by Kir Lukovkin
“Your Mausists decided to catch us, and they have come down here,” Rick replied. “Time to make ourselves scarce.”
“But aren't we going to help White Worm's people?” Paul asked.
“Go,” the old man commanded harshly. “You must reach your destination!”
“What about the people?” Paul exclaimed. “They won't be able to defeat them!”
“Are you so sure?” The old man stood up and held his stick tighter.
Paul could not think of anything to say.
“Book of Faces, are you with us?” Rick asked. “Will you fight or run?”
The old man glanced at him ironically.
“I will accept my end.”
“Thank you.”
“Follow the sign, man from the Citadel,” Book of Faces instructed. Looking at Paul, he added, “And you should draw this world. Create it again. Give it a chance to be reborn.”
They parted ways with Book of Faces at the crossroads before the entrance to the hall of pools. They hurried to get away. Paul kept looking back, but he was unable to see anything in the darkness of the corridor. After a while, they heard the old man angrily exclaim something and other voices shouting back at him, then they heard a bang, a splash and then everything fell silent.
F
THEY QUICKLY MOVED along the corridor in the direction indicated by the old man. Rick's eyes followed the walls, confidently picking out familiar construction features — structural slabs, connecting seams and the way the communication lines were installed. Almost like home.
The corridor segments repeated at regular intervals. The walls were slightly convex, with a grooved grid-like surface. An external wall could be seen through this grid, with some space between it and the inner wall. There was probably something else behind it, some sort of other surface that isolated the corridor from the outside world — a many-layered cocoon, similar to the way that the outer layer of his native Thermopolis was arranged.
A rustle suddenly broke the silence. Rick raised his hand to signal Paul, slowed down his pace and bent forwards slightly, looking for the threat. Then, he crouched and put out his torch. Paul went quiet behind him.
They sat there in this way for around a minute. Once he got used to the darkness, Rick slowly raised the blaster, flicked the switch on the stock to raise the intensity and took aim. Another tense minute of silence. Rick fired. The blaster coughed and the sound of a squeal followed by a thud on the floor came from ahead. Rick straightened out, quickly lit the torch and advanced, with Paul following in his steps. Once they reached the source of the sound, they stopped, staring at a pool of blood that had spread upon the gray slabs.
“What was that?” Paul asked.
“A rat. A rat the size of a child. When you hear squeaking, tell me.”
They moved on. Rick gave the torch to Paul, so that he could comfortably hold the blaster with both hands.
“If I may say so, you're an excellent shot,” Paul noted.
“Right. Lesson number two. Stop being so overly polite. How old are you?”
“Eighteen. My birthday was in spring,” Paul proudly answered. “My initiation into the Brotherhood is coming soon.”
Rick chuckled.
“I doubt it. How old do you think I am?”
He glanced back at him and noticed that Paul was no longer so quick to look away.
“Thirty?” Paul suggested.
Rick laughed. Did he really look that old? It was time to shave when he got the chance, it could be that his beard made him look a lot older.
“Wrong! I'm barely over twenty. So we're almost of an age. So stop being so obsequious.”
“And these rats... How do you know that it's them?”
“I know, there's no doubt about that. If one of the creatures is around, the rest of the swarm is bound to be nearby,” Rick assured him. “They never go around alone. But they are wary of people and larger aggressive animals. They're also afraid of fire.”
“A kitchen rat once bit our cook on the nose,” Paul offered.
“That's nice,” Rick chuckled. “The one that we came across would have ripped his throat out. They can smell blood a kilometer away... I mean, from far away, many paces away. They will soon gather at the lair of the White Worm. Did you keep the sickle that I gave you in the Retreat?”
“Yeah.”
“I would advise you to keep it handy.”
“Tell me about the old world,” Paul asked him.
“It used to take people years to learn all that I know.” Rick slowed his pace, listening, but then quickened it again. “My words are unlikely to change much in your mind. You need time for that.” He kept quiet, listening carefully again. “Of course, you need to know a lot and the more you know the better. Science, art, history and all the rest. Maybe we should start with the reasons you decided to follow me? How to defeat the cold? There are primitive methods, such as fire. But fire does not solve every problem and it is not possible to start a fire here, because there is not enough fuel.”
“In the Retreat, every log is worth its weight in... gold.”
“Gold?” Rick chuckled. “Do you understand the meaning of this saying? No one needs gold anymore, it has lost its value.”
Paul blushed and explained, “I came across these words in the ancient books and I liked it a lot...”
“And you were waiting for a moment to use it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, at least you're honest. Once upon a time, gold was one of the rare and expensive metals. It was used to make parts for various devices and for making jewelry, but gold does not interest anyone now, so it would be more correct to say that every log is worth its weight in food.”
“I see.”
Rick remembered Kiernan's tales about how the worshipers prepared wood for the winter in the nearest forest and returned to his previous subject.
“The heating of homes is an important issue. In order to resolve it, ancient humans invented machines for the production of heat which they got by burning coal, oil and gas, which are natural fuels. Nuclear power was discovered next — it would be difficult to explain the principles of the way it works to you because you do not know physics or chemistry. I was like that too, once upon a time and there were many things I did not know. I could barely count on my fingers.”
