Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #212

by TTA Press Authors

  Paulus nodded. “There are whispers, you know. Theories."

  "Yes."

  "That she's a messenger."

  Morgan shrugged. Of course he'd heard. “A messenger?” He spread his hands, indicated the mural, the sanctuary, the churning machinations of the building around them. “This is God's messenger. This is god. Yes? What would we need a messenger for?"

  Paulus looked around. “Of course, don't misunderstand me. You're the one with a habit of blasphemy, my friend.” The two smiled, Morgan more stiffly than usual. “But what else could she be?"

  Morgan frowned then bent to the mural. The primary sequence was still off. He could feel the missed cycle in his teeth. He unfolded a timing hammer and started to fiddle with the offending cog.

  "I don't know, Paulus. A child, maybe?"

  * * * *

  The girl looked out over the impossible city and sighed, crossing her arms. Morgan set down the tray of food.

  "Have you been here long?” she asked, quietly. Her eyes were unfocused. Wright Morgan raised his eyebrows. It was the first the girl had spoken to him. To anyone.

  "Long? Oh, yes, for a while. In the church, you mean?"

  The girl shifted and looked at Morgan like he was a memory resurfacing. Morgan thought she might have forgotten he was there, might have been talking to herself. “Oh, yes. You. In the church."

  "Yes, I have. Many years. I had a complicated life, before. The church gave me. Well. A different sort of complexity, I suppose. Something to focus on."

  She nodded distantly. She rubbed her forehead and grimaced. “I feel like there's something. Here. Just a little deeper than I can reach.” She blinked her eyes open. “Does that ever happen to you?"

  "Oh, yes. Yes.” Morgan sat down on the bed next to the girl. “When I've forgotten something familiar, it's like the shape of the thing is still in my head and I can almost tell what it is by its absence. Is that what you mean?"

  "I guess. It's like parts are missing or something. Like in your noisy room, downstairs."

  Morgan laughed and stood up. “Yes, I wouldn't call it the noisy room around the others, dear. The algorithm is much more than a room or a machine or. Well. It's just something very important."

  "A different sort of complexity,” she smiled, and for a second Morgan felt that the girl knew a great deal more about this than she was letting on. The second passed. “Sort of like a puzzle you're putting together?"

  "Sort of. But that's true of everything, right? Everyday, everyone, every problem and challenge we face. Just puzzles that we're putting together.” Morgan leaned down and patted the girl on her head. “Like you. You're just a puzzle. And we're trying to help you get back together."

  "Hm. A puzzle of missing pieces.” She mumbled.

  "Now, eat your soup, your bread. And rest. It will all come back."

  "Yes. I hope."

  * * * *

  "The girl is talking,” Morgan said from the doorway. The Elders turned to look at him.

  "And?” Elder Hines asked. “What is she saying? Does she have...” Hines paused, looking around the room at the other elders. “Does she have anything to say. To us?"

  Morgan shook his head. In the weeks since the girl's arrival, Morgan was the only one of the Wrights she seemed comfortable around. It was no surprise that she would speak to him first. “I don't know. If she's really from, you know. The Mountain. But she seems just a girl. A child."

  "A child, of course a child. But what does she say?” Hines asked.

  "What are you expecting, Hines?” Ganthony said from the back of the room. He shouldered his way forward, glancing at Morgan distastefully. Elder Ganthony had a clear opinion on the role of Wrights and Elders in the church, and was uncomfortable with one of the lesser members playing such a prominent role in this matter. “A sign, is that it? A miracle? Some message from the Mountain of God, instructing us on the algorithm. Teaching us? From this,” he waved one hand, “this girl?"

  "Elder Ganthony, I don't...” Hines started to stand.

  "She could be anyone.” Ganthony looked behind him, seeking and finding approval among some of the other elders. “She could be a trickster, a thief. She could be a stowaway."

  "I don't think ... I mean...” Morgan stammered. “The vessels are sealed. How would a girl..."

  "You're making decisions before you have any evidence, Hines. You're looking for signs in a child. There's nothing about that in the algorithm. Do you deny that?"

  "I don't. I just. It seems so incredible. Where is she from, if not the Mountain? What is she, if not a sign?"

