Then, finally, a splinter group of the technomancer movement formally pledged their support of the E10. I predicted it was only a matter of time before their opposition crumbled.
Arnon D’Bvaym
KAYLA PUT A finger to her lips and shushed, then pressed against a wall and nearly melted into the shadows that clung to it. 64Bit did his best to mimic her, while Zed and the trunk remained in place, Zed wearing a sour expression. 64Bit wasn’t surprised about their lack of subtlety—the trunk’s bulk couldn’t melt into the shadows even if it tried, and as far as he knew Zed, as a rozie, wouldn’t attract any strange attention in the rozie factory.
Except for the fact that he was riding on a large trunk with an elderly woman’s face carved on the front. That probably was unusual.
The thumping and groaning sounds that had floated down from farther up the stairwell ended with the sound of a door opening and closing. After a few moments of silence, Kayla motioned and began to lead the small group forward. 64Bit’s heart pounded with every step, and he gripped his staff tightly. They froze again as the sound of another opening door rolled past them, followed by footsteps. These, too, faded away quickly.
“We should just go back to the previous level,” Westley whispered. “There might be an alternative way up.”
64Bit doubted that Westley was genuinely concerned whether or not they could make it up the stairs—he seemed more interested in finding survivors to rescue. But 64Bit couldn’t blame Westley. He wanted to find his master, and Kayla wanted blood, so they each had their reasons to encourage Zed to rein in his increasing impatience to be out of the factory.
“Just another half circle and we’ll be at the next level,” Kayla said. She started them upward again, and this time they reached the next landing. It was identical to the several that came before it: on their left-hand side was an unmarked metal door leading somewhere unknown, while the stairs continued up. Kayla moved to open the door.
“Stop,” Zed growled. “That won’t take us to the surface. I tire of these distractions. I think we should keep moving.”
Kayla paused as more footsteps sounded out. Rather than fading away or suddenly stopping, as the previous ones had, these continued to grow louder. It sounded like a large group of rozies were walking down the stairs.
64Bit felt a drop of cold sweat form on his neck. He knew Zed was capable of destroying rozies on his own, the trunk as well, but not fast enough to protect them from a crowd—and not quietly enough to be inconspicuous.
Kayla shrugged. “Think whatever you want. Run into them and you will certainly catch the direct attention of Id.”
Zed’s eyes narrowed icily, the set of his body revealing that he took Kayla’s words as a challenge. “Stay here. I’ll be quick,” he whispered. He hopped off the trunk and began slinking up the stairs.
64Bit stood in the semi-darkness, pressed against a cold stone wall. Anticipation prickled up and down his skin like a thousand tiny spiders with very hairy legs as he watched Zed slowly begin to climb. He imagined Zed finding the rozies, attacking them, and, in the ensuing noise and mayhem, causing dozens more to pour out into the stairwell. “Zed,” 64Bit whispered. “Stop. We need to check this floor. You promised—the master, you promised to help us find him and rescue him, remember? We need him if you want to live again. We need to look around more. You need him.”
Zed paused. He turned and looked at 64Bit, his expression freezing the sweat on 64Bit’s skin. His mismatched eyes seemed flat, dead, as he worked his jaw and began walking back down the stairs toward 64Bit.
The trunk skittered in front of Zed, blocking his path. He began to climb over it, but it twisted its body to push him off, then began tapping its leg rhythmically. Slowly, slowly, Zed’s flat, predatory expression rounded out as life returned to Zed’s eyes; his posture relaxed a little. “Fine. But no more dawdling. If we don’t find anything quickly, we leave.”
64Bit let out the breath he’d been holding, long and low.
“C’mon,” Kayla said. She cracked open the door, peeked through, and then slipped inside, with Westley close behind. 64Bit looked at Zed and saw the rozie climb onto the trunk and sit, eyes closed, in a meditative pose, before grabbing the metal door.
The footsteps from above grew louder and now were accompanied by groaning. 64Bit found himself twitching as he held open the heavy metal door for Zed and the trunk, glancing up and down the stairs as he did so. What if whatever it was heard them? Or saw the door moving? The factory was somehow disturbingly empty and creepily populated at the same time. Would the sounds they made seem suspicious, or normal, to whatever was on the stairs? 64Bit pushed the door shut behind Zed, focusing on breathing slowly.
