I live in London, or at least I used to. Sotis Id go into the city, usually by bus, to where all the famous buildings are. Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palacethese iconic landmarks steeped in history, full of endeavour and accomplishnt.
And Id feel nothing.
Id seen them so many tis, in photographs, in movies, exploding, aeroplanes crashing into them, people crawling up their sides and running across their roofs, they didnt even look real. I barely noticed them, most of the ti.
They were just things surrounding , no different to the Starbucks on the corner or an anonymous office block.
People talk about culture and tradition as though their importance is self-explanatory. It isnt to . Patriotism? Why? Other than pure self-interest, why is the place where I live any more important than anywhere else?
Even when Ive been in a crowd of people thoroughly enjoying themselves, maybe a concert or a festival, Ive never felt part of sothing bigger than myself. Ive never felt connected to the tribe. I never get carried away by the excitent of others.
It made feel like I was a bit broken. Part of the human experience was denied to , and it looked like a fairly important part.
Standing on the rim of a mountain, staring at an alien landscape, made feel sothing I dont think Ive ever genuinely felt before: awe.
It didnt look like a postcard or a scene from a movie. It looked real. And new.
The sky over the dunes was different to the blanket of clouds that had sat over us since wed arrived in this world. It was an unending sky with depth that couldnt be fathod. Like looking at a fild fireplace on an HD screen and marvelling at how realistic it appeared, and then looking at an actual fire and realising the fake wasnt even close.
There were stars. The longer I stared at the sky, the more stars appeared, as though my presence was summoning them, although more likely my eyes were just taking ti to adjust. These werent just tiny pinholes arranged in patterns, they moved. So streaked, flickered, so went out as I watched.
A glow on the horizon grew into a ball of dim green light. It looked like a moon but maybe half the size of our own. And it had rings around it like Saturn, but rings that spanned both horizontally and vertically, crossing each other.
It was astonishing. We all stood there, silently taking in the wonder, and we didnt even need to wear 3D specs.
Light from the stars reflected off the surface below us in a way that seed impossible, dancing and swirling as winds shifted the sands. Dunes elongated into mountains, and then collapsed. Invisible hands seed to shape towers and valleys, not in the way waves move across a sea, but forming solid, twisting, gravity-defying structures that look like they could stand a hundred years, only to be wiped away and replaced by sothing even more fantastical.
And what did all this wondernt make think? That such beauty shouldnt be lost? That only evil would seek to destroy these things for its own selfish ends? That I had to do all I could to prevent such a thing from happening?
No.
I felt like this massive jumble of a universe didnt need saving. Even if I had the ability to do sothing about it, what would it achieve? All acts were temporary. Nothing lasted. Change was inevitable.
Or was it?
I turned to Phil who was standing beside . Can you stop ti? I just want to check sothing.
He snapped his fingers and everything froze in place. Not just the sands, but the stars too. A whole universe fixed in place. An aweso power. Nothing moved apart from us, but sothing had changedthe feeling of wonder was gone. It looked unreal, like a Jas Caron special effect. Impressive but artificial.
We could stop bad things from happening, but it ant stopping all things from happening. And then what?
Thanks, I said to Phil, thats enough. I turned around and walked back to the stables. Inside, the boxes had quieted down. I think they may have been sleeping, but how the hell would you tell?
288 was standing exactly where wed left him. He was a bit of a wonder himself. A walking penis that could do household chores. Every womans dream.
Are you okay? Jenny had followed back. The others were straggling in behind her.
Yes, I said. Tired. Sotis it would be nice to take a day off and just Netflix and chill. Theres probably a ton of overrated shows we could binge-watch and get absolutely nothing done.
Sounds good. I like sappy romances that end badly, fair warning.
We crashed in the stalls that were empty. Cheng stayed with Mandy who had cald down a bit and allowed us to eat the rest of her supplies. Im pretty sure I got the smallest portions out of everyone but I didnt care. Doughnuts are bad for you, so maybe she was watching out for .
Maurice and Claire took 288 with them into their stall. Not for anything kinky (at least, I hope not) but because 288 was going to read the manual to Maurice. Claire kept her distance, which seed a bit unreasonable. Not like she hadnt handled worse. Its really not fair to hold it against a guy because he used to be a dick (as I keep telling people).
Phil and David shared a stall. Phil looked knackered. He had used his ability number of tis and it had sapped his strength. If we were going to use him in the tournant, wed have to figure out a way to do it efficiently. There was no point getting Cheng into the finals and then find Phil had run out of juice. If it was possible for other people to use the device, that might be a viable workaround, but first Id have to convince Phil to show the rest of us how to operate his device. Which ant first getting him to admit there was a device.
David, on the other hand, was fixated on finding Yuqi. That presented a whole other set of problems, although if he did manage to drag her back into the world of the living maybe she wouldnt be quite so powerful as she was in the darkness.
So much going on, it really made head spin thinking about it.
What are we going to do tomorrow? Jenny asked as we lay on the straw bedding wed piled up in the stall.
Find the treasury and hope theres sothing OP in there.
