The beehive in the black robes leaned close to Aissaba and buzzed with what seemed like great effort. After a moment of this, Aissaba realized she could make out English words in the swirling sound: “If you want my advizzz,” it buzzed, “don’t zell your pebblezzz. Inztead… zzell your zervicezzz.”

Aissaba wasn’t sure what to make of this, but Tassadu interjected, “That’s true. If people want pebbles reflashed, they can pay you to do it. No need to sell off the pebbles.”

The merchant had a sour look, like a fisherman who could feel his fish getting away. She shut the antique book with a small bang and said, “Aissaba and Tassadu. Fortress Fuckups, right?”

Aissaba blinked. “How did you know that?”

“Extra helpings at the cafeteria?” said the merchant. “Never finished your thesis? Working as recruiters to buy mind pebbles for parties?”

Aissaba looked for cat-Styxx’s face in the crowd, but he was gone.

“Am I to understand,” said Tassadu, “that you’re somehow connected to the woman who looks like you back in our Fortress? Just like Master Styxx is connected to the man we knew as Styxx – Head Scribe of Recruitment Tours?”

The merchant shrugged. “Too bad you don’t have a copy of our handbook to answer questions like that.”

“We do have a copy,” said Tassadu. “It just happens to be unreadable at the moment.”

The merchant beckoned to those in line behind them, ending the conversation curtly, causing Tassadu to bristle. Octopus placed a soothing hand on Tassadu’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. We can tell you everything you need to know about connected twins. The whole project is common knowledge around here. I won’t even charge you.”

He began to pull them gently away from the merchant’s booth, toward the outskirts of the crowd. Cat-Styxx was still nowhere to be seen.

The robed beehive buzzed something that Aissaba didn’t catch. Octopus Tentacles and Lobster Pincers took off their hoods, revealing that they had relatively human-looking faces. Their modifications, it seemed, were mostly below the neck. From what she could tell, they were in their thirties but had spent enough time outdoors to leave them with networks of deep wrinkles winding through patches of sunspots. They were twins.

“It was a long time ago, but we were also recruited by Master Styxx,” said Octopus, as if this should put them at ease. “Normally, I’d volunteer to show you around. But we have one last job to run before midnight, and if it’s true that you can reflash a few of our pebbles, then – suffice it to say that we’d be in your debt.”

“What happens at midnight?” asked Aissaba.

The swirling buzz of unseen bees answered by saying something like, “Everything ends. Everything begins. Fast may Earth rot.”

Octopus added to this by reaching a tentacle beneath his robes and taking out his own copy of A Fortress of Pebbles. Opening to somewhere near the end, he said, “In the words of our High Master of Rot: One day, we will emerge from the shadows. Millions may die, but millions more will live.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Lobster clicked his pincers together and said, “Also, we get to retire. Sit back and watch the show, you know?”

Aissaba found them likable enough. No traces of malice in their eyes – just exhaustion. The sort of tiredness that accrues on the soul like sediment after years of a certain kind of labor. She’d seen it in her mother after just a year of cafeteria work. She’d seen it in Styxx – Head Scribe of Recruitment Tours. Maybe after a few more years working in recruitment, she’d have seen it in Tassadu, too.

“What’s the job?” she said.

“This,” said Lobster, indicating their smaller friend, “is our payload. We’re supposed to drop them off in Montana before the end of the world, but we toasted all of our mind pebbles. Can’t exactly walk around on Earth with bio-mods like ours dangling out.” He clapped Tassadu jovially on the shoulder and said, “You know how it is, right?”

“Montana,” said Tassadu. “Why Montana?”

From the looks they got back, the answer was supposed to be obvious. Octopus’s tentacles picked at two scabs at once, on his forehead and neck. “I figured Master Styxx would have explained something when he recruited you.” He flicked his eyes at Lobster, as if suddenly unsure what they should and shouldn’t say.

“Not like it matters,” said Lobster. “Even if they’re Fortress spies, they won’t be able to get back in time to deliver the information. No one’s cleared to leave tonight except us.”

Octopus added, “There’s a small house in Montana where our High Master of Rot’s Earth family lives. The apocalypse has to start somewhere.”

Aissaba snorted, suddenly realizing what the test was. “So let me get this straight. You three are the only ones cleared to go back to Montana before the apocalypse begins. And you need something from us so desperately that you’re willing to be forever in our debt.” She took out a glowing blue pebble. “Would this be enough to convince you to bring us with you?”

Everyone except the concealed beehive looked constipated. “That’s the kind of thing Master Styxx would exile us to the volcanic deserts for.”

“Really?” insisted Aissaba. “Are you sure he didn’t put you up to this?”

Lobster and Octopus said nothing – both looking at the ground now. The bees sizzled, as if chuckling. The bone collector at Aissaba’s feet turned in a seemingly random direction, alerting her to the fact that someone was approaching.

Sure enough, it was cat-Styxx.

“What was this?” said Aissaba. “Some kind of test of our loyalty?”

“I also intended it as a test of theirs,” murmured cat-Styxx. "But I suppose you've ruined it."

He touched Lobster and Octopus on the chins, gently lifting their faces to look at him. Aissaba hadn’t realized quite how tall he was until that moment. He said nothing, searching for something in their terrified eyes.

Then, to the buzzing robe, he said, “Hello, old friend. Are you ready?”

A symphony of sound answered him from within the cloth. Aissaba thought she caught the words, “Fast may we rot,” in the middle of it all. As the buzzing washed over him, his eyes closed and he turned his face to the rocks above – as if enjoying raindrops that only he could feel.

“Yes, I agree,” he finally said. “Enough tests.” He then scowled at Aissaba, “Well? Would you have tried to escape back to your Masters?”

Why was he looking at her? Why not Tassadu? And why were there suddenly more butterflies in her stomach than there were bees in cat-Styxx’s old friend? And what would she have done if given a real chance to escape?

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

Cat-Styxx gave a snort and rolled his green eyes. Then, he took a blue pebble from his pocket and tossed it to one of Octopus’s tentacles. “Take the payload up the rear stairwell. Fast may you rot. Aissaba and Tassadu, kindly join me at the top of the Spire where we’ll count down the minutes until midnight.”