Ultimate Nyssa Glass

by H. L. Burke

  Flakes of rust fell onto Nyssa’s arms and into her hair as the handwheel began to rotate, squeaking as it went. “I’m sure we can get you out of here. I know Mr. C would’ve loved to have you in his shop. He thought Dalhart’s original designs were near perfect. Always griped about the tinkering Rivera did with the line.” She paused to wipe her brow. “Mr. C would’ve liked you a lot.”

  “Sound like a wise man. Who is he?” Hart asked.

  Nyssa cleared her throat and gave the wheel another push. Something snapped, allowing it to spin freely. “He was my employer and my friend.”

  “The one who … oh I’m sorry.”

  The hatch moved upward, showering her with dust. Nyssa coughed. “Blast it.” She reached up and felt around. Her fingers found the bottom rung of a metal ladder. She gave it a yank, and it rolled down to the platform.

  “Back when things were better, I used to play chess with Professor Dalhart,” Hart said as she climbed.

  “You mentioned that.” The space was tight, more like a tube than a passageway.

  “Yes, well, there was something he said once, about people. He said people were the greatest of treasures in the most fragile of boxes, meaning your bodies, I suppose.”

  Another hatch waited at the top of the ladder. Bracing herself against the wall, Nyssa spun the handwheel then pushed it up. “Good thing it swings out instead of in. It’s tight in here … so you think that’s why he wanted to ‘convert’ all his servants? To improve upon their fragile boxes?”

  “Maybe. My point wasn’t to justify his actions, but he was right about one thing: death can be sudden and cruel, and life is fleeting and precious.”

  “Yeah, death’s rotten.” Nyssa hoisted herself into the next space, a small chamber with a handle-less wooden door on one wall. “I don’t think Professor Dalhart found a better alternative, though.” She dusted her hands on her leggings.

  “No, he definitely did not,” Hart agreed. “I recognize this place. Is there a mirror behind us?”

  Nyssa turned. A full length mirror with an elaborate switch-and-dial-covered frame hung from the wall. A white dust cloth obscured the majority of the glass.

  “The door is electronically controlled. I can access it from that mirror, though. Maybe there will be some memory files too.”

  Nyssa approached the mirror. She tugged off the dust cloth, which fluttered to the ground. Her own reflection gazed back, her hair disheveled and dirt smudged all over her face and neck. She shook her head. “If I get out of this, I’m giving cobwebs a wide berth and dusting three times a day.” She plugged the RAM into its port then arranged the dust cloth into a cushion to sit on.

  The mirror lit up as the inner workings began to buzz.

  “It’s odd, how so many of the mirrors are covered up.” The lights pulsed in time to Hart’s words. “The mirrors are my eyes. How am I supposed to do my job if they blind me?”

  “Maybe the professor didn’t want you to see,” Nyssa whispered. “Maybe he was ashamed.”

  Hart didn’t respond. A moment later, something across the room clicked.

  “That didn’t open it, but something happened.” Nyssa crossed to the door. A panel had slid away, revealing a metal keypad and an engraved plaque. The keypad had the numbers zero through nine, the plaque a lengthy inscription.

  “Number your days, each passing year,

  But let the Father, Son, and Spirit

  Multiply your blessings.

  Forsake the seven sins,

  But keep His commandments.”

  “What nonsense are you spouting?” Hart asked.

  “I’ll show you. Are you ready to disconnect?”

  “Give me a moment.” The mirror hummed. “I want to backup my recent memory files. If I store them here, everything should upload to the main computer when we get the system back online. I’ve had enough memory gaps for a lifetime. From now on, I’m making backups of backups.”

  Pacing back to him, she stroked the mirror’s frame. “Isn’t it odd? Having bits of your consciousness scattered throughout multiple computers? How do you know what is really you?”

  “The majority of my core program is held within the laboratory computer, with a back up chip in the RAM, but I’m constantly in contact with the other units.”

  “So ‘you’ is a couple of computer chips?”

