by A K Blake
But he was going to be moving much sooner that he’d planned, in the form of an eviction after getting fired, if he didn’t finish giving blood and get to work fast. His boss was on rampage, and the last thing he needed was another late write up.
***
The Department of Blood Dispensary had perhaps once been an impressive building. The marble finish on the outside hinted at former grandeur, but the walls were now black with grime and exhaust. The chiseled lettering proclaiming it a government property was home to several bird nests, and the inside was not in much better shape. It appeared to have suffered a few scrapes over the years.
There was something strange as well, something Luca couldn’t put his finger on that set him on edge. He realized finally that it was the ARGAS machines, spread out around the room in order to service as many vampires as possible. They were silent.
On the far wall of the main room was a flimsy sign printed on several sheets of paper taped together, posted under the more official “Department of Blood Dispensary” placard. It read:
PLEASE DO NOT UNMUTE THE ARGAS MACHINES!
They cannot be reprogrammed to speak only necessary commands until an upgrade bill passes in Assembly. Until that time, our staff requests that you kindly make use of them via the subtitles provided ONLY. We are not permitted to play music, per statute 13982-7, but you are welcome to use your personal devices, should the silence unduly disturb you.
Our thanks,
The DBD Staff
While Luca appreciated not having to listen to the talkative machines introduce themselves—all at once and out of sync—over and over for the next hour, there was still something disturbing about their forced silence. Despite it being crowded, people left several feet of space around the brooding white machines, glancing at them surreptitiously between conversation.
The line to the back room ran nearly out the front door, and it was not until almost an hour and half later that Luca reached the end. Trying not to panic, he hopped into the available chair, rolling up his sleeve to speed up the usual drill.
“Good evening. I am AMA, Automated Medical Assistant. ALERT: 450 millimeters of blood is required to be donated once yearly, per governmental taxation statute 1283.4, by all human citizens. Lucaris Vorbith, records indicate you have not yet fulfilled this requirement. There will be a late fine of 250 cc’s if donated later than tonight. Would you like to donate at this time?”
“I think donate is a bit of a stretch, but sure.”
“Thank you. Lucaris, please place your right forearm, palm up, and remain still.”
The familiar soft-coated pincher latched onto his forearm, and he gritted his teeth as the needle shot out. That part was always his least favorite, though he knew he was lucky. His veins stuck out prominently on his thin arms, making them an easy target. He tapped his foot absentmindedly to a song that had been playing on the rail when he’d been shuttled over, as he watched the clear vial fill with his blood.
As always, the sight of it fascinated him. It was thick and smooth, an arresting color that stood out from its surroundings. It gleamed like liquid gold, which it would be for him, had he been blessed with the right genes. He was not a simplex, but effuses commodus was barely a step up. He couldn’t very well make a living for himself selling something so mundane.
“Thank you, Lucaris Vorbith. Your taxation obligation under statute 1283.4 has been recorded as fulfilled. Is there anything else I can help you with at this time?”
“No, thank you.”
“You are welcome. Have a pleasant night.”
***
Luca’s shift was supposed to start before dinner. At the time he normally got on the rail, just before the standard shift workers got off, there was no one else at the station. Now, however, running behind had put him smack in the middle of rush hour. Humans and vampires jostled in the dank underground platforms, shoving and butting against each other as the magnetic rail cars came to a halt and almost immediately took off again. Luca didn’t manage to get on the first train, because a vampire in a suit elbowed him out of the way, and he had to fight to make it onto the next one. His spore vibrated.
Where you at? You working tonight?
It was Mykal, who worked the two-man grill with him.
Yeah, just running late. On my way.
He flicked his spore closed as the rail hissed to a stop, running onto the platform and up the stairs so fast he nearly tripped over a small child. Yet, he was still nearly forty five minutes late, arriving at the employee entrance around the back of the casino and entering in a way he hoped didn’t look too obviously like sneaking.
Slipping his bag into a cubby, he grabbed an apron as he sidled up to the massive, flat top grill. A wall of heat hit him face-first. Mykal was already in the zone, flipping burgers, scrambling eggs, and frying steaks in a series of motions that he managed to make look elegant, intricate and well-timed like some sort of ritual, rather than menial and low-paying. It probably had something to do with his being a vampire.
“Sorry, Mykal. I can take this half now.”
Mykal turned to him, apparently surprised. Luca was never sure if he feigned obliviousness to put his human comrades at ease or if all the drugs had truly addled his senses. No other vampire would have been unaware of someone walking up. In any event, the effect was endearing, his honey brown eyes going wide, wavy hair flopping to one side as he jerked his head around.
“Oh, hello, Luca. So you are coming in tonight then? I just thought maybe I was working alone.”
There was no accusation in his voice, but Luca felt it anyway.
“I know, sorry. I had to go pay my blood levy. I messaged you back, did you not get it?”
Mykal flicked his wrist to check his spore while flipping a burger with the other hand, not missing a beat.
“Oh, right, I see your message now...I hate going there this time of year. So crowded. Also, it’s awkward walking out with those little packages of blood when the real thing is standing right in front of you, just, like, watching you. I always feel judged. It’s like eating a steak in front of a cow.”
