Deep Yellow

by Stuart Dodds

  Brell started pressing buttons, reminding herself about the language they were using. It became easier just to type in parts of clue words and the holo world locations.

  “Can I at least have a drink?”

  Meren ordered a hot coffee milk drink and plonked in front of Brell. She took a sip and curled her lip at Meren. Back to the screen.

  “Well, each of the worlds has an obelisk of sorts, a reference to a King, a tower, and une chemise, need to look that up.” Brell said.

  “What’s best? Start in this place and work our way into the other locations?” Meren said.

  “I wouldn’t put it past Williams pulling some tricks like altering the countdown or sending in someone to chase us. Let’s go through it again. The obelisk.”

  Brell worked away, bringing up images, text, and historical reference materials.

  “Okay. Here, most of them have an obelisk of sorts. Washington, Paris, copy of one in Las Vegas, Bangkok, all of them. The fancy tall building here in San Francisco is sometimes called an obelisk. Paris has an obelisk from ancient times whilst the one in Washington is very tall, but not as old.”

  “Let’s look at King. There are people with that name, like Martin, or they had a king as a ruler, like Paris with Louie. Bangkok also has a monarchy. Moscow shot theirs. There is a tower here in San Francisco, it’s on top of a hill, saw it from the bridge. All places have large metal towers of one sort or another. The clue is open to interpretation. I think.”

  Meren sat and watched Brell’s screen, the images not making not making much sense to her. Stopping for a moment, Brell held her fingers above the keyboard and stared at the wall.

  “Okay?” Meren said.

  “There is something I am trying to remember, but can’t connect with it. Perhaps I need more whisky.”

  “So, Paris has the oldest obelisk and tower, and they had a king,” Meren said, moving the subject off intox.

  “Hold on.” Brell drained her coffee drink. “The theme involves prisons and executions, right? Williams loves that angle, doesn’t he? Well, Paris had a large prison where they interred people, including the king and queen, before taking them off for execution by beheading. The site would be near where an obelisk is now. They also have a unique large metal tower. Rome, The Tower, Paris, all places of Inhab-47 history. Blood and gore. Death. Murderers. Us!” Brell rubbed her chin continuing with her thoughts.

  “It fits in with all the other challenges. We should go there first. Une chemise must be a clue to the exit. It is from a language used in Paris. It means, got it, this is so slow, here we are, it means a shirt, one shirt. There are shirt sellers near the tower and cafes.”

  Brell used an image manipulator to zoom images of the big metal tower, becoming used to the basic nature of the programming.

  “Well, it looks like the clue points there. What other choice do we have?” Meren said.

  “None. Time for a whisky.” Brell said lowering her voice, and sauntering over to the auto chef. Meren just shook her head.

  The auto chef went into action and Brell took a swift glug.

  “Lovely. It’s good for me, medicinal.” Brell said, glancing out of the window. “Of course we keep saying we, Meren. How is this going to end?”

  She stared at Meren, who looked down.

  “It’s the part that I didn’t want to think about. I mean, are you going to hit me or something and run off? Or should I go away?” Meren said.

  “Well, you’re good at hitting people, so I should watch out for you.”

  Meren stared across the room, making no reply.

  “Did you see anything, clue-wise, before seeing me in the vehicle?” Brell said, wiping her nose and changing the subject.

  “No. I walked down the pier. Carac started chasing me into a building, but I ran out through an exit door.” She laughed. “Then I hid in the crowd amongst some bald-headed revellers.”

  “Look, for a bald-headed nun supposedly just meditating all day long, you don’t do too badly for yourself.”

  Meren smiled, reached over, and held Brell’s hand.

  “I cannot explain everything. It has all been a rush, like going from silence to loud 3D music. Touching was not allowed in the Sanctuary. Some older nuns would put an arm on my shoulder when no one was looking, but holding a hand like this would have meant a penalty, like no afternoon sewing circle.” Meren maintained eye contact. “I am glad to have spent some time with you.” She let Brell’s hand go.

