The Circus Infinitus - Genesis Infinitus

by Ethan Somerville

  Then the imps arrived and stole their bodies. Gurpreet didn’t read much after that, mainly concerned with their origins.

  “Interesting,” the Gent mused out loud as he explored the outraged Fiend’s mind, “I wonder who those two were?” He planted his seed of loyalty, so the Fiend could never willingly – or unwillingly – betray him, and withdrew.

  “Son of a bitch!” shouted the Fiend, spitting to get the foul taste of the Gent’s tentacles out of his mouth. “Was that really necessary?”

  “I did explain.” The Gent turned to the others and treated their minds as well. By the time he was finished, all three where white faced and furious.

  “I bet none of the other club members have to go through that!” growled the Underfiend.

  “I won’t let them into my library unless I can trust them. So far only Sherlock Holmes has refused. He won’t let anyone into his head.” The Gent snorted. “I can’t imagine what secrets he needs to hide from me. I know all about his cocaine addiction and his affair with Watson.” He snapped his fingers, and the elementals withdrew their arms, disappearing back into the chairs. “It is getting late. You three will want to wash and retire.”

  “Wash?” queried the Fiend. “What for?”

  The Gent wrinkled his nose. “I think that drunk you took over soiled himself when you claimed him. Of course you wouldn’t notice, being an imp!”

  The Fiend sniffed. He couldn’t smell anything. “Very well,” he growled. He was still annoyed at the mental raping, but the strange incident earlier that afternoon was still bothering him. “But I need to ask you something first.”

  The Gent poured himself some more water and selected one of the last sandwiches left. “What?”

  “You’re supposed to be so knowledgeable-“

  “Not ‘supposed to be’. I am.” He bit into his sandwich.

  “Well, what do you know about the Anti-God?”

  The Gent chewed his sandwich and swallowed. “Just as Christ has his anti-Christ, so God has his Anti-God. A being as old and powerful as the Lord, equal and opposite. Another secret the Stigmata don’t want the masses to know. They have managed to keep it extremely well. Virtually no-one on Earth knows about the Anti-God.”

  “So how do you know about him?”

  “Through my Stigmata contacts, of course. They employ a wizard, Christophe Sauvage, who is as hungry for knowledge as I am.” He smirked. “He is also a member of this club …. with full library privileges, I might add. It was he who told me about the Anti-God, also known as Necronis. He is better known on the Magick Earth, where he is worshipped by dark elves known as Necronites. Their religion is known as the Cult of the Unmaker.”

  “Who worships him here? Any humans?”

  “There may be some – a tiny handful who would jealously guard their allegiance. But the bulk of the dark god’s followers are Eridons.”

  “Who?”

  “This universe’s equivalent of elves. Only here they come from another planet. They visit occasionally to meddle in Earth’s history. There is documented evidence that they were here about seven thousand years ago, and more recently, around the year zero. Why do you ask?”

  “I saw a Necronite today. He had the mark between his eyebrows.”

  At this the Gent’s dark eyes widened. “A black mark, like a bird in flight?”

  “It was that shape, but red, not black.”

  “A red mark…” the Gent mused. “He must be resisting the darkness. Was he human?”

  “He looked human, but was very tall with long hair. And fair skin without any blemishes.”

  “That sounds more like an Eridon.” Suddenly, the Gent snapped his fingers. “It was he who passed through the portal in front of you! He must have been exiled by his own kind for his religious affiliation! The Cult of the Unmaker is illegal on their world.”

  “The one who was chased off by the strange man with the backpack!”

  “Yes. I know what your first mission for me shall be.”

  “What?” asked the Underfiend with a sinking feeling.

  “To find the Necronite. The Anti-God grants them phenomenal powers of mind. I must learn more.”

  The Underfiend and his companions all shook their heads in fear. “But – but…” the Fiend tailed off, not knowing how to explain.

