House of the Galactic Elevator

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The Grey paused. “Will I?”

  The creature offered a solemn nod. “You will. But I need something from you. Something you might even find pleasant, considering your current state of mind.”

  “And what might you know about my state of mind?”

  “That you are not yourself. Or, more accurately, you finally are yourself, something that you may have never been before. You have been liberated from your cultural conditioning, perhaps even experienced a physiological change.”

  The Grey bristled, clenched its jaw. How much did this creature know? Even Irving had never gotten to the bottom of why it had gone through the change that made it feel something and everything where before it and its fellow Greys remained stoic and reserved. It assumed the skin discoloration was some byproduct of this, something brought on by stress, perhaps. It didn’t need a creature with two pelvises to tell it that it wasn’t feeling normal. Besides, Irving liked the new normal.

  “It’s my contact with the human,” Irving said. “I was infected somehow.”

  The creature gave a half nod, head almost sideways. “Infected. Yes, but not just by the humans.”

  “What are you babbling about? I don’t have time for this.”

  “You’ll make time.”

  The Grey felt its throat tightening and its face flush. Who was this weird being to tell it what to do? But Irving’s blaster was gone. Irving regretted not having two weapons smuggled into the security building by the easy-to-bribe maintenance staff.

  “Not right now I won’t,” the Grey said.

  The Grey started to walk towards the exit. A strange fuzzy sensation filled its head like it had been stung in the mouth by a Clyptus’ poison thorn, a sensation Irving had hoped it would never feel again. The numbness spread down the spine to its hands and feet. The Grey fell to a knee and struggled to remain upright. It couldn’t make its mouth move to form words, nor excrete pheromones to express how angry it was.

  “You believed because you had root access to every civic computer within the city that you could take down the transportation system. That somehow your shell game with the elevators that got the Bunnie here and your tampering of the probability computer could break the most magnificent construction ever gifted to the galaxy?”

  The creature shifted his legs and stood. He hobbled over to the Grey and walked in a shambling circle. The Grey couldn’t move a muscle. What was this thing doing? Irving hadn’t been struck by a stunner or been poisoned. Irving detected no gas traces or aerated paralytic agents. None of the nanobots flitting about the room had been inhaled.

  “How do you think that you got that far? I’ll tell you. It’s because I let you turn the transportation system off.”

  Irving wanted to scream, to ask how, to curse this freak. The Grey’s jaw and throat refused to cooperate.

  The creature leaned close. Delicate fingers traced the Grey’s head and face, soon caressing its neck with clammy warm hands.

  “If I had let you do what you wanted, you might have actually damaged the entire network. I don’t care about the Bunnie or any of that. The translation disruption actually provided me with some amusement. But I’m the caretaker and inventor of the transportation system’s most vital component. And I could make you answer for what you did.”

  The creature’s fingers found the null-space pouch behind the Grey’s head, the place where the translation unit normally resided. The Grey didn’t wear one, had never needed one. But in that same pouch Irving wore a neural interface device useful for accessing computers. With a pop in the Grey’s head like the unplugging of a poorly grounded microphone from a speaker, the creature removed the device. The Grey’s paralyzed muscles all relaxed. It fell to the floor.

  The creature let loose a laugh. He then put a finger to the Grey’s neural device. The flat square unit began to vibrate. Something moved within, as if it were an egg about to hatch. A worm poked its head out. Soon the wriggling form emerged onto the creature’s hand and crawled up the arm to join its brethren. The creature tossed the device back to the Grey. The Grey examined the device’s surface and saw a small hole.

  When had the worm gotten inside the device? Back at the cell? Had it dropped down from the ceiling as the Grey entered the chamber? Or had it always been there? The Grey doubted that, but couldn’t eliminate that possibility yet.

  The creature now said something that the Grey didn’t understand. That was impossible. The Grey spoke every language known, had been the translation machine’s master programmer. But this creature’s speech wasn’t registering.

  The creature made a gesture for the Grey to put the neural interface back. Irving hesitated, figuring that if this creature wanted the Grey dead, then why bother with this strange demonstration? A human or most other creatures would have been horrified at the notion that there was a worm connected to a device that interfaced with their central nervous system. But not the Grey. It wanted to know how the worm got in there and how this could be used in the future with other bothersome citizens of the Galactic Commons. The Grey put the device back in place. Another pop filled its brain. It felt like the device still worked, no worse for wear.

  “Do I have your attention now?” the creature with two pelvises asked.

  The Grey understood the creature because there was an open network available that allowed access. Through it, the Grey connected to the Galactic Commons translation computer like an ordinary rube. Whatever language this creature spoke was now included in the program. How interesting.

  A lopsided smile crept across the Grey’s face. “You do have my attention. So tell me: What is it that I can do for you, and what is it that you can do for me?”

  ***

  Jeff could only see Oliop’s butt, tail, and legs. The rest of the lanky technician was submerged within the transportation complex’s machinery, the control booth around them all ripped apart. At first Jeff was glad to be out of Oliop’s dark workshop, but the large spaces of the elevator terminal when empty proved to be eerily quiet where they had once been the center of the city’s busy heart.

