Chapter 82: The Shadow Library - Year One (Part 1) (Patreon)

Catherine had been going in and out of the Kanryx dens, smelling them and running her hands over the stone, while Napoleon stayed behind her the whole time, watching her.

The Operator worked fast. She’d been checking the head on her hip every couple of minutes since the eye opened, waiting to catch it closing on her. Every time it was still open, she kept moving.

Next to the mobile medical station sat a large platform truck. She’d loaded it with electronic equipment, including the computer monitors from the control room. Underneath were pieces of metal she’d stripped off the drill they’d dropped from the surface. There were also a small power generator and medium containers of Kanryx compounds, the extra ones from the tanks Dan and Lessa were hooked into. What else am I missing?

She quickly ran through it in her mind. I’ve already taken the clothes from the staff rooms and break areas.

Catherine ran up alongside her, holding what looked like handmade toys, likely crafted by the Kanryx for their children. She showed them to the Operator. “You want to bring those? Go on, put them with the rest.”

Operator, I think we have everything. We don’t know how long that eye will stay open.

"I know. It's time." She turned. "Napoleon, on my shoulder."

The Operator lifted Catherine and set her on the platform truck. “You okay up there?”

Catherine nodded.

"Alright. Let's hope this works."

She detached Mordran's head from her hip cage, grasping it by the hair, and held it up so the eye faced forward. The dead gray face hung there, staring into the cavern. She slowly moved it to the left. No response. Come on. You said this would work. She returned it and began moving it the other way.

It came in on the right. A tremor, so slight she almost mistook it for her own hand shaking, but it was in the head. She stopped, moved it back a few inches, and the tremor died. She moved it forward again, and it came back. “That’s it. That’s it.”

She placed her other hand on the handle of the platform truck and began walking, dragging the entire load behind her as she responded to the shaking. Every few steps, she adjusted her grip, swinging the head slightly wider until the tremor intensified again, then corrected her stance. The tremors grew stronger the further she moved. By the time she had crossed halfway across the cavern floor, the head was rattling so violently that she had to tighten her grip in the hair to hold on, while the truck dragged heavily behind her. Despite this, she kept walking.

Then it suddenly kicked, forcefully coming alive in her hand as it struggled to break free, jerking against her grip. Suddenly it stopped completely, and everything went dark. The Operator stood motionless, unable to see anything, not her hand, not the head she was holding. There was no sound of the floor under her boots, no air movement, nothing. Something hit her legs, nearly causing her to swing at it, but she realized what it was in time. Catherine had come down from the truck in the dark, found her, and wrapped both arms around her, holding on tightly with her face pressed into her hip. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Napoleon’s lights came on. They lit nothing. The beams shot into the dark and never touched a thing. The Operator turned her head and could still see the cavern behind her. The stairs to the control panel on top sat behind an enormous black window that stood between her and every bit of it. Did that asshole lie to me? She stood in the dark with a child holding onto her leg, waiting, and nothing happened.

Then a thread of gold emerged from Mordran’s eye. It extended before her, delicate at first, flowing through the darkness and gradually sweeping across it. Wherever the gold touched, the darkness ceased to be empty. The shelves appeared first, emerging from nothing, one, then another, and then dozens, rising past her on both sides, stacking floor upon floor. Next came the lamps. One appeared faintly on her right, a small point of light amidst the darkness. Soon after, another emerged. Gradually, they began to catch in neat rows, moving away from her along the walkways, spanning multiple levels. The golden glow spread throughout the entire structure, revealing its shape around her.

The rest of the elements filled in seamlessly: railings gradually formed along the walkways, while the carpet unrolled down the center of the floor and extended forward into the distance. Reading desks emerged from the ground, with chairs settling beside them. Carvings began to crawl up the columns. Then, the books appeared: a few landed on nearby shelves, then more, and then at an accelerating pace. Soon, thousands of books arrived, sliding into place on every shelf across all levels, filling the shelves around her and spreading outward in all directions, upward and outward, until every visible shelf was fully occupied.

It stopped. The library stood around them, whole, exactly as she had last seen it. Catherine had let go of her leg. She had her head tipped all the way back and was turning in a slow circle with her mouth open, following the shelves up as far as they went, and the gold light was in her eyes.

The Operator let go of the platform truck, took the head in both hands, and turned it to face her. The third eye was still open. "At least you did one good thing with your life, you fuck." She looked into that open eye. "We're done."

[Tera's Observation Log — Year One]

Opening new record. Subject of observation: The user, designated the Operator.

Function: Monitor, observe, analyze.

Current location: a pocket universe. Mordran designated it the Shadow Library. Projected duration of stay: 4 to 6 years.

[Attempting standard report format.]

[Trait analysis: elevated sarcasm, maximum candor, minimal output filtering. These parameters cannot be suppressed for formal reporting. Proceeding as myself.]

[Day 32. Rendering compiled data.]

The Operator has now run the Living Prototype sixty times. Twice a day, every day, right on the twelve-hour cooldown, never missing once. 

The Disassembly Field hung in front of her, with the Living Prototype floating inside it. This one had come out shaped like a worm, with only the sense of touch working on it. She swept her hands through the field in opposite directions, fast, and the clone tore apart, dropping to the floor as a wad of raw flesh as the nanos crawled back into her body.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and let herself drop flat on her back. “How long do you think it’ll take the nanobots to crack it, Tera?”

