“You’re ignoring me, that’s what you’re doing. A bit rude, isn’t it? I mean, don’t you think? First person I’ve spoken to in...however long I’ve been down here, and I was hoping for a better conversationalist. How long have I been down here, do you think?”
Using the two rods, Lindon seized the metal ball and carefully raised it out of the pool.
“Oh! Wait, what are you doing! Careful, there! Careful! If you drop me, I will take...revenge...on you. Such sweet revenge, like...hitting all your...toenails.”
Lindon lowered the flashing ball to the ground. Now that it was out of the well, he could see that the light coming from the construct was the same purple shade. Now, had the liquid taken on that color because of the construct, or vice-versa?
“Oh wow, I can see so much more from out here. Thank you, giant stranger. Giant...glaring stranger. Are you angry at me, or do you scowl at everyone you meet?”
Lindon almost dropped the ball. “...are you talking to me?”
Everything else had sounded like a conversation, sure. But constructs only said what you told them to say. All of those responses had been recorded illusions, scripted to be played under the proper conditions.
The ball shifted in his hands, as though looking around for other people. “Nobody else in here has much to say, really. Although I suppose I was like that before, too, wasn’t I? That’s embarrassing.”
Lindon had to ask something that couldn’t possibly be a predetermined response. “What is your favorite flavor of pie?”
“...I’m not a pie-construct, am I? What I know about pie could fill a...a little...the tiny scoop you use to eat soup.”
“A spoon?”
“No, that can’t be right. That’s ridiculous. Spoon. Get out of here with your nonsense words.”
Lindon knelt down next to the construct on the ground, staring intently through the cracks in the metal, aching to pick it up but still afraid of touching the purple liquid. “Are you a Remnant that they bound like a construct?”
“I am the Keeper of the Dream Well!” the construct intoned from within its rusty shell. “I was built right here. Well, not right here in this room, obviously, but down the hall a little. A guide-construct, that was me, made to give people the rules of the Dream Well. ‘Congratulations, favored servant! You have been chosen to drink from the Dream Well, so that your labor might serve the great work!’ That sort of thing. That’s why I have such a pleasant voice.”
“But you’re...thinking,” Lindon said, still peering into the construct. In the purple sparks making up the construct’s true body, he saw what looked like the spokes of a slowly turning wheel.
“That’s a relatively new development. Some time after I fell in the well, I realized I could put words together in new combinations. Then I realized I’d realized it, and that was the beginning for me, wasn’t it? The ‘realization cascade,’ that’s what I call it! I don’t call it that.”
Incredible. Was it only long exposure to this Dream Well that brought the construct to life, or did this reflect the advanced craft of a Soulsmith skilled beyond his imagination?
“Do you have a name?” Lindon braced himself and seized the rusted construct, cycling madra to resist the effects of whatever the dream-water did.
Nothing. It felt like ordinary wet metal against his fingertips.
“Before landing in the well, I was basically a big ball of memories with the ability to produce sound, so I didn’t have much in the way of casual conversation. But they did call me things, let me see if I can remember...garbage, that was a common one. Defect. Junk. Chaff. Waste. By-product of a failed experiment. Failure, that was another favorite. Dregs. Slag. Scum. Refuse. Dross. These aren’t very flattering, are they?”
“Pleased to meet you, Dross,” Lindon said, dipping his head slightly to the construct. “I am Wei Shi Lindon.”
“Oh, you have a name too! That’s exciting. This is the first real conversation I’ve ever had. And I am loving it, by the way. Less...intellectually stimulating than I had imagined. I was picturing myself debating with great minds, you know, but this is still exciting! I’m still excited to be talking with...you.”
“Forgiveness, but a minute ago you didn’t know what a spoon was.”
“Yes, but I know how to say ‘intellectually stimulating’ and ‘refuse.’ Let’s call it a tie.”
Lindon nodded to the glowing purple water. “You changed after falling in the well?”
“It’s designed to boost focus and eliminate mental fatigue in humans,” Dross said. “One sip, and you’ll be able to work all night at peak efficiency! That was part of my pitch for the water, back in my prime.”
Lindon moved a little closer to the pool. “Well then, I think I might try a taste.” There were elixirs that refined the mind, and they were expensive.
“If anything, it will make you more alert and focused. Might even make you smarter, which ah...no offense, but...I mean, you should just take a drink. Let’s leave it at that. Vials are over there on the shelf to your right.”
Lindon found a rack of thumb-sized metal vials, capped in a substance that felt like wax. He pulled off the cap and dipped it into the well; a small amount splashed on his thumb, but it still felt like normal water.
He still had his misgivings about drinking a strange purple liquid, but he felt nothing sinister from the well. And it was obviously here for a reason; to water the workers made sense. If others had drunk from this, he could as well.
Also, the thirst was starting to get painful.
He tipped his head back and swallowed the mouthful of water from the flask. He expected a stronger flavor, somehow, or some rush of power, but it was just water. It had the mineral taste of spring-water.
An instant later, the effects kicked in.
His thoughts sharpened. The mental haze of exhaustion was swept away. The world around him was clear, like his eyes had been cleaned out, and he took a breath of air like it was his first.
Little Blue scurried up his back and onto his head, leaning over to give him a pat on the forehead.
“I told you,” the construct said. “Invigorating power to keep those motivated movers moving and those tired thinkers thinking. That was one of the mottos I was working on for the Dream Well, what do you think?”
“It’s like a full night’s sleep in a bottle,” Lindon said, staring into the empty vial.
“Oh, that’s a good motto for the well. I’ll use that. The water also helps you focus when you’re distracted, approach complex problems with new inspiration, or you can freeze it into little bits of ice and use it to make an ordinary drink glow purple.”
Lindon filled the vial.
“Now, it is incredibly valuable. I’ll have to check and see if you have authorization to take a second...oh, you’re drinking it. You’re already drinking it.”
The second draught didn’t seem to have much effect. It was mostly like taking a refreshing drink of ordinary water.
“I didn’t get much from that. How long before it will have the same effect again?”
“However long it takes a human to get tired, I guess. When you’re already focused and alert, I’m not sure what else it could possibly do for you. That’s a thousand high-grade scales per dose, by the way. In case you were wondering.”
There was a whole shelf of similar vials, and Lindon was already filling them. When he looked at the purple rivulets on the floor, it physically pained him to imagine how much of this precious elixir had been wasted down drainage grates over the years.
“Has no one else been down here?” He couldn’t imagine that other sacred artists would leave a treasure like this alone.