The Verse of Sibilant Shadows: A set of tales from the Irrational Worlds

by JM Guillen

  They weren’t invading like carrion crows, and they were not our predators.

  No, the Vyriim were moths, attracted to the mad, undulating darkness that beat like a heart between all worlds. And when that darkness began to seep into a world—

  “No!”

  The cry came from impossibly far away. I felt as if I should care about that sound, but I did not. It seemed petty, small, as lyrical words moved through my mind. An incredible peace fell over me, a happiness that I had no name for.

  My life had been a shadow, a whisper striving to be a song. Compared to this—

  Existence shattered around me, and I felt burning shards of slivered fire in my mind. I opened my eyes and saw the remnants of Firenzei’s face.

  It looked as if something had sliced into him, like the blades of my next-gen katanas. His skin hung loose, and a mass of writhing tentacles poured into my body.

  A stranger’s voice swam between my thoughts.

  Anya, we gotta move. I’m done here. If you can’t—

  I can. The reply felt like a woman who spoke, and for a moment I thought how strange that was, that there should be male and female. It seemed like an abomination to live that way, split in twain and not in blissful unity.

  That was when Anya, her face splattered with blood and her hair like a wild Amazon’s, speared one of my katana through Firenzei’s neck. The pain was like a symphony of agony in my body, and I began to retch.

  I realized she was screaming. It wasn’t through the link, but I could hear the fear and fury in her voice.

  “NO, NO, NO, NO!”

  Then, with one smooth slice, she severed the body of the creatures where they stretched between Firenzei and me. I was splattered in thick liquid warmth, but I didn’t care.

  I was alive. I was myself.

  Frantically, I rolled to the side onto all fours and began to vomit up writhing tentacles. I pulled them from my ears and nose, the horror almost shattering my mind.

  Bishop? Wyatt was there, was frantically typing on his crescent-shaped keyboard. Tell me you’re good to go, Hoss. Designate wants this entire room to be a heap of slag.

  I held up one finger to him nodding. One moment just let me—My stomach clenched again, and I retched up another of the squiggling aberrations.

  As I looked around, I saw that Wyatt and Anya had done well enough in my absence. Apparently the moment they stepped into the room, they also realized it was a breeding pit, and Wyatt had used his spikes to immediately seal things off. From there, they’d still had a firefight, but apparently we had come out on top.

  As I pushed myself up, I saw one of the breeding chambers had fallen over and shattered on the floor. Inside a young woman moved.

  She was alive.

  What about that one? I stood, stumbling toward the young woman. I drew my kinetic disruptors but quickly realized I wouldn’t need them.

  She was barely conscious.

  I saw one of the larvae squirm out of her nose, seeking the liquid puddled around her. I brought a boot down on the creature and felt it satisfactorily squish.

  No time, Hoss. If she’s not a ’Rat, then she’s already dead. These spikes go off in less than a minute.

  The young woman opened her eyes, looking up. They were the brilliant blue of a winter sky, and her black hair hung in rivulets all around her face. She was gasping, like she couldn’t breathe, trying to say something.

  Death would be a mercy for her. She was young and beautiful. In my other life I would have had a hard time saying no to a woman like her.

  But life had brought her here. If not for us, she was fated to be of vessel for madness and depravity.

  Her entire life would have been bedlam. We had at least saved her from that, a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  I turned toward the rest of my cadre, and we left the room.

  Less than a minute later, we felt the thunder as the breeding chamber was reduced to molten metal and liquid stone.

  22

  We were sprinting down the hall when the link came in.

  The extraction conduit is in place. The Designate linked us all at once. There is nothing of use in that building, and the axioms within are altered by Irrational technology.

  Certainly altered. Wyatt’s link was smug

  We have a conduit three blocks away. It has been used multiple times, and therefore is quite secure. It is in an alleyway. I’m sending you the location now. Haste is prescribed.

  “Good.” Wyatt muttered under his breath. “I’m glad she told us. I wanted to hit the conduit all lackadaisical.”

  The stairwell was little more than a fire exit, but it seemed safer than making use of the elevators. After all, elevators could stop, leaving us pinned down as targets for automatic weapons. Hell, some Irrat could throw a grenade down the shaft, which could land right on top.

  Anya wasn’t enjoying the stairwell with her kneecap. I was helping her as best as I could, while Wyatt was guarding point. We encountered only a young woman who looked far more like a secretary than a dangerous Irrational criminal.

  Baseline human. I could still feel the caution in Anya’s link.

  Doesn’t mean she can’t just shoot us. Got it.

  The woman seemed far from threatening, however.

  “Ma’am.” Wyatt nodded at her as we went by.

  She only nodded briskly, obviously horrified at his gore-spattered face. I doubted she even knew what was happening in this building. All but carrying Anya, I nodded as she went by and grimaced at the blood from my shoulder. I didn’t know what the woman thought, but I couldn’t care.

  We had to go.

  The stairwell led straight into the front foyer of the building. The security guard seemed stunned when we crawled out of the side door, limping and bleeding. He lifted his walkie-talkie to his mouth.

