Victor of Tucson

When Darren left the Genesis Center, he’d had the determined mindset he often felt when he knew he had to prove somebody wrong. If he had the self-awareness to look back on his life, he might have seen a pattern—failure leading to perceived judgment from others, leading to him trying to demonstrate how he’d been right by any means necessary. He’d tried other tactics; he’d tried doing things “their way” many times. In fact, hadn’t he tried to put himself in Y-seven’s hands? Was it his fault they wouldn’t help him unlock his potential? How would he prove himself to Victor and everyone back home if he settled for a middling Core and the least of his affinities?

Part of him was angry Y-seven had ever told him about all of his potential, especially if he’d intended to deny him access to the knowledge he’d need to tap into it. Still, another part of him was grateful. Even if they wouldn’t help him, they’d at least made him aware of the latent gifts waiting beneath the surface. He wasn’t meant to be a failure; would a failure have so many potent affinities?

Those were the types of thoughts running through his mind as he made his way through the city, further and further from the great crystalline towers at its center, toward the glowing dot on his magical map—Rodar’s Emporium of Esoteric Knowledge. The directory didn’t list things as plainly as he would have liked; there were no entries for “Core Building Instruction,” “Affinity Tutoring,” or any of the other hundreds of ideas he’d searched for. What it boiled down to, he’d decided, was that he sought knowledge and, so, he’d searched under the subheading for libraries and book shops, and that’s when he’d settled on Rodar’s business. It just sounded right. At the very least, perhaps this Rodar person would be able to direct him to the right place.

The further he wandered from the city center and the area where he and his traveling companions had secured lodging, the more diverse and strange the populace seemed. He saw clusters of beings who looked more like deep sea creatures than people—tentacles, sometimes floating, with eyestalks and clothing made of living moss. He saw a man—he assumed based on the beard—with nine-foot-long legs that seemed to be made of hardwood, a turtle’s shell, and flesh as green as a granny smith apple. He passed a group of dog-like ruffians who gave him menacing stares but either feared the laws of Sojourn or determined he wasn’t worth their time.

At one street corner, he walked by a group of children with red, beetle-like bodies and long, black antennae. If he were describing them to a friend, he might say he saw some humanoid ladybugs. Along with the innumerable variations in people, the construction of the buildings grew less and less uniform as he meandered. He saw domes made of colored glass, a cylindrical tower with a dozen steam-venting chimneys, and an inverted silo-type building with an endless winding stairway leading down into depths too distant for his eyes to see. He stood against the wrought-iron railing around that open pit and stared for a long while, wondering what sorts of people might live or work in such a strange place rather than above ground in the wonderous city.

Despite his many ogling pauses, eventually, he came to his destination—a large, two-story red-brick building decorated with a dozen elaborate murals. He stood before the wooden door with its inlaid polished stones, admiring the fanciful landscape painted around it. His eyes traced the green hills, the bright stars, and the young, very human-seeming woman leaning against a tree, reading a book, wonder on her face. The artwork reminded him of something he’d seen as a kid, something on a book cover, perhaps, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. After a while, feeling good about his decision to visit that particular establishment, he opened the door and stepped into Rodar’s Emporium.

Darren was struck by something like vertigo as he walked over the threshold. His brain reeled at the disparity between his expectation and the reality of the interior—shelves of books, equipped with rolling ladders, rose up to a ceiling that had to be a hundred feet above his head. The central row, into which the door opened, stretched so far into the distance that the counter and bookcases behind it seemed tiny from his perspective. The store’s interior might well have been the single largest room he’d ever seen, and he’d been in some considerable auditoriums in his day. What boggled his mind, even more than the space that couldn’t possibly fit inside the building he’d seen, was that it was utterly crammed with books.

If there were other patrons in the shop, he couldn’t see them. Of course, a thousand bookcases were obscuring his view in every direction other than straight ahead, so there was no telling if he were alone. After he gathered himself, accepting that this was undoubtedly just a very advanced use of the same spatial and dimensional magic that made his storage pouches work, he started forward, aiming for the distant counter, hoping there was a proprietor to help him find the knowledge he sought.

