The Sin of Moloch

by Andrew Gordinier

  “My computer was pretty badass, and it got melted by that program.”

  “Yes, but I was thinking of something more cutting edge.”

  “What? You got a supercomputer hidden away in this fortress of darkness?” Deanna knew her computer had not been top of the line, or as badass as she pretended it was, but she didn’t like what he was saying about what she considered her dead friend.

  “Better.”

  “Better than a supercomputer?” Deanna’s BS detector was starting to register. “You got a prototype AI? Skynet or Archos trapped on a hard drive somewhere?”

  “No, I have access to a quantum computer.”

  “You… Wha…Where?”

  Solomon chuckled at Deanna’s sudden stammering.

  “What’s a quantum computer?” Radha felt like she was struggling to keep up.

  “They are still experimental at this point, and insano expensive. These bad boys function using q-bits rather than binary data. Instead of ones and zeros, they have a third alternating state that allows for more data. Current computers solve problems by trying different solutions really fast, till they get the one that works. These bad boys can be programmed to try multiple solutions at the same time.” Deanna had read about them, seen pictures on the internet, and dreamed of playing with one.

  “How is that possible?” To Radha, it sounded like something out of a movie.

  “That’s how quantum mechanics works, almost as if uncertainty and strangeness were demanded by the universe.”

  “So, if I were able to get you access to one? What could you do with it?” Solomon leaned back in his chair with a small smile.

  “I don’t know. It all depends, I mean they aren’t running on Linux. Deanna found herself making a quick list of possible ways to convert her coding into a language she had no understanding of. It was a tempting puzzle and challenge.

  “I don’t know what language they are using, but I’m sure I can arrange for whatever you needed. I will spare no expense.” Solomon knew that he not only had the keys to the canary cage but to the tropical bird exhibit at the zoo.

  “It might solve some of the problems, but there is still something missing from the formula, the program keeps crashing.” Deanna looked out the window over the vast jungle below and let her mind wander through the different parts of code that were suspect.

  “Breakfast is ready.” Announced the woman without a name, she entered skillfully carrying a large tray. She was followed by the aroma of coffee and bacon. She placed plates, filled cups of coffee, and poured orange juice. Then quickly vanished to the kitchen again.

  Radha examined her plate and guessed that whoever the woman was, she was a professional chef. There was a small bowl of baked eggs, greens, and a soft, salty cheese that Radha didn’t recognize. A croissant that was still warm enough to melt butter but not too hot to eat or handle. Three slices of thick bacon and a helping of fresh tropical fruits. It was difficult for Radha to eat her breakfast slowly, not only because of her hunger, but because she seldom was treated to such skilled cooking. The juice was fresh squeezed, and the coffee was more than just another fantastic flavor, it was great.

  “Had I known that kidnappers had such good coffee, I might have gotten myself abducted years ago.” Joked Deanna.

  “It has been my experience that not all kidnappers treat their wards so kindly.” Solomon ate slowly and seemed pleased but unimpressed by breakfast.

  “So, mages just kidnap each other for fun?”

  “No, not at all. But, as a Censor, I am often called into tidy up other people’s mistakes or wrongdoings. I often see the unedited realities of life in extreme circumstances.”

  Radha studied the Censor as he sipped his juice. Something about his comment was troubling, and it was not about the things he implied to have seen. It was, she realized, what seeing those things might do to him. He was clearly without morals or scruples, yet he enjoyed toying with people in the role of an excellent host. Displaying his power in the form of a clearly abused woman that he kept as a servant, and holding it as an unsaid promise of what he could do to anyone. Radha was terrified that she wouldn’t be strong in the face of such tortures and fear. This fear was sharpened because she felt at his mercy already.

  John had told her about the abuses of power and brutality that mages were happy to exhibit. She had seen them not as people, but as gods gone mad. It was easier to make them not human, it removed the scariest part of it for her, that these people had chosen to do these things. This man, this Censor seated across from her, had decided to do all this. To play this game for his amusement. To tell her that as evil as he was, he was dignified and civilized compared to the others he kept in line. Radha considered that idea for a moment and saw that whatever had been civilized and human about Solomon, died long ago.

  Radha was startled by the nameless woman clearing her plates away, she glanced at the woman's hands and up into her eyes. There was nothing there to say that she was dead inside or abused, no sign or mark. Radha saw the layers of makeup, though, and wondered with fear what they covered. Radha watched her walk away and again noticed how beautiful she was, and realized that she was looking at a butterfly pinned to a card while still living. She was not yet dead, but how long could she survive like this? How long would a man like this Censor keep her alive?

  “Is there something wrong, Radha?” Asked the Censor, clearly aware she had not been paying attention.

  “No, there’s nothing wrong.” Radha looked him in the eye. She did realize that she could never know the depths of darkness that lurked in this man, but that realization did not frighten her. Now she understood that she could not know, could never know, was without an ability to comprehend his evil. The woman was alive though, he allowed her to live nameless and suffering, it was not a kindness. As Radha studied him, though, she wondered if it was a weakness.

