While
Carroll sated his hunger and thirst the robot rested before him with its lights flickering to the promptings of hidden thoughts. Eventually, as if coming to a decision, it rose into the air. Carroll watched it go without much interest, then he found the most comfortable spot he could amongst the wreckage, and was soon asleep.
He was in Northern Ireland. There were snipers. That was the main thing he remembered, though he was sure he had been involved in an intricate situation beforehand that explained their presence. Coming out of the tight bowel-clenching fear of physical injury, he became aware that he was dreaming and that the staccato rattling he was hearing was not from automatic weapons, but from something near to where he slept. He then woke fully.
The chamber was lit now with a soft blue radiance
issuing from no discernible source. Wiping the sleep from his eyes Carroll saw that the robot had returned and was the source of the noise. With its many manipulators and tool-bearing appendages it was working on a machine that had not been present when Carroll had fallen asleep. The machine looked something like a creation booth, something like a resurrection machine, and a lot like a water tank with a door in it.
Yawning and still rubbing at his eyes
, Carroll stood and approached to watch the work in progress. Abruptly he had to jerk away as an arc welder flashed and sprayed the floor with molten globules. It was a moment before his sight returned, and when it did he realized that the robot had ceased to work.
‘
Warning given time weld unshielded next,’ said the robot in a voice that was a combination of Carroll's and the Clown's. Blinking with surprise Carroll saw that the voice issued from a new addition to its chaotic structure. Held, seemingly at random by the insect shapes, was a metal copy of the human speech making apparatus from lungs to lips, either side of which were ears. Carroll had seen some strange things lately but this was the most Daliesque.
‘
What is that you are working on?’ Carroll asked, as the robot set too again.
Without slowing the robot
explained, ‘Fractal entachyon multiplier ... now the power feed...now–’
‘
No, everything, the entire machine,’ said Carroll, realizing the robot was taking him too literally.
A
long pause ensued before the robot replied, ‘Life form viewpoint understood. This is a creation booth.’
‘
Is it for me? Is it to provide me with the necessities of life?’ He was not actually thinking of those necessities. He was thinking that perhaps this machine would not be as limited as the one the Reaper had provided. It was a lot larger and more complex than the ones back there.
‘
Yes, partially,’ replied the robot.
Carroll
moved forward with studied nonchalance to inspect the booth. Like the resurrection machine on top of the cliff it had a pedestal mounted control console. The controls were beyond him. He swore quietly before again addressing the robot.
‘
How will I operate it?’ he asked.
‘
Creation booth through me–’ the robot began and then corrected, ‘The creation booth is voice-operated through me.’ Then, ‘This creation booth will be voice-operated through me.’
Carroll
was impressed by the robots improvement in the use of English though disheartened by its reply.
‘
How long until it’s ready,’ he asked.
‘
Approximately four minutes once welding recommences.’
‘
I'll leave you to it then,’ said Carroll with irony.
After a relay clicking pause the robot continued its task.
Carroll walked away aimlessly but eventually found himself standing by the skeleton. After staring for a while he decided that it seemed less alien to him now, less frightening, perhaps because he now felt more capable and hence more optimistic. In his mind he now found he was able piece the bits of it back together and speculate as to what the original creature might have looked like, and decided it was not one he would have wanted to meet in a dark alley. He pushed his hands in his pockets and turned away.
The robot had finished by the time
Carroll returned to it, and was resting silently beside the creation booth. He noticed the number of cables connecting it to the booth, and decided to try something.
‘
The creation booth is ready then?’
The robot did not reply, so h
e rephrased his words as a question, realizing that the robot had taken them as a statement. ‘Is this creation booth ready to be used now?’ he asked.
‘
Yes,’ replied the robot succinctly.
‘
Tell me again how I use it.’
‘
To use this creation booth you tell me what you require and I convert your request into machine language.’
‘
What range of goods will this booth create?’
‘
Any inanimate object on existence on Earth up to the time of your death, and able to fit within this booth.’
‘
Nothing is proscribed?’
The machine was silent.
‘In that case,’ said Carroll with satisfaction, ‘I'll have an M1 assault rifle with two thirty-round magazines loaded alternately with armoured and mercury tipped bullets.’
Lights flickered and the robot and the creation booth hummed with a surge of energy.
Carroll moved forward when the door thunked open to show his order had been filled. It was new. It even had packing grease on it. He picked it up and rapidly checked it over, loaded a magazine, pointed at the far wall of the chamber, and fire. The vicious staccato rattling was the best sound he had heard in a long time. Contemplatively he next ordered a twelve inch pizza with anchovies and a four-pack of Ruddles County. After eating and drinking he really got to work. When the Clown came he was seated on the floor bolting a laser-spot sight on the M1 and was surrounded by mortars, armour-piercing missiles, hand guns and ammunition.
‘
This is why I chose you, and I am pleased I did, now,’ was the first thing the Clown said. Carroll looked up – a child disturbed while playing with his favourite toys.
‘
Pleased? Why are you pleased?’