“Yeah…”
“Oh, sorry, was that offensive or something?”
“No, I mean, it’s fine. Not like it isn't true.”
Actually, he would have forgiven Mykal for much worse, something about those melting caramel eyes. He was stocky, a bit shorter than Luca, but he made up for it elsewhere. Muscle bulged from every part of his body, calves thick as beer kegs and shoulders like a pro gladiator. He should have been intimidating, the stereotypical image of a bully. Yet, Luca had never seen him annoyed, much less angry, and instead he couldn’t help thinking of him as a sort of oversized puppy.
It was typical of Mykal’s laid back personality as well that he didn’t show embarrassment about visiting the Effutorium. As far as Luca knew, few vampires actually went there, or at least few admitted to it. Any vampire was entitled to government-provided, free blood. Assembly had passed a law declaring it a vampire right several centuries into the current queen’s reign. However, most still bought their own. Supposedly the government kind tasted overly processed. Also, most of it was simplex. But Luca had always suspected such complaints were just a way of saying it was “for the poor.”
“You want to grab that patty, Luca? Smells like it’s about to burn.”
“Got it, thanks.”
Mykal was from an upper middle-class vampire family, but he had a fondness for gambling that had, ironically, led to him working in a restaurant in one of the biggest casinos in New Gamen. He seemed to have taken it well, though Luca noticed he often came in glassy-eyed, and his relaxed manner was occasionally replaced by an anxiety that could only be temporary withdrawal. It was common enough in kitchens, but it made all the humans workers uneasy. Doped up vampires and hot, sharp objects made for a terrifying combination.
“Heads up.”
Luca turned just in time to see his boss, Drelen, emerge from the other side of the fryer. P
erhaps Mykal wasn’t so oblivious after all.
“Ah, Luca. Luca, the Late. You see this?” Drelen leered over him with a video of an admittedly guilty looking Lucaris sneaking in the door, a triumphant red timestamp at the bottom of the screen. “I think it makes for your second writeup this month, doesn’t it?”
“I believe that’s correct, yes.”
“One more, and you’re done. I don’t have time for teenage shit like this. You understand?”
It wasn’t common for vampires to work hourly jobs, and once Drelen realized Mykal didn’t need help with what was normally a two person grill, he’d been itching to get rid of the dead weight. Luca couldn’t say much, since he was certainly giving him the ammunition he needed.
“I got it.”
“Also you’re staying late today. Someone needs to boil out the fryer.”
That was a good extra hour of work. Luca had to stop himself from sighing out loud.
“Yep, I can do that.”
Giving Mykal an appreciative nod, like a wary pet owner admiring his exotic creature, Drelen stalked away.
***
The rest of Luca’s shift passed uneventfully, in a haze of flipping, chopping, and the occasional small talk with Mykal. Luca’s feet hurt as he walked back to the rail platform, his eyes heavy as the bright afternoon sun began to pierce mercilessly through the morning mist. The underground was a welcome relief, despite the stains on the concrete and the smell of garbage. There weren’t many passengers on the rail at this hour, so he boarded in blissful silence, nodding off as he made his way home.
Chapter 5
The news woke Luca again, scrolling automatically across his spore as he groaned himself awake. He had fallen asleep watching Lively Nights, the episode where Uprana, the vampire daughter, accidentally starves her brother’s pet rabbit. Hilarity ensues as they foolishly attempt to bring it back to life. The human butler finally sets them straight, with a heartwarming life lesson about there really only being one life, so we must look after it carefully. Then, her brother gets a new pet.
The show had been running for over seventy five years and was incredibly popular. It had replaced the human servant characters four times already due to the deaths of the spritely older actors. Luca hated it, but there had been nothing else to watch.
“In New Gamen, preparations continue for the upcoming quincentennial jubilee of Queen Basilla. In addition to the court-sanctioned event in the capital, New Gamen will be hosting its own festivities, starting with the countdown at city hall. The New Gamen Colosseum will also feature heavily, with a special round of themed matches. This comes to us despite rumours of disorganization and falling funds since its current owner took over. When contacted for comment, the owner, Aquesh Nodatu, said, quote, ‘The colosseum is looking great. We have never been better, and the quincentennial games will reflect that,’ end quote.”
As usual, New Gamen looked to outdo Callidus at every opportunity. Without really thinking, Luca reached for his safe. He hadn't yet thought of tonight’s word, but it had become a habit, and he supposed one word was as good as another at this point. Tapping his ear to mute his speaker implant, he said aloud, “Jubilee.” Hitting the implant again for sound, he pulled up the word list on his spore and typed in his latest attempt.
Nothing happened. It took Luca several seconds to realize this was different from the usual reaction. Normally the sphere rejected the word immediately and closed itself back up. Now it seemed to be processing, a whirring noise continuing for several seconds. Panic struck him as he worried that after all these years it had glitched. What if it was broken?
“Record found.”
Suddenly his worn bed, the second hand table, and the poorly painted walls lit up as if by a fire from within. Thousands of brilliant, glowing symbols filled the room. It was like his apartment had been filled with a hurricane of light, a million solar flares at once. In the center of the storm was the sphere, a miniature sun so bright Luca was forced to shield his eyes. It was magnificent, magical, everything he had dreamed of. It was like unlocking a sea of stars. And it was blinding him.