  “I saw your reason for fleeing, Fiend. You fear the demon-god Abraxas. Some Immaterial lords are allied with Necronis, but not Abraxas. He seeks power in his own right. I doubt a Necronite will be bothered with your little transgression. The petty squabbles of little demon godlings are beneath them. Besides, I only want you to track him down. I don’t want you to fight him. Heaven forbid – he will life-drain all three of your ugly human bodies before you can even blink!”

  “You said something about protection – how are you going to protect us from the mental powers of a Necronite?”

  “No need to worry – Eridons are extremely susceptible to high-pitched noises. I have a sonic amplifier I can loan you. Only use it if he attacks you directly. I can also grant you some more Magickal protection of a higher order if you are truly that frightened.” He snorted. “You may start looking tomorrow.”

  Chapter 5

  Nicholas Gordon

  Relying on his eidetic memory, Del found his way back to Icarus’s secret hideout at around dusk. He had considered trying to coerce his way into a cleaner, higher-class establishment, but even thinking about trying to influence another human being sent a bright pain stabbing behind his eyes. Better to return to the refuge he knew. As he approached the low doorway in the dark, evil-smelling alley, a large derelict who had been settling down for the evening started to his feet. Despite the fading light Del could see that the man was missing his nose and part of his cheek – some horrible disease had rotted that part of his face away.

  “What you doin’ down here, me foine sir?” he slurred, but Del was too tired to figure out his words. Besides, he didn’t feel like explaining himself. He lifted a hand to touch the door, and it creaked open of its own accord.

  “Iss never done that before!” exclaimed the homeless man.

  Shaken by the sight, Del slipped inside, and the door closed behind him. The electric light snapped on for him, allowing Del to follow the long, narrow passage to its end, where another door opened for him. He negotiated the steep stairs into the cellar, then followed the warren of tunnels until he came to the metal studded door to Icarus’ laboratory. It opened as well, revealing the damp, smoky chamber. Del stepped in, looking around for the strange cyborg scientist, but he was nowhere to be seen. But he did see that parts of the lab had been cleaned, and a narrow bunk installed in one of the far corners, behind the work bench. Icarus had also managed to appropriate a large metal bath which he’d set up in front of the furnace. A truly dangerous lash-up of pipes had been arranged around it to supply hot water.

  “My, you have been busy,” Del remarked, “but where are you?”

  As he stepped further into the room he became aware of a high-pitched hum at the very edge of his hearing. He cringed at the vibration. It sounded like something charging, and seemed to be coming from the other end of the lab, opposite the new bed. He approached, realising the place was bigger than he’d first thought. As he stepped around the huge, round tank with the little round windows in the sides, he noticed a narrow passage continuing on past it, with several doorways leading off it. An eerie flickering light emanated from the first opening. The strange noise increased in volume and pitch, building towards some sort of crescendo. Cautiously Del approached. He noticed a lot of the pipes and cables that lined the ceiling seemed to lead into this room. What was in there? Could he brave that awful whine and find out? He gritted his teeth and looked around the doorway.

  The chamber wasn’t particularly large and occupied by a single strange-looking chair. In this char sat Icarus, naked without his coat, his head resting on his chest. He appeared to have been locked in, manacles holding his wrists and ankles. An electric
cable ran from a socket in his head, another trailing from one of his metal legs. Then the whine reached its zenith and electricity discharged into Icarus with an almighty crackle. The sound sent Del staggering backwards in shock. Icarus jerked in his bonds, his body arching into a bow, his steel head smacking into the back of the chair. The electric bulb above his head dimmed, but there was sufficient glow coming from the lightning snaking across his body to illuminate the area.

  Someone must have found him and shut him into that thing, Del realised as he picked himself up. Got to shut it off! He glanced wildly around the room, spotting a huge, old-fashioned double-pronged switch bolted to the wall on Icarus’s right. His tattered old coat was hanging beside it. Straining to avoid touching Icarus and getting shocked himself, Del slipped into the room, pressing himself against the cold bricks, and reached for the switch. He managed to grab it and slam it down, cutting off the discharge. Icarus slumped forward, smoke issuing from the joints of his metal body. Strangely enough, his pale human flesh didn’t even appear singed.

