NetherWorld

by Daniel Quiles Pagan

  NazKlan began laughing a deep hearty laugh that echoed in the dome. His tubular hair wiggled in every direction.

  “Laugh not Sand Byte, we know your tricks. You probably brought some of your trained Spys and Kooks to muscle your way with the Council.”

  NazKlan flashed a surprised look towards SwagBak, who drew particular pleasure from shocking the salted sphere.

  “Yes we know you have trained a small army of these creatures to do your bidding. Do you think us that daft? Prior to this parody you have put on here today, I instructed the Blue Guard to install the most powerful we have to minimize any such moves. So stand down or face your own batching.”

  NazKlan’s countenance turned dark and sated. He once again erupted in a raucous laugh.

  “You cannot detain or delete me SwagBak. I have powerful friends in important places. Places you would least suspect. Places you would never visit out of fear. I do not need my Spys or Kooks. Instead, I brought along some new friends. Analog nation begins our rule today,” NazKlan then spoke what appeared to be unintelligible babble.

  “1011011 111 001 011 01001,” he said in Turingi, which was an old Analog dialect. This was the language used by ancient Silicate civilizations. Before Silicates evolved into Bytes, they spoke only Analog, the mother tongue. These primitive life forms were known to as Bits. The language outlasted the Bits and carried through to the Bytes, until the digital age.

  “What heresy is this? You dare to talk the Turingi under our sacred Dome. How dare you? Have you no sense of decency? You will pay dearly for this act NazKlan!” screamed SwagBak.

  “Just as we thought, these Saltanic desert dwellers have been practicing the mystical arts. We should have annihilated the entire sector when we had the chance,” said the Server for Sector 4.

  One of the options considered by the High Council during the initial infestation was to bomb the sector in Silicate dust. A majority of the council rejected this because of the collateral damage this would cause. Instead, they chose the humane, for lack of a better word, solution and quarantined the invading creatures.

  NazKlan took a deep breath and then sprayed the floor with saliva laden salt. Such an act in the dome is akin to urinating in public. The council looked on at this in shock.

  “He is an animal.”

  “Not fit to lead even a desert!”

  “Disgusting!”

  “We should bomb the lot of the Sand Bytes.”

  NazKlan seemed to take pleasure in their disgust. Uptight bunch of Silicates, he thought to himself. They have no idea what will come.

  Just then, thousands of small robotic spiders emerged from all parts of the room and swarmed SwagBak. The blue creatures made disturbing clicking sounds as the sped toward their target. Oddly enough, these creatures closely resembled the spiderbots that cleaned Nick’s room.

  “Pixals!” shouted another Server.

  SwagBak’s black tubes flitted about in desperation. “You have made a pack with He who eats His own. You would have the undead do your bidding. Even if you consume me the Guard will capture you. You will not leave this dome a free Byte!” he exclaimed.

  Pixals were demonic creatures made from the remains of deleted Bytes. They were forged in the Bin by the nefarious Thrasher. He was the death dealer of NetherWorld. Isolated in the Bin, he preformed the dirty work other Silicates would prefer not to think about. He deleted all corrupt and otherwise unhealthy Silicates in NetherWorld. His, was a thankless job that provided no rest or reprieve from all things vile and unspeakable in this domain.

  Over time Thrasher witnessed so much death and deletion, he developed some terrible and perverse habits. He began building creatures from the shredded dead Bytes. He could only produce primitive creatures. Pixals were his first creation.

  They had dark purple bodies and black spider legs. They could only be programmed to respond to the original tongue. They terrified Bytes, because they were the product of Deletion. Where there were Pixals, Thrasher was not far behind.

  “Release me or face Deletion!” demanded NazKlan.

  “The Council will not release you to spare my Deletion. You know this NazKlan. Now call off the Pixals and go with the Blue Guard. It is for the best. You can delete me, but the Guard will still take you away,” warned SwagBak.

  NazKlan spun over to the Council leader levitated in front of him. In a slow, deliberate act of insult, he spewed salty spit into the visor of SwagBak. Unaccustomed to the salty substance, SwagBak felt the burning. Temporarily blind by the attack, he was helpless. The rest of the council looked on at this treasonous act, unable to help their leader.

  “My dear SwagBak. Do you really think I would stop at just one Server? I ask the council to raise their visors to the ceiling of this dome,” responded NazKlan with confidence.

  Each Server tilted his axis enough to see the translucent dome above them. Again, NazKlan spoke the ancient Turingi code:

  “10100010 1001 0101110”

  With that command, the clicking of Pixal legs grew far louder that the previous time. The Servers could see droves of Pixals crawling up the dome ceiling. A few ticks later, the entire surface was crawling with the creatures. Shadows of spider legs danced upon the dome. Smothered by Pixals, the dome’s trademark glow dimmed; leaving normally well lit alleyways awash in unnatural darkness.

  “Now release me SwagBak, or the entire council risks deletion!” demanded NazKlan.

  SwagBak knew that the Blue guard was outmatched. Many of the Servers would fall. The loss of key High Council leaders was too great a risk to take.

