by Annie Percik
‘You sure you’ll be okay?’ Mateo asked.
Abelard made a vague shoo-ing motion. ‘Go home. Don’t worry about me.’
He was fast asleep in five minutes.
* * *
Brain-e-fact Ten-Forty-Seven had been working at Gadg-E-Tech as long as he could remember. The animate artefact was six feet tall and humanoid in shape but fashioned out of thick cream-coloured ceramic that clicked as he moved. There were fifty brain-e-facts at the Gadg-E-Tech head office building and they all looked exactly the same, apart from the identification number inscribed on their chest-plates. Their cylindrical heads had a jointed jaw and mobile glass eyes to give them an approximation of human expression, but human emotion was a mystery to them.
The Facilities Manager at Gadg-E-Tech had activated Ten-Forty-Seven almost ten years ago and he had been fulfilling his duties to the best of his ability ever since. He spent half an hour each night recharging his mana unit but otherwise there was always work to do. His favourite duty was feeding the fish in the enormous tanks behind the reception desks down in the lobby. Sometimes he would take a few minutes to watch them swimming around and wonder what it was like to be a fish. Brain-e-facts did not have much of an imagination so his musings never went very far. But the colours and motion of the fish tank were soothing and it was a pleasant interlude in his otherwise relentless work schedule.
If someone were to ask Ten-Forty-Seven if he enjoyed his job, the question would confuse him. He had never known anything else, so did not have anything to compare it to. It would never occur to him that there was anything about his life that was unfair. He had a job to do and anything outside of that was beyond his conception. He worked alongside his fellow brain-e-facts companionably enough, but there was little for them to talk about beyond the necessities of task allocation and completion. They never left the building so had no knowledge of the outside world and they did not interact with the artisans, other than to receive instructions or report on the work they had completed.
Most days Ten-Forty-Seven worked in the canteen, so he saw more of Gadg-E-Tech life than the brain-e-facts doing data entry in the HR department, for instance. He laid out food on the buffet counters and served hot drinks to the artisans when they asked him. Sometimes they requested complicated combinations of components and Ten-Forty-Seven had to be careful to follow their instructions exactly. He had noticed that artisans grew angry if their coffee was not precisely how they wanted it. Generally they only acknowledged the brain-e-facts or spoke more than a couple of words to them if the brain-e-facts got something wrong. That didn’t happen often and Ten-Forty-Seven had known days when he did not exchange a single word with anyone, artisan or brain-e-fact. But since he did not possess the capacity to feel lonely or marginalised, this wasn’t a problem.
That was all about to change. But as Ten-Forty-Seven loaded the dish-e-fact as part of his regular morning routine, he had no notion of this. He simply performed his task mechanically and methodically, taking little notice of the other brain-e-facts around him, whose fate would soon be in his ceramic hands.
CHAPTER THREE
Abelard awoke on Wednesday morning to full daylight. Had his alarm failed to go off again? His heart rate slowed when he remembered what had happened. He was signed off work, so he relaxed back in bed with a sigh and thought about what he should do with his day.
His engineer mind itched to find out what was going on and his social conscience couldn’t dismiss the potential ramifications of an engineer suddenly developing artisan abilities. If it had happened to him, it could happen to others. The most obvious plan would be to go to the artisans themselves for guidance but there was no way for him to predict how they might react.
He couldn’t achieve anything on his own though, and the only place he could get more information was from the artisans. So he had no choice but to approach them and hope for the best. But how? He couldn’t just present himself at their front door as Mateo had suggested.
Each artisan company had its own base of operations but nobody could gain access without permission from someone high up in the hierarchy. Abelard didn’t have those kinds of connections. The only artisan he actually knew was at a much lower level. Jonathan Worthington-Price had come to Mana-Calls to run a rare engineer training programme a few years before and Abelard and Mateo had struck up a conversation with him afterwards. Jonathan was approachable and friendly and didn’t seem to harbour the usual artisan opinion that engineers were lower than bugs. Or at least not quite as much as other artisans.