  “Icarus?” Del whispered.

  Icarus’s head jerked up, and then the manacles around his wrists and ankles split open of their own accord. He reached up to his head, pulling the cable from his skull. Then he removed the one from his leg. Realising that someone was in the doorway, he slowly focused on Del. His eyes widened. Then he leapt to his feet, grabbing his coat. “Don’t look at me!” he shouted.

  Del couldn’t believe his eyes. “You … you weren’t a prisoner? You could have escaped at any time?”

  Icarus flung his coat around his shoulders, pulling it closed, hiding his largely mechanical body. “I put myself in there!”

  “Wh…why would you do that?”

  Icarus pushed past him and stalked back out into the main body of the laboratory, clearly embarrassed about … what? Del couldn’t figure it out. Being seen naked? He was entirely mechanical from the chest down, and not anatomically endowed. Perhaps that was his issue. Or was he upset about being caught in the electric chair?

  Massaging his forehead, Del followed him out. The little room descended into darkness behind him, as though the light sensed his presence departing. He didn’t want to think any more, and that narrow bunk was looking increasingly inviting. He removed his hat and dropped it on the work-bench, unshouldered his cloak and sat down. Icarus scuttled over to the furnace and started furiously shoveling coal into it. He appeared to be muttering under his breath.

  Del sighed and lay down. His stomach gave a mournful moan. One small potato hadn’t even dented his hunger. But he forced himself to ignore it. He would seek out more food tomorrow.

  “You can have a bath if you want,” growled Icarus. A tap turned with a squeal, the sound of running water following. Del sat up to see Icarus standing by the bath. “I rerouted some pipes today. There’s a water-closet in the room next to the electric chair that I unplugged. The bed’s new too. I stole it from upstairs. The innkeeper won’t miss it. He’s resigned himself to things disappearing.” Icarus gave a rasping laugh.

  Del got up, realizing just how much work Icarus must have put in, arranging these new additions for him. Steam rose from the big bath as it filled. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get in. Quickly he stripped out of his new clothes and scrambled over the side. The wonderful warmth immediately flooded his exhausted body, re-energising him and helping to ease his hunger. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and sank down beneath the surface. His long hair felt like silk against his skin. He stayed there for almost a minute before resurfacing. “Ahh!” he shook his hair back over his shoulders. “That’s better! Thank you!”

  He focused on Icarus, who was standing beside his abandoned clothes as though frozen, his odd gaze fixed on him. He looked like a strong breeze could knock him over.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Um … I … I…” Icarus suddenly scooped up Del’s clothes. “I’ll hang these up for you so they won’t get wet. You’ll need a towel too. I think I have one somewhere.” He hurried off so quickly he dropped Del’s boots and socks.

  You really are a strange fellow, Del thought, and dropped beneath the surface again.

  After his bath, Del went straight to sleep in his new bed, exhausted by his day. However, being Eridon, he only needed a few hours at a time. He woke in the early hours of the morning, finding the laboratory colder than before, the lights turned low. The only substantial illumination was coming from the furnace. Slowly he sat up and stretched, ready for another day of exploring his new surroundings. He also wanted more information from Icarus, and hoped the weird little scientist would be a little more forthcoming.

  Icarus was seated cross-legged on the floor, facing the furnace. He didn’t move as Del stirred, reaching for clothes that had been folded neatly and placed on the work bench where he could reach them. Icarus is so nice to me – and yet at the same time so rude, Del thought. Why is that? He slipped on his boots – the appeared to have been polished – and crept up behind Icarus. He knew he had been silent, but Icarus still sensed his presence and turned.

  “I’m far too paranoid to allow people to sneak up on me,” he growled.

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I don’t sleep. I was meditating. The next best thing.” He got to his feet, his metal joints squeaking. “I need some oil. I must have gotten some water into them while fixing the pipes.” He headed for his bench. “How … how was the bed?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

  “Very comfortable.” Del combed his fingers through his still damp hair. “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I have a million questions.”

