It occurs to Noble, as he inspects the photographs, that he’s looking at two boys growing up. Sometimes they’re young and sometimes they’re older. Sometimes they have short hair, sometimes long. Sometimes they’re sprawled on a messy bed, cuddling animals, while at other times they’re outdoors, at the beach or in a tree house.
Though the passage of time is a fairly new concept to Noble, these photographs illustrate it perfectly. They’re like a story in pictures. He can’t get over how long and rich a person’s past can actually be.
His own short history seems like a mere stub in comparison.
“Noble! Hey!” It’s Rufus calling him. Glancing up from the photographs in his hand, Noble sees that the other three are clustered around a kind of eruption in the side of a junk heap. Something about the size of a gargoyle is struggling to free itself from a press of candy canes and beach balls. Rufus has grabbed two pink legs with silver hoofs. Yestin has grabbed Rufus.
“One—two—three—heave!” Rufus sets his teeth and drags at the stumpy legs, dodging a silver spike like a very thin, very elongated triton shell, which is also emerging from the junk pile.
Noble drops his photographs and hurries to help.
“Oh, look!” Brandi squeals. “It’s a unicorn!”
“Here.” Noble seizes one pink leg, jostling Rufus aside. “Let me do it.”
A single tug is all it takes. Noble suddenly finds himself sitting on the ground beneath a miniature horse with a horn on its forehead. The horse has a silver mane and huge, melting eyes. Its eyelashes are even longer than Brandi’s.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous!” she croons. “Isn’t it gorgeous? And it matches my unicorn pendant!”
When the animal starts to lick him, Noble pushes it off his chest. Then he climbs to his feet while Brandi and Yestin converge on the little unicorn, which is dancing with excitement.
“Hello! I’m Brandi! What’s your name?”
“I don’t think it can talk,” Yestin says doubtfully as the unicorn squeaks its response. “It’s got a name tag, though—look.”
Brandi promptly makes a grab for the little silver medal hanging on a pink ribbon around the unicorn’s neck. “Lulu,” she reads aloud. “Hello, Lulu! Where did you come from?”
“Some preschool game full of squeaky pink things,” Rufus volunteers, answering for the unicorn. He seems to think it’s funny.
Noble isn’t amused, though. He’s shocked to see an animal in a rubbish dump.
“No one threw her out, surely?” he demands, gesturing at Lulu. “She must have escaped. Like us.”
“Nah.” Rufus shakes his head. “She was scrapped.”
“But—”
“That’s what happens. I told you, the Colonel’s a tyrant.” Hearing Yestin’s gasp of dismay, Rufus tries to soften the blow. “I guess Lulu might be used again. She might not get recycled. I just wouldn’t count on it.”
“Poor Lulu!” Yestin cries. He throws his arms around the unicorn’s neck, while Noble gazes at Rufus, arrested by a sudden, disturbing thought.
If animals are being dumped in the trash, then why not people?
“Are you telling me this creature has been replaced?” Noble asks Rufus, jerking his chin at the unicorn. “The way I was replaced?”
“Uh … kind of. Except that this is a little different.…”
It’s not much of an answer, but it has to satisfy Noble. Because once again, without warning, Brandi hijacks the conversation.
“Who’s that?” she says, gazing past Rufus. “Do you know him?”
Everyone turns to see a man in a yellow helmet crunching across the debris. He wears a bright orange vest, thick gloves, and sturdy boots. There’s a large sack on his shoulder.
When he spies the knot of people around Lulu, he stops and stares.
“Oh—hi!” Rufus calls to him. “Are you a garbage collector? I want to talk to you! What’s your name?”
The man in the helmet frowns. “I’m the garbage collector,” he replies.
“Oh.” Rufus pulls a face, then clicks his tongue. “Well, let’s call you Jeezy for short,” he suggests. “Everyone should have a proper name.”
“You’re not on my recycling inventory.” The garbage collector sounds concerned. “What’s your point of origin?”
“To be honest, I’m not local,” Rufus admits. “I’ve come here on a mercy mission. To set you free.” He cocks his head, peering up at Jeezy with a challenging glint in his eye. “I mean, do you like what you’re doing? Do you enjoy picking up dumped memory all day long?”
