NetherWorld

by Daniel Quiles Pagan

  ****

  The Docking Stations of the Walled City looked a lot like the harbor docks in any of the seafaring towns. Under the grey pallor of thick murky clouds, a vast green sea of jaba fed the harbor. Viscous ripples from the passing ships lapped against the wharves. High above the ships circled the Batchers; alert for any unauthorized Data dumps. Once Bytes spoil, sailors release them into the harbor to free up valuable space. This keeps the Bin Batchers quite busy plucking the corrupt corpses for a one way trip to the Shredder.

  Most ships resembled large commercial freighters Nick saw back on Karbonon. All large concentrations of data had to travel by ship. No single Byte could efficiently move the information. Instead, they were transported via the ZipLiners. These large freighters carried special group of Bytes capable of carrying compressed data. Each ship was packed with these compressed Bytes.

  Worker Bytes scurried about, unloading ships and preparing others for a new voyage. They were a motley crew of seaman. They looked quite a bit dirtier than the Bytes he had seen thus far. The whole while they worked, Nether curses flowed from their salty lips.

  The smell of rotted fish permeated the harbor air. A humid fishy breeze made Nick purse his face in disgust at the offensive smell. Nick was instantly remind of the trash cans by the shore on Karbonon. Fisherman would often clean and cut their catch before heading home. Every day the cans filled with fish guts and other unwanted oceanic body parts.

  Looking around, Nick noticed all of the Bytes were disfigured down here. Some hobbled with a peg leg instead of a healthy set of plungers. Others wore hooks instead of the normal clawed hand. Still others wore odd patches over parts of their visors. None of them looked directly at Whizzy or Nick. An undercurrent of fear fed the wharves of the Docking Stations. A large collection of clouds overhead cast a large shadow over the entire area.

  Up ahead a very large globe opened up and swallowed a much smaller Byte. He seemed to be threatening the Byte now trapped inside him. Whizzy signaled Nick to scoot off to the side. They hid behind some large boxes of compressed Bytes.

  “We need to avoid that dude up there,” said Whizzy.

  “Why?” asked Nick.

  “He’s a Shakr, one of the cruelest Bytes of the Blue Market. They deal in dirty information. Nothing moves through the Docks without a Shakr knowing about it.”

  “What’s he doing to the Byte trapped inside?”

  “Data shake down. He forces Bytes to release that data they carry. He then sells the hijacked code to the top bidder. We can’t risk him seeing us and telling NazKlan.”

  Shakr wobbled up and down making the Byte inside him screamed in pain. From afar it looked like a rather sloppy version of The Twist.

  “Stop! Pleeeeease! I will tell you what you want to know,” surrendered the tortured Byte.

  “Who is traveling with the Chosen One?” said Shakr with a voice reminiscent of Bogart.

  “WhizzyWig! WhizzyWig! Now let me go!” pleaded the tortured Silicate.

  Shakr flashed a wicked grin. “Just one more shake for good measure.” He then proceeded to wobble until the screams reached new heights of discomfort. Then his body opened up and ejected the tortured Byte.

  He was a sorry sight. His flesh sizzled and smoked, smelling like meat left far too long on the grill. Apparently Shakr was filled with salt from NazKlan’s desolate Sector. The salt worked much like acid and burned the Bytes inside. This poor fellow lost an entire plunger leg. His visor was also half dissolved. The salty shakedown was commonplace down here in the Docks. It was the most effective way to ply data from normally tight lipped Silicates.

  Salt was used in such large amounts, that much of the residual crystals found their way into the harbor, turning the jaba into a brackish fluid. The briny mix was dissolving the hulls of the ZipLiners, causing data spills in the open jabaways. Such spills further polluted the streams around the Docking Stations. There were numerous saline solutions proposed, but no one was brave enough to take on the Blue Market, for fear of the salty shakedown.

  “Whizzy,” whispered Nick.

  “What?”

  “Is this what happened to the other Bytes walking around here? The ones with peg legs and hooks for hands?”

  “Spot on. After a few shakedowns, they become like all the other Old Salts that work the wharves,” Whizzy replied. These Bytes looked liked spherical versions of the old seafaring men from pirate tales Nick heard as a kid. Shakr was the muscle of NetherWorld mob. Currently, he was in the employ of NazKlan, tasked with finding Nick and Whizzy before they could reach Tera.

  “What do we do?”

  “We need to sneak behind these boxes so we can get over there,” Whizzy pointed to an unassuming building on an adjacent wharf. There was a long line of Bytes trailing from the entrance. “Follow me.”

  Chapter 10

  Duke of Floppys

  Book of TranFor: Locking away that which is unpleasant solves nothing. We must confront our issues not confine them.

  They successfully navigated the boxes of compressed data to reach a long line waiting behind velvet like rope. “Is this Flash Playas?”

  “Yeah. I heard a lot of really wild stuff goes down in this place. Been kinda scared to go in myself. Looks like we will get a good look now.”

  Silicate life had its stresses, and they found inventive ways to let loose. Dancing at Flash Playas was a popular venue for Bytes looking to party down. There were other dance halls along the main drag, but Flash Playas was special. Only VIPs were allowed access. The waiting list was quite long. Wild stories about the scene on the inside circulated the blogs. In short, it was the place to be and be seen.