  “I guess. Sort of.”

  “Again, not a very technical response.” She smirked.

  “My programming is a little too human.” Hart chuckled, but Nyssa winced. He might be more right than he realized.

  The mirror beeped. “All right, backup’s done. Show me this gibberish you found.”

  She held Hart in front of the plaque.

  “Odd. When did he install a numeric-code lock? We need a four digit code.”

  “Mr. C used his address,” Nyssa suggested.

  “Too obvious.”

  Nyssa leaned against the wall to think. “Yeah, I always got a list of birthdays, anniversaries, and addresses before I broke into a place, in case I encountered something like this.”

  “Broke in? Someday I need to ask you about your past activities. They sound fascinating.”

  There was no judgment in Hart’s tone, but Nyssa still blushed.

  I’m getting too comfortable with him. I need to remember who I am and keep my mouth shut. Hart’s too honest to respect a thief, reformed or not.

  She concentrated on the inscription. “This seems odd, talking about the Trinity and the Commandments. From what I know of the professor, I wouldn't expect him to be the religious sort.”

  “He wasn't, but his late wife was. He used to talk to me about her during our chess games. She would trick him into reading passages by making up puzzles based on Bible references and leaving them for him on notes. I suppose this could be a dedication to her. Or maybe he installed it while she was still alive?”

  “So the riddle will give us the door code? ‘Number your days each passing year….’ There are 365 days in a year.”

  “Need one more digit,” Hart pointed out. “It mentions seven. 3657?”

  Nyssa pressed the buttons. The system buzzed, and an electric shock bit her fingers.

  “Ouch!” She withdrew her hand and shook it.

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot these numeric locks had that feature. The professor liked to do things like that. Said it incentivised his staff to keep their memories sharp.”

  “The more I learn about this guy, the less I like him.” Nyssa sucked on her fingertips. “Let’s try to keep the wrong guesses down to a minimum, unless you suddenly sprout fingers.”

  “Use something non-conductive to input the code next time.”

  “I can do one better.” Nyssa fished in her bag for her rubber fingered gloves. “So, not 3657. 7365?”

  “Maybe, but there are a lot of words we’re not using. Multiply your blessings … could that be a clue?”

  “It says to let the trinity do it. What if it’s 365 times three?”

  “1095? But then the seven?”

  “It says to forsake the seven.”

  “1088. Try that.”

  Nyssa reached for the pad but paused. “Keep the commandments. Ten commandments.” She punched in 1098. The door slid into the wall, revealing a wooden spiral staircase. “Thank you, Mr. C, for dragging me to Sunday school.”

  “Great work, Nyss. We’re an excellent team.”

  Nyssa decided to let the Nyss slide … this time. “Yeah, good enough, anyway. Looks like we have a climb in front of us. Let’s get going.”

  Chapter Nine

  The stairs twisted out of sight. Nyssa's calves ached, and her head spun at the thought of another long climb. “We were already on the third floor. It should only be one more flight up, right?”

  “Yes. We're almost done. The good news is the way down should be easier. There’s an elevator the professor used to bring heavy materials up to his workshop, or when he just didn't feel like climbing. Unfortunately it can only be contro
lled from the laboratory without his personal access key, which I don't have. At least you won’t have to carry the files down all these stairs.”

  “He couldn’t have left you the key?” Nyssa huffed. Every muscle in her body ached from climbing, running, and being knocked about by robotic menaces.

  “I’m being optimistic that it's even functional. This place isn’t exactly well maintained.”

  “You can say that again …”

  “This place isn’t—”

  “Don’t make me delete your humor programming.”

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

  Nyssa stuck the RAM into her belt again. He even has the sense of humor of a teen boy. How can he not at least suspect that’s what …who he is? Or was? How old would he be now? Do you age if you've been converted to a computer?

  She cleared her throat. “So, you never met Master Ellis?”

