The Arkhe Principle

by Maxwell Rudolf

  His eyes became lava and a trickle of fire sparked upward. "War." Both of them flickered back to white, but an outline of red remained.

  "How do you mean? The dig site is well within the boundaries of their nation."

  "Violence is progression toward unification," he said. "The pursuit of life extension technology is zeroed."

  "Life extension tech? It's been centuries..."

  His voice became like steel, and his teeth began to crack. The gothi's tongue retreated into his mouth. "Soul data can be reused under certain conditions. Recycling technologies are restricted. Atomic level technology is forbidden under all circumstances."

  "What?"

  "Stop talking. You are not here to speak! Only to listen, Gungnir Odinson! Now silence your face, mortal!" The gothi moaned out a green rune, and it coiled like a Plasstien pipe around Gungnir's chest and arms constricting him. Laughing, the priest drank the rest of his tea and poured himself more.

  He strained against the spell, and the harder he fought, the more the gothi laughed.

  "Your pathetic genetic technology has been countered by The Great Arkhe! You fools thought you could bypass reality and interfere?! Sacred items are sacred logic! Killer! Your mortal coil is for a reason. You have been adapted and this, Úlfheðnar of Midgard, is your highest potential!"

  The rune crawled up on his neck and became a collar. It released just enough for him to breathe. "I see you do not like being strangled yourself! What's the matter, warrior? Why not use your own magicks against me and prove who is the mightier?"

  "Can't... breathe... let me go..."

  "Because your useless knowledge of the Futhark runes cannot be used inside the temple! Do not try to unify yourself with Wotan! Your presence is required here, I'm afraid. No, you'll be staying forever!"

  Steinbauer closed his eyes and inhaled again, breathing in the vanilla air. Gungnir snapped his eyes shut and found his bind rune, Seigkeit. He spoke, rending the power loose into the world, and its reddish hue found the magick pinning him down, and cut the cord from the source. He threw himself back, picking up Asger as he did. His shaking hands barely held his spear, and his legs ached. Standing took all of his might.

  The priest rose to his feet and hovered off the carpet, "These facts may change, depending on the circumstances. You will go to Site 13! When your kind was created, we foresaw your arrogance and disregard for the religious hierarchy. Never assume you have a greater connection to the All Father than the Great Arkhe!"

  "What is that?"

  "Line." The gothi said, and he floated back down and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the white turned blue, and he shook on the floor, blood foam coming out of his mouth. He stopped breathing.

  Gungnir sank to his knees and sunk into the soft, spongy plastic. He crawled over, less than a meter away, but could go no further. His eyes sank shut.

  When he awoke, he was on the border of the Empire, facing out towards the American countryside, the only thing standing between him and Site 13.

  Mountain peaks, some so high their peaks brushed the clouds, made his travel arduous. His hands bled from cuts and his body ached from the intensive hiking. Grit cut into his skin as he crested a hilltop.

  The night air cooled his face, and he took a long pull from his canteen. As he surveyed the countryside, he capped his canteen and climbed down the face of a red-veined rock, going slow down the sheer cliff. He eyed a kind of landing which led down into the forests and he dropped down, bending low. An artificially created tunnel led to the front of a wall of Plasstien boards surrounding a door. He hadn't seen this before in all of his travels here, and he thumbed his shoulder light. A patch of red light blinked on and he checked the door frame, looking for forced entry marks. He found an explosive mounted above the door designed to shoot heavy melted Plasstien shards into whoever was trying to force their way inside. Disabling the trap but leaving it in place, he noticed the fine work, marveling of the device.

  "Open the door." He waited and smelled the air, but there was only Plasstien and the forest. He popped the lock open, stabbed the spear into the door, and turned the luminosity dial on Asger, stepping in.

  A blanket covered a pile of medium mattresses in the corner. On the other side of the room, three bookshelves blocked access to a desk with a St. George E-Reader on it. Stacks of E-Files littered the desk and he searched it first. The drawers were crammed full of Kingdom paperwork with decades-old stamps. He patted the backs and bottoms looking for a hidden compartment, and he found one. Crouching down, he set the papers to the side and worked the back until he removed it. He pulled the lone E-File inside, but when he tried to fit it in the reader, the slots didn't match.