After a few moments of leaning against the door, 64Bit relaxed, fairly confident that nothing was following them. He looked up and around. Whatever creature had designed this factory had kept it very consistent—walls of stone and metal, mostly of various shades of gray. 64Bit still couldn’t discern where the light was coming from, but it seemed to barely luminate only a small bubble around him, rendering most of the room indistinct and leaving the ceiling cloaked in darkness. His companions were shadows at the edges of his vision; Kayla and Westley appeared to be opening doors and peeking through, while an oddly-shaped shadow that had to be Zed on the trunk sat in the middle of the room.
“This way is as good as any,” Kayla said softly. 64Bit walked over to her, staff held before him in shaky hands, meeting with the rest of their small group at another door. They passed through and found a long corridor with floor-to-ceiling glass panels set in the walls at even intervals. Following Kayla, 64Bit began to walk forward, nervously looking in the first window as he passed through the doorway.
He saw an operating room. The room was centered around a large steel table, with a tray with scalpels, surgical knives, stitching needles, and so forth nearby. There were glass ports and wire meshes for technomancer frames on the wall, along with other body modifications. It was everything a technomancer would need to create a new technomancer.
“Everything necessary to create a new technomancer,” 64Bit said.
“This is strange.” Westley stood close to the glass, just short of pressing against it as his eyes absorbed what was on the other side.
“Maybe Id was considering spawning an apprentice,” Zed grunted.
Westley looked through the window on the other side of the hallway. “There’s so many tables! But it seems redundant, doesn’t it?”
64Bit looked upward. “Not redundant—automated.” 64Bit pointed toward the room’s ceiling, where a variety of mechanical arms were folded up. “I can’t imagine why such a thing would be necessary, but it looks like you could make technomancers simultaneously here, one in each room.”
“Could they be repurposed to make rozies?” Kayla asked.
64Bit shivered, a bone saw catching his eye. “Most likely. Is every room in here an operating room? With enough materials, Id could make dozens, maybe hundreds of technomancers or rozies in a single day.”
“No,” Zed said. “Without Id’s direct attention, many victims would die to complications the automation couldn’t handle. Id wouldn’t operate more rooms than she could monitor at the same time, not unless her human stock was so high that notable losses didn’t matter to her. It looks to me like this floor is designed for a dozen technomancers or more to do their dark work at the same time.”
The thought was staggering to 64Bit. Dozens of dark technomancers, all working together . . . It seemed like a nightmare brought to life. Why would Id create such a factory? Were there other technomancers here that 64Bit didn’t know about? 64Bit’s attention focused on Zed. “How do you know all of this? You’re supposed to just be a . . . a rozie.”
Zed returned 64Bit’s stare, his mismatched eyes unreadable. After a moment, he grunted and, without answering 64Bit’s question, urged the trunk forward. With Westley and Kayla already moving ahead, 64Bit hustled to keep up, his mind revolving around Zed as he did so. This rozie clearly had spent a lot of time around dark technomancers—and previous comments suggested that he was familiar with the Binary. 64Bit wondered how much he could learn from the creature before Zed killed him.
“Whoa,” Westley said, standing at the end of the hall. He stood with his face pressed against a glass panel, Kayla looking in behind him. “Bit, there’s someone in this one.”
64Bit rushed past Zed and the trunk, wondering, hoping, and skidded to a stop next to Westley to stare into the operating room. There, lying on a cold steel table, was a person, wrapped nearly from head to toe in white bandages. Only the figure’s face was uncovered, revealing a man that 64Bit knew well: the master.
Strangely, 64Bit felt anticipation and a little anxiety. He had expected to feel joy or excitement in this moment—he was still grateful to see his master again, and it brought 64Bit some peace to see the slow rise and fall of the sleeping man’s chest—but since he had learned from the Binary’s information that he had been broken, he no longer wanted to find the master simply to be reunited. His motivations had become much more complicated than that.
