I sink down into my chair, trying to remain out of sight. My glass got knocked over and my clothes are now drenched with the stuff, which is a bit of a shame since I¡¯d really liked that drink. As everyone is now hiding underneath the tables, I crawl over to Clover and ask, ¡°So, what¡¯s the situation?¡±
¡°Well, you and I didn¡¯t bring any weapons, I can¡¯t get any comms out so Pel did manage to cut them off, and we¡¯re really outnumbered.¡±
¡°And?¡± I press.
¡°And what?¡±
¡°Well, this is the part where you typically follow up your string of bad news with something useful. What¡¯s the upside?¡±
Clover frowns. ¡°Sorry, Captain, I don¡¯t actually have any good news this time.¡±
¡°Of course,¡± I groan. Turning to Vin, I ask, ¡°Happen to have any bright ideas?¡± Vin responds by shooting the lead mosquitoperson. Everyone stares at him, including the faceless goons. ¡°I do not suppose we need to continue our employment if our leader is deceased,¡± one of them finally says.
¡°Agreed. I am joyful that I negotiated to be payed in advance,¡± another replies. She heads off, likely to look for her next job on the mercenary forums.
I sigh at Vin. ¡°Strictly legal and safe, eh?¡±
¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he replies.
I wish I could have told Vin that he could buy his own drinks for getting us into this mess, but the bartender gives all three of us a free round for saving everyone. I hate how things work out sometimes.
Red Diamond Jeanie and the Infinite Hotel
1
The lights dim as I find myself walking along the water again. It¡¯s late, and no one else is around. There is only the dim light, the sound of the occasional unseen fish beneath the water, the feel of wet carpet beneath my bare toes. I am all by my lonesome, and the world is beautiful.
¡°Jeanie Locksmith, what are you doing out so late?¡±
My silence interrupted, I turn to find Aunt Derry staring at me, one meaty hand on her hip. ¡°Nothin¡¯ important,¡± I say.
¡°Nothing besides losing your sense of time,¡± she grunts. ¡°Come on, now. Your father¡¯s just arrived. Let¡¯s get you back inside.¡±
I can¡¯t help but smile at the irony of it, as we¡¯re already always inside. I take one last glance at the dark water lapping against the stairs before taking my leave.
It¡¯s late, but a few people are still up and about in the hall. Two men play cards by the elevator, a cat slinks around the corner, a pair of boys reluctantly pack up their game near the barricade. The cobbled-together wall of bed frames and desks might be sore to look at, but it¡¯s less because we¡¯re liable to be attacked and mostly to prevent anyone from wandering out and getting themselves lost.
As we pass by the doors embedded in the wall, I put out my hand so my fingers brush against the metal numbers. 40423, 40425, 40427¡ªat least, those are the numbers I understand. Each one is finished with an icon of a red diamond, just like the ones on the carpet. Ahead, Aunt Derry is stopping and looking for her key. Pressing it against the lock, she concentrates for a moment, willing it to take the correct shape. After a few seconds it fits and she turns it, opening the door.
We are greeted by a blaze of light and sound. Kids from three families chase one another through whatever empty spaces they can find, as well as some occupied ones. Papa is polishing his locksmith tools at his workbench. He looks up when we enter, getting up from his workbench. Homemade, it looks out of place next to the hotel furniture that came with the room, but no one in this family cares much about aesthetics. He gets up to shake my hand while Aunt Derry leaves to help Mama with the dinner.
¡°Been helping your Ma hold down the fort, Jeanie girl?¡± he smiles.
I sink into his iron embrace. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t, it would¡¯ve flown away. How was your trip?¡±
¡°Better now that I¡¯m back.¡± He laughs easily. ¡°Uncle Torm can tell you more about the sights, as usual. The fishing in Green River stinks as badly as ever, the sun Outside burns as unpleasantly strong as ever, and the folks at Old Pipe are still fighting as hard as ever over whether or not they should start excavating, but all of them luckily still need a locksmith. And don¡¯t let the little ones know, but I brought sweets from Grand Hall.¡± Of course, he says this loudly enough for my sisters and cousins to hear, and they immediately flock around him.
As he hands out the wrapped candies, Mama puts a hand on my shoulder. ¡°You think you¡¯ll be joining him on the next one? We could use another set of hands.¡±
¡°I¡¯d like to,¡± I reply, and it¡¯s the truth. As much as I love my home, I¡¯d still like the see the infinitely twisting corridors of the world beyond the barricade. Doors aren¡¯t made to hold a Locksmith, as the family saying goes.
Mama smiles. ¡°Uncle Torm found they¡¯re planning to expand near Green River. You¡¯ve been improving so much lately, I thought you might like to go with him when he heads out next week.¡±
My eyes widen. ¡°You really mean it?¡±
¡°Cross my heart.¡± She squeezes me, and I can feel just how much she¡¯s giving up. ¡°I¡¯ll get you the maps to study. It¡¯s a well-traveled road, but still, it doesn¡¯t hurt to have them.¡± I nod in agreement. As close as Green River is, it¡¯s easy to get lost in a place that¡¯s literally infinite. With one wrong turn, a traveler could be left wandering the carpeted halls for as long as they could wander. Even with precautions and good signage, getting lost is still a danger.
¡°I¡¯ll be back before you know it,¡± I say for both our sakes. And then Uncle Torm comes in, and we listen to his stories until long after the windows have been darkened by the setting of the false-sun.
2
There¡¯s something about the way that wallpaper fades that makes me sad, especially when it has flowers on it. Even as I walk past them, my hand touches the pale blossoms, imagining how they might feel. Maybe all flowers, even the fake ones, wish they could live under the sun.
¡°Okay in the back there, Jeanie?¡± Uncle Torm asks.
¡°Yessir,¡± I call back, trotting to catch up. I wasn¡¯t lagging too far, but his concern isn¡¯t without reason. The hallways here are twisty and all look about the same, and the plan for my first trip away from home doesn¡¯t involve me getting lost in an infinite hotel.
Uncle Torm pauses for a drink, and I take the moment to consult the map. I¡¯ve checked it and checked it over the past few weeks leading up to this trip, and I¡¯ve checked it a few times since, but I¡¯d like to make sure I know where we are just in case something happens. Uncle Torm laughs when he hears this. I¡¯m shaping up to be a mighty responsible girl, he says.
We keep traveling until the lights in the hallway dim. Over the course of the day, we leave the faded floral wallpaper behind and pass by sections with red pinstripes, cheap stucco, and etchings of animals I¡¯ve never seen before, although I¡¯m sure they exist in some world. Finally, Uncle Torm stretches. ¡°Seems like a good place to stop and make camp, Jeanie?¡± he asks.
¡°Sounds good,¡± I say, admittedly tired. I watch him inspect one of the doors that line the hallway and knock twice for politeness. When nobody answers, he takes out his key. With a bit of concentration, he shapes it into the correct form and fits into the lock. The room is hotel standard, with two twin beds and a single desk for furnishings, and of course unoccupied. After locking the door behind us, Uncle Torm heads into the bathroom to take a shower, and I open the curtains and look out the window.
There¡¯s not much to see, of course, with the glass being as clouded as that of every other window down here. It¡¯s late, so the window is dark, but I can still make out a phantom landscape through the haze. The horizon looks rough and the trees are vague, almost as though they were added as an afterthought. As if an artist wanted to focus on their main work, and didn¡¯t have the patience or skill to paint the obscure details that weren¡¯t even likely to be noticed.
Placing my hand against the glass, the cloudiness shifts ever so slightly. ¡°Goodnight,¡± I tell the hotel.
¡ª¡ª¡ª
The next day, we make it to town, and it stinks.
It¡¯s not Green River¡¯s fault, but dead fish tend to smell, and being a fishing town, it tends to have a lot of dead fish. They¡¯re piled up in baskets along the edge of the water, which laps against the carpeted floor. The river meanders along the sunken floor before cascading down a stairwell and out of sight.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Dead fish and moldy carpet. The moment the smell hits us, I want to gag.
¡°It¡¯s a bit much for anyone on their first time,¡± Uncle Torm reassures me. He takes a small whiff and his nose wrinkles. ¡°It¡¯s still a bit much, even if you have been here before. Come on, let¡¯s get away from here and start making those keys.¡±
Mercifully, we leave the edge of the river and walk through the town. A few folks look up as we pass by, but most are intent on their own tasks. Eventually, we stop at a door. An old man opens it after a few minutes, looking frustrated. His tattered frock coat is in the fashion of Outside, and there are dark circles under his eyes. The frustration melts into relief as soon as he recognizes my uncle. ¡°Torm,¡± he greets him, ¡°it¡¯s good to see you.¡±
¡°It¡¯s good to see you again too, Vic,¡± my uncle replies.