  Chapter 19

  John drifted between the moon and Earth, looking down on the only world he had ever known. John raised his hand and was able to almost entirely obscure the Earth from his vision, he knew he was headed to where his home would just be a star on the horizon at night. John felt alone, humble, and somewhere deep inside himself, he felt emboldened. He felt the call of exploration and the open road, somewhere in him his ancestral nomadic blood stirred, and he felt the urge of the wanderer.

  Turning to face the moon, John opened his borrowed Primer and traced the thin threads that linked it to the other primes. All but one pointed the way home, one wavering thread plunged towards the moon and gently arced towards the dark side that faced away from the earth. John peered down the thread and saw a small cavern below the gray surface, there was air and no apparent danger. John teleported unsure what he would find there, but he suspected Finley was long gone.

  The small cavern was man-made, using magic to compress the rock and dust to a concrete-like layer that held in oxygen. John opted to keep his helmet on, though. There were cardboard boxes of supplies, an unmade bed with expensive sheets, an improvised shower stall and bathroom, several bookcases, a wardrobe, and an enormous desk with papers strewn across it. Clearly, Finley had been using this as a hideout for some time but was long gone. John looked around to see what he could find, but there wasn’t much that was useful and no sign of John’s Primer. One question was answered though, the strange pattern that John had been unable to identify on Finley back in the diner had been moon dust.

  Frustrated, John opened his borrowed Primer and saw that there were several threads headed in the direction of Earth, and still one lone thread that went the opposite direction. Why had the thread gotten tangled here? Why wouldn’t it just go straight to the other primers? John had no answers and chalked it up to one of those things he was gonna have to figure out later. John teleported away following the single thread and stopped short of arriving where it was anchored. He found himself drifting high in orbit over Mars.

  John looked down on Mars and had no trouble imagining that there was no lif
e there. It was shades of brown and black, mixed with a burnt orange color, and seemed a thirsty world. There were dark shadows of dust storms raging across the southern hemisphere, obscuring details, and eroding the landscape as they had for untold lifetimes. John traced the thread from the primer, and it went deep underground in a seemingly empty area of the northern ice cap. He had heard of the so-called “face of Mars” and was actually surprised to not be heading there.

  John drew his pistol, peered down the thread, and saw a large buried structure that stood empty and airless. John teleported and set foot on carved stone tiles, leaving his footprint in the gathered dust of untold millennia. It was a temple-like structure, with large arches curving up into the darkness, this was clearly what Finley had hoped to find. John wandered towards an adjacent wall and saw fresh tracks in the dust. John cautiously followed Finley’s tracks.

  They followed one of the walls, clearly Finely was looking for an inscription or statue to give him the clues he was looking for, John grimly hoped he had not found them. The trail lead through a small archway, up a wide gently spiraling staircase, and into a small chamber that was littered with rubble. At the far end of the room, John saw a pedestal set against the wall, it looked like an altar of some kind. John picked his way across the room and examined the alter closer. The top of it had been cleared of dust, and there were diamonds set into the stone, the letters they formed were like the ones in the Primers, only by seeing their patterns could you read them completely. They described a star with several planets, gave the direction and speed of the star, and what seemed to be a date on some unknown calendar John set down his pack and pulled his tablet out. A few quick taps later and he was logged into Skype and waiting for Eric to respond.

  “John! Where are you?” Eric's face and voice seemed out of place in this dead structure.

  “Mars, near the North pole. There is some kind of buried structure here, Finley was here, there are footprints in the dust. He’s gone through.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “Kinda, I found what seems to be a description for a star. I’m going to have to count on the Primer though, I can't figure it all out.”

  “Keep after him, and don’t forget to check-in.” “Any luck with finding Radha?”

  “Not yet, you keep doing what you gotta do, and we’ll keep working on it.”

  “When you get a chance, ask Conrad why the threads that connect the Primers might get stuck on planets.”

  “I’ll have him call you. Good luck, kid.”

  “Thanks, Eric.”

  Shutting off his tablet was like allowing the silence and stillness of the dead place to rush up and wrap its ancient cold self around John, it was almost suffocating. John packed away his tablet, shouldered his pack, with a sense of resignation, opened the Primer, and followed the single blue thread far into deep space.

  Chapter 20

  “They are talking about war!” The man shouted, his face turning red. “They have Censors and who knows how many artifacts to use against us, and we have nothing!”

  “I am hoping that we can avoid war. I’m reading a proposal that has been tabled that would restart relations with the European conclave.” Conrad had no desire to be sitting at the head of the table, he had hoped to avoid leadership entirely.

  “I know the proposal you’re talking about, it gives them massive trade concessions while forcing us to pay for just about everything. That on top of our new taxes in this so-called ‘union’ would push many of us into near poverty.” The man loosened his ugly tie, but it did nothing to remove the blaze of red from his face.

  “There is no reason to make all those concessions or agree to all those tariffs. It is only a proposal and still needs a great deal of work.” Conrad poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher that had gone warm a long time ago. He debated cooling it with a pattern like others had at the meeting, but decided against it, better to set an example.