  Reports of wanton tube entanglement and data swaps were wildly exaggerated. Granted, there were unlawful acts taking place in between the strobe light flashes. Split second hook ups between seemingly incompatible formats. Things like this were strictly forbidden for fear of unholy output. Still, under the disco ball, with lights flashing at dizzying intervals, anything seemed possible.

  There were even rumors of spinning taking place. This was considered a high crime. If the Blue Guard ever caught common Bytes spinning, Flash Playas would be taken over by the SolidState. SolidState was the administrative arm of the High Council. They ran the day to day operations typically served by government agencies in places like Karbonon. Each Server used SolidState to runs things while they attended to matters worthy of their status.

  Of course, no Blue Guard or SolidState Bytes ever set plungers in the Docks. Those who dared were summarily shaken, salted and left for the Batchers. Anarchy and intimidation ruled the area. This provided a protection from some of the more oppressive NetherWorld rules.

  A large neon sign that read ‘Flash Playas’ frosted with a fresh coating of regurgitated Spammer dust blinked on and off. A crowd of Bytes lined up to gain access. A bloated blue Globe stood sentry, holding back the crowd with a velvet-like rope. Sounds of rave music and frantic percussive pounding shook the sign and vibrated through Nick’s body.

  “This is it. Let’s head in,” said Whizzy, shaking the SpamTown snow from his tubes. Most of it fell to the sidewalk. The only exception was a minute beetle like creature that dug into one his tubes. NazKlan used the smallest spys and kooks to avoid detection. While Whizzy was sure his tubes were clean, the beetle bored a new home.

  “That’s a long line Whizzy,” warned Nick.

  “Don’t worry, it moves pretty fast.”

  After what seemed hours, the duo reached the big blue Byte guarding the entrance.

  “Are you on the list?” he asked with a deep voice that recruited fear from less confident personalities.

  “We don’t need to be. I have a Tera pass, good for many more cycles.” Whizzy whipped out what looked like a credit card that had Tera’s picture on it. She gave this to him to make his mission with Nick as easy as possible.

  “I have seen these before. Probably fake,” said the guard.

  “Authenticate it. I can wait,�
� responded a confident Whizzy, undeterred by the intimidating vocal stylings of the burly Byte.

  The guard inserted the card into his side. The guards were made with verification devices built into their spheres. Once inserted, the Bytes entire sphere flashed silver, signifying that the Tera pass was indeed authentic. The suddenly silver guard handed the pass back to Whizzy and lifted the rope gate to let them pass.

  “Ok. You’re clear. Straight through then turned right,” said the guard returning to his natural blue hue.

  “Thanks.”

  Whizzy and Nick passed through and headed into Flash Playas. The constant strobe flashes and techno audio pulses made Nick quite dizzy. Whizzy had to prop him up at first. The main dance floor was dark, save the disco ball atop the center, which circulated unpredictable photonic flashes in countless directions.

  “Cheesy bear, big fella,” Whizzy warned as he caught Nick, before he fell to the floor.

  “Sorry Whiz, just got a bit queasy from the light show and crazy house music,” replied Nick. The dance floor was crowded with Bytes wobbling to the techno beat, with bass so deep it shook the very core of each dancer. Of course, that was part of the appeal. It was an additional source of stimulation rarely attained in everyday Byte life.

  Bytes of all types plunged around the dance floor. Greenies, Blues and every possible shade of green-blue wobbled to the music without regard for social status or programmed purpose.

  Silicate sweat created a sauna like atmosphere in Flash Playas. Sweet smells of melon and citrus rewarded the olfactory as the dancing continued on uninterrupted. Tubes gyrated in suggestive undulations, teasing and taunting their partners. Some actually had the audacity to tangle their sweat soaked tresses in dark corners away from the dance floor.

  “Whizzy? What is this place?” shouted Nick, trying to carry his voice above the throbbing thumping sound.

  “You know the light that flashes on your computer at home? It was created to make Karbons think that their computers were actually doing some work. There is no real need for the light and no real correlation to actual work performed by their computers. It’s all just a sham to make Karbons feel like something is actually going on with their devices,” explained Whizzy, projecting his voice louder as well.

  “You mean while we look at the light on our computers, thinking they are working on something, you guys are partying in places like this?”

  “Precisely. The irony is delish! We have long strings of jokes poking fun at silly Karbon ways. You should see yourselves. Now off to find the Duke of Floppys. This way.” Whizzy guided Nick through the crowd. It was spinning room only, so they were constantly bouncing of wiggling Globes shaking their tubes with reckless abandon. Of course, the spheres were none too happy with the jostling.

  “Watch it you!” said one peeved partier while slapping Nick in the face with a sweaty tube.

  “Keep you claws of my tubes, you pervert!” shouted another at Whizzy after an unexpected goosing.

  “Go wobble somewhere else, this orbit is taken!” fired off an angry Byte after Whizzy and Nick shoved him aside to get through the packed crowd.

