At the end of the long hallway sat a metal desk and the remains of a rusted chair. One of the legs of the chair had given out, and it leaned against a wall as though tired.
A metal door ahead of him had lost its twin, and the dark space beyond indicated a downward shaft. Spear poked his head inside and held his torch over the pit. The light didn’t touch the bottom. He toed a loose piece of broken graystone, and it fell silently at first before clinking against the sides, and landing in water.
They were all gone.
Turning to his left he noted another door, hanging on its hinges. Pushing, it crumbled inwards, raising more dust. The flames of his makeshift torch flickered, and he considered simply leaving.
He stood for the longest time in the empty room.
“Where have they gone,” he said to himself. He had thought that they would be here. He had remembered the secret code. He had pushed all the symbols in the sequence. Maybe he had forgotten it. Maybe he had misunderstood.
Maybe this wasn’t even where they were supposed to be.
He shook his head; they were all gone. Long dead. They would have been decomposed, hiding in here from the burning light of the blasts outside. The darkness would have taken them. He imagined them fighting for the last of the food, locked inside the tomb they had sealed themselves into. They would have fought and suffered.
He had to find their bodies. He had to know that this was the pipe dream Iris had told him it was. She was right all along, he admitted.
Stepping over the fallen door, he pressed on. He had a promise to fulfill. Even if it meant finding them when they were dead. He had to know that they existed, or he would drive himself crazy for the rest of his life.
The torch lit up the small set of stairs as he descended. There were no other doors on the sides, and it wound back and forth with each turn. He began wondering if it would ever end when he stepped out onto the bottom floor. He knew it was the last floor when he saw the doorway. Its surface rusted and hung like a curtain of rust. Touching it, he ran his hands through it, and the particles collapsed to the floor. With no wind or elements to affect it, the particles had just held together waiting for him to disturb it.
Stepping into the hallway, he could see the vertical shaft to his left. The pool of water sitting in the bottom, almost high enough to begin flooding the floor he now walked on. The walls slumped here and barely held the roof.
Some of the graystone which was used in building the ceiling had collapsed to his right, and he continued down the hallway past small rooms. Symbols carved into metal plates next to each door indicated some long past use or identifier, but he couldn’t understand them.
Similar rotting piles on collapsed shelving seemed to populate the rooms. The originals must have loved sitting as there were metal chairs in each room.
He speculated that maybe they never slept. Maybe they only needed to sit. Perhaps he and his kind were imperfect copies of their Masters, defective from the start. It would account for the aberrant behavior that seemed so systemic in the world above.
At the far end of the hallway sat another desk, and beyond it heavy metal doors. He pushed on them, but they did not move. Putting his shoulder into them flexed the thick rusted bolts on the inside.
It fell inwards, crashing to the ground. Spear's torch below out and reduced to a faint glow of ashes; he waved it back and forth gently fluttering it back to life.
The thick metal door still held together by sheer mass, but now lay on the floor. Rust crackled off of it like caked mud as he stepped across.
Inside the next large room.
To his right, a dust-covered transparent wall stretched a short distance. He touched it and wiped away the grime. It was thick, and clear and seemed unaffected by time. He noted it and felt as though he had once stood on this very spot. He felt as though he was not allowed to go beyond.
A heavy door in the clear wall sat to its left, and the rest of the room was filled with yellowed plastic boxes and crumbling materials.
Stepping up to the door, he pressed on it with his shoulder and made quick work of the hinges. The thick door fell inwards with another loud crash. He mused that if they were sleeping, the originals would surely wake with all the noise, but silence greeted him from beyond.
He held up his torch. The room was occupied by a large cube. Its surface was black silver, and as he walked around it, he realized that this last room had no doors. There were no sleeping areas. Nothing. Just a large black cube.
It was three times as tall as he was, and the same width on all sides.
One side contained symbols and a hinge. A singular locking handle was recessed in the silver metal. Spear inspected the cube.
Everything else was crumbling. The very roof of this tomb was failing; but here was a metal that didn’t rust or age.
Spear knocked his hand on it, testing its properties. Being so close to it made him feel odd, and he stepped back.
Testing it again he stepped in close and within arm's reach, he felt weak. As his head neared the surface of the cube, he felt dizzy, and the room spun.
Spear stepped back, feeling ill and the sensation dissipated almost immediately.
This was the final piece of the puzzle, and it was making him sick. Why had the originals put it down here?
Spear needed to know what was inside. It ate at him. Even if it killed him, he needed to know.
His bent arm reached out and grabbed the latch, his head swam, and he leaned backward taking advantage of vertigo, but his hand held fast. His vision began to blur, and his body was wracked with tremors. It felt like forever, but the latch slowly, ever unhinged. The door, unmoved gave off a burst of vertigo-inducing energy. It passed over Spear, and his head felt as though it was going to explode. He fell backward.
The torch disappeared from his grip as he crashed into the wall. Pure darkness filled the room as the light blotted out against the ground.
He lay in the dark for a moment recovering.
Slowly he began to realize that he was so desperate to find these ghosts of a time past, he had forgotten that he needed to find a way to keep his own people safe.
