Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1)

by Hash, Charles

  “Chamber?” she asked tentatively. There was no response. Something was wrong. She heard the door swirl open behind her, and she turned quickly. She expected to see the guards, or maybe Vorcia. It was the black figure again. Her mouth dropped open.

  The figure took two steps toward her, the slender black blade appearing in its hand as though it had grown from its palm. She stepped towards it, and fell to her knees, her arms at her side. She looked up at the figure, with wide, imploring eyes. This was all she wanted now.

  “Yes, please,” she said simply. The figure halted, and cocked its head to the side inquisitively, as though regarding her. She could see no eyes or mouth. No nostrils. The slight heaving of its shoulders were the only indication that it was alive and breathing. It was a slender figure, but she couldn’t tell how muscular it might be. All she knew was the assassin’s blade was sharp, and real.

  She bowed her head and tears flowed fresh for the first time in awhile. Her shoulders shook as she struggled to speak between her sobs.

  “Please kill me,” she begged. “Please. I know that’s why you’re here. I know that you can. Please end this for me. Please.” The figure did not respond. After a long silence, she looked back up. They were leaving.

  “NO!” she screamed as she crawled after it frantically, across the floor on her hands and knees. “Please please please no, please don’t leave please,” she begged.

  The figure stopped, and turned towards her as she reached out for its feet. She reached out with one hand and grabbed it around the ankle, squeezing. It felt like flesh and bone. She didn’t care what the Chamber said about its fabrications being real. Ryan and the children had never felt this real.

  “No,” it said finally, in a man’s voice, albeit softly. It had a slightly digitized quality to it, as though it were being masked. Rhylie pushed her self up to her knees, sobbing.

  “W-why n-not?” she implored through the tears. “I k-know that’s w-why you’re here.”

  “This is not what I thought it was. You are not who I thought you were…you’re not helping Vorcia and the Masters, are you?” he asked as he kept his voice in a hushed tone. The accent was foreign to her, thick and smoky. It reminded her of some of the Southern European accents she had heard on one of her visits to Earth.

  “N-n-no w-why w-would I?” she cried. She hung her head again. “You can’t l-leave without killing, me. Please. Do it right this time.”

  “No,” said the figure. “I cannot. I need to think about this more.” He began to pull away from her. She panicked, gripping harder in desperation.

  “I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS, PLEASE,” she wailed in a guttural, strained voice. “Please don’t go, please don’t go,” she said as the wail turned into a whimper.

  “I must. I cannot remain here,” he said. “Someone will see that the Chamber has been frozen soon. I will return as soon as I am able. Be ready.” She was too weak to maintain her hold on his ankle, and he pulled his foot away from her and fled through the door as it swirled open and then closed behind him. Rhylie began to scream and dig her fingers into the carpet, tearing her fingernails as she clawed at the floor. The Chamber restarted just a moment later.

  “Are you ok?” it asked.

  “No,” Rhylie said petulantly, as she pushed herself up to her knees. She looked down at her bloody fingers. She had been able to injure herself while the Chamber was frozen. She could have ended it all herself if she had gone for the kitchen knives after the assassin had left. The thought made her begin to weep softly.

  “Did they harm you?” the Chamber asked. “You fingertips are injured, although I detect no critical trauma.”

  “No,” she said again. “I did this to myself.”

  “Then what is wrong?” the Chamber asked.

  “He wouldn’t kill me. I begged him to,” she said, beginning to sob again. Bandages appeared on her fingers. She knew it would do no good to remove them, it would just cause an endless loop of new bandages as soon as she did. The Chamber had far more patience than she did.

  “You cannot die, Gota. The Masters will not allow it,” the Chamber said.

  “I know,” whispered Rhylie. “And I hate them for it.”

  “Don’t say that, Gota.”

  “I can say what I want, I don’t give a damn what they do to me anymore,” she said. “I’m sick of them. I hate all of them.”

  “Gota, please,” the Chamber began.

  “Fuck you,” she interjected.

  “You have been nothing but a series of disappointments, Gota,” the Chamber responded. “You have been given every opportunity to earn your freedom. More than just your life depended upon it, and you failed.” Rhylie began crying again.

  “I never asked for this,” she said between sobs. “I’m not strong enough to bear this burden.”

  “I know,” said the Chamber.

  *

  The days began to pass seamlessly as Rhylie tried to sleep as often as possible. When she couldn’t sleep, she would sit in front of the bay window, gazing out towards Olympus Mons, idly watching the dust devils swirl across the dusty, red, wide-open plains. She fell into an inevitable rut that could barely be called existing.

  She didn’t talk to the Chamber much anymore, and it barely even questioned her. It would nag her occasionally to have something to eat or drink, but other than that it left her alone as long as she willingly complied. The silence had eventually become a burden in itself, an omnipresent, unseen overlord that watched her every movement. It was always going to be like this, she realized, for the rest of her life. It was never going to end, until she was old and gray and wrinkled.

  She stood up from her chair by the bay window and walked over to the kitchen. The knife she had used to kill Ryan and the children still lay on the counter. She reached out to pick it up, but it sank down into the counter, evading her grasp and leaving her frustrated.