‘
Your familiarity with modern Earth weaponry. These machines,’ he gestured with a spectral arm at the creation booth, ‘are controlled by a central information bank and are limited by the invention of the people of Earth. I made them that way, and here and now it is difficult to make them any other. And only now, since the advent of your twentieth century, have there been weapons that can be effective against the Four.’
Carroll
laid the assault rifle tenderly across his lap.
‘
What is it you want me to do again?’ he asked with a faint smile.
‘
I want you to steal my soul disc and bring it back here,’ replied the Clown.
Carrol
l gazed at the weaponry that surrounded him. It seemed he would get a chance to use it. His smile turned into a grin.
♠♠♠
‘Perhaps now would be a good time for you to tell me more about the Four. I'll need to know their weaknesses, and their strengths,’ said Carroll.
‘
Hopefully you will need to know no more than you know at present. The element of surprise ... a lightning raid ... these clichés apply. It would be best for you to go in as quickly as you can, when the moment is right, destroying anything in your way. You then retrieve my soul disc and return with it here as quickly as you can.’
Carroll
bowed his head for a minute then said, ‘Transport?’
‘
To the point!’ replied the Clown, ‘this way,’ and with that strange floating gait led Carroll from the chamber to a place in the ship like the upper reaches of a jungle, only the branches here were pipes, ducts and hanging wires. Carroll had to climb through this tangle like the denizen of a jungle, the Clown floating mockingly before him, until at length he reached a place where two massive ribbed ducts ran at thirty degrees up into a darkness where leaf-like shapes could just be discerned.
‘
There,’ said the Clown, pointing with a wavering arm, then he led Carroll up the chancy ducts to the first shape.
The closer he got to it the more
Carroll thought it looked like a huge beech leaf. It was even joined by a little stem to the duct. Standing over it at last he saw it looked so much like a leaf that the similarity could not have been accidental. Unlike a leaf, though, it was forty feet long and thirty wide.
‘
This is your transport,’ stated the Clown. Carroll stared at him incredulously as he continued, ‘It flies, and with very little practise you will learn how to fly it. It is silent and its speed is governed by how well you can hold on. It can also serve as a weapons platform. In practical terms it is indestructible and there is no limit to the weight it can carry.’
Practical terms?
Thought Carroll as he stepped onto the craft. Much to his surprise it did not waver under his weight.
‘
A leaf?’ he said looking around distractedly.
‘
A conceit of mine,’ said the Clown, ‘this is the shape I predicted certain forms of life would take to utilise the sun's energy.’
‘
You were right,’ said Carroll, too shell-shocked to doubt.
‘
It is not often that I am wrong,’ said the Clown matter-of-factly, before going on to instruct Carroll on how to detach the craft from the duct. Not thinking too much about what he was doing Carroll followed those instructions. Only when the stem detached from its anchor point did it occur to him that it was attached to nothing, and he clung to the edge in sudden fear. The craft did not even quiver though. It remained motionless relative to the duct. After a moment Carroll stood up and glanced sheepishly to the Clown, who then instructed him on how to steer the craft.
The stem folded up into a joystick and changed the direction of the craft on the horizontal plane. Indentations in the end of it controlled the height of the craft. Shortly, standing like some pixie scooter driver,
Carroll was negotiating the craft through the metalled jungle.
♠♠♠
‘What will I face back there? What is the situation at present?’
‘
During the time you were escaping I was keeping the Four busy–’
‘
Three,’ corrected Carroll, without thinking.
‘
No, four. The Reaper is still extant. They are able to resurrect themselves.’ The Clown pause while Carroll took this in then went on, ‘They are not aware that you still live. They think that you are permanently dead. When Anubis saw you he swiftly destroyed the machine you were in unaware that in that moment it transported you elsewhere. In the information banks I made what he believed appear to be that case.’
‘
So now things are back the way they were before, they're still playing the game?’
‘
No. they are aware that I have made a move. They think they have negated this move, but they are not sure and are still wary. I have been attempting to direct their attention away from the things that most concern me.’
‘
It seems you hardly need my help... but you still have not answered my original question.’
‘
When the time comes for you to steal my soul disc I am not sure precisely what you will find at the game board. One thing is certain though. You will not encounter the Four.’
‘
Why not?’
‘
At present they are one AU, you know this measurement?’ Carroll shook his head. ‘They are approximately ninety million miles to spin-ward destroying an installation I caused to be built a thousand years ago. As they return from this I will cause another diversion which they will think to be the main event.’
‘
You believe in forward planning then,’ said Carroll wryly, then fell silent while he negotiated the craft round a particularly difficult tangle of pipes and wires, before going on, ‘What if they take the disc with them?’
‘
This the one thing I can be sure they will not do. The place where it is kept is where they have agreed to keep it. Not one of them would trust one of the others to carry the disc. Their distrust of each other is equal to their hate.’
‘
Ah,’ said Carroll, as if he understood, then he fell silent again as another tangle had to be negotiated round.
The Clown continued talking once they were past.
‘You wondered why I need your help, Jason Carroll. The reason is simply speed, and information. To the Four you no longer exist, also you are capable of independent action. I could not send a robot because all my robots are connected to the main information banks and should the Four become aware of them they would be immediately shut down. They cannot shut you down without direct action, and you can move fast enough to get this task done before they return.’