None of this silly digging in the ruins mattered.
All of this junk was worthless. The originals were all dead. Iris had been right all along.
His good arm scraped the ground in front of him, searching for the pieces of the torch. The flame had extinguished once again. Only red coals lay on the ground, scattered from the wood.
He could easily find his way out by retracing his steps, but knocking something over and having the roof collapse on him was not an idea he relished.
A scraping sound in the dark set his senses on edge.
Panic welled up in him. Were there beasts down here? He grabbed the torch and fanned the small embers, as he turned looking for the teeth and eyes.
His spear was far above, and he cursed himself for having made the decision to bring a torch instead of a weapon.
Waving the red glowing embers, he encouraged the fire back to life with the air. He backed himself into a corner and raised the flickering torch. Leaning down he lit a nearby pile of dry material, and the room leaped into dancing orange light.
Voices, strange and deep murmured from the darkness.
A figure moved in the darkness, and he raised his torch defensively.
A voice called out, fearful and protective.
Spear stepped closer to the shadows; he sought out the source of the noise.
The door had cracked slightly, and a thin ribbon of light crept through. He didn’t like how being near it felt so he kept his distance. The door inched open, and the white interior light began to bathe the room.
Blinking against the brightness Spear peered inwards.
Pink fear covered faces started back at him. They were made like him. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth. Their expressions were recognizable on their soft pink surfaces. Some were taller and shorter; others were wider. They all seemed like variations of the same
type. They were his size and relative shape, but they wore a soft covering and spoke in a way he didn’t recognize.
The tallest among them pushed the shorter units behind him. His masculine face extended an open hand pleading for Spear to stop. The man's face was a mask of fear and confusion. Spear realized that he was still holding the torch like a weapon.
Were these the originals? They seemed so afraid. So small. So soft.
More faces showed themselves as the door swung open and the light filled the room. The female faces gawked at the walls and the state of the room.
He let them step out, and walk around him. One of them extended a hand, and Spear looked at it. The man’s face smiled and nodded. Spear lowered the torch and reached out with his bent arm to grabs the man's hand. It was warm, almost hot, and Spear jumped at the sensation.
The man flinched, and Spear smiled, reaching forward again. The man shook his hand and seemed to ask a question. Spear looked at him quizzically.
“I don’t understand,” he said, and the man's face became confused. He pointed upwards, and Spear realized that the man wanted to know if they could go up.
Spear nodded. “Yes, let's get to the top. It’s dark down here. It’s not safe” The male lifted a device which emitted a white light and smiled widely before turning to his people and waving them to follow. He seemed to know the way, so Spear watched the cluster of pink bodies disembark from the chamber. Had they slept in that tiny room? There was barely enough room for all of them to stand let alone sit or lay down?
Spear had so many questions. He peered into the darkness of the perfect cube, and stepped forward; the ill sensation overtook him, and he stepped backward immediately. He wanted nothing to do with it.
Following the originals, he watched them make cooing noises as they passed the damaged areas. Some of the little ones were wailing in sadness.
He felt as though they were as lost as he was.
They must have been sleeping for so long that they had lost what they had set aside. Nothing that remained of theirs was usable.
As Spear walked, he tried to understand what it must be like to lose everything they ever knew. They had slept through some great destruction, and then everything overgrew. Every grand thing they had ever built was destroyed and in ruins.
Slowly the male beckoned them to ascended the stairs, and he looked back occasionally checking on them. They seemed less worried about him than Spear thought they should be.
Through the hallway they followed, and up towards the door. The circular hole he had cut had long since cooled, and he stepped out into the sunlight tossing the torch to the side, picking his spear up from where he had leaned it against the wall.
The originals each stepped out, one by one looking up at the twilight of the day. The carnage of the burned field, and the still smoking forest fire beyond was likely less concerning that the ashen ground littered with bodies of crazed units.
There were many of them, and they hugged each other in groups, two tall and often some smaller units clustered together, embracing. Worry was on their faces.
Spear suddenly remembered how good that embrace felt. He remembered the Water Carrier and her need to be close to him when they slept in the sleeping box.
Guilt flowed over him; These creatures were afraid. They seemed fearful and worried. Weaker than he had ever imagined. They needed help. More than he could offer.
Waking them was an act of kindness, and one that his memories had needed to fulfill, but he realized, as he watched them step out into the sunlight to explore, that he wouldn’t be getting help from them. Their soft cries and neophyte reactions to this world showed him that they had not been prepared for what they saw. They would not be able to help him defeat his Master or free his people.
Spear watched them cluster, pointing at the carnage of battleground. They walked down and ran their hands over the ruins. The touched their faces and ran their fingers through their hair as they talked. They all but ignored him, engrossed in their grief.
Hope and disappointment mixed in a slurry as Spear considered how much work he had put into finding them only to realize that they would not be able to contribute to his cause.
