NetherWorld

by Daniel Quiles Pagan

  The Miners were apparently too aggressive in their effort to carve out the SubRoots. Some of the buildings in downtown NetherWorld collapsed once critical supports were compromised by the rabid Miners. It became obvious that NetherWorld did not have the foundation to support tunneled transportation. Scrambling to mitigate the political fallout from this misguided undertaking, the High Council created a story to divert the blame somewhere else.

  Blaming the architecture, the Servers called for a new version to replace the faulty Bytes who constructed the shoddy buildings. Blue Guard Bytes rounded up all of the current architectural Silicates and sent them to the Bin for a good Thrashing. By selling this story, the High Council escaped widespread Silicate wrath.

  A few blocks were badly damaged by the Dig. Buildings were tilted at odd angles, causing them to lean over the streams. The occasional quake collapsed a few them, deleting scores of Bytes in mid-stream. Eventually, the Servers condemned the most dilapidated blocks. Over time, these blocks became known as the Silicate Slums. They became the domain of outcast Bytes, such as the Unclean and other unsavory characters.

  Before long, the Silicate Syndicte, the dominant mob of the Walled City, assumed control of the entire sector. Reports of shakedowns and Byte battery were common for the area. Very little effort was made to police the sector. Scores of Silicates had to be relocated to nearby Sectors for their own safety.

  To avert any future problems, the SubRoots were shut down. The Blue Guard helped to round up the busy little diggers and mitigate the SubNetheran threat. Most of the Miners were sent to the Bin for mass slaughter. Very few escaped this extermination.

  Merry and Prank joined up with the Randoms of HateAsh to escape this Miner cleansing. No one paid much attention to this group because they were a wacked out bunch of idealist. This made the perfect hiding place for the duo. In time, they too embraced the philosophies espoused by the Randoms.

  In the wake of these unfortunate events, NetherWorld was left with a series of tunnels that could still be used for clandestine operations. The High Council believed that the SubRoots might come in handy sometime in the future. A detail mapping was recorded for any future missions requiring SubNetheran travel.

  Over the cycles, most of the Silicates forgot about the tunnels. Without the Data Miners to maintain the tunnels, the SubRoots fell into disrepair. Many routes were blocked by cave ins and other structural perils. Only the High Council and the Blue Guard were aware of the full extent of the tunnels.

  Whizzy, Merry and Prank had one of the only remaining maps of the SubRoots. There were still a couple house in the Nexus, but no one bothered to keep track of where they were.

  “Hurry! We’ve no time to waste. The holo-map says we have to go under the Silver Forest to get to the Bin. Let’s go!” urged Whizzy wobbling down the SubRoot shaft leading to the main tunnels. The dingy walls were only illuminated by their glowing visors.

  “Must rush. Must Mush,” echoed the Miners. They moved out in front to drill through any debris. As they entered in the main area of the tunnel, the shaft behind them collapsed, sending crumbles of silicate rolling towards them. One particularly large boulder knocker Whizzy right off his plungers.

  “Help! Back here Merry! I’ve heen bit by a shoulder.” Although Merry and Prank could not make out exactly what Whizzy meant, they rushed to his aid.

  “Thanks. I think I’m otay. Let’s move on, but nick close to be please,” asked Whizzy and he continued along the tunnel that was directly under the Silver Forest.

  As they approached the area under the forest, they heard a series of odd sounds. First they heard “plop, drop, plop” sounds. Following the “drop plops” was a “hiss” sound. The closer they got to the forest, the more frequent this series of sounds became. By the time they reached the area, the sounds cycled so fast, it was musical.

  “What are those sounds?” asked Whizzy.

  “Plop, plop, hiss, hiss” Merry and Prank offered. They exchanged curious looks and shrugged their arm like appendages.

  “Well whatever it piss, it doesn’t sound good.”

