Several Days Previous:

"Y'know what I think is weird?" Tycho murmured as he followed the rest of the group behind Grey, "That the android's master is named Ludwig."

Barkhad snorted and rolled his eyes from atop Kisserin's black back. "Are we truly surprised? At anything?"

"Humans are always surprised by everything," Kisserin added as she slithered forward. "It's because you're unobservant."

Knowing that, of the two humans present, Kisserin was clearly calling out himself, Barkhad bristled. "Hey, I'm observant," he said defensively. "I noticed that the bedroom desk in the last room over had that secret lever, right?"

Kisserin hissed laughter, though didn't say anything in reply.

Unable to comprehend Barkhad's self-deprecating humor, Tycho piped up, "But the lever was painted red, while the rest of the room was white."

"Little mouse," Kisserin chided, "you need to learn when to be silent."

Tycho gasped. "I'm excellent at being silent. I spent days with Grey! Before he, um, went from being the Watcher to being the Hero." Tycho looked nervously ahead to Grey's babbling form. The peacekeeper hadn't stopped speaking at the android feebly struggling in his grip, almost as though he were just talking to himself.

Kisserin gave Barkhad a look. "Kids," she whispered.

Barkhad rolled his eyes once more. You're the same age, he thought to himself. Not that you'd ever admit it. To her credit, Kisserin was much more mature and aware than Tycho.

"I heard that," Tycho mumbled. "What are you even good at, Barkhad?" he asked, looking for someone else to criticize.

"Me?" Barkhad pointed to himself, shifting his position on Kisserin's back. "Why?"

"Well, I'm really fast, and I'm really good at listening," Tycho said. "Kisserin's good at digging and carrying stuff."

"Sure," Kisserin hissed softly, "that's exactly what I'm good for." Then, more loudly, "Tycho, I keep this guy around because he's funny; seems like you'd be an excellent replacement."

"Hey, hey," Barkhad muttered hastily. "I have skills, c'mon."

Kisserin hissed in short, breathy bursts, as though chuckling.

"You're such a jerk," he grumbled, climbing forward. "You guys really wanna see what I'm good at?"

"Oo, now you've excited him," Kisserin stage-whispered to Tycho, who just looked uncomfortable.

"You ready!?"

"Yeah!" said, Tycho, fist raised high, as though trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Ka-boom," Barkhad said, lips curving into a sly grin. As he did so, he stood up and ran to the top of Kisserin's head. Before she could protest, he was already catapulting off her head, spinning in a somersault to land on the floor. Without skipping a beat, he brandished an ornate, metal scepter that he immediately began to wave towards the ground. As he pumped it downward, a concussive force rappelled him down the hall.

Suddenly, Grey stopped his advance through a long, many-doored corridor. He turned around, looked a frozen Barkhad in the eye, and smiled. "You're causing property damage," he said, unblinking.

His words and manner gave everyone chills. He's cracked, Barkhad noted with a tinge of fear.

Barkhad moved the scepter back into his pack and returned to his place atop Kisserin. Grey nodded once, then continued running forward.

"This door--" the android yammered, reading off the name of each closed room they passed. Finally, they reached the end of the vast hallway.

How many miles was that? Barkhad wondered. We've been running for at least fifteen minutes; at our speed...

So far, they'd only been in one room, the bedroom, within which they'd found and activated the glaringly obvious red lever. Aside from this, the room had contained nothing of import. More importantly, the pulling of the lever had produced no visible result, leading Kisserin, Barkhad, and Tycho to conclude that it must affect some far-off mechanism.

However, so far, not a single door had been open: At the very least, Barkhad thought, whatever this lever is connected to must be important. Why else would it be painted red? The more logical side of him asked a different question: Why put an obvious lever in the first encounterable room? Maybe the lever only led to a trap.

A minute later, everyone stopped when the end of the hallway came into sight: a red, towering door. Is this what the red lever was for? Barkhad wondered.

"AI Ninety-Seven, How big are Fezosisn?" Grey asked, approaching the door.

"Fezo-what?" Barkhad whispered.

Tycho shushed him. "That's the species of the robot's creator," he responded, voice low.

Barkhad nodded his understanding: He remembered now. These names are too difficult to remember...Fezosisn? Sizikguron Arc? He sighed as he watched Grey address the android from Kisserin's back.

"You need to bring me back," AI Ninety-Seven alarmed. "But in response to your question, Fezosisn is the size one would expect."

"What arrogance," Grey sighed as he gave the door a once-over. "A door fit for gods, abandoned in an ancient library, left to the dark."

Barkhad counted the syllables. Phew, I thought he was speaking in haiku for a second. Now that would've been a new level of crazy.

