Mask of Humanity

Nicolai, quietly observing the furniture from above, and considering what he ought to do, heard an exasperated noise.

‘Marked! Marked! Where are you?’ Maric emerged from the darkness, peering around, then gave a little jump when it saw the furniture lying in ambush. ‘What are you lot doing here?’

The chair scraped its leg on the stone.

‘Well, he’s not here! You probably scared him off!’

The furniture did not look convinced. The torch hopped off the cabinet and jumped its way into the darkness under the leaning shelf, past the irritable skeleton. They showed no signs of hostility towards Maric, and the skeleton didn’t seem concerned by the fire. Maybe this fire is special? Won’t spread to books and wood? It was the only possibility that made any sense to Nicolai.

After a short time the torch re-emerged, and did a confused little jiggle.

‘I told you, didn’t I?’ muttered the irritable skeleton, rubbing at its skull with a bony hand. ‘He was my chance, you idiots! Go away!’

The chair and torch regained their positions on top of the cabinet, and with a disappointed squeal, they all rolled off.

The skeleton, muttering to itself, disappeared back under the shelves.

Once the furniture was out of sight, Nicolai emerged from his hiding place, slunk down the shelf, slipped back underneath, and then headed towards the skeleton. As he moved he did his best to remain connected to his Seed, re-spreading his Soul Sense. It let him feel Maric’s position before he could see the skeleton, but it wasn’t easy to move with it active, a skill he was unused to. As he drew closer, he purposefully made some noise so as not to startle the skeleton. Maric was sitting slumped and dispirited in the chair, but perked up when Nicolai appeared.

‘There you are! Where’d you go? I’ve got your books!’ Maric said.

‘I was avoiding the furniture,’ Nicolai replied, taking the stack of three books from Maric, bringing him up to four. ‘Thanks for these, I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve found the keys. Any idea on the best places to look first?’

Maric put a skeletal hand to its chin. ‘You could try the prison. The librarians—the other librarians, I mean, were all scattered. If they ran into trouble they may not have been recognised and ended up down there.’

‘I’ll have a look,’ said Nicolai. ‘Also, I found a box under your clutter with five Oma crystals, which I’ve taken.’ He figured the skeleton would notice anyway, eventually. Best to deal with its reaction now so he knew where they stood.

‘Uh? You… pawed through my things and stole my crystals?’ If Maric had possessed fleshy features, Nicolai had the impression they would have been creased in a frown.

‘No, no, it’s not stealing,’ Nicolai was quick to argue. ‘Think of it like this: you’ve got no use for them, they won’t help you get into the upper levels, right? Whereas for me, I need to get as strong as I can out there, so I can find those keys for you. These Oma crystals represent you investing in me, it’s you contributing to the act of me finding the keys — increasing the likelihood of our success in this venture.’

‘Well… I guess that’s one way of looking at it,’ said Maric. ‘I wasn’t using them anyway, I suppose,’ it added with a shrug.

Nicolai nodded, smiling. ‘Exactly. I appreciate your help.’

This was another situation where he figured it wise to just spout a bunch of bullshit, and was pleased that he’d managed to convince the skeleton by framing his act of stealing Maric’s crystals as a matter of “partnership” and “contributing to the joint venture”. Everything he’d said held a twisted logic, but at the core of the matter he was just stealing the crystals and would have done so regardless of his intentions to provide the skeleton any help.

‘Do you have anything else that might help me? Information, Imbued, Symbiotes, resources?’ he asked finally. ‘Remember, the better equipped I am, the more likely I survive to bring you those keys.’

The skeleton hummed thoughtfully. ‘Ah!’ it said then it poked around under the neck of its robe.

Nicolai saw that it had a number of necklaces, all the same, all with a flat little square of engraved metal hanging off them. It tugged one over its neck and handed it to Nicolai.

‘This is a library access token. The furniture and guard-poles will identify you as friendly so long as you’re wearing it, and not attack. It’s only a basic one so it won’t hold any sway outside of the library or at the higher levels, but down here it will protect you from them. Still, it’s unlikely you’ll need anything more. I think the guards for the upper portions have all moved on, by now.’

It handed the necklace to Nicolai who looked it over, seeing it carved with strange shapes, then examined it.

Library Access Token

Grants one the right to move freely within the lower levels of the Library. Each librarian is given one.

‘How’d you get so many?’ Nicolai asked, putting it on.

‘Oh, uhm, they were just lying around,’ said the skeleton with what could only be a guilty little start.

‘Of course.’ Nicolai smiled, acting as though he noticed nothing. ‘I’ll be off, then. Until we meet again.’

The skeleton waved as he left.

Nicolai was almost one-hundred percent certain the skeleton wasn’t a librarian. It might be the reason the real librarians weren’t here. He would have liked to examine it and see what hidden details might emerge, but if the skeleton knew he’d caught its lie it might do something rash in response. Best not to cause unnecessary trouble if he could avoid it. Once he’d completed its quest he could drag the truth out of it.

Emerging from under the pressing confines of the under-shelf, he opened the bag he’d made and stuffed the books inside, then hung it back over his shoulder and cut his connection to his Seed. It was fine to practise with it, but it was still too much of a distraction for him to risk keeping the Soul Sense active while heading towards a possible fight.

