’ll miss it.” She smiled and walked away.

  I looked out the window and could see the sky brightening with the dawn. I felt like it had been a long time since I had enjoyed the color of the sun. But I was in no mood.

  “Go, Elson!” Jill called from the back of the shop. All right. I can take a hint.

  I left Jill and the coffee shop, working my way through the gravel pits to my favorite sunrise perch. No one else comes here. It’s private property and the mining company has a decisive lack of humor when it comes to trespassing.

  I approached a grassy hilltop in the area the gravel company calls the North Plant. Craters and litter-covered mounds proved these mines were active. Huge pieces of rubble and large holes dotted the landscape like some berserk god had thrown a fit. But the grass was green and there were many small man-made ponds there. With the exception of the rare tractor passing
by, the place was deserted. It was a very pleasant scene.

  Sunrise is my favorite time. I love the colors and the feeling of the world waking up. It’s interesting that, if you were to take the colors of any sunrise and put them on some clothing, you’d be a fashion pariah. But in the sky, color seems to have magical properties. The colors of a sunrise always match. Sunset is the same. It’s almost as if a divine artist were saying to the world, “Look, I can make art that you can’t.”

  I didn’t think anyone would be looking for me, so returning to my normal routine wouldn’t be a risk. Aeson would never believe I could escape without his direct intervention. He was going to be surprised. I almost wanted to pop in and say, “Hi, sorry that I couldn’t disappear for eternity, but, you know, I’ve got stuff to do.” Until I knew more about whatever he was packing, I’d be staying clear of his strongholds.

  Something Aeson had said nagged me, and got me thinking about horror--well, horror movies, in any case. People loved to be scared. What made them most afraid revealed much about them. To know what really scares people, pay attention to Hollywood. It works hard to make money by scaring people. The movies that scared--I mean really scared--a generation were movies about the undead: zombies and vampires. Vampires reminded me a lot of Aeson’s fluffy pet. I had the vague sense that Fluffy would be busy loose in Hong Kong, but that would have to wait. The zombie movies had something that was more familiar. There was something about them that reminded me of what Aeson had said at the Gathering. I had seen lots of zombie movies. The truly scary ones had some common elements: society breaks down and small groups of people are on their own, fighting the unknown and incompressible forces of evil. When people can group together and organize the fear goes away. And here comes a horror-loving Aeson, promising a better world by breaking a society up into smaller more vulnerable units. A bit too coincidental.

  As the sun crept above the horizon, I felt its warmth wash through me. After my stint in the Abyss, such pleasures felt richer, and more necessary. I breathed in the glow of the moment and made for my favorite hilltop to enjoy the morning and devise my next step.

  But, of course, it wasn’t long before the morning was ruined.

  Just as I was about to take a seat, the deep boom-boom of a giant bass drum crested the hilltop in waves of erratic energy. Someone was making quite a ruckus.

  A ruckus I hadn’t started.

  It wasn’t hard to spot. A cloud of dust rose above a nearby ridge. I climbed to the top to see what was happening in the ravine below. Swirling and pluming dust devils obscured my vision. I could make out several figures at the base of the ravine. The ground heaved like someone shaking dirt from a rug. The minor earthquake was immediately followed by a percussion that caused my latte to explode in my hand.

  That was it.

  I reached out and commanded the dust particles in the air to dissolve, releasing their energy into the ambient fields, allowing me to see. What I saw caused me to immediately reclaim all the released energy as if I had inhaled it. The infusion of strength caused the world to slow. The details of the ravine sharpened. I had never drawn so much energy at one time. The deadness of the Abyss had left me a little off balance. I struggled to contain the energy.

  Three of the largest Engineers I’d ever seen stood below me. They had to be at least nine feet tall. Each wore what looked like a military uniform. Their hair was long and pulled up into top-knots. Their skin was cadaver-like.

  They surrounded something lying on the ground. I couldn’t see what.

  Each raised an arm. Cables of energy snapped out of the air and into their hands. They whipped whatever or whomever they had at their feet. The Engineers grunted as they pulled the cords tight and released them. The cables became fiery snakes and coiled their victim. They raised their arms again.

  I took a few steps to my left in order to see what was bound at their feet.

  It appeared to be a statue of a man, made by the most skilled Greek sculptor. Its skin was of polished red granite, which made its bald head look like a mighty cue-ball.

  It had fallen on its stomach with its hands and feet bound by the bright cables. The creature heaved mightily in an attempt to free itself. The earth shook again, this time with less effect. The creature was weakening.

  It raised its head and challenged the smirking Engineers with a look of defiance so pure and true that were the creature not trapped I’d have feared for the safety of the three.

  One of the Engineers formed another cable of energy and used it to lash the back of the fallen creature before wrapping it around the stone man’s neck. Pain and fear flashed across the creature’s face. I heard a chuckle come from one of the three.