  A wrinkled globe with a pale green pallor and light orange tubes approached the duo. His unhealthy appearance indicated that Stage Three Taint toxicity was near.

  One of his tubes tapped Whizzy. “Hey, wanna score some Special T. Pure Byte, real pure.”

  “Thanks but no. We’re searchin’ for the Duke, you seen him?” asked Whizzy.

  “He usually spins back in the V.I.B. room.”

  “Thanks.”

  They continued to sift through the dance party until they reached their destination. Neon pink lights with the letters V.I.B. warned off lesser data. Inside the room, Nick could see there were only a few Bytes in a much more lavish setting. No strobe flashed here. A dim light traced the smoky spires cast off by a collection of well groomed globes sitting around a table.

  One Byte in particular stood out. He was the most brilliant hue of blue Nick had ever seen. His visor sparkled behind the smoky mist. A couple of burly bytes with inflated spheres flanked the entrance.

  “Praise AldAyn! I can’t believe my visor!” exclaimed Whizzy, so excited he could burst.

  “Whizzy! What is it?”

  With a clawed hand he pointed to the beautiful Byte in the VIB room.

  “That is Cache! Only the most famous Byte in the Walled City,” he said.

  “Well, he does stand out. What is famous for?”

  “I can’t remember. But look at him. Everyone wants to be like Cache, the coolest Silicate in town!”

  “So, he’s famous, but no one knows why?”

  “Details, Sticky. I would give almost all my data to hang with the Cache.” Whizzy motioned Nick to follow him towards the room entrance.

  “What does this Cache do now?”

  “What do you mean? He’s the Cache. Only the most famous Byte around. He doesn’t have to do anything.”

  “That just doesn’t make sense,” said Nick shaking his head in disbelief. Imagine, the guy is famous for doing nothing. Once famous, he doesn’t have to do anything. These Bytes were a superficial bunch, thought Nick.

  The burly blue-green Bytes guarding the doorway approached the duo. They were some of the biggest Silicates Nick had seen so far.

  “This is a private party. Go wobble with the raving taints back on dance floor,” warned the Byte on the left. His vocals carried more than a hint of violence if this directive went unheeded.

  “Pardon me sirs. Is that Cache in there? It is. Isn’t it! Hi Cache,” said Whizzy jump up and down waiving his gangly arms in wild rotations. The guards grabbed him and pushed him back. Whizzy struggled to break free. Nick thought he heard Whizzy giggling like a love struck preteen school girl.

  “Cache don’t know you Byte. Plunge off.”

  “Wait! Wait! Were looking for the Duke of Floppys. Is he in there with Cache. That would be so cool,” Whizzy could hardly control himself.

  “What’s it to you? Get lost!” replied the Byte on the left.

  “Wait. Visor sent us. You know, Visor.” Whizzy had regained his composure a bit. Visor had ties with many influential Bytes around the Walled City.

  “Visor eh. You know Visor?” asked the guard on the left, his tubes moving with suspicion.

  “Yeah. He told us the Duke knows where the pure taint lies. We need some of that taint.”

  “Well, the Duke ain’t in, so scram!” order the guard on the right. Both guards closed in on Nick and Whizzy.

  “Where is he?” asked Whizzy, almost afraid of the answer. The guards looked capable of doing sizable damage to a much smaller Whizzy. One swipe with their tubes and Whizzy would be cracked and bleeding.

  “Look up, stupid.” One of the burly Bytes rotated Whizzy to see the booth upstairs. There was a DJ booth with an odd looking creature inside. Through the haze, they could not make out the image.

  “Sorry to have bothered you. Thanks, we’ll just be going now. Please tell Cache WhizzyWig said hello. If he ever wants to hang…” The big Bytes ignored Whizzy and turned towards the V.I.B. room. A dejected Whizzy and plunged his way to the stairs leading to the DJ booth. Nick followed behind.

  As they moved out the same litany of comments accompanied their efforts to part the crowd.

  “C’mon!”

  “That’s rude! Don’t push!”

  “Psst. Over here,” came one high pitched voice from the outer layers of the crowd. Nick looked for the source. It was hard to spot through the haze of Silicate sweat swimming in the air.

  “Looking for some taint friend?” said another horrific looking silicate. His rotting tubes hung limp on his green sphere. “Got the good stuff, need a taste?”

  “Get lost pusher! We don’t don’t need your junk,” warned Whizzy.

  “Easy friend. Just trying to spread the joy of taint. One taste. C’mon.”

  “Don’t make me get violent. I’ll rip you rotted tubes right from your head. Don�
�t mess with us.”

  “Okay. Okay.” The sickly pusher slipped back into the dancing crowd looking for another junkie. Many of the Silicates began to embrace taint. As bad as it was for them, the taint produced euphoric sensations and allowed the Bytes to see the world in a different way. Taint abuse became rampant in many sectors. The very worst cases were often in SpamTown. Green Bytes rolled in desperation in deserted alleys, near deletion from the taint.

  Flash Playas was a haven for taint intoxication. Bytes wobbled with artificial energy. The taint also made Bytes far more amorous. They tangled tubes with others in the heat of passion. Under the flashing lights, anonymous tangles were the rave.