“I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me,” Walter said.

Maxwell guessed Walter was a demon. He looked exactly like Maxwell had always imagined demons. Walter’s face was a jagged, mottled green with sharp fangs and a forked tongue. He had no nose, just two almond-shaped holes that sat in the center of his face below pit-like eyes. The rest of his body was full of suitably pointy ridges and spikes. The only problem was that all of it was encased in an expertly tailored three-piece suit. The suit accommodated all the spikes and pointy bits with perfectly fitted holes, and perched atop his head between two twisting horns was a pale blue bowler hat with a thick black band. Even with the suit, he wouldn’t look out of place wreathed in flame atop a mountain of skulls or, at least, he wouldn’t look out of place if he could stop shaking and screaming.

“You’re Walter, are you not?” IT asked.

“Maybe. I mean, yes, OK, but what does that have to do with anything, and why do you have a human with you?”

“We’re asking the questions here,” IT said. It was clearly enjoying all of this. “Are you not the memory clerk responsible for the case file of one Maxwell Munin?”

“Oh God.”

“I thought as much,” IT said.

Walter looked as if he was on the edge of tears. “I knew you would find me. Am I fired? Will there be torture?”

“It’s not what you think,” Marigold said, stepping forward. “We’re not here to punish you.”

“You’re not?”

Marigold shook her head. “The robot gets overexcited. I think there’s something wrong with it.”

“Ha,” IT said.

“I’m a Caretaker. The System that regulates the Frontend stopped working yesterday, and with the help of the robot, I figured out the source of the problem,” Marigold said. She gestured to Maxwell.

“Hello,” Maxwell said. He waved awkwardly.

Walter’s eyes grew larger as if he had briefly forgotten about the System outage. “Humans can’t be here. Why would you bring him here? He should be back on the other side.”

“We’re working on that,” IT said.

“Does anyone know? What if they come looking for you? Oh God, they’re probably already looking for you. They’ll be coming here, won’t they?”

“Look,” Marigold continued. “Maxwell is the root of the problem. That’s why he’s here. But he’s not the reason for it.”

Walter laughed an unconvincing laugh. “And you think I am? Why would you think that?”

“Think what?” Marigold said.

Walter entered full-on panic. “It was just a button, just a button on the screen. Why would they let me have access to a button that could stop everything?”

“Ah-ha!” IT said. “I knew it. What button did you press exactly?”

“The automate one. It was there, waiting to be pushed. Should I not have automated? I shouldn’t have automated, right?”

“Automating the accounting wouldn’t have caused this on its own. What else did you do? Think carefully,” IT said.

Thinking appeared to be too much for Walter. He set the paper bag he was holding down on the table and took a seat. He looked as if he might faint.

“Before I pressed automate, there was an error message.”

“That’s more like it. What did it say?” IT asked. It moved closer to Walter along the table. The robot was in full interrogation mode now.

“I have no idea, something about memory deprivation, I think.”

“Allocation? Was it memory allocation?”

“Maybe. I don’t know…yes, yes, that sounds right.”

“I knew it.” IT spun around to face Marigold.

“Is that good? Can we fix things?” Maxwell asked.

“No idea, but I was right.”

“How did you find me? How did you know where I’d be?” Walter asked.

“We asked,” Marigold replied. “You follow a pretty fixed schedule.”

“So, someone knows you were looking for me? With a human?”

“Calm down,” Marigold said. “Maxwell was out of sight, and I explained I was a friend looking to surprise you.”

“What friends? I don’t have friends that would be looking for me here. That was the best you could come up with?”

“Enough,” IT said, pivoting back to Walter. “None of that is important. What’s important is you’re going to help us solve this problem. You’re going to get us access to Maxwell’s memories.”

“How? Nothing’s working. I can’t give you access to my computer if I can’t turn it on.”

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“You must know something that can help us,” Marigold replied.

“I don’t know anything.”

“Then who does?” IT asked. “Could your supervisor help us?”

“Turgle?” Walter laughed. It was an ugly snort of a laugh. “He knows less than I do. Maybe Jena? She shows up when there are problems with the computers.”

