The Installed Intelligence Trilogy Collection

by Phoenix Ward

  “The storm was terrible, so Snail retreated into his shell,” the woman narrated.

  The Snail actor, with a look a relief, set the shell prop down on the stage and walked off, joining the audience. The rice-storm and gong-thunder continued.

  “The storm did not relent, however,” the narrator said. “The rains continued into the next day, and the waters rose. Snail thought he was safe in his shell, but he was drowned by the storm.”

  The Snail actor shouted from offstage, “My spirit is ascending to God! Though I am dead, I join the other souls that make up our harmonious Earth!”

  Finally, the rice-storm ended. For a moment, Tera assumed they had run out of fake rain, but realized it was a deliberate transition. There was a moment of silence as the audience gazed at the empty painted basket, alone on the stage.

  Another actor appeared after the silence went on for several minutes, this one dressed in a dark leotard. His face was painted with black makeup and charcoal, designed to look like a caricature of an old-timey villain. Ethan half expected him to change into a cartoon devil, complete with horns and a pitchfork.

  “Overnight, a daemon appeared,” the narrator said. “He found the empty shell that Snail had left behind.”

  The daemon actor approached the painted basket with a cautious gait, like he half expected the “shell” to be booby-trapped. He lifted the basket, really selling the whole nervous performance. When it was clear that the shell was empty, the daemon turned to the audience and announced, “This shell will be my new home!”

  “So the daemon crawled inside, claiming Snail’s shell as his own,” the narrator said. The actor pretended to crawl into the painted basket, then made a swift exit from the stage. “The next day, Snail’s friends came to make sure he was alright.”

  All three of the animal actors returned to the stage, looking around as if they couldn’t see the shell alone on the platform. Each acted surprised when they came within a couple feet of the prop.

  “Snail! Is that you?” Lizard asked.

  “Snail? How did you survive the storm?” Horse said.

  The daemon actor, cupping his mouth with his hands, said, “It is me, friends! I survived by taking shelter in my shell.”

  “Oh! What a miraculous shell indeed!” Lizard commented.

  “Your voice sounds different, Snail,” Crow said. “Are you not feeling well?”

  “No, I — I’m sick,” the daemon replied. Then he gave a few fake coughs. “The storm made me ill.”

  “Oh no!” Horse said. “We should take him to Owl to be healed!”

  “No! I don’t need a healer!” the daemon said. “It’s alright.”

  “It’s not okay, Snail!” Crow said. “We won’t let our friend be sick.”

  “Despite the daemon’s protests, Snail’s friends took the shell to Owl, the wisest creature in the forest,” the narrator explained.

  A curtain was lifted by a number of stagehands, concealing the actors and the painted basket. Tera and Ethan could hear shuffling and hushed voices talking from behind the veil. The sounds were hurried, and in less than a minute, the curtain was dropped.

  The painted basket wobbled a little while Snail’s friends stood around it. There was a new actor on the stage, also dressed in a feather-covered robe. He seemed older and more distinguished.

  “Owl!” Lizard cried as if an invisible wall separated them from the new character.

  “Yes?” the Owl actor said. He acknowledged their presence for the first time.

  “Our friend Snail is sick,” Crow explained. “Will you not heal him?”

  The new character approached the painted basket. He tapped it a couple of times with his hands — or wings, as Tera tried to imagine. Owl gave a little hum of thought as he considered the shell.

  “I see your problem,” Owl said.

  Horse turned to Lizard with a childlike expression of joy. “Oh, wonderful Owl! See? We were right to come to him.”

  “The problem is that this is no Snail!” Owl said like he was making an accusation in court.

  The others gasped.

  “Nonsense!” said the daemon. His voice came from under the painted basket, which explained the odd rocking it made every now and then.

  “How could you say that, Owl?” Lizard said. “Snail is our friend, and we would know if it was not him.”

  “I may not know your friend, but I know daemons!” Owl declared. With a grand gesture, he flipped over the painted basket, revealing the shadowy character within.

  Again, the animal friends gasped. The daemon actor stood bow-legged, like he was taken by surprise as well. A guilty expression crossed his make-up strewn face.

  “Impostor!” Crow shouted at the daemon.

  “I cannot believe we were deceived!” Lizard lamented.

  “Begone, daemon!” Horse yelled.

  As if he had been stung by a bee, the daemon actor leaped in pain and ran off the stage.

  “Do you see now?” Owl said once the commotion of the daemon’s exit diminished. “The shell was never Snail at all, but a vessel. No matter how well the impostor plays his role, your friend is gone.”

  “I guess the shell doesn’t make the snail!” Crow declared.

  All the actors froze as if in a 90’s sitcom, waiting for the credits to roll. The curtain was raised again, and the crowd began to applaud.

  “So ends the story of A Shell Without A Snail,” the narrator said, trying to surmount the rising clapping. She took her leave, melting back into the audience. The curtain remained up for a few moments, and when it was lowered, the stage was empty.

  King Hum beamed at the performance, offering his own loud applause. He turned to gauge his guests’ reactions.

  “What did you think?” he asked.

  “I liked it,” Ethan said. “A nice little fable.”

