Monster Age

by GR Griffin

  The platform stopped with another shaking clunk before rotating a few notches to the right. It dropped another foot, then plunged as if its holdings failed. Fleck was thrown upwards; their bonds keeping them attached to the bed. Every organ under the ribcage rose to the top, wanting to burst through their chest. A scream got stuck in Fleck's throat, stopping a peep from getting out.

  The bed rocketed downwards at a thousand miles per hour. Fleck's panicky thoughts were buried under the rapid tumbling and rushing air. Blips of white light pulsed at the same rate as their heartbeat. The platform twisted until it was horizontal and slipped – while maintaining the same breakneck speed – through a tight gap. Fleck's nose was centimetres away from the rushing architecture of girders and supports. Their stomach pushed it was up to their throat; that sandwich wasn't going to taste better the second time.

  Suddenly, they were no longer gunning straight down, but diagonally, straight, up and down through a mesh of tunnels and passageways. Detours and side tunnels passed all around in an interconnecting maze one could get lost in for a whole lifetime. They slowed and jittered to a halt at a crossroads before a rolling chain transported them left.

  After a long and longwinded journey, the mattress and white sheets levelled out, placing the human using it was back on top. They reached the end of the tunnel and stopped in a dark room.

  "Hope you enjoyed the ride."

  Fleck expected the cuffs to open, but they did not. For minutes, Fleck remained where they were, lying on the desecrated bed, still chained to it.

  Eventually, a door on the wall to their left opened, but little light shone through. The faint silhouette reached to the right with an absurdly long appendage and smacked something. Florescent lights flickered above, turning the dark room light.

  Fleck got a good look at the monster who they figured their kidnapper. An old monster. Standing tall and thin, he might have been taller and bulkier in his youth. He hobbled forward with small steps; his right fist gripped around the handle of a black walking stick. His pale yellow, long-sleeved, button-down shirt was heavily creased and thick with perspiration in the underarms, half tucked under a pair of white, dirt-smeared trousers and white slippers. His stern face had the reddish colour and shape of a koi fish, except for prominent human features such as a nose, small mouth, white sclera around pitch black irises, and hair: a full head of combed back, white hair and a white beard that reached the top button of his shirt. A thick pair of glasses lay on the bridge of his nose, enlarging his black eyes and the wrinkles surrounding them. Several tiny arms with varying sizes of lenses hung over his head, attached to his glasses.

  The worn, metal tip of his cane beat in rhythm with the man's movements. He would bring it down then take two steps forward. Thud, two steps. Thud, two steps. Thud, two steps. This slow technique somehow made him appear faster. He was stood before Fleck in no time.

  Fleck was about to speak when the elderly figure whipped his cane up and stopped the tip under Fleck's chin, gently pushing it up to get a better look at their face. He snapped his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and one of the mechanical arms whirled in front of his spectacles, adding lenses over lenses.

  The extreme close up of his eyes allowed Fleck to catch the lower eyelids twitching. He found standing on his own two feet quite discomforting, painful in fact.

  The old man hummed, displaying indifference as he aimed the cane from their chin to their cheek, turning Fleck's head to one side. "Not nearly as strange up-close as I imagined," he said as he turned Fleck's head the other way. His voice was weathered, but deep and gravelly, sounding like a man who would not take old age lying down.

  The cold tip returned to the floor where it belonged, and he could finally allow it to bear a portion of his weight. "I know why you're here," he continued with his notable tone that sent shivers running up Fleck's spine. "You've only just arrived and, already, you've been asking a lot of questions. To be more specific, one question asked many times, all regarding the whereabouts of a certain… Professor Haze."

  He raised his free left arm no higher than an inch as if gesturing to himself. "Well… here I am," he announced dully, unsmiling and without any sort of amusement lacing his cold tone.

  Fleck's expression lit up. This was him, Professor Haze, the one who built the machine that dragged them to the Outerworld. If he helped to bring them to his world, then he had a way to send them back. Did he?

