apengnovel

chapter 15: the mechanical drone

what could happen.

        A demon or sorcerer from my time has found a way to disguise magic as some kind
of technological advance. People will accept this because the physics behind it
surpasses the comprehension of those who witness it. At least, that is what they
will be made to believe. He will lead them on to believe they are too stupid to
understand. He will steal their souls while they wonder about nanotechnology or
compubiomechanics. How easy it could be to claim a new device was just invented,
one that could rearrange atoms into any object. Reconstructing the earth and its
inhabitants atom by atom would not be the same as the magic spell behind it.
There would be a lot more paperwork and the support of everyone who upgrades,
downloads, accelerates, maximizes efficiency, or is on the information
superhighway.
        He is revered, he is wealthy, he is powerful. But, that is now at the present
time -- and that means nothing. He may think so, because he has either forgotten
or does not care about where he came from.

        What might happen.

        He is something new. Some kind of evolutionary robot/human hybrid created
either in a lab or born that way. He possesses some kind of control over all
things mechanical. With the increase of surgically implanted chips and devices,
he will be able to control more and more. Those still pure will have no chance,
because, as of right now, there are more people surgically enhanced than not. If
he is something new, I do not know if my magic could stop him. However, since I
am still pure, I do not know how much he could affect me.

        What should happen.

        The Warlock returns.

        What will happen.

        I will try to stop whatever it is, as Naimlis and not Zona. As the citizen and
not as the warlock. I promised Valentine.

        What really will happen.

        Probably nothing.

        I know what floor he is on. I stand in the elevator, knowing. I can see my
reflection in the elevator door. Lights above me leave my eyes in shadow – the
lack of eyes making me seem hollow. I like to think that I am not just a high
school student. I like to think something in my stance -- my expression, my
demeanor, something – gives off the authoritative vibe of a great warlord. You
cannot tell anything, though, from an elevator door.
        My hollow reflection splits in the middle to a crowd of irregular heartbeats
and twitching faces. They do not wait for me to get out, so I push through them.
One displaced by many in the empty elevator. In the hall, people in grey and
white suits and blouses rush past me, plastic and like they are on wheels – not
looking, not thinking. The walls are white. This is the right floor.
        More of them hurry past me. I assume they work here, though they are fleeing
from something. I see chairs, a couch, a plant. I seem to have found a lounge.
Across the lounge is a door, a large door, an important door. I stop here for a
moment. I do not even see them at first but there are people squatting on the
floor, behind chairs and couches. I do not see them because I am near the door
(they must be hiding from this door). They are squatting in office suits and
grey and white blouses. A normal day at work, maybe?
        They say nothing to me, they do not even look at me. They start at the grey
upholstery of the chairs and couches. Too afraid to run. The lights flicker and
I notice the air from the vent getting colder. I can hear the loud crashing of
what sounds like a dryer loaded with nails. It is getting louder. Nails in a
cement truck. Clashing and scratching the insides.
        I am just standing in the middle of the lounge. Am I just going to meet him?
Just going to stand here? I look at the little dagger I have. Can I fight a
cement truck with this? Break the knife? One woman’s knees are shaking because
she is too old to crouch like that for so long. What the hell kind of place is
this?
        What is he capable of? A demon or some kind of cyborg? If he is from my time, I
will be fine. If he is something else, what will I do? The lights are flickering
on and off. Some of them are sparking. The sound is becoming deafening. An army
tank.
        I cannot make sense of it. I know he is angry though. I know it is because of
me. I should not have come here. He has killed people before. I know. I know he
is angry because of me. He knows. He knows I brought the pearl. He knows who I
am, that I am in disguise. I am insulting his intelligence by standing here as a
high school student with a knife. I am not fooling anyone.
        He is coming, though it sounds loud enough for him to be next to me. He is
right behind that door. How could he be coming closer if he is right behind the
door? Is he walking through dimensions, through worlds, to get to me? He knows
who I am. This is a ridiculous charade.
        I am Zona.
        A black helm for a face, 8 feet tall, long dark hair, gauntlets made from
dragon claws, black armor unnaturally bright from florescent light, and an axe
with a sharpened diamond blade. I see through narrow slits. The old demons know,
they can sense magic. He must know, he must remember. He must flee. I wait and
listen.
        Louder, the army tank is coming closer. I can hear the nails. There is
something horrible scratching, grinding, scraping. Something not from my world.
Something from this world. The mindless cruelty of a world that despised my
time. Valentine was driven mad. He killed himself.
        It is no demon. It is the highest form of life here. The vertex of the
technological world. The reincarnation of the mechanical god. Finally, the
physical embodiment of all the inhabitants of this world – lifeless and
preprogrammed.
        I cannot compete against that.
        I cannot kill something that is not even alive. We will fight, forever.
Eventually, I will tire. Eventually, he will realize the pearl. He will remove
it. He will kill me. I will be crushed in the alloyed stomach of some mechanical
tank.
        (I told some girl reading the same fantasy book I was reading at the library
that magic was real. I told her that dragons and unicorns were real too. I told
her that there used to be knights and kingdoms and noble quests. And, I told
her, with the right spell, you could actually create your own world. I think she
thought I was just encouraging her imagination.)
        I kneel. I do not want to die. I do not want to give up in this world like
Valentine did. This is something else. I know how to handle the evil from my
world. This is not from my world.
        When the door opens I cannot look at him. I only saw that he was taller than
the door, wider than the door. Robotic limbs. Although encased in a suit of
black armor and eight feet tall, I am still human. I look at the ground after I
glimpse at the limbs. I can not even tell you what color they are.
        When I imagine he is coming closer, I sink closer to the ground. I press my
horned, helmed face to the carpet. Submission.
        Please, do not kill me. If the two of us were in alliance, this world could be
ours. We could create a new world with magic and mechanics. I was not really
trying to kill you. I am not going to kill you. The axe! He must think I am
going to threaten him! I am not fooling him, just insulting his intelligence. He
is no fool.
        I bow lower. Accept the submission!
        I bow lower. Accept the submission!
        (Mercy!)
        I don’t notice the noise anymore. It is still there, but it does not vie for my
attention. I notice because nothing happens.
        People in the lounge ease a little. They look at the black knight, kneeling
low. I feel his presence next to me, in front of me. Nothing is happening.
        I look up, and I see something.
        No more light tricks, no more temperature changes. He is not stalling to
increase tension. A master of atmospheric effects, he is. He must work for the
movies.
        He is not stalling to increase tension.
        I stand up. And look at him, eye to eye, because of his stilts. He is stalling
because he is a man.
        He is just a man.
        A man with robotic arm. A man with a wireless connection to the heating/AC
controls, the lighting. He has, implanted in himself, the worlds most expensive
biocomputech, capable of controlling room conditions and computers on the
network with his mind.
        He is just a computer nerd on a power trip, terrorizing his workers.
        A man. Flesh and bones. Just a fucking man. He goes home and feeds his fucking
dog. I was just afraid of a simple man.
        I grip his neck in dragon claws.
        “There is a sky above us,” I say, through clenched teeth and a black, horned
helm.
        His face looks dismal, like one that is looking at a screen. He is trying to
hack into a compubiotech that I don’t have. I am pure.
        “There is a white sky above us,” I say again. “It is so bright and so light
that everything next to it looks almost black.”
        I take off my pearl and put it in my pocket. I am half the size of him now, a
high school girl.
        “I am not afraid of you!”
        The people in the lounge stand up. Some slower than others, because they were
aching from crouching so long. Men and women, blouses and suits, they all stand.
        “He is just a man!” I yell at them. Not a demon, not a new evolution, just a
simple, insignificant human being.