  He gripped Asger and scrambled to the door. Now that he had the occupant's scent, tracking her down would be easy. Her scent was delicious, and he was sure he would spend a few nights with her first. He picked up his bag and opened the door while remaining inside and out of sight. He took a deep breath through his nose. There she was.

  Gungnir went outside, closed the cave door, turned off Asger, and set up behind a rock formation. He sniffed the air again, waiting for her to move closer. She couldn't have been older than 23 but carried herself like a confident, battle-hardened woman of many years her senior. She had a light complexion, was short for a girl of her age and wore a winter camouflage parka which fit loosely around her well-toned body. A set of Sinsii goggles dangled below her chin, and her blond hair was tucked under an American style helmet.

  She looked over towards his direction and jumped back, taking something from her belt. Then she disappeared. He jumped out, and spoke a battle rune, letting its magicks interface with reality, and as he did, a sharpened blade made of Plasstien appeared, and he parried it. She came into full view, her teeth gnashing. She tucked the blade under Asger, swept his feet out from under him, and stood below his knees, her blade aiming for his groin.

  Stabbing up towards her knee, he missed and felt her Plasstien slam through his armor and into his wrist. Asger fell meekly from his grasp. He reached down for it, blood pouring out, and tried to cast a healing rune. But she kicked his weapon away and dropped on him, elbowing him in the face, causing him to bite his tongue.

  No time to fight this fairly. Whoever she was, was not only a better fighter, she was entirely too fast. He shouted and the rocks behind her chipped and broke. Gungnir's voice echoed through the canyon and down the face of the mountain, disappearing into the icy landscape. But she was still there, acting like nothing happened. She smiled at him and stabbed her blade into his shoulder, breaking his bone.

  She said something to Gungnir, but it wasn't in a language he understood. She pounced on him, looking down, letting her short blond locks fall from her helmet down her face. Her other hand was held in the air. Then it dawned on him. He was going to be sacrificed to some alien American god and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

  36 Welcome to Pilly's Peak

  "It is time to wake up, my dear," her voice cuddled John like a new lover.

  "Do not call me dear. You are just my house." John had gone on a shopping spree filling the house with quality, fashionable furniture and his house, Elizabeth, had helped him pick out everything. Because of his budget, Lady Billingsworth's was deemed to be the only correct place to shop, and so the furniture people had come in and furnished everything in their latest designs. Having spent his inheritance, he had to find employment.

  "You have 81.25 liters of hot water left for your shower, warmed just how you like it. Your electric bill only allows for hot water refills on the first of every month. The Kingdom goes a long way in keeping energy prices down. In fact, all houses on this block are experiencing a wonderful savings on our hot water reservoir. I am so thrilled you bought me. You make me so happy. Would you like to listen to some enthusiastic morning music?"

  Such a thing didn't exist. "No, and I will pay for extra water. I like to take my time."

  "Noted."

  After shower
ing and shaving, he dressed appropriately, but made three attempts at tying his civilian tie before getting it right. He fastened his golden 2nd Sun Tank Division retirement cufflinks and combed his straight hair back, slicking it down with bio-gel. This interview is going to be easy, and it will be nice to work in the civilian sector for a change. His yellow shirt, handcrafted by the Cornwall Fashion Team, made him feel important, and John Rex was stitched on the front in dark crimson.

  "Elizabeth, I need you to place a few food orders while I am out. I am thinking about having some meat this week. What does the market look like?" John walked down the hallway, his shoes echoing on the wooden floor.

  Her pixilated form followed him around the house. "Neo-venison.4 is up, two E per pound, but neo-pork is on sale; 15% off in many locations in this area. There are also specials on beets and squash."