  “A very old one, as well,” Orram said. He turned to his plate and speared a bite with his fork.

  “I dunno,” Tera said. “I thought it was a little on-the-nose. It’s about bodyshells, isn’t it?”

  King Hum smiled, picking at a bit of his own meal. “I can see how you’d think that, but it’s older than your kind,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” Tera asked. “To me, it seemed written with the sole mission of discrediting installed intelligences. By saying that we’re ‘daemons’.”

  “I’m sorry you see it that way,” King Hum replied. “After all, it is just a fable.”

  “I thought it was cute,” Reverend Nidus said, leaning back into his chair. “Though, if it were accurate, it would have been revealed that the daemon really was the snail’s soul. Just in a different form. Those animals essentially banished their own friend, just because they didn’t recognize him.”

  “No, that’s not how the story goes,” King Hum said, a little agitated. “The daemon was a trickster and a fraud.”

  “In your version, perhaps,” Nidus replied. “Though if I had written it, it would have ended differently.”

  “With all due respect,” Orram said, a little sarcastically, “you didn’t write it.”

  “No,” Nidus said. “But I still have the chance to write a different story. If you’ll excuse me.” He pushed his chair back as he stood up.

  No one said a word to try and stop his departure, and he offered nothing more as a farewell.

  The Decision

  Ethan stirred a little, sensing a presence outside the cloth door. His intuition proved correct when he heard Adviser Orram call to them.

  “Ms. Alvarez! Mr. Myler! Are you awake?” the old man asked. His voice had a certain deaf quality to it.

  Tera didn’t bother coming to the door. “What is it, Orram?” she shouted back.

  The cloth door fluttered a little as the adviser peeked inside. Ethan closed his eyes instinctively as a bit of sunlight hit them.

  “The king would like to speak with you,” Orram answered. “If you have the time, come to the palace. He’s come to a decision.”

 
; When they entered through the massive doors, Ethan and Tera found the throne room devoid of life. At least, organic life. Reverend Nidus waited off to the side of the king’s desk, surrounded by an entourage of zealots. Neither the monarch nor his trusted adviser were anywhere to be seen.

  Nidus turned to look at the newcomers, his hood wrinkling with the turn of his head. Even though his features were all artificial, they were capable of an intense look of disdain.

  “Oh,” the cult leader said, “it’s you.”

  “Nidus,” Tera greeted the other bodyshell. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same thing you are,” Nidus replied. “Waiting for the good king to grace us with his judgment.”

  “Any idea when that will be?” Ethan asked.

  The cult leader shrugged, then turned back his followers. He whispered something to them, and all they gave him their attention.

  It wasn’t long before the huge doors opened again, revealing King Hum, Adviser Orram, and a small group of Opesian guards. They marched into the room without so much as a nod in greeting. The young monarch took a seat at his desk and waited for his adviser to join him at his side before looking his guests in the eyes.

  “Greetings,” he said. “I am pleased that you took the time to meet with me today.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” Ethan said, offering the polite bow he had come to know as the standard Opesian sign of respect. Tera emulated the action, but Nidus and his zealots remained still.

  “I have given a considerable amount of thought to your issues,” King Hum said. “I am sorry to say that Opes can offer none of you any assistance.”

  Tera and Ethan’s faces fell into identical looks of shock. Orram gazed at them with a grim, almost apologetic expression.

  “I don’t understand,” Ethan said, a bit of indignation in his tone. “Don’t you understand what they’re doing in Shell City?”

  “Of course I do,” the young king replied. “I still cannot help. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re abandoning thousands of other humans to the mercy of the Council,” Ethan said. A droplet of tears started filling up his vision. “Millions, even! All of them with spirits that aren’t ready to meet God yet, your grace.”

  “I understand,” King Hum said, “but I have to think of my people. The needs of Opes come first. That’s what it means to be a ruler.”

  “It won’t stop with Shell City, your grace,” Tera interjected. “If you don’t help us defeat the Council in Shell City, they’ll be coming to your door next. We’re all in this together.”

  “That’s conjecture,” King Hum replied. “I cannot and will not move my armies to war on such a hypothetical. My decision is final.”

  Ethan was a little red in the face, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Tera hung her head.

  King Hum turned to Reverend Nidus, whose posture tensed up at the sudden attention.

  “As for you and your cult, you are ordered to leave the kingdom before sundown tomorrow,” the monarch said. His voice didn’t waver as he orated. “My people and I will respect your group’s right to exist, but you are not welcome in Opes. You seem incapable of keeping your religion to yourself and showing us the respect due any host. For that reason, I must ask you to leave.”

  Nidus scoffed. “Your grace, doesn’t that seem like a hasty decision?” he asked. “Surely you aren’t threatened by my preachings? If your mysticism is so sound, it should stand against the influence of a mad preacher, should it not?”

  “Little insults like that influenced my verdict,” King Hum replied, sneering at the cult leader. “Now I will hear no more from you. You are all dismissed.”

  Nidus shook with rage. He raised a mechanical fist, waving it at the young monarch. “This is an outrage!” he bellowed. “I will not stand for this kind of treatment! You will come to regret your decision, young king.”