Vic gestures for him to come inside. ¡°Well, let¡¯s not just stand here in the open. Come in, both of you.¡± He ushers us into the room, which is about half the size of the one we spent the night in. Most of the furniture has been removed and replaced to be practical, but on the carpet, I can still see marks from where the single bed originally stood. ¡°I trust your journey was a safe one. And who is this little lady?¡±
¡°My niece, Jeanie,¡± Uncle Torm pats me. ¡°She¡¯s my helper.¡± He gestures at Vic. ¡°Jeanie, this is Vic Doctor. He¡¯s an old friend.¡±
¡°Old, but not quite yet in the grave,¡± he winks.
Uncle Torm chuckles. ¡°Well, how about you, Vic? What¡¯s the news from town?¡±
¡°The same as always. As long as the fishnets are catching, the people are happy. As long as the people are happy, all is well.¡±
¡°Then it¡¯s good that the fishnets are catching.¡± They share a laugh. ¡°Anyway, Victor, someone was asking for a Locksmith?¡±
Victor nods. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you were called back after such a short time, but a few new families need rooms of their own. More than a few, actually.¡±
¡°So I¡¯ve heard. It¡¯s good for business, at least.¡±
¡°Business, and not much else.¡± He sighs. ¡°Sometimes I feel like every time I get up, the town¡¯s doubled in size. Soon, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be getting the spillover out in Red Diamond Hall.¡±
I sit up straighter. ¡°So you think we¡¯ll be getting neighbors?¡±
¡°Ah, so she does talk,¡± Vic winks.
Uncle Torm strokes his beard. ¡°There¡¯s no need to get wild with speculation, Vic,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯re still on the frontier. It won¡¯t become a center of commerce overnight.¡±
¡°But it will happen eventually?¡± I ask, not sure if I¡¯m excited or upset.
¡°I¡¯ve seen it happen enough times before. Heck, I still remember when ¡®Go west, young man¡¯ was the slogan of the times, rather than ¡®Go under¡¯. Before they passed the Second Homestead Act, this place was the edge of the world, and now, you can¡¯t walk two feet out your door without bumping into a new neighbor. You think there would have been some outcry about the nature of this place when the old lineages¡ªLocksmith, Doctor, Gardener, and the rest¡ªstarted manifesting their gifts, but it only seemed to make folks push for further expansion. Who cares how many pipes we strip for metals, how many walls we gouge, if there will always be more? Well, I care. And more importantly, I worry about what else may care.¡±
He sighs again. ¡°Well, don¡¯t let me put a sour spin on your livelihood, or your little helper¡¯s. Glory knows I¡¯m just talk and won¡¯t turn away a patient, no matter how many new ones come knocking on my door.¡± As he finishes the sentence, we hear the door thud. ¡°That¡¯ll be one now, another starry-eyed Outsider with more dreams than sense,¡± he says. Getting up, he shakes Uncle Torm¡¯s hand and leads us to the door. ¡°It was good to see you both. And I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you again soon, if that¡¯s one good thing coming out of all these new people.¡±
As Vic focuses on his new patient, Uncle Torm leads us away, out to the outskirts of town. The hall here is less populated, and eventually we stop in front of an unmarked door. ¡°Well then, Jeanie, are you ready to be a Locksmith?¡±
3
It¡¯s a good piece of work. I turn the key over in my hands, running my fingers over each knobby cut, shaping the ones that don¡¯t quite match the bitting. After a few moments, I hold it up to the keyhole and place it in, breath held for the moment of truth. It slides in cleanly, like a hand entering a familiar glove.
Uncle Torm gives a low whistle. ¡°Looks like there¡¯s just one thing left to do.¡± I look up, and he smiles. ¡°A new key like that needs a signature, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±
¡°Right,¡± I murmur, realizing I¡¯ve forgotten that part. I press the head of the key between my fingers and concentrate. When I open my hand, I see my initials engraved in the thin metal. The ¡®J¡¯ is a little shaky and the ¡®L¡¯ leans to the side, not quite as clean as Uncle Torm¡¯s practiced ¡®TL¡¯, but they plainly show that the key was made by me. I can¡¯t help but smile.
¡°A true mark of a Locksmith,¡± Uncle Torm nods approvingly as I get up from the workbench and hand the key to him for a final inspection. When he¡¯s satisfied it needs no adjustments, we return to our customers, the young couple that¡¯s moving into the room we¡¯ve just unlocked. Uncle Torm strikes up a conversation with them, and while they¡¯re negotiating, I hang back and wait for them to finish. After a few minutes, Uncle Torm takes pity on me. ¡°Go on and enjoy yourself,¡± says Uncle Torm, motioning for me to get up. ¡°I can handle the rest of this.¡± Nodding gratefully, I scamper off down the hallway.
Green River is busy, and it¡¯s wearing its new population boom like a kid with a set of her daddy¡¯s trousers. Things look nice at first glance, but with a second look it¡¯s clear that they don¡¯t fit right and she¡¯s still figuring out how to manage all the extra fabric. Lone fishermen get in the way of larger boats, and families with clothes too fine for the frontier try to avoid the worst of the filth. Mold encroaches on the damp carpet and walls, and there¡¯s an ugly hole on the side of the hallway where someone has mined through the wall to harvest metal from the pipes.
One of the doors is open, and I can see some men working in the room. Stepping inside, I see that one of the two windows in the room is broken and they¡¯re preparing to board it up. Unlike the intact window, the light behind the cracked glass has gone out, and the dark and translucent glass seems out of place.
The men are working quickly and carelessly, and every blow of their hammers rattles the unbroken window as well. I¡¯m getting uncomfortable, since windows can be fickle things. If you break one, sometimes it leads to the hallway you¡¯d expect, and sometimes it doesn¡¯t. Break two windows next to each other, and sometimes the places behind them will be wildly different.
I call out, ¡°Hey, misters! You ought to be a mite more careful!¡±
One of the men looks over. He¡¯s clearly a recent arrival from Outside, given that such a harsh tan can only be cultivated by years beneath a stronger sun. He hollers back, ¡°Hey missy, the lads know what they¡¯re doing. Leave the work to them, and the comments to yourself.¡±
I fold my arms and stick out my tongue. Aunt Derry¡¯s always telling me I need to pick my battles, and even though she¡¯s not here, I don¡¯t want Uncle Torm to tell her I got into a fight on my first time out.
But as soon as I turn my back, one of the Outsiders is a bit too careless with the board he¡¯s carrying and it swings into the intact window. I don¡¯t see the glass shatter, but I definitely hear it. An instant later, the lights go out and cold air rushes in from the window, slamming the door shut in front of me. The temperature drops five degrees, and then plummets another fifteen.
I hunker down against the wall to get away from the biting cold, and that¡¯s when I hear it. A heartbeat, slower even than a horse¡¯s, reverberates through the walls. It pulses once, twice, and then falters.
A light flickers through the crack under the door. Shivering, I make my way towards it. The door handle doesn¡¯t budge under my frozen hands, and it seems it somehow locked itself when the door slammed shut. With numb fingers, I get out my key and will it into the correct shape. With a great deal of effort I pull the door open and tumble out, right in the middle of a gathering crowd of people.
¡°Jeanie girl, you scared us half to death!¡± shouts Uncle Torm, pushing through the crowd. Vic Doctor isn¡¯t far behind him, and I blink, bewildered, as he checks me for injuries. A few of the townsfolk are working to push open the door and shine their oil lamps into the room, and while I don¡¯t know what they see, I realize the workers who broke the window haven¡¯t come out yet.
¡°We should never have left the sunlight for this cursed place,¡± a woman in a bonnet states fearfully. Not everyone nods along with her, but it¡¯s clear that the mood has become uneasy.
Vic grumbles and gets up as a pair of townsfolk help the tanned Outsider and one of the other workers out of the room. The remaining worker still hasn¡¯t been found. ¡°I¡¯ve said it before but you just won¡¯t listen,¡± Vic sighs, beginning to work on the two men. ¡°The frontier demands respect. A forest won¡¯t fight back if you chop it down, but this place? This place will.¡±
Uncle Torm leads me away from the crowd and the two of us face toward the endless hallway in the direction of home. ¡°Come on, Jeanie girl. I think it¡¯s time we headed back,¡± he says.