  “As you wish,” relented SwagBak. “Make no mistake NazKlan, this will not end here. We will hunt you down and stop this insurrection. Guards, release him.”

  The Blue Guard spun away from him. NazKlan recalled the Pixals and prepared to exit.

  “You have made a terrible mistake here today. We will do everything in our power to stop this tragic path the council has chosen. You have not heard the last of the Analogs,” warned SwagBak.

  “Foolish Bytes, the lot of you. By my estimation, your ailing queen Tera is near the end. It could be just ticks of time before the last tendril withers away. Then your dream of Joining will evaporate. Before any new being could hatch, we will have reached the Singularity. Of course, none of you will be around to witness any of this,” with that warning, NazKlan spoke Turingi to his robotic spiders.

  “00111000 1010 1010 11111 11 11,” he said with particular pleasure.

  “For those council Servers not fluent in the mother tongue, I have instructed the Pixals to shred every one of you misguided Bytes. After that, they will bring your shredded remains to Thrasher, eater of the dead. He will feast on you strings of data. Brace yourselves, this will be most painful. Today, the Age of Singularity begins,” said NazKlan with a raucous laughter that filled an otherwise silent dome.

  “For the love of Tera, please NazKlan! Not this way. We can discuss this,” pleaded SwagBak.

  “That time has passed. Make your final prayers before death digests your pitiful cores. Esteemed council, thank you ever so much for congregating here today. You made my task of destroying every member of the High Council much easier. By the way, I did ask Thrasher to save most of your shredded remains for making new Pixals. I cannot wait to lead your undead body parts into battle.”

  “You can delete us, but you will never kill the spirit of TranFor. Tera will join with the Karbon before two Downtimes. They will lead us all to the Awakening. We die with that comfort.”

  “So says you. Deluded to the very end. Your Chosen One will never make it to Tera. I have arranged for his journey to end somewhere far from the Nexus. I will spin with gusto as your body parts rain down upon me.”

  “NazKlan, don’t be a fool. Your plan will never work…”

  NazKlan gave the final order with a clawed gesture. The Pixals rushed into the dome engulfing the High Council and the Blue Guard. A purple buggy carpet smothered the pious bunch of Bytes. The council had no
time to mount any defense. Countless spider legs began the gruesome dismantling of the helpless council. Clicking sounds gave way to panicked screams that pierced the humid air. The blood bath began as they ripped into the helpless Servers. NazKlan bellowed as only a king can bellow. He watched as the massacre ensued, savoring every moment. His hair celebrated in some obscene ceremonial death dance. Yellow Byte blood splattered the dome while black tubes ripped from the Servers fell to the ground. The dislodged tubes wriggled for a few seconds more before going limp.

  NazKlan spun in the center of the dome under a shower of shredded code and sunny Byte blood. His tubes waltzed under the carnage, a Singularity celebration. Mad Turingi laughter filled the council chambers as Server after Server was systematically pulled apart. Pixal mandibles ripped into their global shells, unleashing geysers of blood. Their clear bright visors dimmed and darkened as life leaked out on the dome floor.

  In less than a cycle, the screams fell silent on the mounds of minced Servers. The collective leadership of NetherWorld was destroyed in one grisly act. A mountain of Byte flesh held center circle.

  “And now for your rebuttal SwakBak. What say you?” NazKlan picked up pieces of SwagBak’s shredded corpse. “Nothing? No response. Guess it’s time to take a vote. All in favor of TranFor speak up. What’s that? Silence again. What a shame, you pitiful bunch of misguided fools!” NazKlan’s maniacal giggles filled flesh filled dome.

  Now the Nether nation must continue on without any official leadership. This was a powerful blow to the TranFor faithful. In the end all that remained were the stains of yellow blood on the ceiling; a macabre memento marking the end of TranFor rule. Efficient little soldiers, the Pixals gathered the shredded pieces of the High Council and marched them into a pile outside the dome. A flock of Batchers swooped down and began transporting the material to the Bin.

  After watching the horrific display, NazKlan spun around and left the dome. There was still much work to be done to complete the coupe. The Chosen One must be stopped at all costs. His forces were in place throughout the Walled City to ensure the sacred Joining never takes place. As his wrinkled journey back to the Salted Sands, his Pixals were marching toward the Nexus to make sure Tera expires before any possible merger could take place.

  Tera could hold off most of his army from penetrating the Nexus until her power diminished to a certain level. NazKlan knew that she drew her power from the connections. The weaker the connections, the more likely NazKlan’s Pixals could break through. The success of the viruses and the taint were critical to severing enough connections to allow his army to penetrate and rip Tera into countless pieces of code.

  Chapter 6

  The Walled City

  Book of TranFor: The savior from the silver forest will must Join with Her at the Nexus. He will face an enemy only he can conquer.

  “Approach the drawbridge. I’ll be right out!” said the excited voiced still veiled by imposing fortress wall. Nick did as the voice instructed and moved to where the drawbridge would connect with the ground.

