XII.
“Val, wake up… Val!” a gruff voice called as an even gruffer hand shook him at the shoulder. “It’s time. Break’s over. Jeez – you die or something?” Edward Valentino was the sleeper’s name; more commonly known as ‘Val’. He was a doctor majoring in linguistic anthropology – at his late father’s behest – but his truest and lifelong passion was zoology, a hobby that had come in handy about as much as his doctorate of late. Val groaned and rubbed the bags under his eyes, pinching groggily with his index and thumb. He had just come off a twelve-hour shift only thirty minutes before, proving there was no rest for the wicked. He felt sick to his stomach, a sickness that was half exhaustion and half excitement. Val’s heart began to race in his chest as soon as those words sunk in, knowing what they meant. ‘It’s time,’ time to make history.
Val had grown up thinking that all the world’s mysteries had been solved, that everything in their solar system had become known, and that mankind had reached their most pinnacle point – the apex of understanding. There had been nothing else to discover, nothing else to learn that hadn’t been learned a hundred years before – until there was. “I’m alive, Malcom – somehow… Ugh – the batteries are charged already?” Val uttered as he pulled his mess of red hair back into a loose ponytail. “That was a lot sooner than we thought… I was hoping I’d get at least an hour or two in.”
“Against your best efforts, right,” Malcom, his junior, said snidely while pantomiming a bottle. He shook his head and huffed before saying, “There was a sudden burst of energy from the Gate. Scared the shit out of the night crew. Don’t know where it pulled it from, but it charged them right to max. This thing wants to be opened…”
“Would seem so, wouldn’t it?” Val said with a hiss and a halfhearted glare at his companion – partially directed at the prodding comment but mostly aimed at his lack of excitement. “It hasn’t done that before, right?”
“No, it has,” Malcom corrected, “just never under direct view. Dr. Cain has this written up as the fourth or fifth occurrence, and I believe it. You know how close she watches that thing from her booth. Same as you and the book.”
“Well, then let’s not keep it waiting,” Val returned with a snort and eyebrow raise. “Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more.”
The Gate, it was a manmade device, but its blueprints were beyond man in time and space. In the year 2227, twelve years before that fateful day, a series of stone books had been discovered on an island in, of all places, the Antarctic. But that hadn’t even been the strangest part. No, the real bewilderment came from the radiometric dating, which placed the books somewhere between the Cretaceous and the Paleogene periods - a few tens of million years before anyone that could carve them. Either they were the last will and testament of the dinosaurs or they were, as extensive research would deem, otherworldly. By pure luck, it seemed, aliens, precursors to mankind, had been found not in the vast reaches of space, but in the inventory of a defunct geothermal plant. How they themselves had come across them hadn’t been recorded, but it was assumed by their age that they had been discovered while drilling the vent when the plant was first built. Val hated the thought of how much longer the books would have sat there if the Dyson Grid hadn’t been completed – forever probably.
Discovered within the books was a beyond ancient language, the First Language – dubbed Adamic. With the help of the most advanced A.I. ever created and the entirety of human history, Val and his colleagues managed to decode the language in seven of those twelve years – with he becoming one of the first and few people in the world who could speak and read it in any real capacity. They had not only decoded an alien language but managed to link it directly to humanity. It was a feat that quickly brought him up near the peak of their facilities ranks, and one deemed unrepeatable, though not for lack of ability. Knowledge of the language was to be kept to a very select few as they quickly discovered that it and the books written in it held unimaginable power. “Any news from Peter?” Val asked as he pushed himself to his feet to follow Malcom down the hall, before saying, “Last report said that their ‘Specialist’ was actually making progress with the Beacon. I doubt some ex-jarhead could do what all their entire geek squad couldn’t - and they had theirs built before us even.”
