MudMan (The Golem Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

A cacophony of sounds followed, the glyph-marked nodules blinking on amidst a flurry of
beeps
and
blips
, the sound of a massive computer humming to life. The flower-covered vines lining the green gateway slithered and retreated from the rounded doorway even as a circular porthole in the center of the door rotated and slid open, revealing a black-petaled flower bud the size of a basketball.

“Get back,” Levi barked, watching, captivated as the bud
bloomed
, its petals unfurling to reveal a black glass bauble coated in jellied-mucus. His warning, of course, was entirely unnecessary: Ryder and Chuck had already slunk back five or six feet, positioning themselves behind Levi with pistols drawn and pointed. Good to know where they stood on things.

With a
squee
and a
plouck
, both sounds wet and throaty, the black orb tore itself free and hovered in the air, an erratic series of lights blinking and disappearing within its depths. After a few brief seconds the blinking subsided, replaced by a pale white glow which emanated from the orb’s center, lending it the appearance of a monstrous floating eye.

Levi wasn’t sure what to do here.

In his dealings with humanity he tried to be yielding and patient—feigning the emotion he knew he was supposed to have. After all, you couldn’t very well smash those who cut you off in the grocery line. With the preternatural, however, his normal tactic was blunt and to the point: like a hammer driving home a nail. His natural inclination was to simply smash this floating
thing
, whatever it was, and be done with it. But that didn’t seem wise.
Wait.
Wait and see whether it was a threat. Then he would smash what needed smashing. It seemed prudent to wait, at least for a moment.

The orb spoke. A soft and soothing female voice, calm and professional like the answering machine on an automated phone line, spouting off words Levi couldn’t understand.

“
Lindi glaong poord ragut lingosuum ka ni …
” A pause, the glowing light within shifting once more from white to a pale yellow. “
Tervetuloa ilmoittakaa kieliasetuksen nyt,
”
it said this time. After a beat, its color shifted once more, now maroon. “
Āpakā svāgata hai aba bhāṣā varīyatā kā saṅkēta dēṁ …
” A merry orange, like a fading campfire. “
Grata placet indicare lingua potissimum nunc …
”

“That last one was Latin,” Levi said as the orb once more ceased its frantic gibberish-speak and shifted to a bright indigo. “Pretty sure. But it was talking too fast to catch everything.
Grata
means
welcome
and
lingua
means
language.
”

“That right?” Chuck said. “And I suppose you’re some kinda Latin major? Maybe I should just start callin’ you Professor Mudman?”

Levi held up a big hand,
Hold your tongue
. The orb had shifted to a soft blue, the shade of a clear, crisp winter morning, and the blinking lights were back now, throbbing and pulsing beneath the steady glow.

“Thank you for selecting your language preference: American English, circa early twenty-first century,” it said, perfect and unaccented. “My name is Siphonei, and I will assist you to the best of my ability. Welcome to holding facility C138-47, owned and operated by Atlantis Correction Systems since 2187 GE. This facility is classified as DJ-791. Highest-level security clearance is required to proceed …” It halted its perfunctory greeting, internal lights whirling once more. “An internal database scan has detected major operational malfunctions in critical systems. Temporary security clearance has been authorized for all visiting personnel.”

The spongy metal door split open with a hiss, door panels retracting to reveal some sort of checkpoint or, perhaps, guard station.

The room itself bore the same look as the rest of the temple: ancient stone, old and weathered. This room, however, had also been retrofitted with more green, spongy computer terminals. Here the thick vines snaked throughout the room, while a series of chairs
sprouted
from the floor—living furniture, sculpted of thick greenery and festooned with hundreds of purple-black flowers. In the center of the room, inlaid into the floor, was a massive ring of gold, twenty feet in diameter. Runes and glyphs ran along the outside edge of the golden ring.

It looked, to Levi, like a summoning circle—the kind of thing a mage might use to punch a hole in the fabric of the universe and call something from Outworld. Or, Levi supposed, it could be a containment ring. Whatever it was, the Mudman felt the thrum of arcane power radiating from the circle in waves, the tension and static of a downed power line filling the air. No, he didn’t know what it was, but he wanted nothing to do with it.

