Max Quick

by Mark Jeffrey

  “It wasn’t an intelligence test. It was a humor test.”

  “What?”

  “Only people who have a sense of humor are allowed here.”

  “Yeah. About that. Where is here?” Ian asked.

  “Here is a different kind of everywhere. And no place in particular.”

  Max, Casey, and Sasha stared in confusion.

  “Which means nothing to no one,” the man added. “But first things first: introductions!

  “My name is Enki. Well, one of my names, anyway. I’ve had so many. Enki, Thoth, and Prometheus are some; Hermes and the more recent Mr. E are others. But before we continue, I feel I should be honest about something. I am not really here, strictly speaking. I am a simulated version of me, a sort of hologram. I act and talk and think like the real Enki would, but I am not actually real.

  “I should also warn you that there is a certain danger in speaking with me. I am a guardian of sorts and I must behave as my maker made me to. Should you ask certain questions or attempt to wrest knowledge from me, I will be compelled to slay you.”

  Max, Ian, Casey, and Sasha looked at one another uncomfortably. What had happened to the jovial man they had just been speaking with a moment ago?

  This is the same man who made the Pendant, Max reminded himself. Mr. E is dangerous. They all needed to remember that.

  “One moment, Mr. E,” Max said. “I want to talk with my friends for a second. Is that all right?”

  Mr. E bowed; evidently permission was given.

  The foursome huddled on the far side of the platform.

  “So,” Max said. “What do you guys want to do?”

  “He says he’s a guardian of knowledge,” Casey said. “Must be knowledge about the Pendant.”

  Ian shrugged. “We have to ask him about it.”

  “But if we ask about that specifically he could kill us,” said Sasha.

  “All right. We start small. Don’t ask about the Pendant directly just yet,” Max said. “Ask about other stuff. Okay? We’ll inch up to it.” The others nodded and returned to Mr. E.

  “I’ll start,” Ian said nervously. “Um. Okay. Mr. E. Are you an alien? Well, the real you, anyway. Like Jadeth?”

  Mr. E bowed. “Yes. We are from a world called Nibiru. The sun of Earth and of Nibiru are one and the same.”

  Sasha’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s another planet in our own solar system? One we don’t know about?”

  Mr. E laughed. “You would be surprised at what all you don’t know.”

  “Okay. What about me?” Max asked. “I’m not human either, am I?”

  Mr. E scowled, as if this were a dangerous line of questioning. But he simply shook his head. “No.”

  Sasha snapped her head at Max. “What? You’re one of them?”

  “Sasha,” Ian whispered in her ear. “Later with that. Please?”

  Max continued: “Is that why I don’t ever seem to age?”

  “You do age—just very slowly. Time moves differently here than on Nibiru.”

  Again, Mr. E scowled angrily. Max sensed danger lurking down this line of questioning, but he needed answers.

  Max swallowed. “Exactly how old am I?”

  Mr. E rose to his feet. His eyes glowed like orange embers. “You should not have asked that.”

  The tower shook and the foursome braced themselves. Had they tripped a fatal question?

  Yet Max was not dissuaded. Ian hissed a warning, but Max stepped forward aggressively. “Why not? I only asked about myself. That shouldn’t be off-limits.” He hadn’t even asked about the Pendant yet.

  “You don’t know what you ask!” Mr. E shouted back. “You don’t know the danger in such knowledge! Withdraw your question!”

  The shaking became more violent.

  “Why? Will you kill one of us if I don’t?” Max asked.

  Mr. E’s face became a mask of conflicted anguish. “No. But there will be a price,” he said at last.

  “Then I will pay it,” Max said. “Answer the question.”

  “Very well,” Mr. E said. “You are twelve thousand years old. By Earth reckoning.”

  Twelve thousand—!

  Thousand?

  That couldn’t be right. And how could time be different on Nibiru? Even on another planet, time itself would be the same. Right?

  Casey nodded to herself. So that explains Max’s scars. Twelve thousand years was a lot of time—enough for lots of injuries. She blinked back a tear. How could she imagine what Max’s life had been like? How many times had he been hurt?