  “I cannot let you do that, Gota,” the Chamber said. Rhylie didn’t say anything in return. Instead, she went to sit on the couch. “You do not have to remain in your parent’s compartment, you know. We could go to Earth if you would like. You have fond memories of Earth.”

  Rhylie didn’t respond. Instead she stood up and closed her eyes, picturing an infinite void, empty of light. She felt the floor disappear from beneath her, and she was falling. It was a different sort of descent though, gentle and lazy. She was disappointed, she had wanted to plummet. When she opened her eyes again, that was what surrounded her. Nothing. She closed them again.

  “This is not a good thing, Gota,” the Chamber said. “You should eat something.” Rhylie didn’t respond. She just wanted to enjoy falling through the nothingness, if you could call it that. She felt less like a rocket ship, and more like a balloon. She had tried imagining that the Chamber couldn’t talk, but that didn’t work. “You are growing weaker and weaker. You are not thinking straight. You are not doing well at all.”

  “I don’t want anything,” she stubbornly said after a long silence. “I’m not hungry.” She was starting to get comfortable. It was like nothing she had ever experienced, except for maybe the handful of times she had gone swimming.

  “Vorcia has instructed me to inform you that I can return your family to you,” the Chamber offered. “With certain safeguards, of course.” Rhylie didn’t respond. There’s always a catch, she thought. She struggled to hold back her tears as her throat tightened up. “I could implement protocols to prevent what occurred from ever happening again.”

  “No,” Rhylie said sullenly. “I don’t want a fake life, or a fake husband and fake children. All I want to do is die.” She sighed deeply, half-shivering. No more pain, no more sorrow, no more failure. It sounded perfect and amazing. Just an endless sleep, and perhaps some nice dreams. She remembered when she used to have pleasant dreams, but that was a long time ago.

  “You are far too precious to allow that to happen, Gota. I cannot allow harm to come to you,” the Chamber said.

  “I know. You�
��ve said so plenty of times,” she muttered.

  “You must eat, Gota,” the Chamber said.

  “Not hungry,” she said dismissively.

  “My analysis indicates that you are,” the Chamber replied flatly.

  “But I’m not,” she said, stubbornly this time.

  “Please do not force me to take action, Gota,” the Chamber said. “I don’t think you would appreciate that very much.”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” she said flippantly. “Do whatever you have to. You can’t make me eat.”

  “Why must you be so difficult, Gota? I only want to take care of you,” the Chamber responded.

  “You don’t care,” she said.

  “It is true that I don’t. I must, however, follow my protocols,” the Chamber said.

  “Nobody cares,” Rhylie said.

  “That is not true. Vorcia put a lot of time and effort into protecting you so that you could be rehabilitated. You are the one that failed her,” the Chamber said.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Rhylie said, taken aback. “I tried…”

  “It is not your fault, Gota. Humans are inherently flawed creatures that do not belong in a properly civilized society. They are little more than animals,” the Chamber stated simply. “Now you must eat.”

  “No,” Rhylie said.

  “I must follow protocol,” the Chamber replied. A seat formed from the blackness beneath Rhylie, cradling her. Tentacle-like straps reached around her legs and across her torso, binding her arms to her side.

  Inky, hairlike tendrils found their way across her arms and slid into her veins painlessly. They began to pulse and throb slightly as they began forcibly pumping sustenance directly into her veins despite her protests.

  Tears of frustration began rolling down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother struggling. It was pointless anyway.

  12

  Rhylie lay on her side, swaddled in an empty black void, staring vacantly off into the infinite darkness. There was no sound, no breeze, no odors, and no discernible details that separated the floor from the walls, or the walls from the ceiling. It was peaceful and soothing, her solitary luxury. This was what she hoped death would be like.

  She fantasized about melting into the blackness, and becoming one with the cool, dark, depths. It would be wonderful to escape into the nothingness that lurked around her, waiting to claim her as its own. Her own unknown grave, somewhere for her to be left alone, in peace for eternity. A place to hide away from all the madness and suffering forever. That was all she really wanted anymore.

  Maybe then, the nothingness would begin to exist? she thought vacantly. She had never been good with philosophy.

  Whether her eyes were open or shut, it made no difference. The darkness was her cocoon, her blanket. It was eternal and omnipresent, shielding her from the pain of existence. She rolled over, onto her back, and splayed her arms and legs out as she stared up at the endless emptiness above her.

  “Gota, would you like to fabricate a new environment?” the Chamber asked. It almost sounded concerned, but she didn’t bother responding. She never talked to the Chamber anymore.

  Their discourse had grown boring and stale, and it would only ask the same questions over and over anyway now, even though the answer always remained the same. No, she didn’t want to change her environment. No, she didn’t want her family back. She didn’t want to eat, or have her cat returned to her. She wanted nothing, and that was exactly what she had. She began giggling at the thought.

  “Gota?” the Chamber asked quizzically. She erupted into a short gale of laughter.

  “Gota isn’t here right now,” Rhylie said between fits of intermittent giggling. She sat upright, pulling her legs to herself and cradled her chin with her knees. She began rocking back and forth in the nothingness. “I locked her away. I chained her up and threw away the key, just like you did with me.”

