by J M Guillen
“There can’t be a total of five passages,” I muttered. “Not with those edges.” Wary of the oddly shifting space, I counted again, noting the angle of the corners as best I could.
Five passages, all with right-angle corners. A patent impossibility, yet every corner I touched registered at roughly ninety degrees.
“Maybe I’m just delusional.” I stopped for a moment and checked my oxygen levels. They appeared to be within parameters, but my Crown showed I’d overproduced monoamines and thyroid stimulating hormones.
Specific hormone levels lay far beyond my expertise. Still, I saw a few mecha available and clumsily allocated them to stabilize my baselines.
After a few moments of fiddling, I frowned.
“I can’t do any good here.” I closed the dialogues. None of the levels had hit yellow, so I felt fairly confident in leaving them.
For now.
I kept my hand on the wall as I turned down the first of the branches. After about ten strides I saw a hatch.
It loomed large, like the kind of door one might see in a noir bank-robbery flick. Not that I’d ever seen a vault set in the floor like this. Nor could I find an obvious handle.
The brushed steel and brass hatch gleamed, fully refined, unlike the not-quite-iron walls.
That caught me for a moment. It looked exactly like a thing I might expect to find in Rationality.
I peered around the edge of the hatch for any identifying marks.
There.
“Sadhana Corporation,” I mumbled. “Est. 1980.” I nodded. Definitely produced in the Rational world and then brought here.
Still, no handle. Did it only open from the opposite side?
No sooner had I wondered than I heard a crushing, grinding sound down the passageway. It echoed hollowly and lurched into a whirring roar with clacks reminiscent of incredibly loud machinery.
Ignoring the inert hatch, I crept forward, wincing at the sound as I peered through the mist.
My initial assessment appeared to be correct.
Machinery sat all along the edge of the hallway. Turbines pulled at several convoluted systems of belts. I saw enough dials and needles to recreate the inside of one of the early Apollo rockets. Interestingly, I found no digital readouts, computer screens, or terminals. The outdated technology ran on steam that vented thickly into the room.
Soon the hallway ended at a slightly larger room. Here, clockwork machinery covered every wall.
I guessed different systems had been patched together over time. Grease dripped into shimmery pools on the floor and flowed down serial numbers and manufacturer stamps. Smoke and steam escaped from coughing valves, and the smell of burning oil hung in the air.
All of it remained very mundane: Rational technology brought into an Irrational world.
“Almost fifteen minutes.” I scowled at the time. I’d been adrift now for a noticeable bit. Anya and Wyatt should realize something had gone wrong.
“Any moment now.”
Unless the temporal drift stretched too wide. What if an hour here equaled a second back in Rationality? Temporal chasms weren’t often that severe, but theoretically…
“It might take days for them to even notice.” I paced, thinking about what I should do.
Gathering intel remained the best use of my time.
I turned down the second passage and walked through the citrine haze. Keeping my hand along the wall, I made certain I followed the path without veering.
The second tunnel opened up far sooner, and appeared to be older. Its walls held scattered, rusty pits all along its surface, far deeper than the ones I’d seen earlier.
“As if the passage itself is decades older, maybe a century.” I made certain to get a good look at the battered walls, so my Crown would get a clear record of everything. “I don’t know how that could be with interconnected passages.”
Though this corridor housed far more machinery, these machines sat silent, dead as the grave. I didn’t see any oil drips on the ground, and the air didn’t smell of hot grease and steam. All the dials pointed slackly to one side, and none of the gears so much as twitched.
I did see another hatch, however.
This one sat in the center of the machine room and, though smaller than the first, it had been constructed in the exact same manner. Again I crouched, searching for a handle, a wheel, or a latch. I would have settled for a fucking doorbell had one suddenly shown up.
Nothing.
Nothing, save ironcast letters on the surface. I brushed away flakes of iron oxide.
“Sadhana, Est. 1980.” I shook my head as I read. Those words struck me, here in a sideways, castaway reality.
