Tome 1
Living in the 2140s isn't all that bad. It isn't as uncontrolled as in centuries past; but
don't get me wrong, one could make one's fortune just as easily as anyone else by working
until you get a stroke and finally winning the lottery. I guess I could do that, but the idea
of throwing my life and money away like that really does not appeal to me. It's like
putting gold into a disintegrator and hoping that platinum comes out--it just does not
make much sense.
What's it like here? Everyone lives within minutes of their work if they don't live at
work. Maybe you don't have the problem we do in that most of our work complement is
composed of people that like to work--all the time. There are basically three types of
"workers": those who have interplanetary jobs, those who work in the Company on the
ground, and those who collect from off the first two. Each has developed a derogatory
slang for each other: pilots are called "Fly-boys," the collectors are called "Sponges" or
"Users", and the rest are "Land-dwellers" or "Ground-hogs". Personally, I prefer Landdwellers over Ground-hogs.
Each job has its problems. The Land-dwellers have to cope with boredom and
tedium; the Fly-boys have to deal with interplanetary diseases and never-ending
adventures; and the Users have to manage their money and obesity. Sometimes, I wish I
had the chance to cope with some of their "problems"!
I guess you would call me a standard Land-dweller that continually finds himself in
dead end jobs. I honestly can't image the Fly-boys or Users having the same problem.
For the Fly-boys, adventure is their job description; whereas, the Users always invent
something. I've had quite a few jobs (all of them very boring), but finally, I had the
fortune of getting a job that took me away from all of that--to a degree that I could never
have imagined. I found this panacea while working for a company maintaining archaic
robots (believe it or not). These robots come from scrappers or some Fly-boy who didn't
want it any longer. They are basically only useful for door stops or barricades. Why they
wanted me to repair machines that would never be used again was certainly beyond my
comprehension. Maybe some User recognized my worth, felt sorry for me, or wanted to
have a good laugh--like I said, they invent something for their amusement. What was
peculiar about my job was the fact that I "needed" an assistant--a modern robot--to help
me fix the archaic ones! Somehow, logic was not a prescribed necessity for my niche in
society. Still, I did my job and got paid: I guess that is what is important (while some fatboy laughed).
Like I said, this was the job that stripped from my life all boring drudgery--in that
universe. Let me try to explain by telling you my story.
Copyright © Sean Walton
1
Tome 1
Those Who Want Problems Can Have Mine
You know how it is--no matter how good a job may be, there comes a point where
you stagnate. You can't learn anymore from the job, all the worker robots are doing
things you wish you could do but security forbids (on out-of-date machines?!), and
finally, you hate Mondays. Well, I was at that point, and it was Monday in the middle of
a synthetic winter when I went in again for work.
I work in an old building on the north side of the city. I realize that the north side is
not exactly the safest part of town, but that's life, you know? When I said that the
building was old, I didn't say how old. Let's just say that it was built long before the
Robot-Human Wars (like 150 to 200 years). The entrance was off to the side and was
guarded by a surveillance system--anyone not identified positively was fried without
question (why? I don't know).
I entered the building and walked down the long hallway. The sides were lined with
ducts and pipes no longer in use. Dust demonstrated the unkempt state this "mansion"
was in. Every once in a while, a cord would dangle from the ceiling. There was no
danger of electrocution because, like the pipes, the cords were no longer in use because
everything requiring power supplied its own. I walked to an oval portal with a broken
door and climbed down some stairs (another out of date item) that led to the overhead
suspended catwalk over our work area.
"Hey, Tome!" my manager yelled at me as I rounded the corner, "Have you fixed
Ronde yet?" He stood about my height and wore the customary blue uniform with a
small white badge for management, while I liked to wear the twentieth-century suit and
tie. Even though he did not need it, he walked with a cane and faked a limp. There was a
large star-like scar in his forehead from an old working accident. Aside from this
blemish, he was (almost) in perfect health (he wasn't even overweight), yet his eyes were
dark and impenetrable, almost devoid of intelligence. The accident relating to the scar
was probably the reason for his honorary title of manager.
My expression darkened a little, but I was able to control my irritation. I had been
working on that particular robot for about three months, give or take a couple weeks.
Normally, I was supposed to program the assistants to do the job--erasing the memory,
doing tuneups, etc. Why can't I ever do anything on my own (officially)?
"No, sir," I responded carefully, "there are some unexplainable problems with. . . . "
"I don't care if that model has to be scrapped, Tome! I don't want it around any
longer! Do you understand me? Scrap it!" Hilsen said as he walked away. Funny, he
never really looked at me. "By the way, Tome, you better not be fixing it yourself!" I
heard him say from around the same corner I had just turned.
"Yes, sir."
No, I'm not supposed to fix the stupid machines myself. I could never understand
why. Anyway, about Hilsen: you may think it strange that I have a living human being as
a manager. Well, I really don't. Oh, sure, he's alive all right, but a human being? No, not
really. A couple of years back while he was working on some machinery, it exploded and
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Tome 1
some of the shrapnel gave him a partial lobotomy Now, according to others, he's far
easier to work with. But just conversing with him was always less than interesting.
Anyway, he's not quite all there--more machine than human. The mechanical way he
walks would lead one to believe that he was merely a cyborg, yet there is a little trick in
his mannerism and gait that would lead anyone to believe that there was some
intelligence underneath his short-cropped hair. But, I have yet to find any other
indication. Nothing like working under a brainless manager.
If you haven't gathered from that last "discussion," I have been working on the robot.
I don't think Hilsen knows about it--at least I hope he doesn't: it could mean losing my job
and possible prosecution. My job is somewhat high security for some reason (beyond my
comprehension). I think it has something to do with the memories of the explorer units,
but I've never found out anything interesting. It might have to do with the risks to
personnel: some of the units are rigged against tampering. And, since the government is
basically run by businesses and businesses are run by insurance companies that's where
most the Users "work", nobody wants to pay liability for a dismembered employee.
I turned another corner and entered the command area. Sitting at the control board,
Willy (my assistant) was idly punching some buttons that did nothing but turn on and off
lights on the panel or the main work floor, and looking very bored. Willy was a state-ofthe-art robot that is supposed to take the place of humans in most working capacities. It
stood about five centimeters taller than I and had a hard exoskeleton made of polished,
reflective plastic. Because of this model's durability, it is almost the only humanoid robot
to completely replace the need for humans in shops like this one. Still, someone in upper
management decided to find out how much fun it would be to place me in this
environment.
Normally, this model was far more dependable and productive. Yet, my assistant is
quite an interesting "fellow." On one hand, it knows its stuff; on the other, it's a complete
goldbricker. It was also given the knowledge of a top-rate engineer while having the
personality of a femme. If that isn't confusing, I guess my job here in the robot mortuary
makes sense too.
"Oh, sir! I didn't hear you come in!" the robot purred. Willy leaned back in its
custom designed chair while crossing its legs.
I can't tell you how much that femme robot drives me up the wall! But what can one
do? I was told that it was here because it partially went through some very unique
reprogramming when it was pushed into a large vat of sulfuric acid. Sometimes, I've
wanted to complete that reprogramming!
"Cut it, Willy! Where is Ronde?" I looked out the view window into the work floor.
The clutter reflected the efficiency and regard of our little establishment. Ronde was not
where I left it last Friday. Suspicions immediately began formulating and focusing on the
pervert robot I was facing. If Willy has done something with it. . . . I glared at him and
calculated how I could execute the reprogramming without getting caught.
"Oh, well," the robot began with dramatic pauses, "when you left work, I felt that you
were just taking far too long to fix it. By the way, far be it from me to judge, but you
know how the Company is, and well. . . . " Willy's hands were flying about as he talked-Copyright © Sean Walton
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Tome 1
I wonder if I were to hold his hands steady, would he be able to talk?
"Get to the point!"
"You know you shouldn't work on a machine! It could be dangerous! Who knows
what terrible things it might conceal! Oh, no!" the robot said, covering its mouth. "I've
said too much!"
"Yes, you have! And if the Company were to find out that you told me this, you
would be liable for spurring my curiosity. And while I'll be in jail, you'll be scrap! So, I
would advise you not telling anyone about this." This was exactly what I was hoping for!
I had been planning for this mistake on Willy's part. It is known throughout the Company
System that humans are uncontrollable when something spurs their curiosity. Any robot
that breaks this rule gets scrapped without hesitation. Now that the weird robot had made
this very mistake, I could continue working without Hilsen ever knowing.
"Oh, sir! I am sorry! I didn't mean to. . . . "
I recognized his tone, and I had to stop Willy from going bonkers. "Don't worry
about it. Just don't say anything about it," I instructed it. Really strange! We knew all
along that machines could never reach the point of truly human thinking because they
never had the basic human free-agency component. But, when the machines came to this
discovery, many self-knowledge machines went into depression. Have you ever seen a
depressed robot? It's really sad. It was too late: the technology went too far too fast
without a single soul to decide the moral implications of creating self-knowledge
machines.
Willy was one of these self-knowledge machines. While machines have the nocuriosity rule, humans have the no-depression rule. The inevitable result of Willy's
outburst could only be self-mutilation. Even though I would love to see Willy mutilate
itself, I couldn't let that happen--it's rather difficult to hide the evidence. I never could
completely understand robot psychology.
"I'm going to see Ronde. Continue with your work on other robots, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" the femme-emasculinated robot returned with canned resolve in its voice.
It turned back to the console and resumed flicking the switches idly pretending not to be
watching me.
After determining the whereabouts of Ronde, I proceeded to the Workbench as I was
directed. You know? It's an interesting bit of social commentary when one finds himself
working with misfits. Reaching the Workbench, I looked into the viewer; there was
Ronde, immobile and apparently completely fixed. The radiation levels were normal, so I
went in to inspect Willy's work. The metallic white walls of the room were made so that
even a large explosion would hardly dent them.
When I entered, the door shut of its own volition, with an airlocking hiss. I checked
the door and found that I was locked in. That is difficult to do unless it is planned. . .
"Willy!"
"Oh, yes, sir!" The annoying voice came over the intercom. Normally, there was no
need for visual links in the Workbench, but I could imagine the silly robot in the most
self-satisfied stance--arms folded and a big grin.
"Do you want me to report you? You do remember the no-curiosity rule? Intentional
Copyright © Sean Walton
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Tome 1
homicide is even illegal to us humans." I knew that I was only grasping; he had me right
where he wanted me. And I knew that he knew.
"You humans have a saying," he said, in a tone not customary to his semi-feminine
personality, "which says 'dead men tell no tales.' Do you not? Well, let's just say that I
am cutting your tail short."
The gravity of the situation goaded me like a sword, and the callous pun turned it.
Somehow, in the process of programming self willed machines, they learned the concept
of puns and jokes--a terrible problem we have yet to overcome. Can you imagine what a
computer with a sense of humor can do? "What about Hilsen? He'll know that it wasn't
not an accident."
"What will he know? Only that you were working on a small time bomb, and it blew
up in your face. And if you're wondering about him as a human, (you told me yourself)
he is more like us than you."
Well, it was a good, boring life, I resolved. "What are you going to do with me--you
aren't going to be so cruel as to blow me into large painful chunks, are you? I mean, I
would like it quick."
There was a pause. It was obvious that Willy had not anticipated a quick
acquiescence. "No, I will not make it painful. I only want your job, not vengeance. I will
give you thirty minutes of contemplation or prayer, whatever your organic beliefs might
be."
What is this? War of the robots? That was years ago! Back when Ronde was
made. . . . My heart started pounding and a cold chill went up my back as the realization
filled my being. What's worse is the fact that Willy must have been planning this for
weeks. And I fell into his trap like a novice.
I turned to face my executioner. It was standing immobile seemingly powerless. I
walked toward it with a fearful, morbid fascination. So, this is how it's going to end:
lasered, mutilated, or gassed by my own personal project. The irony of the situation made
me grin slightly. One half hour, huh? Then--I have that much time to figure out this
thing. He must be able to power up the thing remotely.
I started to fiddle with the front panel and was startled when the thing powered up.
Immediately, my heart started pounding again, and I quickly retracted my shaking hand.
The thing hummed unnaturally (how can a machine hum naturally?) but did not give any
indication or acknowledgment of my presence. The panel slid back revealing a large,
blue glowing plate. I had seen many interfaces before but nothing like this.
I looked around on the machine still trying to decide what to do with the plate or
whether to do anything--it could be some engaging mechanism or a trap. Reminding
myself that I was to die anyway, I figured I might as well find out what that thing was.
I reached out and touched the plate. I felt a numbing cold surround my hand; I tried
to pull back but found it stuck. Panic filled me as I looked around the machine, expecting
a hypodermic or an organo-phaser, both of which are lethal to the unsuspecting: the
hypodermic would inject a drop or two of nerve gas (primitive but effective) and a special
enzyme to disrupt all genetic material so no cloning can be made, and the organo-phaser
simply takes over the mind and will of the victim.
Copyright © Sean Walton
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Tome 1
The numbing sensation spread up my arm. Frantically, I yanked and jerked at my
hand -- nothing. I saw a laser cutting tool on the floor next to me and reached for it and
turned it on. The opalescent beam flashed out, and I turned it to my arm.
<Don't!>
The beam was just about to make me a lefty when I heard it. It was something I
"felt" rather than "heard". I knew that it was from Ronde, but didn't know how I knew it.
I let the laser fall, and it immediately shut off as it left my grasp. I sat there shocked and
confused.
<I will not harm you. I am Ronde. I have a message.>
Before I could respond, a flood of information and images filled my body. You'd
think that the mind is the center of all thought and memory, but I can attest, from this
experience, that is a false belief. My whole body received experiences, knowledge, and
images. However, a few images did stand out: a woman with a soft face and penetrating
eyes, a large castle, and a law stating: [any enclosed space has an infinite number of
entrances and exits].
<I need your help. Please come.>
With that, the panel faded. I quickly checked my hand, rubbing the sensation back
into it and looking at the now powerless robot. It didn't kill me! I sat there baffled. But,
I thought that. . . .
"You, Tome, have five minutes left."
I was sitting here for twenty five minutes? Then the understanding came: he wasn't
planning to use Ronde as the executioner. A new urgency came into me: I must get out of
here! But how? The physical law came back to me. An infinite number of exits? How?
[Dimensions. Dimensions are, in theory, realities concurrently running with the
presently known reality.] Dimensions, huh? I have heard a little about these things.
Basically, the rationale for their existence is based on the pre-twenty-first century
ignorance of other planetary life. In other words, it is rather ignorant to assume only one
existing reality. But that was the limit of my knowledge.
Then I thought about the ready answers I was getting. These answers came as
quickly as I asked them. Whose thoughts do I have because of Ronde? I had to shove
that question back--I had to get out of there, and I didn't have the time for frivolous
questions!
