And I found myself with little to do but enjoy the show, as boring as it was. It literally was like watching someone chop up bloodless vegitables, with all the thrills and chills such an endeavor garnered. I hadn’t wanted an epic brawl and tense shootout to have occurred here, with Boudicca covered in blood and me down to my last bullet as I had to choose whether to kill one of her attackers or put one in her skull and end her misery, but I had expected exactly such a showdown. Such spectacles had become the norm in my life, it seemed, but nothing of the sort was occurring now.
And then, mere minutes after it had started, everything seemed to be over. Boudicca had stopped her forward progress and had posted herself up against a wall with an open entranceway that would lead her inside. She took a moment to peek inside, inspecting its interior, before turning to look in the general direction of my position and waved her arm, indicating I should advance. I nodded to myself, but before I pulled away from my scope, I couldn’t help but see Boudicca enter the structure on her own.
That hadn’t been the plan. Her job had been to secure the perimeter and then wait for me to join her before the two of us entered the structure together. It had been a simple plan, a safe plan, and a goddamned logical plan, but now she’d decided to go John Rambo on me and infiltrate the base alone. I couldn’t imagine why someone with such astute battle acumen would do something so stupid.
Now I would have to waste time searching for her before I could devote my attention to the base itself. I’d have to spend hours patrolling the corridors and clearing rooms alone, time that would simply go on and on and on...
“Don’t worry, Jacob,” a familiar voice from behind me said. “It won’t take nearly as long as you think.”
“Huh?” I mumbled as I turned around, not immediately panicked as the voice was one I thought I’d heard many times before.
I found its source immediately as a tall figure loomed over me, holding the same kind of wooden staff the guards below carried. I squinted, trying to make out features, when I was reminded that I had no other friends here besides Boudicca, making this individual an enemy. I went for my sidearm as quickly as I could, but time seemed to literally slow for me as my hand fell to my thigh. In the time it took for my hand to reach my pistol, the large figure leaned closer, and I could see a frown form on thin lips no longer hidden beneath his cloaked hood.
“I do apologize for this,” the voice said, sounding distinctly masculine now, with no sense of distortion even though my hand was still only half way to my pistol, “but at least this one won’t actually count.”
Count for what? What was he…
And then the staff in his hands was flying through the air rapidly, undistorted by the sluggishness I was experiencing, impacting my skull at about the time my fingers finally brushed the hard rubber of my pistol grip. The penetrating darkness of unconsciousness didn’t set in immediately, as it usually did, perhaps because I was moving so slow, and I had just enough time to realize that I’d been knocked unconscious nine times since arriving in Ancient Rome, and wondered if I’d get a free sandwich with my tenth…
***
Perhaps the man had been right.
That is, if he was referring to whether or not this particular visit to the land of unconsciousness would count or not. It seemed like a rational assumption, because unlike all the other times I’d been violently thrust into cognitive oblivion, it didn’t, quite simply, hurt this time. I’d developed a rather nasty habit of finding myself rendered unconscious recently, usually through my own lack of preparation or delusions of grandeur, and it was really time to stop.
But for now, I was thrilled by the fact that nothing hurt, although I was still in the dark concerning what was happening to me – quite literally as my eyes were still closed. I was able to discern, however, that I had been placed upright on a none too comfortable chair and that there was even a cool breeze blowing across my face, a welcome feeling after all that time spent in the unbearable heat surrounding the volcano. The air also smelt…
“You think too much, Jacob Hunter,” a voice said from in front of me. “You always have and, most likely, you always will. I certainly will not miss your endless musings once all has been completed, and I do not believe I will be the only one. Now, open your eyes and let’s get on with this.”
For a moment I considered keeping them closed, just to thwart this anonymous jackass and his tasteless sense of humor, but his comment felt familiar somehow. His tone, the manner in which he spoke, and most tellingly, the awareness and predictive nature behind his comment reminded me of Merlin and the nature of our interchange in his cottage.
In fact, I now realized that the man’s voice itself reminded me of Merlin’s.
So before he could comment on how there was no need to challenge him, as I was sure he was about to do, I opened my eyes. I expected there would be a few seconds of fuzzy vision, time that my eyes would need to adjust to my new surroundings, but no such time was required. My eyes opened and I could see, and like the lack of pain from my earlier bout with “unconsciousness”, neither too did I feel groggy or unfocused.
I could see.
I could see more than I ever thought possible.
For the fourth time today.
I was in a room, but not like any room I’d been in since arriving in Ancient Rome. Nor, thank God, was it my old restaurant, the one that Merlin had had such a fun time torturing me in. I’d never been in a place like this, but I’d seen reasonable equivalents back home countless times. It appeared very much like a NASA control center, the same kind that had been burned into the minds of many an American through a once great cultural fixation with space travel, and later through countless movies, television programs, and the occasional news segment when something interesting happened in space.