  Soon they were in range of the strange sounds. Focusing their visors toward the source of the sounds; what they saw was most curious. Dark liquid dripped from the forest above. When it hit the tunnel floor, the acidic matter burned holes. Whizzy and his Miners approached one of these holes with more than a modicum of caution. Gently guiding their plungers to the precipice of a particularly large hole, they guided their visors down the hole.

  “What’s down there?” Whizzy asked.

  “Dark. Very dark.” Said the Miners.

  “I get that. Let’s see. Hand me some of that rubble over there,” ordered Whizzy as he pointed his clawed hand toward a collapsed area. Merry gather a few pieces for Whizzy. He proceeded to drop the rubble down the hole. Many ticks tocked and no sound ensued from the falling matter. They could have waited cycles and they would never have heard a sound. To the best of their observation, it was a hole without a bottom. Pure nothing. A nothing that was quite possibly infinite in scope. They decided that it was better to avoid these holes as they traversed the tunnels.

  “Careful guys. These black holes must be avoided. Let’s step around this mess and get to the Bin,” said Whizzy. Merry and Prank made it a point to move away from the ever increasing series of holes. It became quite challenging as they delved deeper under the forest. Acid rained in the tunnels holes, leaving little room to safely navigate towards the Bin.

  Flat black shapes seeped out of these bottomless holes. The amoebic shapes wiggled their way up to the surface of NetherWorld. Whizzy and his duo decided it best to avoid anything that came from the holes.

  Merry and Prank dug through some of the clogged areas to get through. Whizzy was really glad they agreed to help him. Without their help, he would have probably fallen in the abyss carved out by the acid drippings.

  “Blibble Bibble blurpy burp!” said someone out of sight. It was an unitellible, but nonetheless eerie series of words that made them stop and look around.

  “What was that?” Whizzy asked the Data Miners.

  “Beserks!” said Merry

  “Yes. Beserks!” agreed Prank.

  “What do we do?” asked Whizzy.

  “Run Whizzy!” shouted Merry.

  “Yes! Run fast Whizzy!” chimed Prank.

  Whizzy plunged as fast as he could down the closest tunnel. His visor lit the way in the otherwise pitch black tunnel. Merry and Prank trailed behind.

  “Glibble tibble gabble babble,” said the group of Beserks as they followed Merry and Prank. These were the undead of NetherWorld, creatures long past expiration, somehow clinging to a haggard existence in the darkness of the SubRoots. They were known to gang up on any unsuspecting Silicates crazy enough to stroll in these long abandoned tunnels.

  No one has ever lived after falling prey to the Berserks. Driven mad by missing Downtime, they roamed the streets spouting babble until the Batchers rounded them up for the Bin. The babble is actually a unique language called Jabber. Each word encompasses a collection of thoughts. One sentence contains information equivalent to an unabridged dictionary. No Silicate other than fellow Beserks can process thoughts that quickly. Any Karbon would be left in the dust.

  The lack of downtime heats up their core, which makes everything go faster. They begin to process data at higher and higher speeds. At first, this is an amazing rush for the Beserk. Once a certain speed limit is breached the process becomes uncontrollable. The can communicate with each other quite well. Over course, a few sentences encompasses years of conversation and normal speed.

  The heat expands the Beserks’ blood until the outer shell bursts, blasting boiled blood all over the place. The only way to cool the blood is by ingesting normal Byte blood. The impact is minimal and fleeting.

  In order to delay their inevitable and messy fate, Beserks preyed on normal Bytes to extend their lives. The digested jaba from normal Bytes also helps to sustain them for a shor
t time. In order to survive, they hunted the Normals up above. This is what the Beserks called surface Bytes. During the twilight between day and Downtime, the Beserks emerged from the SubRoots to capture unsuspecting Bytes.

  These unlucky globes were brought back to the SubRoots, where they become food for the undead Beserks. Unrestrained incoherent babble echoed through the tunnels as the Beserks feed.