  “My only memories of him are from Yancy. He doesn’t seem to have been part of the household during the time I’ve been online, admittedly that was only three or four years, depending on how long I was inactive. Perhaps he simply left the house. Gone to a university or to start a trade. After all, he’d be eighteen or nineteen now.”

  “And he never checked in on the household?”

  “Maybe he knew what happened. Maybe there wasn’t anything worth coming back to. I don’t remember Professor Dalhart mentioning him. They couldn’t have been that close.”

  “Yeah, I hope he got away somehow.”

  That's a better outcome than what I've been imagining, at least.Nyssa took the first step. The boards creaked underfoot, causing her to look down. A chasm opened between the cracks in the steps. Her night vision goggles only revealed the first ten or so feet; beyond that was a well of black. Her head spun, and she grasped at the wall.

  “Steady. You all right?”

  “Fine. Just heights, you know? Not a rational fear, but an instinctive one.” She closed her eyes for a moment before focusing upward. “I’ll get over it.”

  “Heights seem like a reasonable fear to me. You can’t fly, after all. Just keep moving. We’ll be out of here soon. This whole ordeal is almost over and your sunny climes await.”

  Nyssa rounded a bend in the staircase and stopped. The remains of a large robot sprawled across the steps. Its barrel-like torso plugged the narrow staircase like a cork.

  She tried to scramble over, but the robot rocked. Leaping back, she threw her shoulder against the mechanical-servant to steady it. It settled back into place with a clank.

  “We’ll have to disassemble it,” Hart said. “If we move it away piece by piece, we can get through. Won’t take as long as you might think.”

  “But what do you think is inside?” She touched the rusty metal plating. “Will we ever be able to account for all the staff? The maid, the gardener, the other broken robot on the first flight of stairs … and probably most of the security-knights. That would be about twenty-three, wouldn’t it?”

  “Close to it. Hopefully there will be clearer records in the main computer.”

  Nyssa unshouldered her satchel and took out her screwdriver. “I’m supposed to bring Rivera the data, you know. He has legal right to it, as Dalhart’s business partner.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  She found the first screw and turned it. “I don’t want to give him the files, though. Rivera may be a good man who would never do the things Dalhart did with the technology, but what if someone else gets a hold of this? Governments greedy for an army of robot-human hybrids? Mad men who just like to tinker with human subjects? Maybe this sort of knowledge is best forgotten.”

  The screw fell into her hand. She dropped it between the stair steps and listened. After half a minute of not hearing the screw hit the bottom, she gave up and turned back to her work.

  “I suppose you’re right, but what about the potential good we talked about?” Hart asked. “Limbs replaced? Possible lengthening of life? In the right hands, this technology could enhance and save lives.”

  “Is it worth the risk of more people meeting the fate of Yancy and the other staff?” The fate of you.

  “Every advancement has the potential for evil, Nyss. The question is, do you trust Rivera to use it for good?”

  She paused in her work. “I don’t really know anything about Rivera. I only met his employee, Albriet … and his competitor. His competitor I wouldn’t trust with a rock and a stick, let alone world-altering scientific advancements.” She shuddered.

  The last screw dropped after the first. She slid the front plate off the robot and laid it to the side. A handful of dust and a few wire-wrapped ribs greeted her. I’m sorry, whoever you were. I wish I could give you a better resting place than this.

  “Do you want me to look for the memory wheel?” she asked, holding the RAM up to see into the body cavity.

  “No.” The lights on the RAM pulsed. “I’m sure it will only tell us what the other two did, that this was once a person who endured a terrifying and unnecessary end. Besides, we’re almost to the main computer. Once I have access, I should be able to fill in any remaining blanks. Let’s let him be.”

  With added reverence, Nyssa looked for the next set of fasteners.

  “Nyss, you don’t have to answer this, but what did you do before you came here?”

  Nyssa’s neck muscles tightened. “I was apprenticed to a videophone repairman.”

  “I mean before that. Your skill set and your personality don’t match.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She avoided glancing at the RAM, not wanting him to see her face.