There was a Gadg-E-Tech factory not far from Abelard’s flat and Jonathan had once mentioned that he worked there. Jonathan might be a self-important flake but he was Abelard’s best bet for getting help. Abelard reached for his smart-e-fact and punched in Jonathan’s number. Jonathan picked up on the second ring.
‘Hey, Abelard! This is a surprise.’
It would be even more of a surprise once Jonathan knew why he was calling.
‘Hey, Jonathan. Um, is there any chance I could stop by and see you about something this morning?’
‘Here at the factory? Why?’
‘I’d rather talk face-to-face if that’s okay.’
‘Ooh, mysterious. I guess that would be okay. I’ll have to keep you in sight at all times, you realise.’
‘Sure. I’ll see you in a bit.’
Abelard dragged himself out of bed, got dressed and set off to the factory. As he walked, he pulled out his smart-e-fact and sent a message to Mateo, letting him know where he was going and promising an update with full details later. As he was putting the smart-e back in his pocket his fingers brushed against the envelope with Jen’s number on it. He smiled and sent another message, this time to Jen, saying how much he had enjoyed meeting her and asking if she wanted to get together either that evening or the next day.
* * *
It was late morning when Abelard arrived at the Gadg-E-Tech factory. He had walked past it many times but never approached the gates before. The building was surrounded by a high wall with a security checkpoint at the entrance. Abelard strolled up to the guard, trying to look as if he went in and out of artisan facilities every day.
‘My name is Abelard Abernathy. I’m here to see Jonathan Worthington-Price,’ he said with as much confidence as he could muster.
There was a pause while the guard checked some kind of mana-powered information system and sweat started to collect on the back of Abelard’s neck.
‘Building Three,’ the guard said, waving him through.
Was it really that easy? Perhaps the artisans’ supposedly strict security measures weren’t as draconian as Abelard had been led to believe. It was strange that he was just being allowed to wander in unescorted. He wondered what would happen if he went somewhere other than Building Three and decided it would be better not to find out.
So Abelard followed the signs to Building Three, a tight knot of tension constricting his chest as he went in. The inside of the building was cavernous, a vast space filled with unfamiliar artefacts and lots of people scurrying back and forth, intent on their business. Abelard’s eyes darted around, trying to take it all in. A big man in overalls spotted him and came up, his expression suspicious.
‘Can I help you with something?’ The man’s aggressive posture belied the courtesy of his words.
‘Uh, is Jonathan around?’ Abelard asked.
The man gestured to a door off to one side, eyes still wary. ‘In the back.’
Abelard thanked him and moved towards the door, keeping his pace casual. His breath whooshed out in relief when the door opened into a much smaller room with Jonathan as its only occupant.
Jonathan bent over a strange contraption scattered in several pieces over a workbench. His long brown ponytail slipped over his shoulder as he worked and he flipped it back in irritation. He looked up startled as Abelard shut the door behind him. Then he grabbed a sheet of cloth and threw it over what he was working on.
‘Abelard! Ho
w did you get in? The gate guard should have called me to come and get you. And I bet that duncehead Graham just let you wander in here too. No sense of security at all, that one. It’s no wonder he hasn’t been promoted to a design or manufacturing position yet. I bet the company doesn’t trust him with their secrets. He’d be telling people all over the place about the customisation features on the new beaut-e-fact and Spark-le would have a competing artefact out in no time.’ He pulled himself up. ‘Oops! You didn’t hear that from me!’
‘Don’t worry,’ Abelard said. ‘I’m not exactly in a position to tell anyone who matters.’ Though given the circumstances, how long would that remain true?
