The Tau Ceti Transmutation (Amazon)

by Alex P. Berg

  Personally, I tended to avoid the Diraxi whenever possible, and not merely for aesthetic reasons. Even though discussions with them transpired via Brain, there was something unique about Diraxi communications that felt odd. Whenever I received one, it felt as if a presence was lurking in the back of my mind, and not a known bubbly, snarky commodity like Paige, either.

  I love you, too, said Paige.

  I turned my head back to Carl. “So, do you have any other ideas about avenues we can pursue? Because we’re still at square one, here.”

  Carl shrugged. “Not especially, no. That token remains our lone clue.”

  I picked the coin up off the counter and inspected it. Keelok looked much more jovial in the embossed image than he did in real life.

  “You mind if I use this to play a game on that vintage cabinet of yours?” I asked.

  “By all means, please, enjoy,” said Keelok. “You will find it an audiovisual delight—a real sensory experience unlike the Brain, one with grabbing and pressing of sticks and buttons. But should you fail at your endeavors before your hunger is satiated, feel free to return to purchase more tokens. My starving children are depending on your ineptitude.”

  “Thanks.” I walked off toward the ancient device.

  Carl stopped me with a hand before I could get to the machine. “Are you sure you want to do this? That token is our only clue to the identity of the trespasser. If you put it into the arcade cabinet, we’ll lose it.”

  “So? You’ve already inspected it for prints, scratches, and other identifying marks. I’m guessing you also took note of its dimensions, mass, and calculated its density. There’s nothing special about it—which made me think. Perhaps it’s not the token itself that’s the clue. Perhaps the clue is what the token unlocks. Perhaps the clue lies in the game.” I pointed at the cabinet.

  Carl’s eyes widened. “Rich…that’s brilliant! It’s easily the best idea you’ve had all day.”

  I tilted my head and raised a brow.

  “Am I laying it on too thick?” asked Carl.

  I nodded.

  “Well, nonetheless, it is a good thought,” he said. “Let’s give it a try.”

  I stepped up to the antique arcade unit and whipped out the coin. “All right, let’s see. How does this work?” I waved the token at the front of the machine, but nothing happened.

  “I think you’re supposed to insert it into the coin slot—” said Carl.

  “Oh, sounds kinky. I like it.” I moved to do just that.

  “—but that may not be necessary.”

  “What? Why not?” I paused, coin grasped tightly between my fingers.

  “Look at the coin return,” said Carl.

  “The what?” I asked.

  The metal cup-like thing at your knees, said Paige. It’s where tokens would be returned to the customer if the machine encountered a problem.

  I glanced down and found what Carl and Paige were talking about. In it, a dark cloth bundle protruded from the gap. “Is that a—?”

  “Sock. Yes.” Carl reached down and retrieved it. “And not just any sock. It would appear to be the counterpart to one of the mismatched stockings we found in Miss Meeks’ dresser drawer.”

  “Let me see that,” I said, snatching the sock from Carl. “Hmm. You’re right.” I felt the cloth with my fingers. “And it feels as if something’s in there.”

  I dug my free arm into the length of the sock, wrapped my digits around a cool piece of plastic, and pulled out a thin, rectangular intruder. An abstract image that looked something like a neuron superimposed over a beaming, white-hot sun was printed on it.

  “It’s a slip,” I said. “Paige, can you interface with it?”

  You’re sure you want me to do that? she said. Based on the symbolism on the front, I’d wager that’s a Veesnu proselytization card.

  “Veesnu…” I rubbed my chin. “That’s one of the Diraxi religions, right?”

  Correctamundo, Paige said.

  I glanced at Carl. He shrugged.

  “Give it to me anyway, Paige,” I said. “Could be important.”

  Alright, she said. First things first, it tried to upload a Veesnu bible to your Brain. I figured you didn’t want that, so I blocked it. But this you might be interested in.