“No,” IT said. “Nobody from any tech department. They’ll just try to process Maxwell, and he’ll be dead by the time they realize they’ve messed up.”

“If that’s the protocol, why not try it? No offense,” Walter said, looking at Maxwell.

“Umm, yeah, but I’d like to go home maybe if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Why?” Walter said. I’ve seen your life. There wasn’t much to it. I really think this would be best for everyone if you just go and do what humans do and die.”

Maxwell wasn’t sure how he should react to this, so he half-nodded and half-smiled.

IT moved even closer to Walter. It was only inches from his face now, and the demon looked uncertain of the robot’s intentions. He flinched slightly.

“Let me tell you what the protocols dictate in this situation. They believe the System has stalled because Maxwell is missing, but as soon as they attempt to process his memories, they’ll discover that the problem is more fundamental. Things will stagnate. The temporal reserves will run out and everything that is malfunctioning now will break down completely. Creatures across the Backend will start stalling, just like in the Frontend. Eventually, everything will stop, and piece by piece the universe will fade away.”

“I get it. It’s bad,” Walter said. “But I have no idea what you think I’m going to do. Most of us here can barely keep up with the computers, let alone fix them.”

“So, nobody in the Bureau of Temporal Accounting can help us with any actual accounting?” Marigold asked.

“It’s ludicrous, I know, but I guarantee you that nobody here has any more knowledge or access than you do.”

“But that’s not exactly true, is it?” IT said.

“What do you mean?” Walter asked.

IT paused for a moment. “How long have you been working with the Bureau?”

“A few centuries.”

“Since the Encryption Pact?”

“I was bound in blood, yes.”

“Then that’s it, isn’t it? You’re not completely useless.”

“What’s going on?” Maxwell asked Marigold. She shook her head.

IT turned around to face Maxwell and Marigold. “Before passwords, more arcane rituals were used to control the flow of time and memory. The System may be down, but reality hasn’t collapsed, so the flame is still burning. Walter has been around long enough to have access. If we were to travel down to the World Cauldron, he could tap into Maxwell’s raw life essence, and maybe we could figure out and fix whatever’s wrong.”

This was all a lot of gibberish to Maxwell, but he decided not to draw attention to his ignorance. He did not much like the sound of someone interfering with his life essence, least of all a nervous demon in a bowler hat, but he disliked standing out even more.

Walter fell into his snort laugh again, but this time it grew into an anxious sort of wheeze. “You expect me to go with you?”

“It could work,” IT said.

“A Caretaker, a vacuum cleaner, and a human. How far do you think we’re going to get?”

“That depends on if you help us,” Marigold said.

Walter let out a single burst of laughter. “Of course, I won’t help you.”

“I know we’re asking a lot, but I can’t imagine things are going to turn out well for you when they find out about your mistake.”

Walter sat up in his seat and looked away. “Well, maybe they won’t find out.”

“You can’t seriously believe that,” Marigold said.

Walter shook his head. “Even if we managed the journey, getting down to the Cauldron won’t necessarily fix anything. I barely even remember what I’m supposed to do down there.”

“What’s the alternative?” Marigold said. “Sit and wait for them to discover what you did? Despite whatever you’re telling yourself to get through the day, they’re going to find out, probably soon.”

“It’s ridiculous. This isn’t a plan, it's conjecture.”

“It’s better than nothing,” IT said.

“Is it? Descend the Core with the trains down?”

“There are other routes,” Marigold replied.

“With a human? A very edible human?”

“I agree it seems difficult, but we have a chance to fix this mess—the mess you caused,” Marigold said.

Walter shook his head and stared down at the table. “I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to fix things, but—”

IT interrupted, but its tone was more subdued than before. “My records show you were a general in the Solitary War. You commanded legions.”

“So?”

“You were noted for your ferocity and bravery.”

Walter looked up from the table, his eyes focused on IT. For the first time, there was something sharp in his voice. “That was a long time ago. A lot has changed. I’ve changed.” He looked back up at Marigold. “I won’t tell anyone you were here, but I can’t help you. I just can’t. Please go.”

Nobody talked. Everyone stared at Walter and hoped he might change his mind. For a moment, it seemed possible. He looked apprehensive as if he was weighing his options, but at last, he sunk back in his chair and shook his head.