  “I mean you seem honest and caring. You’ve done your best to calm me when I’m upset, and you’re giving me a chance to redeem myself. You don’t seem like the sort of person who should have intimate knowledge of lockpicks and security system weaknesses, but you do.”

  “Maybe I just read a lot of detective novels.” She shrugged.

  “If you want me to believe that, I will. However, I’ve told you everything I’ve found out in these computers, even at the risk of scaring you away, and you’ve given me the benefit of the doubt. I’d like you to trust me to do the same for you.”

  Nyssa freed the second plate and placed it on top of the first. She sighed. “My parents died when I was ten, and my dad’s brother took me in. Mom and Dad were good people, honest, but poor. My uncle, on the other hand, was a waste of breath. He made it clear I was expected to work for my keep. First it was pickpocketing and acting as a lookout when he broke into homes and businesses, but as the years crept on, he taught me more and more of his trade. One day, though, he ended up in jail.

  “I slipped through the cracks … not that I was eager to go to the orphanage. Since I needed to eat, I kind of continued with the only thing I knew.” She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. Stupid dust. “Anyway, I got quite good. One of the best in the business, partially because I don’t look like a thief, you know?”

  “So how did you get out of it?”

  “I got caught robbing a small shop on Clockwork Row. I was off my game that night, triggered a silent alarm and the owner, who lived above the shop, caught me. When Mr. C saw it was a kid staring down his revolver barrel, he took me in, helped me negotiate a pardon, then enrolled me at Miss Pratchett’s School for Mechanically Minded Maids. He had a job for me when I graduated. He gave me a second chance, helped me be the sort of person my parents wouldn’t be ashamed of. I really didn’t want to come back to this life. It just sort of … caught up with me.”

  “Okay.”

  The brevity of his reply made her raise her eyebrows. She moved aside the remainder of the mechanical parts and slipped through the narrow space. “Just 'okay'?”

  “You left out some things, but it was enough to confirm my suspicions.”

  “What suspicions were those?” She raised the RAM to stare into the glass.

  “This entire time we’ve been together, you haven’t boasted, even when you have had reason. Yo
u’ve been very practical and understated about your abilities, so when you tell me you were one of the ‘best in the business’ I know you aren’t just polishing your fifth place trophies, you really were one of the best. So how did you manage to get captured by the silent alarm in a small shop? Bested by an old man with a revolver?”

  She flushed. The top of the stairs loomed before her, the wooden door wrenched from its hinges, perhaps by the robot who had toppled down the stairs. Dents and scuffs along the walls and steps suggested it had rolled for some time before getting wedged tight.

  “I didn’t want to do it any more, but my uncle’s accomplices wouldn’t let me stop. They … they said it was that or the street corner, now that I was old enough for that. I didn’t feel old enough.” The lenses to her goggles fogged, and she wrenched them off. She dabbed desperately at her eyes. “Sorry. It’s just …”

  “Yeah, I know, dust. If I were human I’d offer you a handkerchief.”

  She laughed, drew a few deep breaths, and smiled at him. “Sorry. It’s just, I lost Mr. C this morning, and without him, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I threw myself on the mercy of fate when I triggered that alarm. I didn’t know what prison would be like, but I knew I couldn’t keep being a thief.”

  “He made the right choice. You deserved a fresh start, and I know you’ll get another after this. Life might not be fair, but I’ve been watching you, Nyss. You’re smart and resilient, and you’ll get through this. I kind of hope you find a way to take me with you.”

  “I’d like that,” she whispered.

  “Also, as nice as your goggles are, those eyes of yours have them beat.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Shock me, why couldn’t he still be human?

  “We should finish this.” She stepped through the doorway and found herself in a long, narrow workshop filled with tables and metal scraps. Across the room was a metal door large enough to drive a locomotive through.

  “Hold up. There’s probably a ton of security measures still live. This is where the professor constructed and tested prototypes. He guarded that information like the crown jewels. Why don’t you plug me into the nearest mirror? I’ll see what’s still active.”