  “An important part of the proposal is that they release the accounts and corporations they have seized through various legal maneuvers. That would return a great deal of money and income to those who have holdings there.” Leonard was still keeping records but was slowly becoming a more and more active voice, if not in preserving their fragile government, at least of reason. “That in itself makes many of the concessions only a short term loss.”

  “Short term losses are a joke if there is no long term.” The man sat back down in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

  “As of now, there has been no major movement with non-mage society or governments. While these seizures and freezes have caused some economic ripples, there is nothing significant occurring to suggest they want to take this outside mage society. That alone tells me that they are not ready to wage a war, even a silent one. It may only be a matter of time, but so long as we have time, there may be a peaceful diplomatic solution.” Conrad looked around the table as he spoke, knowing he needed to sway only a few votes.

  “I say we strike first.” The man’s face was finally starting to return to a healthy hue. “Strike them and strike them first, even up the odds while we can. Maybe then we can survive long enough to force them to submit.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” Asked a voice to Conrad's right.

  “Yes, and I say we kill as many regents as we can while we know where they are.”

  “Then what? We kill their friends and family when they come for revenge and justice?” Asked the same voice from his right. “If that’s what we’re going to do then you can count me out, I didn’t join this to cause more violence, I joined to stop the bloodshed.”

  “Go be a pacifist hippy somewhere else, we don’t need any extra dead bodies when things get started.” Snarled the man as he leaned back in his chair, bringing shadows across his face.

  “You know I’m not a pacifist, but I have a family, children that only know the magic they see in damn Disney movies. How are they supposed to fight or defend themselves? Your wife just had your first child, you willing to risk them both?”

  “My wife is more of a mage than you are-“

  “Your family will be a target! All our families will be targets. It will be just like it was in the golden age because we all know you can’t just kill someone. You have to kill every ones will to fight. You have to make them accept you as their master and know that there will only be pain if they disobey. That is the old way, that is what you talk about when say strike first.” Conrad felt his own face turning red as he spoke.

  “On that note, ladies and gentlemen, it is late. We should either adjourn for the evening or vote.” Leonard’s voice was soft and even.

  “All in favor of planing a first strike.” The man raised his hand high as he called on his fellow mages to be as brave as he was. Few followed suite.

  “All in favor of exploring a diplomatic solution as long as we can?” Conrad said as he raised his hand. Diplomacy carried the vote by a narrow margin, but there were a lot of people who didn’t vote, and that worried Conrad.

  Deanna woke with a start when the lights snapped on in her cell. She had been sleeping fitfully, and the sudden charge of adrenaline faded quickly to a general feeling of exhaustion, leaving her wanting coffee. Deanna slid off the bed and walked to the cell door and stood on her toes to look out the tiny window. She could see Radha peering at her across the hall. Even at this distance, Deanna could see the bags under her eyes. She waved and was about to try and start a conversation when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Without ceremony, the woman with no name unlocked their doors and let them into the hallway.

  “He’s gone, I don’t know for how long. I’m sure he has the place bugged and listens in, so watch what you say.” She waved for them to follow her and started down the hallway.

  “If he’s not here, where are you taking us?” To Deanna’s amusement, Radha was getting bolder the longer she was caged.

  “The two of you need clean clothes, and if I have to ride the
elevator with you… You’re both getting showers, I can’t handle the smell.”

  Radha and Deanna looked at each other, Deanna shrugged, and they followed the woman with no name. She didn’t go to the elevator, but instead the rusty and stained door, she opened it with a key and stepped through. The hallway beyond was smaller and well lit, the walls and floors were seamless polished stone. They quickly came to another door, painted pink, there was no lock or handle on the door.

  “This is my room.” Said the woman with no name as she pushed on the door. It swung easily on well-oiled hinges but was clearly massive.

  “What's behind that door?” Deanna indicated the end of the hallway that was dominated by another stained and rusty door.

  The woman looked at it and paused. “I hope that you never know.” The woman's room was decorated with real wood flooring, wallpaper, actual bookshelves (though there were few actual books). To Deanna’s surprise, there was an old radio with a tape player. Compared to her barren and falsely decorated cell it was luxurious.

  “I can lend you some of my sweats while we wash your clothes. The shower’s through there, I put some clean towels by the sink.”

  “Do you mind if I go first? My hair is driving me nuts!” Radha was already pulling her long dark hair out of its ever-present braid.

  “I don’t mind, just save me some hot water.” Something was bothering Deanna, but she wasn’t ready to ask this unnamed woman, she was afraid of the answer. Radha left, and soon, there was the sound of running water. Deanna looked at the woman who had no name and somehow defied a terrifying man with a cold and straightforward demeanor. “He’s going to know you did this.”

  “I know.”

  “Will he-“

  “Punish me for it?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s going to do that no matter what I do.” The woman looked away momentarily, then locked eyes with Deanna in an unflinching gaze. “He likes the way I scream. So I hold out long enough to make him angry, but not so long that he thinks I can endure forever.”