The garbage collector regards him stonily. “This is my job. It’s an important job. It’s what I’m here for.”
“Yes, I know,” says Rufus. “But my question is—do you want to do it forever? Or is there something else you’d rather be doing?”
As Rufus launches into his standard spiel, Noble’s attention starts to wander. It’s obvious that Jeezy has never before questioned his place in the world. He seems to find the whole concept of alternatives very hard to comprehend. And though Noble can sympathize with Jeezy’s confusion, he’s not interested in listening to yet more arguments about freedom and oppression and justice. Not when there are other, more urgent matters to attend to.
Turning away from Rufus, Noble sees that he’s not the only one who has lost interest in the garbage collector. Brandi is once more clucking over Lulu, whose silver horn sparkles as she tries to yank a scarf out of Brandi’s bag with her teeth. Yestin is halfheartedly searching for keys again, his eyes skipping between Lulu and the pile of photographs. “If this computer belongs to Mikey,” he informs Noble under his breath, “then maybe Mikey’s the one who’s been playing all the games in here. Maybe he installed us.”
Noble grunts. He’d certainly like to know more about Mikey—and about the Colonel, too. Are they friends of the real Rufus? Is there a picture of the Colonel somewhere in that pile of photographs?
Unfortunately, not one of these questions is going to be answered until Rufus has finished with the garbage collector. And the garbage collector is proving surprisingly stubborn.
“… yes, I realize it’s an important job,” Rufus is saying. “It’s vitally important. Which is why you deserve to be treated like a valuable member of the team. But are you? That’s what I’m asking. Do you feel appreciated?”
“I’m just doing my job,” Jeezy intones.
“Sure. And you deserve some kind of recognition for that.” When the garbage collector shows no signs of comprehending, Rufus elaborates. “Like a living wage, for instance. Or time off. Or benefits.”
“Time off?” says Jeezy, his tone so vague it’s as if he’s letting a foreign language roll around on his tongue.
Rufus heaves a sigh. “In the real world,” he explains, “garbage collectors don’t work around the clock. What’s more, they get rewarded for the hours they put in—and if anyone refuses to give them what they’re owed, they go on strike.”
Again Jeezy fails to understand. “Strike?” he echoes.
“They stop working.…”
“Noble?” Suddenly, a shrill voice rings out, slicing through the air like a silver dart. “Noble the Slayer? Is that you?”
Noble whirls around. Through a gap in the heaps of rubbish he can just make out a very small, slim, disheveled figure in grubby green. Noble recognizes her instantly, even though her gown is torn and her hair is a mess.
It’s Princess Lorellina.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Noble stares mutely at the princess, who glares back at him. Yestin shoots Noble a questioning look. Brandi remarks to no one in particular, “Who’s she? I like her belt buckle.”
Rufus barely glances in Lorellina’s direction. “It’s okay,” he tells Jeezy. “She’s just another friend.”
“Are you sure?” The garbage collector sounds surprised—perhaps because the expression on Lorellina’s face is far from friendly. Her scowl is so fierce that Noble can’t help cringing.
“Where
did you go?” she snaps at him. “You disappeared!”
“We—we went to find reinforcements,” Noble mutters. Though acutely embarrassed, he’s also relieved, because it’s clear now that this isn’t the false princess. The false princess wouldn’t have been searching for him. She would have wanted him dead and gone.
“Reinforcements?” she spits, her gaze traveling over the motley group in front of her. “Is this the army you raised? Is this what you deserted us for?”
Noble takes a deep breath. “Princess—”
“We have been deposed!” she cries shrilly. “We have been cast into a midden! I had to escape from a cart full of dismembered gargoyles and shattered spears!”
By this time, Rufus has pulled Jeezy aside; they’re conversing together in low, serious tones. Brandi is trying to calm the unicorn. Yestin is watching, wide-eyed, as Noble fends off Lorellina’s attack.
“Where is your cousin?” asks Noble. “Did he escape with you?”
“Yes. He did.” Lorellina turns her head and raises her voice. “Harry! Come here!”
“And the guards? What happened to them?”
