More to the point, it helped him avoid thinking about what he’d tasted in her light––what some part of his aleimi still tugged and obsessed on and fucking tasted, seemingly without him having any ability to control it.
It had been really hard not to yell at her.
Really, really fucking hard.
Kneeling in front of the organic control panel of the warehouse-sized fusion generator, he glanced at his watch, knowing without looking how much time had passed.
Thirty-eight minutes, fourteen seconds.
The watch reflected the same. Looking at the watch was ritual.
Fundamentally irrational, like all rituals.
It was also a means of motivating himself to move his ass.
He was already behind. His time got fucked as early as the stairs.
He’d more or less run, full-tilt down those eight steep staircases, using his light partly to see and partly to keep his feet from missteps, scanning from higher parts of himself for more tactical purposes aboveground and deeper below.
No one had been guarding the opening.
He’d managed to move more or less invisibly across the City’s grounds, using various shields and light disguises and even some careful pushes––but mostly because the vast majority of seers and humans he’d encountered were far too distracted to pay attention to him, particularly when they couldn’t see his light.
As a result, getting to that corner of the wall by the horse paddocks hadn’t been difficult.
The staircase, on the other hand, had been––rough.
Worse than he remembered.
He’d been sweating bullets by the time he reached that seventh landing. His heart had been hammering in his chest, and not only from physical exertion. He’d been fighting the edges of a full-blown panic attack, even after detaching a good portion of his light from his body and edging that part further out in increments as his panic worsened.
Nineteen minutes, twelve seconds.
That was the full amount of time that passed before he made it to that landing, starting where he’d left the wall and Allie.
He’d definitely miscalculated times for the fucking stairs.
He’d forgotten he’d been drunk that night. His mental timepiece had been off. Moreover, he had his ass kicked in the aftermath, which probably hadn’t helped in terms of his memory of those events.
It would take longer to climb out.
He should have asked Allie for more time for the goddamned stairs.
He couldn’t think about that now, though.
Finding the fusion generator hadn’t been hard.
Six and a half minutes.
Twenty-five minutes, forty-one seconds running count.
More time got sucked up while he tried to figure out why he couldn’t turn the damned thing on, or get any of the organic machines to talk to him despite the fact that he could feel them powered up and conscious all around him.
It took another handful of seconds before he admitted to himself he likely wouldn’t be able to figure out what the problem was, not in time.
Twelve minutes, forty-eight seconds.
Edging damned close to that forty minute mark.
The organic wasn’t listening to a single fucking thing he’d asked it to do.
It wasn’t like the AI he’d encountered before, the one that wouldn’t let him into the sentient room. This was some kind of total fucking lockdown––like he didn’t even have access to argue with the damned thing.
He had maybe five more minutes to screw around with it.
Six, tops. Then he had to make a decision.
He bled more of his light into the living light of the machine, using the higher levels of his aleimi to try and elicit a response.
He wondered if he could crack the aleimic structure of the organic, like he’d done with that door. There might not be manual controls for this thing, though, not that he could figure out in time. Turning on a fusion reactor wasn’t exactly the same as opening a door.
Moreover, Revik had no idea if killing its organic “mind” and the living components of the reactor would basically destroy the machine itself.
He couldn’t get enough of a grip on it to even attempt to hack the damned thing––
Jem could do it.
Jem would have this thing opening like a fucking flower right now.
The thought popped into his head, bringing a flush of anger so intense he could only sit there for a few seconds, fighting to control his light.
Anyway, he had no idea if it were even true.
Even Garensche hit walls now and then, especially with some of Menlim’s toys.
Forcing Dalejem out of his mind and light, he focused back on the machine, trying to coax his way inside the morphing strands. The thing kept sliding away from him, though, going from an amoeba to a more sophisticated life form, then all the way down to a near-deadline pattern that barely contained a flicker of consciousness at all.
What access would I need to discuss options? he asked it, bleeding his Elaerian light into the living parts of the panel.
Silence.
Who would you let in? he sent, trying again. Who are you looking for, friend?
Silence.
Request information on option to override controls with telekinesis, he sent, just to see what it would say. Possible damage to autonomy of living component.
When it still didn’t answer him, he exhaled in irritation.
“What if I just cracked you in half, you bitch?” he muttered, feeling his jaw harden as the animosity in his light grew hotter. “Would you talk to me then?”
That time it shocked him.
Meaning, the mechanism gave him an actual electrical shock, something physical.
The pulse came out of the floor, hitting him in the knees and his hand where he leaned on the tile. It startled him enough that he regained his feet in reflex, stepping away.
He stood there. Panting.
Taking another step back when nothing further happened, he stopped around six feet from the generator’s open panel. The physical shock hadn’t been hard enough to cause more than a lingering dull pain in his joints.