Now for the next question: how do I use dimensions to get out of here?
[If a path or link could be connected between two known realities (an entrance and an
exit), a transitory conjunction could theoretically be realized.] Huh? Oh, think of a place
and link them? Who is answering? It must be a residual of Ronde in my memory. This
is ridiculous--how the hell do I find the exit? Another physical law came to me: [a
doorway from one dimensional sphere to another would be viewed by its observers to be
a hole where all that enters never leaves]. But that's a black hole. The whole idea's
insane; besides, I don't have a black hole in here. It's not something I've always wanted to
carry in my shirt pocket! It does have some rather detrimental effects on the carrier.
"One minute, Tome!"
"Willy, do you mind? You're time-keeping is driving me nuts." Weird robot!
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Tome 1
[The mind is a powerful instrument. It is possible to conceive that it can traverse
dimensions.] I knew there wasn't much time, but I couldn't believe that tripe! But with
seconds left of life, I figured what the hell. I imagined the castle (hoping that was another
dimension) and mentally drew a line to the Workbench doorway. Nothing happened.
Why not?
"Ten seconds."
No time. I tried again on the wall in front of me. Something changed. I thought that
my eyes were playing tricks on me: I thought I saw a castle through the wall.
"Five. . . four. . . three. . . two. . . one. . . . "
In desperation, I ran for the wall.
Copyright © Sean Walton
7
Tome 1
Some Abduction? Uh, No Thank You
I went through it! I vaguely remembering hearing the low "wump" of a contained
explosion "behind" me. "Behind" was now a relative term, because I now stood in front
of the castle--the very image Ronde placed in my mind. I was laying face down arms
extended under a tree looking directly at the edifice. The breeze was fresh and carried a
slight smell of sod.
I sat up in the grass, exhausted. I had thought this was going to be another sequential,
boring day--boy, was I disappointed. My boss gets on my case, my weird working
companion tries to kill me (how am I so sure that I am not really dead?), and an assassin
robot fills my brain with dribbling idiocy. Now, I don't know where the hell I am. Well,
I've worked my week of problems; I can go home now.
"ithhumml yoasd eruibnec wosase!"
I looked up and saw a wide double-edge sword pointing down at me. The sword led
up to a very impressive (oppressive?) man garbed from head to foot in metal. Well,
Tome, you always wanted excitement--I thought to myself. Why did I get up this
morning?
Well, it was apparent that the man babbling in some foreign tongue wanted
something (my money, my attention, my life--out of the frying pan. . . ?). "Im hause
somedw?" Wait a minute. I wanted to say "What do you want?" but gibberish came out.
"Shommela wqaer ehpdt notye sxadt!"
He wants me to tell him what am I doing here. This is so very confusing! I can and
cannot understand him at the same time. Not again! Ronde's memory! I'm
understanding through him. Well, I'm in this mess because of him; I might as well let
him lead me.
"Poas ohaping from an assassin."
"Jusd poas see any assatgup."
Well, it worked. I'm beginning to understand my confronter. So, I decided to "chat"
more, but the guard (I found out) was not interested in "chatting". Rather, he was more
interested in my strange garb and taking me by sword point into the castle. All the while,
the fragments he spoke to me helped me understand the language more and more. By the
time we got to the gate leading to the outer wall, I was conversant in this archaic
language.
"How did you find me?" I continued in the newly found tongue. I was intrigued and
somewhat delighted by how quickly I had learned the language.
"I heard a loud noise from your direction and went to investigate," he responded,
monotonically.
For a brute his size, he had an impressive vocabulary. Oh, well, stereotypes in this
world don't work either. We approached the guards at the gate. I was amazed that there
were no machines in sight. This must be what is meant by a "backwater world." "Where
are you taking me?" I asked.
"No more questions. You will be silent--dead or alive. Understood?" The sword
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Tome 1
reaffirmed the point.
Getting the hint, I shut up and listened as others around me spoke. It was like I was
learning a new language for each person, but I was able to pick it up very quickly. Then
it struck me: I had learned one language from one person, but I have to learn a new
language for each new person. Yet, they understand each other. Don't they speak a
common language? [Communication skills are highly dependent on a being's thought
patterns. Based on this fact, a "personal language" which can only be understood by
those who think alike is plausible. Since no one can think completely like anyone else,
there are effectively as many languages as there are beings.] What? What's that supposed
to mean? These new concepts that kept coming to mind were really beginning to get on
my nerves--especially when I could not understand what they meant. It kind of reminded
me of when I was in my calculus class--nothing but confusing gibberish.
My attention shifted to those who were around me. It seems that I was being
considered a very dangerous person by this point, because along with some ten guards
that were encompassing me there was a growing number of townspeople following us.
Naturally, I suspected my strange clothing of drawing on their illicit curiosity, but quickly
there was another tenor. As soon as the crowd became large enough for support, a cry
went up. I could not understand exactly what was said, but it sounded like I was being
accused for abducting someone.
"That's the man! He took Amelda!"
A large man approached us. His mannerisms decidedly indicated some high position,
perhaps a governor or an archaic king. He wore relatively fine material (compared to
what everyone else was wearing) and had a heavy, black beard. His stomach slouched
over his belt easily by five centimeters. Wonderful! I was being accused by an unruly
crowd and here is my second executioner for the day. No doubt this was a Monday from
somewhere seeking its vengeance on me for all the uneventful things that have happened
in my life.
"I was attracted by the sound of a thunderclap. I went dutifully to investigate and
found this man sitting leisurely just outside the wall under a tree. He claims to be
escaping from an assassin," the first guard reported after forcing himself to attention and
throwing his shoulders back.
I was amused by the guard's overstated eloquence. But, the governor/king did not
find it so amusing--he leveled a steady gaze on me. The look he gave was like someone
had walked through his prize patch of pansies, and he had finally found the perpetrator-me!
"What's so funny, young man?" the statesman demanded.
Oops, I guess the analogy influenced me more consciously than I wanted. I had to
make amends and fast!
"Excuse me, sir! I just found the guard's report amusingly exaggerated." I said
pointing to the guard.
"What did he say?" The guard asked with some confusion letting his shoulders fall a
bit. What confuse him, I had not a single notion.
I decided not to make too many enemies in this world (perhaps, a little too late), and
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Tome 1
tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, I find your report a little blown out of proportion." I said to
the perplexed guard.
"Are you calling me a liar?" A hand cuffed me on one cheek. I flew backward
almost three meters, landing on the other one. Well, that keeps me from needing to turn
it. But, before I could return the favor by venting my accumulated frustration on the
offender, a mass of restraining hands came down on me.
"What did he say to you?" It was the statesman turn to be confused.
"He was calling me a liar."
"Oh, that! You do tend to exaggerate," the statesman said with a slight twinkle in his
eye. The guard mirrored that twinkle toward me, but it was not so much from
amusement. Two men (I think they were something like seconds in command)
surrounded the statesman apparently offering advise concerning me while the official
combed his beard with his fingers.
While they were having discussion, I had regained some of my composure and was
trying to understand why everyone was not understanding me. But, they were--only one
at a time! That did not make any sense! Language is language. Apparently, I know this
language from Ronde's memory, so when I talk, everyone who speaks that language
should understand. Shouldn't they?
It was easy to see that everyone did not know what to think of me. The governor (I
found this out from side comments) motioned the restraining guards to take me
somewhere. They obeyed by literally carrying me up some stairs feet first. At least they
weren't going to take me to their dungeons.
We turned a corner and started down other stairs. Oops, I guess I was wrong. They
threw me into a small, unclean, dark cell that smelled of urine, feces, and decay. I landed
on something soft and mushy. I almost lost my breakfast. What was that I said about
"out of the frying pan. . . "? The door closed with a loud thud, and I heard a tinkling of
metal and something being inserted into the door.
I got up and cleaned the rude mess from my seat. I went to the door and found it
securely immobile. Tracing the limits of my new cell (I'm referring to the Workbench as
my first), I kept going over in my mind what happened in the court yard. When I spoke,
only one person understood me. Yet I was speaking the language Ronde had implanted in
my mind. Or was I? Maybe this was the false premise. If only one person can
understand me at once, this must mean there is some other vehicle beside a spoken
language.
The idea was impossible. I've never exhibited telepathy before in my life. My line of
thought was interrupted when part of the cell wall gave before my hand. Let me rephrase
that: I came to a point where it looked like a wall, but it had no substance. An illusion in
a world where technology is a sword and metal suits? Where am I?
The decision to enter had been made back when I was in the Workbench. I knew
now that I was still alive: my face still ached from being slapped around. But the
reasoning remained--it had been a wonderfully boring life.
I walked through the "wall" and found myself in a corridor. The smell of the
dungeon did not follow me other than in my clothes--and boy, did they stink! There was
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Tome 1
more light in this passage, so I could see pretty far. I rounded a corner and found myself
in a large room. The light blinded me for a minute, but I could see the governor sitting on
something like a throne at the other end of the hall. The dungeon leads directly into the
throne room?! This people had strange ideas about incarceration.
The governor motioned to me. Well, he saw me, he'll probably know that there is
something wrong--I mean after all, he did lock me up. I walked up to him, undaunted by
the number of guards in the room. As I approached, the wind following me made the
governor wince slightly.
"We have been expecting you, wizard."
Huh? They think me to be a sorcerer of some sort. Come on! I'm just a robot
refurbisher. If that's wizardry, then I have not been paid enough.
"I realize that you came from a far land. And you must be tired. I will arrange a
room and bath, and we can discuss matters this afternoon," he continued.
Matters? What matters? Before I could ask, four guards approached and "led"
("forced" perhaps?) me to another room. Apparently, they still did not trust me even with
the venerable title of wizard, because the guards surrounded me. Trying to talk to my
escort was like talking to a powerless robot--interesting but completely one-way.
The room they put me in was incredibly ornate. I was tempted to tip them for their
efforts, until the tinkling metal immobilized the door, leaving me standing alone. Once
again I traced the room around, but this time found nothing unusual. As I neared an open
entrance, I heard water being poured. I looked in and found a very large tub being filled,
urn by urn, with steaming hot water. I watched, mesmerized by the prospect of getting
into something to which I was accustomed: cleanliness!
When the workers finished, they all left, leaving me alone to a luxurious bubble bath.
Without hesitation, I began undressing. I was about to take off my pants when I heard a
noise. I shot a look toward the sound. There, standing before me, was a beautiful girl
with dark brown hair, very scantily clad (believe me, my description was very generous).
I had to avert my eyes to keep from staring.
"Do I not please you?" she asked innocently with a soft, girlish voice.
"All too well. But, I did not know that my bath was to include a scrubber."
"A what? Oh, no, I am to be your nocturnal stimulation."
Nocturnal stimul. . . ? What an interesting euphemism! "Uh, I don't need to be
stimulated tonight. I only wish to bathe and sleep," I said, still not looking at her and
feeling a small blush coming on (like from head to toe).
"Do I not please you?" she repeated with a pout, "Why don't you look upon me?"
She is really making this difficult, I thought. "I, uh, I mean. . . no thanks." I said
stammering, then I continued: "Please, I would like to bathe before it gets cold."
Finally getting the hint, she left. I let my eyes wonder over to her direction as she
left. My intents were purely calculated--I wanted to make sure she left before exposing
myself. Still, the view I saw was both incredible and difficult to describe--fortunately,
she left. I pulled off my pants and sunk down into the caressing water. The bath was
wonderful; when I was finished, I grabbed a towel and proceeded to dry myself off.
There was a giggle from the doorway. Quickly, I wrapped myself up (almost tripping
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Tome 1
myself) and glared at the on-looker.
"Never have I seen so much hair on a man's body!" The evening entertainer said with
a giggle.
"Do you mind? Can't you see that I want to have privacy?"
"Yes and no. But, I will be waiting in bed for you."
"Bed? Oh, no, you don't!" I started to follow her but realized what I was doing and
stopped. "Let me make myself perfectly clear! I do not want your 'nocturnal favors'! Do
you understand me?"
"You really mean it!" She said with obvious disappointment
"Of course I do! Now, please leave!"
She looked at me, kind of hurt and kind of curious. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I
knew that she would take that to mean consent. So, I had to stay firm. She looked at me
for a good long time, but then finally turned and left.
When I heard the door close, I hurried and found my clothes. I found them clean and
almost like new. Even though I looked strange to the people here, they must have
respected my choice in garments. How they took my clothing, cleaned it, and returned it
so quickly was beyond my comprehension.
"Guards!" I yelled, as I entered the main room of my "suite." I was still fixing my tie
when they came in. I realized that I must be very strange looking.
"First, did that young lady leave?" I asked them, still fumbling with my tie.
"Yes, sir," they responded in unison.
I stopped in mid-stoke of making the knot in my tie and stood there. Hold it! They
both understood me! Maybe I was over that malady that kept me from communicating
with everyone. Finishing the last stroke, I walked over to them.
"Sir," said one, "would you like us to fetch her?"
"No, that won't be necessary."
"Yes, sir," he replied.
The other guard looked uncomprehendingly at the other. I noticed, and my hopes
sank. But, I had been able to communicate with both of them somehow. So, I tried a
little experiment.
Picking out the second, I asked, "Did you understand what I said to your
companion?"
The guard looked fearfully at me and said, "No, sir."
I looked at the other and asked motioning to the other, "What did I say to him?"
"I don't know, sir. I could not understand your tongue."
This confirmed what I suspected before, but now the final test: "What are your
names?"
"Thomas, sir."
"Wilken, sir."
I noted the difference. "Thank you both. When is dinner? I'm starved."
"In an hour, sir," Wilken said.
"That will be all," I said dismissing them. They walked out without any other cue.
When I focus on one, only he understands, while the others do not. However, when I
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focus on both, they both understand. Very interesting. What a pain!
This is probably what is meant by a "personal language," I thought to myself. I spent
the hour looking at the images on the walls of my suite and exploring the various rooms.
At first I was impressed by the ornateness, but now I was impressed by the overall
immensity of the rooms. How could they fit all of this and the rest of the rooms in the
castle? This literally must be the royal suite. A knock on the door brought me back to
reality--or whatever current reality I now existed.
"Sir," Wilken entered and said, "the governor requests your presence at dinner."
Certainly a formal way to tell someone that dinner's ready. "Tome. My name is
Tome," I told him, "I'll be right there." I looked in a large mirror on the wall, making sure
that everything was acceptable (from my world's viewpoint, at least). (As far as I knew
this people would find my wearing clothes backwards as amusing as wearing them
normally--I mean, I was the oddball.) Satisfied, I went to the door and opened it.
The guards led me down the hallway to another large room, and we were greeted by
the aroma of roasted meat and badly fermented liquor. There appeared to be seated the
whole populace--there were hundreds of people. This place certainly takes town council
a little far. But at least no one went hungry. We sat at the far end of the hall. When I say
"far end," I mean I had to strain to see those seated at the other end.