  “Do not.” I swung my disruptor toward his face. Fancy tech aside, it looked like a gun. “Put it down or be shot. That simple.”

  The man dropped the walkie-talkie.

  Once outside, we made our way toward the extraction point. On one hand, we were very conspicuous in our tattered state. On the other—

  This was New York City.

  “Here.” I jerked my head toward the alleyway. “Almost home.”

  Wyatt grinned wearily. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop and get a drink?” He chuckled but didn’t slow.

  Location achieved, Designate. I looked down the alleyway. We were clear. There were some teenagers a little way away, practicing parkour by appearance. They wouldn’t know anything other than they had seen three battered people go through a door.

  I looked at the youths but linked Wyatt, Take Anya. I’ll be right behind.

  Only the slightest pause. Copy, Hoss. See you in Neverland. He gave me a nod before stepping through the door.

  I looked around, already hearing the fire sirens. The building we had come out of was catching quite magnificently, partially because of the spikes we had left every few meters as we fled.

  It seemed as if we were not being followed. We were in the clear.

  I turned and made my way into the conduit.

  The moment I stepped through, I felt white light flash in my mind.

  Michael Bishop. Asset number 108. Welcome to Facility 17.

  23

  I don’t remember being patched up. Upon return to any Facility, Assets stood at the ready with the Caduceus packet installed. Within moments of my arrival, I was dispatched to the infirmary, and my shoulder, mostly patched by my overworked mecha, was repaired. They saw the need to briefly put me out, something about excess fluids in my spinal cord after the strange axioms of that place. I didn’t know any of this until they woke me however.

  I looked at the mousy-haired woman who tended to me. Her nametag said Rachel.

  “Where…” My throat sounded and felt as if it had been assaulted by tentacle aberrations. “Where are the other members of my cadre?”

  Wyatt Guthrie is in surgery, of course. Th
e damage done to his face and ocular nerve were extensive. She paused. His stats imply that he was intoxicated for much of the dossier. Rachel tapped a small tablet to modify the viral mecha still in my system.

  And Anya?

  Your Preceptor will require a knee replacement. That procedure is due to take place this afternoon. She is being prepped now. Rachel fluffed my pillow. Relax, 108. Your cadre is well. You are set to be released in less than an hour. I’m certain your Designate will debrief you soon.

  “Thank you, Rachel.” I smiled at her. She gave me a thin smile back, and then left me.

  I lay back.

  I slept.

  24

  After discharge from the infirmary, the Designate indeed debriefed me. We met in a small office in Facility 17, as white and sparse as the rest of the Facility. The Designate herself had linked me the location of the room, and when I arrived, she was waiting. As always, the Designate was crisp, neat, and professional.

  Good evening, 108.

  I smiled. “Is it evening?” I checked my system time. Christ. It was nearly ten at night. Stepping inside, I took a seat.

  The Designate looked at a packet of papers and then smiled at me. As always, Michael, you have performed to specification and beyond. This dossier was a difficult assignment, and yet our reviews of your phaneric records indicate that you performed admirably.

  Difficult, yes. I nodded. It was an unusual mission.

  The extensive data from your cadre should provide all the information we need to understand the source of the Irrationality spikes and the technology used. Based upon our current telemetry, it seems as if the conclusions that your cadre reached on assignment are mostly accurate.

  I’d like to say that I’m glad. However, the things that we uncovered have far-reaching ramifications.

  The Vyriim. Yes. Her smile was quite small. It reminded me of a mandarin version of Anya’s smile. During some of your unfortunate experience with them, you were still connected with me through the Lattice. As a result, we have vastly more information regarding that aberrant species than we did before this dossier.

  The Vyriim were planning an invasion— obviously. I wanted to ask so many things, but I knew that asking would do no good. Even if the Designate decided that I needed to know, I would certainly forget as soon as I was removed from duty.

  I could rest assured that I would be updated with any pertinent information the next time my crown went active.

  Therefore, I kept it simple.

  I trust that there are plans in place to deal with this threat and that I was a vital part in assisting with the Intel on those plans.

  There are, and you were. She gave me that small smile again. For now, however, you are to be inactivated immediately. Before you leave, a white room will be provided to decommission all of your packets and remove your neuralware. Do you have any other questions for me?

  The truth was most of my questions would never matter. The Facility was as dodgy with its own Assets as it was with the outside world.

  “None I can think of, Designate.” I smiled. “I’m just ready to be dormant for a while.”

  She nodded. Easily arranged. She picked up her papers and shuffled them. As she did, she linked me the location of my conduit door not far away.

  Thank you, Michael. As always, we wish you well in the days ahead.

  25

  Sometime around one in the morning, I was back on Nob Hill. I was exhausted. More than anything else, I wanted to get back to my flat, maybe cuddle up with something sweet. My head felt foggy and headachy.

  Of course I was still bandaged up from the accident. I couldn’t believe I didn’t even get the son-of-a bitch’s license plate.

  I meandered around, trying to figure out where I had parked, when I reached into my pocket. My cell was buzzing, as if it had somehow just received several messages at once.

  Nine missed calls. All from Caprice.