  “Two things. That’s the most you’ve said in one go, and sewing circle?”

  “Yes, the sewing circle was where I could gossip for an hour.”

  Meren stopped talking and started laughing, her shoulders lifting. Brell briefly touched Meren’s arm and smiled. She then took another swig of whisky. Meren went over to the window and bent down to see the countdown timer.

  “Look, we both don’t want Carac to win, so how about we get to Paris, find the key, take it from there and enjoy ourselves, if that is possible?” Brell said, holding the cup near to her lips.

  “Okay.” Meren said. She ran a hand over her smooth head.

  “We need a plan and another whisky,” Brell said, then nodded. “Clothes change for a start, put Carac off the scent. Then travel separately to the pier, over the bridge and to the prison. Carac will probably be waiting for us by the bridge. Get to the Living Room, and then through the Paris door. If we lose each other, meet up at the large metal tower. How’s that?”

  “As long as I can drive,” Meren said. Brell laughed.

  “Right. Clothes first.” Brell emptied her glass and walked towards the door with a slight wobble in her stride.

  “Let’s have a looky outside. Shh.” She held her fingers to her lips. Opening the door a fraction, she glanced up and down the corridor. Some couples were walking past.

  “No. Soft holo. No. Not wearing that. Yes, here we are, come on Meren.”

  Meren reluctantly followed Brell out into the corridor. A male and female walked towards them. Both were casually dressed in a similar style to that of many Inhab-47 people.

  “Hi, hey, you two. Where is your room?”

  The two holos stopped. Brell touched the lapel of the man’s jacket; it was made of real cloth.

  “Room 222,” the female holo said.

  “We need your clothes.”

  “Room 222,” she said again.

  Brell grabbed the male by the back of his arm and pushed him towards the room. Meren did the same with the female, but clearly appeared uncomfortable.

  “They are only hard holos,” Brell said over her shoulder as she pushed the male into the room.

  “Yes, but they are image copies of real people.”

  “Hey, we are hours from becoming ash and you’re worried about hurting a holo.”

  Meren shut and bolted the door. The two holos stood silently in the middle of the room.

  “Probably on some predefined loop, so in a while they may start trying to walk out of here back onto their path. Get their clothes off.”

  Brell started stripping the man. Starting with his jacket, tie, shirt, and then the trousers.

  “It’s a long time since I have done this for real,” Brell said, smiling.

  Meren gingerly took off the female’s blouse. The two holos continued to stand, unmoving, staring ahead.

  Brell pulled his trousers down, revealing his legs. She tapped one of them and it made a plastic, hollow noise.

  “See, not real, just a type of plastic.”

  Brell giggled and laughed even more as she saw Meren pulling the females dress down. Soon both holos were just standing in their underpants.

  “Think they will fit?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Brell whipped off her clothes, stood in her underwear for a while then put on the shirt, jacket, and trousers.

  “Not bad,” Meren said “pull the belt in a bit.”

  Meren put on the blouse and knee length skirt.

  “Wow what a differen
ce Meren. You’ve got legs. When was the last time you dressed like that?”

  “Before Jayzan initiation,” Meren said slowly. She wiped around her eyes with her fingers. “Long time ago.”

  “You need a hat. The bald head is a little, you know.”

  “Not Inhab-47 enough?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Blue skin?” Meren said.

  “Well spotted,” Brell said.

  Meren continued to look at herself in the mirror, whilst Brell got another whisky in celebration of the clothing change.

  “Room 222,” The female holo said and started walking towards the door.

  “Hang on,” Brell said, “I’ve got an idea.” A slight slur in her words.

  Chapter 44 - Courage

  Carac tried his best with the basic computer, but the screen was small, the images grainy, and he his eyes were squinting. He had found a small cafe with a good view of the bridge and some research computers. After pushing and pulling the tables around, he sat down to read the screens whilst keeping a lookout. Having ordered plain water and a small clear intox chaser, he settled himself down.