  They can never hunt after the Boot because the light heats their core, which could result in a premature explosion. Thus, they are creatures of darkness and shadow, waiting for their next hapless victim. The Blue Guard was terrified of the Beserks and refused to confront them. The High Council considered the Beserks an unfortunate but well contained problem that purged the Walled City of less intelligent Bytes caught roaming too late in the twilight of Downtime.

  As the Beserks came into view, Merry and Prank could see their wispy yellow tubes draped over their neon yellow globes. They looked like mini suns wearing limp blonde braids. Their black visors turned towards the duo. They looked at each other and exchanged some babble before renewing their approach. They plunged toward them with arms outstretched and claws pointed to the Miners.

  Merry and Prank revved up the drills and pointed towards the group of undead Silicates. Faster and faster, the drills made a humming sound. The Beserks were undeterred. The slowly marched forward with arms outstretched. Step by step they inched closer to the Miners and their high pitched drills.

  Whizzy plunged right into a wall of walking Beserks. They too were babbling incoherent nonsense to each other. The marched steadily towards the group, sandwiched between babbling Beserks. There was nowhere to run. Trapped they looked to each other for ideas, but none were forthcoming.

  “Blibble bibble blurpy burp!” Jabbered the group behind them as they approached Merry and Prank. The Miners wobbled with fear as they pointed their drills towards the undead, trying to look brave.

  “Shuffy Cluff puffy wuff scuffer” said the zombie yellow globes closing in on Whizzy. He looked around for any avenue of escape but turned up nothing.

  The group approaching Whizzy crowded together as they tried to fit through the tunnel. As they touched, ripples of fluid under their spheres developed. Still approaching, they continued to collided, further aggravating the fluid beneath their surface. Their skin was paper thin; hence their blood yellow hue.

  As the collisions increased, one of the Berserks exploded, sending yellow fluid all over the tunnel and his fellow Berserks. A hissing, much like the one they heard earlier, ensued. Smoke rose from splats of yellow fluid, as it burn through the tunnel floor, falling into the endless darkness below.

  The fluid also burned through the outer skin of the surrounding Beserks, causing them to burst. A chain reaction of Beserks combusted, send more yellow spatter across the tunnel. Large holes developed from the acidic blood. Whizzy carefully avoided the yellow splatter.

  When all of the Beserks in front of Whizzy exploded, he motioned Merry and Prank to follow him forward.

  “This way, there is still enough solid tunnel for us to cross before it all caves in the hole. Let’s go!” said Whizzy.

  “Go! Go!” exclaimed the Miners as they followed Whizzy, carefully dodging the holes and any acidic blood spatter. They crossed the hissing floor to solid ground and resumed their quest. Behind them the second group of Berserks crashed and collided, created an even larger hole behind them. One thing was certain, they could not turn back.

  Up ahead they saw gushing black fluid falling from above. A massive chasm, formed from earlier Berserk explosions, captured the effluent. Like a great waterfall the effluent poured into the bottomless pit below. The smell of fresh vomited rushed toward Whizzy and the Miners. A slightly sweet sticky air smothered them.

  “The sooner we get out of the better!” said Whizzy.

  Whizzy checked his holographic map. They were directly below Thrasher’s domain. Clicking sounds leaked from above. Then, they heard the unmistakable reptilian voice.

  “This must be the Bin, guys! We need to drill up into this area to rescue Nick. Let’s find a place and dig away,” said an excited Whizzy.

  Merry and Prank did a clumsy Miner jig in celebration, casting rubble toward Whizzy. Once again, he was knocked off his plungers.

  “What did I sell you two about the rubble!” exclaimed Whizzy as he regained his stance.

  “Sorry. So Sorry,” replied Merry and Prank in unison. Whizzy was too busy dusting himself off to see the amused looks the Miners exchanged. Diggers were notorious practical jokers. They exchanged high pitch snickers and began drilling up into the Bin.