“What is this Citadel that Book of Faces talked about?”
“A great fortress at the edge of the world. My former home.”
“Is it bigger than the Retreat?”
“Much bigger. Its size is indescribable. Another creation of the Ancients.”
“Did you leave it so you could restore knowledge?”
Rick said nothing, thinking about his answer. The faces of those that were left in Thermopolis arose before his eyes: Ahmed, Cornelius, Aurora, Kyoto... Maya.
“Yes,” he replied at last.
Now it was Paul's turn to be silent as he thought on what he had just heard. After a few minutes passed, Rick decided to continue, omitting certain details about Thermopolis.
“When it became clear that people could also live beyond the bounds of the Citadel, I decided to find out if that was really true. My people also suffered from possession, which they called the plague. A lot of knowledge had been lost, but a disease must be studied in order to make a medicine to defeat it. However, this is impossible without knowledge. That is why I want to find an ancient city, as the science and everything else that is needed to save humanity from destruction might still be there. For all of the people in this worl
“That's a great goal!” Paul noted. “If we agree that possession is curable.”
“So what is it that happened to Black Ant, in your opinion? He was cured, you heard it yourself.”
“What if it wasn't permanent? Maybe a person's mind becomes clear for some time, but then they turn into an animal again?”
“That's what we will find out if we reach the city.”
“All that happens must be seen as a trial...�
� Paul muttered.
“Stop that!” Rick interrupted. I have already heard these fairy tales. The trial is not the point. This sort of nonsense was made up for the uneducated and obedient in order to hold on to power. Where would you be now, if you had stayed in the Retreat? Would you be scrubbing frozen blood off the floor of the temple? Or would you update the records of the great Maus that nobody needs in the archive?”
Paul did not reply.
“Man has discovered much and became free as a result of curiosity and the violation of restrictions. Sometimes you need to go against the established order of things to make the world a better place.”
Light glimmered ahead and Rick ordered for the torch to be put out. The bright spot at the end of the tunnel began to gradually increase in size.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Rick warned, as he slowed down and stepped as quietly as he could. “We can talk about everything later.”
Paul was obviously nervous, breathing loudly behind Rick's back. Rick told him to quieten down again and raised his blaster. Fresh frost breathed into his face. They approached the opening, where the corridor ended in gray emptiness and stood still, taking in the sight before them.
The corridor had led them to the base of a giant crater, with the smooth ice of a frozen lake glittering at the bottom. Pieces of various constructions stuck out of the sides of the crater, covered in a thin layer of snow.
Rick surmised that something really powerful had exploded here, remembering how he had once seen something similar when he had come across an abandoned settlement with a ruined dome in the wastelands.
“We need to hurry up,” he said, hoping that the explosion did not leave radiation behind and that it happened quite a long time ago.
He started to climb the slope, with Paul breathing heavily behind him. His feet kept slipping on the frozen ground. Rick tried to avoid looking up at the sky. His head still spun whenever he looked at that blue abyss, tinged with violet.
They got to the top and spent a long while standing on the edge of the crater and looking at the surrounding landscape. Rick used the rising sun to get his bearings and understood that they had wandered far to the northeast. The roofs of domed cities glittered on the horizon, the day was nearing its end and the shadows were getting longer.
Paul started to ask about camping for the night, but Rick ignored him, consumed by his own thoughts as he walked along the edge of the crater, carefully watching the horizon and trying to make out the details. He eventually stopped this pointless endeavor — it was too far away.
He stood there for some time and then turned around and quickly strode away from the crater. He could hear Paul breathing raggedly behind him as the younger man caught up. Paul no longer tried to start up a conversation. They continued to walk along the plain in this way, in the light of the fading sunset. Once it got completely dark, Rick somehow came across some pieces of planks that had somehow ended up on the plain. He pointed the blaster forwards and burned a hole in the ground and started to take his gear out of his travel bag while the pit cooled from the heat. He unfolded and stretched out a piece of light but durable cloth over the hole, fixing it in place with pegs. Then, he took a thick metallic disk and pressed its middle to make a small pot, which he immediately gave to Paul, ordering him to gather some snow.
Paul turned the pot around in his hands in surprise and set off to do as he was bid. Meanwhile, Rick made a hearth out of rocks by the entrance to their dugout and used the planks to start a fire. Once Paul returned, he took a brick of dried concentrate from his bag, and broke it in half.
“Here you are. Eat. It tastes like rubber, but it gives you strength.”
“What is it?” Paul asked with surprise as he passed Rick the pot full of snow.
“Food.”
Rick put the pot onto the fire and started to chew the concentrate. The snow in the pot melted quickly, and when the water started to boil, Rick added some dark brown powder to it and took the pot from the fire. He waited a little and filled a glass that he had pushed out of another, smaller disk.
“It smells nice,” Paul noted.
“You should drink some first.”
“What is this?” Paul looked at the drink with suspicion.
“Coffee.”