Except, despite the numerous consoles and work stations, displays on the walls and even the ceiling – each of which displayed relevant information that was altogether irrelevant to me as I couldn’t understand any of it – the control room was also completely foreign in appearance. It was enormous, and none of it appeared manmade – not that it appeared non-human, but that it was unlike anything I’d seen back home. The technology seemed familiar: computers, digital screens, buttons, lights, toggles, switches, joysticks, and the like, but everything here also looked so… different. I couldn’t quite tell how exactly, at first, but then I realized that it all seemed just a bit beyond the reach of what my society had been capable of, like something out of the weirdest science fiction from Japan or something. It all looked about a hundred years too advanced, and designed by someone with an odd affixation with melding technology with organics, as much of the technology around me looked almost lifelike instead of inert, artificial machines. The console beside me, in fact, was covered in a thick, slimy mucus that…
“That’s enough,” the same voice, now somehow behind me, said.
I spun out of my chair, my danger sense finally kicking in, and ducked behind it. I looked up and peeked over the rim of the basic, four legged chair, not the rolling, swiveling kind I expected in this place, and caught sight of an old man with a gray beard that seemed to come down to his knees. My first thought was that it was Merlin, but someth…
“Enough, Mr. Hunter,” he said, his voice far stronger than I expected from his frail appearance. I squinted at him, trying to discern whatever features I could, but besides his beard and dirty robes, he was a mystery. I couldn’t see his face as he shook his head and dropped it toward the floor in annoyance. “I can already see that this will be most taxing.”
I risked a simple question, ducking behind my chair again. “What will be?”
He picked up his head. “This dialogue, Mr. Hunter. You cannot comprehend how tiring it is to read the thoughts of a man whose inner monologues goes on and on as yours do. Were there a way to avoid this form of communication, I would be most eager to utilize it, but as you cannot peer into my mind as I can yours, it seems we must settle for… talking.”<
br />
His latest words brought on another thought. “In English, apparently…”
He nodded, almost respectfully. “Your deductive abilities are beyond astounding, Mr. Hunter.”
“Don’t call me…”
He threw his head back in annoyance as he spoke. “Yes, yes, I apologize. The only ‘Mister’ Hunter in your life was your father. Tell me, what were you going to do when it was time for you to teach children? Scold them every time they wished to gain your attention?”
I worked my jaw in annoyance, beginning to wonder if this wasn’t actually Merlin again. “I would have gotten used to it.”
The old man gripped the back of a nearby chair and leaned in toward me. “I’m sure.” He leaned in closer. “And allow me to assure you that I am not, in fact, Merlin.”
I rose to my feet and brushed myself off, still amazed at how good I felt. It felt as though I’d been given a new body, one that hadn’t come with all the aches and pains and discomforts I’d picked up in thirty odd years. Nor could I feel the emotional pull of the blue orb. The red orb must have been nearby, but I figured I’d learn more about that soon enough.
“A safe assumption, Mr. Hunter.”
I cracked my neck to the side, reigning my frustration in to a nominal level, not having enjoyed Merlin’s little parlor trick of reading my mind either. “If you’re not Merlin, then who are you.”
“Oh, Jacob…” he said, his voice almost jovial. “You have the whole world as your stage, and all its individuals as your audience, and yet you will bore them with more of your roundabout, oblique thoughts that take forever to arrive at a conclusion. For all our sakes, do not do that now. Why the need to question? You already know who I am, as do many of them, I am sure. So out with it, Mr. Hunter. Let’s keep this chapter short.”
I folded my arms across my chest and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“You try my patience,” the old man said. “Clever that you will not waste their time with pointless thoughts, but still manage to waste my own. I never said you weren’t sharp, but, please, let us not stall any longer.”
So I didn’t…
VIII
Remus
Date: Unknown
Place: Unknown
Jacob Hunter
“Excellent,” the man claiming to be Remus said. “Although, I never claimed any such thing. You deduced my identity on your own, a rather simple deduction were one to be honest, as who else would be here?”
I shrugged. “I almost expected some alternate version of Merlin, honestly.”
“A fair expectation, but, alas, our old wizard friend is far from here, if he even still exists at all.”
I didn’t bother with that one, but raised a questioning hand anyway. “How is it that you exist at all? You should be seven hundred years old.”
He almost smiled. “Or about.”
I shook my head, my inability to grasp anything about these people continuing to frustrate the hell out of me. “Just who the hell are you people? Twins suckled by a wolf? A raving lunatic of a wizard? The… ‘Old God’? I mean, who the hell was that? Who?!”