“How do we open this glass, Zed?” 64Bit asked.
Zed looked around and then shrugged. “If this place was here the last time, I never knew of it. This is your technomancer, I take it? He looks like he’ll disintegrate if we try to pick him up. Id must have been working him for some time—he looks like he’s on the recovery end of the torture cycle.” Zed sounded disappointed. He looked down the hallway, toward the door they had come from. The trunk began rhythmically tapping one of its legs.
64Bit ran his gloved hand over the wall around the glass panel, hoping to find something to wirelessly connect to, but found nothing. He began to walk up and down the hallway, gloved hand trailing along the wall. “Has anyone seen a control panel?”
“We could try looking around other rooms on this floor,” Westley offered. He stood a cautious distance from Zed, and Kayla looked as if she were seriously considering attacking the rozie while his back was turned. “It doesn’t look like there’s any control panel in here, unless it’s hidden in the walls.”
64Bit jogged down the hallway, his gloved hand trailing on the wall as he did so. If Id controlled her factory with wireless mental commands, then there should be a hidden control panel somewhere nearby, maybe one that controlled each glass wall in the hallway. 64Bit cursed the short range of his glove—if such a thing were on the ceiling, 64Bit would have difficulty accessing it on a ceiling of normal height, let alone however far above this one was through inky darkness. For a moment, 64Bit stopped and stared upward, despairing at the idea that the wireless receiver to open the glass door might be up there, before shaking his head and running up and down the hallway again, emitting the command to open nearby doors as he did so. Nothing opened.
“This was a waste of time,” Zed muttered, looking in the room. “He’s hardly even breathing.”
“It’s not—it’s not. It’s not. We need him.” 64Bit dropped to his knees and ran his hands along the floor outside the glass panel separating him and the master, his heart beating fast, his hands shaking. He was so close. “There has to be something . . .” 64Bit slammed his fist into the ground and groaned, looking down the long, wide hallway. “The control could be anywhere!”
The trunk clattered a few times and Zed said, sounding distant, “The Lady suggests that we break down the glass.”
64Bit looked up at the trunk, seriously considered its offer, then forced himself to shake his head. “No. That would almost certainly trigger an alarm. Westley, boost me up. Maybe I can find something above the door.” Westley crouched and laced his hands together, then looked surprised and impressed when 64Bit stepped onto them and kept his balance while leaning against the wall as Westley lifted. 64Bit didn’t care that he was being strange. He ran his gloved hand along the wall above the glass panel, emitting a command to open, then froze when he heard a sliding sound. 64Bit looked down and saw the glass sliding upward. He laughed a little as Westley lowered him to the ground.
“There’s movement in this window,” Kayla said, standing near the door at the far end of the hallway. “Might be a good idea to have everyone in the room. At least we’ll have a little cover from rozie eyes.”
64Bit didn’t pay attention to what his companions were doing—wherever they went didn’t matter to him. He kept his eyes fixed on the master as he approached the operating table, noting that straps held the old man in place. In addition to the bandages that covered his body, 64Bit noted several long stitches on his master’s face and a needle and IV that was attached to his left arm. It seemed that, in addition to being tortured, the master had been treated for the injuries he had sustained in Fort. 64Bit stood next to the master, then stared around the room, looking dazed. “I don’t know what’s being fed into him—I don’t know if this IV is keeping him alive, keeping him asleep, or something else entirely. Could you help me look for any hints?”
Kayla shrugged and began rummaging through the cupboards. Westley joined her, and 64Bit began inspecting the area around the operating table.
As they searched, Zed began twitching strangely as he walked around the room, then pressed himself against a wall, arms splayed out, muttering. “I recognize her in this very structure. Her sense is everywhere. I hate her,” Zed whispered. “Her attention isn’t here, but it isn’t far. I feel its echo . . .”
“Nothing,” Westley reported.
“No documents, no notes . . .” Kayla said, closing the last cupboard door.