  "Go ahead and add it to the grocery list." Inside his kitchen, he opened his six-door refrigerator and drank down the rest of his Purge juice. "Need more Purge too," he reminded her. He walked the bottle over to his washing and recycling room and placed the clear glass container in the caramel-colored refill rack.

  "Done." She smiled. "Do well in your interview! I predict you are going to be employed. When you return, I discovered a new vid I thought we might watch together. I like when we spend time together." She sounded so sexy, even down to the way she ended her sentences.

  "Title?" He raced around looking for his bus tokens.

  "'Choices,' a true story about a squad from the 9th Dragoons in the Battle of Northumbreah. Ray Fitzmartel and Angelbeck Traig star. The Edwardian List of Vids rates it four and three-quarter stars."

  They had to be on the counter? "Synopsis?"

  "'Ray Fitzmartel stars as Henry Murphy, the squad leader tasked with the capture of a vital ammunition depot, but! When Marshall Fillmore, played by Angelbeck Traig, discovers they are walking into a trap, Sergeant Fitzmartel must decide whether or not to go through with the plan, even at the expense of his own life."

  "Great. Another war vid. Cannot wait. Hey, where are my tokens? I thought I put them on the counter." Elizabeth pinged out for the electro-tag signature. "By your bed stand. You laid them there last night so you would not forget."

  "Ah yes. Thanks." On his way out, John got his bus tickets. He zipped up his parka and put his hood up. "Alright. Wish me luck."

  On the bus, he made out a few buildings: The Royal Bank, the St. George Cathedral, Herring Clothing, and the Crown, the best pub in Londun. The streets were still empty at this hour, but early city workers were prepping for the morning Londuners, sprayed salt and melting the ice with radiation blasters.

  After a quarter of an hour, the bus stopped at the station. Five people were waiting outside Pilly's Peak next to an obsidian-colored front door. The front had been thoroughly salted down and salty slush sloshed at the entrance. As John was trouncing out of the snow, they all turned to face him. One face stood out from the rest, a long time friend he hadn't seen in many years.

  Neil Nirvana had gained some weight since the last time he'd last seen him. His thin wax-trimmed mustache accentuated his rather Roman-looking nose. A patch of St. George was clearly visible on his right shoulder. Neil stood nearly a fourth of a meter above everyone else, and his stance betrayed a life of service to the Kingdom.

  "Well looks like you have been eating well." John poked his abdomen.

  "And I could still kick your ass."

  They both started laughing and hugged.

  John caught his friend's eyes and noticed the dark stare of a veteran of violence, one he tried to conceal from others himself. The man before him was hard, mean, distinguished. This is not the same man I knew.

  "I relayed at least five messages to you over the E-Net but you never responded." He should have telecasted him. He had received every one of the messages, had put off calling his friend for no real reason, and now regretted it more than ever.

  "I got them and wanted to write back. I was at the front and things were busy. Just became caught up in war. I am sorry. But as St. George would have it, you stand before me now! It is great to see you. How did you hear about this?"

  Neil shrugged. "I own a small living unit on 5th and Yardstation. While small, it suits my needs. Even own a fairly large community garden block not far from there where my woman and I grow food. We quite like it."

  "Bloody outstanding! What is her name?"

  "Emma."

  "Well, it is such a blessing to see you here. What a fortune!"

  "Indeed, John! I doubt we will be competing for the same position. Trying to save to buy my own auto. I found one at the Thomas Recycle Yard at Beltley and Rogers in my budget, but a copper's salary is not much to live on." He took out a pack of smokes and lit one.

  "I hope you are right. How are you going to work for the city and work here?"

  Neil inhaled and stared at everyone else until they all cast their eyes aside. He whispered, "I am only seeking this part-time. Signed up with the city a year back. Before that, got hired between working as a bartender and a pawn hunter down on the South side. Lucky to be alive from the hunter job. Learned a lot though..." Neil's voice faded out.

  A loud buzz came from behind the door as it unlocked from the other side. Neil flung his smoke in the street and John walked inside.