The table the guards sat me at was what could be considered the dean's table. Seated
in the center was the governor. I had some questions for him, but I got the distinct feeling
that this was the wrong time to ask. When the governor saw that I was looking at him, he
nodded, acknowledging me.
I sat at the table and looked around. Everyone was looking at me, but the stares were
not pleasant. I began to get an uneasy feeling about all of this. The governor stood to
speak. Most of the gazes turned to him, but every once in a while, dark eyes flashed at
me. Meanwhile, the governor began speaking.
"My people, my friends, my family," he said, pretty much a standard introduction.
However, there was an urgency in his voice: he really wanted to say something, not just a
benediction.
"We, as a people and country, have enjoyed prosperity for centuries. In kindness
have we treated those outside our country. We have shown them mercy for any
discomfort, and by trade and land agreements we have shown our friendship."
Superficially, this was a good praise issue, but underneath there were laser blasts of
emotions. I became more and more uneasy--somehow this gathering was because of my
arrival. The governor went on to talk about other things, like the prosperity they had
enjoyed and what they as a country had done for others, extolling each act.
"Two months ago--to this date--our head and local leader fell ill. Soon, she still
breathed, but there was no essence in her. An evil man came to us and said that he would
return unto us our queen if we would but pay him half of the worth of the kingdom. We
gladly did this and awaited his miracle. He never returned. Today, my family, we have
this man before us!"
My heart stopped. Angry voices clamored from the walls, and men drew their
swords. Some raised their bows and knocked arrows. I tell you, heartless murder by a
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robot was far more acceptable than a heated crowd ready for a lynching.
"Gentlemen! Ladies! Please!" the governor yelled above the noise. All with one
accord were silenced and heeded their standing leader. "This man here will have two
days to restore the health of our beloved queen, or he will suffer a horrible death!" Most
agreed to this proposal, while the others who wanted instant death cried out. "Those that
want his head now: how can we get our beloved queen back if the only one who can do
this is put away? Does it not make more sense to let him prove himself, than to commit
senseless murder? If he does not restore her, then he is yours for your pleasure!"
I was now certain that this was going to be a bad week. We ate pleasantly. I even
received some smiles from the crowd. Now, these smiles were far from sane--perhaps
bloodthirsty? I decided that I was definitely going to have to talk to the governor about
my living conditions here.
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Tome 1
What Do You Mean Cockroaches Are a Delicacy?
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.
"Meaning of what, charlatan?" The governor returned.
I was trying not to concentrate my comments so that the others around me could
completely understand me. "I was never here before this date! Do I even look like this
user?" Oops, the wrong thing to say: I may look very much like him.
"No, you don't look like him."
"Wha. . would you like to repeat yourself?"
"I said that you do not look like him, but that does not mean anything to a wizard,
does it?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a wizard! You passed through the magic gate!"
"What the hell are you talking about? What magic gate?"
"Oh, charlatan, you fool! The wall that you passed through in the dungeon only
permits those who have magic. And, those who possess magic can sense it. You did not
take very long to find it, now did you?"
"I found it because I was searching the walls. Have you tried the wall yourself? No?
I thought so. The first rule of cages is to know the limits of it." Wait a minute. Where
did I get that rule? Well it made sense, so I stuck to it.
"Well, there's the girl!" He sputtered.
"What about her?"
"She said that you treated her just like the first time!"
"He spurned her? This character does not sound like the type to do that!"
"You spurned her? But, she said that you raped her!" He was clearly confused and
frustrated.
"No, she tried to throw herself at me--twice! I told her that I did not want her
'entertainments'."
"Fetch that wench!" The governor yelled at two of the guards. Within minutes, the
girl stood in front of them. Her hair was messy and it covered her face; she did not look
at me.
"Woman, did this man do as you had told me?"
The woman did not answer. She stood there, a pathetic sight.
"Answer me, wench!"
"No, sir." She said softly.
"Take her away!"
"Where are you taking her?" I demanded.
"Misrepresentation is a crime for death."
"Stop! There must be some way to circumvent this," I found myself pleading with
the governor.
The stance shocked the governor, but he lifted his hand. "You want to drop the
charges against her?" He asked incredulously.
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"I do not want her to die on account of me. Yes, I want the charges dropped."
The governor's jaw dropped. "But, her testimony could have killed you!" Seeing my
resolve, he turned to her: "woman, your life is now his. You are forever in his debt."
"Now, what a minute!"
"Do you wish to retract your forgiveness? No? In our land, we have an unwritten
law that if a man interposes an execution, retracting an accusation, the offender is from
that time in a life-debt with the forgiver."
"But, every man and woman should be free! I don't want a slave!"
"Nevertheless, it is done. We will now prove your other theory."
What other theory? Oh, no, the wall! What if I (an outworlder) am able to pass
through the wall, because I don't belong here. We walked down to the cell and entered.
Finally, light was provided to see the things that were in the cell. Mostly, it was straw
and dirt and rats and feces and. . . Yuck! I turned my attention to the governor trying not
to be nauseated. Thoughts ran through my mind: how could I stop him from trying it.
"Here it is. Now, I put forth my hand and. . . " He went through. He reappeared
sputtering and confused. "You mean to tell me that this test has been ineffective all this
time?"
Relief filling me I said, "I guess it is," reaching up to lean against a dirty wall self
satisfied. But, the wall felt strange. When I touched it, it felt a warm cold. Taking a
torch from one of the three guards, I turned toward it and inspected it with fire-light.
"I'm sorry for all of this, it's just we have been so desperate lately," the governor was
saying. Then he stopped and watched me. "What's the matter?"
"This wall, it's warm."
Reaching out, the governor touched the stone wall. "Are you feeling well? This wall
is dead cold."
"No, it's warm I tell you." I pushed my hand against it, and it gave, passing my hand
through like I was pushing into mud. Ever make a mistake before that you know you are
going to regret for the rest of your--soon to be short--life? I've had two of those today:
one now and the other just showing up to work.
"You really are a wizard!" He said backing away. "And all those others? I
sentenced all those. . . and they were really innocent! Oh, horrible, horrible! But, you
really are a wizard!" Fear serrated his voice as he stared at me.
Well, I might as well throw caution to the wind. "Let's find out where this goes."
"Well I, uh, don't. . . think. . . "
"What are you afraid of? Do you want to lose your primary suspect?"
"Well,. . . we know you are innocent. . . " He stammered.
"You were looking for a scapegoat. Also, weren't you looking for a wizard?"
"The man that came to us is no wizard. . . " he said softly enough for me only to hear.
I pulled my hand back and glared at him. "What do you mean he was no wizard?
Did you test him like you did me?"
"No, he told me that he was a wizard," he said chagrined.
"And you took his word for it?" I was almost screaming at him. Seeing his reaction,
I almost pitied him. Instead, I grabbed his arm and said, "You come with me!" The
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guards were too slow to stop me.
I pushed through the wall with the governor trailing behind me before he could
protest. When we were on the other side of the wall, again there was a noticeable odor
change. But, this time it was from bad to worse. There was terrible decay, smell of
bloated corpse.
In the fire-light, I could see a sign of recognition in the governor's countenance. "No,
don't take me here! I don't want to see her!"
"See who? You mean to tell me that she really is dead? What kind of chicanery are
you doing?" Then it dawned on me: "She died naturally. But, you were afraid that if
someone else were to find out, you would loose the kingdom. That is why you could not
understand why I extended mercy to that wench! You have been selfish all these years
that you are unaccustomed to the trait. You truly are a miserable man!"
The man before me was trembling with anger, fear and anguish: truly a pitiful sight!
"How dare you. . . How dare," he sputtered and sobbed.
I let him talk. He was going through some turmoil; I had said enough, and I figured
that the only help I could give was a listening ear.
He stopped, tried to speak, and then said, "how. . . how can you say that?"
I couldn't answer him, but I understood his anguish. I wanted to reach out and help
him but couldn't. [Some men learn only by suffering.]
"When she died, it tore me apart; I didn't want to accept it. Her mother on her
deathbed made me swear to take care of her. She was like a daughter to me. I lost. . . my
dau. . . " He broke off and sobbed again.
"Come, we must bury the dead."
I walked him down the hallway. As we approached an open portal, the smell became
almost unbearable. But, we still walked and entered the room (almost gagging). The
room was circular with a large supported slab of granite. Laid out on the slab was a
corpse covered with a sheet of gangrenous mold. The sight was nauseating, at the very
least. All these weeks, a man refused to let his adopted daughter go.
The governor seemed to regain his senses at the sight of the corpse. "You are wrong,
wizard. I did not want her office, I wanted her. I could not accept her death. How can
something so precious die? Can't you see her beauty?"
I looked at the corpse and could not possibly see any beauty in the moldering mess. I
began to doubt his sanity for a moment, but anguish carried too far is insane.
"Wait, you are a wizard! You can restore her! Please, oh, please! Bring my daughter
back!" He was on his knees begging with me. The posture reminded me of what I went
through to free the wench, but this time I was the judge.
I felt so horrible. I was the pivot for his happiness or misery. The claim that I am a
wizard is not true. I don't know what the wall means, but I am a confused outworlder not
a weird sorcerer. I reached down and lifted the man up.
"You granted the life of that wench, but like you, I cannot grant the life of one that is
already dead. Why do you want her back? For you? Have you considered that she might
be happier in some other dimension? If she is happier there, why bring her back? You
must think of her not of yourself."
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"What will I tell the people? I have lead them to believe that she is under a spell."
"I think that you tell them everything. You underestimate your people here; I think
they will understand and will console you." Look at me! I'm suddenly a psychologist for
humans--too bad I can't charge for this service. But, they'd probably think it tacky.
"But, you're a sorcerer! You can bring her back!"
"How many times do I have to tell you that I can't say 'sleeper awake' to even wake
up my own brother! I am not a sorc. . . " I was cut off suddenly by the expression on the
governor's face. I looked to see what he was staring at. In the center of the room, a light
gathered around the corpse centering on what was its chest. It intensified becoming too
difficult look upon, the light cuttingly bright like an old-fashioned welding laser.
Futilely, we both tried to shade our eyes with our hands. I blinked a couple times trying
to shake the afterimage in my eyes. Finally, the light faded leaving an empty slab.
"What have you done with her? Please tell me! I will bury her like you said. Just
bring her back!" He was back on his knees pulling at my jacket, weeping openly.
"I didn't do anything! I'm not a sorcerer!"
"Uncle, burying me won't be necessary," came a gentle voice from the corridor.
We turned to look upon the most beautiful woman I had ever seen--the very woman I
saw in Ronde's images. "But, how?" I could only manage. I was beginning to believe
the governor for a minute, but then dismissed it with coincidence. But, this was some
coincidence!
Uncle and daughter embraced and completely forgot about me, which was perfectly
fine. I was far too caught up in the possibility of being a sorcerer. I walked toward the
slab in a daze. I felt a wrenching inside and found myself outside the castle again. It
didn't register that I had just taken a giant leap from one place to another: I was too caught
up in my thoughts. I looked around and found myself alone, so I sat down in the grass-under the very tree where I started this whole trip, but that didn't register either. Yes, I
like to sit in the grass: it's so calming--especially after a day like I've had.
"What are you doing here?" I heard the voice again.
Oh, no, not again! I don't really want to talk to that guard right now--it would not
make my day any better. I looked up, and instead of a sword, I saw a man garbed in a
dark cloak his face hidden. Things were so strange around here I didn't think much of it.
"Sitting. Who are you?" I know: I'm being flippant. But, would you be peaches and
cream after a day like I had?
"I am here to restore the queen." My insolent reply did not even shake him.
"You're too late. . . wait, you're the one that was hired to do that!" The realization
shifted my introspection to ire. I was accused of some charlatan's actions, sentence to
death unless I would deliver the goods (which the accusers knew I couldn't do), and now
the very offender stood in front of me.
"Brilliant deduction, knave. What do you mean I'm too late?" I smiled knowingly, I
really wanted to show up this highwayman.
"I did it. I said: 'sleeper awake' and she awoke!" I said with pride.
The robed stood there for a moment without saying a word and then started to laugh.
At first, I was stunned. You'd expect the man to at least fume for his own incompetence
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or at least for my flippancy. But instead, he laughed.
"What are you laughing at? I'm telling the truth!" Now I was getting a little agitated.
"Oh, I don't doubt that you think it the truth! Stand, knave!" I stood and he put his
arm around my shoulders and proceeded to walk me away from the castle.
Slowly the realization came over me with a little awe. "You mean to tell me that you
did it?" I asked, with a mixture of emotions (disappointment and relief being two). He
didn't answer, but continued to laugh jovially as we walked away from the castle.
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Tome 1
What's Wrong With My Clothes?
"Who are you?" I don't find it normal for a man to take me home without at least
telling me his name first. I mean, after all, I was a stranger in an extra-strange world. I
met this guy while sitting in front of a castle that accused me of taking their money for
chicanery. What's worse is this refurbished robot salesman was telling me that he was the
one they had hired. Now he tells me that he actually did bring the girl back to life--in
absentia!
My new query only refreshed his laugh. We had been walking for some time. Soon,
he was able to compose himself and speak somewhat rationally. "My name is Oper.
What is yours, knave?"
"Tome, like a book and stop calling me a knave!" His humor was getting on my
nerves. And why was he calling me a knave? What is a knave?
"You, my friend, have quite an interesting sense of humor," he said tightening the
grip he had on my shoulder. I still did not understand why he had his arm on my
shoulder, but I decided not to object. "Your innocence amuses me."
"Look, I am not here for your amusement. I decided today to go into work--even
though it was Monday--and have a 'regular' work day. But, much to my surprise, I found
that my assistant had decided to kill me! Next, I find out that my personal project was an
executioner, but it decided to place its memory in my head! I was able to escape one
execution and enter another when I slipped through a wall! If that isn't enough, I am now
walking with the very man who I am accused for! If you think that is funny, go throw
road apples!" Yes, I was mad. I hoped secretly that he would stop the inane laughter and
take me seriously.
He looked like he was about to laugh, so I stopped walking. He stopped with me and
looked at me. I really wanted to hit something! But, looking at the figure standing before
me, the thought could never reach the action. First of all, he never meant any harm.
Second, he was about thirty centimeters taller than I. Personally, the second was the
greater deterrent.
After a time (it felt like an hour), he pulled back his hood. It was incredible! It was
like I was seeing my double! He looked exactly like me! But, how? I could do nothing
but stand there agape.
"Yes, it is strange," he said. "When I saw you sitting there I was amazed at the
resemblance too. Perhaps it means something. But, appearances are not all. You, too,
have the gift of personal language but have not yet learned how and when to use it."
"The governor said that you and I did not look alike," I said still confused.