Remus didn’t respond, his emaciated face reverting to its original deadpan. Instead, he turned and left my view. He’d been a few dozen levels above me in the control room, so I quickly bounded up the stairs to follow, almost slipping on the last, slime-covered step. Reaching the main level, I found it empty, but there weren’t many places he could go. The room may have been cavernous, but it was open and its tiered design allowed me to see its entirety. The only place he could have gone was through a set of large double doors, ones that had a literal and contemporary “EXIT” sign above them. I shuffled toward it and glanced at the sign before pushing through the doors. While it was positioned and colored exactly like every other sign of similar design, the letters were different. Written in a font I certainly didn’t recognize, I simply accepted it as the font of the future and pushed open the doors, finding myself in a long hallway. It was no different than any other monotonous, gray hallway found in any office building, just a long, dull corridor with doors scattered sporadically along either side. I moved to the first such door and went for the doorknob. It was locked, more than that, the knob didn’t even jiggle in my grasp. The entire door felt as though it were decorative only, not serving any actual function, just an extension of the hallway itself.
I looked back down the hall, noticing this time that there was a light at the end of it. Cautiously, I stepped toward it, finally realizing that while my combat shirt had inexplicably returned to my body, I had lost all of my gear and weaponry. When I reached an intersection that was illuminated more brightly than the rest of the hallway, I turned left solely because it too had better lighting than the hall to the right. So bright, in fact, that I had to throw up a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding white light that came from its far end. It was intense, slamming into me with an almost physical effect, and I had to take a step backward in response
My eyes adjusted slowly but I pushed on, even with my vision impaired. Although my attention was directed forward, I couldn’t help but notice that the walls, floor, and ceiling were slowly dissolving as I walked. Like a transition in a dream, where one physical scene was replaced with another through a completely illogical sequence of events belying geography, physics, and common sense, with my next few steps, the hallway completely vanished, replaced instead with the outside world. I had been deposited onto a large terrace shaped like a semicircle that was attached to the side of the volcano and was situated high along its steep slope. Remus was standing at the apex of the semicircle, maybe thirty steps from where I stood now.
I whirled around, searching for an exit, but found only a closed door that appeared like something out of a Shakespearean stage play in terms of function and style. It was opulent in presentation, as was the entire wall behind me, appearing much like the façade of a Venetian waterway palace in its prime. But like the door I’d attempted to enter earlier, this door failed to fulfill its primary function when I tried to open it as well.
I turned back to Remus, who seemed completely oblivious to my presence, and crept toward him silently. I’d only taken a handful of steps before his head rotated to the left, just enough for me to see the tip of his nose and lips.
“No need for skullduggery, Mr. Hunter. Your presence has never left my awareness. Please, step beside me.”
I straightened and snarled at no one in particular, but did as I was told and approached the waist-high railing that surrounded the terrace overlooking the desolate landscape I had just crossed with Boudicca. I stepped up to it and placed my hands upon its alabaster rails – how I knew it was supposed to be alabaster, I didn’t know, but still I knew.
Remus turned to me. “You know, because in this world, you know everything.”
I gritted my teeth angrily at his words, and I felt saliva pooling in my cheeks. I swallowed it down, and used that anger to speak. “Who…” I barely managed even that, but I forced myself to focus. “Who. The hell. Are you?”
He never answered.
That was it. That was enough. I wasn’t going to be patronized or belittled or confused any longer by this man, or any other man like him, again. I balled up my fist and felt it tremble with anger, rocket fuel for the right hook that flew straight for his head. I put everything I had behind the punch, one that should have connected with enough force to pitch Remus over the edge of the terrace, but when it reached his jaw, my fist simply passed through his head as though it wasn’t even there at all.
I stumbled, off balance, but managed to catch myself before I threw myself over the railing.
“Figures…” I mumbled as I straightened.
“Come now, you didn’t actually expect that to work.”
“Expected?” I asked, frowning. “Not exactly. But I’d hoped.”
“Hope is not a sentiment you hold in much supply, Jacob.”
“Yeah, I got that,”
I mumbled.
“Good,” Remus replied before turning his frail frame so that he faced me, leaning his hip against the railing. “Now, your questions, please. Merlin gave you the same opportunity; so too shall I.”
“Who are you?”
“Answered.”
“What are you?”
“Ah, a better question, but one better answered later.”
Either Remus was actually worse than Merlin or he was acting this way to purposefully annoy me. The smile he showed me as I formulated this thought confirmed my suspicions.
I glanced around before asking my next question. “Where’s Boudicca?”
“She has been dealt with. Do not concern yourself with her.”
I frowned. “Dead?”
“Dealt with, Mr. Hunter. Move on before I grow impatient.”
Thinking, I looked to the sky, seeing again the black holes and the odd pricks of light scattered among them that appeared bigger than simple, distant stars. To my right was the volcano, and I took a second to admire the flow of lava down its steep side not a few dozen meters away.
“Where are we?” I asked. “Exactly.”
Remus smiled his first legitimate smile since I’d arrived. “The Source.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Of what?”
“Of everything, Mr. Hunter. Everything! It is not simply a source of something. It is, in name, The Source. This entire world, this entire solar system, was engineered to be The Source.”
I rubbed my jaw with a hand. “I don’t follow.”
Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome Page 24