  “Michael, I don’t know where you went, but I can’t believe you stepped out on us like that—”

  “Me neither.” It was almost worth laughing. I had stepped out for just a moment to make a call. Caprice had set up a legendary evening for us, and I didn’t want my buddy Wyatt interrupting me. He and I had previous plans, but when Caprice called, I knew that my plans would change.

  With Caprice, it was important to stay fluid.

  When I told him what was going on, Wyatt had totally understood. He had wanted in on whatever was going down of course, but then Wyatt always did.

  That was when that drunken asshole had plowed me over in his Prius. I was lucky to be alive. An ambulance took me to the hospital and patched me up, but I had still missed out. Her voicemails told me that much.

  “Last call, sexy.” Her voice was a purr. “Let me tell you what we are doing, right now—”

  “Fuck. Of all the luck.” As I listened to the call, I groaned. The recording had been exquisite. I had truly missed out on an otherworldly experience.

  Then, I found my car.

  “Finally. First good luck all evening.” I rummaged for my keys. In my jacket pocket, I found a packet of cigarettes.

  “Who do you belong to?” I stared at them stupidly for a moment. Where these mine? Something in my mind—

  No, I didn’t smoke. The EMT must have thought they were mine and put them in my pocket. I crumpled them and threw them in a bin by my car.

  Once inside the car and on my way, I hit redial on my phone. I hoped she wasn’t too mad. Maybe tonight—

  “Michael?” Her voice was the perfect combination of desire and concern.

  “Hey, sweetling.”

  I smiled as I drove into the night.

  ###

  Notes on the work

  This world is a cornerstone in the Irrational Worlds, a story from which many other stories will branch and bend. Here we learn the nature of this work and the battlefield upon which it takes place.

  Namely, the tension between the Rational and the Irrational, science and magic, fact and fantasy.

  It’s a war for reality itself.

  In this first story there are few connections to the rest, as things are just beginning. Still, one should take note of several facts:

  While on the airplane, Bishop peruses data that names several key Irrats in the area. Some of these forshadow important characters that appear later. The first one we will meet is an Irrational known only as “The Gaunt Man.” This creature is not in any way human but casts a long shadow in our world.

  After our heroes are back in Manhattan, one unnamed character has a life-changing experience, which branches off into an entirely new story.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

  Before we speak of Elizabeth Shepherd, it is important for one to understand that there are two sides to the Rational world.

  Outlining this difference is the purpose of our next story.

  September 23, 2002

  Maine, United States

  I have one thousand beginnings.

  No. That’s not right.

  Nigh a thousand thousand, each stranger than the last.

  This one began with me naked on my back against the cool earth.

  The last traces of a dying summer floated on the wind in wisps of summer grass, of laughter, and of dappled shade. It was the perfume of warm twilight and nights sleeping under the singing moon.

  Soon the turbulence of my awakening would pass. For now the world remained blurry. Still tired, I felt as if I should not be awake yet. I tried pushing myself up but felt weak.

  The sun had not yet set.

  That was important for some reason, but I couldn’t focus. My mind was shadows, was fog. I blearily peered around the clearing, trying to figure out why I felt so strangely. Something was wrong, like a note sung out of tune.

  Then, he spoke. “Tommy Maple.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I hadn’t seen him; I hadn’t even known he was there. My Name burned like a star in my mind. His speaking it had rung a
great bell at the center of all things. It was thunder under my skin. Panic tolled behind my mind.

  “Well. Here yeh are.” The voice resounded, ringing from everywhere at once. His voice, like the sun’s hammer, was brilliant and burning and stark. It sounded smug, laughing the laughter of someone who has already won, who knows the answers to questions I had never even thought of.

  Who? How did he—? I tried to look, but heavy as stone, my head hardly lolled in the grass. My red hair hung in my face, dazzling in the slanted light.

  The voice continued. “The thing to remember is, I found yeh. Yer lying there, weak as a puppy. I found yeh, and I have yeh here.” He laughed again.

  I finally managed to face him but could only make out a blurred shape. I tried to speak but only croaked through the cotton and sand that seemed to fill my mouth.

  “So, later, when yeh’re playin’ the part of a young buck, all wild and free, rearin’ to hunt what ails the world, yeh just remember. Remember that I found yeh, just like this. I did it once, and I can do it again.” He leaned in.

  I could see him now, barely make out his stone-weathered face in the light of the dying sun.

  Oh. Oh no.

  Terror tore through me as soon as I realized who he was. Frantically, I reached around myself. Where was my bow? I felt only bare earth and tufts of grass.

  No. I couldn’t risk drawing my bow. Not yet. I took a breath and focused upon the Old Man’s face.

  He wore his long, gray hair pulled back in a simple queue. It matched the salt-and pepper of his beard. His face looked as if it had seen the years dance by hundreds of times. He was strong and powerfully built.

  His eyes gleamed and flickered, utterly mad.

  How had he gained my Name?

  He held me like a hawk held a rabbit. My heart sought to burst from my chest. My fingers grasped at the ground again, seeking my bow though I didn’t know if I could lay him low, even if it did come to my hand.