  He slowly typed in the clue words and world names, copying the words directly from the written clue. Frustratingly, various images and references were displayed that could relate to all the worlds. An image search showed some alien men wearing plain shirts. There was a tower in San Francisco though, and a man named King. What if the real key was there and Brell had it already in her pocket? He could not rationalise that. The influence of the Tinker would not let that happen, surely.

  Perhaps something to eat? See if the auto chef could create some proper food. There were some food images on the walls.

  “Beef burger.” The auto chef chugged away. Carac bit into the burger and threw the plate across the room.

  “What is this crap?”

  He tried again. “Vegetables, cooked lightly. Milk flavoured drink.”

  Bit better, he mused whilst munching on a carrot. He thought back to those times in prison when he could obtain fine meals and wines. Having finished most of the meal and the milk drink, he tossed the plate over at some holos sitting at another table.

  “Hello,” one of them said, their face briefly smiling before going back to eating their meal. Carac grabbed the holo and threw it to the ground. Using his feet and hands, he tugged the sweatshirt over its head and put it on. At least it would detract the eye from the prison uniform, for the time being. What the wording, “Alcatraz, Swim Team” on the front referred to, he neither knew nor cared.

  Glancing out the window, he considered his options. Check out the San Francisco tower himself in one of those transporters or wait for Brell, the nun, or the Tinker? He bent his head and glanced up at the timer.

  ***

  Should we send security bots to the hotel? The Twins had asked.

  Will put them in standby mode. Carac may make a move soon. Will hold back and follow his actions for now.

  Technician 22 returned to his attempts at finding the key locations. Williams must have used a scanner shield. The viewer’s data zaps were useful, and it became evident that Paris was becoming the popular choice, with Moscow at the bottom. He concentrated on Paris.

  ***

  “You don’t get it Meren, it gives me courage and makes me forget.”

  “Forget what? You’ve been in prison long enough to forget everything.”

  “You may be able to put things out of your mind with your meditation and fancy-dancy religion. Everything’s perfect in your world.”

  “You are losing control. No one is going to come down, stop the challenge and take you back home to a nice quiet life. This is it, unless we do something, we will die here.” Meren said, slightly raising her voice.

  “Sound like my mother. At least I’ll go out having fun, by myself, not stuck in some cell. I was going to take termination next year anyway. May as well go out on my terms. My terms,” Brell said, wiping tear streaks from her face with her left hand whilst sipping whisky from a cup in her right.

  “Is this is how you want to end it all? Being drunk?”

  Brell pointed her finger towards Meren, stumbled forward, tripped over her own feet, and fell on the floor in a heap. Slowly, she got onto her knees and crawled along the floor. After a couple of attempts, she managed to stand up, heavily supporting herself on the edge of the kitchenette counter.

  Meren paced around the room, rubbing her chin.

  “I will go to this Paris place, find the key, and when you are sober follow me there. Meet at the large metal tower.”

  Brell’s hand lost its grip, and she slowly slid her back down the side of the cupboard. As she sat on the floor, the tears came. She wiped her nose and face on her sleeve.

  “Meren, I’m useless to you. I’m a no good drunk and substance abuser, to be exact. Intox and Deep, now there’s a mix. I can’t go with you, at the moment, let me sleep here a while, I’ll follow you.” She hung her head, then looked up. ”Sewing circle! Ha, ha.” She laughed and cried at the same time.

  Meren stood over her, hands on hips.

  “Come on, Brell, still time for you to sober up. Come and find me in Paris, we will do the exit together. Never know, Williams may have a soft spot for us.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you must go. I am no help to you now. One of us must get through. Beat that fragger Carac.” Brell moved her hands, emphasising each word. “Will you do that for me?” She turned towards Meren.

  “For you, Brell, yes.” Meren ordered a coffee from the autochef and put it next to Brell’s hand.