I studied the wending corridor that stretched onward, trying to wrap my head around what I’d discovered. The hazy passageway continued after the machine room. Three more huge hatches waited, surrounded by glowing, eldritch mist.
Beyond, the hallway abruptly ended. A wall stood there, covered in machinery that appeared as if it had lain dead for many lifetimes.
“Damnit.” I sighed and wondered if the corridors led anywhere at all. So far, each had been a no-go.
I headed back toward the nexus of passages and turned down hallway three.
2
I leaned against the pitted wall of hallway four—practically a replica of the first three—when the uncanny sensation of monster trucks and stock cars blossomed in my mind. Even more, I felt him, sensed his snarky smile and sarcastic wit. Just then, that half-broken link felt like a raft to a drowning man.
Hoss, I assume you’re still vertical since you got that awful message runnin’. The scratchy words warbled, not as clear as a Lattice link.
Oh man! I laughed. It always surprises me to be happy to hear from you, Wyatt.
Had to come. I felt his grin over the link. Figgered whatever kept ya must be something you wanted to selfishly have all to yerself.
Like what?
Some Irrat hottie in this hole? Maybe a barrel of good whiskey?
Now you’re dreaming. I grinned like a loon.
I have ambient data, Anya interrupted. It is complex and will take a moment to compile all readings. Several axiomatic strands are far sub-Rational.
I get it. I scowled. Check out the atmospheric and gaseous subset. I’m convinced whatever we’re breathing isn’t quite right.
Understood, Michael.
Oh man, Wyatt crowed. You’ve just been having all sorts of fun, haven’t you?
Yeah, I responded. I noticed oxygen was off right away. I know nothing about allocating mecha, but I’ve been fiddling with it anyway.
Clear the line for a moment, and I will send standard directives for your viral mecha. Anya paused. While I do not have the specifications of a Caduceus, I am aware how to use the mecha to maintain baseline metabolism.
Wyatt and I linked our assent at the same time, Clear/Understood. The two links confused our Crowns’ processing for a moment. Unlike a Lattice link, our secondary comms wouldn’t temporally sequence our links and force them to make sense.
A series of high-pitched whines and seemingly random tones sang in my Crown. It warbled a long moment, and then I felt Anya connect like warm honey pouring into my mind.
Crown sync request detected. The prompt felt slow, clunky. Asset 108, do you wish to allow Petrova, Anya, to create connection 01-012wk?
Yes, I linked. Allow connection.
I pulled up my mecha interface and watched Anya set the parameters. She didn’t fiddle around with the internal dialogues as much as I had; instead she went straight to the mecha command modules.
What are you doing? I asked as she pulled several of my currently active mecha into docility and then re-tasked large numbers of them using the command modules.
Viral mecha are, at their base, axiomatic engines, much like Wyatt’s spikes. They allow for alteration of the basic laws of physics, only within a much smaller range.
Really? I cocked my head at that. I hadn’t made much study of the techno
logy; I’d just always assumed the VM were little more than nano-machines.
I lack the training to task them in the same way a Caduceus might. Yet each mecha has a series of fundamental covenants programmed into it. These are fairly simple to access. One of the first codes is a command to maintain the body at its primary operating state.
Okay, so that’s just a setting? To do whatever the body requires in order to continue functioning?
It frees up the Caduceus quite a bit. Once active, these viral mecha can choose to create extra oxygen, heal tissue, or modulate hormones, all based upon the Asset’s requirements. They work much slower in this capacity but respond automatically to shifting conditions.
So I didn’t need to attempt to give them specific tasks?
All manner of specific tasks can be important, Anya pointed out. In this instance, however, all you require is for the mecha to engage their fundamental covenants.
Good to know. Another question occurred to me. Do any of the local axioms interfere with our gear, Anya? I don’t want to find out my disruptors don’t work or the Adept actually slows me down.
Your gear is fine, Michael, but Wyatt will have to recalibrate his baselines for the Tangler.
How far afield are you, stranger? Wyatt linked. We gonna have to walk an hour to find you?