  Icarus found an oil-can behind a box of screws. “I hate answering questions.”

  “I gathered. But I need to find out more about this world. You … you seem to be unique. When I was out yesterday, I saw none of this technology.”

  “There are gaslights and steam engines and hot running water – just not everywhere.”

  He never mentioned electricity, Del thought darkly. “And there certainly aren’t any cyborgs like you,” he added.

  Icarus sighed. “You’re right. I’m one of a kind.” He tried to oil the creaking joints and swore on realising the can was practically empty.

  He really didn’t want to talk, but Del had to know more. “How did you come into being? It’s obvious to me that these humans do not have the medical skills to create fully functioning cybernetic prosthesis.”

  “Like I said yesterday, I’m a mechanologist. If a machine can be conceived, I can create it. I’m also a mechanomancer – I communicate with the spirits within the machines, to make them work.”

  “Mechanomancy? I’ve never heard of that!”

  “It is a very rare branch of Magick. As far as I know, no-one else has mastered it. And I’d like to keep it that way, thank you.”

  Magick seemed to be what humans called psionics. At the academy, Del had learned that humans were psionically inert creatures, unable to master even the most basic psionic techniques. But Icarus’ abilities seemed to destroy that theory. He truly was powerful. “Very well. You need to coal to fuel your mechanical body, but what about the electricity?”

  Icarus put down the oil can. “It … it heals my flesh. But I discovered it too late. I’d lost too much of my body to regenerate my lost limbs and organs. Now it will only renew what I have left.”

  “Energy channeling! You humans can do that?”

  “You keep lumping me in with the rest of humankind. I am not human, Del! I was once, a long time ago, but not anymore. I am … undead.”

  Del started and jumped back. “No!”

  Icarus glared at him. “Ah, I see you know that word!”

  “Undead are evil! – cursed!”

  “No!” shouted Icarus. “I am in full control of my spirit! When I felt to darkness coming I rallied against it! I retained my entire self! No god or demon controls my destiny. I walk alone.”

  Del slapped his hand over the mark on hi
s forehead. “Necronites become undead when the take the vow! Eventually I will need energy to survive – the pure energy of life…” He felt sick and had to sit down, his head spinning. Icarus leaned forward, his half-metal face inches from Del’s. “See that big tank in the corner? With the windows in the sides? It is the Immortality Machine. It is what I used to become … what I am.”

  Suddenly Del leapt up, grabbing his hat and cloak. “I’m sorry – I have to get out of here.” He turned, heading for the exit. Icarus made a grab for his cloak.

  “No – don’t leave! Not after what I just told you!”

  “I … I need air. And food.” He wrenched the cloth free. I can’t return here, he thought as he fled through the exit. Not now I know Icarus is … unholy! His presence will only accelerate the dark god’s hold on me!

  “Del!” shouted Icarus. “Please!”

  Del clenched his teeth and ran through the labyrinth. He hurried up the stairs, clattered down the corridor and burst through the wooden door into the alley. The bum who had chosen that doorway as his bed woke with a start as he was kicked off his stoop. Del swept down the alley into the cold predawn.

  Swearing at the top-hatted demon who had just disturbed him from his rest, the derelict gathered his scattered belongs together and crawled back into the doorway. For a passage that no-one used normally, it seemed to be getting a lot of traffic! He was just settling down when the door swung in again and another person knocked him off his perch. This man ran down the alley shouting “Del!” in a rasping voice.

  “Jesus Christ, iss like fucking Fleet Street down ‘ere tonight!” the derro shouted. “Can’t even get a decent kip anymore!”

  At least Del had a pocket full of coins this time. But if he wanted to find somewhere new to stay, he would need more. Good rooms were probably expensive. Although money was required on his own world, the very poor were still amply provided for. Here, there didn’t seem to be much support for the poor at all. That drunk with the suppurating face had nowhere to sleep for the night.