  “Mr. E . . . do you know who my parents are?” Max asked.

  Mr. E stared wistfully back into his watery eyes. “No, Max. I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  Max’s face fell. But the shaking subsided abruptly, tracking Mr. E’s change in mood.

  Sensing that Max needed some time to process Mr. E’s answer, Casey said, “My turn now. What is . . . ?” she began, and then trailed off, unsure how to frame the question. “How . . . ?”

  “Yes, Casey?” Mr. E asked.

  “What is with this place? I don’t know how to explain it. Everything seems like a special effect.”

  Max blinked. Casey was right. How had he not noticed that before? Everything was more vivid. Colors were lusher, richer, more potent. Detail was sharper, more precise. Sounds were crisper, packed with more texture. Even the air smelled tangier and richer.

  And then Max blinked as he realized that he was looking at an impossible color.

  It was in the threads of the rug beneath their feet. It was a primary color, like blue, red, or yellow. But it was a new primary color, one he had never seen before. It was like seeing blue for the very first time.

  How can there be a new primary color?

  “That’s called Vreen,” Mr. E said with a low chuckle. “And if you look around the edges of the rug, you’ll also see Nraple and Grinlo.”

  Mr. E was right: Two more new, never-before-seen primary colors formed designs around the edge of the sumptuous rug.

  “That is my new favorite color,” Sasha said in awe. “When I get home, everything in my room: Vreen!”

  “How is this possible?” Max asked.

  Mr. E smiled. “This Isle is an oasis in the heart of the Dreamtime itself. You are nearer the true core of reality.”

  “The Dreamtime?” Max asked.

  “Together, we all dream the universe into being,” Mr. E explained. “We call this phenomenon the Dreamtime. Mind exists on a deeper order of reality, an order from which time, space, and matter emanates.

  “Incidentally, this is how a Book works. The Book itself has no actual power. Rather, it is your mind beholding the Book that has the power. The Book guides your mind, shapes your thoughts, and in doing so, shapes the Dreamtime, and thus alters your reality. This is how Word-magic works.”

  Ian looked very skeptical. “Wait. There’s no such thing as magic and magic words. There’s only technology. All this—everything we’ve seen—Sky Chambers, the Pocket, Whispering Stones—it’s some sort of super-science. Right?”

  Mr. E shrugged. “You can think of it as science. Or you can think of this as magic. It doesn’t really matter. It’s the same thing. Two sides of one coin.”

  “It is not the same thing!” Ian replied.

  “You are good with computers, right Ian?”

  That caught Ian off guard. “Well, yeah, but—”

  “And when you create software, do you not enter words into the computer?”

  “Sure, but I don’t—”

  “Magic words? Special words that cause the computer to do things?”

  “That’s not fair. That is totally different.”

  “No, it isn’t. Not really. Only the scale is different. Why do you think sorcerers call magic a spell? Because they are respelling, rearranging the words that make up the universe.

  “Or if you insist on being absolutely scientific, you can think of the Books as quantum devices that interact with consciousness. T
hat way, you can call it science.”

  Ian still wasn’t buying it. “Hold on. There is science behind everything. You—”

  “Tell me, Ian,” Mr. E said. “What, precisely, is laughter? Or what, specifically, is music? Why do they exist? What purpose do they serve?”

  Ian had no answer.

  “Okay,” Max said. “So I’m . . . twelve thousand years old. Is that right? Why don’t I remember anything about my past?” Max asked.

  Mr. E scowled with menace. Max knew this was a dangerous line of questioning. But Mr. E answered tersely. “That is because your memory has been deliberately erased.”

  Max opened his mouth to ask another question, but Mr. E stopped him. “Max! Ask nothing more!” His eyes glowed bright orange—and darted around madly. “Do not add to the price you already must pay!”

  Anger flooded Max. Why should information about his own past be off-limits? He needed these answers!

  “Who erased my memory?”

  The Tower shook violently again. Mr. E tried to contain himself for a moment, but failed. Apparently, his programming took over and a gout of orange fire poured from his eyes, engulfing Sasha.