He looked around at the walls and floor of the machine room, then at the green mirrored ceiling before his eyes rested back on the reactor’s control panel.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
Looking up, he scanned for surveillance cameras with his eyes, wondering if the shock had come from somewhere or someone else.
He couldn’t feel anyone. Human or seer.
Organic lights seethed all around him, more than what his eyes could account for. None felt human or seer. None felt animal––not in the usual sense.
They felt like machines, despite the presence living in that light.
Reaching out tentatively with his aleimi, he felt over the floor before exploring a portion of the nearest wall.
It shocked him again.
Revik felt his jaw harden. He checked his watch.
Forty-four minutes, forty-one seconds.
Standing there, feeling those strands weave around his light, he knew.
Somehow he knew.
Fear slid through his light as the realization sank in, vibrating his skin.
“Fuck,” he muttered, staring at the floor.
The floor rippled a bit, as if in agreement with him.
“I am sorry,” he said, aloud to the machine. “I made a mistake.”
The machine didn’t answer him.
He knew, though. He knew he was right.
This whole damned complex was connected to that thing in the room. In fact, that thing in the room was this complex––its brain, at least. Which meant the fusion generator wasn’t going to turn on for him. That AI wasn’t going to help him melt down the core of its own goddamned fusion reactor so he could try to kill it.
He gave himself another span of time to consider options.
Forty-six minutes, four seconds.
It would take
him another twenty-five to thirty to get back to the surface from here.
It could take as much as twenty more to get past the main gate. That was assuming no real problems, which might be unlikely, given the heaviest fighting between Shadow’s people and the Lao Hu had been near Tiananmen Gate.
He had a secondary exit if he didn’t make it to the square in time. He could find his own way to the airport, meet them there within another two hours.
His light twisted in a harder knot as he thought.
He didn’t want to miss that first window.
He didn’t know why, exactly; he couldn’t rationalize the fear that came over him at the thought. He knew it might be pure emotion––a reaction to the AI being, or maybe just the fact it could probably kill him right now, if it wanted.
He had about a minute to decide. One minute.
After that, the decision to go for the second exit would be made for him.
Assuming the room would let him leave.
He frowned, fighting to think.
The thing hadn’t tried to kill him yet. He had no concrete reason to believe it would. All he knew at this point was that the room itself––meaning the AI brain he’d encountered before––had once thought very seriously about killing him.
It hadn’t killed him though––that time, either.
Moreover, Revik wasn’t in that room now.
Then again, even if he was right in his surmise that every organic in this complex was connected to that room in some way, it didn’t necessarily follow that the level of sentience or sophistication in the organic matter would be the same. Like a foot or a hand could be controlled by a singular intelligence, these rooms and machine might be equally limited in basic form and function––differentiated from one another in the same way a liver was differentiated from one’s kidneys or heart.
The thought reassured him.
But not very much.
Forty-seven minutes, thirty-two seconds.
He knew what Allie would say.
She would tell him to get the fuck out of there.
She would tell him it wasn’t worth the risk, that they could try and take this thing out from a distance.
He wasn’t sure he disagreed with her.
In fact, after a few seconds more, he realized he didn’t disagree with her.
Forty-seven minutes, forty-eight seconds.
Yeah. He was getting the fuck out of there.
If he hauled ass, he could still make the pick-up in Tiananmen.
Backing away from the raised panel as the thought solidified, he turned his back on it entirely when nothing happened.
Then he began moving a lot faster.
Walking to the edge of the dais, he jumped down to the main floor, about two meters down. He’d barely regained his balance before he crossed the organic tiles to the nearest dead-metal ladder and grasped a rung just above eye-height, pulling himself up without hesitation. He climbed the ladder rapidly but steadily, controlling his breathing––not looking down.
He intended to run up those fucking stairs.
He’d need his lungs for that.
He didn’t look back at all until he’d climbed past five separate catwalk floors, reaching the original walkway he’d taken into this room both times he’d been here.
Exhaling in relief, he glanced down at the reactor only then.
When he didn’t feel so much as a ripple in the Barrier related to his departure, he began jogging back the way he’d come.
He felt something in his gut begin to relax as he did.
When he reached the other side of the organic wall, he didn’t hesitate, laying his hand on the panel and asking to be let in.
Politely.
Maybe borderline submissively polite at that point, but he didn’t much care about that, either. All he wanted was for the thing to let him through.
Whatever the appropriateness of his etiquette towards the living machine, the door opened without protest.
Walking across the length of the room, Revik spoke directly to the wall as soon as he’d reached the other side, again keeping his light carefully polite.
Friend, I would like to enter the next room, please.
Silence. The door did not move.
Revik bit his tongue, hard enough to hurt. Even so, he didn’t change the tenor of his light, keeping it overtly calm. Peaceful.
He addressed the room again.