Does it really matter? said Jenny. As long as we make sure Cheng wins the tournant, we should be okay, right?
If everything goes to plan, yes. How often has everything gone to plan?
She put her head on my chest and wrapped her legs around mine. She didnt answer because she didnt need to. We both knew there were a thousand things that could go wrong, and only one that could go right.
That might sound like terrible odds, but it wasnt evenly distributed. An action guided by purpose will always have a better chance of succeeding than random fuckwittery, especially if you brace to expect the fuckwittery and prepare to dodge.
The one good thing was sothing we were actively pursuing. The thousand bad ones were just things the universe threw around to amuse itself, not really caring if they stuck or not. Of course, so things are unavoidable. So universes excel at being fuckwits. If this was that sort of universe, then it deserved what was coming to it.
Strange sounds woke the following morning. Scuffling and scratching. If flappy-boxes had sex I imagine it wouldnt sound too dissimilar. I rolled Jenny off and crawled out of the stall. It was quite dark and hard to locate the source of the noise. I peeked into the neighbouring stall.
Maurice sat cross-legged with his notebook out and a small light attached to the end of his pencil to write by.
I didnt know you could do that, I said, pointing at the light.
He looked at it and then back to . Cant get it bigger than this, but not bad for a noob.
Claire was asleep next to him, one hand closed in a fist around the hem of his shirt. One way to make sure your boyfriend doesnt leave you, I guess.
Did you find out anything new from the manual?
Maurice turned his body and pointed the light at the corner of the stall. 288 was crouched over the manual, reading it to himself. He was so absorbed he didnt react to the light at all.
Not really that useful, said Maurice. Basically, soone got hold of a wagon, reverse engineered a controller and started selling them. Problem was, they didnt co with a wagon and its pretty hard to get hold of one. If we can smuggle a few out, we could make a killing. He grinned at , ever the entrepreneur. Most of the manuals sales guff. I told 288 to read it by himself and let know if he cos across anything interesting.
You think hell be able to tell? I asked.
Maurice shrugged. I did get so useful information out of him about the masters. Their fighting styles, their preferred weapons, even their nas. He pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose.
Really? You can pronounce their nas?
Well, no. But Ive done close approximations for them. He handed his notebook over to . There were rough sketches of the masters with nas next to each. Comfort, Unscathed, Dark lody, Skull Face, Cheeser, Manly, Killdozer, Gamba and Bisquick.
You had to hand it to Maurice, he put the ti in.
Nice. I thought his Dad sounded more like Biscuit. I handed the notebook back.
Sure. We can call him that. He made an adjustnt.
There was a flutter of wings and more scuffling. I stumbled out of the stall in ti to witness a mass exodus of flappy-boxes. They flew out of their stalls and through the doorway in a swarm, sohow not smashing into each other.
I followed them out. There must have been dozens of them flying off into the pink-white sky, forming a V-shaped formation like geese.
The others slowly ca out to stand beside and watch them circle us as the sky lightened.
The golems were still standing to attention, ignoring us and the flock of boxes. A tremor under my feet drew my attention to the other side of the mountaintop. The masters erged through the Palace gates. They looked quite chipper as they stomped towards us.
We leave to collect our tributes, said Chengs father. Will you co with us?
I have my tribute already, said Cheng placing a hand on Mandys shoulder. Her face was a mixture of dread and relief. Sure, she was being selected as a form of nourishnt, but its still nice to be chosen.
Biscuit nodded. You may train as you see fit, but the golems have been instructed to make sure none of our guests leaves the stables. The golems turned and began walking towards us. I will leave 288 to fetch and carry for you. He took off. He didnt even spread his wings, just lifted into the air followed by the other masters.
By the way, I realise, technically, Biscuit wasnt strictly speaking a he. Non-sexual beings dont have a gender, but since hed built himself a penis I think we can assu he identified as male (with detachable donger).
Speaking of which, the donger in question flapped his wings and flew up to the lead golem. They seed to be having a conversation. I couldnt hear what was being said but 288 did most of the talking.
It occurred to that 288 might be a spy. Had we revealed any key information around him? More than likely, yes, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Unless there was a way to wipe his mory. It would probably require a phenonal kick up the arse.
It didnt really matter. If anything Chengs father would admire our ingenuity if we broke into the treasury. It was the sort of thing ambitious types expected in others; maybe even admired. The only thing we had to keep secret was Phils ability to stop ti.
The golems closed in on us, pushing us back inside. They ford a periter around the stables and stood sentry to prevent us from leaving. A lot of good it would do them.
Once everyone was ready to move out, Phil activated his ti-stop and we walked past the immobile golems without being challenged.
Now we have to find the treasury, I said. Which way to the East Wing?
This way, said 288, flying past .
Shit. He wasnt affected by the ti-stop. Hed been made when Mr Biscuit wasnt on this world, so technically he was the sa as usimmune. aning we had a guide to lead us straight to the treasury, which was good. And that our secret wasnt going to stay very secret if I didnt do sothing about it. Which was bad. Very, very bad.
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