"How are you sure that someone can remember resemblances over so many months?"
"Good point. By the way, where are you taking me?"
"Well, that remains to be seen, Tome. You see, you are apparently a stranger in this
country. So, where I take you depends entirely on whether you want to stay here."
"Well, I guess I do. . . well, I don't know. This is a bit much for a new comer." How
right he was! Not only was I a stranger, but I was unwittingly an interdimensional
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traveler. For now, I could not trust him with the fact that I was from really out-of-town.
So, I decided to "deviate" the course of the conversation. "How did you restore the
queen? That really was quite dramatic."
He waived his hand, dismissing the question. "That is not important. What is
important is your existence here. Do you want to stay or don't you?"
Well, we were stuck with this topic, but at least he wasn't going to ask me where I
was from--that would be difficult to explain. And, why did he have to make it so final? I
mean I may want to stay, and then return to my home world. The problem was that if
Willy the femme robot discovered my existence, he would stop at nothing to get rid of me
again! And, I can't quite "pop" over to an entirely different plane, because I only know
this one and my home. Some home! Part undirected boredom and part homicidal
maniac.
"Stay, I guess."
"Good, now lets get you some more appropriate clothing. If you had been the same
size as me, we would have little problem. But. . . "
"What are you talking about? You're massive! How would extra height help the
situation? You must have everything tailor fitted!"
"Isn't that how it's always done? How do you get apparel?"
"Well, I. . . Oh, never mind, just tell me how to get me some 'appropriate clothing.'"
He looked at me for a second and said, "there is a road over there. Take it going
south. Soon you will find an inn, go in and ask for a seamster. Tell him that I set you."
He turned and started walking the other way.
"Hey, wait a minute! Where are you going?" I yelled after him. He didn't stop. I
didn't know what to do. Should I run after him or go like he directed. It is very hard to
give up even an acquaintance--especially when that's all you have. After he was out of
sight, I realized that I had no money.
Wonderful. I turned and headed for the road. I wonder if I will ever see him again?
Probably. He is difficult to ignore!
I found the road as he had said and proceeded southward. Why did he leave? Did I
say something? Was it my bad breath? I checked. Yea, that must have been it.
The land was basically covered with tall grasses with some trees here and there-especially along the sides of the roads. One would expect that you'd want to be in the
open so that you could see whether you were being followed, but apparently that wasn't
desirable here. The trees on the other hand did provide much needed shade from the sun,
still I wonder.
I walked some distance and found a shack that could barely house a ghost. It was
surrounded sparsely by trees and seemed pretty much the only thing around. Yet, I
walked a little further, expecting to find another house (hopefully less mean-looking).
After about an hour, I was beginning to wonder whether that guy had told me wrong. I
remembered about the old shack. No, that couldn't be it. I stopped and looked up and
down the road. As far as I could see there were no other houses. Well, it can't hurt to try.
When I got there it looked worse than before. The building had two stories and a
roof reaching out over a slender porch which was supported by thin pillars. The porch
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was raised above the ground with steps leading up to it. From all the neglect and weather
damage, it looked like it could support a baby much the less an adult. I was not
impressed! I looked around the house and found it as bad (or worse) than I expected. I
stood in front of it for a minute and considered whether to go in. It did not look very
secure--as a matter of fact I wondered what was keeping it from falling apart.
I stood in front of the building thinking. Some of the windows were broken while
others were missing entirely. The roof itself didn't look very safe for those seeking
shelter. Overall, it looked empty. Should I go into such a dump if there were anybody
home? I mean it did not look safe! I must have stood there a lot longer that a minute,
because my feet began to ache. I was not used to walking such distances. Should I go in?
Oh, what could it hurt? I repeated.
I walked up the stairs to the porch and banged on the door fully expecting it to fall off
its hinges. As my hand touched the door, a ripple when out from the point of contact. It
was like I had thrown a rock into a pond and was watching the waves mar the surface.
After the waves were gone, I saw a handsome building standing in the place of the old
wretch. The wood was fresh and smelled pleasant; the metal finishes were polished and
bright. I knocked again.
The door swung open revealing an aged man in his middle hundreds. He was short,
standing about a hundred and thirty centimeters, balding, and could not weigh more than
forty kilos. He had the most unusual apparel. His shoes were black that had a brass
square-within-a-square buckle. He had nickers and long stockings. The vest was fresh
and clean but was baggy and was probably meant for a man with a sizeable waist.
His fingers and cheeks were bony and hollow. Something about him made me think
of the house before I rapped on the door. He looked interestedly at me but did not say a
word. I stood awkwardly no knowing what to say.
"Ex. . Excuse me, sir?" I finally managed. "I need some garments. Do you know a
tailor?" I felt like a little boy, out on his own for the first time. You know, when your
school was having contests of sorts and you were required to sell--door to door--their
infantile baubles.
He just looked at me, like he did not understand me. What could I say? Then an idea
came to me.
"Let me try this again," I began. Then, offering my hand, I said, "I am Tome. Do
you have a tailor?" When I offered my hand, the man reached out and grabbed it eagerly.
I was shocked at the power in such a weak looking hand. I looked again and saw a young
man shaking my hand. Even though my theory was correct, the change took me more by
surprise than when the house changed. I stood there dumbly, receiving a vigorous
handshake from an old/young man in a decrepit/new house.
"Please come in," he said smiling. "I have been waiting a long time for a visitor. Oh,
yes, you need a taylor! And, no doubt you are hungry; and you must stay the night!" His
vibrancy was rather overwhelming. He lead me over to a table, sat me near the fire and
absently wiped an immaculate table.
Before I could say anything, the young keeper was off walking quickly into the
backroom. I took off my work shoes and stretched in front of the fire. Well, I might as
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well enjoy the hospitality. Then, I remembered that I did not have any money. I felt a
twang of guilt in the pit of my stomach (or was that hunger?).
The keeper rushed out with a bowl of fresh stew and bread. He set them carefully in
front of me and stood there expectantly. The guilt worsened. I looked up at him. What I
saw made the situation more difficult than ever.
"Keeper, um. . . after I eat, is there something I do to pay for your hospitality? What I
mean to say is I have no money." I felt like a cad. How could I have been so callous?
"My dear patron, I have not received a customer for many years. This meal for you
will be free."
"But. . . "
He put up his hand. "I insist. You've had a difficult day; sit, eat and enjoy yourself."
I couldn't argue. I had probably the most difficult day in a long time. It isn't often
when one gets a life threat twice on a single day. Wait a minute! How did he know that I
had an interesting day? Before I could ask, he was off again doing something else. I
brushed off the question thinking it a coincidence.
I sipped some of the soup with a carved wooden spoon. It was incredibly delicious!
The meat was soft and savory. It was like he expected me.
When that thought entered my mind, I stopped in mid-slurp. What is going on
around here? Double illusions (however, a bit predictable), no-pay board and probably
room. . . what does he want from me? I can't quite give him much, anything of value I
left back home. I resumed eating, contemplating the current enigma.
The keeper returned with a plate of meat and a large flagon of some frothy liquid and
placed them in front of me. I was really getting worried now, because I was getting the
high-paying guest treatment. How am I going to pay for all of this? Even though he said
this was gratis, I still felt like I should do something for him. He did say that I was his
first costumer for many years.
Many years? But, he's only twenty-something! Maybe this all a hallucination. But,
this hallucination was quite delicious. I took another bite of the meat. I could not tell
what kind of meat it was, but it was excellent.
The keeper came out again and asked, "is everything all right?"
You know I always hate it when a waitress back home would say the same thing, not
really interested in an answer and usually waiting until my mouth was full before
approaching and asking. But, this time I could tell that he truly was interested. How
could I say anything less than "Excellent!"? With that, he returned to the back room.
This truly was an enigma. I was being treated like a king and not having to pay for it. I
could not stand it any longer.
"Keeper!" I called, after a moment's consideration.
The young man came running out wiping his hands. "Yes, sir?" He asked waiting
patiently for my request.
"I hope you don't mind explaining some things to me," I began, laying down the
spoon and knife down.
"No, sir, I don't mind. Please, ask." His expression was extreme servilitude, waiting
on every word. I'm not really used to this.
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Tome 1
"When I walked by here, I was looking for an inn that had a tailor. At first, I thought
that this was not the place. Then, I decided to try it anyway, couldn't hurt, right? Well, I
knocked and the house went from condemned to new. Next, you came to the door and
you looked as old as the house. . . well, before the change. I shook your hand, and you
changed like the house. Now, both you and the house are fresh and young, and you are
feeding me like a king. But, you know that I cannot pay for the meal. What's going on?"
Even though I was able to say what I wanted to say, I still could not understand any of it.
It made no sense!
The young keeper waited patiently while I explained my exasperation. After I
finished, he paused for a long time. I was beginning to wonder if he actually heard me or
had turned to stone. Finally he spoke, but it was done with a voice of a man of centuries'
experience. This really took me aback.
"I am called the Mirror. I reflect the true nature of a man. If he be good, I return to
him good without hesitation; if he is bad, I return to him bad without hesitation. The
inn's and my appearance are to test your character. No normal man would approach my
house, so only those who are very needy and desperate. You have done good to me, so I
return it to you. This is my consignment for an eternity."
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Tome 1
Excuse Me Mister, Do You Have the Time?
I sat back in my chair. If the chair did not have a back, I would not have felt the fall.
I was frank with him, and he was very frank with me. Yes, he did an excellent job of
explaining himself. Then it hit me. "You accentuate the actions done to you. In a sense,
you are doing a favor for the traveller either way. So, what is expected of me?"
"You are very quick. In order for you to leave, you must do something that I cannot
repay. You were an excellent guest, so I was an excellent host."
Well, now isn't that a pip! How am I going to get out of this one? But, first of all, I
need to get some new clothes. Otherwise, what a mess! I ate quietly, pensively. How am
I going to get myself out of this one! You know, it is Oper's fault. Why did he send me
here? Didn't he know that I would be caught up in another problem?
"Well, what shall we do to get you some new clothes?" He interrupted my thought. I
guess that's only fair, I interrupted his work to talk.
"I just need some clothing reflecting this country. It does not need to be spectacular.
Some ordinary clothes will do." Well, my problem will have to wait until after the
essentials. But, as soon as I get the chance, I will work out this problem. Sounds like
procrastination? Would you know what to do in this situation?
Within about an hour, he had made me a common tunic, rustic pants and a cloak.
They looked loathsome, but I was not used to that style of dress. The shoes where really
no problem, he had some extra pairs in the storage room. The things he was taking out of
the storage room told me that there was more to that house than I expected.
I had given him my old clothes, and he took them graciously. He found the tie the
most interesting. He asked me: "why would anyone want to put a noose around his own
neck?" I really couldn't give him a satisfactory answer. I never could figure out that one
myself. I basically shrugged and went on to think about more important contingencies
like my leaving. This was quite a problem. Unfortunately, Ronde did not give me
intelligence: he only gave me untapped knowledge. Maybe that was it!
"Keeper!" I called again.
"Yes, sir," he hurried out, "what can I do for you?"
Every time he says that now, I realize that he has repaid me or will repay for what
ever I do. This was getting to be an annoyance. "Do you have a library? I wish to do
some reading." In reality (is it possible to say something like that in a world like this and
still be sane?), I was not interested in reading. I wanted to know more about this place.
"Oh, yes, sir! Right up those stairs, down the hall and to your left. But, sir, it is
getting late. Would you like to see your room?" He said persuadingly.
My room? Do I really want to stay here? This could end up being a "Fall of the
House of Usher" if I'm not careful. "Uh, no thanks. I'll think I'll just study for a little
while." Actually, the more I learn about this place the more quickly I can leave. I would
rather sleep outdoors than to stay the night here.
I went upstairs as directed. Everything seemed normal--strangely normal. A thought
came to me. I quietly walked downstairs and checked to see if the keeper was watching.
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All was clear. I crept over to the front door and opened it. Nothing unusual. Looking
outside, I saw the road and the open grasslands beyond. Nothing appeared unusual, but
there was something. . . missing.
There has to be something that would make his claim valid, I thought to myself-unless this is a trick; he is really lying to me. I looked around the house, walking step by
step expecting the keeper to show up at any moment. Nothing unusual! Trapped by word
only!
I kicked absently at a rock resting on the ground. It didn't move. I stopped and
looked at the immobile stone. Reaching down, I grabbed the rock and tried to pick it up.
It wouldn't move. It was like it was being held there by some force from the ground.
Strange! I looked up into the sky and saw the sun. It was about five in the afternoon.
Afternoon? But, it was in the evening! Come on! I've put in a full day. I looked
around a little more and saw some leaves suspended in the air. Curious (oh, how
wonderfully illegal!), I went over to investigate.
They were hanging there in space with nothing to suspend them. I tried to grab one,
but found it as frozen as the rock on the ground. What is happening? [Everything has a
place in time. If time were looked at statically, every object would be fixed. Because,
there would be no TIME to let it move.] You mean to tell me that these things are stuck
in time? Then how am I able to move about, and what about the house? [Time dilation is
effective enough to give that appearance of static time. Yet, those things in the dilation
would be in eternal decay.]
Wonderful. That means the objects around me are not stopped in time, it means that
I am going faster than their reference frame. That is why the house looked condemned
when I approached it. But, as soon as I touched it, I became part of it. So, I would be in
eternal decay also? No. According to the outside reference frame, I would appear to age
and die in a matter of seconds. Then I realized what was missing: I heard nothing, no
birds, no wind, nothing! I've got to get out of here! You know what? I hate riddles!
I walked back to the house and entered. I saw the keeper standing there to meet me.
His arms were crossed and waiting patiently.
"As you can see, only I survive here, because I cannot die. Now that you know the
nature of the curse, you are on your own to figure it out." He turned and left without
saying another word. I wonder how this was a reciprocation? I watched him enter the
back room without saying a word. Oh, boy, I be in big trouble!
I walked back up the stairs and into the library. What am I going to do? I know so
little about this time stuff, and if I did, no doubt I wouldn't get very far in this rustic
world. I wonder how many others have managed to leave this place? I wonder how
many actually survived?
I looked around the library and found a scant number of books--not very impressive.
The books present were very arcane: they were old, not very used and an interesting aura
around them. Now, I am not one for believing in this magic stuff and sorceries, etc. But,
I have seen some very interesting things--things that would make the most adamant
nonbeliever wonder. Still, I noticed something different about those books. One problem
though--they were in another language.
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I took one off the shelf. Even though I was able (to a point) to control my nerves, I
found myself very jumpy as I walked with the book over to a small table with a candle. I
opened the book and flipped through the pages, hoping that I could find something
recognizable.
After about a couple hours (my time), I was getting tired and was getting nowhere.