“Nothing,” 64Bit said. He stood from examining under the operating table. 64Bit stared at the master, at the old man’s hooked nose and at the slow rise and fall of his chest. 64Bit wouldn’t leave without him, whatever the risk. He gently took the master’s arm and removed the needle in it, then pressed one of the bandages already on the old man’s arm against the small puncture until it stopped bleeding. Then 64Bit took a moment to just watch.
The master shifted and groaned, an uncomfortable expression on his face. 64Bit let out his breath. He felt his hands shaking.
“The guardian is alive!” Westley exclaimed, beaming.
64Bit gently took his master’s hand and watched as the old man’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh . . . back . . . back again. . . ye again, old hag? Not going to . . . get anything out of me . . .”
“It’s me, master. It’s 64Bit. Your apprentice,” 64Bit whispered.
The master stared at 64Bit for a moment, only a shadow of recollection on his face. “I do know ye from somewhere. Ye look familiar. But yer so young! Tell me, lad, where am I?”
64Bit searched the master’s eyes. He felt that his entire body had gone still: no blood flow, no muscle contractions. It was as if the entire world had frozen in place to give the master time to recover, to recognize 64Bit, and to explain everything that he’d done. But even as 64Bit watched, the shadow of recollection on the master’s face began to fade.
“No, no, no, no,” 64Bit muttered.
“Keep the conversation short,” Zed said. He paced into the hallway and back into the operation room, then back again. “We should go soon. I feel her—just make sure the old man is fit to travel. Untie him!”
“A rozie. A long time since I’ve met a talking one,” the master said, sounding slurred. He leaned his head back against the table and sighed. “Who are these people?” he asked, looking sideways at Westley and Kayla as they set about untying his restraints.
64Bit didn’t have any choice but to move slowly with the restraints on his side of the table—the knots that bound the master were very difficult to undo, and his hands kept shaking as he worked them. He looked at his master and felt thoughts and emotions raging within him like an animal trapped in a cage. Perhaps if he acted calm, gave the master a few more moments to recover, pushed the old man’s mind in the right direction . . . “Master, now might not be the best time, but I have some questions I want to ask you—”
“Ye must be with her.” The old man’s words grew a little more slurred as he spoke, and his eyes lazily opened and shut. “I can’t tell ye anything. I don’t keep my memory in my own head anymore—too slow.”
64Bit froze and goosebumps prickled up and down his skin. He’d hoped, blindly hoped, that the auxiliary memory unit had held only copies of memories, memories that would explain why the master had betrayed him. He’d held firmly, quietly to that hope when he’d been forced to blow up Fort and the missing auxiliary memory unit. But if the old man was speaking clearly, honestly, that meant 64Bit may have truly destroyed the memories and his only source of answers. There would be no backup, nothing left to recover.
A cavernous hole opened within 64Bit. He stared forward sightlessly as the old man continued to babble. It had all been for nothing. 64Bit would never know why his mentor had betrayed him. The old man’s reasons were destroyed along with Fort, 64Bit’s home, and 64Bit’s childhood. All was darkness.
“No . . .” 64Bit whispered. He couldn’t let himself believe that, not now. And besides, if the master believed that 64Bit was a dark technomancer partnered with Id—Ye must be with her—there was every chance he was lying. He might still have his memories, the important ones.
That was something, a slim something, and 64Bit grabbed it tightly.
There was a sliding sound behind 64Bit and Zed shouted in surprise. 64Bit turned around to see Zed mightily trying to halt the glass panel as it slid down, but to no avail. The rozie slipped his fingers out from under the glass just before it settled into a depression in the floor, sealing them in. Zed punched the glass once, then glared at 64Bit with an animal expression. “What did you do? Open it, now!”
“I didn’t . . . I didn’t do anything!” 64Bit responded, still stunned. Kayla and Westley rushed to examine the glass panel with Zed, who had begun striking the wall with increasing energy—and panic. 64Bit reached forward, concerned that Zed would break through and raise some alarm, and said, “Stop—”
A leathery hand grabbed 64Bit’s other hand. 64Bit looked down in surprise, then back, and found the master staring at him.