  Max, Ian, and Casey gasped in terror.

  Sasha!

  But the fire did not consume her. Instead, it solidified into a crimson jewel around her. This newly formed gem made a terrible screeching noise as it instantly hardened.

  Sasha was imprisoned like a bug in red amber.

  She stood inside, motionless, arms raised protectively with a scream frozen on her face. Ian ran to the gem and beat his fists on it, trying to find some way to open it.

  “She is unharmed,” Mr. E said. “Merely . . . suspended.”

  Max whirled on Mr. E. “You call that unharmed? Let her go! You said I would pay the price!”

  “And so you have,” Mr. E replied nonchalantly. “I have given you pain by imprisoning your companion.”

  Max stared in horror at Sasha. This was his fault. Sasha! What have I done?

  “That is not what I meant!” Max howled. “Well. Sasha paid the price for this answer, so let’s at least have it. Who erased my memory?”

  Mr. E sighed. “You did.”

  What?

  Confusion slammed through Max.

  He had done this to himself?

  “But . . . why?”

  Mr. E paced. “You’ve been to my Isle before, Max. Many times, in fact. And each time, we have this exact same conversation. It always goes like this:

  “First, you tell me that you have no memory of your past. Then I inform you that it is you yourself who has imposed this amnesia. I say that the Niburian mentalist technique used to veil your mind—cryptomnesia—is very familiar to me.

  “Then I tell you I can easily undo it. I can restore your memory. You can? Really? You demand that I do so at once!

  “And so . . . I do. I unlock your mind. And all of your memories come flooding back.”

  But then, Mr. E stopped talking.

  “Yes?” Max prodded. “What happens next?”

  “You might not want to pursue this,” Mr. E replied dangerously. The Tower quaked with a low rumble.

  “Max!” Ian said. “Not again. Don’t ask him anything else!”

  At first, Max hesitated. Was it selfish of him to continue? Was he endangering his friends simply for personal knowledge?

  After all, none of this had anything to do with the Pendant.

  Or did it? Some instinct gripped him, told him this was necessary. Yet, he couldn’t be sure if it was his buried memories talking—or his intense desire to know his own past.

  Max walked right up to Mr. E so they were inches apart. “You’re going to tell me the answer. And then you’re going to punish me, and only me. Not my friends. Me. Do we have a deal?”

  Mr. E nodded slowly.

  “Fine,” Max said. “So tell me. After my memories are restored. What happens next?”

  Doom glinted in Mr. E’s fiery gaze as he dropped the next two words like nickel-plated planet chunks:

  “Something terrible.”

  Ice crept in their veins. Even the throbbing diamond lights above seemed poisoned suddenly with menace.

  “What is it? Do I remember something?” Max whispered.

  “Yes. And it terrifies you.”

  “What do I remember?”

  Mr. E shrugged—and his gaze returned to normal. “I don’t know. You never tell me. I only know that each time, you immediately demand that I reimpose the cryptomnesia. I must not remember! you scream. I cannot remember!

  “And so I do as you ask. I cause the amnesia to fall on you once again. You tell me to set you loose into the world. And you are gone for a while. But sooner or later you always return here.”

  Max paced now. “But . . . I don’t understand. What could be so terrible that I don’t allow myself to remember?”

  “Maybe it’s a really bad memory,” Casey suggested. “Something that hurts to remember. Like an accident or something.”

  “No,” Ian said. “That doesn’t explain it. It must have something to do with Nibiru.”

  “But wouldn’t it be better to know what it is?” Casey said. “How can not knowing be a good thing?”

  Max nodded. He turned to Mr. E. “You can still undo it, right? You can make me remember again, right here, right now!”

  Mr. E’s lip curled in anger. The Tower quaked more violently. “You would do well not to ask me that,” growled Mr. E.

  Aha, Max thought. Is this the core of what Mr. E is protecting? Not the Pendant, but my own buried memories?

  It was like the farmhouse, Max realized. Mr. E was somehow formulated specifically to keep the truth from him. Him alone.

  Well. He wasn’t going to allow that.