  A translucent hologram filled my field of vision, one of a shiny Dirax wearing crossing teal and navy sashes over its broad carapace. The alien’s image had been transposed over a vid of a star that burned the same color as the creature’s sash, and organic neuron-like synapses floated in and around both the Dirax and the star, firing intermittently in bright flashes.

  The Dirax made a pincers-out welcoming gesture, but did not speak, given its physical limitations. Instead, a voice in the back of my mind spoke in an eerily reminiscent manner to direct Diraxi communication.

  Welcome, Pilgrim, and thank you for your interest in the One Knowledge, the metaphysical Truth, the conduit to the Ascension—Veesnu. As a benefit to you, we have provided you with a copy of the Veesnu charter, but— The Dirax lifted its pincer hands to the sides as words materialized into the aether. —feel free to use these interactive menus to give you Truth in your search for the Answer, or, visit us at the address below.

  The Dirax disappeared, but a line of text remained at the bottom of the hologram: Cetie Orbital Spaceport, Concourse Gamma, Second Level, C Wing.

  I instructed Paige to make the whole thing disappear.

  “You get that?” I asked Carl, wondering if Paige had copied him on the Brain feed.

  He nodded. “It appears our trail grew warmer. Convenient that our next stop’s also in the spaceport. Should we go?”

  “Just a sec,” I said, glancing at the Funporium token still grasped in my hand.

  “What is it?” said Carl. “You don’t still think there’s an additional clue in the gaming station, do you?”

  “Not really,” I said. “But I’ve got this coin. It’d be a shame to waste it.”

  “Very well,” said Carl as he crossed his arms. “Not like we’re in any particular rush, I suppose.”

  I plunked the coin into the slot, grasped the cabinet’s knobby stick-like input, and spent three harrowing minutes maneuvering my chicken avatar to avoid electrified death eggs that rained down from the sky. Eventually, my reflexes failed me and an egg hit my character square in the face.

  “I feel like that was a rip-off,” I said as the end screen flashed on the monitor.

  “You didn’t even pay for the token,” said Carl.

  “Yeah, but still…fifteen SEUs for three minutes of game play? And that’s not the worst part.”

  “No? What is?” asked Carl.

  “That I kind of want to try again. I could do better.”

  Carl shook his head and grabbed my arm. “Come on. Let’s go before you blow the entire Weed family fortune one token at a time.”

  6

  Despite the lack of writing on the sign, the Veesnu Chapel was easy to spot. A large, projected image of the neuron and sun combination pictured on the slip I’d found in the sock hovered over it. The only confusing part was that another, separate image hovered directly next to the first, and it didn’t jive.

  “Is that a…waffle?” I asked.

  Could be, said Paige. This place is dually marked in the biz listings under ‘places of worship’ and ‘eateries.’ Go figure.

  Carl and I ventured inside, at which point I felt as if I’d stepped into a glitchy Brain experience. On one side of the room lay all the elements I associated with organized religion: padded pews with monitors built into bench backs for the unBrained to follow along, an elevated stage where a pastor could perform, and a muted dark gray backdrop that wouldn’t interfere when Brain effects were overlaid on the real experience. I also spotted projectors and flashers and smoke machines—again to help with the experience for the folks without Brains—all hidden in the rafters under a shield of muted lighting.

  The other side of the room could only be described as
retro casual dining. Booths lined the walls just as barstools lined a white-topped counter at the far end, each seat padded with a glossy layer of cherry-red polymer that played beautifully off the black and white checkered polylaminate flooring. Rich, sticky smells of maple and butter tickled my nose as I perused the gaudy antiques that had been tacked onto the walls, from tires to baby carriages to a small piece of rectangular plastic Paige informed me was something called a ‘phone.’

  The oddest thing about the establishment was how the two spaces fit together, as if someone had chopped two rooms in half and pasted them along an invisible line—an invisible line some inconsiderate jerk had then come along and laid a thin piece of molding over. Probably the flooring inspector.

  A Dirax at the bar spotted us and marched over in its species’ signature choppy shuffle.

  Watch out, said Paige as it approached. Another Veesnu bible tried to upload itself to your Brain the instant we walked in.