An hour? My eyes narrowed. How long have I been gone?
According to our systems, Michael, you went adrift two hours forty-eight minutes ago. Anya paused. We would have been dispatched sooner, but the Designate wanted to put secondary protocols in place.
Right, Wyatt cut in. Easy enough to see why you didn’t show. I’m only glad I didn’t land on Rosie when I came through.
Initial diagnostics seems to show no lasting damage to my systems either, Anya continued. Although without the Lattice, my readings will be limited. We also lack deep telemetry and I cannot upload data on axiomatic weaving. She paused. I show your systems are undamaged, Michael.
That’s good. I’m not far. If you come forward, the passageway will split. I’ll meet you there. I turned and headed back to the junction.
“Ha!” Wyatt gave me a big grin when I appeared through the mist. “Thought we’d lost you, Hoss.”
“Not yet. So far, the most dangerous thing here is boredom.” The man came forward to give me a handshake that ended in a crushing bear hug.
“The atmosphere might have eventually killed you.” Anya didn’t look directly at me, instead she read her visual array. “But not for another several hours.”
“But my mecha have that handled now?” I popped a knuckle on my left hand.
“Affirmative.” She met my gaze. “We could avoid breathing altogether if required.”
“Here’s where we stand.” I turned back the way I’d come and gestured. “We’ve got antiquated machinery and dead ends down there. Also, I found hatches in the floor, but they don’t open from this side.”
“Sounds lovely.” Wyatt grimaced. “If we’re lucky, mebbe they’re all dead ends, and we can be happy lil’ castaways.”
Anya’s hands twitched, and she appeared distracted. I noticed her fingers moved a touch slower without the Lattice.
“If you want, I can patch you the layout of the areas I’ve covered.” I smiled. “Then we can see if the next passage is different in any way. Maybe we can scout the last one together.”
“Oh.” She gave a slow nod. “I will not be able to get any readings from your patch, but please do send it.”
I closed my eyes. Without the Lattice, patching data felt more difficult. The process took an onerous seven seconds. When I’d finished, I felt as if I’d been lifting weights with my gray matter.
“Let’s move along.” Wyatt calibrated his keys as he started to walk. “If Twitchy doesn’t find anything along this hallway, we can always peek down the others.”
We strolled through the strangeling amber mist, Wyatt and I on either side of Anya as she took her readings. We moved at a crawl that made molasses seem blisteringly hasty.
We found the first of the machines soon enough.
“Are they all like this?” Wyatt ran his finger along one of the greasy gears. “Last century, I mean?”
“Yep. All dials and gears. I haven’t seen a computer screen or a keyboard anywhere.”
“It might be indicative of strong axiomatic shifts in this area.” Anya arched an eyebrow.
“Right.” I nodded, though uncertain I understood. “So you think they might shift axioms often in here, and thus computer equipment might not be viable?”
“It is possible.” Anya shrugged distractedly as her fingers plucked at the air. “There is no way to say.”
“This one of yer hatches?” Wyatt asked. He stood slightly ahead of us and tinkered with a shape wreathed in glowing mist. As I approached, I saw him trace a finger around its edge.
“It is.” I crossed my arms and gave him a wry smile. “And you won’t find a latch, either. It can’t be opened from this side.”
“Says you.” He chuckled. “Good thing I don’t care much about the impossible.” He began to calibrate the Tangler, and it sang at a lower pitch than the tone I’d become accustomed to.
“One moment.” Anya slid her left fingers closed, pinching at part of her interface. Then she pulled down while her other hand made a semi-circular motion.
“Got something, Petrova?” Wyatt squinted at her.
“Perhaps,” she whispered.
“Oh good,” he replied.
“Yes.” The little spot between her eyes furrowed, and she blew a stray strand of golden hair from her face. “I read several sets of Principium Facets, just through this egress.”