  He made a flourish with his cloak as he turned to leave the throne room. Without another word, the other two guests followed in Nidus’ wake.

  Determination

  Orram led Ethan and Tera to the small plot of land that had been their autocar’s home for the last few days. There was little to talk about as they made their way out from the main part of Opes. Some of the villagers wished them well as they walked by, and the newcomers gave a bow in turn. Even though they left in defeat, both of them couldn’t help but feel a little sad to go. They came to respect the Opesian people, even if they found their ways a little backwards at times.

  The old adviser seemed the most distraught about their departure. That’s why he took it upon himself to escort them back to their vehicle, even though they could have found it just fine on their own.

  “I’m sorry your visit couldn’t have been more fruitful,” Orram said once they were close enough to open the autocar’s door. “I hope it doesn’t affect your opinion of our people.”

  “Not at all, Orram,” Tera said. “We may not have gotten what we set out for, but it was hardly a wasted experience. Being in your kingdom will end up being one of my most cherished memories — second only to beating the Council, if we manage that.”

  The old adviser nodded. “Don’t feel afraid to come again, should the opportunity arise,” he said.

  “And if the king changes his mind,” Ethan started, “let us know.”

  “I’ll be the first one calling, should that happen,” Orram said. “Don’t count on it, though. The young king is firm about his decisions. He doesn’t make them lightly. If he chose to deny your request, there must be a bigger reason than we are capable of seeing. It’s why God chose him to lead. I have nothing but faith in his instincts.”

  “I wish we could say the same,” Ethan said. “Only time will tell.”

  “Indeed,” Orram replied. He offered a warm smile. “Farewell, friends. I wish you luck against the Council. We will certainly celebrate your victory the day it comes.”

  “Thanks, Orram,” Tera replied.

  They climbed into the autocar and secured themselves in the seats. Both the I.I. and the human teenager looked out the window and stared at the Holy Kingdom of Opes for a moment before starting the vehicle up. Orram waved to them, joined by a couple of villagers who came to see the autocar fly away. Ethan gave a feeble wave back, but he was sure they couldn’t see him. With a simple command to the autocar’s main computer, they took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

  “That could have gone better,” Ethan commented after they were airborne for a few minutes. He rubbed his eyes as he spoke, realizing for the first time how tired he was. He had slept worse than he had thought during their stay.

  “It could have gone worse, too,” Tera replied. “If King Hum was any dumber, we could have had a conflict on our hands.”

  “He’s not dumb at all,” said Ethan. “He’s just looking out for his people — he’s wrong, but he thinks he’s right. There’s nothing we can do about that.”

  “If only he could see it all firsthand. I thought for sure he’d be convinced by the recording of the lobotomy. Maybe he just has to see the horror for himself,” Tera said.

  Ethan thought for a moment. “We did our best, Tera,” he said. “Maybe he’ll come round, but we can’t worry about that now. We need to focus on getting help from the other tribes out there. One of them is bound to join us.”

  “Maybe.”

  They flew in silence for what felt like hours. According to the computer, they were about half of the way back to Shell City. It would be dark when they returned, which should help conceal their entry into the geothermal system.

  “Do you miss it?” Tera asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

  Her question caught Ethan off guard. He cocked an eyebrow at her in confusion.

  “The simulation, I mean.,” she said. “You said it was perfect. Do you wish you were back there now?”

  Ethan sighed a little, then looked out of the window at the vast expanse of dirt that rolled below them.

  “I dunno,” he re
plied. “It kind of feels like I was woken from a really good dream, one I was really enjoying. And even though I realize it’s not real, I get angry that it was taken away from me. I hate that I was lied to, if only because I wish the lie were true.”

  Tera looked over at him with a plain expression. “We’ll make Councilman Harring and his pals pay, don’t worry,” she said.

  “I know,” the human replied. “I just hate the waiting.”

  Tera nodded, then caught a flicker in the corner of her vision. She turned her mechanical head to the autocar’s main console; the lights behind the controls were going on and off.

  Ethan took notice as well, cocking his eyebrow at the display. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Tera said, her voice distant as she tried to figure out what caused the flickering. “Could be an electrical issue. Not sure where I’d start looking if I were to fix it.”

  With a sudden whoosh, the low hum of the engine died, and they were left with only the sound of the wind rushing against the vehicle’s hull. The flickering controls stopped and the cabin went dark.

  “What’s going on?” Ethan asked, panic in his tone.

  “I don’t know!” Tera yelled back. “I think the engine died.”

  “Why?”

  Tera didn’t reply. Instead, she sat in the pilot’s seat and buckled herself in. She reached under the main console of the vehicle and pulled some sort of release lever. Like a mouse trap had been set off, a steering control popped out of the dashboard. Tera seized the device and tried to take manual control of the autocar. Ethan tried to find his way back to the passenger seat, but the autocar started to fall out of the sky and he lost his balance. He was tossed around like a rag doll as the nose of the vehicle pointed straight down.

  “Brace yourself!” the I.I. said, trying to pull the control upward and bring the car out of its dive.