Paul brought the glass up to his face, smelled it and sneezed. Then, he took a sip and grimaced with disgust.
“It's bitter.”
“Drink.”
Rick put anything that he did not need back in the bag, pushed the embers around after adding the remains of the planks and took Paul's empty glass. He stopped for a moment, looking at his companion.
“You look terrible!”
He put his hand on Paul's forehead, which was covered in perspiration. Paul was obviously feverish.
“I am a bit tired,” he complained.
“Are you cold?”
“No more than usual. My whole body is in pain.”
Rick poured him more coffee and forced him to drink it. While Paul was drinking out of the glass, Rick noticed that his companion had not finished his half of the briquette. After forcing himself to finish the coffee, Paul quietly crawled into the dugout, lying down in a fetal position, and laid there silently, shuddering occasionally.
“How often did you take the elixir?” Rick asked as the bent down to look in the dugout.
“A drop every two days,” Paul answered reluctantly.
“I see. You're in withdrawal. It seems they got you on this horrible garbage to keep you on a short leash. Did they usually withhold the elixir from Mausites that had done sinful things?”
“Y-yes,” Paul squeezed out.
“You are a drug addict, a man that is dependent on the ingredients of the elixir that cause euphoria, which is an illusion of happiness. Get ready to suffer.”
Paul sniffed.
“Do you already regret that you came with me?” Paul had wrapped his hand with a piece of thick cloth and gathered the hot stones from the hearth, which he was now putting around the walls inside the dugout.
“Yes.”
“That's right. Me too, for dragging you along with me.”
“It's a shame that I can't punch you in the face.”
Rick chuckled. It was good if he was angry, that meant that he was fighting it. He climbed out of the dugout and put new stones around the hearth. There was not much firewood, but it would be enough for the night. He heard a quiet moan coming from the dugout.
“I am happy about your urge to fight,” Rick said after he returned and sat down by Paul's side on the ground. “That means that all is not yet lost. You are pathetic and helpless now, Paul. The scrawniest rat could kill you now and all because you are not used to living in harsh conditions. You would not last a day on the surface on your own.”
Paul started moaning again and twisted around, searching in the folds of his clothing with his hand.
“I have seen many people like you,” Rick continued, “helpless slaves that live by their illusions that only care about their own well-being.”
Paul turned around and lay still, blindly staring at Rick through the darkness.
“Your life is not worth spit,” Rick whispered darkly. “You created nothing. All that interests you is your own precious hide and power. You bow and scrape before your teachers but you secretly hate them and dream of taking their place so that you can control the herd in exactly the same way, because you are all of one breed. You are soulless vermin, that's what you are. You are one of them too.”
“Then why did you rescue me?” Paul's eyes glistened with anger.
“Exactly. Why did I? I don't know anymore. Maybe I believed in you for a moment, believed in your desire for knowledge. But everything turned out differently and now I think that I was wrong. You are a weakling.”
Paul screamed with pain and struck out with his hand which was holding the sickle. The curved blade made a ripping noise as it tore the cloth above his head and got stuck in the ground as it landed. Paul swung blindl
y again, but then his chin felt the impact of a fist. Sparks danced before his eyes as his jaw cracked and Paul could not feel his body for a moment. When darkness filled his eyes and consumed the sparks, he heard someone say, “Nice try. But you should think about the fact that I was born and lived my entire life in the dark.”
“Oh, god have mercy...”
“What are you complaining about?” Rick sneered. “Oh, all right, I think you've talked me into giving you another chance.”
Paul groped about in front of himself and realized that he would lose anyway.
“You bastard!” he exclaimed and then gasped from the pain in his jaw. “Wasteland scum! Who are you? Who do you think you are?”
He found a stone, grabbed it, but immediately had to let it go — it was still too hot from the fire. He could not think of anything better than to start throwing handfuls of earth all around him and curse profusely. He was losing his breath from his helplessness until he completely ran out of energy. Then, he fell to the ground and groaned.
This was when Rick started to laugh.
“Not bad, my friend,” he said. “I have finally understood that this is what Book of Faces meant when was talking about your face. You have been wearing a mask all your life and you have finally torn it off.”
“What do you even know about me? You...” Paul muttered hoarsely.
“Believe me, I know enough.” Rick sighed. “I knew a guy just like you. This guy lived his simple life, hoping for a better future. He just wanted to provide himself and his sister with everything they needed. Nothing special. He joined the guard in his Commune and honestly believed that he was doing the right thing. But everything turned out differently. He was the servant of liars and scoundrels that used him for their own criminal ends. They robbed the Commune and lied to the people, hiding the terrible truth from them. All of this was disguised as a great goal and the belief in a better future which would never come. The people suffered and thought that their suffering was justified. But one day, everything changed. This guy risked everything that was dear to him. He went on a dangerous journey where he could have perished. And when he violated the laws of the Commune it turned out that a new world opened to him and a new purpose appeared in his life. Just like you, he was the prisoner of many delusions. He was afraid, he made mistakes and he wanted to return. But he never lied to himself about who he really was. And when he chose a path, it meant that he would follow it to its very end.”