  I sent Paige a mental thank you an instant before the Dirax’s communicative slithered its way into my mind.

  Welcome human. Are you here in search of nourishment, Enlightenment, or possibly both?

  I spoke because it felt natural to me, but Paige sent a copy of my speech to the Dirax via Brain. “Um, I’m not sure. I’m not even entirely sure where I am.”

  The Dirax opened its pincer arms. Ah. So enlightenment then.

  “No, you mistake my confusion,” I said. “I meant I don’t entirely understand your choice of branding. What exactly is this place?”

  What stands before you is a temple to the cosmos, a shrine of Understanding, a portal to the comprehension of the Metaphysical, a conduit by which we seek the Knowledge of the Immortals, the One Truth, Veesnu. That, and we serve waffles.

  “Waffles?” I raised an eyebrow.

  Indeed. We find that waffles contain sufficient carbohydrate and fat levels to make them appealing to species of numerous biological makeups. They are a perfect fuel to allow the Knowledge-hungry Pilgrim to absorb the teachings of Veesnu. Also, rents in the spaceport are high, and we must pay to keep the lights on.

  “Gotcha,” I said. “Well, I’m not sure we’re particularly interested in any enlightenment at the moment, but some waffles would certainly hit the spot right about now.” My stomach growled in agreement.

  I do not understand your choice of pronoun, human. Your companion does not appear to require sustenance, and if my assumptions are correct, he is not susceptible to enlightenment, as he has already cheated the cosmos. The Dirax clacked its pincers twice.

  I started to formulate a question in my mind, but Paige stopped me halfway. Don’t ask. It’s complicated. Suffice it to say the Veesnu religion has some pretty strong thoughts about artificial intelligence.

  “Right, waffles for one, then,” I said. “I take them with extra butter and syrup. My partner here will have to sustain himself off the negative energies of prejudice.”

  I don’t think the Dirax got the joke. We only have room at the bar. Given your anatomy, I assume this is acceptable?

  “Of course.” Normally, I would’ve preferred a booth, but given our need to question the Dirax about Valerie’s case, a spot at the bar would serve us swimmingly. We followed the big insect and plopped ourselves onto a pair of the puffy, lipstick-colored stools.

  The Dirax disappeared behind an alcove, and within a minute, it returned with a steaming plate of golden-brown cross-hatched carb bombs drenched in cow fats and a slurry of lab-perfected complex sugars designed to evoke flavors of maple, honey, fruit, and the warmest memories of my childhood.

  I sawed off a piece and plunged it into my mouth, the flavor molecules exploding as they contacted my tongue.

  Carl looked at me longingly. “See, there’s another experience I sometimes envy you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said around a mouthful of hot buttered bliss. “You can taste things.”

  “Yes, but then I’d either have to suffer the indignity of spitting out my food or empty my catch container, which is a pain to service. Either way I’d have to clean my mouth afterwards.”

  “You sure are surly today,” I said.

  “Maybe that firmware upgrade I got is malfunctioning, after all,” said Carl.

  I tilted my head as I stuffed another slice of waffle in my mouth. “Won’t work this time, old pal. Now I know you’re joshing me.”

  The Dirax loomed over us on the other side of the counter. Is there anything else I can provide you with? Perhaps a lecture on the interwoven nature of organic and cosmic systems, and how an acceptance of Veesnu can bring peace to the neural systems that dictate your actions?

  I swallowed and lifted a finger. “Not that, no, but we do have a couple questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

  The Dirax twitched its antennae. Such as?

  “We’re looking for someone.”

  Who?

  “I don’t know.”

  Can you provide a description?

  “Not really.”

  What about a digital imprint of their neural pathways?

  “Huh? No, definitely not.”

  The Dirax clacked its pincers again. I am confused.

  I sighed. “You’re not the only one, brother. We don’t know exactly who we’re looking for, but they left us a clue leading back to your establishment. A slip.” I pulled out the card we’d liberated from the sock at Keelok’s and showed it to the Dirax.