  Before my conscious self could stop it, that little voice deep down inside went berserk and screamed a psychic blast with all its strength. It was fearfully similar to the attacks made by Legion: knife-like, designed to dissect and disembowel. The energy from the dust still inside me blew forth in a great shower of psychic scalpels that shook the ravine walls. The wind of my anger erupted upon the three, taking them by surprise. Two went rigid and fell to the ground, seizing. That was interesting. I had never seen that before. The third staggered, but was able to raise a defense against further attack.

  I was drained but struggled to hide it. I knew it was unwise to show signs of weakness. I had no doubt that the remaining Engineer could crush me. But there was no going back now. That little voice had made sure of that.

  The Engineer looked at his cohorts, white foam bubbling from their lips. He then turned to me. His surprise was quickly replaced with anger. His eyes changed from a dull creamy glow to an intense blue.

  “Who are you, and by what right do you interfere with this lawful acquisition?” he asked.

  “I’m Elson. And, in case you haven’t heard, I don’t care.”

  He stood tall, and climbed the ridge toward me. “Servant of Chaos, you have committed a great crime. Surrender yourself and stand judgment.” His voice was deep and full of certainty.

  This guy was obviously tough. I had never heard of any Engineers like him, or at least of any who dressed like him. He exuded strength and confidence. Any sane person wouldn’t make the situation worse.

  “Klaatu . . .barada . . . nikto,” I said.

  His bulk towered above me as he came close, glowering all the way. “I do not know these words that you speak, but I sense that you mock me. You would be wise to submit to my authority and surrender your freedom.”

  He obviously didn’t know me at all.

  “Listen, Jumbo. The only reason I don’t lobotomize you along with your minions is so you can carry their filthy carcasses out of my gravel pit. This is my town. You come back here, and I’ll finish you. Your mind will be so broken that all you’ll be good for is digging ditches under the Great Wall of China--just like your friends. You get me?”

  He studied me for a moment, not sure of what he was dealing with. He surveyed the scene, including his prisoner, and thought it over. The statistics of current events supported my claim of great power. In the end, he chose the better part of valor.

  “Very well, Elson. I shall remember you. By the Preceptors, justice will be done.”

  I doubted that. “Whatever you say, Jumbo. Now, get out,” I said.

  He moved to gather his friends. Their bodies, sick with seizures, dissipated as he removed their broken souls.

  When he turned to his prisoner, I said, “Hold it, pal. The stone guy stays. Leave him be.”

  “Elson.” My name didn’t sound so good the way he said it, “This is a lawful acquisition. The services of this creature are needed. I shall take it.”

  “It doesn’t look like it wants to go. Leave him be.”

  “It is lawful to take it.”

  “Is he a criminal?” I asked.

  “No. His services are needed.”

  “Ok, Jumbo. Let me explain this to you. I’ll talk slowly so you can understand. Slavery isn’t legal. Abraham Lincoln says so.
Your needs don’t define what’s lawful. Now, in about one second, I’m going to change my mind and hand you and those two buffoons into his custody and let his people serve up some law. So, what’s it going to be?”

  Jumbo looked at the fallen creature once more, then departed with a flash.

  I walked over to the stone man and studied him and his bonds.

  “You’re an earth elemental, aren’t you?” I said.

  He looked up at me; his eyes were calm, but curious. “Indeed. I am Borse.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Borse. Come here often?”

  “I do not. I felt a strong pull, leading me to this place--a place of rock and stone. The Sentinels were waiting for me. A place such as this breathes strength and peace into my kind. But I was not sufficient to resist the Sentinels. I feared I was lost.”

  “I see. Well, your timing is impeccable,” I said.

  Borse twisted his mouth into a grin. “As is yours, friend.”

  I rubbed my chin. Three parties being at the right place at the right time was too coincidental. Something was up.

  “I’m Elson.” I knelt beside Borse. “Now, hold still, and I’ll get rid of those bonds.”

  I studied the energy cables. The secret of their crafting was difficult to discover. After several minutes, I stood back and had to think.

  “Perhaps we should relocate. If the Sentinels return with greater numbers, we both could be at their cruel mercy,” Borse said.

  I ran my hand through my hair. “Oh, don’t worry about that. They’ve had their noses bloodied well enough. Their kind will first try to figure out what happened by studying their injuries. Then they’ll plan their response and have to run it up the chain of command several levels to get approvals. By the time they gather a force and return, trees will be growing where we stand. Or, where I stand and you lie.”

  I continued to study the complexity of the bonds. “I’ve never seen bonds like these. They’re quite tricky.”

  “They are called Sentinel Chains. They can hold any being, whether he be spirit or rock, and they inflict great pain to the disobedient. I do not doubt your might, Elson, for you have shown it undeniably, but the secret of these chains has eluded elementals of all kinds for all time. I fear you cannot undo them.”