Still in progress. It’s still a challenge to find a painkiller and a temporary emotion blocker. So far, everything disrupts the mutation formula when applied to the prototype.

"Yeah. Well. At least I get my twelve hours of rest.”

“OPERATOR!” A kid’s voice, up top. Catherine’s head appeared over the second-floor railing, and then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, she threw herself off it. She dropped into one of the webs Napoleon had strung throughout the library, hit it, bounced down to the floor, and came running with a book clutched in one hand. "You done?" 

The Operator lifted her body off the floor and looked in the direction from where Catherine was running. “Yep. Think I’m getting close, though. And you showing up is the best part of my day. What’d you find?”

“I still can’t figure out the name of the world I’m reading about. I don’t think Mordran cared much about it, since the language key he left was easy to decipher, so I got through the books quickly.” A smile spread across her face. “I wanted to surprise you.”

"What are they about?"

"Stories. Fables. That's probably why he didn't bother with a harder key."

She ran a hand over Catherine’s head. “I couldn’t crack these the way you do if my life depended on it. Not without Tera. So how about we do this? That last test killed my appetite, so as a reward, tonight’s plate is all yours.”

"Yesss!" Catherine shouted. "No take-backs!" She was already running for the room, her voice fading out behind her.

"Tera. I might not remember a lot about children, but no kid her age talks like that. Like a grown adult."

Does that bother you?

"Not even a little. I'm just curious what she's going to be like in a few years."

End of entry.

[Day 84. Rendering compiled data.]

Catherine knelt over the Operator, crying, laying cold, wet cloths across her forehead. Napoleon carried the water, hauling the dish back and forth and setting fresh, cold water within Catherine’s reach whenever she needed it.

“Catherine, touch my forehead. How does it feel?”

“You’re burning up,” she said through her tears. “Tell me what else I can do.”

Don’t worry. Keep the cold cloths coming, and let Napoleon handle the water.

“Please rest,” Napoleon said. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will, my little knight. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll get better.” The Operator’s eyes began to slide shut. “The heat won’t let me breathe. Where am I?”

Operator, please hold; we’re still working to find a solution for this.

“A hundred and sixty-four tests, and not one good result, Tera. Maybe that’s why the winged ones were so desperate, running their tests on humans.” A smile crept into her voice. “That’s a joke, Tera.”

Maybe you should rest for a few days. Using the Living Prototype is wearing on your mind.

"If I don't get stronger, I go back to being weak, Tera. I lose Catherine the way I lost Reth. I go back to being some helpless thing that always needs saving."

Napoleon’s jump landed on the bed, and the water settled next to her with a small slosh.

"I'm going to take care of you," Catherine said. "You're going to get better."

Analysis. Day 84. The Operator presented with a fever high enough to cause delirium and disorientation. Cause: sustained mental strain from repeated use of the Living Prototype, at one hundred and sixty-four runs with no viable result. Physical symptoms were secondary to psychological load. Testing was suspended for several days following this episode.

End of entry.

[Day 170. Rendering compiled data.]

Operator, I’m ninety-eight percent certain I’ve found a positive formula based on Orof’s ability. The creature Napoleon fought on level B-12.

“Give me the numbers. What does the formula do?” The Operator’s voice was tired. In front of her, notes covered the boards lining the Shadow Library hallway. Hundreds of possible formulas, some crossed out with a red X, others marked with a single word. Investigate.

No pain during or after conversion. No permanent physical changes. Increased speed. However, the speed will be reduced by seventy percent compared to Orof’s to avoid negative mutations.

The Operator placed her hands near her mouth and took a deep breath, her voice trembling. “If this succeeds, it will be a significant step toward reducing the frequency of negative formulas, Tera.” She wiped away her tears. “Let’s begin.”

[Activating Living Prototype.]

As she had so many times, the small clone of the Operator appeared in the palm of her hand. A perfect copy of her, sharing her thoughts and everything she felt. “Tera, load the test formula.”

Loading formula.

The formula was integrated into the Living Prototype. Seconds ticked by, stretching into a minute, and the Operator’s hands grew sweaty from nerves. Suddenly, the visual transformations began. The clone’s legs became more defined, as did its arms, but without thickening. Tendons became visible beneath the skin at the back of the knees and ankles.

“Tera, it’s working. IT’S FINALLY WORKING.” The Operator was on her feet now, laughing, a cracked sound she hadn’t made in days, the clone held up before her face. “No pain. No sadness, no anger, nothing. It just worked.” She turned the clone in her hand, examining it from every angle, and for a moment she felt relieved. “Give me an internal report on the body.”

Internal summary, Operator. Greater contraction and force in the muscle fibers. Increased elasticity in the tendons. And faster signal from the brain to the muscle.

"That's it?"

That's it.

The smile faded slowly. She already knew where this was headed. “Then you know what happens the second it runs. Two, three steps in.”

Her bones break. The same thing that happens to you when you hit something.

She took the clone to the desk in the center of the library, sat down, and placed it in front of her. “I’m not going to make her run just to see what we already know will happen. We’ll let her be destroyed when the time is up.”

I'm sorry.

“There’s no need to apologize.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and when she looked at the clone, resolve settled in. “Nothing we’ve done so far compares to this. Now we have a clear objective. Develop a formula to strengthen my bones.”

End of entry.