  Chapter 19

  Bin

  Book of TranFor: Momentum will not be deterred. Those from below will protect against impure invasions. The Forgotten Ones will undo those who overlook.

  Merry and Prank made a small hole for Whizzy to see up into the Bin. Sticking his head up into the hole, Whizzy surveyed Thrasher’s Bin. On one side he saw tiny versions of the death dealer assembling purple spiders. Closer to the hole Whizzy saw Bytes lined up to faced the vacuum of the Shredder. Pixals scattered under the vacuum revealing a distraught Nick, pin by the suction.

  Dropping his head down to the tunnel, Whizzy alerted the duo.

  “Merry. Prank. He’s right down there. We need to get him before he’s sucked into the Shredder!” said Whizzy. He scrambled down towards the spot directly under Nick. He pointed the way for the Data Miners.

  Merry and Prank dug furiously to reach Nick. After a small hole was opened, Whizzy stopped them.

  “Step back guys. There are way too many Pixals up there for us,” he said. Whizzy pulled out one the orbs that General Patches gave him. Analyzing the orb, he saw only one button jutting out.

  “Hurry! Hurry!” urged Merry and Prank.

  “This had better work,” said Whizzy as he threw the orb up into the Bin. It rolled away from Nick, stopping near a large pack of Pixals. Ticks went by with nary a reaction. Whizzy looked as nervous as any Byte could.

  “C’mon” he said, wobbling with anticipation. More ticks tocked and nothing happened. Whizzy could hear Nicks screams as he fought the vacuum. Before long Nick would be shredded meat.

  Merry and Prank widened the hole in an attempt to pull Nick down into the tunnel. Nick felt the ground beneath him give way. Next, an invisible pulse went right through him. The wave of energy felt like the deep bass blasting in a nightclub. It gave Nick the feeling of going down a steep rollercoaster. The spiders, affected by some sort of electric charge, collapsed into a pile of inert purple. Nick looked around and noticed the pulse only affected Pixals around him.

  Thrasher stopped as the pulse swept through the Bin. He and the rest of his army turned toward the source in time to see Nick fall through the floor.

  “What isss thisss!” hissed Thrasher, spinning with anger. His red snake tubes flailed in a viper rage. “What weapon can cripple my ssspidersss?”

  Inert insects near Nick fell into the hole with him, leaving a concave exposure beneath the vacuum.

  “10110 001 11011 11!” clicked Thrasher in Analog. Loosely translated, he ordered the unaffected Pixals to go after Nick and bring him back. All available purple insects swarmed toward the sinkhole containing Nick.

  “What just happened?” asked Nick as he brushed himself off. He could still feel the legs of the spiders all over his body. The sensation of phantom spider legs trapping his body took some time to wear off. He looked around the dark hole trying to find his escape. The dimly lit area revealed a large sphere with snake like protrusions on the northern polar region. Is this part of some torture reserved especially for me, Nick thought. Was Thrasher now going to eat him alive instead?

  The wild haired shadow grew larger, getting ever so close. Goosebumps once again return to the back of his neck. Unable to move, gripped with fear, Nick looked up at the menacing shadow. As it approached, the shadow looked more and more like…

  “It can’t be?” Nick said aloud. “Whizzy
?” he asked.

  “None other Tricky boy.” Whizzy replied while wobbling with excitement. His once silver tubes were faded and mottled with orange. They suffered fits and convulsions as he spoke. Whizzy was flanked by what looked like a pair of spinning tops. These creatures had wide circular shapes on top and narrow, sharp points at the bottom. They looked like a menacing duo, capable of boring into anything with ease.

  “Is that…” asked Nick pointing to the Data Miners.

  “Yep,” affirmed Whizzy.

  “Merry and Prank!” Nick exclaimed. He remembered them from the HateAsh. They were Data Miners.

  “Before they wandered off in search of AldAyn, they mined tunnels under NetherWorld. With you headed to the Bin, their tunneling talents were needed. They agreed to help me in the name of AldAyn.”