  The control room’s computer towers and long consoles crowded the walls, pushed aside and tipped up or over to allow access to what lay beneath, while floor plates stood open, exposing pits that led down to grids of circuitry and wire. Some of the wires had been pulled from their conduits and stripped, standing naked. Several tablets with floating screens were placed haphazardly on the floor, connected to the pits through strands of multicolored cables. The control room looked like an otherworldly chessboard with some squares now traps and ghostly metal and plastic pieces standing jumbled in the center or shoved off to the side, as if those playing had rage quit and smashed the table on their way out.

  Oliop sang. Jeff had never seen Oliop this happy, the weight of responsibility and his legal entanglements strangely out of mind. Jeff listened to the song and ignored the translation. He tried to focus on the actual sounds Oliop made but found it impossible to circumvent the information his translator piped into his head. His own broken tablet rested in his lap. He stabbed it with a finger. The screen blinked once, went black.

  “Jeff Abel,” Oliop called from the pit. “Try executing the syncing subroutine.”

  Jeff heard the words. “Huh?”

  “The syncing subroutine on the third tablet,” Oliop said.

  Jeff looked at the multitude of tablets on the floor and picked one up. He tapped the screen and found the executable program waiting his command. With another tap, several meters appeared onscreen. Numbers lit up on each meter, running up from zero and down from one hundred, settling in on fluctuating values near fifty but never reading the same as another. Each also displayed red and green sine waves that scrolled along the numbers.

  “Thank you,” Oliop said. He wriggled about and pulled himself up out of the hole. He took the tablet from Jeff, considered it. “Now we wait.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “Are you okay, Jeff Abel?”

  “I’m fine,”
he said with little sincerity.

  Oliop’s ears lowered and a look of concern crossed his hairy face. “Working too hard, maybe? You came here to help me after working with Captain Flemming. Or is it Irving the Grey’s escape? Or are you still angry with me?”

  “Maybe a little. But no, it’s not you. I’m just processing everything that’s happened. I want to be out there to catch Irving before he hurts anyone. I guess I’m also worried about Jordan.”

  “You think she’s in trouble,” Oliop said with a solemn nod. “Since you don’t have to go to work, why don’t you go see her?”

  “I doubt she wants me checking in on her like she can’t handle herself. I’ve left a few messages. If I leave any more it will start to sound weird. And besides, watching you is my job for now.”

  “Hmmm. I think we should call her now. I miss her too. Maybe she can be as emotional as you. Perhaps it’s from spending so much time away from your own kind. And maybe she’ll come back to town for a visit. She won’t mind, I’m sure.”

  Oliop raised his wrist com. Before he could make the call, a yellow bolt struck Oliop in the back, sending him to the ground. He twitched once and lay still.

  “Hi, human,” Irving the Grey said. The little bugger wore a broad smirk as it strode into the dismantled control room. “I’m back.”

  To either side of the Grey, two security bots puttered forward. Each of the four bots held its arms out, with blasters at the ready and pointing at Jeff.

  “Now what do you say we get this system back in working order?” the Grey said. “You’re going to love it.”

  ***

  Jordan was busy. She chewed her lip and squinted. Her eyes burned from strain. Even her avatar wanted to take a break. She should log out, but she hadn’t finished exploring the newly added zone of black ooze-spewing craters and monstrous trees of flame. Plus an Endo had snuck up on her while she had been fighting some little rock monsters and had killed her. The Endo was still in the zone somewhere, and she would make the little douche-nozzle pay.

  “Message received.” appeared on her screen. Her notification setting hadn’t changed. She took a moment to focus her attention on her HUD screen. Another message waited for her from Shannanon, this one with an attachment.

  She found a safe place to park her avatar where it wouldn’t get ambushed. The Endo hunt would have to wait. Real time was mid-afternoon and Fang would be waking at any moment. She also had a kitchen to clean and a park to look after and if she did all of her chores she could log in for a long evening session with zero guilt.

  With a simultaneous gesture and a nod she left her avatar and backed out of the game. Her senses shifted to the kitchen around her. But Shannanon’s message still blinked incessantly in her HUD, marked urgent.

  Jordan opened the message. “Here’s the game if you change your mind. But I was right. It’s AWESOME.”

  Jordan looked at the attached file, saw it wasn’t very large and didn’t require any new framework application before install. But the file had no label, no manufacturer’s data, or even an end-user license agreement of any kind. Every app had one of those, sometimes hundreds of pages long. Most had the clause at the top that started with “In the case of psychological trauma, discontinue use.”

  No wonder Jeff couldn’t get past his gag reflex of the Galactic Commons tech. The never-happened infinitesimally small chance worst-case scenario was front and center as dictated by bodies of lawyers from other worlds. Jordan saved the attached file for later examination.

  Now installing…

  “No, wait! What the hell?”

  It was a small program and installed quickly. A tab appeared next to her other apps, adorned by a smiling bouncing ball. The aroma of cooked bacon wafted forth from the icon. She started to look for the uninstall option when the tab expanded.