“Take the boy if ye dare. He’s no good to ye, and without him, the prophecy is broken. Ye could wait for another—aye, waiting may be yer best plan. But the end of the prophecy has lost its certainty. I do not believe that yer master will listen to ye; but this world’s end is no longer set. Take warning—the Creator knows His plans and will finish them.” With that, the master’s eyes clouded over and his hand dropped from 64Bit’s wrist. The old man’s eyes closed, and his breathing slowed but did not stop.
“Wait! Say more,” 64Bit cried. He needed to know more. He was so close—he felt that he had almost laid his hand on a precious treasure, but then an impassable chasm opened in front of him. What did the master mean that the world’s ending was no longer set? Something about a prophecy? The master had said that the boy was broken—why would he share that with the monster that had captured him, but never mention it to 64Bit before?
64Bit wanted to scream. He wanted to punch a wall. But there was nothing he could do.
Crunch.
The ethereal light that surrounded 64Bit turned red.
64Bit turned around again and saw the trunk pulling itself back from a slam against the glass, ready to do it again. Bits of broken glass covered its top and the thick glass that separated the operation room from the hallway was spiderwebbed with cracks. Zed bared his teeth and barked, “Ignore the alarm. Again.” The trunk lurched forward and smashed against the glass wall with one of its corners, this time showering the floor with tiny shards. 64Bit watched, completely at a loss for words, as the trunk reared back and smashed a third time, breaking through the glass panel and sliding into the hallway beyond. It shook shattered glass off its lid after skittering to a stop.
“You are going to kill us!” Kayla shouted. She motioned around her at the red light. “There’s going to be an army of rozies on us any moment! You couldn’t wait for Bit to try to open the door again?”
Zed stared at Kayla, his eyes flat, hungry, as the trunk crawled back through the glass wall. “We’re moving quickly now. We’ve been taking far, far too much time. Consider this alarm incentive. Her focus is not yet here—we’ll just need to move quickly.” Zed then stepped to the operation table, scooped up the master in his arms, and dropped the man inside the trunk’s open maw. The trunk slammed its lid shut with the finality of a coffin.
“Stop!” 64Bit shouted. He hadn’t been able to grab the master before Zed dropped him in the trunk. 64Bit’s heart twisted, but he felt a moment of clarity—as betrayed as he felt, 64Bit still loved his master. 64Bit tightened his grip on his staff and grimaced. If he attacked Zed, would the trunk grind the master like a rozie?
Westley jumped on the trunk and tried to force its lid open, but Zed struck him in the chest. Westley flew onto the floor, gasping for air and red in the face, as Zed scoffed, “Fool! She’s—”
Something snapped inside 64Bit. He gritted his teeth and pointed the staff at Zed, imagining Zed as the source for all of his anger, frustration, and fear. He’s no good to ye, and without him the prophecy is broken, rang through 64Bit’s mind as he screamed at Zed and urged the staff to repel the rozie with all the power it had.
Under the full force of the staff, Zed shuddered, a full-body, doglike shake, then backed up as 64Bit approached, every step making Zed wince as though he were walking on nails. “Stop,” Zed growled, holding his arms up to protect his face as if he were standing in a gale-force wind. “You don’t know what—” He growled and then ran toward the far corner of the room at a breakneck pace, slamming into the cabinets there and crushing them, sending shattered glass flying through the air. Zed continued to press himself against the wall, his expression twisted into something utterly demonic.
Kayla produced her gun, hidden somewhere—64Bit guessed she must have found it in the dark hallway as they passed by, after Zed had taken it from her and thrown it. She rushed toward Zed.
As Kayla ran forward, the trunk rammed into the medical table, pushing it in front of Kayla, slamming it against 64Bit. 64Bit was knocked off his feet, the staff thrown from his hands and into the air, bounced on the ground, and rolled toward Zed’s feet. Westley reached for the staff as it rolled by, managing to catch it with one hand, but a foot stepped on his wrist. He looked up and saw Zed—the synthetic skin of his face was cut in several places, revealing glints of metal underneath, and his face was expressionless, but his eyes burned like dry ice. He pressed harder with his foot, squeezing until Westley gasped and let the staff go, then bent over to pick it up.