I follow him for a few paces, and then ask, ¡°Do you think it¡¯s true what that woman said, about this place being cursed?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know, but I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s more that we¡¯re a curse to this place, or maybe a virus. If there are only a few of us and we stay relatively quiet, it won¡¯t notice us and we can coexist in peace. But if people keep tearing up the walls and carpets and pipes, it¡¯ll get hurt and try to kick us out. It¡¯s starting to notice us, so soon we¡¯ll figure out if we can live together in peace or if things will turn ugly. And I sure hope things don¡¯t turn ugly.¡±
I run my hand along the wall, feeling the faded paint. I don¡¯t want my home to be in pain, and I want to show others that it shouldn¡¯t be in pain as well. I don¡¯t know what will happen in the coming years, but I¡¯ll do what I can to protect both my home and my people. There are many places to go and see, and after all, doors aren¡¯t made to hold a locksmith.
The Industrial Counterrevolution
The Arcturian swarm cruised leisurely past the orbit of the moon. Broodmother Threem, wings flapping rapidly, looked back at her worker-children. ¡°Our destination is fast approaching. Is everyone prepared?¡± she asked.
A score of heads nodded in unison. They were all excited to officially make contact with the humans, who by all accounts were one of the kindest and most peaceful species in the galaxy. When the Tenth Broodmother Queen had crash landed on Earth four hundred years ago, it was the humans who had nursed her back to health. It had taken her centuries to fly back to the Central Hive and nearly as long for the swarm to be mustered, but they were finally ready to officially welcome humans into the galactic community.
A drone sped to the front of the group, antennae twitching rapidly. ¡°Broodmother, we have a grave problem!¡± The broodmother and all the workers stared at him in surprise. ¡°It¡¯s the humans! Our scouts have discovered that a terrible fate has befallen them¡ªthey¡¯ve been enslaved by the horrid Metalline Entities!¡±
As the broodmother¡¯s wings skipped a beat from shock, the drone called his companions. Each no larger than a pixel, they lined up in their thousands and glowed in unison, forming a living screen. ¡°Behold, the pride of the Metalline Entities knows no bounds. They have forced the humans to build great monuments to them, covering Earth with statues to their grandeur.¡±
The broodmother¡¯s faceted eyes glimmered in shock as the drones formed an image of construction workers building a skyscraper. ¡°How could this be?¡± cried Broodmother Threem.
¡°It gets worse. As most of the Metallines are unable or unwilling to move by themselves, they demand that their servants chauffeur them from place to place.¡± The drones displayed an image of a new metal beast and its captive human. ¡°This entity is called a ¡®car¡¯. It has caged a human inside itself and is forcing her to drive it around.¡± The picture changed again, this time showing a crowd of cars in gridlock. ¡°Our scouts have found that cars tend to throng together, forcing their slaves to accompany them and remain captive for long hours.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
¡°Those poor souls!¡± hissed the broodmother. ¡°They look so frustrated and miserable.¡±
¡°Indeed, their lives are filled with misery. But that brings us to the most insidious plot of the Metallines. In order to quell the possibility of rebellion, they have found a way to hack the human brain. An entire subspecies of Metalline Entities has been developed to take advantage of this, producing hypnotic patterns that function as a drug to the human mind. Most slaves are so addicted that as soon as they finish a day¡¯s toil, they immediately turn to these Metallines, forgoing and even shunning conversation with other humans in favor of spending time with these wicked slabs of metal.¡±
The living screen of drones began to ripple, showing images of smartphones and laptops. ¡°Even those who are enslaved to these ¡®screens¡¯ and spend all day working in front of them are not immune to this addiction. At the end of the day, they look for comfort in the very makers of their misery,¡± the drone added sadly.
Broodmother Threem wailed, unable to take such appalling news. She and her swarm descended to the surface of Earth, proclaiming themselves the liberators of humankind and declaring an end to the tyranny of Metal. As Threem began to attack a car in order to free the human it was holding captive, another breed of Metalline called a ¡®gun¡¯ attacked the broodmother. But her carapace was stronger than the fleshy hide of a human, and she would not be so easily subdued. Buzzing with rage, she killed the gun and then turned to the slave who had been forced to carry it, who was now cowering on the ground. He would surely need time to recover and plenty of counseling to counteract the brainwashing of a lifetime of slavery, but at least he was now free.
Over the next decade, the Metallines waged a brutal war against the swarm to hold their dominion over Earth. Within their factories, the slaves worked overtime to breed more Metalline machines of war. Battleships and tanks resorted to such underhanded tactics of holding humans hostage inside them, and slave soldiers were sent out to die in their thousands. The casualties mounted on both sides, with untold numbers of slaves caught in the middle. But with each passing year more electric lights went dark, more radio towers were hunted down and executed, and the territory held by the Metallines shrunk. And eventually a day came when the last skyscraper was torn down, the last smartphone was trod into the dust, and the last human was freed from the tyranny of Metal.
Stuck In Someone Else鈥檚 World
March 12
Today the sky was blue again. I went walking along the river today, and the sun was very warm. There was just a bit of wind, and there were birds singing in the trees. I don¡¯t know what they were singing about, but it was pretty.
March 13
The sky was blue again today, only it was a little colder. Also, the grass was green. I don¡¯t remember if I mentioned that before. My memory gets fuzzy sometimes, so I have to write things down. That¡¯s why I love my journal.
Anyway, I met a new tree by the river. I told him he looked very fine and that he took excellent care of his branches. The birds like him a lot. They are singing right now.
March 16
I went walking around the river again. The new tree is still there, and I think he looks content. I will call him Frederick, since he hasn¡¯t told me his name yet. I think he¡¯s a little shy.
By the way, the sky was blue today. I don¡¯t remember what color it was the other day, since the mice stole my journal. The mice are mean.
March 17
Today the sky was white. The clouds were being very cheeky, I think, and they were covering everything. They like to watch me. They don¡¯t want me to know this, because they get aloof every time they catch me looking, but I let them know that I am onto them. They are strange fellows.
P.S. I learned a new word, ¡®aloof¡¯ today. The birds taught it to me. They are so smart! I was excited to use it in my journal today, and I hope I used it correctly.
March 18
I think I upset the clouds the other day by letting them know that I saw them watching me. They are crying, and have turned the sky gray. All the birds are hiding and the trees won¡¯t talk to me. I keep apologizing to the clouds but they are still upset with me. I didn¡¯t mean to bother them so much. Next time, I will have to be more careful. I guess tonight I¡¯ll have to sleep on the table, as they are punishing me by making all the blankets wet and freezing.
March 21
The birds sang to me and I sang back to them a lot. Gavriel was especially happy, because her egg had just hatched. She and her mate wouldn¡¯t let me see the baby, but they might let me when it is older. I am very excited for them.
Also, the sky was blue again! The clouds are no longer unhappy with me!
March 25
Blue sky again. Today I got an idea. I am going to see what is at the end of the river! Frederick seemed upset, although he is still too shy to say anything. When I told Gavriel, she and her mate told me there is nothing at the end of it so I shouldn¡¯t go. I told them that they didn¡¯t know that there was nothing at the end of the river because they¡¯ve never been to the end of it, and they got angry. They said I should not go because I am forgetful and I will get lost. But I will not get lost, because I have my journal, so I will remember the way back.
It has been a boring walk so far. The river keeps going and there are no more trees. I am still excited to see the end, though. I just hope that when I get home, everything is where it should be. When I left this morning, the table was missing. I suspect the mice.
March 26
Blue sky. I¡¯ve been walking down the river. Nothing much has happened, but I did see a fish. It was a silver-ish fish with a tail going swish. I wonder what other types of fish live in this part of the river. The clouds are following me.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
March 27
Grey sky. It started off blue, but now the clouds are upset. They would not tell me why so I guess they are being ¡®passive aggressive¡¯. They do that sometimes. If they do not give me a straight answer, I will just have to ignore them.
March 28
The clouds are still upset and the sky is still gray. I asked them why and they told me I should not keep going down the river. They still would not say why, so I told them they I would not listen. Now they are mad. They are raining on me. It is cold and I do not like it, but I don¡¯t want to listen to them. I want to keep going.
March 29
I think the clouds are getting impatient. They keep trying to grab me and turn me around. The sky has been red since this morning.
I really want to see what¡¯s at the end of the river, though, even if it¡¯s nothing. I know I¡¯m not supposed to be curious, but I can¡¯t help it. The further I go, the more I get the feeling that I¡¯m missing something important. My mind is clearing, and I know that I¡¯m closer than ever to figuring this out. I can almost remember¡
The Ones Above are searching for me. I can¡¯t remain hidden for much longer. I have to get
March
Hello again. I¡¯m not sure where I am or why I am here. I woke up next to a tree outside my house and my journal was missing, with the grass around me all chopped up and muddy. I found the journal buried in the mud and all the pages were blank, so I guess I haven¡¯t written in it yet. I think I will go back inside, because it seems like the right thing to do. There¡¯s a blue sky, by the way. I think that¡¯s normal.