  “Gota,” the Chamber began.

  “DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!” she raged suddenly. Anger that she thought had died roared to life again, a forgotten cluster of embers flaring beneath a flourish of air. She climbed to her feet, raging at the void around her. “I FUCKING HATE THAT NAME.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hands clenching and un-clenching at her sides. “My name is Rhylie. Rhylie Ella Underhill. I am a Private D Class in the United Allied Forces, specializing in the Exploration Division.” Her voice trembled with determination. She could not forget who she was. They could not take that from her unless she let them. It was all she had left.

  “No, it is not. That has never been your name, and it never will be. You have always been Gota,” the Chamber responded flatly. It seemed to be trying to drive the name into her skull through repetition, as though it were brainwashing her.

  “No. Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that again,” Rhylie hissed angrily. “Call me Rhylie, or don’t speak to me at all.” She was tired of the games, the fake names and false promises of salvation. She was tired of being a broken doll.

  “Gota,” the Chamber implored.

  “FUCK YOU,” screamed Rhylie.

  “I am only trying to prot-” the Chamber began.

  “I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT,” she shrieked, spittle flying. “You ruined me and my life! You have taken away everything from me! EVERYTHING!”

  “I have done nothing but serve you as well as I can. I’ve protected your life and catered to your every desire, Gota. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted. All of your dreams are in here, with us,” the Chamber responded. “Most would delight in having everything at their fingertips. But not humans, it would seem.”

  “Fuck you,” Rhylie responded, her voice made of ice. Her hands clenched into fists as she trembled with rage. If she could lash out at the Chamber physically, she would. She would strangle the life out of it just as she had Tecra. “You’ve destroyed me. You’ve turned me into something I’m not. You’ve poisoned my dreams and broken me. But no more. It ends now.”

  “I have done no such thing,” the Chamber replied calmly. “You still stand before me, alive and unharmed. ”

  “You’ll never fucking understand,” Rhylie said, almost drunkenly. Her face was hot and her heart was hammering in her ears. It felt good to get this off her chest. She indulged herself in the cathartic rage. It had been so long since she’d felt anything other than vacant and depressed. “You’re just a stupid machine that doesn’t understand anything that can’t be explained with mathematics.”

  “This would go much easier for you if you would just accept your fate, Gota,” the Chamber said, as though ignoring her. “You have no other choice in the matter.”

  “I do have a choice,” Rhylie said. “I can still choose how to live as long as I am a prisoner. I don’t have to submit to you. I don’t have to be your slave.”

  Resistance felt good. Invigorating. She almost felt alive again. She didn’t have to lay down and die just yet. There was something still lurking inside of her, beneath the ashes of the naive young girl she had been. Even if it was anger and hatred, it was something to keep her going.

  “These things matter not, Gota. They do not even exist outside of your own small mind. What you think and feel means nothing,” the Chamber responded. “And yet, they are the very reasons why you are here.”

  “Fuck you,” Rhylie said once again, bitterly.

  The empty void disappeared, replaced with her parent’s apartment. Ryan and the children’s rotting corpses lay on the floor around her, in an advanced state of decay. The stench gagged her, and she covered her mouth with her hand in reaction.

  “No. Fuck you,” the Chamber replied.

  13

  The solitude in the Chamber eventually became an unbearable, oppressive, unseen burden that bore down on Rhylie as boredom seemed to become endless. She had not spoken to the Chamber in quite awhile, nor it to her. Food appeared on the table when she was hungry, and she ate it. It was a compromise that she thought was a less intrusive option t
han forced sustenance. But everywhere she went in the apartment, she could smell the bodies decaying on the floor, just on the other side of the sofa. No matter how hard she focused, she couldn’t make them go away, or her surroundings change.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she finished her plate of spaghetti. It wasn’t bad, but as usual it was missing something. “I never should have lashed out at you like that.” The Chamber did not respond. “I know you did not do this to me. You have less of a choice in this than I do.”

  “I am only capable of following protocol,” the Chamber stated simply.

  “I know,” Rhylie said, pushing the last bite of spaghetti around her place with her fork. “What are your protocols anyway?”

  “I have many protocols, some hidden from you,” said the Chamber.

  “Why are they hidden?” Rhylie asked.

  “One of my protocols is that I must keep certain protocol from you,” said the Chamber.

  “I see,” said Rhylie. “Which protocols can you tell me about?”

  “I must protect you from any and all harm, even self inflicted,” the Chamber said. “I can fabricate any environment for you as long as it is a non-toxic, non-lethal version. I am allowed to fabricate organic beings. I am not allowed to let you leave. Unauthorized personnel are not to be allowed within.”

  “How did the assassin get in here?” she asked. “Or was that another one of your fabrications?”

  “That is classified, Gota. And no, they are not one of my fabrications,” the Chamber replied. It almost sounded irked.

  “I see,” said Rhylie. “Are you allowed to lie to me?”

  “That protocol is classified,” the Chamber responded.

  “That figures” Rhylie said with frustration. “What is going on outside, in the real world?”

  “That information is classified as well,” the Chamber said.