  “Now, go. Go. Give them hell,” Brell said.

  Meren bent down, put her hand on Brell’s shoulder, and kissed the top of her head. She had run out of things to say.

  “Love you,” Brell said softly.

  Meren turned around. Brell continued to look at her, eyes red, blue skin flushed, but smiling.

  “Love you,” Meren said as she placed her palms together and bowed. With that, she left the room. Brell hung her head.

  ***

  As Meren slid into the seat of a transporter, she didn’t want to think of Brell vulnerable and drunk up in the room. As they agreed, she would go to Paris, find the key, and wait.

  Meren put her foot down and accelerated away, steadily driving in the direction of the pier. She had picked a larger transporter, one used for carrying a small group of people. Blue in colour, with windows all the way around and a large circular symbol on its side. She picked up a ring of flowers, left on the passenger seat, and put them on her head. Checking what her head covering looked like in the rear view mirror, she pressed a button on the console, and Inhab-47 music started playing.

  The light, happy music was certainly different from the Jayzan flute and reed ensembles. The song was something about letting people go to San Francisco. A large passenger vehicle trundled down the middle of the road, people were walking around smiling, and the sun shone. Turning up the volume, she rested her arm on the window edge and was seventeen again.

  ***

  Carac became increasingly restless and frustrated in his attempts to solve the clue. The risk of going into the wrong world and not being able to leave it again was too great. He inhaled the sea air whilst walking up and down the pier. The countdown continued silently overhead like a heavy weight pressing on his chest. The nearby tower, which he had previously seen up the hill from the main road, could have been checked by now.

  The magician continued with his act, Carac had lost count of how many times he had heard “Abracadabra.” He felt like punching the man, holo or whatever it was.

  What the fraggle daggle. Must be kidding. Meren was trying to skulk up the pier. The ring of flowers perched on her head was not the best type of disguise, plus there wasn’t that many bald-headed women wearing a skirt and blouse. The way she moved was graceful, elegant, and different from others. He jumped on the stage and stood by the magician, trying not to listen to the act. It provided good cover as Meren continued to walk slow
ly along past his position. He quickly thought of his options: attack, torture, follow, or ignore. Attack and torture would be the approach he would prefer in this no-rules world, but following might be more productive. He jumped lightly off the stage and followed behind her.

  Meren’s attempts at trying to stay incognito were not the work of a stealthy thief. She had reached the bridge by trying to blend in with people walking back and forth. Carac followed discretely by also using the groups of people. However, when she reached the prison, he knew he had to make a move. She must have a location in mind, but which one? Could he take that chance?

  Having not received any clues, that he had noticed, anyway, he changed tack. As Meren walked lightly through the cellblock corridor, he quickly approached her from behind and placed an arm around the front of her neck. She attempted a back kick into his shins whilst pulling at his arm. Carac just laughed.

  “Okay where are you going, where is the key?”

  She continued to struggle and tried to bite his arm. Quickly pulling her sideways, he shunted her into an open cell, throwing her on the bed, blocking the cell entrance.

  “Where?” He held the cell bars whilst standing in the entrance.

  “Bangkok,” Meren said, thinking fast.

  “Too quick a reply. Where?”

  “If you let me up, I’ll show you.”

  “Where’s the blue bitch?”

  “Drunk. She probably won’t wake up before the end.”

  “So it’s just you and me, then?”

  Meren made no reply.

  He tipped his head backwards and glanced along the cell corridor. Empty. Taking a breath, he stared into the distance and exhaled noisily.

  “You’re not going to start fighting now, are you?”

  Meren shifted back on the hard bed until squashed up against the wall. Carac approached her, and as he bent down, she kicked out with her feet, hitting the tops of his legs. Carac started laughing, scooped her legs aside, and slapped her across the face. He then leant in towards her.

  “A nun, a new experience, I suppose. Now, where is the key?” he said quietly in her ear.