“Dimmer!”
Responding to the common command, the symbols and their source grew paler, though one symbol in particular flashed brighter momentarily, a curved line bowed over a jagged one.
Luca blinked several times, trying to clear the spots from his eyes. The symbols slid across the plain things in his room, bathing everything with a golden wash that made it appear ephemeral and ancient. They gyrated slowly, like a sea of runes. Luca reached out to catch one in his hand, but all he felt was air. He had expected warmth, a pause at his motions, some kind of reaction. He had wanted it to recognize him. But he could not feel them, and the turning stopped for no one. He felt suddenly silly.
“Idiot,” he mumbled.
A marking across the room glimmered for a moment, then went dim as its light was transferred to another nearby.
“Weird.”
Again, a flash of light, one symbol out of hundreds. Thousands? He had no idea. For several moments he did nothing at all, simply reveling in what he had accomplished. He had done it. He had unlocked the mystery at the center of his existence, and it was beautiful. He waved his hands about slowly, enjoying the flow of mystic light across his palms. Everything in him thrummed with an inexplicable sense of joy. But what was it?
Gingerly retrieving his spore from where he had let it fall next to his lap, Luca used his finger to draw the most recent of the symbols that had lit up. It looked like two circles side by side, one much smaller than the other. Using an image search function, he waited several moments, as a loading screen appeared. It must be a highly uncommon emblem; he rarely had to wait for search results. After what felt like ten minutes, the FreeNet offered up its measly findings: a landscape photograph of two ponds, a drawing of two balloons floating away together, and a logo for a corporation that specialized in employee efficiency matrixes. Was it possible these were map pieces?
Testing his theory, Luca tried another one, a single line looped over itself twice, with two straight lines running perpendicular through the loops. This time he was treated to several photographs of glasses and an error message. Luca groaned in frustration, and the markings went wild, strings of symbols lighting up and then dimming, whole patches of them flickering on and then off again. Luca quieted immediately, sucking in his breath. As inexplicably as they had begun to glitch, they stopped.
Working off of a new theory, Luca said aloud, “Hello.”
An image of a vertical line with what looked like indiscriminate scribbles on either side flared temporarily. He waited for it to recede.
“My...name...is...”
Luca paused between each word, giving the sphere time to highlight different symbols or, in one case, a set of symbols, for each sound. It responded, displaying a certain marking or set of markings for each word.
Falling heavily onto his mattress, Luca processed what he had learned. It was a language, he was now quite certain about that. But what did it mean? Why had it been so difficult to open? It could have been a prototype for language training that Tarquinnius had been testing. But if so, then why hadn’t the image search returned anything?
“Jubilee” was an unusual passcode, as well. It seemed strange that Tarquinnius would want it to be dormant and only opened in time for the Queen’s quincentennial, but perhaps it was an unrelated coincidence, or perhaps the information contained in the sphere was somehow relevant to the festivities. Or, another possibility, perhaps it was related to his master’s incarceration after all, and he had meant to hide it until it would not be thought to link it to him. In the latter scenario, especially, what was contained in this tiny metal ball was potentially very powerful, if only Luca could learn to properly harness it. He would need to be careful who he told about this. He suspected he would need help, and it would be a treacherous time determining who was safe to ask.
His spore vibrated. It was Drelen.
You
’d better not be late tonight. We’ve got a bunch of prep to do for the jubilee. If you aren’t going to be on time, don’t bother coming in. Consider yourself fired.
Luca sat up, looking at the time on his spore. He’d somehow wasted over half an hour, and he had only left himself forty-five minutes to get ready and get to work. There was no way he would make it without being late. Clenching the fist of his free hand, he pounded it against his thigh in frustration. Now he would have to find another job, and perhaps the worst part was that he would likely not see Mykal again. He’d gotten used to his company. He liked the way Mykal laughed easily at his jokes, as if they were very funny, and he liked the comfortable way he took up space, the bulk of him...but there was nothing to be done about it now. Luca did not even consider asking him out outside of work. This was partly because Mykal was a vampire and born of a higher class, but mostly it was because Luca was shy.
As he moved the sphere to put it back in the safe, his movements harried and uncoordinated, he heard a bright, ringing noise, like a coin spinning against the floor. Looking down, he saw that something had fallen out from a hollow in the device, a section that had not previously been accessible. It was small and metal, one end flattened, the edges worked into a design resembling an open flower. The other side was tubular, with ridges along the outside and a glimmering chip capping off the end. A key, the sphere had given him a key, to Dieda only knew what.
Rubbing his eyes with his hands, Luca heaved a deep sigh. He wanted nothing more than to explore the mystery before him, the wonderland that he had finally awoken. What he really needed, though, was to find a job. Backing out of the search function on his spore, he stopped as the screen reverted back to the news. It was paused on an image of Aquesh Nodatu’s irritated face. Surely the colosseum would be needing help for all the new games they were putting on for the jubilee. It was as good of an idea as any.