He'd only traversed the first hundred yards before a deep voice cleared its throat and spoke up from off to his right, coming from behind the nearest towering bookcase. “Welcome in, stranger. Might I help you find something?”

Darren paused and looked at the case, peering between a shelf and the books below it, trying to spy the speaker. “Um, hello. I certainly hope so because I’m quite overwhelmed by the number of books I see!”

“Haha! Yes, old Rodar is quite the collector. He buys out libraries regularly.” As he spoke, a figure emerged from behind the books, surprising Darren with his appearance. Despite his deep voice, he was quite diminutive, a three-foot-tall man who looked remarkably like a bipedal hedgehog wearing a green and brown pinstriped vest and pants. “I am Rodar’s assistant, Ferl.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Darren.” He gestured around him at the cavernous space and its millions of books and asked, “Is there any sort of system to all of this?”

“Oh, of course! Rodar wrote the cataloging spells himself. We have sprites that gather and organize the books on a constant basis.”

“Sprites?”

“You aren’t familiar? Magical entities with a penchant for various things. The ones Rodar employs are knowledge sprites or book sprites. Hmm, I believe he has an ink sprite or two. In any case, they keep things well organized and maintain Rodar’s catalog.” He stepped closer, peering through beautifully crafted, amber-tinted crystal spectacles up at Darren. “What can old Ferl help you find, youngster?”

Darren was slightly taken aback by the little, furry man’s choice of words, but he held his tongue, trying to remember some of the humility he’d been working so hard to display when near Victor and his companions. “I, well, you see, I come from a world where Energy is very new. I don’t know much about it or Cores and whatnot. I was hoping to find some texts to learn from.”

“Ah! I’m sure I can find quite a lot on that subject, but have you visited the Genesis . . .”

Darren held up a hand, cutting him off. “I’ve been there and learned a few things, but it’s not for me. I prefer self-study.”

“Well, this is the right place for that. Let’s see here.” Ferl held out his left palm, and a heavy black, leather-bound book appeared. “My copy of the catalog,” he said by way of explanation. He placed his pointer finger atop an inlaid silver rune and closed his eyes. When he opened them a moment later, the book flipped open, and the pages, thin and densely filled with text, fanned with a rustling whir. Several seconds later, the pages stopped moving, and Ferl peered at the page the book had settled on. “Row ninety-seven, stack fourteen, shelves one through eighty-four.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“That was quick. Can you point me in . . .”

“I’ll lead you there. Not much else to do, if I’m honest. The sprites handle most of my job.” Ferl turned and began waddling, for there wasn’t a better way to describe his gait, up the central aisle. “Other sections might suit your needs, but I think this is the best one. It’s categorized as ‘Core Development by Affinity Type.’ Have you purchased books from Rodar’s before?”

“No, this is my first visit.”

“In that case, I should explain the usage policy—Rodar doesn’t run a charity. You may peruse the books at your leisure, but the enchantments of this emporium will prevent you from seeing anything beyond the first one percent of the pages.”

“That’s . . . fair. So, if I want to read more, I’ll need to purchase the books?”

“Exactly so.”

“What if you have a book with only a single page?”

“Hah! I can’t say I’ve seen any single-page books, but we do have many with fewer than a hundred. We also sell scrolls. You can rest assured, my good lad, the magic is clever. It will prevent you from reading more than a single percent of the content. My earlier explanation is generally enough for the youngsters we get in the emporium. I’m impressed by your curious wit!”

Darren couldn’t ignore the continued references to his age, so he asked, “Excuse me, Ferl, but how old do you think I am?”

“Oh, I’ve no idea! We get all sorts of species in here, and they all have different ideas about what constitutes adulthood.”

“But you keep calling me things like youngster. Why is that?”

“Well, you’ve barely a whiff of Energy about you! I assumed you were a child.”

“No, I’m a grown man, sir. As I said, Energy is new to our world.”