“Please proceed to the visitation checkpoint ahead for scanning, approval, and admittance to holding facility C138-47 proper,” the orb said, before floating forward, into the guard chamber.

Levi moved, not to follow, but rather to block the doorway so Chuck and Ryder couldn’t. He knew they needed to venture in deeper—he’d been the one to urge them onto this course—but none of this sat easy in his prodigious gut. None of this added up. A holding facility all the way out in the middle of the Sprawl? Why? An ancient temple, outfitted with an organic technology that made even the most advanced technomancy in the Hub look crude and outdated? Not to mention the golden circle.

He was unsure here. He hated feeling unsure. Once again an irrational impulse to start laying into things with his fists and feet jolted through his system. There was an elegant simplicity in destruction. He scooted back a step on instinct only to find Ryder elbowing her way past Chuck and slipping up behind his outstretched arm.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said, “so how about you hang back and let me take a stab here.”

The Mudman didn’t remove the limb blocking her way. “An idea. Like your idea about outwaiting the wolves? You’re a Rube. The least qualified person here to deal with any of this.”

“That so, asshole? ’Cause I’m thinking I have just as much experience with ancient Sprawl temples as you do. Or am I wrong?” She lifted her chin, staring down her nose at him.

Levi said nothing, because he couldn’t. He knew far more about the arcane than she did, but
technically
she was right.

“Yeah, that’s about what I thought,” she continued. “And I may still be some dumb Rube—everyone seems more than happy to remind me of that—but you, dude, are the least qualified out of anyone here when it comes to talking to
anybody
about
anything
. Literally anyone else would be better for the job. Those fuckin’ Sprawl wolves would be a step up. So back up and give me a shot. I’ll let you know when it’s clobbering time. Cool?”

“Damn, you got owned, homie,” Chuck said, then broke into a muted chuckle, which he tried to stifle with the back of his hand.

Levi growled, an inarticulate bubble rising up from his chest. His urge to crush something intensified as he watched Chuck cackle.
Patience
. “What’s your big plan?”

“To ask questions, Bill Nye.” She turned away from him and regarded the floating orb. “Siphonei, you said you could assist us. I’m assuming that means you can answer some questions, right?”

The orb wavered as though considering the words, then zipped back over, hanging in the air a few feet in front of Levi. “Please wait one moment while I scan my memory bank …” Once more its internal lights flared and blinked. “Analysis: Seventy-two percent of memory cells have sustained damage. To rectify this, I’ve deleted the bulk of nonessential data files in order to maintain facility operations. Twenty-four percent of data requires a
threat determination scan
before accessing. Additionally, thirteen percent of the remaining data has been marked as ‘Classified, Top Secret’ by the warden—only High-Warden Lir-Thildo may access this material. I have clearance to share any other available information. What questions do you have?”

Ryder arched an eyebrow. Much as it made him uncomfortable, Levi knew she made a good point. A game of wits, or even a simple unscripted conversation could be taxing for him, and perhaps the computer could offer some valuable insights. He lowered his arm and edged to the right, making room for the girl. She offered him a thin, tight-lipped smile then shuffled forward with a curt “thanks.”

“You said this place is a holding cell, so what’re you holding?” she asked.

“Holding facility C138-47, code name
The Abyss,
was established in 2187 GE—sixteen years after the Cataclysm—and houses one inmate,
Dibeininax Ayosainondur Daimuyon
, the Eternally Cursed One.”

Ryder reached into her coat pocket and pulled loose the glossy photo Levi had swiped from the professor’s camp, the picture of the ruby-eyed altar.

“Would this freaky-looking son of a bitch be the Eternally Cursed One?”

A flash of red light shot out from the orb, brushing over the out held picture. “That is affirmative.” She shot Levi an
I-told-you-so
glance.

“What can you tell us about this inmate of yours?” she asked after a second.

“That information is classified. Please ask another question.”

“You mentioned something called the Cataclysm?” she prodded, hardly missing a beat.