“Hey – I’m an ex-jarhead and part of the geek squad, remember?” Malcom said with a knuckle wrap on his head. “How can you still be salty about washing out of P.E. in your thirties? Jeez. But no, nothing. You know how Peter the 1st island is – weird. We can send messages to Pluto and back without a single grain of static, but that dump… pffrt! Might as well be using snail-mail. But we’ll hear from them in a few days probably – ah-ah-ah! Hold the elevator!” Malcom abruptly called, shouting down the hall to a group of helmeted techs no doubt heading to the same place they were. “Do you know who this is? If you make us late you can kiss your next break goodbye! I’ll invent plasma conduits for you to scrub.”
“Yes Malcom, we know,” replied one tech dryly as they stuck out a foot to hold the door. They removed their helmet, exposing a familiar face while letting long curly brown hair fall to her shoulders. “And you’re lucky you’re cute, fucking nerd. Did you just reference a two-hundred-year-old T.V. show?”
Instantly Malcom’s cheeks turned beet red as he started blubbering out an excuse, saying “I – I was only…”
“Swinging your dick around?” the Head Tech finished with a huff and a roll of her eyes. “I’ve seen that thing… Probably best not to embarrass yourself too much and keep it to yourself.”
“Shit, Carla… mean, but okay,” Malcom whimpered as he pushed into the elevator with a chortling Val in tow. Carla Brooks was an abrasive woman who suffered from what one might call severe resting-bitch-face, but that was only the surface. Beneath the scowls and murderous rapier wit she was also a brilliant technician with more degrees in engineering than they had staff. Without taking her eyes off the descending number flashing above their heads she pulled Malcom to her side and then asked almost warmly, “Are we still on for Saturday?”
“Of course,” confirmed Malcom with a smile. “But honestly, how can you think about fish and chips at a time like this?”
“Easily, I’m hungry,” Carla returned in a ‘matter-of-fact’ tone. “I for one can’t wait until I can get the fuck out of this place. I’mma sleep under the stars until the day I die, Mal.”
“You two will have to tell me how Maui is,” Val pitched in a wistful voice. “Hell, tell me how vacation is. Pretty sure I’m going to be down here until the day I die.”
With a loud ding the elevator came to a stop. “Level – 4B: Gate Room,” the A.I. system announced. “Welcome: Dr. Valentino, Chief-Technician Brooks and company.”
“Hey,” Malcom exclaimed, jabbing an accusing finger up towards the elevator camera, “I’m a doctor too, you know! Jeez, I swear this thing hates me…”
“Nah – you don’t hate Malcom do you, Akosha?” Carla asked as dry as a stale cracker.
“Negative, Miss Brooks,” the A.I. announced. “I neither like or dislike Malcom.”
“DOCTOR Malcom!” Hollered Malcom up at the camera while tossing his arms into the air. “Jeez! Just open up already…”
As soon as the doors opened the gaggle of scientists and engineers flooded out of the elevator and into the Gate Room to their respected stations. The Gate Room itself was a large octagonal chamber of smooth white concrete about a hundred feet across in all directions. At the center was another octagon, one made of transparent steel, and at the heart of it was the gate.
The device wasn’t a gate in the traditional sense, but instead a biomechanical obelisk that could supposedly absorb and eject energized matter. From their translations and the illustrations featured in the Libro ex Portarum – a Latin bastardization of “The Book of Portals” – the gate was a Precursor teleportation device. It’s presumed function was to translate and transport matter from one state and place to another. If they could successfully activate it, they could, in theory, travel to anywhere in the solar system in the blink of an eye. But the power requirements for the device were immense – enough to run the entire city of New Houston for three years, according to Brooks. But now it was charged, today was finally the day they would be able to turn it on.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Val slid his hand over the console in front of him to wake it up. Lights danced across his face as the system finished its final diagnostic. He smiled widely and gave the rest of the team a thumbs-up as Akosha announced over the intercoms, “All processes are complete. Energy containment levels meet the optimal parameters for device activation. Do you wish to activate the test procedure?” Val waited a breath to scan the room for a confirmation vote from his colleagues. Nine nods – the test would proceed. “Confirm,” he replied firmly. “Activate the test procedure, Akosha. Let’s turn this thing on, people! Let’s make history.”