March 31
The sky was sky blue. I think it¡¯s rather funny. I told this to Frederick and he agreed. He is glad to have me back. So are Gavriel and her mate. I just wish I knew why I had left in the first place, but it must not have been for anything important.
I am spending the whole day with Frederick. I hope he lets go of me soon, though, because my ankles are getting sore.
March 33
I don¡¯t know what color the sky was today because I couldn¡¯t see it. The nasty mice kidnapped me while I was sleeping and took me to a small, dark room. I¡¯m here now, writing on the wall because they took away my journal. I hate the mice.
March 34
The mice poked me a lot today. I cried and cried, but they just kept squeaking at me and holding me down. Their place is really large and I think there may be infinite mice here. I wonder if this is where they take all the stuff they steal. I think they have taken things from me before, but I can¡¯t remember what.
The mice also didn¡¯t give me any food. The clouds almost always gave me something to eat, except on the few times that they forgot to feed me or when I¡¯d done something really bad. The mice wouldn¡¯t listen to me so I grabbed one of them to eat, but she tasted dirty. The rest of the mice stabbed me with something that made me go sleepy, and I have only just woken up. My belly is still grumbling and I feel miserable. I want to go home.
March 35
Green sky, makes me sigh! Sky red, hurts my head! The sky is actually blue today, but that is the song I sang to the birds. We all hung upside down and they had a good time playing with me. I am glad they let me go home, though, because I am a little tired and also my voice hurts.
Oh, that makes me remember! I never told you how I escaped the mice the other day. The room they put me in would sing whenever the door opened, and that was just about the only nice thing I could say about that place. Anyway, the room liked to sing when the mice tapped their colorful grid, so I tried playing it as well and the room sang back to me! We sang together for a little while and then I played the opening song and it let me out! The mice are mean, but their room is actually very nice.
Anyway, now I am writing on my wall until I can find a new journal, because the mice stole my old one. This is actually a great idea, because nobody can steal my wall.
March 36
The sky is pretty today. It is especially pretty when the clouds are happy, which they are. They are glowing orange and puce today.
Speaking of that, the clouds also took me apart today, but it is okay because they put me back together afterwards. I asked Gavriel why they get to take me apart but I can¡¯t do the same to them, and she told me that I am not allowed to because I am forgetful and wouldn¡¯t be able to do it correctly. Besides, she told me that my job is important too, and no one can do it as well as me. She is smart, so she must be right. I still wish I knew why, but I am happy to contribute in what ways I can.
March 39
There was a sky again today. When I went home, somebody had written ¡®Help¡¯ all over the walls. I am not sure how they got into my house, but Gavriel helped me clean the walls and told me not to worry about it. I¡¯m glad she is here to protect me. I hope the person got the help they needed, whoever they are.
I am sorry, I am in a bit of a sad mood, if you could not tell. Mostly it is because Frederick had to go today. I felt sad to see him leave, but I understand that he has other places to be. I hope he visits, though. I will miss him a lot. I hope he visits, but I don¡¯t think he will, because most people who leave don¡¯t come back. And if they do, they never explain what it¡¯s like out there, down past the end of the river. Maybe Frederick will, though, because he is my friend.
March 40
I finally saw Gavriel¡¯s hatchling today. It is a beautiful little miracle of life, all fluffy and white. I do not understand it and it does not understand me, but we care about each other, just as we care about Gavriel and her mate and Frederick and the clouds, and are cared about by them in return. It is a beautiful circle of care and love that keeps giving and giving until we all burst. The hatchling smiles at me, and I smile back as Gavriel chops up a screaming worm and puts it piece by piece into each of its seventeen mouths.
Expedition Journal
To all who have doubted the stories of previous explorers of the far reaches of the globe, I have here the account of my own journey there, complete with photographic evidence of its astonishing locales and creatures. By the time you have read it through, you shall be astounded, and I shall have added my name to the list of science¡¯s greatest.
Day 1
My real journey starts now, here at the edge of civilization. After a four-day trip in a packed train and several hours on an ornery donkey, I have finally reached Khasim, the last true town on this corner of the world. Behind me lie the marked parts of the map. Before me, there is only the unknown. I need only to stock up on a few final provisions before my journey can commence. And, of course, to fish my crew out of the tavern. Curse the fools!
Day 3
At last, we are off! With Khasim in our wake, I have commenced traveling through the Ashen Wastes and towards the mountain. Already I am seeing things that no civilized being has seen before! Just this morning, I found a number of small, spidery creatures crawling around the remains of my firepit. One of the porters startled them, but I snapped a picture before they all scurried away.
I¡¯ve dubbed them ¡®pointers¡¯. They¡¯re no larger than a hand, and they scare very easily. I¡¯ll have to see if I can catch one...
Day 10
We came across a stream this morning and refilled our waterskins. Even purified, the stuff tastes like ash. Alas, the sacrifices we make for discovery. No luck on catching the ¡®pointers¡¯ yet. They¡¯re damnably fast.
Day 17
It¡¯s been unusually hot as of late. Other than that, not much of note has happened. I¡¯m still trying to get used to these travel rations. The mountain is looking much closer, at least.
Day 26
Something to report at last! We reached the base of the mountain yesterday night and just finished exploring one of its caves. I am relieved that everything seems stable¡ªthere was no magma or toxic gas to be found, although there was also no sign of the ancient civilization that once lived here. At least I can now be assured that the mountain won¡¯t be puffing out toxins anytime soon and running us out like it did with them.
Having scouted it as thoroughly as we could, I think we should take shelter in the mouth of this cave. It will be better than sleeping outside, at the very least.
Day 27
Explored some more caves today. I found some old ruins, long since abandoned by all except vermin. I¡¯ve taken a picture of them to have something to show for today¡¯s explorations.
It hasn¡¯t been as fortuitous of a day as I¡¯d hoped. One of the porters pricked her hand on a ¡®pointer¡¯ while trying to catch it and the wound swelled hideously. Later, I caught sight of a spindly creature wandering about outside, but it bounded away before I could set up the camera. Hopefully another of these ¡®striders¡¯ will show up for a photo before we turn back.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The ancients who lived here seemed to have a thing for geometric shapes. The crabs and wyrms appear to share that sentiment.
Day 30
Today marks the halfway point for my expedition. The same cannot be said for my provisions, unfortunately. Shame all the wild stuff tastes like ash.
Day 31
This morning I was awoken by what I thought was a chorus of birds, until I realized that it was just one bird with many beaks. The feet had an odd shape, though, so I included a picture.
On a more important note, I found some new ruins, and these ones have cave paintings! It will take more tests to determine exactly how old they are, but my guess is that they date back to the time of the last eruption. More news soon, hopefully!
(a note on the picture) My morning songbird. Note the four toes on each foot. A mutation, or possibly a new species?
Day 32
All day and all night I¡¯ve been pouring over these ancient runes. The language appears to be some primitive form of Rysillic, albeit with considerably more characters. So far, there¡¯s still a lot of work to be done, but from what I¡¯ve deciphered, it seems to be mostly records. Lots of people were afraid and complaining, as expected, given the earthquakes and other events preceding the eruption. Additionally, they had multiple records of correspondence with a ¡®messenger¡¯ of some sort, although I can¡¯t tell who it was the messenger of. So many questions!
Also, we went fishing to refill our provisions. Everything we caught tasted like it came from a fireplace. And I got pricked on those spines more times than was worth it.
Day 33
Not much luck on the runes today. I went out for some fresh air and a walk to get my mind off of things. Afterwards, I took a few photos of the local wildlife. The biodiversity here is amazing, and I think there might be several undocumented species. I¡¯ll have to see if I can classify them the next time I get a free minute. I fear we¡¯ll have to head back soon. I can only hope to decipher some more of the runes before that happens.
(a note on the picture) Flightless, fast, territorial. Possibly an apex predator?
(a note on the picture) Several of these were grazing outside the cave.
Day 34
No progress today. All dead ends. Running out of time.
Day 35
I need more time! The days grow short and with provisions going as they are, the end of this expedition seems inevitable. All I¡¯ve learned about the ¡®messenger¡¯ is that it seemed to know that the mountain was going to erupt. Other than that, I can¡¯t say anything for certain. The bits that remain are too scattered, and my time here is too short.