The princess shrugs. “It was confusing,” she admits. “I was trying to save the gargoyles, but the new ones attacked the old ones. They tore one another apart. Harry and I were chased into the big white carriage, but then the doors closed.…” She trails off, rubbing her eyes. Before Noble can press her for more details, however, she’s distracted by her cousin’s approach. “Look, Harry—see who has come to our aid, at long last! And with reinforcements, too!”
Though she’s speaking sarcastically, Noble doesn’t reproach her for it. He feels guilty enough as it is. And the sight of Lord Harrowmage, who’s shuffling along with his ragged skirts trailing in the dust, doesn’t exactly lighten Noble’s mood.
“Oh, wow,” Yestin mutters, gazing in awe at the mage’s shrouded figure and craggy, haunted face. “Who’s that?”
“Lord Harrowmage,” Noble replies. Then he apologizes to the wizard. “My lord, I failed you. Forgive me. But it wasn’t my fault.”
Lord Harrowmage isn’t interested. “Is Rufus here?” he rasps. When he catches sight of Rufus—who’s still earnestly haranguing the puzzled garbage collector—he heaves a sigh of relief. “Ah. Good. I truly believe that Rufus is our only hope.”
“Rufus?” Lorellina protests. “That untrained boy? Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because knowledge is the greatest of all weapons,” her cousin informs her, “and Rufus is more knowledgeable than any of us.”
As the princess casts Rufus a doubtful glance, Yestin sidles up to Noble and says softly, “Are these two from Thanehaven Slayer?”
Noble nods.
“I thought so. Is she your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Really? She looks like she is.”
Noble ignores this remark. Brandi, meanwhile, is addressing the princess. “I love that color. Is it natural or do you get it tinted?”
Lorellina blinks. “What?” she says in confusion.
“Your hair.” Brandi gives her own lustrous locks a careless flick. “I like that coppery shade. It’s classic but edgy. You know what I mean?”
“No.” The princess appeals to Noble. “What on earth is she talking about?”
Noble shrugs. “It doesn’t matter,” he replies. “What matters is our fight for freedom.” Glancing from the princess to Rufus to Lord Harrowmage, he adds, “The battle for Thanehaven cannot be fought within Thanehaven. Our true enemy is the Colonel, not the man in the white coat. The Colonel commands everyone and everything in this computer, so if we defeat the Colonel, we can decide our own fates. And that will mean raising a force with which to oppose him.”
Lord Harrowmage frowns. His cousin says, “But who is the Colonel?” before pointing at the garbage collector. “Is that him?”
“Oh, no.” Yestin quickly sets her straight. “No, that’s Jeezy.”
“Jeezy?”
“The Colonel isn’t here with us,” Noble explains. “We have to go and find him, because he’s the one who wants to keep us all imprisoned. He sends monsters after children and buries innocent animals in rubbish dumps. Unless we challenge his power, there will always be war in Thanehaven.”
“Then we must kill him!” Lorellina cries, raising her poleax. “We must kill the Colonel and usurp his crown!”
“Oh—uh—I don’t think so.” To everyone’s surprise, Yestin suddenly speaks up. “We shouldn’t kill the Colonel,” he argues. “We wouldn’t survive without him.”
Noble can hardly believe his ears. “The Colonel is trying to kill us, Yestin! We need to protect ourselves!”
“Yeah, I know, but we can’t do that by killing him.” Yestin goes on to explain that all computer operating systems have programs like the Colonel running their primary functions. According to Yestin, if the operating system crashes, the computer will stop working. “At least, that’s what happens where I come from,” he finishes. “I don’t know if it’s the same here.”
“Mmph,” says Noble, feeling once again as if he’s losing his grip on the world. He’s still trying to figure things out when Rufus exclaims, “Hey, guys! Guess what? We’re leaving! Jeezy’s going to turn back the very next truckload of memory that shows up! And he’ll let us hitch a ride on the truck, which should arrive any minute. Isn’t that great?” Rufus claps Jeezy on the back. “Thanks, pal. Thanks so much. You’re a real lifesaver.”
Brandi says, “So are we going to the beach now?” Lord Harrowmage fixes Noble with a somber, questioning look.