  The woman who opened the door couldn't be more perfect, he dragged his eyes from her black high heels all the up to her stockings, and tight white, one-piece dress. Her aquamarine eyes drowned him, her light auburn hair blinding him to her imperfections. She had the grace of a spring breeze and the complexion of a porcelain dish.

  She sized everyone up, and smiled at John as he was staring at her ruby lips. "Congratulations and welcome to Pilly's Peak. My name is Nancy Hutchin. Come in. Far too cold out there." She closed the door behind them and cleared her throat.

  "Let our two lads here behind you take your coats," she said as two men appeared behind them and racked their clothing. One of them gave John a receipt and pointed to his jacket. She cleared her voice again and the two men left the way they came. "Unfortunately, our openings are limited, but we have positions for a select few. We would love to hire the lot of you, and if you are not selected today, there might be opportunities for you in the future. Maybe. Our tests are designed to make sure you are a proper fit for Pilly's.

  "With that being said, reaction time is crucial in all we do. Things can get dodgy here in a blink. Everything you do will be recorded for our own use and is ours alone by I.D. Regulation 44.6442 Article A, Paragraph 16. So, if that is a problem, feel free to gather your clothing and please leave." All stood their ground, accepting the challenge.

  "Last chance." She smiled again at John. "Once you go with me, there will be no going back. I will warn you now, if any of you try to subvert this process or fail to follow instructions, there will be severe repercussions. Severe." She folded her arms and checked her timepiece. "So you can leave if you feel this will a problem."

  "Anyone?" She waited for a while, nodding her head watching the timer on her wrist. "The door is right there..." she said, pointing.

  "Okay, excellent. Please follow me. Some preliminary paperwork must be filled out. Once everyone has finished, we will begin Trial One. Once again, my name is Nancy Hutchin." She spun on her black stiletto and led them down the hall. Classical Wellstone Era paintings hung from the walls, all in that same detailed, digi-print perfect style with extradited colors and elongated brush strokes near the borders of the art. Edwardian royalty stood tall on their war steeds, and colorful banners displayed the cross of St. George above battlefields from the Pre-Times.

  Translucent glowing grav plates hung motionless and provided the only light. She brought them to a simple room with tiered seating, ten wide. She walked to the front, and turned around. An energy orb descended through the ceiling and flooded the room with gentle purple light.

  "Some of the forms at your seats are quite long and you need to pay attention to every word
on the page." Her eyes caught a man looking down. "I did not say look! If anything is done without my permission, you will be terminated from this interview process. Are we clear?"

  The one who preemptively started almost nodded his head off his shoulders. An interesting phrase, something the Military Coalition would say.

  "The documents before you are to be read and filled out with precision. If any part is left blank or incomplete, your application process will be denied. Treat this as though you were applying for a classified position within the Kingdom. You may begin."

  John grabbed the pen and read. "This paper has been sprayed with bio fluid. Do not misrepresent or falsify information on this document." Fine, John said back in his mind. John heard two people stand. One chair fell to its side. He lifted his gaze. Two people catapulted themselves towards the door trying to escape.

  "Stop!" Nancy yelled at them both. But they didn't. "Freeze! Get back to your seat!" But they kept running for the door.

  "I pronounce you dead in the name of St. George." The two froze next to the door and turned around to face Nancy. John didn't hear her draw a .50 pistol or see where she hid the holster, but the cocking of her Remi couldn't be missed. He ducked down and watched her aim to the left and to the right. Nancy stopped, aimed at the man on the right, and pulled the trigger, braining him. His meat flung at the door and stuck there, sliding down in a paste of red. She moved the sights over to the woman on the left and squeezed. The shot landed in her chest, the impact blowing her heart open, sending arterial spray over the floor and wall. Both corpses dropped to the floor, blood, skull fragments, and brains oozing down.

  The violence shocked him, but something was in the air, and his vision blurred slightly. Thoughts evaporated, and his training nulled out. He couldn't think. Something just happened? His ears rang. John yawned, his eyes wide open. Did she really just murder two people in a job interview?