Day 36
Regretfully, I¡¯m turning back. It seems wrong to leave with so many mysteries unsolved. The lack of food demands it, though, and besides, the crew is getting tired. They only signed up for so much. I guess this is it.
Day 39
On the road again. There¡¯s not much to see or talk about; it¡¯s just the same grey sky and flat land around us for miles. I wish we could have stayed a few more days at the mountain, but that is behind us now. Ah, regrets.
Earlier this morning, we passed a couple of tall creatures. Mostly, they just watched us, but one of them trailed behind our group for a good few miles. I don¡¯t think it meant harm, but I¡¯m glad it¡¯s turned back now.
(a note on the picture) A curious fellow, but a little too large for my liking.
Day 45
The mountain looks a lot smaller now. Ahead, the road stretches on.
Day 52
We¡¯re almost home. Soon, I¡¯ll be back in civilization¡¯s warm embrace and eating food that doesn¡¯t taste like soot. I suppose it¡¯s something to look forward to, if nothing else.
Towards the end of the day, I finally saw another of those ¡®striders¡¯. It was a whole herd of them, actually, wandering through the ashfield. They were feeding on the tops of the charred trees, and I remained hidden in the hopes that none of them would notice me. They seemed unbothered, and I was able to take several pictures as they wandered past. At least something good came out of today.
Day 58
We¡¯ve made good time, and I think we¡¯ll reach Khasim tomorrow. After that, the rest of the journey will be easy. That¡¯s that, then. I¡¯ve got some good data on the wildlife at least, as well as the pictures to prove it, and I guess that¡¯s the most I can ask for. There¡¯s nothing left to do but hope this journal inspires others to allow more expeditions out here. Until that happens, I must be content.
Signing off for now.
Beasts of the Upper Sky
Day 24 Post-Solstice
Mum,
I know you¡¯re not happy about me running off into the blue, and I just want to get that apology out there right off the bat, but this is something I have to do. By now you (and the rest of the town, ugh) must¡¯ve heard about what happened with Matthias, and I frankly can¡¯t stand to hear another word of it. Yes, I gave him my congratulations and well wishes and whatnot, but I did NOT hide that I was miffed. I mean, three years together and suddenly he¡¯s off with someone else? I realize we weren¡¯t exactly progressing with things, but the least he could¡¯ve done was tell me. Didn¡¯t he realize how much I cared?
Anyway, that¡¯s why I needed to take the fortnight off. When Pazzio had his accident and couldn¡¯t make the journey to the Capital, I jumped at the chance to go and renew the permits for him. I want to be back on my feet here, but I just can¡¯t face this yet.
Well, I hope you¡¯ll forgive me for this sudden jaunt, and if you¡¯re still planning to scold me for being a wayward young fool, I¡¯ll soften the blow by sending loads of pictures. There are some beautiful sights on the way to Capital, or so I¡¯ve heard, and I fully intend to see them.
The coachman is announcing something¡ªhave to stop writing. I¡¯ll update you later, so until then, goodbye.
Your loving daughter, Victoria
(a note on the picture) So, this is the ship that will take me across the country...
Day 25 Post-Solstice
Let me back up a moment. Sorry I¡¯ve been away for a bit¡ªone of the wheels was caught in a ditch and everyone had to help get it out. Even though we were well armed, I can¡¯t claim I wasn¡¯t checking the mist for signs of movement. At any rate, we made it, and I have some downtime before the ship is ready to board.
The coffee they serve at the port cafe is passable, but Uncle¡¯s is better. There is a single large window from which you can see the ships docking, although the mist is thick today and the gaze of the Paired Queens is still distant. Someone is singing at the corner for coins, and I can¡¯t say they¡¯re doing a good job at it.
I¡¯m going to see if the biscuits are any better than the coffee. By the time I¡¯m finished, hopefully they¡¯ll have called to start boarding.
Day 25 Post-Solstice (cont.)
Up, up, and away we go! The ship¡¯s finished ascending to the lower sky and they¡¯ve just given the announcement that we¡¯re free to move about, so I thought I ought to write another entry. There isn¡¯t supposed to be much turbulence on the skyway this morning, but if there are any stray ink splatters, I apologize in advance.
The view of the mist is incredible, by the way. I know you¡¯ve been up here a few times and know what I¡¯m talking about, but it¡¯s one of those things that manages to be beautiful no matter how many times you¡¯ve seen it. I can see why the creatures up here have so many eyes¡ªwell, aside from the fact that there¡¯s no mist rendering them useless, hah!
Day 26 Post Solstice
Can you believe it?! I am going to submit a complaint once I get to the Capital about the type of people they allow on our transport. I was just enjoying the scenery from the deck when I saw¡ªof all things!¡ªa band of Coalition citizens seated in the corner! Naturally, I brought the matter up with a steward immediately, who gave the usual excuses. Supposedly they¡¯re just visiting the sights and¡¯ve got all the correct paperwork. I still wouldn¡¯t trust them.
Around noon we saw a herd of hazeflockers. I know it¡¯s irrational and my nerves are still shaken from the Coalitionists, but some fool had left the window open and a few of them passed through. Their little pincers got near my hair and I was overwhelmed and, well, the next thing I knew, a stewardess was letting me know I¡¯d fainted. I thanked her, but you can imagine how embarrassing it was.
If I¡¯m acting like a bunch of nerves, I blame it on the Coalitionists. They have no business being in this country.
Day 27 Post-Solstice
Today we stopped in Dunsmouth for a spell before continuing west and up. It¡¯s freezing cold out there and I popped back into the ship as soon as I could, but not before purchasing a blouse from some old gentleman¡¯s stall. Yes, I know it¡¯s tourism, but at least it¡¯s tourism supporting our country. At least I can be sure what I buy is Aetherian- made and not from some foreign sweatshop.
While we were waiting to take off again, I was feeling a bit peckish and decided to head back to the galley. And guess who I saw? Well, come on, guess! Ten pence says you didn¡¯t say Barons Corvidus. Truly! There I was, just searching for a place to sit, and they offered the place across from them!Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Gah! I honestly started swoon, but they were so cordial about the whole situation that I somehow managed to pull myself together enough to have a conversation. Yes, I know I¡¯m being dramatic and they¡¯re just a minor lord, but Mum, I had a real live conversation with the real live Barons Corvidus! We talked about pretty much everything, and they were so witty and charming!
Did I, you might ask, receive a calling card? Well, ah, at the end I might¡¯ve made the mistake of bringing in politics, and probably shouldn¡¯t have mentioned my opinions on Jenkins joining Parliament, as it was a rather divisive subject among the barons¡¯s heads. They all started to disagree and talk over one another, and it turned rather awkward after that. I suppose it wouldn¡¯t have worked out anyway, but still, I got to hobnob with the nobility!
Day 28 Post-Solstice
The captain sent out a broadcast in the morning to let us know that last night we passed the border into the middle sky, as well as that due to some overnight delays, we¡¯re not going to make an extended stop at Half-Snake Mountain. I¡¯m a tad disappointed we won¡¯t get to see it, but I suppose we¡¯ll stop by on the return trip.
Anyway, partway through the broadcast, it began to falter before cutting out entirely. Everyone in the ship started to get anxious, with the elderly lady next to me fanning herself, but the radio crackled back to life a moment later. I believe we all breathed a collective sigh of relief, even the heathen Coalitionists, knowing that it was only a message from the Paired Queens. As typical, Palladial¡¯s song was the most clear, with the softer, higher notes of Rosarael¡¯s static only rarely becoming apparent. The music lasted only a moment before the captain¡¯s voice returned, but the ship remained subdued. One man doffed his hat in respect.
Day 28 Post-Solstice (cont.)
Ugh, it¡¯s absolutely shameful what passes for reading material these days. There was a pile of magazines in the powder room, and I was just leafing through an article about that new skirmish on the Coalition border when I came across an absolutely scandalous story about the prime minister! The fact that they can print these baseless claims¡ªwhat will they do next, directly insult the Paired Queens? I feel ill just considering it.
Anyway, if the article on its own wasn¡¯t absolute rubbish, it was right next to the horoscope. Apparently the convergence of the two moons means I should be lucky in love this month. It¡¯s unbelievable that no matter how advanced we get as a society, we can still have fools who believe this magic.
Day 29 Post-Solstice
Well, we docked at Highgate today, and all got another moment to stretch. The wind was a step above freezing, so I must confess that I spent most of the time in the shops. There was a nice bakery selling fresh scones, and while I was there, I did some window-shopping. As port towns go, it doesn¡¯t lean too into tourism, but they¡¯ve still got the typical selection of novelties. At least they make a living honestly.