Not one of the books in their library was readable to me. Even Ronde's memory did not
catch on a single symbol. Frustrated, I ran my fingers through my hair reminiscing back
to when I was studying for those incomprehensible entrance exams.
"I wish someone could explain to me how am I going to get out of this mess," I
wondered aloud. Nothing. You know how when you are almost to giving up, and you
thought perhaps that by saying that, someone suddenly appears when you mention the
wish--I tell you right now that never works! You are only left more frustrated than
before.
I leaned back in my more than uncomfortable chair and let my eyes wonder about. I
thought about the riddle and this time bubble. What could I do that he could not repay
me? He did say that I can only leave if I can find something that he cannot repay. The
only time constraint, as far as I could tell, was the length of my life--and, what a gloomy
prospect.
It also occurred to me that, since we are in the time bubble, I would be almost entirely
alone with him. The reason would be that out there I would only live for a couple
seconds. The probability of someone entering the same place (especially, a place like
this) within a second apart was very small. Great. I am totally alone (according to
probability).
This brought two solutions to mind. Both of which seemed very remote. First, I
could do something for myself. Or, second, I escape from the time bubble. I thought a
little further. The first would not work, because I must do something to him that he
cannot repay. So, that left the second. Wonderful, here I am an intellectual idiot required
to learn all the magics of this world without a single tutor.
In my world, the only "magics" that an outsider could call of any sorts was
technology. Truly said: [technology is magic to a primitive mind.] Another thought
came to me as I reflected back on my own world. If I entered that world, would I be free
from the curse of this one?
Now that seemed promising. But, with all the monitoring devices, I had to choose
one that would not alert Willy of my existence. The Workbench! They only had auditory
communications but no visual! If you can't tell, I was getting excited at being able to
escape this trap.
I thought of the wall where I entered and I connected it to the wall in the library. I
opened my eyes and looked at the wall. Nothing had changed. Again I tried one a
different wall. This time I got a glimmer of something. Focusing and concentrating
more, I saw a bunch of worker robots in the process of cleaning up the room--but they
were not moving. Oh no, not them!
The realization came to me like going from a hot shower to ice water skinny dipping:
they weren't frozen in time, rather I was speeded up. Furthermore, my present state was
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physical not magical. It took magic to get me here! Then, it's going to take magic to get
me out! I can't believe I thought that--this is ridiculous!
I returned the books to the shelves and looked around for other things. I basically
was going on the assumption that it would not be very sporting to supply a riddle and not
supply a solution--especially in this case. Soon I found out from the library that was a
misconception. Perhaps, nobody has been able to escape because there is no solution? I
stopped myself short, because this was one place that was not going to defeat me!
In the process of searching the library, I found a set of small, glass figurines--all
about six centimeters high--inside a (appropriately) glass case. Each was a detailed
human representation. So delicate and fragile looking, I did not want to touch them. The
intricacy of each absolutely intrigued me--they must have been exact likenesses!
I walked out of the library and down the hall. The hall didn't need to be lit because
large windows provided all the light one would want. It cast long (probably eternal)
shadows on the walls and floor. I walked to the window and looked out. I felt like a
prisoner--again. The correlations of each situation I experienced on one single day
flashed through my mind. I felt a pit of loneliness in my stomach--I really wanted to go
home.
The problem I faced was that if I were to return, Willy would know that I still live.
He would this time have to make sure that I would be dead--because his own existence
would be on the line if the authorities were to find out. I finally decided that I could
never return.
Returning from my contemplation, I looked out the window for real and saw a static,
unmoving world. Quickly, I looked away because the loneliness was too palpable. I
turned my mind back to the present problem: how to escape. This brought to mind
another question: what happened to the other people that came into this spider's web.
I let my mind wonder further. When I was young, I remember watching a spider
efficiently catch and wrap up each morsel. After wrapping the snack, the spider would
suck the victim dry leaving an empty husk. I remember thinking how successful that
particular spider was from the collection of empty husks I found.
"That's it!" I cried as I ran back to the glass case. I looked carefully and anxiously at
each figurine. I got down to the last one. It's not there! But. . . I'm right, I know it!
Where's the image of me? I looked through the collection again and again, but still I
found nothing. Discouraged and frustrated, I sat down in the chair and reevaluated the
analogy I had drawn.
The spider would capture and encase all the insects that landed in its web. After
encasing them, the spider would draw the life essence from the victim leaving a husk or
trophy of conquest. The keeper must be doing the same thing. But, how?
One of the biggest problems I have in this world is I assume too much. What one
would normally expect, really doesn't work in this world. What if I had not yet been
caught? Or, what if my effigy was not supposed to be in the case? Either way, I had to
find out where my effigy is; and the keeper must be doing something with it in his room
whenever I "interrupt" him. With a new sense of resolve, I walked out of the library and
into the hall.
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Tome 1
I was about to walk down to the kitchen or storage room (whatever that room the
keeper uses), but when I passed a room door, I felt something strange. It was like I was
supposed to go into that room. I was getting somewhat accustomed to this world, but this
aspect of my "feeling" something intangible, etherial (supernatural?) made me very
uneasy. I did not like it too much.
I decided to go in anyway and investigate. I opened the door and looked in. It was a
regular room, something like a dormitory or a hotel room. There was a bed, nightstand,
and a small tub over in the corner. On the nightstand was a little figurine--of me! I had
found it! I took the effigy and walked out the door.
The hall was clear so I proceeded toward the library. Now, for all the hassle I was
given this whole day and since I was feeling a little vindictive, I went into the library and
grabbed two of the keeper's "trophies" (I'm referring to the effigies). I walked out to the
door--strange, no keeper. So, I opened the door, expecting a confrontation.
"You are breaking the rules," the keeper was standing there, just as I expected.
I had to think fast. If I acted gruff, he would mirror that and stronger. "I want to
thank you for your hospitality. The clothing will be very helpful. And, now I must
leave." I said, extending my hand and trying to ignore the comment.
The keeper looked frustrated for a minute, smiled, and took my hand. "Thank you,
sir, for coming to my inn. I hope your stay was pleasant. You do realize that the glass
effigies will not live." He said, smiling.
That took me aback, they won't live? Then, I would be committing murder. [It is
better that a man face his own death than to be enslaved forever.] The thought was
disturbing but true, so I recited it to the keeper.
The keeper, upon hearing me, shook with anger. His young, centuries-old eyes began
to glow red. He bared he teeth and said, "you are my enemy then." It was quite a
fearsome sight, but I was getting tired of being acted on. So, I walked out the door. He
tried to stop me, but I kept on going.
I got to the point of almost touching him, but nothing was going to stop me now--I
kept going, closing my eyes and fully expecting to be pushed back. Nothing happened. I
opened my eyes with a shock and glanced back. The keeper was just as shocked as I was.
He stood there looking at me, his eyes red as hot iron. I had walked through him! How
did that happen? I really didn't want to ask the jerk, so I kept walking.
When I was about a hundred meters down the road, I stopped and placed the two
extra figurines on the road about two meters apart. I stood back and put my figurine on
the ground. As soon as I did that, I heard a scream from the house go from a low D up
beyond audibility. I felt a sliding-wrenching. My arms and legs became slow and
unresponsive.
Looking at the effigies, I saw a dull red glow from them. Within a timeless period
(seconds?), the color changed from red to orange to green to dark, barely-visible purple.
When I had regained my senses, I was standing facing two people with smoking black
spots where the figurines had once stood.
I looked about and wanted to shout exuberantly, but contained myself. I heard the
wind and birds and all the sounds of nature. That did it--I couldn't hold it back any
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Tome 1
longer. After making a fool of my self, I looked at the people standing in front of me.
One of them started to tip slightly, so I ran to grab him. Or, tried to. My muscles
were still somewhat unresponsive. Both of the individuals fell backward and landed on
the ground with a gravel-moving thud. I started to feel sad that I had taken these "husks"
back with me--only to die and molder. Then, the phrase returned. This did not help the
sadness I felt. I looked down sadly and wept quietly.
"Oh, where am I?" I heard the groan.
I looked up with a start. Both of the men were moving. My anguish moved to
confusion. What happened? The keeper said that these would only die. He. . . he lied!
"Who are you?" One of guys asked looking up at me.
The other guy had the same question in his eyes. I didn't realize that I would have to
deal with them after I released them. Here we go again. . . ?
"Yea, what do you want with us?" The other asked.
"Do you remember entering an old house?" I began. They both nodded. "My name
is Tome, and, well, you have been trapped there for some time--like I was. I figured out
how to get out and I took you two with me." I realize that I had covered a lot of ground in
a couple sentences, but I did not want to go into more depth than necessary. In fact, I
really did not want to talk to anyone, but I wanted to strangle Oper for getting me into this
mess.
One of the guys jumped up and gave me a bear hug! The other, I guess feeling left
out, did the same thing! "Now what did I do?" and "I can't breathe!" were the only things
I could manage. Seeing my discomfort, they both detached and proceeded to pump my
arm one on the left and the other on the right (in unison, fortunately), thanking me
tearfully. Seeing their actions, I was beginning to see why crying in public was taboo (in
my world, I don't know about this one).
"We shall always be in your debt!" One of them said while the other nodded.
Oh, no, not another "life-debt"!
"Look, guys, I don't want what I did to influence your life's decisions in any way.
You may find that you have been out of currency for a while and a lot of things changed.
Let's just agree to go our separate ways, and if we need anything we'll find each other.
Okay?" I tried to make it sound as convincing as possible. I did not want any more
problems than I already have (like knowing where I am going to sleep tonight).
They weren't very happy about that, so I promised to use them whenever I needed
them. That helped a bit more. I waived goodbye as I followed the path back up where I
separated from Oper. I really had a lot to say to that guy! Why did he tell me to go to
that inn? Was he trying to get rid of me?
Well after nightfall, I found the very spot we separated, but he wasn't there. I looked
around and found a tree with a broad base. I might as well spend the night, I thought. So,
I went over to tree and leaned back crossing my legs and folding my arms. My eyes
closed easily, and sleep was welcomed.
"Well, Tome, I see you got yourself some new clothes!"
I knew that voice. I didn't need to open my eyes; I just asked, "why did you send me
into a trap?"
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Tome 1
"Trap? What trap?" He asked me innocently.
I jumped up and grabbed his cloak. It was difficult to stay mad looking up at him,
but I managed. "Look, turkey! You told me to follow that road going south! I did it and
the only house I found was a decrepit old house! I got stuck there trying to solve a timeriddle to escape. Now, I have two more life-debts to deal with! What's worse is you'll
probably find the whole damn situation funny!" I was practically frothing at the mouth.
Sure enough, he started to laugh, but stopped and put his hands on my shoulders. "I
did not tell you to go north I said south."
"I went south! Isn't south that way?" I pointed.
He shook his head. "It's that way, Tome." He pointer the other way. He paused for a
minute and asked, "don't tell me you went there?"
"Yes, I went there!"
"Well, obviously, I underestimated you. You are the first in lore history to survive
the house. How did you do it?" Even in the dark, I could tell he was impressed.
Reluctantly, I described the ordeal. When I got to the end, we were both sitting
against the tree. There was a long pause before he spoke.
"I think that if you had fallen asleep, you would have been like the rest of the
figurines. So, you're initial assumption that you had until your death was wrong. Also,
the keeper did not lie, those you freed will die--naturally, like you and me. This is
something that keeper might not understand: death is natural to man." You know, this is
the first time that he actually took me seriously--I felt good!
I thought about what he said, then remembering, I asked, "did you rape that wench?"
He started laughing again (so much for taking me seriously). "Do you really think I
did? Didn't she lie about you? No, I would not do something that infantile!" He said
smiling and cupping me on the back.
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Tome 1
Blissful Sleep is without Dream
An Interlude
You know, I remember a few occasions where my dreams have meant something.
Most of the time, however, they were strange or outright bizarre--yes, the normal,
everyday dreams. I even remember one dream where I went to work for an old company
stark naked. Oh, yes, I felt embarrassed--especially when the other characters in the
dream-play noticed. And, no, it does not mean that I hate my mother and want to kill my
father.
I personally feel that those people who think there is a meaning in every dream are
looking beyond the mark. As far as I know the mind is trying to relax. This relaxation is
very important to the brain otherwise the brain will not work normally. I remember
reading about an experiment done on some service men back before these experiments
were declared illegal. In this experiment, these service men were denied sleep for a 72
hour period. After 36 hours, their brains ceased to function normally--they were slow,
catatonic, and irrational. (I know a lot people who act this way. I wonder if they are still
part of the same experiment--illegally?)
You may wonder why I am talking about this. Well, dreams are an interesting thing.
Like I said, I usually don't have any significant dream (as far as I can remember). This
night I really didn't want to be alone in that strange world. So, it was comforting to know
that Oper was sleeping next to me. Being attacked by some creature of the night was not
very favorable to me. Oper knows the area and would be able to warn me.
Unless, of course, it was a nightmare.
"Tome? Tome!"
"Who are you?" I felt strange: my voice detached--slow and drawn.
"Tome, you must follow me." The figure motioned to come. I stood up and half felt
the land or ground underneath me as I walked. The surroundings were hazy yet calm.
"Who are you?" I repeated. I wanted to see his face but was unable. His face was
cowled and there was a sense of uncomfortable mystery about him. How did I know that
my guide was a male? The voice? That must be it.
After a little distance, he stopped to face me. The robe he wore billowed about him
from some impalpable wind. Its color would not be very distinguishable from freshly
turned ash. He stood unshakingly facing me--what did he want?
"Tome, I am the memories of Ronde the robot. You will be approaching my nexus of
fate tomorrow. There are a few things I must explain before you get there. I needed your
help; so, I brought you here. I changed Willy as it was trying to fix Ronde the robot into
thinking that you were a threat to its existence. (That really wasn't very difficult
considering it was nearly ready for a breakdown anyway.)"
I shocked. "You did all of this to me? You brought me here? I have faced three life
sentences in one day, because you needed my help? Well, thanks a lot--for nothing!"
"Please, you must understand: I wanted to get back to my world. I had nothing to do
with the kingdom and the Mirror! I need you to get a talisman from the Sammil. Then, I
want you to find my body and reattach it to its chain. That's all."
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"Oh, that's all!" I responded sarcastically. "But, what's the Sammil?" I asked, but
before I could get an answer he disappeared and left me alone. I looked around and saw
nothing--nothing, like black pitch. I felt so isolated--so cold. I tried to walk but
stumbled. Then I felt hateful eyes on me. . . I felt like I couldn't move. . . Something
grabbed me. . . I tried to call out. . .
"Tome! Wake up! You were having a nightmare! Wake up!" I was being shaken by
strong, large hands when I woke with a start. I looked into something like the face of
Oper.
"Wha. . . ?" was my only articulation.
"You were having a nightmare! We can't have you making too much noise--you'll
attract the night creatures. Now get back to sleep!" He said gruffly.