“How about information?” he said. “There used to be a Pilgrimage route that went the way you’re heading. If you can make it down past the temporal refineries, there’s an unguarded way through the Core. It should still mostly be intact. It goes through the Wailing Plains, the Old Administrative Quarters, and down through the Archive.”

“But that would be a dead end, wouldn’t it? The ground is a bit of a drop from there,” IT said.

“It’s not though. That’s the trick. At the bottom of the Archive there’s a trap door. If you can open it. There’s a hidden way down to the Old Road. Nobody remembers it anymore, but it’s got to still be there.”

“We’d still need to get through the Hollows unseen and make it past the seal,” IT said.

Walter threw up his hands. “It’s just an idea. I’m just trying to help.”

There was nothing left to say. Walter unfurled his paper bag. Marigold collected IT and tucked the robot away.

“Come on, Maxwell. We’ll have to find help elsewhere.”

Maxwell didn’t immediately follow Marigold. He watched Walter, and after a moment, the demon’s eyes met his.

“What do you want?” Walter asked.

“Nothing, I just wanted to say that I get it. It’s a big ask. You don’t even know us, and we snuck into your workplace. If it were me, I probably wouldn’t help us.”

Walter sighed. “I am sorry.”

He looked back down at the empty table and waited for Maxwell to follow the others. At last, he removed a sandwich from his bag and munched on it glumly.

*

Marigold tied the headscarf back around Maxwell’s face, and they headed down to the ground floor through the same emergency stairwell that had brought them up. They were careful not to be seen, but it didn’t seem to matter. Everyone was in too much of a panic to pay them any attention.

“That wasn’t what we were hoping for, was it?” Maxwell asked.

Marigold ignored the question. Perhaps she thought the answer was obvious.

“What do we do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Marigold replied. “Home, I’ll take you to my apartment. It’s below us on the lower levels. We can figure out the next steps from there.”

“Is it much further?”

Marigold ignored this as well. There was a long pause, and the silence ate at Maxwell until he could no longer tolerate it. “The demon was kind of our best hope, I guess,” he said.

“He was,” Marigold agreed.

“So, what do we do without him?”

“You just asked that,” Marigold said.

“But—”

“Enough. Stop being so pathetic.”

Marigold picked up her pace and Maxwell had trouble keeping up. She put an entire floor between them, and Maxwell could only stumble after her. Even at a distance, however, he could hear IT.

“He’s only human. You don’t need to be so cruel,” the robot said.

“Shut up, or I’ll turn you off,” Marigold replied.

They descended the remaining stairs in silence.

*Side Note II *

Though Maxwell would not have argued he was brave, he thought he was holding up well, all things considered. He did not have a coherent notion of what bravery was, but if put on the spot, he would’ve cobbled together something from his introductory philosophy class in undergrad. That was where he learned (and mostly forgot) about the theological philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. For Kierkegaard, life was suffering and by having the bravery to face and endure that suffering, he believed humans could find a deeper communion with God, and more relevant to Maxwell’s current predicament, a sense of comfort and purpose amidst the horror of existence. Kierkegaard had so much conviction in this belief that rather than ease his suffering, he found the courage to break off his engagement and run away from the woman he loved.

Marigold had never heard of Kierkegaard, but if she had, she would not have liked his large existential pronouncements. Backend philosophers, privy to the inner workings of the cosmos, were more prosaic in their observations than their counterparts on Earth. Culinary philosopher Zavish Orven, for example, defined courage as the ability to exceed the recommended amount of slok-spice in a given recipe. Similarly, the esteemed monk and essayist Anlin Vay, before enduring a six-century vow of silence in the magma estuaries, was famed for saying that the only truly courageous individuals were those who could endure a scorch-bath for over five minutes at a time. Neither philosopher was being metaphorical.

Creatures in the Backend lived for hundreds if not thousands of years, and death was an ambiguous concept for many of them. For this reason, Marigold was starting to think that Maxwell was a coward. Conceptually, she knew he was more fragile than she was, but surely that was just what it meant to be human. He really should have got over worrying about the whole thing by now.