‘So what can I do for you?’ Jonathan asked, continuing before Abelard had a chance to answer the question. ‘My shift doesn’t start for another hour but I like to come in early sometimes to work on my designs. This is the one I was telling you about the other day. If I can get one of the more senior members of the company to endorse it I might have an artefact in production even before I move up from working here. And that would stand me in good stead for a much better position when I’m finally promoted. You’ve got to think of the future, you see, not just slog away at the daily grind without formulating a plan.’
By the time Jonathan ran down, Abelard’s little remaining confidence was gone. He opened his mouth to start his tale and found his tongue taking him off on a tangent.
‘Are artisans born with the ability to manipulate mana or does it manifest later in life?’
Jonathan gave him a lopsided grin. ‘You know I can’t tell you that,’ he said, then looked thoughtful. ‘Though the question presents rather an amusing concept. If we were born being able to manipulate mana, parents would have a hell of a time controlling their kids. There’d be stuff – and probably people – flying about all over the place. And there’s no telling what they’d get up to once they figured out they could actually control it.’ He caught himself again, this time bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. ‘Shit! You really didn’t hear that from me.’
Abelard’s mind was trying to keep up.
‘So you can use mana to affect objects directly?’ He thought back to how Jen had described his actions two days before. ‘It doesn’t actually have to be channelled through an artefact?’
‘Now, I never said that!’ Jonathan said, eyes widening. ‘I never said anything of the sort! You can’t go around spouting wild stories about artisans wielding forces of mana directly. People would never believe you for a start.’ His tone darkened. ‘And you might get in trouble.’
Abelard raised his hands and waved them at Jonathan as if trying to fend him off. ‘Seriously Jonathan, I think I’m probably in about as much trouble artisan-wise as I can get. Trust me, once you know why I’ve come, me running around telling tales about flying artisans will be the least of your worries. For one thing, I don’t need to make up stories like that – I’ve been one.’
‘Been one what?’
Abelard couldn’t blame Jonathan’s confusion.
‘A flying artisan,’ he said, though that didn’t really clarify anything at all.
Jonathan just stared at him so Abelard decided a demonstration was in order. He glanced around and spotted a pile of charged mana units stacked on a nearby shelf. Walking over to them, he laid both his hands on the top one and felt the tingle as mana leached out of the unit and moved over his fingers. The mana stung his burned hand but he ignored the pain. This time he didn’t break contact once the blue glow had enveloped his hands, instead allowing it to continue up his arms as it had at Jen’s office. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears but he clamped down on his rising fear and instead pictured his feet lifting off the floor. He rose a few inches into the air and slowly spun around until he was facing Jonathan again.
Jonathan’s eyes were wider than Abelard would have thought physically possible and he was frozen in place. Locking gazes with Abelard seemed to break him out of his paralysis and he leapt forwards, waving his hands in the air.
‘What do you think you’re doing? How can you know what you’re doing? How can you be doing what you’re doing?’ He planted his feet and threw his hands out in a warding gesture. ‘Put that mana back right now!’
Abelard wobbled in the air but he didn’t know how to comply. After a few seconds Jonathan seemed to realise the problem. He stepped forwards, took a deep breath and took hold of Abelard’s wrist. All the mana rushed out of Abelard’s body and he fell to the floor, breaking contact with Jonathan and landing on his backside with a thump. The blue glow now crackled all over Jonathan, but not for long. With a thrust of one arm, he sent it shooting through the air and back into the source unit in a long focused stream. When all the mana had returned to its rightful place, Jonathan glared down at Abelard, breathing hard, his entire demeanour altered from friendly exuberance to barely controlled anger.
‘You!’ he commanded with a stab of one finger. ‘Up. Now.’
Abelard scrambled to obey. The moment he was on his feet, Jonathan grabbed his arm and hustled him out into the main part of the building. The man who had directed Abelard to Jonathan earlier stomped over.
‘Graham, call Despatch,’ Jonathan said, his voice quiet but his tone steely. ‘Get them to send someone over to cover my shift and tell them to alert Head Office that I’m on my way.’
‘Now, wait just a minute! You can’t order me about like that!’