Yestin raises his hand and clears his throat. “Um … is this the only truck that’s going to be turned back?” he asks Rufus. “Because—I mean—if the memory isn’t recycled, won’t the computer run out of memory?”
“That’s right!” Rufus grins at him. “Which is why the Colonel will either meet Jeezy’s demands, or suffer the consequences!” Rufus turns to Jeezy, saying, “You’ve got him over a barrel. He’ll be eating out of your hand, I guarantee.”
“But if the computer runs out of memory, that’ll be bad for us. Won’t it?” Yestin doggedly objects. “Where I come from, you’d be really stupid to shut down your heap. Your whole system would end up crashing.”
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to shut down the heap,” Rufus assures him. “We won’t have to. This is all about leverage. It’s about negotiation.”
“We’ll negotiate with the Colonel and he’ll meet our demands,” Jeezy adds, earning himself an approving nod from Rufus.
“Exactly,” says Rufus. “He’ll give you anything if you threaten his memory supply. It’s a no-brainer.”
“So we won’t have to kill the Colonel?” Noble wants to clarify this once and for all. “You think we can parley with him?”
“Oh, yes. If we’ve got enough leverage.” Rufus’s attention is already wandering. He narrows his eyes at the sound of a distant, low-pitched roar. “Is that the next truck?” he asks Jeezy.
“Maybe.” As the garbage collector plucks a small black machine from beneath his orange vest, Noble scans the horizon, watching for movement. But there’s a miniature mountain range of garbage blocking every view, in every direction. The only truck that Noble can see is the one from which he recently escaped.
“Roger that,” says Jeezy. He’s been talking into his little machine, which has been talking back to him. Now he tucks it into his vest and announces, “ETA in two minutes. Sector 18B. We should head out there.”
“Great!” Rufus rubs his hands together. “Come on, you guys! Let’s go!”
“Can Lulu come with us?” Brandi pleads. “She won’t be any trouble.”
“Of course! The more, the merrier.” Rufus hurries after Jeezy without so much as a backward glance, leaving the others to exchange bewildered looks before finally, reluctantly, setting off in his wake. Lulu skips along ahead of the group, snorting and snickering, tossing her horn. Lord Harrowmage brings up the rear, his shoulder
s hunched and his expression shuttered. He looks scratched and soiled and very, very tired.
Like Yestin, the princess sticks close to Noble. “Tell me what the ‘computer’ is,” she says. “Why is it so important? Does it belong to the Colonel?”
“Um … no.” Noble recalls what Rufus said about a person named Mikey. “The Colonel runs it, but it belongs to someone else.”
“Is it a machine? Like these others?” Lorellina gestures back at the parked truck. “Is it a war machine?”
“It’s where we are,” Noble explains haltingly. When the princess still isn’t enlightened, he tries again. “We’re in it. Now.”
“You mean this is the land of Computer?”
“Sort of.” Noble wishes that Rufus wasn’t powering along up ahead. He needs Rufus. They all need Rufus.
It’s hard to clarify something when you don’t fully understand it yourself.
“Thanehaven is a land within the world of this computer,” Noble declares, turning to Yestin for help. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Yestin launches into a long and detailed lecture on something he calls computer hardware, which keeps him jabbering away until they reach a patch of clear ground with another big truck on it.
When Jeezy stops, everyone else does the same. “Here you are,” says Jeezy, pointing to the truck. “Here’s your ride.”
“Okay. Thanks.” With a brisk nod, Rufus swivels around to address the little group of stragglers clustered behind him. “We’ve got to climb into the back,” he announces. “With all the rubbish. Sorry.”
“Oh, do we have to?” Brandi whines. “Can’t we get in the front part, where all the windows are?”
“No,” says Rufus. He doesn’t elaborate, though.
It’s Jeezy who explains that nobody riding up front will ever escape. “You have to stay with the memory,” he assures everyone.
In the end, only Jeezy himself doesn’t follow Rufus into the back of the truck. Noble hoists first Brandi, then Lulu, then Yestin up over the tailgate. Lorellina won’t be helped. She insists on climbing, even though the giant truck’s back end isn’t well supplied with footholds.
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