Gunfire exploded as Kayla stood and aimed at Zed. The rozie grunted as silver divots appeared in its forehead, shoulder, and chest. Then Kayla was struck from behind by the trunk as it leaped for her back, knocking her to the ground and landing on top of her. It settled down, and from the gasps Kayla made, 64Bit could tell she could barely breath.
Zed placed his foot on Kayla’s gun and pressed, cracking it and flattening it into the floor. Then he turned to 64Bit. “My mind, what’s left of it, is my own and no one will take that from me.” Zed squeezed his fist, crushing the middle of the staff. 64Bit froze as Zed’s eyes bore into him with a fevered intensity. “Do you understand? Living again be damned—pull another stunt like this and I will eat your friends in front of you, and then I will eat you. I’ll start with your toes and eat them like olives, then your calves like rare steak, then I will skip to your fingers and bite them off one by one, enjoying the crunch as I hold my mouth to your ear while I chew, and next your ears, your lips, your nose, your tongue, and only then, if you have somehow not died already, will I consider a creative way to end your suffering.” Zed pressed his face into 64Bit’s. “Are we clear?”
64Bit nodded slowly, his face deathly pale. Meanwhile, the sound of a door slamming open, paired with a cascade of footsteps, flowed in from the hallway.
Zed squeezed the staff again, crushing another part of it. “I have given you all too much freedom. I tried to be lax, but you all couldn’t handle working together properly, so I’m taking direct control now. Know this: your master is unconscious, old, injured, fragile—placing him within the Lady and having him carried that way was the easiest, most convenient way to transport him. Your lack of trust—your senseless, unthinking attack—threatened everything I’ve been working toward. Do you understand? Tell me you understand!” Zed crushed a third part of the staff, then snapped the staff into four pieces as he stared at 64Bit.
The groaning outside grew louder.
“I do,” 64Bit whispered.
Zed grunted, then ran forward, past Westley, 64Bit, and Kayla. 64Bit turned and saw a rozie crawling through the hole in the glass wall—somehow 64Bit could tell that it was a fresh one, as Zed had described them. Its movements were wild and exaggerated, almost like an oversized newborn learning to control itself, and there was an energy to its movements that made the previous rozies seem lethargic, worn down. Worse, its eyes, held uncomfortably wide open, burned with a fresh, fiery hunger, like a man at the beginning of starvation who still had the strength to kill and eat a friend.
The rozie didn’t last long. Zed shoved a piece of 64Bit’s staff into its eye, then popped the staff piece farther in with two sharp thrusts of his palm. The rozie spasmed, then collapsed to the ground. Another rozie took its place and began grappling with Zed.
“I can’t do anything . . .” 64Bit whispered, clenching and unclenching his hands. With the staff destroyed, he could only watch as Kayla helped Westley stand, as Zed stabbed another rozie with a second piece of 64Bit’s staff. The synthetic skin on his hand shredded as he slammed the improvised stake deeper and deeper into the rozie’s head until it, too, fell to the floor. Zed kicked a third rozie in the chest, knocking it into two others, before waving everyone forward. “Through the hall door, meatborgs!” he shouted as he lifted up one of the rozies he had knocked over and threw it into the approaching crowd of rozies, knocking many over with a cacophony of growls and groans.
The trunk dashed out of the medical room first, followed by Kayla supporting Westley, and 64Bit. Upon exiting the hole, 64Bit looked to his right and took in the crowd of growling, grasping rozies, many of which were crawling over their fallen comrades and lurching forward on unsteady legs. Zed stood between these rozies and 64Bit, a demon briefly turned defender. 64Bit turned and ran down the hallway to where Kayla was standing beside the door, holding it open and urging him through.
Zed came through last, holding only one piece of the staff, and pulled the door shut after him. Rozies with open, red mouths slammed into the metal door, immediately buckling it outward and shattering the glass window set in it.
“This way!” Kayla shouted, dashing into the darkness of a branching hallway. The rest followed her into the maze of Id’s factory, shortly followed by the shriek of tearing metal as the door was ripped from its hinges.
Copyright © 2023 by David Ludlow
Boo Ludlow 