I wish only to leave. To go in peace. Will you not open for me?
Silence.
Revik glanced around at the four walls, aware suddenly that the thing felt a hell of a lot more awake than either time he’d walked through this room before. His heart started beating harder in his chest, even as that feeling of the walls closing in on him grew more intense.
Fifty minutes, eight seconds.
Revik glanced around the room, hands on his hips. Contemplating things he might offer the room, he exhaled in a sigh.
Please let me out, he sent. Please. I won’t be back.
That time, there was a pregnant-feeling pause.
Revik tensed as the room seemed to move in some distant part of his light, confusing his aleimi. He glanced up, right as the dark green ceiling rippled directly overhead. He followed the motion with his eyes, seeing the organic material begin to pool and thicken along a different segment of wall.
“No,” he said aloud, frowning. He tapped the wall in front of him. “No. I want to go out the way I came. Take me back to the other room… the one with the vats.” He hesitated, then had another thought. “…Or take me up. Take me to the surface. That would be best. I would be most appreciative of that, friend. Most appreciative.”
There was another pause.
Then the organic reconfigured again, pooling this time in front of where Revik stood.
The door in front of him began to open.
Relief flooded Revik’s light. He stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, ready to bolt through the opening as soon as it was wide enough.
At that point, all he cared about was getting out.
Even if the elevator had taken him back to the room with the vats, everything beyond this door would be simple organics. Doors with locks he could break easily with the telekinesis, even if the organics themselves refused to cooperate.
His relief died as soon as his eyes focused on what waited for him on the other side of that opening.
It wasn’t the cavern with the giant vats.
It definitely wasn’t the area of lawn by the horse paddocks.
Low-ceilinged, most of the room lay in darkness, outside of his visual range. In front of him stood a round, raised platform, dimly lit and with a panel on a stand, what looked like a handprint scanner.
“No.” Revik clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “No! I won’t go in there.”
The walls of the sentient elevator were already reconfiguring around him. They didn’t push him out through the opening. They instead melted that opening around him, withdrawing and reconstituting the wall behind where Revik stood, with him on the other side of it.
When he turned his head, moving back in that same direction, his palms, fingers and eyes met only a flat, blank wall.
Around him, the presence pulsed, waiting.
“No, goddamn it!” he said. “Let me out! Let me out of here!”
Silence greeted him, pregnant but still.
Revik’s heart started to beat louder in his chest. It deafened him, pounded against his ribs, caught in his throat, made it difficult to think. Clenching his jaw, he looked around at the dark room. His gaze returned to the single beam of light which fell down on the handprint scanner in the middle of that raised platform.
After another breath, he realized he had no choice.
There was no where else to go.
59
TREE OF KNOWLEDGE
ONCE HIS FOOT landed on the edge of that platform, the lights slowly rose, illuminating the same long, rectangular room he remembered.
&
nbsp; The lowered wash of floor appeared, brightened first by those lights, then by a different glow emanating from the organic tiles.
The brushed metal manhole covers he remembered no longer dotted the mirrored floor, though. Instead of being flush with the dark-green tile, the cylinders were already up. Moreover, someone had smashed the glass casings around every single one.
Bodies spilled across the floor. Vacant stares.
Gauged out faces and mouths.
Ripped out intestines and organs.
Bite marks. Pieces missing.
Limbs that had been ripped inelegantly out of sockets.
“Gaos.” He breathed the word, fighting to control the panic that wanted to spill over his light. The bodies weren’t alive, he knew that, but something about the brutality he could see, the base animalism of what had been done to them, caught in his throat.
“Gaos,” he repeated, hoarse.
He fought nausea, a sudden desire to empty his stomach.
He hadn’t eaten anything, though. His stomach didn’t really do squeamish, either. He’d never been able to throw up easily, even when he wanted.
He stared around instead, fighting to calm his light, to make sense of what he could see.
Bodies… fucking everywhere. Not a single one appeared to be untouched, but Revik didn’t see many that had suffered the exact same fate, either. Whoever had done this approached each individual body with a different means of defacing them.
Throats cut. Limbs in unnatural positions, positions they could only be in if the bones inside were smashed and broken beyond recognition. Faces cut and slashed. A few of them were covered in burns. Someone had defecated on one of them. Revik found himself thinking from the positions and body secretions on their skin, at least a few had been sexually violated, too.
Fingers, hands and genitalia in mouths and on the floor. Eyes gauged out. Spines crushed. Skulls that looked smashed, as if by some blunt object. Torsos that had been gutted as if in some Japanese samurai sword ritual, spilling cold white intestines and other organs over the floor, covered in coagulated blood.
Very little blood made it to the floor, however, probably because their hearts hadn’t been pumping when their flesh and bones were ripped apart.
“Gaos,” he muttered, quieter.
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