“Confirmation received,” the A.I. relayed. “All systems are standing by for command phrase. Speak clear the Kelhsterg to continue.”
Val let out a deep sigh of anticipation as he slid a hand down the closely cropped beard that veiled his face. This was it, he thought, and he was more nervous than the day his beloved said yes. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. He had to get this exactly right – the Kelhsterg, the word of power. Adamic didn’t just sound alien when spoken, it felt alien too, forbidden even. He had spent the last few years perfecting his speech to the point it came to him as easy as his native tongue, but he had never managed to get over that alien feeling that came with it. It was the root of all human language, and yet it felt wrong to know – like it wasn’t meant for them.
‘A scar upon the soul,’ Malcom had called it, left over from the fall of Babel, aching, warning of the approaching storm. Malcom was clutching his grandmother’s crucifix now, tight against his chest. He had never truly believed, despite having been raised Catholic, but Val could see him muttering a prayer all the same. Val waited until Malcom mouthed the word ‘amen’ before continuing. He steeled himself and stood firmly, speaking from the back of the throat and from deep within his chest. “SoPeth gwedh Ħeme…” Val uttered in practice, words that roughly translated to ‘Open, says I.’ And though the words seemed simple, there were great power in them, if you had the tools to access it. The tome, the Libro ex Portarum, was that tool.
On a pedestal before him, encased in adamant beside the console, was the book – thirty-eight stone pages older than mankind itself. At the wave of a hand the tome’s protective shielding retracted into its base. Momentarily Val stared down at the alabaster stone, at the intricate gold trim, and the alien features carved into the face of it. Placing his hand upon it as if he were being sworn for trial, he then repeated the phrase with emphasis drawn from his very soul, “SoPeth gwedh Ħeme!”
“Command phrase validated,” Akosha announced. “Warning: Pneumatic ignition detected.”
Pneuma – it was the unseen and nearly undetectable force or energy that all living things possessed – another discovery owed to the precursor’s tomes. An ignition had been purely theoretical, but now the theory had become fact and they were seeing it for the first time, blooming like plasmatic flowers. The Gate, it was activating. The iridescent petals quickly grew into aethereal vines, ropes of amaranth energy that pulsed in and out of being like bolts of lightning, seemingly drawn to the barrier around them. “It’s beautiful!” Shouted a technician from Carla’s team, his voice betraying the excitement their helmets hid. “Chief, do you see that?! Wow… Just wow!”
Val didn’t know what beauty their visual enhancements saw behind their blacked-out visors, but what he saw with the naked eye filled him with dread. The bolts of plasmatic lightning weren’t striking at random, but with predatory intent, reaching out towards whatever soul was closest to the barrier. “Energy levels are dropping, Val,” Called Malcom from his station. “The A.I. didn’t catch it, but they’re dropping fast! Whatever it’s doing is consuming all of it!”
“System report, Akosha!” Val hollered. “What’s going on? System report, dammit! Carla, run a diagnostic, quick!” Without a word the chief technician began throwing her hands this way and that, tapping wildly at screens only she could see. When that proved useless, she tossed her helmet to the side with a curse before running to a physical terminal. “I can’t, Val! I can’t access the systems at all,” Carla shouted frantically. “Akosha is offline – the A.I. is down!”
The lashes of pneuma ignited again, turning from amaranth lightning bolts to an immense canopy of branches packed so tightly it was nearly impossible to spy the Gate within. It crackled with such ferocity that Val couldn’t hope to hear the screams – but he could see them. He could see the frightened faces as Carla directed their crew out of the chamber, or rather she tried to. With Akosha out of the equation so were the doors, leaving the gate room effectively sealed. They would die there, trapped miles underground – just as it was designed to, that place would become their tomb if they couldn’t escape.