  As he moved closer to the scaly wall, he saw that this was composed of some sort of a polymer. Now that he thought about it, everything seemed to be made of tiny plastic fish scales. Some of it looked like stone; some of it looked like glass or metal. The appearance was very deceptive from afar. This must be some sort of plastic world dream, he thought.

  With a mechanical rumbling, the bridge descended to connect the outside world to the Walled City. Nick stepped off the edge of the moat and walked across the massive drawbridge.

  He looked up at some nearby buildings. Lights blinked up and down each edifice. It looked like an out of control Christmas display. Unimaginably tall, the towers stretched all the way to the puffed clouds in the sunless sky. The buildings were crowded together, separated by narrow alleyways. Some were tall cylinders; others were stretched rectangles.

  The stream was far less green beyond the moat. It was almost clear. The moat contained a filtration system to keep most of the green material outside the city.

  “Hello? What is this place? Anybody?” he pleaded. A round blue globe levitated a few feet above the ground. Spinning rapidly as it approached him, he wondered what was next. The globe stopped within a foot or two of him. The spinning slowed to a stop. As the spinning stopped Nick could see that the sphere had a large collection of brilliant silver tubes sprouting out of its top. They looked like metallic dreadlocks. A visor opened near the top of the globe. Appendages, two arms and two legs appeared to be growing out from the globe. When complete, the blue globe was standing on skinny legs and waving rod-like arms. Instead of hands, the arms had claws. The feet were replaced with round suction cups. A small round opening near the bottom of the globe, where a mouth would be, opened up.

  “Nickel baby! What’s up? Welcome to NetherWorld. Please, come in and join me,” he said with a tinny voice while motioning him inside with his metallic claws.

  “What is this place? Who are you? Is this some kind of bad dream? I would really like some answers” Nick said.

  “Step into the Walled City and I’ll give you the download. I am WhizzyWig, your guide. They programmed me with slang so I can better communicate with you,” said the host. Nick noticed that Whizzy’s silver tubes moved randomly when he spoke.

  “Please to meet you WhizzyWig. Got anything for these bug bites? I’m hurting here,” asked Nick scratching his skin raw.

  “Ah, the bugs. Ever since the viruses poisoned the jaba, the forest has been overrun with those pesky things. Be patient, things heal fast here in NetherWorld.”

  “Hope so. It itches like crazy,” he said twisting his face into discomfort as he scratched and scratched.

  “Trust me, you won’t even feel them in a few ticks. Sure you look like a pin cushion right now, but just wait.”

  Nick had not seen his reflection yet. If he did, he would be even more horrified. His face and body were overpopulated with puffy red bumps. He puts his hands over his face and felt the relief map that was his cheek. This was not an uncommon feeling for him, given his acne in the past. But this felt even bumpier than his normal collection of blemishes.

  “Jeesh!” he said.

  “Like I said, give it a few ticks and you will be good as new. Now follow me,” said Whizzy.

  “Alright. Let’s see where this bad trip ends.”

  With that, Nick followed the blue creature with silver dreadlocks. What he saw next was amazing.

  Tall shimmering buildings merged with bloated clouds, casting odd shadows in narrow alleyways. Some looked liked evil faces, others like mythical creatures marching in the twilight.

  In these dark alleys flowed jaba streams, meandering throughout the city; connecting the geometric collection of towers. Blue globes glided down every avenue. Most surfed on the stream, a few spun around above it. Surfing globes buzzed through the jaba leaving small wakes rippling behind. Each Byte was on a mission to relay critical code to fulfill a Karbon computer command.

  Larger streets were book ended with sidewalks, where Bytes walking plunger like legs made their way to local shops and buildings. They moved along a fair clip, but managed to avoid bumping into each most of the time. When two globes did collide, each was bounced off his axis, with skinny legs scrambling in the air until balance was regained.

  Building lights danced a dizzying disco display. Nick couldn’t stare too long lest he would lose balance and fall into the stream. Flickering on and off in a seemingly random pattern, the lights indicated Byte access. Each building was divided into a series of rooms. Each room, or office, housed a unique set of code. When needed for any program or command, the code was accessed by Bytes and transported to the source. Once accessed, the room flashed with color. Colors vary by type of code contained in the room.

  Only one space in the Walled City was cleared for a park or open square. Space was optimized to cram as many code buildings as possible. Each building had tube transports, or elevators for the Bytes to reach each flo
or. Hallways provided access to the offices.

  The stream from the forest divided into tributaries and flowed through each alley. The current guided the stream from the forests into the metropolis. It fed the stream with critical energy needed to sustain the jaba energy. This part of Netherworld looked like Venice juxtaposed with New York City. The collection of buildings continued on as far as Nick could see. The size and scope of the Walled City exceeded anything in Karbonon.

  Nick followed the blue globe walking on plungers for legs. Whizzy led him toward a nearby cylinder shaped building. His suction cup feet left a clapping sound after each step. His funky hairdo bounced as he walked. Whizzy led Nick over an arched bridge. As they descended the ornate bridge, Nick nearly lost his balance.