“Wait, a… full set?” I raised an eyebrow at Wyatt. Principium Facets referred to the twelve basic axiomatic readings most realities exhibited, data regarding gravity, thermodynamics, and properties of space-time. If Anya read a full Facet set beyond the hatch, it signified yet another topiatic reality hidden within.
Literally, a reality caught within this one, like Russian nesting dolls.
“No.” She met my gaze. “Several sets of Facets. Some are closer than others, but I can perceive more than ten different sets of Facets, each within close proximity of this entryway.”
“Ten…” Wyatt gaped. “What, just on the other side here?”
“Ten different topiatic realms?” I blinked, flabbergasted.
“Most are weak or distant,” Anya admitted. “I read a singular, primary Facet set most prominently, but the more I narrow my focus, the more sets I discover.” She favored me with a fleeting glance. “The realmwall of this new reality is quite fragile.”
“Sounds like it,” I admitted.
“It is highly possible I am reading a singular reality beyond this hatchway, but other, similar hatches are positioned on the other side, each with their own worlds,” she reasoned. “Beyond that, I cannot say.”
“So you think there might be a different topia behind each hatch?” I shook my head in wonder.
“Well, could you read that hatch?” Wyatt gestured ahead with the business end of the Tangler. “Maybe prove they’re all like that?”
“Reasonable,” she mused.
“Unless you wanna go back to the other tunnels my boy here found and poke around, I say we go forward.” He quirked an eyebrow at Anya.
“I will take readings on the second egress,” Anya replied. “From the data Michael provided, these tunnels seem quite similar. It is unlikely we would find significant differences if we backtrack.”
Anya glided forward through the saffron haze. The next hatch lay only a few meters ahead, and she diligently set about reading her telemetry.
After less than a minute, she froze in place. Then her hands began to move more rapidly, eagerly.
“Anya?” I stepped over next to her. “So? Is it the same?”
“Again, I read one primary set of Facets,” she replied. “Several other sets are located beyond the primary one. Most of these are different than the
initial hatch.”
“So, another dozen topiatic realms or so?” The idea boggled me.
“Indeed. It is quite difficult to sort the readings.” She leveled her gaze at Wyatt and me. “Yet I have found something of note.”
“Something positive?” I asked hopefully.
“Unlikely,” Wyatt snorted and waved a hand. “They’re all on fire. Or they’re all full of six-eyed monstrosities.”
“They are not,” Anya assured us. “One set of Facets conforms to Rationality.”
Wyatt and I simply gaped at her for a good long moment.
“By no means is Rationality the closest topiatic reality,” Anya emphasized. “Yet it is a certainty that passing through this hatch will lead us closer to Rational space.”
“Home,” I breathed.
“Indeed.” She raised one eyebrow. “Yet the topia just beyond this hatch is familiar as well.”
“Say what now?” All the reality juggling had started to confuse me.
“The facets of this reality align with those I read within Sathantür.”
“What?” I blinked.
“If we pass through this hatch, we will return to Sathantür. The facets are exactly the same. Somewhere within that topia, a secondary egress connects to Rationality.”
“That sounds too coincidental.” I frowned.
“If Aberration 45717R is planning an invasion, this exit may be their method,” she continued.
“That’s all I need to hear.” Wyatt grinned. “Let’s get home.” He moved to the hatch, his fingers tapping out algorithms I couldn’t possibly track. He pulled the trigger to release a spike next to the hatch.
WHUF.
“Step back, katana boy. Dunno how this one will react to the Crown or some of yer gear.” He spat.
“Yeah?” I stepped back quickly, even though I expected I stood outside the range of his spike.
“Alters the nature of steel.” He struck a few keys. “Fucks up the way quantum electrodynamics bind the iron and carbon.”
“Huh,” I responded from several steps away. “That’s brilliant.”
“It’ll only be active for five minutes or so. Hopefully, that’s enough. If not, I’ll do it again.”
Less than a minute later, the Sadhana-stamped door began to sag downward as if melting. The brass fittings and bolts remained unaffected, but the main structure of the door sank, as if made of taffy instead of iron.