  "Well. Well. That's what I mean to find out.” Ganthony nodded and smiled.

  "I just think..."

  "Elders. Eldest. Hold on a minute. Just hold on. We don't even know what she's said.” Merril stepped between Hines and Ganthony, a thin hand on each of their shoulders. “Tell us, Wright. What does she remember?"

  Morgan shuffled his feet. As angry as he was at Ganthony, at his distrust of the girl, Morgan was nervous. He was usually only around this many elders when he was in trouble.

  "Fragments. Images. Nothing complete, but the things she remembers are. Well, they're incredible."

  "Incredible. Well then, I suppose you'd better tell us,” Merril said. The rest of the Elders in the circle nodded.

  "Certainly, but I'm not sure I understand it myself. All of her memories are, well, pieces. Pictures. A river in a pipe, powering pistons as large as this building. Streets of cogwork, dark tunnels knitted in iron. And gears.” Morgan paused to make the holy sign. “Gears of such size."

  Elder Ganthony huffed. “I don't like where you're going with this, Wright."

  "I'm not going anywhere, my Elder. I'm just telling you what the girl said."

  "Of course. And you've formed no opinion of your own, I suppose."

  "Ganthony, hush.” Hines twisted around to stare down the younger man. “These are serious matters. We don't want—"

  "I have,” Morgan spoke up. “I believe the girl has seen God. I believe that she's a part of it."

  Ganthony nodded and crossed his arms. The rest of the council leaned back. There was a profound quiet, like a great exhalation that did not end.

  "We must speak about this habit you have for blasphemy, Wright."

  "It isn't. Listen to what I'm telling you. The things that she's seen."

  "The things you've described could very well be found inside this church, and a clever girl..."

  "A river in a pipe! Hundreds of feet high?” Morgan held out his hands.

  "An exaggeration, I'm sure. Come on, Morgan. Hines, surely you see what's happening here? The girl snuck herself into the vessel."

  "And then sealed herself in?” Morgan asked.

  "Or was snuck in by someone else, somewhere on the vessel's journey.” Ganthony waved his arm impatiently. “And now here she is, surrounded by godly men, and she's come up with a way to take advantage of that. It doesn't take much imagination to dream up her little story. Really. Pistons the size of this building?"

  "Perhaps,” Hines said. “Perhaps. But these things demand a careful viewing. The pattern..."

  "The pattern has nothing in it about stowaway girls! Nothing that we know about the algorithm predicts this."

  "And we know so little, Elder. So little.” Hines sat down and crossed his hands on his thin knee, leaning back to look up at the ceiling. Morgan shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

  "We cannot dismiss her,” Hines said some moments later. “We can not take the risk of losing such an insight.” He leveled his gaze at Ganthony. “We can not take the chance."

  "Yes, Eldest,” the circle whispered, with varying degrees of commitment. Ganthony was silent.

  "We must test her. We must find out what connection she may have to God.” He glanced at Morgan before addressing the rest of the circle of Elders again. “And from there? Well, we shall see."

  * * * *

  The Elders stood in a circle, the girl at their center
. Everyone was quiet.

  "I'm sorry if this is awkward, my dear,” Hines said from his seat directly in front of her. “But you've raised some complications. We're going to need to ask you some questions. Is that alright?"

  The girl stared intently at her feet, then shrugged.

  "Right.” Hines unfolded his long hands and drew out a card. Each of the Elders had provided a single question to be asked, with additional inquiries to be submitted, depending on how the dialogue developed. Hines shuffled through the stack, then selected a card.

  "How did you come to be in the vessel?” He looked around the room slowly, finally settling his eyes on the girl. “Let's start there. How did you get in the barrel, and when?"

  She rocked forward and back, from her heels to her toes, never taking her eyes off the ground.

  Elder Hines leaned forward. “Do you remember? You do remember, don't you?"

  There was a shifting among the other Elders, and nervous rustling of fabric and discontent as men thumbed open pens and ruffled cards, anxious to ask more questions, anxious for the girl to answer something, anything.

  "Do you, dear?"

  "I'm sorry, no. I don't,” she said quietly.

  "Well. I suppose—” Hines began.

  "You're saying, then, that you're not a stowaway? That's your claim?” Ganthony asked from his seat to one side.