“That information was deemed unessential to facility operations and has been purged from my system,” the computer replied. “Please ask another question.”

She paused, tapping a finger against her cheek in thought. “Can you tell us anything else about the facility?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Other than the main entrance, is there another way out?”

“Damn, this girl’s on point,” Chuck whispered from behind. Levi held up a hand to shush the man.

“Yes,” the computer answered. “A secondary, emergency exit exists in the inner sanctum located at the top of the complex.”

“What about booby traps? Anything we should watch out for?”

“That information is classified. Please ask another question.”

“What about you? What are you? You just some kinda computer or what?” Ryder continued, unfazed.

“Not in the sense that you understand this word,” the orb replied. “I was once a human administrator. Now, I am a bio processor. My personality was modified by the head facility administrator, and my memory banks and processors are stored in an organic neural network, embedded in the genetically modified biomass known as
tacca chantrieri gigantis,
which spans the facility
.
”

Levi stole a look at the vines and flowers running riot over the walls and the strange chairs. “The plants?” he asked. “They’re a part of you?”

“The plants are me. Each flower is a part of my essence, and all are interconnected through the vines running throughout facility.”

Ryder nudged him in the side with the tip of her elbow. “I’m running the show, remember?”

“That’s monstrous,” Levi continued, voice rising. “You mean to tell me someone stripped you of your personality and identity and turned you into a computer program!” By the end he was yelling, arms and hands quivering in borderline rage.

“Your statement is flawed, but essentially correct,” the computer—no, not a computer, a woman—said.

The brand carved into his chest flared, crying out at the injustice that had happened here. Perhaps this computer was no longer a human, but she had been a human, and someone had stripped her down and stolen away her life. Worse than that even, they hadn’t simply murdered her, they’d forced her into an unending existence of loneliness and service. Stripped her of humanity and made her into a slave.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, hoping he could somehow bring reckoning to the responsible party.

“Atlantis Correction Systems,” she replied.

Ryder placed a pale hand on his shoulder and squeezed—he glanced down, lips pulled back in a scowl. She stared up at him with a sad smile, her usual attitude replaced by concern. That look—vulnerable, open, sweet—pulled Levi back from the edge of his bloodlust, grounded him in the reality of their situation. Something terrible had happened to the woman trapped in the machine, but it was a wrong committed thousands of years ago by a people long-since dead. Better to concern himself with the affairs of the living. Like Ryder.

“Has anyone else come through here?” Ryder asked after a moment, her tough-girl mask back in place. “We’re looking for a guy named Owen Wilkie. He’s a researcher, a professor. His camp’s right out front.”

“Yes, several visitors have accessed the facility in the last three days.” The orb buzzed: a holographic image of a man suddenly floated in the center of the wide golden circle in the next chamber. Tall and thin—emaciated in his gauntness—with a pinched face, sharp features, dark skin, and spastic gray hair running out of control. He wore thin square spectacles, a mountaineer’s jacket, khaki pants, and heavy trail boots perfect for desert trekking. “Mage Owen Wilkie is currently on site, but his location is concealed from me.”

“Why?” Levi asked. “Why is his position concealed, I mean?”

“Mage Owen Wilkie attempted to trigger the prisoner release mechanisms. He has been deemed a threat to operational security and has been slated for expulsion from the facility. Termination protocol F13-5 has been initiated. Mage Wilkie is using a complex conjuration to block himself from my senses.”

“Whoa, just hold up a hot-minute,” Chuck said, pitching in for the first time. “Termination protocol F13-5? So far this has been some real interesting bullshit, but now we’re talking about termination protocols and shit? I ain’t down with that. Sounds like the kinda thing that’d get your ass smoked. So just what we talkin’ about here, C-3PO?”

“My program designation is A-74J, not C-3PO,” she replied evenly—the joke clearly lost on her. “Furthermore, termination protocol F13-5 is restricted material. To access this information, you must proceed with the
threat determination scan.
To advance further into the facility, you must also proceed with the
threat determination scan
. Would you like to proceed at this time?”