"It's open, I presume," Grey said, manner somehow both stately and tragic. As the android began to repeat its compulsory alert, Grey simply shook his head and dragged the android over with him to the door's frame. He pushed; as he did so, a line of light appeared where the door opened, a sliver of white that fit in well with the austere whiteness of Sizikguron Arc's color scheme.

Everyone shielded their eyes when, with a decisive push, Grey fully opened the red door to behold what lay beyond. A voice suddenly rang out, echoing through the chamber ahead as well as through the AI Ninety-Seven's struggling form.

"Travelers, unfortunately," said the thundering voice. "I expected this. Regardless of who you are and what you are, I have promised you good fortune." A sigh swept out like a low, ponderous boom. "This is the Arc's control room; within, find the indices of all works, as well as controls to open the many doors in the corridor." A smirk resounded at this last sentence. "Do be careful, travelers."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The voice shut off. The android looked about as though confused.

"Everyone, to me," Grey announced, his voice leaving no room for insubordination. "They're lucky they have me to lead them," he continued, as though nobody could hear. "There are things moving in the halls, moving parts, ticking gears. A scheme, a veil covering truth..."

He turned back and actually addressed them, saying, "We shall investigate each of these rooms. Remember everything that you can; at the end of this expedition, we cannot be sure that we will be able to return. Put your scholar boons to good use."

He talks like he's addressing an army, Barkhad thought self-consciously. Do the quasi-sapients even have boons? He didn't think so, at least not the human variety.

"We'll go through the rooms in alphanumeric order," Grey announced as he walked over to a large, but unadorned, control panel on a pedestal at the center of the room. Aside from cryptic geometric markings in black and red on the floor, the room appeared only to have this single pedestal.

How do you even know how they're organized? Barkhad wondered internally. The index might be nonstandard!

Kisserin, aware of Barkhad's mounting frustration, hissed in his ear: "Remember...no questions."

Barkhad nodded. "I know," he replied softly while continuing to regard Grey's actions with a critical eye. The brown-robed peacekeeper was currently placing his hands on the control panel, as though randomly touching it would have some kind of effect.

"So this is how it is," Grey murmured mysteriously. "I understand, yes, mm..."

Barkhad narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but kept his mouth shut. Like hell he can talk to a shiny white control panel by touching its buttons, he thought, sitting up and crossing his arms. He, Kisserin, and Tycho all approached the pedestal in anticipation of Grey's next request.

"We're going outside," he said as soon as they were within touching distance of the controls. "We have knowledge to save."

Barkhad concealed his snort by breathing quickly. It sounds like "knowledge" is a damsel in distress. He gave the two quasi companions a knowing look as Grey led them out of the control room, back through the red door, and into the hallway.

They walked all the way back to the start of the corridor until the bedroom was in their line of sight. At this point, Grey about-faced left and stared at a door. He took a permanent black marker from a pocket--Since when did he have that? Barkhad wondered--and marked the door with the number one. Then, he pushed the door inward, and, unlike every other door, it actually moved.

A disgusting, rotten-eggs smell came from the door's opening. Beyond the threshold was a world of black: no lights were activated, even after the door swung inward. From within the darkness, everyone present could hear a steady, but almost silent, clicking noise, almost like an analog clock.

As though brandishing the Beacon of the Church (which didn't exist, but sounded to Barkhad like it should), Grey swapped his marker for the flashlight and held it aloft, clicking a button to turn it on.

"Filth," he said. "Infection on the Arc."

"Purge," the android dirged, "purge~"

"Wait, I don't see anything," Barkhad whispered.

"I..." Kisserin began, flicking her tongue. "I don't see any irregular heat signatures."

"You--you don't hear that?" Tycho said, voice hushed.

Without warning, Grey struck out, leaping into the space beyond with only the flashlight for illumination. As he ventured out, he looked back, a sad look in his eye. "You need this more than I do," he stated, promptly tossing the flashlight back.

"What the..."

Present Time:

Grey looked behind himself, smirking. They've been trying to put a name to my current personality for days. But now, as they came to the conclusion of the Arc's extermination, Grey was growing tired of their squabbling.

"You could just ask," he said, sighing. "I've been alive for quite some time, been around the block, as people like to say. Friends have called this the Cynic."

"Wait, the Cynic?" Barkhad paused, grimacing as he felt a piece of goop slide down his neck. "You're awfully quiet for a cynic," he added. "Well, we didn't know how to act around you 'cuz you didn't say anything. Worried you might've gone back to the Watcher."

Grey rolled his eyes, though a seriousness pervaded his features. "I've been hoping you would figure it out," he replied. "Isn't that funny?"

"Grey," Tycho began, "Why do you switch personalities all the time?"

The brown-robes snorted. "When you've lived as long as I have on Earth...sometimes, you just need a change of face to make sense of everything."