Val didn’t even try to. He was mesmerized, and even as Malcom shook him violently by the shoulders, he couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop from watching that hairline crack inch its way down the glass. The glass gave way like the shell of a hatching egg, letting free the monster of their will and alien design. Plasmatic arms reached out, grasping, groping, clawing for those piling up at the elevator doors. Those screams Val could hear. Bolts of eldritch energy deconstructed everyone they struck, turning them from living, breathing, people that Val had known for years into unrecognizable sludge that splattered the floors and walls. He couldn’t understand what they had done wrong; they had followed the blueprints to the letter! Why, why was it malfunctioning?! They had done everything right, gave it exactly what it called for – which left one answer: it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. The device was doing exactly what it was designed to do – translate matter.
The Gate was working exactly as designed, Val could see that now as he watched in horror as the pink slime that used to be his colleagues began slithering across the floor, drawn into the chamber by some horrid force. Would they wake up fine, he wondered, reconstituted somewhere across the universe? Would they all laugh about this one day – how scared they were over nothing? The writhing feeling of cold reality knotting up in his guts warned him against such wishful thinking. They were gone. Dead and gone, and for what? They had given it all the energy it required to function! Except, Val thought dreadfully, something to channel all that energy into. Not even something so fantastical could create something from nothing, he realized. They were the nothing, the missing piece, and that something was coming through, built upon their basest parts.
At some point Carla had managed to breach the door. Val could hear her calling to him, pleading, crying out as loud as she could, but it was all faint whispers to his ears. He couldn’t move – no, he wouldn’t move. All he could do was watch in awe and horror, gawking unblinkingly until his eyes burned and even that faint whisper faded away, until all that was left in the world, it seemed, was him and the infernal device – his grand success, his call to fame.
Like the workings of a 3d printer the biomass began drawing out humanoid shape and form, layer by accursed layer. In that world, faded to a dull and colorless drone, Val watched for what felt like hours for the form to be completed. In truth it had taken only mere moments, and as soon as that breath forced its way free from his lungs it was complete, and the pneumatic ignition faded like everything else. It stood tall, the anunnakian horror, so tall it was spawned in a crouching position and still filled the chamber wall to wall, ceiling to floor. Six-fingered hands pressed up against the glass and at the lightest pressure the transteel shattered. Finally, Val was able to look away, if only to avoid the shower of shards. “E-Eddy…” Uttered a soft and quaking voice, the sound of the world returning to him. “What… what is that thing?”
It was Carla, standing in the breached doorway with Malcom half-slung over her shoulder. They had returned for him – the fools. If only they knew what he wouldn’t dare admit to himself. “Why didn’t you just run…?” Val sobbed, snapped out of his stupor. The entire room was stained with the being’s makeup, with his colleagues, his friends – blood that also stained his hands. Val struggled to swallow, endeavored to stand. “Why didn’t I just run?” As he gazed around the room, at the destruction and carnage, and the antediluvian monstrosity alive before them, Carla’s question came to the forefront of his mind. “What… What are you?!” Val cried out towards the being. It ignored him, so he shouted again, this time in Adamic. This time it heard him. “K-kwis hes tuħ?!” Val barely managed to stammer out before the being turned their horrible gaze upon him and forever more, he sorely wished it hadn’t. “Kwis hes t…!”
“Kwos hes ħeme?” the being echoed muddily, its voice as hauntingly deep as whatever chthonic prison he had freed it from. The great bloody thing reached out and gripped the jagged edges of the ruined chamber. It pulled itself free and stood before him, manlike but muliebral, with a circular crown of horns upon its brow that scraped the ceiling twenty feet up. Nebulitic eyes bore down upon him out of the veil of crimson, and the sheer weight of that gaze forced Val to his knees. The being then spoke again, two words only Val could understand, its cavernous voice an earthquake upon his very soul. “soĦme hes!” it said – I AM.