  Fleck asked Professor Haze if he had a way of getting them back home, because this human really, really wanted to get home.

  "In a manner of speaking, yes," Professor Haze answered. "Although, I would like to continue this on a more civilised level." As he said the word civilised, he glanced at the chains and shackles. He whacked the side of the bed with his cane and the cuffs all opened up simultaneously.

  Haze had his back turned, making his way to the door while Fleck tended to their sore wrists. He stopped at the entrance and turned his head slightly over his shoulder. "Come out when you're ready, but be quick about it." He rapped his cane against a small panel built into the wall then staggered out the room. "You've got ten minutes."

  As the door shut, the panel opened. Inside lay a folded striped shirt, shorts, boots, underwear and socks. Fleck's clothes were clean and citrus fresh and the footwear had been polished to a shiny sheen.

  Jumping off the bed, Fleck wasted no time in getting dressed.

  Chapter 25: The Professor

  Back in their clothes after being separated for a short while, Fleck eagerly went to turn the door handle. They grabbed the metal and applied pressure slowly.

  Sweet anticipation grew within the child's spirit, they were so close to home they could almost taste it. If Fleck had finally, well and truly reached the end of their journey, then they could not have been in a better condition than they were. A little dinged up, a few bruises, but with themself and their clothes smelling like roses, Asgore and Toriel would had something nice to cuddle upon their return. Seeing them in good shape, still walking and smiling and laughing, would quell all their worries.

  Fleck could not stop thinking about how their return was going to play out. No doubt a call would be put out to the others if they weren't already at their house. Papyrus would be overjoyed and most likely want to fill them up with undercooked spaghetti and burned pasta sauce. For once, Fleck welcomed the idea; the thought of real food after two days of nothing but phoney stuff sounded enticing, even if his warranted much revision. Sans would act chill and aloof, crack a pun or two as if the whole thing was some harmless sleepover. Undyne would congratulate them on sticking it to these guys, maybe give them training lessons on how to best stay anchored to the ground if another abduction occurred. And Alphys would…

  Fleck stopped, the handle halfway down. If there was one thing they struggled to shake these past couple of days, it was the look on Alphys's face before their unforeseen departure from Earth. Her eyes, wide and shaking from the tension; claws, slipping on the bone; voice, cracked with anxiety. It was her link where the chain was broken and Fleck was carted off the land they were in. Fleck had a terrible feeling that Alphys, acting like her old self, would handle it the hardest, burdening the entire blame on her shoulders. She was one of the monsters with the lowest self-esteem from the Underground, second only to Napstablook, and Whimsun, and Shyren, and Loox, and So Sorry, and Tsunderplane to some degree. No doubt she will have spent the last couple of days kicking herself herself over what happened.

  Next chance Fleck got, they would devote plenty of time to Alphys: watch some anime; write some fanfiction; eat some instant ramen; riff on Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2; anything to let her know that everything was A-okay between them, that they did not blame her one bit for what transpired.

  All of them would want to hear about what happened while they were up in the sky and, boy, did Fleck have a story for them. All they had to do was figure out how best to tell it without Toriel fainting on the Shattered Zone part.

  All those da
ydreams were not going to happen on their own, especially inside that room. Fleck pulled the handle down and exited through the open door.

  Fleck stepped into a place that could be called a circular living area, a cluttered one at best. The walls were uncovered and unpainted, merely a gutted tree trunk that stretched twelve feet upwards. No rings hinted toward its age. What meagre furniture in the expanse – a few chairs, a couple of cabinets, a bookcase, a shelf, and a bed – were crowded around boxes full of paper. In the centre, a spiral staircase descended deeper down to the darkness below. They had already travelled so far down in the tunnel, how much deeper did these trees go before they dug all the way through the roots and out the underside of the island itself?

  Professor Haze was sat in an armchair facing the door; back straight and both hands holding the walking stick in front of himself. His enlarged eyes were aimed on the door. Fleck imagined that is all he did since he exited to allow them to dress.