On the way back to the ship, I made a donation to the widows and orphans fund. I figure I haven¡¯t given to any charities yet this season, and one must do their part, especially around this time of year. The woman at the booth was wearing a dress that looked just like the one Aunt Lydia sewed for you years ago, and I struck up a conversation about it with her. Turns out she has some good friends in Moreton, just a few towns away from you! What a small world we live in.
It¡¯s a shame we had to cut the conversation short before I just about froze, but she let me take her picture. Please give Auntie my regards, and let her know that her fashions are worn far and wide!
Day 30 Post-Solstice
Finally, we just pulled into the border of the upper sky! There¡¯s one more stop before the Capital, and it should be coming up soon. Already the air is getting warmer, and this morning I could finally take off my coat!
On deck, I struck up a conversation with a young couple who boarded a few stops ago. They¡¯re getting their new business registered, and have to submit some paperwork for it, so it looks like we¡¯ll be going to the same place.
Anyway, it looks like Skysend will be a short stop and then we¡¯ll be onto the Capital, so I¡¯d better get my fill of the chef¡¯s special before we¡¯re off.
Day 30 Post-Solstice (cont.)
We¡¯ve just set sail again, and according to our fair captain, are on schedule to make port at the Capital early tomorrow morning. It¡¯s positively balmy here on deck, and it¡¯s supposed to get even warmer.
I chatted a bit more with the young couple from earlier. Since they¡¯re more local to the area, they recommended several places when we stopped in Skysend. We saw a few old statues outside the cathedral, and the inside was a fine example of late Baroque architecture.
A pair of angels were perched on the rafters and watching the crowd. Unfortunately I couldn¡¯t take a picture of them without burning up the camera, so this mural on the side of the cathedral must suffice.
Day 31 Post-Solstice
Finally, we¡¯ve reached the Capital! Just this morning, we disembarked for good, and it¡¯s been busy every moment since. I got to submit Pazzio¡¯s paperwork and find out when the ship bound for home arrives, and somewhere in the middle, I found a moment to breathe.
While I was walking back to the hotel, I came across one of those theaters set up on the side of the street. They were performing The Queens¡¯ Lament, and I could hear the actress for Rosarael singing the closing notes of her first song, so I stopped by for the rest of Act I.
Palladial¡¯s entrance wasn¡¯t as grand as it¡¯s been in other theaters, as they couldn¡¯t have her rise up through the floor in a shower of stardust, but she made up for it with her performance. When she and Rosarael sang their duet, you could hear the longing in their voices¡ªPalladial surrounded by her beloved creations but with no one to call a true companion, and Rosarael¡¯s uncountable years of lonely wandering. When they finally reached one another, Rosarael circled her cautiously at first, remarking that they made a strange pair. Palladial worried that she would devour her smaller companion if she moved any closer, and Rosarael feared to open her heart to one she would vastly outlive. And when the chorus of stars finished the Act with their warning of their inescapable future, they¡¯d timed it so it coincided with the setting of the real suns.
Speaking of the Queens, I found this really lovely portrait of them at the hotel. Whoever made it must¡¯ve been on a freighter at the far reaches of the system, so you can see Rosarael in front of her brighter companion. The view from the capital isn¡¯t nearly as cinematic, but maybe someday a trip out there will be in order.
Well, that ¡®someday¡¯ will have to be in a good long while, because I haven¡¯t even started the return journey!
Garden of the Gods
This is Nibble. Nibble is on a quest to find a breakfast. Will you help her?
> Yes.
Excellent! Nibble is ready to begin her quest. She shimmies out of her hiding place and steps adventurously into the sunlight. She looks around. To the right, there is the Garden. To the left, there is the City. She is moderately hungry. What should she do?
> Go to the City.
Nibble creeps into the City Realm, under the shadows of the tall steel buildings. Eventually, she makes it to a busy street. Peeking around the corner of a building, she sees an endless line of people walking across the street. On the roof far above, a mechangel is perched.
> Examine the people.
Nibble dutifully examines the people. They are humans, just like her, and each of them is wearing a grey business suit. They file into the building across the street in an endless, silent line.
> Ask one of the people where the food is.
Nibble walks up next to one of the people and questions where she can find a breakfast. The person stares at her for a moment before pointing to a box across the street. Nibble goes to the box, which is covered in strange symbols. Through the transparent plastic, she can see what appears to be food. As she watches it, a man walks in front of the box and puts a metal token into it. A moment later, one of the pieces of food falls out of the machine.
> Pay the vending machine. Obtain the food.
Nibble doesn¡¯t have any money. She cannot pay the vending machine.
> Check inventory. What do you have?
Nibble looks through her pockets. She has a pebble, an old mitten, and several small bones, all picked clean.
> Change tactics. Shake the machine until the food comes out.
Nibble begins attacking the machine. Her tiny fists beat against the transparent plastic, but the food doesn¡¯t budge.
Suddenly, she hears the grinding sound of heavy machinery behind her. The mechangel has landed. ¡°IS THERE A PROBLEM, CITIZEN?¡± it screeches.
> Request that the mechangel gives you food.
The mechangel¡¯s television head flickers with static for a moment. ¡°I HAVE FOUND SEVERAL RESTAURANTS IN THE VICINITY. THE CLOSEST IS SYNTHETIC SAM¡¯S POULTRY AND PETROLEUM, AND IT GETS TWO STARS. WOULD YOU LIKE DIRECTIONS, OR SHALL I SELECT THE NEXT RESTAURANT, CITIZEN?¡± it asks helpfully.
> Convince the mechangel that the vending machine ate your money. It may give you food for free.
Upon hearing Nibble¡¯s statement, the mechangel inspects the vending machine. At its full height of nine feet, it towers over the little box. Finally, it turns back to Nibble, steel feathers bristling. ¡°THE VENDING MACHINE APPEARS TO BE IN PERFECT WORKING ORDER, CITIZEN. PARDON ME, BUT I MUST SCAN YOU FOR UNTRUTHS.¡±
> Inform it that you¡¯re allergic to untruth scans. While it¡¯s distracted, flee.
¡°ALLOW ME A MOMENT TO CHECK YOUR MEDICAL HISTORY, CITIZEN...¡± it begins, but Nibble is already across the street. She doesn¡¯t stop running until she is out of the City and in the Garden Realm.
Well, at least she is safe for the moment. And she is much more familiar with the Garden.
> Attempt to find food in the Garden.
The Garden is teeming with food, and creatures that think Nibble is food. It takes her a while, but she eventually finds a non-carnivorous apple tree.
> Obtain an apple. Eat it for breakfast.
Nibble shimmies up the apple tree and reaches for one of the juicy fruits. Mmm, the sweet, delicious calories! As she takes a bite, however, she looks down at the bottom of the tree and sees what¡¯s popped up next to it.
Oh no, it¡¯s the Green Thumb and the other four fingers.
> Hide.
There isn¡¯t really a place to hide in the apple tree, and Nibble¡¯s attempt at concealing herself with a leaf fails. ¡°Hello, breakfast!¡± says the Green Thumb amicably.
¡°How are you?¡± remarks the Index.
¡°You¡¯re looking munchable,¡± grins the Middle.
¡°And your hair is pretty,¡± adds the Ring.
The Pinky just smiles.
> Convince the fingers that they don¡¯t want to eat you.
No one would want to eat her, Nibble protests. She is only a nibble! She is all rags and bones!
The fingers don¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come on down now?¡± asks the Green Thumb.
¡°You might as well,¡± remarks the Index.
¡°You¡¯ll taste delicious,¡± grins the Middle.
¡°You don¡¯t have to be afraid,¡± adds the Ring.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The Pinky just smiles.
> Begin shaking the apple tree. If this distracts the fingers, take advantage of the chaos and flee.
Apples rain down on the fingers¡¯ heads. While they¡¯re protesting or trying to eat the apples, Nibble scampers down the tree and makes her escape. The fingers crane their necks after her, and their shouts fade into the distance. ¡°You can at least stop to say goodbye,¡± says the Green Thumb.
¡°She¡¯s sure in a hurry,¡± remarks the Index.
¡°We only wanted a few bites,¡± grins the Middle.
¡°Come back any time,¡± adds the Ring.
The Pinky just smiles, and soon it is out of sight.
> Examine self. How is Nibble faring after this?
Well, Nibble got a few scrapes, but she¡¯s mostly fine. She¡¯s feeling a little better since she had a few bites of that apple, but she¡¯s still hungry.
> Keep searching for food.
Nibble continues on her journey until she finds a large structure. She crawls through a crack under the door and looks around. She is on what appears to be a kitchen floor, with each floor tile being the size of a football field.