He headed back the same way he’d come, around the outside of the shelves, then wrapped around to where he’d entered. The library access token suggested he could have just walked right through the middle, but Nicolai would rather test that claim from the spot where he could quickly retreat than from deeper within.

He took his Seed into his hand and readied his Pegasi ring, preparing to fly if it all went wrong.

Nicolai stepped out from behind the shelf, into the view of the guard-pole, and also the view of the trio of furniture who appeared, waiting there. They turned to look at him, seeming startled. He thought it strange that each of them seemed to consider one side of themselves their “face” which they “saw” through. He wondered what the world looked like from their side.

The furniture didn’t turn aggressive, they just stared at him. The guard-pole was also non-reactive.

Nicolai offered them a friendly nod, figuring politeness cost nothing, and turned away, stepping onto the ledge then activating the ring as he bent his legs and pushed off into the air. He floated across the gap and touched down.

Job done.

Before leaving, he opted to test something. He felt he might have a way to complete Maric’s quest immediately.

He floated upwards toward the next level of the library above. When he arrived, he attempted to move over the balustrade into the next area, but a shield of light appeared. He ran his hands over it and found it firm and smooth, like glass. Whacking it with the pommel of his knife accomplished nothing. He’d had a feeling it wouldn’t be so simple. Nicolai floated back down.

Then a paranoid impulse made him reenter the library. It had occurred to him that, though it was a relatively minor matter, he should check for himself and not rely on the words of the skeleton, and so wanted to find and investigate the route to the upper levels.

He moved around the outside of the shelves, going the opposite direction as before. The furniture followed him, no longer hostile, merely curious. Halfway around he found a big door set in the wall. The door, he supposed, that would go up to the higher levels.

He thoroughly investigated it and did his best to get it open—the furniture didn’t appear to mind—but as Maric had said, it was locked up tight. Check complete, he returned, nodded once more to the furniture, and floated back out the exit. The torch wobbled left and right as he went, which could, possibly, have been a wave of farewell. He headed out into the castle, back toward his safe place.

He had no issues on the way to his chosen bridge between the bastions, no sign of the archers hunting him or anyone else. His Seed still had some Oma to spare, and though it felt a little pressed, it wasn’t strained. By the time he’d floated down to the bridge, sprinted across it and floated back up to the far side, that had changed and he felt a small amount of strain from it.

Just as he was about to head into his chosen tunnel to the living quarters, he heard a humming noise and twisted to see what it was. His eyes widened when he spotted a drone, staring at it for a frozen moment as he decided whether or not it really was a drone. But it was, it definitely was, a drone straight from Earth. He recognised the make, a Unified Tech Light Surveillance Drone, X9 model. It hovered a short distance away, camera fixed on him.

Someone was looking at him through that camera. He hunkered lower down, wary, backing into the tunnel, scanning the bastion across from him for movement.

Then the drone flashed a green light at him and moved over the walkway to his right, pulling back and forth, bobbing up and down. Nicolai recognised this as a non-verbal method of saying: follow me, follow me.

What did it want?

###

Jo sighted down her bolt action rifle, aiming at her drone, regretting her choice of location. Her vision was split, one half that of her eye staring down the rifle’s scope, the other half comprising the feed from her drones camera. She had the drone bob up and down, continuing to flash its green light at the man.

Come on… just a few steps closer. She gripped tight to her rifle, sweaty finger squeezing lightly on the trigger, ready.

There was a chunk of bridge between her and where he stood, blocking her shot. If he could just come out a little further, he would be in her line of sight. She wasn’t sure how she’d get over there to retrieve his Seed, but knew she’d find a way.

Once he was dead she could take whatever he used to fly; that would make her life significantly easier. If only she’d gotten here a moment earlier. She’d been just in time to see him float up off one of the bridges, then by the time she’d set her rifle up and loaded it with one of her precious rounds, he’d gotten out of her field of fire.

‘Come on, come on,’ she hissed, watching him through the camera. The man was tall with short dark hair and a fuzz of beard, clothed in bloodied rags, bandage on one arm. He was just staring at the drone, not reacting to her attempt to lure him out of cover. After a moment he turned away and walked into the darkness of a tunnel.

‘Fuck.’ Jo sighed, her tension draining with the expelled air, lowering the rifle. For a moment she felt relief, but then regret and anger washed it away and she felt an urge to punch the stone.

Movement drew her gaze, and she pulled her rifle back into position, re-activating her aiming chip. The chip’s skills entered her body and she held the rifle tight against her shoulder, vision magnified through the scope, finger tight on the trigger.

She saw a pair of people, crossing a bridge; a bridge she knew how to get to. An old man and a young woman. They were chatting, carefree.

Jo took aim, and tried to pull the trigger, but her finger wouldn’t move. ‘Come on,’ she begged herself. ‘She needs this.’

Do it, do it, kill them, she told her chip, glad she had an uninhibited one, glad it could do this for her. It acted, moving her body, guiding the rifle into position. Her other eye flicked to check the movements of a faded flag fluttering from a pole over the bridge, then she adjusted her aim to take the wind and distance into account. The chip made her breathe out as her finger squeezed the trigger.

The rifle punched her in the shoulder and the savage boom of the gunshot rolled out, artificial thunder that echoed off the walls, the undead guarding some of the bridges jerking in alarm.

The old man fell. The woman was running.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Jo sobbed as she racked the bolt and fed a new round into the gun, as her rifle followed the target and as her finger squeezed the trigger.