“Apologies, then, sir.” Though his words said one thing, his tone said another—Ferl was patronizing him, Darren was sure. Regardless, he let the matter drop; he needed the little man’s help, after all. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you come to visit Sojourn? Surely, if you’ve not even had a chance to cultivate a Core, you couldn’t have built up a System stone capable of transporting you here. Did a powerful Energy user visit your world? Did they open a portal for you?”

“Yes, sir, something along those lines.” As they walked, turning down one long row of books after another, Darren plied the furry, well-dressed little man for information. “How will I know the cost of a book? Will you stay with me while I peruse?”

“Each book is clearly marked with a price in Energy beads. Rodar has been known to consider other trades, but we’d prefer to keep our exchanges simple. As for whether I’ll stay with you, that’s entirely up to you. As I said, I’ve time to help, and so long as another customer doesn’t require my service, I will be happy to attend you.”

“Well, thank you. Are there books that are . . .” Darren tried to think of the best way to phrase his question. He’d been about to say “banned” but figured that might be a bit too severe a term. “Restricted to certain, um, castes?”

“Restricted? That’s the case, though caste would be the wrong word. Rodar protects the innocent by placing dangerous books in a separate section.”

“Dangerous? As in dangerous ideas, or do you mean something more literal?”

“Oh, quite literal! Some books would turn you or me to dust if we read them; their contents are meant for those of significant power.”

“So, these books, the ones you’re taking me to see, will they have information about all sorts of affinities and Cores or only those deemed appropriate by society?”

“Society? Why, this world is a crossroads. You realize this, yes? What one society deems acceptable, another might consider abhorrent. Rodar, wisely, does not take sides.”

“Just what I wanted to hear, Ferl. Thank you.” As he spoke, Ferl stopped walking and gestured to the towering stack of shelves on his left.

“Here we are, Darren. Now, I can help you sift through these if you’ll just tell me the affinities you are interested in. I believe that’s how the sprites sorted them . . .” He paused and ran his finger along the spines on a shelf at his nose level. “Yes, yes, that’s it. Here we have a whole row about Cores for various nature affinities.”

“That will be very helpful! Let’s see, I’m most interested in learning about chaos and mind affinities. Do you think there are any books on those subjects?”

“Chaos and mind? My, my! I see why you were curious about Rodar’s policies on restricted subject matter. No matter, no matter. Let’s see here . . .” Ferl’s words trailed off as he peered through his special glasses at the shelf, his odd, button-like black nose twitching as he mumbled titles to himself.

Darren grinned, excitement filling his belly with butterflies, relief washing over him, banishing the unspoken worries he’d been battling the entire time they’d walked through the bookstore. Part of him had been sure the books he sought would be locked away or banned from sale in the city. He’d thought that if the Genesis Center was so concerned about the affinities, undoubtedly, the city would have rules about them. He’d feared he’d have to find an illicit merchant, someone selling things on a black market of sorts. “I love a free market,” he said, mostly to himself, but he thought he saw an answering gleam in Ferl’s eyes.

#

Victor swore he felt his body coming apart, shredded, atom by atom. It was the most agonizing thing he’d ever experienced, and though it happened in an instant, it felt more like a thousand years. Time stretched and yawned, light bent and streamed around him, the individual waves of photons speckling his vision in cascades of brilliant dots. Not a single thought entered his mind while, simultaneously, he re-experienced every second of his lifetime. He thought he’d go mad; he thought he was mad, his consciousness dashed to bits by the potent, solar-system-moving power of the hive channeled through the emissary’s hand into Victor.

Later, when he looked back at the experience, he’d never be able to truly recall the horror of that infinite-seeming instant, as that moment of time and space dilated to infinity and then snapped back, ripping him from one part of the universe and inserting him into another without care or concern for the rules of physics. One second, Victor was standing in the enormous square, looking at the giant beetle; the next, he was in an empty glass-walled room, looking down at the curve of a verdant green planet as whatever carried him descended through layers of swirling, silver Energy. That time between, that eternity of horror, disappeared from his mind, and all he remembered was that instant, hurtling transition.