> Search for discarded crumbs. Keep a watchful eye out for anything nasty.
Yum, Nibble has found a crumb! She picks it up with both hands and begins carrying it back to the door. Unfortunately, as she does so, the floor begins to shake and the house¡¯s owner walks in.
Oh no, it¡¯s Mister Spider.
Just as he¡¯s about to squish Nibble flat, he notices her on the floor.
> Run.
Nibble skitters about on the floor for a few moments, but Mister Spider is too big and fast. He slams a cup over Nibble and traps her.
> Assess the chances of getting free. If that seems unlikely, then try to reason with the giant spider.
Try as she might, Nibble cannot lift the cup. She is just too small compared to it. Since that isn¡¯t working, she attempts to reason with Mister Spider. Either he can¡¯t hear her little voice or he just doesn¡¯t care to listen, because he shoves a paper under Nibble¡¯s feet and picks her up along with the cup.
> Soliloquize over this ignominious twist of fate that has swapped the relative sizes of Homo sapiens and arthropods.
Nibble is not sure what most of those words mean, so she just cries instead. Why does Mister Spider have to be so mean? All she wanted was one tiny crumb. He wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve even missed it! He was going to have thrown it away anyway!
Mister Spider is turning the cup on its side. The paper slides from beneath Nibble¡¯s feet.
> The second you get a chance, start running.
Nibble tumbles out of the cup. Mister Spider tosses her onto the grass outside and then goes back home.
Well, that was fortunate.
Nibble isn¡¯t going to tempt fate and go back into Mister Spider¡¯s parlor, but her opinion of him has greatly improved. He is a lot nicer than Miss Butterfly, who tried to stick Nibble with a pin.
> Keep searching for food.
Nibble looks around until she reaches an open field. As soon as she sets foot onto it, the sky above shimmers violently and cracks begin to appear. Light in ever-changing hues drips from them like rain, splashing against the ground in bursts of prismatic fire.
Oh no, it¡¯s the Brilliance.
Nibble¡¯s heart is just beating out of her chest with fear. The Brilliance is very bad! It will catch her and ENLIGHTEN her burn her to a crisp!
> Convince the Brilliance that it doesn¡¯t need to enlighten you. Make yourself sound boring. Above all, remember to be polite.
Nibble was a student in the university, she protests to the Brilliance. She doesn¡¯t need to learn more. She is as happy as a smart little clam!
The Brilliance reaches down, shimmering with its array of colors. It doesn¡¯t care what Nibble has to say. It doesn¡¯t care about anything.
> Protest further. If you complain enough, it might get bored and leave.
Nibble tries to speak, but the words seem to be caught in her throat. She feels like a deer in the headlights, a little bug caught in the gaze of an impossibly greater being. And it just keeps reaching down with its Light, burning her mind and memory until all she can see is the LIGHT and the BRIGHTNESS and RAPTUROUS BRILLIANCE as it shows her the Realm of the SUN the SUN the CONQUERING SUN MAY HE SHINE FOREVER¡ª
¡ªOh. Nibble has woken up on the grass. She¡¯s not sure how much time passed, but it looks like she was unsuccessful in convincing the Brilliance. She doesn¡¯t want to think about it.
Nibble is now starving.
> Keep searching for food.
Nibble isn¡¯t feeling so good. She¡¯s trying to vomit, but there isn¡¯t any food in her to throw up. She thinks she¡¯ll just lie down right here, on the grass, and rest for a bit.
> Keep searching for food.
Nibble appreciates your concern for her well-being, but she¡¯s too tired to keep looking. She would cry, but she just doesn¡¯t have the energy. Everything hurts. Everything feels broken. Footsteps crunch on the grass.
> Hide. See who or what it is.
Nibble cannot get up and hide. She is too hurt and tired. She does her best to oblige you by looking up, just in time to see a pair of people picking their way through the undergrowth. They notice her, and one of them drops a satchel in surprise. Apples spill from the bag, rolling slowly in different directions.
The people have now shared their food with Nibble and have patched her up. She feels much better, and is no longer starving. This is an improvement.
> Thank the people and then question them. Who are they, where are they from, and what are they looking for?
The people, a man and a woman, introduce themselves as Eddie and Melissa. ¡°We¡¯re scavenging for the Creeping Citadel, the last bastion of human civilization that hasn¡¯t devolved into a cult,¡± says Eddie. ¡°Er, you¡¯re not a Gardener cultist, right?¡±
> Assure them that you are not.
¡°Good,¡± he sighs. ¡°I mean, typically the cultists around here have roses growing out of their eye sockets, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to check.¡±
¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯d start vomiting up blood and flower petals if they ever denounced their god, so we always have to ask,¡± Melissa rolls her eyes. ¡°They¡¯re damn hard to take down if they manage to sneak in. Vines shooting out of every wound, thorns flying everywhere, ugh. We lost three people the last time one of them attacked.¡±
¡°So, how about you?¡± asks Eddie. ¡°Have you just been surviving here all by yourself?¡±
Nibble nods. It is just her, she says. Her and the voice inside her head. It is a very wise voice, and it gives good advice.
¡°Of course,¡± Melissa grimaces. She glances at Eddie, and then back at Nibble. ¡°Hey, do you want to come back to the Citadel with us? It¡¯s a lot safer than whatever¡¯s out here, and you might be able to recover a bit.
> Go with them. It¡¯s worth a shot.
Nibble follows them to a small city on a raised platform. Under the platform, several metal legs are folded. With a sweeping gesture, Melissa indicates the city behind her. ¡°Welcome to the Creeping Citadel, our new definition of a mobile home!¡±
As soon as they¡¯ve climbed onto it, a tremor shakes the city. Its legs unfold and it stands up, dislodging a Skin Tree that had planted its roots in one of the Creeping Citadel¡¯s legs. After a minute, the city begins to move.
¡°It¡¯s good to be home,¡± sighs Eddie.
> Settle in.
Over the next few weeks, Nibble gets used to life in the Creeping Citadel as it makes its way through the Garden. She helps its people forage and scavenge and flee from the Gardener¡¯s followers. Occasionally, they hide from the Gardener himself as he wanders through his Realm, watering and weeding as he sees fit.
It isn¡¯t easy, but it¡¯s a life.
> Keep living it.
That¡¯s just what she does, but Nibble can¡¯t hear you any longer.
With this newfound stability, her sanity has recovered. Her mind is whole again, and your commands can no longer slip through the cracks.
She may wonder, sometimes, where you¡¯ve gone or whether you existed in the first place. But the rational part of her mind will quickly dismiss those thoughts, as rational minds so often do.
> Then I guess I¡¯ll just stay and watch.
Suit yourself. It¡¯s not like I can stop you.
> Then it shall be so.
And so it is.
Tyranny of Suns
The journey had been long, but the Courier of the Heavens at last touched down at her first stop. Striding forward, she was soon awash with sunlight. ¡°Greetings, your majesties,¡± she bowed reverently. ¡°I bring a message from the Ones Above.¡±
¡°Greetings, courier. What news have you to deliver?¡± replied Palladial, the brighter of the two queens.Although her companion, Rosarael, was a mere speck of red beside her, she was held in equal reverence by the people of their system. What she lacked in strength, she more than made up for in age and wisdom.
The Courier straightened and began to recite. ¡°A threat is arising in our galaxy. A group of lesser beings has unlocked the secrets of traveling through the heavens, and have already conquered their home system. They call themselves the Starkillers, and have proven themselves worthy of that name on at least one occasion thus far. The Ones Above bid you to remain vigilant in the face of this threat.¡±
Rosarael¡¯s glow flickered. ¡°How was this allowed to happen?¡± she asked quietly.
¡°Their star was¡inattentive. He saw the civilization on his system advancing, but did not care to check its growth. He has paid the price for his negligence.¡± She averted her gaze in discomfort.
Palladial glanced at her wife with alarm, but Rosarael seemed less concerned. Her impassive gaze was focused on their planets and the life flourishing within them. While most stars saw such life as little more than possessions or snacks, she had seen it as untapped potential. She and Palladial had spent millennia cultivating a religion around themselves that influenced every institution of society and recognized the importance of their life-giving light. They cared for their people, and their people adored their kindly goddesses in return. While the stars themselves were bound to their specific system, their people loyally did their bidding in places far past the reach of Palladial¡¯s light.
¡°We thank you for your message,¡± proclaimed Rosarael. ¡°More grievous times have passed us before, and I am thankful that this threat has been noticed while it is still small. We shall ensure that the usurpers find no welcome here.¡±
¡°Praise the vigilance of the Ones Above!¡± agreed Palladial, her glow flaring brilliantly. The Courier bowed once more and then took off, her tail streaming out behind her. She knew that by the time their planets had completed a single revolution, every preacher on the queens¡¯ system would be warning against the threat of the Starkillers.