  Hines cleared his throat, loudly shuffled the questionnaires that the other Elders had filled out, then tapped the stack on his desk. “Elder Ganthony. There is a pattern at work here, and I—"

  "You and your friends, I don't suppose they found the vessel. In some river grass, or maybe tangled in a fishing net. That's not what happened, hm?"

  "Ganthony. Enough. We have agreed."

  "Why would I, why would anyone? Seal themselves up in a barrel?” the girl sputtered.

  "Yes, why. Why, girl. That's what I'm interested in. Why did you?"

  "But."

  "Ganthony. Quiet. You will be quiet, or you will leave the assembly."

  Elder Ganthony shrugged his broad shoulders and scowled. Several other Elders, sympathetic to Ganthony and highly suspicious of this little girl, of what her presence in the vessel meant to the order of their church, shifted angrily in their seats.

  "Now. Apparently that's a bit too controversial. Let's see if we can ... ah, yes—” Hines raised a card “—let's start with something easy. Your name. What's your name?"

  The girl glanced at Ganthony nervously, and then at Hines. “I don't think I have a name, Elder."

  Hines sighed. “You've forgotten it, you mean. Everyone has a name, dear. Well. We've got to call you something.” He looked around the Elders, his eyes finally settling on the ceiling. “You know that most of the Wrights are calling you Miss Camilla, yes? Cam?"

  The girl smiled. “I ... Yes, I heard that. Morgan calls me that."

  "Would it be alright, then, if we called you that as well?"

  "It would."

  "Well. One mystery solved.” Hines flipped slowly through the questions he had been given, looking each one over before turning to the next. Finally, he set them down.

  "We've heard a lot about what you don't remember, so far. Let's try a different tack. Tell me, Cam, what do you remember? Before we opened the vessel?"

  Cam sighed. She plucked at the hem of the robe Morgan had made for her. “I remember the boat. Vessel. I remember waking up and seeing Morgan. Wright Morgan. And the smell of hot metal. Part of the river, too. I remember that, but it's different somehow. Like I was dreaming it."

  "You were delirious, perhaps?” Hines prompted.

  "Or stoned,” Ganthony muttered.

  Cam ignored him. “That doesn't seem right.” She was clearly more comfortable now, her nervousness lost in the conversation. “Though I suppose that might be it. Yes, I must have been delirious."

  "And before the river. What do you remember?"

  Cam dropped her eyes again. Eventually, she spoke. “You know."

  "Morgan has told us many things. Unbelievable things. I'd like to hear it from you.” Hines nodded to the room. “I think we all would."

  The room was quiet. Finally, Cam straightened her back and spoke to the ceiling.

  "A river flows like a waterfall through a pipe of cold iron. That pipe is as big as this building, all the way around. Bigger. It's hundreds of feet tall, and there're leaks at all the joins, like the weld is going rotten. The water springs out like, like rain. The floor is covered in water, feet deep. The pipes that come off it, they're old. Falling apart. And the room. It's huge and dark. I can't ... can't hear anything, in this memory. But it must be terribly loud."

  The circle of Elders was quiet. She had spoken so clearly, like a voice recorded on an engram and played back. Now Cam seemed to fold in on herself, like telling the memory had somehow depleted her.

  "I can't believe we're listening to this ... this drivel."

  "Ganthony.” Hines's voice was tired and angry.

  "No, really. Really. Do you know what she's saying?” Ganthony leaned forward and pointed a blunt finger at Cam. “Do you know what you're saying? You're claiming to have been inside the Mountain of God. Inside God!"

  "Well, what are we here? Building God around us, aren't we?” Merril asked. He kept his eyes down, though.

  "There are no people inside the mountain. It is hidden from us, from all of mankind. Hidden, forever, until the algorithm is solved and the pattern is complete. That is the prophecy."

  "That is the translation, Ganthony. The solution so far. But maybe there is more."

  "Enough. You know better, Hines. We all do."