  Ah. Yes. We give these to all individuals who enter our doors. I was going to provide you with one at the conclusion of your meal.

  “Could you take a closer look at this one in particular?” I asked. “Maybe there’s something special about it.”

  I do not understand your query. What could be more special than the One Knowledge, the metaphysical Truth, the combined teachings of Veesnu, concentrated onto a small, portable slip?

  I frowned as I glanced at Carl. “Why is it aliens have issues understanding the meaning of that word? No, that’s not what I meant, Mr….?”

  Names are not a convention of our species.

  “Um…right then,” I said. “What I was wondering was if you noticed any features that distinguished this particular slip from others you’ve distributed.”

  The Dirax’s antennae twitched. I do not know who I provided this slip to, if that is the crux of your query.

  I rapped the knuckles of my right hand onto the palm of my left. “Argh. How are we supposed to track someone down when we have no name, physical description, or identifying qualities whatsoever?”

  “Patience, Rich,” said Carl. “This is the sort of work your profession entails. It’s par for the course, I believe.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “All the old P.I. novels I read that got me interested in this gig had a lot more action and a lot less head scratching—though roughly the same number of attractive women. I guess I should be glad we haven’t encountered any cats yet, right?”

  Carl nodded before turning to the Dirax, who apparently didn’t possess the same facial agility we did otherwise it would’ve looked extremely confused. “One more question for you, if you don’t mind. Did a patron of yours happen to lose a sock here in the past couple days, by chance?”

  Socks are the tubular coverings your species places over its extremities for warmth?

  “Correct,” said Carl.

  I am unsure. Perhaps. We do have a small lost and found in back. You should check with my broodmate. The Dirax pointed to a slim door behind the pulpit in the chapel half of the room.

  “Good thinking, Carl,” I said. “And thanks for the help, bud.”

  It is my pleasure to assist all Pilgrims, human. But I would be remiss not to express again the wonders of the One Truth, the ultimate Knowledge, Veesnu. The wonders of the cosmos await. Verily—

  I crammed the last of the waffles in my mouth and stood, pointing at my full mouth and making hand gestures I hoped would translate somewhere along the lines of ‘can’t talk, busy eating,’ negl
ecting the obvious fact that I could communicate with the Dirax solely via Brain instead of speaking. It might’ve been a crude exit, but it got me to the back door without having to endure any more of the restaurateur’s pushy sermons.

  7

  We found the second Dirax at a standing desk in the back, surrounded by sacks of flour, stacks of empty egg cartons, and boxes upon boxes full of Veesnu proselytization slips. I almost did a double take when I saw the guy. I thought my buddy the waffle artist from in front had scurried around and beat us to the punch, but Paige quickly quashed my theory that the guy was a closet schizophrenic.

  Just because you can’t tell the differences between them doesn’t mean they’re the same individual, she said. This one’s scutellum is markedly more pronounced than that of the Dirax you previously met, as is its petiole, and the funiculi on its antennae are more bumpy and textured to boot.

  I kindly informed Paige that I had no clue what the hell she was talking about.

  Bah, she said. You couldn’t tell the difference between a piebald mare and a tan gelding.

  Not wanting to admit that I didn’t know what those were either, I cleared my throat as we approached the Dirax and its hard, glossy shell. The large, insectoid creature declined to turn to greet us.

  You appear to be lost, the Dirax voice sounded in my mind. The restroom is located in the front.

  “What? No, I’m not here for that.” I glanced at Carl. “Why does everyone assume I’m looking for a bathroom?”

  The Dirax turned. Pardon, human, but from my knowledge of the physiology of your kind, I was led to believe a harsh expelling of gas such as you exhibited was a sign of gastrointestinal distress.

  “Huh?” I said. “Oh, no, I was clearing my throat. It’s an expression we use to attract attention. The action you’re thinking of comes from a…different orifice.”

  Ah. My apologies. The Dirax crossed its pincer arms. Nonetheless, the spiritual and gustatory experiences we offer take place in the front of our establishment.