  "That was quick," Haze said. Surprisingly, Fleck thought he would say the opposite, that they took their precious time. He pressed down on his cane, pushing himself upright. "Good. That mentality will serve you well in time… or lack thereof."

  Fleck pulled a puzzled face. What did he mean by lack thereof?

  The professor gestured with his stick toward the circular stairs leading down the rabbit hole. "All my work is down in my laboratory." He began to walk toward the foot of the steps. "This way."

  Just as Fleck was about to follow, a face that they recognised caught their attention from the top of the nearby cabinet. It was their own, plastered on another of those posters dotted around the seven islands. They first thought nothing of it until a slight difference drawn them to it. Beneath their front and side sketch, and scribbled in red ink over the description were two words:

  Get ready

  "Child," Professor Haze snapped, one inch away from the top step. His free hand firmly on the inner rail and a strict expression wrinkling his brow. "Don't make me have second thoughts on you this early." He punctuated his tone with a tap of his cane.

  Fleck took the wanted poster of themself and held it for the professor to see, pointing toward the red words.

  "What? You thought I wasn't expecting you? That your appearance caught me off guard? No, no, no, I have anticipated your arrival since you got here. Now get over here."

  After placing the poster back where they found it, Fleck scampered over the wooden floor until they were behind him. Haze began his descent, taking the steps one at a time. From the way he walked, one would reckon that he did not need the walking stick, yet there it was supporting his every second step. Fleck struggled to keep up.

  The stairs were carved from the trees own inners, spiralling inwards on itself. The hole got smaller the deeper they descended, its light grew dimmer with each step. His eyesight may have been failing, but Haze was still an avid fan of the dark, having grown accustomed to it through decades of solitude.

  "So… why exactly did you come here?" Haze asked without warning, stopping on the next step. Fleck almost bumped into the back of him, just clenching themself on the railings. The professor gradually turned as he said his next words: "Did you honestly think it would be that easy? That your little adventure comes to a close simply because you found me? That I would just send you home on some ray of light, right here, right now?" He now fully faced the creature of another race. "Answer me: if we monsters really had a way of getting off this sham of a world, then why are we still here?"

  That question landed on the human child like a ton of bricks. To pose a question like that was to put their whole ordeal into perspective, and Fleck realised that he had a serious point. If he had an exit to the Outerworld all along, these two would not be having this conversation in the first place.

  Fleck let out a whimper, fear brewing in the pit of their gut. Did this mean there was no way to get home?

  Haze grimaced. "There is a way to return you home, but not in the way your juvenile mind has come to believe. Your situation – our situation – is much more complex than you realise." He grumbled, turning himself back around. "Come, we are wasting time."

  He resumed downwards on the winding steps, sinking deeper down the black hole of his hideout. Fleck stood motionless for a few seconds before quickly catching up. At its narrowest, the hole stopped at another bare, unassuming door that Haze twisted open.

  At first glance, Fleck did not need to be told that this was his laboratory. Grey floors that were easy to clean, blue painted walls, and ceilings buzzing with rows of florescent lights were all the rage for the humble scientist. No room for feng shui, just experiments and breakthroughs. Fleck thought the living area above was the area of the tree trunk, yet the lab lay over a hundred feet ahead. The left and right walls were built with an array of terminals and machines, not so far off the kind Geoffrey used to harness complete control over Ice Island. Rows of worktops lined the floor, each one held a different experiment on its top.

  "Do you like it?" Haze asked. Before Fleck could get a word in edgewise, he answered, "I hope so. You try spending a hundred and fifty years stuck in here."

  Fleck tried to imagine the time spent within these four walls, going around in circles for a century and a half, finding the thought boggling as they used their own meagre life as a reference. They and their youthful vigour got bored just being in the same room for ten minutes.