  And Ganthony was right, as far as it went. The Mountain was a mystery. In fact, they only theorized it was a mountain, because the Reine had its headwaters among the mountains to the north. Pilgrims had gone upriver to find the source of the vessels, calculated the approach of the tiny boats, searched the tributaries and headwaters of the Reine. The cities upriver considered the vessels bad luck, had stories about the wooden and brass eggs that had hatched into monsters. Only mighty Veridon dared pluck them out of the Reine, before the vessels tumbled down the massive waterfall that roared within sight of the city, the famous Breaking Wall. But for all their searching, all their calculations and their devotion, no one had found the source of the vessels. They simply appeared, bobbing to the surface, deep in the mountain streams that fed into the miles-wide Reine.

  "It would be a miracle, to have someone who came from inside. A revelation.” Hines smiled broadly.

  "A blasphemy. A lie.” Ganthony stood up. “I call for the test."

  "Take your seat, Elder.” Hines hid his face under his hand. “Okay, yes. I suppose the test. Wright!"

  The door to the room opened and Wright Morgan came in, pushing a ceremonial iron cart. The nearest Elders stood and pulled aside the desks. Morgan pushed the cart into the circle, which closed behind him.

  "Him? Must he be here?” Ganthony asked.

  "It was a request of the girl's. Now, if you protest?"

  "No. He must stay,” Cam said.

  Ganthony looked surprised, squinted at the little girl, then shrugged. “Fine, fine. Let it be."

  "Fine. Now, Miss Cam. We have some things here. Do you recognize them?” He motioned to the cart.

  The surface of the cart was neatly arranged with bits of machine. Cogs, hammers, timing chains, pulleys, a weighted piston. Various things. They shone grease-bright in the friction lamps. Cam shook her head.

  "If you are really some part of God, then these things are second nature to you. Possibly first, eh?” Hines smiled warmly. “If you would, please. Solve them."

  "They're all part of a machine, then? Something you've disassembled?"

  "No.” Ganthony smiled. “They're just random parts. All from the vessels, pieces of God, gifted to us. His servants."

  "But if they're just random?"

  "There is always a pattern, dear. Every cog. And if God is with you, truly, you'll find
it."

  Cam cast a doubtful eye over the assorted machinery. “If there is no one answer, no single plan, well, then how will you know if I've done it right?"

  Hines chuckled. “He is our God, too, dear child. We will know."

  Morgan patted her shoulder. “Don't worry. You'll find it."

  Cam traced her fingers around the metal, lifted various wheels and axles, tried to get two obviously incongruous pieces to fit. Ganthony and his allies began to feel confident in her falseness. She had no idea. None. There was no pattern in her. After a few minutes of watching the girl fumble around with the scattered body of God, Ganthony moved to stand up.

  "This,” she said, lifting a cog. “This was in my vessel."

  Ganthony stopped, half in his chair, half standing in protest. He lowered himself back down and waited.

  Hines raised his eyebrows and looked at Morgan. “Was it?"

  Morgan shrugged. “I have no idea. Possibly. I didn't think of that."

  "Oh, it is.” Cam tapped the cog on her cheek, then pressed it to her forehead. She smiled, clicked the cog on her bright white teeth, then slid it into her mouth. It disappeared, cold metal meshing with her teeth.

  "Ah. Yes,” she said, as hidden mechanisms and memories slipped into place behind her eyes. “I remember now."

  * * * *

  The hallway filled up with holy men, dressed in black robes and huddling in groups of two and three. Some buzzed angrily, some whispered in fear, in awe, in discourse arcane. The stone arches of the Church of the Cog echoed with their voices. They hurried away from the council chamber like a startled hive. In moments, the hallway outside the chamber was empty.

  Elder Hines was the last to leave. He gathered the scattered note cards of the inquisition. He worked slowly, his old fingers clumsy. When he was done the Elder gathered up the thin hem of his robe and left the chamber. In the doorway he paused and glanced back at the two left behind. The girl and the Wright. He shook his head and left.

  Wright Morgan passed a hand over his face. His fingers were white from gripping the edge of his cart. The girl was quiet.

  "Why did you say that? How can you expect them to do that? They'll never take the algorithm apart. All those hours that we've spent, that I've spent.” Morgan's fingers drifted over the tools at his belt, the timing hammer, the peer-eye, the instruments of his complicated devotion. He gathered himself and looked down at her. “Do you have any idea what you're asking?"