Jonathan cut him off. ‘Code 47.’
Graham’s features went slack and he reached for a call-e-fact fixed to the wall.
Abelard looked between them, his breaths coming short and fast. Whatever he had expected from Jonathan, this wasn’t it.
As they moved outside he asked, ‘What’s Code 47?’
Jonathan didn’t even look at him. ‘Not – a – word. This is way above my pay grade. Head Office will have to decide how to deal with you.’
* * *
By the time they arrived at Gadg-E-Tech head office, Jonathan had Abelard really worried. Even the incredible smoothness of Jonathan’s speed-e-fact hadn’t distracted him enough for the knot in his stomach to unravel. A couple of times on the way over, he’d thought about protesting but what could he do? He needed artisan help and Jonathan had seen what he could do now. A few days ago, a visit to the centre of Gadg-E-Tech operations would have been a dream come true but now nausea threatened.
The building rose shining from its surroundings like a glass and steel beacon in the midday sun. Inside, a bank of sleek receptionists routed calls and important looking people strode about in all directions. Abelard just had time to register that the receptionists were ceramic artefacts in human form, but Jonathan whisked him to the lev-e-fact bank without stopping.
It was odd that Jonathan didn’t have to announce himself or show any form of ID as he punched the button for the top floor and Abelard’s stomach flipped over. When the lev-e-fact stopped, Jonathan marched Abelard down a richly carpeted hallway towards a desk where yet another humanoid artefact sat working. It looked up at their approach.
‘Hello, Mister Worthington-Price,’ it said in a stilted monotone. ‘I have not seen you here for a while.’
Jonathan asked, ‘Is Uncle Walter in?’
‘Yes. He is waiting for you. Go right in.’
The plaque on the door read, ‘Walter Snyder, Chief Financial Officer’.
‘Your uncle is the CFO of Gadg-E-Tech?’ Abelard asked, but Jonathan continued to ignore him.
Abelard was still wide eyed and open-mouthed as he was deposited in front of the CFO of the company he’d been dreaming of working for since he was a child. It wasn’t a great first impression to present.
The family resemblance between Jonathan and Walter Snyder was obvious in the whip-thin frame and lanky height but Walter’s lined face was topped by hair cropped short and peppered with grey.
‘Ah, Jonathan.’ Walter rose from behind his desk. ‘And this must be the Code 47.’
‘A-Abelard Abernathy, sir.
It’s an honour to meet you.’
Abelard stuck out his hand then gave a nervous laugh and took it back again as Walter looked askance at his bandaged fingers. The other man’s expression was stern.
‘Mana burn?’ Abelard nodded and Walter continued, his eyes flinty. ‘Well, at least you’ve learned the consequences of careless mana handling early. Now before we proceed, I’ll need you to provide a demonstration of your new abilities.’
‘But I saw–!’ Jonathan stopped when his uncle raised a hand.
‘It’s not that I don’t believe you, Jonathan. But I need to see it for myself if I’m going to take the case before the Council. You more than anyone know we have to take precautions with our security. I can’t recommend what should be done with Mr Abernathy here without judging the circumstances personally.’
Abelard’s nausea ratcheted up another notch. None of this suggested the artisans were going to welcome him with open arms. Should he just claim the whole thing had been an elaborate hoax to wind up Jonathan and ask to go home? The faces of the two men suggested that would be unwise.
Walter gestured at a pile of mana units on a side table.
Taking a deep breath, Abelard walked over to the table and stretched out his left hand. As the mana flowed over his fingers, he imagined a dark prison filled with languishing engineers who had reached above their preordained station. What would Mateo do if he just vanished from the face of the earth? Would Jen be sad never to see him again? The eyes of Jonathan and Walter gave nothing away. A tidal wave of fatigue washed over him as he raised his glowing hand and the edges of his vision went dark. There was a flash, a cry (he couldn’t tell whose) and then nothing.