  Haze walked to the right, banking around the nearest workbench. The clean floor intensified the tapping of the metal tip. "First, I feel that you deserve some explanation as to how you got here," he said. "I've kept a record of all my creations over here."

  An age old trope of the weathered scientist would be to forget where certain objects were placed, usually digging through scraps of unfinished work before stumbling upon the long forgotten thing, or someone else effortlessly finds it lying around. Not this professor: he knew where everything was at all times. A display of pictures lay on top of the next workbench, each attached to their assigned blueprints and constructions notes.

  Professor Haze slid back two other inventions and located the machine on a faded black and white photo, stopping a moment to raise his eyebrows. "This is the Transporter, as we called it," he said, picking up the fat stack of papers. The paperclip was barely keeping them together. "Not an easy accomplishment by any means, it harnesses the same energy that keeps this world afloat and replicated how it transported the first monsters who found the Outerworld, only on a much smaller scale. This is what brought you here, child."

  He handed the papers to the child. The old picture was all that interested Fleck. The Transporter was a large machine with a screen that allowed an aerial view of the Earth. Bet that must have been an entertaining sight to those observing when they got abducted, watching as the human's monster friends formed a desperate line to keep them tethered to the ground.

  "I spent ten years working on that, pouring hours upon hours into getting the calculations just right just so they could argue for the next two hundred years over how to use it," Professor Haze lamented away while Fleck flicked through the rest of the papers, finding the equations, sketches, notes, and scientific jargon nothing but gobbledegook to them. "Some suggested certain resources, some suggested specific technology, some even suggested abducting a human, but there were always those who acted against it. For decades, this machine was left, having never been used a single time… until now."

  Fleck snapped their gaze up to the professor, about to ask a question when he suddenly pressed his cane against their lips. "Don't think for one second that I never tried to reverse the Transporter's effects," he sharply interjected, having predicted that question from the moment he brought it up. "I've tried for more years than your kind can live to send ourselves back down to Earth, and nothing worked. I can't explain why, it just doesn't work like that here." He turned, lowered his cane to support himself. "Come over here. I want to show you something."

  More clicking turned Fleck away from the pho
tograph. The professor headed toward one of the many terminals that situated the nearest wall. At first glance, there appeared to be nothing unusual or special about this computer to make it stand out from all the rest: a screen with a keyboard and touchpad. The monitor's glow tinted his skin an easy shade of blue.

  "Here," Haze explain, motioning toward it as he neared, "I secretly keep track of all Castle Highkeep's energy usage." He slide his finger on the touchpad, navigating the mouse to a file, whereupon he clicked the left button twice to open it. A succession of line graphs appeared, each with a different title and a different series of mountains and valleys. "Down to the tiniest variable."

  He scrolled down the graphs and located one called Transporter. It consisted of a single yellow straight line with a massive spike on the right side.

  "This is the usage on the Transporter. This huge spike we see here is from yesterday… I don't need to explain why." Haze's words brought back that little reminder. "However, that's not the odd thing here."

  Professor Haze traced his finger again and again to the right on the tracker pad, revealing it energy usage from last week, then the week before that, then the week before that one. It was all straight, at one with the x-axis. Suddenly, several strokes later, another spike appeared. "You see this spike right here? This is from several weeks ago, indicating that the Transporter was used during this time. You, Fleck, are actually the second person it's been used on."

  Fleck drew closer to the graph, reading the date in which the spike occurred. The one thing they could gleam from it was that it happened three days after the barrier was destroyed.

  If Fleck was not the first person to be abducted to the Outerworld, then who was?

  "No idea. Rumours on what happened are vague, very few know about it. Who or what was brought up here remains a mystery to me, but one thing is certain: a week later, Juhi appointed someone as his first royal advisor." Haze grunted as if something was off. "For a whole two centuries Juhi sat on that throne, and every day he insisted on making his own decisions, relying on nothing but his own judgement whether it was right or wrong. Some may not have agreed, but he maintained peace for all that time. Six weeks before his death, he suddenly got a change of heart."