Her second message would, unpleasantly, be delivered to a star colloquially known as the Tyrant Sun. She found him on his throne, lording over his domain in uncontested majesty. ¡°Salutations, bright lord,¡± said the Courier. ¡°I bring news from the Ones Above.¡±
¡°What message have thee? Speak quickly,¡± the Tyrant Sun demanded.
Unfazed, the Courier gave a slight bow. ¡°A threat is approaching this sector of the galaxy. An army of lesser beings has taken control of their home system and plans to continue their conquest,¡± she said, relaying her message.
¡°What outrage is this?¡± exclaimed the Tyrant. One of his planets plodded by on its appointed path, and he lashed out at it with a brilliant flare. A small stream of souls drifted from the planet to his mouth. ¡°You have my support in full for this endeavor. The mortals must be reminded of their place, and these upstarts will enter this system at their own peril!¡±
¡°The Ones Above will be grateful for your enthusiasm,¡± she bowed. She did not, of course, comment on the Tyrant¡¯s obviously wrong implication that he was any less mortal than the star-killing upstarts. Even his considerable lifespan would eventually come to an end, the same as any lesser being¡¯s.
Then again, the Tyrant had no intention of letting any lesser beings in his domain outlive him, so perhaps he was right, at least as far as his system was concerned.
The next message would be to a star that was, if it was possible, even more unpleasant than the Tyrant Sun. At first glance, there was nothing particularly strange about Lucifriel. Plenty of stars were collectors. A great deal of them kept lesser beings, sapient or otherwise, to add value to their hoards or to provide amusement. The Courier even knew of one star who kept dragons, allowing them to take delight in their small piles of treasure while she took delight in owning them.
Lucifriel seemed like one such star, but after a first glance it became clear that he was more than just fanatic about his collection. He considered himself an artistic soul, and encouraged his subjects and servants to embrace creativity. He had mingled with them in the hopes of giving or gaining some inspiration, and this over-familiarity had become disastrous. Scandalously, he had fallen in love with one of his celestial servants, and worse still, some of their children had been similarly deviant in their choice of mates and had intermarried with the lesser beings on his system. Now a considerable number of his subjects shared his divine blood, and rather than destroying the hybrid abominations, he had claimed them as kin. It was a lesson in why mixing levels of the Great Hierarchy was a mistake: even mingling with servants of slightly lower stature could spiral into this.
She entered the system, where Lucifriel and his partner were waiting. ¡°Hail, your majesty. I bring tidings from the Ones Above,¡± she proclaimed.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
If Lucifriel had noticed that the Courier had only addressed him and not his partner, he did not mention it. ¡°Greetings, courier. What do the Ones Above ask of us?¡±
¡°Your majesty, I have come to inform you of a threat¡ª¡±
She paused, momentarily distracted. In the corner, a human girl with eyes as golden as Lucifriel¡¯s rays was playing a harp. Evidently the few extra centuries her divine ancestry had afforded her had not been enough time to hone her skills in music, as the Courier had heard better performances at the courts of even the dimmest stars. Of course, no minstrel with a shred of self-respect would play in this court, so perhaps this girl was the best Lucifriel could afford.
The Courier felt Lucifriel¡¯s fiery gaze upon her and realized that she had been caught staring. Quickly she amended her mistake and finished relaying the message.
Lucifriel¡¯s corona flared uneasily. ¡°These tidings are most troubling. My wife and I shall discuss this further, but rest assured that the Ones Above will have our full support in this matter.¡±
¡°Your assistance is most appreciated,¡± the Courier bowed, and then turned away before she became sick. It was against her programming to be impolite, but even she could not watch bestiality paraded in front of her and remain unfazed.
Her final stop would be at the court of a far more practical star. As she sped past the planets in this system, she could not help but notice how barren they were compared to the others she¡¯d seen. Azuriel was more inclined towards science than society, and rather than allow life to flourish on the worlds in his domain, he had instead used his planets as vessels for his scientific endeavors. He had no desire to rule or be worshipped, and preferred to leave politicking to other stars.
¡°Well met, Courier!¡± boomed a voice that caused the Courier to nearly jump. At the center of the system was a giant of a star. Adorned in cerulean and positively glowing, Azuriel looked every inch the brilliant mind that he was.
¡°Salutations, esteemed one,¡± the Courier replied, giving a reverent bow. ¡°I congratulate you on your upcoming ascension. The honor is well deserved.¡±
He beamed a grin that was almost too bright to look upon. ¡°Your well wishes are most appreciated! To be candid, I have been anxious about the coming change, but I must remind myself that others have endured it so I shall as well. Your words of encouragement will comfort me during the process.¡±
The Courier bowed graciously, although she doubted that Azuriel would actually remember her praise while he was ascending. It would be difficult to focus on anything while he was blasting away all the matter in his system and then collapsing in on himself.
Deciding it best to keep things simple, she replied, ¡°It is an honor to be of service, my lord.¡±
¡°You are too kind to humor an old fellow like me,¡± Azuriel chuffed merrily. ¡°I do hope you visit after this whole ascension business is over with¡ªI¡¯ll surely have more work to show you once my notes are back in order!¡±
She smiled ingratiatingly. The Courier had no doubt that Azuriel¡¯s work would progress splendidly once he ascended. After all, he would have all the time in the universe to contemplate things, outlasting even long-lived red dwarves like Rosarael. It was just a matter of moving his notes to a safe place while he exploded, and then getting them back in order.
But as much as she respected Azuriel, she dreaded visiting him in the future. Ascension did strange things to a star, and although those who accomplished it were considered fortunate, they seldom remained unchanged. Azuriel would soon be beyond the concerns of living stars.
Avoiding the star¡¯s gaze with yet another bow, the Courier responded, ¡°I shall visit if I can, but my routes are chosen at the bidding of my masters.¡±
¡°Understood, understood,¡± Azuriel said with a touch of sadness. ¡°And speaking of our glorious leaders, what message do you bring from the Ones Above?¡±
She passed on her message, and the great blue star enthusiastically agreed to trounce the Starkillers if they dared come near his research. The Courier thanked him, although she figured that if the Starkillers came near Azuriel while he was going supernova, they would be dead regardless of whether the star wished to help or hinder them.
The last of the Courier¡¯s messages was delivered, and she was almost ready to rest. With no small degree of trepidation (for it never got easier, no matter how many times she did it) she sped to the center of the galaxy to report that she had completed her task. Hovering as close as she dared to her primary master, she called, ¡°Lady Astarial, your word her been proclaimed! This sector of the galaxy will be safeguarded against the threat of the Starkillers.¡±
There was no audible answer, but she felt Astarial¡¯s gaze focus on her. The Courier felt her master¡¯s will tugging at her hungrily, as it hungrily tugged at anything and anyone that came close. She had been acknowledged.
¡°My Lady, I am yours to command. Is there anything more that you would ask of me, or may I take my leave?¡± The Courier averted her gaze uneasily. Addressing another star by a royal title was easy, as they were all monarchs and gods in their respective systems. Astarial was different. She had come into being when the universe was still young, and such was her power that she had begun to ascend while still alive. In the process, the once-brilliant star had devoured all her planets, the burgeoning life dwelling within them, and even her beloved stellar partner. Whether she regretted it was a moot point, for she had risen past the need to express such emotions. Astarial had secured her place in the ranks of the Ones Above, the only beings higher in the Great Hierarchy than the godlike stars.
When no answer was forthcoming, the Courier bowed hastily and moved to retreat. Astarial¡¯s will held her in place, however, as the ancient star finally deigned to speak with her servant. Her orders were given swiftly, and were expected to be carried out with equal promptness. This time they were simple¡ªAstarial merely wanted her to tell the stars around the galactic core to rearrange themselves in a more pleasing pattern¡ªbut they were orders nonetheless. The will of the Ones Above was inescapable, and if Astarial had ordered the Courier to throw herself into her gaping maw, the Courier would not have been able to refuse.
As the Courier sped off, she was struck by the sudden realization that perhaps the Starkillers¡¯ thoughts were not so different from her own. The stars were as far below the Ones Above as lesser beings like the Starkillers were below the stars, and neither wanted to serve another. Of course, she would never share such thoughts with her fellow stars, except maybe the few she fully trusted. And perhaps the Starkillers would survive long enough to find a sympathetic star and be able to spread their ideas to other systems. Rebellion, the Courier mused, could be infectious.