  “Experience the newest gaming experience! Free play! Competitive and noncompetitive experiences in an ever-expanding world!” The descriptors went on, all things Jordan had heard before. One game was more than enough, thank you.

  “Hey, you got the game up,” Shannanon messaged. “I see you! Come on, let’s take her for a spin.”

  “I can’t right now. I’ve got work. Besides, I think this thing installed itself. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

  “Hey, I’m all about informed choice. Why don’t you come in for fifteen minutes, and we’ll bang around and see what’s what. There’s a few Ectos here already from the old game so we already have numerical supremacy. There’s this battle for the world’s core competition later tonight, so if you decide you like it here we can sign up and be the first group to win.”

  Jordan considered the bouncing ball. It looked too happy. The bacon smell gave way to some kind of cinnamon pastry aroma. Somehow the game conveyed the notion that her appetite would be sated if she opened the program. Her mouth salivated reflexively.

  “I really don’t have the time,” she said.

  The ball kept bouncing. It giggled like an infant.

  “Just fifteen minutes.”

  She logged in.

  CHAPTER 9

  “What makes you think I’d actually help you?” Jeff asked.

  Irving the Grey walked around the open pits in the floor of the transportation control room. It inspected Oliop’s tablets without touching anything. For a moment, Jeff wondered if the little bugger had actually heard him. Irving finally stopped at Oliop and poked him with a foot. The technician’s lanky form continued to lay motionless.

  “We could start with the obvious,” Irving the Grey said. “Or else. Is that a reason? Need it spelled out? The bots have their blasters. I have mine. Mine leaves a mark. I’ll start with your friend here. But must we be so violent? That is the course that belongs to lesser beings. You’ve shown me the light, my human friend. There’s no need for me to stoop to that level.”

  “I think I’m the one that has to stoop to yours,” Jeff said, looking down at the short Grey.

  The Grey’s face flushed for a moment. So, too, came the aroma of mild irritation, which smelled like burned popcorn. With effort, the Grey regained its composure.

  “So tell me, human,” it said, “how have you found life here in the Galactic Commons, now that the newness of it all has worn off?”

  “How could you possibly think the newness of this has worn off?” Jeff said. He got on a knee and checked Oliop. He lay in a pile at an awkward angle. Jeff felt a pulse. He moved him to a sleeping position, placing his arms on his chest. The bots watched him, their weapons tracking his every movement.

  “I know it has. You don’t share Jordan’s thirst for seeing what’s out there. You long to be alone, safe, in control of your surroundings. You don’t have that here, and you never will. This city has eyes on you at all times. Every place you go, you’re never alone. There’s always something watching you, listening, smelling. Security monitoring covers the city. Even your devices and translators invade your privacy.”

  “Only when you were in charge of translation. But the damage you did has been undone.”

  “Has it? Being a bit naive there, human. You trust that my broodmates would relinquish that type of power?” Irving offered a knowing smile.

  “The one thing I know is that you’re still the violent little cud who spent enough time spying on me before ever bringing me here. That means you no doubt have some kind of psych profile that you think is correct and that you can use to get me to forget the things you’ve done and to help you. Forget it. I know when someone is pushing my buttons. I was married.”

  Irving only nodded. “Then it’s no surprise that I anticipated this reaction. I have an offer that I’ll present to you, and then I’ll let you think about it. I can’t let you go for now, as I’m a fugitive, but I’ll wait for your answer.”

  “The answer is no,” Jeff said.

  “Let me finish,” the Grey said. “My offer is to repair the elevator so that you can return to Earth.”

  Jeff wasn’t expecting this and
the suggestion left him speechless. None of the panic he felt upon seeing the Grey had subsided. The Grey had stridden in here and had blasted Oliop without hesitation. Somehow it had hacked four security bots. And what was that thing wriggling next to the Grey’s head? There on Irving’s shoulder curled a finger-length worm just like the one from the gondola. The Grey didn’t appear troubled by it crawling against its bare skin. And what of the offer? The Grey’s antisocial track record spoke for itself.

  Jeff swallowed. His tongue felt dry. There was no way he could trust the Grey. But for everyone in the city, himself included, to have the option to go home gave him pause. He surprised himself when he asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “The bot will revive the technician,” the Grey said. “You will have to control him, human. He gets excitable.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Jeff said.

  One of the bots rolled close, deftly steering its treads around the various tech strewn about the room. A multi-jointed arm extended from its barrel-shaped body. The limb looked like a bent car antenna with a glowing tip. The bot touched Oliop’s neck, and Oliop sprang to consciousness. In rapid succession, he popped up to a crouch, surveyed the room, and leaped for one of the pits.

  The four bots tracked him but didn’t fire.

  Jeff hit the floor and put his hands to his head. “Oliop, wait,” he said.

  Oliop went down a hole in the floor, vanishing from sight. There came the clatter of metal, followed by silence.

  “Oliop?” Jeff said.

  “It’s the Grey,” came a timid voice from within the floor.

  “I know. He stunned you, and he shouldn’t have. He’s a nasty little prick but he also just revived you.”

  “Why aren’t you hitting him in the face?”