Chapter 35
That night Spear helped them collect firewood and lay the broken branches in a pile next to the steel door. A few of them wandered out in pairs to collect sticks, fashioning them into clubs and sharpened sticks. He had encouraged this by bringing them the supplies which they had needed. It was doubtful that all of the cannibal units were gone.
Putting down the last load, he sat on the graystone steps under the overhanging lip of the cave. The group was busying themselves with organizing, and the tall male who had been the first to venture out was talking to them in a soothing voice. He stood while they sat looking at him.
Spear could see that hope was growing among them. He didn’t need to speak the language, the expressions on their faces seemed to indicate a rising confidence.
A female stepped out of the doorway he had cut in the metal wall. Two heavy metal boxes were tucked under one arm, and she placed a smoldering torch to the side. Her head swiveled looking for something or someone in the crowd.
Eyes locking on him her face lit up with a smile, and Spear felt Deja Vu once again. She looked familiar somehow, but he could not identify why. Her smile continued as she talked to him in her cooing voice.
It was soothing, and he wished he knew what she was saying. She paused and pointed to the spot next to him with a questioning face. He nodded and patted the ground telling her to sit. She obviously had something to say. The others had crowded around him earlier, inspecting and had been interested, but once they began their preparations for the night, he had become only a minor interest.
She placed her hand on her chest and cooed in her language,”Day-Na.” Pointing at him she waited expectantly. He realized that she wanted to know his name.
Smiling he placed his on hand on his chest, “Spear.”
Da-Na tried to say it, but the soft tones seemed to avoid the sharp pitch of his language. She could not seem to reproduce the inflection. It was to be expected when the originals spoke they seemed to take their time in forming long words to communicate. In time, he would likely find it easier to learn her language than it would be for her to learn his.
Pointing to her, he mimicked her language, “Da-Na.” Extending his right hand she shook it, but held on once the quick motion was over. Her eyes looked up at him sadly as she touched his forearm. It was bent grossly, but it still worked. His wrist articulated, and his fingers grasped.
Standing, she motioned for him to stay before she walked to the edge of the orange light and peered into the darkness. Her slender form disappeared into the night, and Spear stood to follow. It was not safe out there in the darkness.
Before he could pursue, she returned quickly, dragging one of the crushed metal bodies of the defects. They still lay around the field.
The crowd murmured, and some cried out in fear. She smiled and cooed back at them raising a hand, and the noise settled again. Everyone was on edge. She laughed it off, and others in the group laughed nervously as well.
Noticing Spear was standing she beckoned him over to help drag, and together they hauled the carcass to the steps. Once it was laying flat, she opened the metal boxes and withdrew tools. They appeared in perfect condition, and he wondered if it was because they had been in the sleeping box with them. The strange sleeping box below appeared to have saved all of their lives from some past catastrophe, but left them stranded like newly created units, just learning to walk.
After only a few minutes the arm was disassembled at the elbow, and she held it up, pointing to his arm.
Spear smiled, Day-Na was a fixer, like the Witch had been but gentle. Someone who knew how to repair. Excited, he extended his arm, and she looked up at him checking for his expression as she used a tool. She kept an eye on him as she disconnected something inside. His arm became numb, and wrist limp. It fel
t alarming, and for a moment he wondered if he should have allowed her to do that.
A set of tools took only a few careful steps to separate the elbow from the forearm. Setting aside the small components, Day-Na pulled the bent limb from his arm and tossed it to the side. Sliding the donated arm into place, she motioned for him to hold it with his free hand as she began re-assembling the joint. Once she was satisfied, she reached in with a long set of tools, and the feeling returned. It was not as sensitive as his previous arm but all of the joints worked, and the bend was gone.
He smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. Da-Na leaned in and hugged him. It was so familiar, as though they had known each other for their entire lives. Releasing she smiled back and replaced the tools in the box.
Spear watched her stand, look at the crowd, then wave him over towards the fire. He nodded and stood following her. Hesitantly he slowed his approach. The others looked at him smiling. There were small conversations not happening among them. Da-Na patted a spot on the ground next to her, and he flopped down, leaning against the stairs.
He wished the others could feel this. It was like the sleeping box when everyone was crowded in and together. Spear smiled, closing his eyes and gently leaned on Da Na. Someone laughed kindly, and the conversations stopped.
Opening his eyes, he could see happy smiles peering at him from the many different shaped and colored originals. This is where he belonged. This is where they all belonged.
Spear woke the next morning to the warmth of the light and a gentle breeze. Some of the creatures were moving about. Some organic matter was being passed around, and the originals were biting it with their teeth like beasts, closing their mouths and wincing but continuing to chew.
As the female original came around, she offered one to Da-Na who was still next to him. Da-Na shook her head and laughed before screwing her face up.
Spear reached out and picked a few of the smaller green objects out. The female looked at him with surprise and watched with mixed horror as he opened his abdomen and popped them inside. They looked as though they would be a suitable fuel for the day. In the absence of nutrient blocks, he would need something safe and substantial. He pointed to them, then out to the field. The woman, still holding the edges of her shirt to contain the pile of round organic objects, pointed to a group of unburned trees along the margin of the clearing.
Spear's Journey Page 20