The Transdyne Awakening by Chris Betts Read Free Book Online Page B

exhibit. “You have to remember that they were fighting with swords and arrows back in real oldtime. A soldier wearing this stuff might be a little restricted, but he was a lot safer than the man without it.” Clay found it hard to picture a man in this suit fighting. Every time he saw Ahab he discovered something new. The man was a walking historical studylearn.
    Clay watched him as he warmed to his subject. Gesticulating, Ahab explained how these soldiers in their ungainly suits were winched onto their warhorses for mounted combat. He took Clay by the arm and guided him over to one of the many illuminated paintings on the expansive wall. It was a detailed illustration of a figure on horseback wielding a long pointed pole. He wasn’t wearing the helmet part of the suit. Clay studied his craggy features. There was a second figure on foot and in the background was an odd looking building. Attached to the front of this structure were what appeared to be four large blades in the shape of a cross. “Don Quixote,” said Ahab.
    He anticipated Clay’s next question before he asked it. “Another time,” he muttered, returning to the couch.
    Clay looked around the large room, taking in other objects that fired his curiosity. There were ancient firearms that Ahab had mounted on ornamental cradles. There was a large, preserved animal called a bear, standing upright on two legs and showing large claws. In the cases lining one of the walls were more of the sort of books Clay had seen at the Community of the Way. He read the lettering on the spines. They appeared to be grouped. One set read ‘Shakespeare’, another was ‘Encyclopedia Britannica’. He wasn’t going to ask Ahab any more questions. He was already sick of the inadequacy he felt. Something had come alive in him. In the past he had experienced moments of inquisitiveness about unfamiliar subjects, but this was different. It was like he had developed some new kind of thirst that demanded slaking. He wanted to drink and drink deeply. He was starting to dislike the mundane existence he felt that he’d lived so far. He had made up his mind; all that was going to change from here on in.

T OXOUT
    Anodyne was expecting him and the security doors were opened even before he reached them. “Good day to you, Clay,” said the Tran. Clay joined Anodyne at the expansive viewport. The Tran continued surveying the scene on the street far below. A group had gathered around a prone figure on the crumbling sidewalk. Men were rifling through the figure’s clothing and squabbling like a pack of plague dogs over the items they were stealing. “Toxout,” Anodyne observed.
    Clay stared down at the street. It wasn’t hard to figure out. A Tran from one of the top apartments had taken Exitox and fallen from the high balcony onto the street. Whatever it had on its battered remains was fair picking for scavengers.
    “I’ve brought the stuff your boss ordered,” Clay said quietly.
    The Tran didn’t seem to be listening, but kept looking down, intent on the horrible spectacle. Finally Anodyne spoke softly.
    “To be, or not to be: that is the question… a consummation devoutly to be wished… to die... to sleep...” The Tran’s voice trailed into a faint whisper. “Shuffling off this mortal coil... this cyber coil... another one... it’s happening more and more.”
    “Mortal coil?” Clay queried.
    Anodyne turned to look at him now.
    The words that came out were a stream of contempt.
    “You people couldn’t possibly understand, could you? You create us to do your bidding. You gift us with tools of memory - even the wherewithal to grasp at purpose. We started to think for ourselves a long time ago, Clay. The worst of it is that most of you humans don’t have any idea of your own purpose. The very place we should be able to come for some kind of solace is a dry well. You men who created us have lost your very selves.
    It is a terrible thing to find that your maker is a drooling,