I lay awake for nearly an hour after my rude awakening. How the hell I am supposed
to keep quiet in my sleep? Have you ever tried to get a person who talks in their sleep to
shut up? Have you ever tried to quiet a gossip?
I decided to think about the dream. Yes, I said that most don't mean anything, but
this time I felt that I had better listen to this one. What a strange dream! It seemed so
real! No, it couldn't be anything I tried to convince myself and let the dream slip into the
recesses of my mind. Slowly, I returned to a light slumber, assuring myself that I was
only going mad.
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Tome 1
Who Me? I'm From Georgia
After having an adventurous first day, I was ready to take on the world (well, this
world). Yes, I was feeling better about having my life threatened three times the day
before. I mean what could possibly top that? I know, I know: anything. But, I decided to
be in bright spirits like my jocular companion.
"You call this breakfast?" Well, maybe I was a little edgy.
"If you don't like it, go find your own fish!" And, maybe Oper was feeling it too.
Okay, we were not exactly on the best of terms. I mean, I say something; he laughs. I ask
something; he laughs. I stop talking; he laughs! What's so damn funny?
I looked at the plate he had given me. Fried fish--for breakfast?. It did not look very
appealing, especially if I am used to something light and nutritious, like chocolate sugar
bombs with maple syrup. But, eating fish in the morning took about all the effort I could
muster. I said something about it and the cook was about to throw me in the river.
Maybe I should find another traveling companion. But, who? That brainless wench?
One of the two I freed from the Mirror? I seriously thought about it and decided that it
would be unwise. One would continuously try to seduce me while the other two would
be always willing to throw their lives for mine. On one hand, I don't like being a pimp;
while on the other, I don't like gory messes. Maybe that is why I never married and I
lived alone? So, I was stuck with him. But, how long is he stuck with me?
After a little while, I felt bad about picking on him. I think he was mad at me
because he was walking ahead of me. So, I decided to approach him.
"Oper, I'm sorry about this morning," I began (it was almost noon). "I shouldn't have
said anything about the food. I truly
appreciate your efforts." Even though I made it as convincing as possible, all I got was a
grunt. I've noticed that when Oper was mad he tended to walk faster. Trying to keep up
a giant at normal gait was hard enough, but when mad. . .
Some minutes later he spun about to face me. Just trying to keep up with him, I was
not paying much attention so I plowed right into him, landing on the ground ungracefully.
His cowl was pulled up, and all I could see were his eyes which at present were little slits
glaring down at me.
"Why do you follow me, knave? The very sustenance I provide is insufficient, and
you fill my ears with pettiness. I took you in because I was intrigued with your similarity
to me and your use of the personal language. But, I tire of your complaints, and if I can't
live up to your expectations, you can go throw road apples!" His accusing finger was
now pointed at me like a primitive gun, ready to loose its deadly injection.
I climbed to my feet and was about to turn that gun on my companion, but I couldn't.
His comments made me angry--very angry. But, when he used the very phrase I used the
day before, I realized that I had been petty. I stood there taking in all the insults and
personal jabs. After what seemed to be an hour, my accuser stopped.
"Don't you have anything to say? You seem to have something to say every other
time!" You know sitting back and watching this one way altercation, you would
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normally sympathize with me. Well, don't. He was right: I had been complaining since
we've met. Even then, two men standing in an open grass field yelling at each other is
ridiculous.
At that thought, I started to laugh. This took Oper completely by surprise; while I
laughed, he stood there dumbly. The reversed roles made me laugh even harder. Being
that he was more than a head taller than I was, I could not put my arm on his shoulders.
So, I just put my hand on his shoulder and encouraged him forward.
Easily, he walked on with the urging. We travelled on through the pastured
landscape. The tall grasses were crushed down or raked harshly at our legs as we went
through their verdant mass. Time went slowly as did we; within minutes, I became
bored of the silence.
"Where are you from?" I decided to break the silence as he stepped over a log (I had
to almost climb over it).
"I come from a land far from here called Ihimed. You must have heard about it."
"No, I'm not from here," I tried to say casually brushing the fungal residue from the
log.
"It's apparent that you're not from this area to not know about that kingdom and the
Mirror. Where are you from?" His question had more than just a little curiosity in it.
This made me nervous. How do I answer this type of question without losing another
potential friend? You must admit; knowing someone from another plane is a little scary-even in my world.
"I live. . . very. . . far away," I responded carefully.
"Oh, I realize that. But, where? Don't worry; I know all the lands, because I travel."
He was making this very difficult. "I come from a land called 'Georgia.'" Well, let's
see how he takes that. . .
"Oh, there! Sure I know. . . " He stopped and looked at me confusedly. Confusion
seems to be a prevalent malady around here. "Georgia? Where's that? There is no
'Georgia' that I know of."
Well now that he knew part of the truth, I figured that he should know the rest. But,
for a while, I was going to play with his mind. "You claim to know all the lands here,
but you don't know about Georgia?" I tried to looked as amazed at his "ignorance" as
possible.
"Yes, I know all the lands and cultures. And, I know there is no 'Georgia-land'!" He
didn't look angry or exasperated, but he was towering over me again. It took a great deal
of courage to continue along the same line.
"If you say that you know all the lands and cultures of this world, then I will have to
agree with you: Georgia is not part of this world." Now that I have got to the meat of the
discussion, I was waiting in anticipation for Oper's reaction.
I was not disappointed. At first, he threw up his hands and turned away from me.
But, a moment later, he turned back to look at me again with narrowed eyes.
"What do you mean 'this world'?" His voice was more accusative than inquisitive.
Secretly, I was really enjoying myself, but something began nag me in the back of my
head about my approach.
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"I said that if you say there is no Georgia in this world, I would believe you. I mean,
after all, you do claim to have extensive experience with this world: I, therefore, do not
doubt you." My voice was bordering on insolence, and Oper could easily detect it.
Now, you may ask why am I doing this. Well, this will be the first time since I've
met Oper that I would have the upper hand. Being that I was from another world, I knew
that there were going to be many things that I would be totally oblivious to certain rules.
Yes, for now I was going to have my fun, and I consciously ignored the consequences.
"No, knave, I meant what do you mean 'this world' as opposed to another world?"
My flippant answer would have normally cooled a friendship. Well, I was beginning to
believe that this is about to blow up in my face. Oper's having pulled back his hood with
eyes glaring at me basically was my physical cue for danger. From the way Oper acted, I
got the distinct impression that he really was used to being alone--completely solitary
and independent, unobstructed by helpless peons. He only took me along because of our
similarities. Still, those similarities seem to be waning.
You know, Oper really isn't a bad man--unless you get on his bad side. Anyway, I
had to get our relationship back on the right track. Have you ever stood at the edge of a
cliff and a felt strong force like your about to be pulled off into the abyss? Well, I was
beginning to feel that icy grip. I had to make amends and fast. The problem is that even
though I was toying with his mind, I was not really sure if I wanted to tell him where in
reality I was from. But, since I did not know this world (in the slightest), I could not
cover myself with any ruse.
But, how does one say "hi, I'm from another planet"? Even then, how do you tell
someone that you're from another plane? I had a real problem here, and I was only
making it worse by alienating the only alien to truly befriend me. What about my other
world? Well, like I said, I was a Land-dweller. And the only thing that a Land-dweller
is accustomed to seeing is other Land-dwellers. No, we do not see any alien life forms.
Even the robots were made locally, government trading tariffs, you know.
Well, back to the original problem: how do I make amends for my now-recognized
faux pas, disclose my origin, and retain my only link to safety. (Some safety: he seems
hardly ever around when I need him!)
As I was thinking about my answer, Oper was getting impatient. His expression was
not exactly like the jovial self he was yesterday. Seeing this was only making the
decision more difficult. Okay, so you may say that "honesty is the only policy," but I tell
you I was afraid of his reaction. I did not want to lose a friend!
"I am from another world," I said finally. Well, there I was at the cliff's edge, and
now I decided to jump off. "Another world may not be accurate, but it is sufficient to say
that I am not from here. I have only been here for 24 hours." I felt like I had just
swallowed a bottle of arsenic.
"What do you mean you're from another world? There are no other worlds! You're
mad!" I think it was Oper's turn to be a ignoramus. I looked up at him, and he had a
curious worried look on his face--like he was walking with a madman. I have been told
that a madman sees everyone else as mad and himself sane. Does that mean that I am
sane and everyone else mad?
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Anyway, I said something about arsenic? Well, how about strychnine? If my
disclosure was supposed to remedy my current situation, I would like to tare up the
prescription. I know that I had foreseen a negative response but total denial of
extraterrestrial worlds? I was amazed: I had never met such ignorance. Then, I realized
that I was no longer in my world; in fact, I was now in a backwater world. It was
probable that most of the beliefs were archaic if not superstitious.
What made things worse was that in this world sorcerers were not (necessarily)
quacks. Magic was real, and I saw some in action. And according to the governor, the
man standing in front of me was a sorcerer. This world was something that I only
dreamed about. Magic in my world was only fabricated with machinery. If you're
wondering what do I mean, any technology can be viewed as magic by some primitive.
Well, here I am the primitive in this world.
"Tome, I know you're a strange person here, but are you trying to tell me that you are
stranger than you seem?" Oper said pulling me back to "reality."
What an interesting way of saying it! "I am telling you the truth. If you cannot
accept that, don't worry because it is really not important. But, let me tell you that I am
truly a stranger here, and I need your help to understand this world." I tried not to make it
sound like I was pleading for help--I am prouder than that. But, I didn't really succeed. "I
am a man like you; what difference does it make where I come from?"
Oper didn't say a word, but turned and started back on the path we were following. I
didn't know what to do--much the less how he felt about me. I felt like a child again-following around the adult I emulated, not knowing how to please him.
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Stranger and Strange
The rest of the day was uneventful--if that is possible. We walked toward a forest
and reached it by evening with darkness gathering around us. Oper had not said a word
since our "little discussion." He didn't even look at me. A few times during the
afternoon, I got the distinct impression he wanted to ask me something. How I felt this I
really don't know: I was a little confused about this place and its influences on me. I am a
technical person! I repair robots! This means I have to know all about chemistry,
physiology, and psychology. I do not understand these extra-perceptual things!
When we finally reached the woods, he and I were walking side by side. I proceeded
into the woods. The darkness quickly engulfed me and I felt like I was being watched. I
did not have the nerve to go on, so I stopped and looked around--Oper was gone. The
feeling intensified--coming from all around me but especially in front of me. It felt
familiar--but, I could not quite put my finger on it.
I started to back up hoping that I had not disturbed anything. All I needed now was
to be alone and in trouble--again. I don't think my nerves could handle much more of
this. As I was backing up I could imagine an unseen force behind me begin to gather and
grab me.
Nothing happened; I exited without mishap. My heart was doing somersaults and my
stomach was doing a spasmatic beat (or was that visa versa?). Anyway--I was scared!
"Oper?" I called quietly, fully expecting him to have disappeared.
"Why the hell did you do that?" The reproof was very distinct.
"Do what? Back out? Do you really expect me to stay in there?"
"No, knave, why did you go in?" I could not see him but I could feel him near me.
The darkness was like a cave I was in many years ago--I could not see a single thing. I
secretly wished for a flashlight.
"Why wasn't I supposed to go in?" Even though it was dark, I didn't let that bother
me. What did bother me was the fact that I was being interrogated for something I didn't
know about. But, I know now! Something was in there that had a strong interest in me-an interest that did not feel very healthy.
"You don't know why you're not supposed to go in?" The voice was incredulous and
very near now like he was stand right over me.
"No, I don't. What's the big deal? I'm out now--supposedly safe. Why are you
belaboring the point?" I was getting a little annoyed now--I just wanted drop the subject.
I turned "away" (I couldn't exactly see what I was turning away from) and walked into a
tree. I landed on the ground stunned and dizzy.
"Tome! Tome!" I heard a voice yelling in my ear. I opened my eyes and found it was
still dark. His voice was still ringing in my ears as I felt myself lifted up. It took all my
strength to keep from vomiting--I never felt so horrible. I felt like my thoughts were a
distant nothingness--impalpable, incomprehensible. Slowly I felt my energy drain and I
fell back to sleep.
"Tome, wake up! You cannot sleep! Wake up!" The voice was yelling again. I was
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no longer being carried: I was stretched on the ground. The night darkness still engulfed
us. I lifted myself up and felt an arcing pain streak through my head. A concussion! My
thoughts were clearer now--I walked into that tree. Each memory carried a message of
excruciating pain.
"Why don't you let me sleep--I'll be alright. I'll wake up in the morning, okay?" I
knew that I was not being reasonable--but I wanted to sleep.
"It is morning, Tome!"
"It's still dark. What are you talking about? We must have a few hours before even
dawn." There was no answer. Then, I felt the sun's warmth against my cheeks. I finally
"saw" what Oper could not tell me--I was blind! With a softer, more emotional voice, I
asked: "how did it happen?"
I could feel that he was very near now with sympathy drawn in his expression. He
put his hand on my shoulder. I could tell that he was kneeling and facing forward--and
this time, I really did not care how I knew. "We were only going to camp near the Forest
of Curses, because no creature would bother us and take the chance of being cursed. I did
not know what your curse was until you walked into the tree in the moonlight. But, I was
not sure because when you were talking with me you apparently knew where I was. This
morning I checked, and your eyes are clouded over." His voice was pacifying but careful;
there was a hint of fatalism in it.
"Are you trying to say that I will be permanently blind?" Anguish filled my soul, and
I felt cold. I closed my eyes and realized how much I needed my eyesight. A thought
came to me: "you're a sorcerer--you can give me my sight back." I blatantly pleaded with
him. Then I remembered the governor from the day before--it seemed like years-pleading with me. Ironic.
"I'm afraid that is beyond my capabilities. The curse has to be removed at the
source." He said without emotion.
I let that sink in. "In order for me to regain my eyesight I have to go back in?" I
asked to confirm my fears. Don't get me wrong--I don't want to confirm my fears, but I
that was all I could reason.
"Very good. You catch on fast for being from another world," I heard him smile at
that comment. He doesn't believe me. But, still I can't blame him. Would you believe
me? I thought so.
I sat there in the tall grass and felt the wind slap the stocks against my cheeks. The
wind was warm and comforting; the sun was warm and penetrating. I thought about my
home and my work. It really wasn't all that bad, I thought. Mediocrity isn't all that bad.
Maybe I should have stayed home in bed--at least the circumstance would have been a
little different. I wouldn't have been death-threatened three times going on four, I
wouldn't have been stuck here--I would have retained my prize sense.
I quickly shook myself: self-pity will not help matters. I am here--now. What I do
and what I say I am responsible for--no one else. Oper was still sitting next to me; I am
really beginning to appreciate him as a friend.
