Syn’s fingers ran across a metal grate along the base of the floor. A vent! It wasn’t large. It was quite small. Her fingers traced out the border. It wasn’t that small, though. And Syn was thin.
The bookcase crashed to the ground, and Arquella spoke, “Where are you?” Other muffled voices followed after. Other bots.
Syn pressed her fingers into the edges of the grate. I have to get this off! Syn tasted salt and realized she was crying. The grate wasn’t budging. It was flat against the wall. She pulled, and her fingers snapped back as one of her nails ripped. “Blast!”
Arquella said, “What are you doing? Why are so scared?”
Syn chastised herself for speaking. She pulled on the grate again, trying from another angle. It budged, only slightly, but it did move.
“The closet.” The deduction was followed by a sharp smash as something slammed against the closet door. Syn jumped, panic coursing through her.
Frightened, Syn pulled once more, her fear blocking out all other thoughts, all other emotions. The grate gave, and she jerked back, smacking against the wall as her own leverage worked against her. Blip, I need you!
Syn slid into the hole and the ductwork with a surprising bit of room on both sides. A burly wouldn’t make it. Arquella definitely wouldn’t. But Syn was made for this.
The door smashed open, slamming forward and blocking Arquella’s view of Syn’s bare feet sliding into the small hole in the wall.
“Where are you? Where are you?” The desperate, confused words of the bot echoed. “Please. Don’t leave. Don’t run! We won’t hurt you! We promise.” Other bots, their voices jumbled, echoed the girl’s.
As Syn crawled, she heard another voice from far behind—a deep rumble that she had already connected with trust. “Blip will be fine. He’s okay now. You don’t have to run.” It came from the Barlgharel.
Syn froze in the passage, her hands against the cold metal.
Behind her, the Barlgharel spoke again, “Don’t be scared. Please. We won’t keep you here. You can go for your friend. You don’t have to run. Just rest. We can help you.”
Syn breathed out a deep sigh. She spoke back, “I have to get to him.”
He replied, “I know. He’s okay.”
“How do you know Blip is safe?”
The Barlgharel rumbled, “I didn’t say he was safe. I said he’s okay. My friend told me, and she’s usually right.”
“A friend?”
“Blip has been taken by the Crimson Queen,” the Barlgharel said, “We’ll show you where she lives. You’re safe amongst us.”
“Who? Why would she take him?” Syn stammered.
“Come out and we’ll talk.”
Syn slammed her fist on the ground. Should she go back? Why had she panicked? Was she that scared of being locked up? Had she lived so long on her own that others scared her? She had wanted to be around others—to know other voices besides Blip’s and her own. She hadn’t expected them to be bots, but still… When she had her opportunity, she freaked out. She ran.
Syn whispered, “You promise?” And inside, something older chattered, It’s not safe. It’s not safe.
It was Arquella who answered, “Yes. I said that.”
Syn shouted back, “I want the Barlgharel to promise.”
His deep voice spoke, “I promise.”
21
THE BLESSING OF THE JOURNEY
“In attempting to construct such machines, … we are, in either case, instruments of His will providing mansions for the souls that He creates.”
The Barlgharel’s luminescent green and daunting worm-like form stood peering from the hallway through the splintered door. He motioned for Syn to follow, and although apprehensive of the fanatic and excited Arquella floating behind him, Syn accepted his invitation. Syn inched out to stand before him.
The Barlgharel escorted her down the stairs—although each stair creaked and moaned under his tremendous weight— and out of the house. Syn kept her hand on her spear, the point of the blade tipped forward, if ever-so-slightly. From time to time, her own shaking hand would telegraph through the spear, and the point would wobble until she would catch the movement out of the corner of her eye, then steady herself, willing her shaking to stop. If only Blip were here. He’d just start counting, and… But that was no use. Blip wasn’t here, and she was.
Angry at the moment, angry at Blip’s stupid choice to be captured, angry at herself for insisting on going through the gate, she didn’t speak. That didn’t stop the Ecology. Around her, they all whispered. Eye-bots, cleaning bots, medics. The entire array of bots flowed out from the various buildings to stand around them.
The pathway opened up from just the standard walkway in the residential areas. Planter boxes and cement seating areas littered the ever-expanding spaces. Common areas that had once been filled with running children and couples having lunch under the sunstrips were now littered with the muddied bobbing shells of the growing throng of bots. The staggered creaking and mechanical grinding of the assorted bots’ legs as they moved created its own white noise.
As the bots flooded in, as the crowds grew larger, the scenery changed. Scattered in the darkness, new bright panels overlaid the soot-covered walls of the world that had come before. It was a gradual transition. No precise border existed. Instead, each meter or so, something else was added until not long after, the new world enveloped them. Scrubbed white panels, as bright as chalk and sunlight, covered every surface. Across the bleached flats, paint flowed—an array of geometric designs overlaying strange interpretations of trees and animals. A starscape across the ceiling and floor, lit with neon colors, erupted. Some paint fell flat and others glowed as if luminescent—perhaps it was, shining its own light upon Syn. She smiled briefly, awash in the spectacle, her own dark skin reflecting the orange and blue array around them.
“Where are we?” Syn allowed the words to escape.
The Barlgharel’s deep voice replied, “The Cradle. We have crafted this into a home.”
She lit up the world wherever she walked, but none of the light she brought to this dark world could illuminate it more than what the bots had crafted here. Her own light paled.
Under the multi-spectral lights, bot after bot, some tall and some short, clambered to see the new visitor. Several of the bots that were the size of large animals supported on thin legs ambled by, their hides painted an odd blue—she had seen nothing like them on her Disc. Syn jerkily stepped between their legs. Around the other bots, several that were shattered and showing signs of disrepair came into view. Most of these had damaged shells ranging from small cracks to entire plates missing. One bot, a thin beast with a clear glass shell that had been used to transport plants from one garden to another, wobbled into the pathway. Its left-hand side had been completely removed—wires dangled back and forth. Syn was unsure how he managed to stay mobile. Is that one alive like Arquella? What’s he feeling right now? Maybe I could… The sight of him and the rush of compassion caused her to falter in her steps.