When he felt the glass beneath his feet and saw the madness of the view before him, Victor fell to his knees and heaved his guts out onto the smooth surface. As the contents of his stomach—his most recent meal and a large quantity of fluid—sloshed away from him toward the smooth curve where the glass wall met the glass floor, hot embarrassment flushed his neck and ears, and he looked up to see the emissary regarding him. “Are you unwell?” it asked.

“The . . . transition,” Victor started to say, unable to find the words to explain what had made him ill. He felt like something had happened during the teleportation, something that had bothered him, but it was like trying to remember a dream; all he could grasp was the vaguely disturbed sensation that something bad had occurred.

“Ah. The transport, while survivable, was difficult for you to tolerate. This one did not experience difficulty, but other members of the hive have suffered worse. It is good that you yet live.”

“Was,” Victor coughed and stood up, his wooziness fading. “Was it in doubt? Were you not sure I’d live through that?”

“We were certain your flesh would tolerate the transport, but we failed to consider the fragility of your mind. We’ll endeavor to modify our transport spell for your return, ensuring an easier transition for your consciousness.”

“That would be nice.” Victor coughed again, summoned a bottle of water from his ring, and drank it. He was starting to feel normal again; the sensation that something was wrong had nearly faded. Looking down, he wasn’t surprised to see that his vomit was gone; somehow, the emissary, or perhaps whatever vehicle they were in, had cleaned it up. The “vehicle” passed through another swirling, shimmering layer of silvery Energy—Victor wasn’t sure how he knew it was Energy, but somehow he did. As the sparkling flashes faded, he saw that they were much closer to the planet’s surface, enough so that he could make out individual trees.

“Big trees,” he noted.

“Vast and wonderful in their ability to house and channel Energy.” The emissary didn’t say more, but it didn’t need to. Victor could feel the Energy in the air; not only were they passing through dense rings or layers of it, but the planet felt like a smoldering roiling ball of it to his inner eye, the one that saw and felt Energy in and around himself. In the past, he’d looked inward to his Core and been proud and impressed by the power there. Now, in the face of this planet and the power radiating from it, he felt like a spec of dust being tossed around in Jupiter’s atmosphere. He was nothing to the power before him.

He blurted the thought that came to mind, unable to stop the words forming on his tongue, “You guys don’t need my DNA.”

“This one is not familiar with the term.”

“My genetics. The information in my ‘seed,’ as you put it.”

“Ah. The hive wishes to expand its universe. Thus, all knowledge has value. We will learn much of interest from your elder genetics.”

“Expand? Are you going to take over other solar systems like this one?”

“We think not. We are on the verge of something monumental, something that will allow us to release our hold on our origin world. Soon, we will transcend the need for other-made matter and Energy. Soon, we will spark our first hive-made sun.”

“Spark . . .” Victor swallowed, unable to think of a proper reply. Instead, he asked, “You always say we or this one. Am I ever going to meet you? Are you the queen speaking through this emissary?”

“We have met. This one contains part of me, as do all members of the hive. Still, when you meet the queen, you will meet one with individual thoughts. Brace yourself, for the transport will now rapidly descend. Behold and be honored—you are the first outside individual to visit the brooding palace.” The emissary gestured to the clear glass wall, and Victor looked to see that the trees he’d thought enormous were, in fact, absurdly so.

He hadn’t had anything to measure them against until now, but as he looked out, he saw a pyramid growing huge as the ship, or whatever it was, rapidly approached. It was a smooth-sided, pale, rust-colored structure, but the slopes were decorated with immense carvings of ivid faces, their eyes tiled with millions of glittering, blue and black gemstones. He barely registered the pyramid, though, because he kept dragging his eyes back to the trees that towered over it, dozens of times larger. From the perspective as they approached, he guessed that the pyramid was several thousand feet tall at its apex, meaning the millions of trees they’d flown over were miles tall.

“Holy shit.”

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