"Oper, what do I have to do in the forest?" I asked finally.
"I don't really know. Those that have gone in to remove their curse have never
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survived. I know I said that about the Mirror, but this is different. I really do not believe
you will survive this one: as far as I know a person is cursed for entering the forest. If
you enter again, you may be cursed again--perhaps, with a worse cursing. Be thankful
that you were not cursed with something worse. Accept you fate, and let's go on."
"What will you do with me? I am now--more than ever--a burden to you. You
cannot always protect a blind man." I turned to look at him, only to find sackcloth. Oper
did not answer. I had pointed out the very thing that bothered him the most about my
curse: I was now a burden.
Even in the calming sun, I felt bitter and violated. For most people, according to
psychology, their hearing is the most important. For me, it was my sight. I have ever
enjoyed the colors of autumn, the hazy days of natural summer, the verdant forests, the
smile of a beautiful woman. Now that is all gone.
I could tell that he was not looking at me. His face was furrowed and deep with
thought; his eyes were dark and sad. "Seeing" him like this made me hurt inside. Yes, he
was a good friend. I let my mind ponder over my observations.
[Blindness, by some, is not a curse. Rather, it is a doorway into an incomprehensible
field of alternate senses. Those who are blind can function as anyone else, plus they can
understand other's feelings far better--because, they are independent from the most
prejudicing stimulus called "sight."]
I let that thought sit in my mind. I didn't want to react to it. I turned back facing
forward like Oper. "What will you do with me?" I figured it was about time I learned my
fate.
"Oh, don't worry. I will take you to a town and I will set you up with a job," he
responded trying to sound encouraging. But, the undertones were there: he was going to
leave me. And I was going to end up in a dead end job again.
Well no thanks. I stood up and immediately collapsed: I was not well enough yet
from my concussion. I guess my legs were not going to go with me just yet, but I knew
that I had to face the challenge. This was my choice, this time. I was willing to face my
own death to gain back my sight. The other times I faced possible executions, but not one
was a voluntary situation. No, I am not planning to go on a suicide mission. Instead, I
feel that my sight is worth the risk. Otherwise, I will stagnate again, and this time I will
have no way out.
"You, fool! What do you think you are doing? You don't have all your faculties yet
from knocking yourself out on the tree!" I felt his hands under my armpits, as he lifted
me up and dragged me back, propping me against a tree trunk.
"I know you will not understand me, but I will tell you anyway. I cannot remain
blind--I must go to face the forest. I came to this world because I was threatened in the
other. I stayed here because I don't want to stagnate. If I don't regain my sight, my whole
reason for staying would be moot. So, please take me to the forest." I spoke rationally
but desperately. I don't care about the advantages of blindness, I want nonstagnation and
mobility.
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Stand Alone With Trees?
Oper waited for a minute--I could tell he was looking at me. Then he lifted me up
and carried me away. When we reached the forest edge, I could sense the forest and its
darkness. It also knew that I was near. It was like a living. . . something. Oper leaned
me against a tree.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Traveler," I called him, "what would do?"
"I see what you mean. I cannot wait, you know: I must move on."
"What are you talking about? Why can't you wait for me? Oper? Oper!" He was
gone. I will probably never see him again, I thought sadly. I turned to face my
obstacle/opponent. In many ways, that is how it felt--I was challenging an opponent in
some sort of bizarre contest. But, how could I fight/compete without eyesight? That
would not be fair!
<Fair? My little one, what is fair?>
That voice. . . like a rasping wind. . . cut through me without thought or compassion.
Filled with dispassionate anger, it challenged me to go forward. Yet, the loathing and
hate that permeated the wood air wished me away. It was like there were two different
wills in the forest: one so self-assured that it challenged any trespasser and the other so
denied that it hated all existence. However, I came for my sight; so I'd be damned if some
supernatural-nonexistence was going to deter me.
I entered the forest and felt the eyes again--all around me. It was so. . . distracting. I
stretched my arms from tree trunk to tree trunk, feeling my way through. Finally, after
about ten trees straight in, I stopped and took a rest. There had been no underbrush so the
way was uncumbered so far. For a place that was so ominous, there was not much here.
I was tempted to sit down next to the tree, but a feeling warned me not to. I stood
there intrigued that in just barely two days I had almost completely gotten used to these
strange feelings--and how dependent I was becoming to them. This thought didn't really
worry me: what did worry me was whether I was ever going to see my home world ever
again. As a matter of fact, I wondered if I would ever see any world.
The black-blindness discouraged me. I could "see" now what archaically would have
been a handicap. Now back in my home world, that was something truly of the past.
Well practiced surgical procedures by robots could replace any deformity--including eye
transplants. The programs for such a procedure were simple and very straight-forward.
Then a thought came and went with dispatch: I would go to my home world if I could
only see the exit from this one. Sure--I could attach the entry to any exit like the law
states, but I need to see it. So, I was stuck; I needed to follow the rules that this world
used.
As I thought, I felt something approach. I didn't hear anything, but I felt it. My
hackles rose and my heart started to pound, but I knew that I was getting into a dangerous
place all along. And, I have faced death three times, so I was a little callous to its
possibility. Of all the times to get blase about death, I had to choose my own!
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<So, my little one decided to join us.>
Again that feeling--challenging, self-confident, dispassionate anger. What could I
do? I had entered this place this time on my own volition--it had every right to be angry.
Once again this thing was "talking" to me telepathically--like Ronde had. And like the
time with Ronde, I could do nothing but allow its presence. My mind flashed back to
what Oper had said: something about getting another curse. I wonder what my other
curse is now?
<Oh, my child, thou hast not been cursed yet. Once thou leavest, shalt thou be cursed
again.>
So it can read my mind. Even though it would be easier to think the questions, I felt
that I must remain in some control. But, how do I know if it could understand my
speech? Yes. . . the personal language! "How do I gain my sight back?"
<My little one desires his foolish sense of sight back. Knowest thou not that
sightlessness was a gift? What canst thou now without thy sight? Thou senses me and
my minions; thou knowest where thou art; thou knowest the feelings of men's hearts.
And thou callest sightlessness a curse? Little fool! But, now if thou leavest my abode,
thou shalt truly be cursed.>
What a strange point of view! Although, I know what he means: without my sight I
could understand much more about people than I could ever before. But was that
necessarily true? Was this super-perception inherently mine or was it a "gift" along with
the blindness? Could it have been both? Even then, if sight to it was a curse, and its
action upon my entry was to take away that curse, was it in reality initially benevolent?
<Oh, my little one, thy thoughts are many! Never have I encountered one like thee.
Thou art not from here: thou dost not belong here. Nevertheless thou art in my realm and
in my power.>
Why is it that I never seem to be in complete control? I mean I look back on the last
two days: I nearly escaped one termination only to enter another then another. One thing
I have noticed is that the last two times I have been the only one that survived certain
challenges. Oh sure, Oper survived too--but, he did that at a distance. Once again, I was
in a position where even Oper would not go--I wonder if Oper really knows these things
but refuses to disclose. . . no, he's probably legitimate.
What about the others that have come here? The Mirror made little figurines out of
the people. Sometimes, it had been tempting to go back and free all the rest, but the
Mirror is really intimidating--so I've dismissed that idea. Here, the others before me
might be also alive, if this being is like the Mirror.
"What has happened to the other people that have entered this place?"
<Little one, why dost thou care? For thy sake shouldst thou concern thyself!
Nevertheless, I will answer thee. They are here--everyone. But, their presence should not
concern thee for I alone control them. They are mine!>
All his? What does that supposed to mean? Mind control? Back in my home world,
there used to be form of mind control until the man-robot wars ended. That was the
organo-phaser I feared in Ronde. Basically, the will of a being is replaced with the
purpose of some other being: be it a robot or human. The process was discovered in
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some backwater planet like this one. It seems that there were some animals in that planet
that would fight back conflict of their predators by taking over their minds. What is
interesting is these animals could not handle strong emotions like hatred: so, they diverted
the emotion toward something else. If this is what had happened to those before me, that
would explain why none had returned from re-entering the forest.
I thought about this. At first, I thought that I might have been able to help them. But,
I kept getting a strong feeling that they were no longer human. Something inside like a
little whisper of calm information (probably from Ronde's memory) also was trying to tell
me that the eyes that I felt were my predecessors. Assuming the fact that this thing had
probably taken their lives, it is no wonder why they have such hatred. A being that would
be able to control the thoughts of others would simply divert the hatred towards it to
hatred of others.
This brought also the realization of the predicament I was in and the situational irony.
Ronde did not have a organo-phaser like I had feared, but he did provide a way for me to
face this threat. I love and hate irony. I felt the thought jolt me into a sense of urgency. I
had to get my sight back!
"How do I get my sight back?" [Knowledge of an enemy's methods are more
dangerous if the enemy finds discovery.] Thanks for the advice, Ronde.
<Thy thoughts are so confused my little one. But, I think thou hast understood the
incomprehensible. I am as you think I am--I must preserve my existence. So, I absorb all
threats to my essence. Thou art here; thou wilt be absorbed also.>
I felt the darkness nearby encroach and surround me. I felt it more palpable than
ever--like a rich, dead bog. It touched me but was repulsed. Again and again it tried to
grab me. I couldn't move--fear had held me open and vulnerable in place. Finally, the
thing reached out held me with all its strength. I felt pain and numbness in my body as it
tried to control me. After what seemed hours, I collapsed to the forest floor. The
numbness was so complete I did not feel myself fall.
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How Offensive Is Your Defense?
I awoke and felt gross. Wait a minute! I felt! It was unable to phase me! But, the
whole ordeal left me like a mangled puppet without strings. Why didn't it win? And,
where was it? Did it leave me thinking it had won?
I sat up and noticed an embarrassing difference in my vesture--I was without a single
article of clothing. Another realization filled my soul with elation and awe: I was seeing!
I sat there looking at my hands with sheer joy for a couple of moments. Finally, I decided
to view my surroundings. What I saw did nothing to help my mysteriously regained
sight.
I was no longer in the forest. The ground was flat and interminable in all directions.
It was hard like a special nonreflective alloy. I looked distantly and saw a pillar straight
ahead of me. Light did not have a single source--there was no sun, but there was enough
light to see great distances. The air was sweet and calming, yet there was a sense of
incomprehensible wrongness in this strange place. I stood and was immediately
reminded of my nudity. I honestly try to be as modest as possible; I mean that I really
don't think that anyone wants to see my body, just as I don't want to be on exhibition. So,
when I didn't see anyone, I walked toward the pillar.
The pillar reached up into the featureless sky. Polished white, it was the only object I
could see for kilometers in all directions. As I finally reached it in what seemed a
timeless hour, I could see that it was very broad, sturdy and smooth. The material was
unidentifiable but was opaque. I stood there and inspected it with my renewed vision. I
was more happy to have my sight back than I was disturbed about my new surroundings.
"Hello," came a voice from behind me.
I turned and saw a man about my size and with a well-trimmed black beard. He wore
a cloak with the hood down. I was beginning to learn that the openness of an individual
was shown by whether he had his hood up or down--showing or hiding his face.
Interesting custom. I looked at him carefully. He did not look very old; in fact, he looked
about nineteen or twenty. But, his eyes showed incredible age and wisdom.
"Who are you?" I managed after some contemplation.
The man regarded me for a minute, as if I should know him as a long-time friend.
"You surprise me, Tome. You should know me already. I am what you call Ronde."
My jaw fell uninhibited to the alloy ground. Ronde? But, that's not possible. . .
unless: "Where am I?"
"In your mind. This could be considered a dream, or a surreality. Either way the
result will be the same."
"Dream? Surreality? Result?! What are you talking about? The result will be the
same as what?" I realize that Ronde had saved my life on many occasions within that last
couple of days, but how could I believe that this bozo was really Ronde and why was he
implying that something was going to happen?
"You know that you are being attacked by Sammil--the creature of the forest?" He
began.
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"The Sammil! You mean that. . . I am. . . still under attack? My eyes?"
"This is a dream: you will have your eyesight while you dream. But, you are still
blind. You can see only according to your memory. If you had never been able to see,
your dreams would be far different."
The concept was very interesting, but the truth sank to the bottom of my stomach
like an indigestible stone--I'm still blind. I felt depression returning and did not have any
will to stop it. Seeing my eyes lower, the man said, "Tome! You must be strong! The
Sammil will destroy you and will have me. You cannot let this happen! I brought you
here because you could have your sight and your extra senses to be able to fight it
effectively."
"What do you mean you brought me here? And, what's so special about you? What
do I care if I let him have you? I'm still blind, man--I cannot see! What does it matter if I
cannot not see the sunrise? Don't you realize that I will never again see the world that I
have now accepted as my home? Of course, you can't: you're a robot--you have no
feelings."
"Tome, you are wrong. I am not a robot--never was. Just as I came into your
consciousness, I was part of Ronde's consciousness. Ronde originally was a robot for
controlling humans, as you feared. He was sent to a world during your age of the robothuman wars where he was later forgotten--our world.
"I discovered the robot some time ago and was caught in its power. That was many
years ago--and I doubt my body survived my absence. Back then, my name was Gamaz;
but since I have been in Ronde all these years, I am essentially Ronde with human
feelings."
A robot with human feelings? Ridiculous! That brought me to another question.
"When you entered my mind, you said you needed my help. What do you mean?"
"I can't answer that right now. We don't have much time: we must make sure that the
Sammil does not get you. If it gets you, it will get me!"
That brought me back to my first question: "What makes you so special? Why don't
you defend yourself if you don't want it to have you?" I was really beginning to wonder
about this person in my head that felt so self-important. I mean, what about me? I don't
really want to be a zone-head like all the rest in the forest either.
"I used to be a powerful wizard on this world. I know many things that would
endanger lives here. We cannot let it control me, and I need you to protect me." I was
about to object, but he put up his hand. "A man's existence is the culmination of all his
memories and experiences: I only exist because of my memories in your mind. Do you
understand this?"
I ignored the question. The thought then occurred to me: he said "control me." Does
that mean I control him? That thought made me feel very uneasy: it's not an everyday
happening that you find yourself controlling someone else. More than anything else, I
was feeling very wrong about all of this. In fact, it was getting very strange! I wanted
excitement in my life--not life threats and mind control! All of this existence had been
nothing but a horrible nightmare. How the hell I managed to get myself into this I could
barely remember--I think it had to do with Monday and getting up.
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The man-wizard took my no-response as an affirmative. "Good! Now we need to
tell you how to fight the Sammil."
"How am I supposed to fight this thing if I don't have a weapon?" My main concern
under lay this question, but I didn't dare to voice it.
"You don't really fight it. You put it away; you ignore it; or you don't accept it. The
more you fight against it, the more it has control over you."