  “This is my life! These are my memories!” Max shouted. Big winds kicked up around them, throwing the sumptuous rugs into disarray. “I demand that you return them!”

  “Be warned,” Mr. E shouted into the ferocious gusts. “I will be compelled to slay you. You must desist!”

  “I will not,” Max insisted. “You must restore my memories!”

  “Twice you ask,” Mr. E shouted back. Misery stained his gaze. And with that, fire poured from his eyes like gouts of lava. When he turned, Max saw that Ian was now encased in scarlet ice as well.

  “That’s not fair!” Max howled. “You promised that I would pay the price, not any more of my friends!”

  Mr. E had lied to him.

  “I am made as I am made, I cannot be other than I am,” Mr. E replied. “Desist. Ask no more of me!”

  Interesting, Max thought. No denial, no explanation given. Yet, now Max knew something new: Mr. E could lie. Mr. E had lied. I will be compelled to slay you. Maybe that was a lie also. After all, he hadn’t actually killed Ian or Sasha.

  He’s just trying to scare me.

  Suddenly, Max was sure of it. And he was equally sure that Mr. E had vital information about the Pendant—and this was the only way to force him to talk.

  The answers were within his grasp. The whole world hung in the balance. He had to act.

  And so, praying his friends would forgive him, Max made his choice. He shouted again through the howling gusts: “You must restore my memories!”

  “Three times!” Mr. E shouted back in bafflement. “Three times now, you ask! Will you force me to slay you all? Do you not care for your friends? Will you not have pity on me—and yourselves?”

  With another flick of lava, Casey, too, was shrouded in jewel.

  The tower shook so violently now that cracks appeared in the stonework. Shafts of dirt sprayed up from the cracks.

  Tears streaked down Max’s cheek. Had he just made a horrible mistake? Would he and his friends die because he had not listened to Mr. E’s warning?

  But something inside compelled him, insisted this was the right path.

  “Mr. E, Enki,” Max said calmly, as if someone else were speaking through his mouth. “Release my friends. And unlock my
memories. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.”

  At the words I’m telling you, Mr. E immediately smiled. The winds and the shaking ceased. Three blue bolts from his eyes smashed the three prison-jewels to a thousand bits, freeing Casey, Ian, and Sasha. The threesome drew deep breaths as Max helped them to their feet.

  “You okay?” Max asked them. All three nodded.

  Satisfied that his companions were fine, Max spun on Mr. E. “Now. You’re going to—”

  Mr. E held up a hand. Curiously, he smiled now. “I beg your pardon. I was obeying your own orders, Max. You told me that I was not to allow questions leading to the rediscovery of your memories. However . . . you said nothing about a direct order, which you have just now given. This means I can now answer your questions freely.”

  Max allowed himself a quick smile at his companions. “Well, then. Glad that’s over. Let’s get on with it. Unlock my memories.”

  But now, Mr. E sighed. “Again, you ask. And again, I would do so. But this time, I cannot.”

  “Why not?” Casey shouted. “After locking us up in those jewels—”

  “I thought you said you could answer questions freely!” Sasha yelled at the same time.

  “The Pocket. Siren. Jadeth,” Ian interrupted, his intuition skipping ahead.

  Mr. E nodded slowly. “Ian is right. Things are different. Without knowing what this knowledge actually is, I cannot—”

  “But you don’t have the right to make this decision!” Max exploded. “This is my head, my decision! Do it! Let me remember again!”

  Mr. E spoke softly and calmly now. “When Johnny Siren probed your mind with the Singular Eye, what did he discover?”

  “Nothing, but that doesn’t have anything to do with—”

  “Exactly,” Mr. E said.

  “Huh?”

  “He discovered nothing because of your cryptomnesia. Your mind was sealed shut. What if the location of the Pendant were buried in your mind? If your mind were not sealed, then Johnny Siren would have discovered the location of the Pendant there and then. He would have certainly handed it over to Jadeth and the world would be already lost. So you see, there is a certain wisdom to not knowing.”

  Max glared at Mr. E. Savage anger boiled deep in his heart. “Then again, you’re the one who made the Pendant in the first place.”