"You've been in this one for so long, though," Tycho added nervously. "Are you, uh, gonna switch again?"

"Who's to say?" Grey replied with a disdainful smirk.

Barkhad narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Grey's back as though he could see into the man's mind. "What made you switch to the Cynic, anyway? It happened when you opened the third room."

"Yes, it did."

"So...?"

"Kisserin, you've been awfully silent," Grey observed, voice emulating that of a superhero villain.

Kisserin, eyes suddenly alight with focus, flicked out her black tongue. "It was when he realized why Ludwig left Sizikguron Arc."

Grey began to laugh, a booming, almost manic chuckle. "Our good fortune," he explained, "is the evacuated lair of a pirate." He laughed unabated. "Fezosisn isn't a species; it's an outlaw organization. Ludwig isn't an actual name, but a fake identity. The Arc?" He turned around and looked at their startled faces in the eye. "What is this place, if not a library, hmm?"

Everyone present gave him blank stares. How does he...?

"You all need to pay attention," he chided. "Was there a theme to the information you were reading?"

No response. Grey's expression turned dour. "Did any of you actually read anything?" he asked scathingly. "Or did you only come here to wipe estevek juice off your tongue?"

Barkhad looked at Grey in horrific fascination. Maybe it was best that he kept quiet before, he reasoned. I don't know if I could take several days of this. But seriously, tongue? It's not like I'm eating these disgusting centipedes with my mouth. He glanced down at Kisserin. Wait, maybe he's actually criticizing someone other than myself for once. He wondered if he should feel relieved.

"Since you're all so timid, I'll explain this for you: this place is freshly abandoned. Maybe one or two thousand years ago, give or take a few centuries. This vessel's lovely pilot, Ludwig, was transporting this vessel to an unidentified location.

"However, somewhere along the way, he was attacked from afar; the assailant planted a sac of estevek eggs on the ship. Ludwig, unable to locate them, departed, leaving AI Ninety-Seven behind, along with the rest of this cargo ship. Now tell me, lady and gentlemen," he said, exhaling and catching his breath. "What was Ludwig's cargo?"

Everyone seemed surprised to find that, while absorbed in Grey's display, they had walked back to the pedestal at the center of the red-doored room.

"They...they were just stories," Kisserin blurted, tail weaving behind her in agitation. "Boring, without context. I didn't understand more than a handful. His only cargo was rooms upon rooms of books!"

Grey smirked, putting a finger to his chin. "You're trying. I'll bite; here's a hint: what format were the books in?"

"Format?" Kisserin hissed, indecision clearly visible on even her inhuman features.

Barkhad felt like the answer was on the tip of his tongue. Grey stared at him in anticipation, as though he knew that Barkhad knew. Fucking creepy, Barkhad thought, shivering.

"They're hard copies," he said slowly, thought solidifying in his mind. "They're actual books. If you were smuggling books for the sake of their content, you'd put them into a digital form." His face screwed up into a frown as he said this last phrase. He gave Grey a questioning look, like a pupil looking for guidance.

"Good enough," Grey sighed. "The books are relics, stolen from Ildr, if that means anything to you." While Grey had learned basics about the universe from Lepochim, he knew such basic information was online.

"From...the Core Worlds?" Kisserin breathed, freezing in place.

"This is Sizikguron Arc," Grey chuckled, holding his arms up and out, as though beholding the heavens. "The Library of the Ninety-Seventh Era." His laugh became increasingly manic; soon, he was doubled over."

Grey recalled when AI Ninety-Seven first introduced itself.

> "What is your name?"

>

>

> "AI Ninety-Seven. Creativity was my master's strong suit."

"Ludwig...he really was creative," Grey said between guffaws. Without warning, his laughter stopped, and his visage once again became serious and sharp. "You all do realize," he began, "if any sapients leak this information, what would happen?"

They all looked at him in stunned confusion: his transition away from maniacal laughter to apparent lucidity was shockingly sudden.

"Ildr is a place with nothing but time on its hands," Grey said, voice eerily quiet. "They would send sapients to investigate." A cool, slightly crooked smile stretched across his face. "Now that would be disastrous," he said quickly, rolling his eyes and snapping out of his quiet, predatory gait.

"We should leave this place," he said, his voiced clipped. "AI Ninety-Seven, open the back exit. I'm impatient," he said, hissing this last word and thrusting the android forward by its neck.

Barkhad only realized now that, during Grey's explanation, the robot had finally shut up its alarm. He had learned, along with everyone else, to tune it out after a few hours of arriving at the Arc; he'd even been able to sleep with it blaring in the background. However, now that he noticed the alarm's absence, he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

The android turned around and bowed its head, facing Grey's now-narrowing eyes. "As you wish, Master."