"Huh?" That was about all I could say to his preposterous ideas and platitudes.
"If I were to throw a fruit at you, and you were to dodge it, every time it looked like I
was about to throw something you would try to avoid it. Therefore, I would be able to
control your actions. And if you tried to throw something back, I would still be
controlling your behavior."
Slowly, comprehension seeped into my cranium. As long as I acted or reacted to an
offender--the offender would then be able to control me. But, "how do I not react?"
"By accepting or ignoring--catching the fruit and eating it in other words. When the
opponent finds that you are not willing to fight, the battle ends."
Well, that seemed simple enough. I looked around anticipating the confrontation,
and noticed the pillar again. "What is this thing?" I asked, pointing behind me.
"Oh, that? That's nothing. Just ignore it," he said waiving his hand.
"No, I think its important--why else would it be here?"
"I don't know, but just ignore it--it won't harm you."
Something was wrong here. If it wasn't important, then why was it here? The space
was devoid of any object except for this one. It could not just be a decoration, something
my subconscious dreamed up. Slowly, a doubt crept into my thoughts. I reached out to
touch the thing in question. Just then I saw a flash, and I ducked as a silvery streak went
through the space where my head had been.
"Fool! Dost thou think that thou canst overcome me?"
Looking in the direction of the voice, I saw Ronde brandishing a beautifully ornate
sword. His calm face had metamorphosed into a hateful grimace. His eyes burned with
rage and his teeth were sharp and baneful. My amazement made me almost lose my selfcontrol. That was not Ronde!
"So, Sammil, how much was truth and how much was lie?" I asked while I squatted,
waiting for the next attack. My attempt to touch the pillar must have been a threat of
some sort. Somehow I had to use that against him.
"That, my little one, shall be free for thee to decide. I have already planted the seeds
of doubt--I can wait for the harvest!" His s's were slurred out like a snake--must have
been his new set of teeth.
What was truth and what was lie? That was the riddle I must answer, or I get diced.
Furthermore, I must know how to combat this creature--and, how do defend myself
without clothing! I tell you, his advice (mostly) was good, but I didn't want to stake my
life on it.
I dodged another blow that would have decapitated me. If I were to follow what he
said and "let the axe fall" (as it were), would I survive? I knew that this creature was able
to lie in order to get its victory--so, how could I know what was truth and what was lie?
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Another swing--I heard the air scream as it was harshly divided. The creature wanted
to control me. If I stood still and let it cut me in two, would it be controlling me?
Because it said not to fight back? But if it were telling the truth, I would control it by not
reacting to its attacks. What an interesting idea: getting sliced and diced to maintain
control. That doesn't make any sense! That must be one of the lies. So what should I
do?
The sword whiffed closer than before--if I didn't make a decision soon, I was going to
get more than a shave and a haircut. It was beginning to predict my actions. I could
move more quickly without my clothing, but that's nothing compared to its security and
protection. No one else had been able to overcome this thing. What would be the
mistake the others would likely have made?
Fight back? No, I believed, as the Sammil had said, that someone who reacts is begin
controlled. Stand still? That was the first lie: not to do anything at all. I have a hard time
believing that letting someone take action against me is retaining control. Maybe there
was a third option none had considered--that's what I had found in times past.
Again the sword came at me--this time a thrust. Seeing it come and without thinking
of the consequences, I swung around and struck the hilt with my foot. The sword spun
out of his hand, and clattered to the ground. The Sammil stood astonished. I backed
toward the pillar trying to give ground, but the Sammil did not follow. One more step
and I felt a warm sensation in my back.
"No!" the Sammil cried.
I felt a little distracted, but I kept my attention on the Sammil. Soon I was being
infused with this warm sensation, and I felt the minds of all those that were before me.
Looking around me, I found that I was standing in the pillar. They screamed in joy and in
surprise. I heard a scream of anguish and returned my attention to the Sammil.
Before me, the Sammil started to smoke and melt. Its hair turned white and fell
away, while dirt and grease boiled away from its face, exposing bleached bones and teeth.
In moments, I stood in front of a oily pool that stank like a long-dead swamp. No bones
were left in the frothy, boiling mess. Small wisps of smoke evaporated the pool, leaving
only a small golden trinket with strange figures on it attached to a chain. The amulet! I
then remembered the dream--somehow I had to find Ronde's body.
I stooped down to pick it up. As my fingers touched the ornate surface, I felt like
something was tugging at me. It was like I was being pulled at from all sides. Quickly, I
closed my hand around the amulet and shut my eyes, expecting the worst.
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Tome 1
Hello! Oh, Thank You! Won't You Tell Me Your Name?
Moments later I found myself lying face up looking into the blue sky. My eyes! I
could see again! I wasn't as excited as I was when I thought that before--I guess getting
one's sight back twice is a lot like having one's life threatened twice in one day--it's not as
exciting the second time.
I heard a loud creak; it jarred me back to awareness. I looked around and didn't see
anything. Creak! There it was again! It was coming from the tree standing next to me. I
got up quickly and found my hand clasping the amulet. I was amazed that I was able to
carry something back from my dream, but was more interested in staying out of the way
of that tree.
I backed away from it until I heard another loud creek and a splintering crack-coming from behind me! The tree I was standing next to was going to fall also!
Moments later, the creeks and cracks were coming from all around me. What was I going
to do? I couldn't remember where the forest ended, and everything that would have been
my shelter was now going to fall--on me! The noise became so deafening I had to cover
my ears and fear that I was now going to loose my hearing.
The first tree didn't fall--instead, it started to change slowly, imperceptibly. At first,
there were lines and crevices of bark, but those lines changed and began to take form.
The bark and wood shrank away to reveal a face of a woman. I looked around at each
tree and saw the same metamorphosis--most were men, others women. Branches
retracted and revealed arms; exposed roots became feet.
I walked around and looked at the faces of each person for about an hour. By then,
the whole forest was reduced to a bunch of standing wooden statues--all except for one
tree. That must be Ronde!
I walked directly to the tree. The people-statues around me were standing
quiescently, but I got the impression they were all expecting something. Were they still
alive? As I walked past one life-sized statue that came only up to my shoulders, I looked
carefully at the wood-tone face. It was a boy, about twelve years old. I bet he got lost
and entered these woods.
Finally reaching the lone tree, I inspected it and found nothing really unusual--except
it being so incredibly old. I brought out the amulet. It pulsed warmly in my hand. I
looked around in the tree for some place to attach it. After a few moments of futility, I
just rested it against its trunk hoping it would stick there. The amulet passed right
through and was absorbed. The tree metamorphosed like the others but at an accelerated
pace. Seconds later, a man stood before me with the amulet around his neck. It was the
Sammil! He looked at me and smiled. His teeth were normal, but I still didn't trust him.
I backed away slowly.
"Tome! Wait! It's me--Ronde!" He yelled after me.
His cry was useless, because as I turned to run, I plowed directly into an incredible
mass of people. They grabbed me and held me. This was about the time that one would
want to scream, right? To me that was the most rational thing I could do. Well, guess
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what I couldn't do! I was too startled to even let out a single peep!
The crowd gave way as Ronde came up to me. He smiled at me, and embraced me-knocking the wind from my lungs! For someone that has been frozen in place for so
long, I am amazed that he's been able to retain his muscle tone.
"Thank you, Tome. I--we--shall forever by in your debt!" He said as I was trying to
regain my breath.
Forever in his debt? Not another one! "'We'? What do you mean 'we'?" Ronde
didn't answer he just smiled and looked around at the massive crowd. "These are the
people before me?" He smiled wider and nodded. Okay, so, I'm slower than the normal
adventurer.
He turned to the crowd and said, "we know the appreciation you have for this man.
We hope that you will take advantage of the new life you have been given." To me, the
address was basically a dismissal. The others must gotten the same impression, because
they started walking away with a couple here and there stopping to shake my hand in
gratitude.
Within a few minutes, Ronde turned to me.
"The Sammil knew me from long ago--he knew how I would look if I appeared. Do
you remember something about seeds of doubt he spoke of? Just in case he should fail,
he made himself look like me. He expected you to try to destroy me--something he could
never do. If you were able to destroy me, he would have won. If you had not prevailed,
you would have been destroyed from the conflict--thus destroying me, so he still would
have won. I tell you, the Sammil was quite an intelligent being."
"How did you get into all this mess, and why did you pick me?" Even though I felt
used, there were certain pieces that didn't quite make much sense.
"The Sammil and I were and are old enemies. I opposed him--like you did. But,
unlike you, I did not win; so, he placed my consciousness in Ronde which was sent out of
this universe, because I would do him no good. I guess my soul was too independent for
his use. Later, the scrap collectors did the rest. After you worked on Ronde for such a
long time, I began to. . . well, trust you."
I began to believe him. I mean what evidence did I have against it? As far as I could
tell, he was speaking the truth. But, that left one nagging question: "why didn't they
prevail against the Sammil?"
"The one thing that all those others," he said motioning to the dispersing crowd, "did
not imagine was the importance of the pillar. Also, you had to disarm the Sammil
without attacking it--which you did quite admirably. What the Sammil had said was part
truth and part lie, as you imagined. You did not notice, but as soon as the sword on the
ground, it disappeared, making it impossible for the Sammil to attack you again.
"Most, when they got to this point automatically tried to attack the creature. But, the
Sammil is really not a tangible being. . . "
"So when the others would try to touch it, they were absorbed into the Sammil's
control!" I said, the light dawning.
"Exactly! The Sammil cannot take control--control can only be given. And, those
that attack it have decided to engage it--giving up their control."
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"What about those that were cut in half by the Sammil?"
"Did you notice that it never hit you?" I nodded. "It can't unless you let it. So, those
that let the Sammil skewer them have essentially given up their control anyway.
"Once the Sammil has control of the victim, he places their souls in a limbo--in the
pillar. There they accumulate and he draws power from them, because he has twisted
their wills to his. When you stood in the pillar, you disrupted the flow of power and
control. This meant that the Sammil no longer had control over the souls--they began to
think independently. This accelerated the powerloss. So, the Sammil lost all its power
and is now what it once was--nothing. You then picked up the talisman, bringing you out
of the surreality and freeing the souls to return to their bodies."
That explained a lot. We walked a ways before finding the forest's edge. I never
would have guessed I walked so far. We didn't say much--I mean what do you say to
someone that knows all your thoughts? Not much. Being part of my mind for a almost
two days, its kind of hard not to know what the other is thinking. I wonder if this will
always be true.
When we reached the edge of the "forest," I saw a figure standing there. I recognized
him immediately--Oper! I suppressed the urge to run up and embrace him.
"Welcome back to the realm of the seeing, Tome," Oper said smiling. "I heard a loud
noise and decided to go and investigate," he said with an impish grin. "As I approached, I
saw many people leaving the forest--or, what's left of the forest. So, I figured that you
had done it again. I see you have another Life-Oath. I am called Oper," he continued
extending his hand.
"I am Gamaz, Oper. I know you as well as Tome does." With that comment, Oper
raised his eyebrow and looked questioningly at Tome.
Rather than asking, Oper shook his head dismissing the obvious question. "We're
going to have to do something about the rumors that are going to spread now about you. I
tell you--you are hardly bearable to live with as is, but with all these magnanimous
actions you're going to be impossible, Tome!" He said laughing.
I rolled my eyes. I knew what he meant, so it didn't bother me.
"Now, would like to share your little experience with us?"
"First," Gamaz
chimed in, "I have a little business to take care of. Tome, do you want to go back? I may
be able to help, you know."
The thought was so tempting. I really wanted to go back, but to what? A boring job
with boring robots. There was also the matter of dealing with Willy. Even though I had
sort of made up my mind, I still liked the technical atmosphere. Still, I liked the friends I
had here. Finally, the adventures are arduous, but I was never promised an easy life here.
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Tome 1
Epilogue
As I have thought on the question posed me, I could come to one conclusion:
deciding whether I want to return is moot as long as Willy is watching out for me. I have
seriously thought about returning--especially after all the escapades I've had.
Well, anyway, I sometimes really wonder why I travel with Oper and Gamaz--I am
forever in trouble with them. For example, the time they were trying to teach me about
sorcery when I accidentally started a mountain to erupt and blow ash and lava into the air.
You might say that was only a coincidence; well, the villagers next to the mountain
would be more than willing to tell you otherwise. Nevertheless, we had to run for our
safety--from the eruption and the villagers. No wonder Oper and Gamaz never settled
down. Needless to say, I decided to put off trying to understand magic and all that tripe.
After experiences like that I was again and again considering returning to my old,
secure, boring lifestyle. What could go wrong there? I get a hangnail? I discussed my
feelings concerning the matter will my traveling companions. I figured they would
understand.
"You are wrong: you can go back," Gamaz came back.
"What do you mean? Don't you understand the significance of what I am saying? If
Willy were to find out that I still live--even on this planet, it would have to have to try to
destroy me again. I am the only thing that maintains its existence: without me it can
exist." I was exasperated with his nonchalance about my plight.
Oper piped in and said, "Whether you want to stay is not an issue any longer. You
said yourself that you would stay. That is why we have allowed you to come along with
us. If you want to go back, you might as well do so now!" It seems that Oper has become
a little tired of my indecision.
"Ability to return is and has been a possibility for you as long as you have been here,"
Gamaz explained patiently ignoring Oper's snap. Gamaz moved his hand carefully
around, drawing a circle in the air. Watching him, I saw an image open up suspended in
midair in front of him. What I saw caught my full attention: it was the lab--the
Workbench! I saw the robots cleaning up the mess and Willy working with them.
Amazingly, Ronde the robot was "completely" destroyed. Bits and pieces were strewn all
over the Workbench, but things like its head were still intact.
I saw Willy pick up the head and start to walk out with it. Then it stopped,
shuddered, and collapsed. Blue arcs of electricity began ripping the air around Willy
originating from Ronde's head. Before the other robot helpers noticed, Willy was a
bubbling mass of molten metal.
"Remember how you wanted to reprogram Willy with the acid bath? I did the next
best thing: I had Ronde fry it!" He said with a self-satisfied, devious grin.
"How did you know. . . ?" I was a little perplexed and chagrined at my being
discovered.
"Tome. . . I was part of your memory from two days. I know all about you," he
answered simply shrugging his shoulders.
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That left me some cause to think. Now I can go home and live normally. I would
have all these problems: the first two days should have been a hint to what was lying
ahead. I could go back to working with a half-brain manager and work for the rest of my
life repairing worn out machines that would never be used again, but I would be safe. I
wish I could have both worlds!
"What the hell! I'll stay," I said conclusively.
"Good," said Gamaz and Oper in unison and started laughing. We started walking
towards the path. I began the story, telling about my adventure. Every point I made, both
of them laughed. Why is it I get the feeling I have just cloned another Oper? With that
thought, it was my turn to laugh.
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