CHAPTER TWO

  “He’s lying,” Dante professed once more to a very amused Giovanni. “He’s just some fool with a mental problem, it’s not like we haven’t had any of those sorts of people before, right?”

  Giovanni chuckled. “Well certainly, but do you truly believe what you’re saying? This isn’t just idle gossip for you, is it?”

  “No. I’m letting you know that my duties are being wasted on this guy. Why record a compulsive liar? It’ll ruin the archives!”

  Still smiling, Giovanni placed a hand to his temple and stared at Dante with a discerning gaze. Then he sighed. “Come on, Dante. You know as well as I do that we must record everyone’s story, absolutely every single one of them. It doesn’t matter if they’re a liar or they’re mentally incapacitated or if they’re in some way untrustworthy. The duty of a recorder is to record, leave the actual facts to those in the upper offices.”

  Dante frowned but nodded. Giovanni had accurately stated something that they both knew to be both truthful and foolish at the same time, as in cases which were obviously lies it would be a waste of everyone’s time to record. Still, as he had so correctly pointed out, it was the duty of a recorder to record, and with that Dante knew he could complain no longer, though he wished to do so.

  With that, Giovanni and Dante went their separate ways, Giovanni returning to his office and Dante to Captain Pluto’s cell. He had to take a lift that way, and did his best to spend the five minutes on board sleeping. Incessant noises from the other occupants prevented that from happening, and when Dante made it to Captain Pluto he was very tired, having barely slept at all the night prior. This would be fine, he thought, as the prisoners would typically also get no sleep due to their inevitable demise lingering in their minds, halting any and all rest before the eternal rest would take them.

  When Dante entered the cell he gasped. Captain Pluto sat still, head bowed, the subtle reverberation of his labored breathing echoing in the soft tissue of Dante’s ear. The noise of the door shutting behind him stirred the captain, and he yawned, stretched, then greeted Dante with a level of brevity the recorder was unaccustomed to.

  “Good morning!” Captain Pluto said with a groan as he stretched out his body. “Are we doing another session?”

  “Yes,” Dante said, drawing the word out as he tried his best to show no sign of surprise. Without looking into Pluto’s eyes, Dante began removing the recording device once more, preparing it for the session ahead of them. He hoped it would be better than the last. Perhaps, he thought, the man before him might speak the truth.

  “Well good. I figure we can just pick up right at Stratum 57 if that’s fine with you. I know we only have seven days for this, so I’ll try and hit the most important parts of my story, but Stratum 57 seems appropriate to me. It might have been the most important part of my life, truth be told.”

  Something in Dante’s visage must have betrayed his attempts at being unreadable, because Pluto smirked at him and said, “I bother you, don’t I?”

  “Hmm? No, of course not Mr. Pluto. I’m simply absorbed in my work.”

  “No you’re not,” he said as if it were plain as day. Dante flinched but continued to prepare the recorder. “Even while I spoke to you yesterday, I could tell you didn’t like this. What about my story seems so implausible to you? Is it the distance? My experience with the Nanos? The Hellwhip? My escape?”

  “Try all of the above,” Dante sighed, finished save for starting the actual recording process. “Everything about you is headache inducing. You speak nonsense and waste my time. You then waste more time by forcing those above me to search your stories for any truth, any merit at all, thereby wasting a collective 140 hours total, at best, nearly 17o at worst. So yes, you can expect me to be a cold, unfeeling man towards you while you continue to lie to me. Now here, begin your story Mr. Pluto so that I might rest later. I’m very tired.”

  Dante waited, but Captain Pluto merely stared at him blankly, sending an odd shiver up his spine. After a moment, he stopped the empty recording and deleted it.

  “Are you going to cooperate or no?”

  Shaking his head, Pluto asked, “If you aren’t willing to believe a poor man’s dying words, then why should I waste my breath? I’d rather enjoy the peace and quiet, think of a few ancient memories that give me comfort, and maybe catch a nap. That all sounds much better than reliving some of the worst moments of my life only for some homebody fool who lives in a world of hypotheticals tell me that every experience I’ve ever had must be a lie because of how remarkable they are. A shame, really. You seem very smart, and you could do a lot with intelligence like that if only you were open to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong and what I tell you is true.”

  With that, Pluto was silent once more, leaving Dante dumbfounded and red in the face. Dante wished more than anything to yell at the man, scream at him about how much of a waste of time it was for him to sit there and listen, that he was missing out on recording real stories in favor of recording Pluto’s fantasies, but he knew nothing good would come of such conflict. Giovanni would have to report that Dante shirked his duties, and Dante would more than likely be forced to stop recording all together if it was found he didn’t record even one story from one liar. So, with an irritable sigh, Dante did his best to compose himself and work up a lie of his own.

  “Mr. Pluto,” he said through grit teeth, “I understand your feelings and wish nothing more than to apologize. Sincerely, of course. I am as you say, a homebody. For me, recording is how I may see the outside world, experience things I might never experience otherwise. It is an honorable duty, however, and my personal feelings aside, it must be done. So please, if you would, continue your story. Not for me, but for Stratum 999.”

Captain Pluto continued staring blankly at Dante, unnerving him until finally Pluto broke out in a grin, unable to contain his amusement. “Well, that was a horrible attempt at an apology. But sure, I’ll continue my story. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something.”

  Anger swelling inside him, Dante pressed the record button once more and muttered, “I highly doubt that,” under his breath as Pluto began composing his thoughts once again.

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  Passage between strata can be a complicated process or a supremely simple one depending on how far into Mobius you are. At this point in its life cycle, were I to attempt safe passage into Stratum 1000 it would more than likely be easy enough. Usually this deep into Mobius it is something like a shuttle which goes outside of the structure, through space, then parks itself into the nearest strata. Or it could be an LG shaft, which means you just push off hard from the door and float to the other side.

  The passage from Stratum 56 to Stratum 57 was of course neither of these. It was, in fact, a shaft similar in design to the LG shafts I would later experience, but instead of having a lower gravitational force it instead has the same gravity as always. If anything it might be heavier. In addition to this, the shaft isn’t a simple shot forward but can be labyrinthian in nature. No one lives in these shafts which take us to the next strata. No Nanos work in these connecting shafts, at least not on a daily basis. There is little purpose to them aside from being another link in the chain that is Mobius. To describe my time in that passage between 56 and 57 as lonely would be a gross understatement. Until I made it to the massive door which guarded me from the new world before me, I believed I was in Purgatorio, living my sentence.

  Once the hatch door closed behind me, the first thing I did was search for food or a nutrition station. It’s difficult for me to say how long it took me to travel as far as I had, but my ribs were beginning to poke through my suit and my energy was constantly low so I knew it had to have been some time since I had last recharged in any meaningful way.

  When I was a child—as I was back then, though perhaps this is more true for when I was even younger than then—I would often spend time pondering about what other places might be like, what other strata could look like. How the people would dress, how the food was prepared. Would they play games? Would they create their own paradise? Would they live in harmony with Nanos? Fight them? I’d try and conceive every possibility. Sometimes I still wonder if those possibilities exist in Mobius.

  What I learned that day upon entering Stratum 57 was that reality is never as we might expect.

  Stratum 57 was laid out completely different from my home. Where 56 was a place of halls and order, 57 was a vast dome of pure nothing. Where 56 the people were corralled into so-called villages, 57 had no where to corral at all. Where 56 had Nanos occupying as much space as possible, 57 appeared as lifeless as the corridor preceding it. The dome was massive, and I could clearly see every corner of the stratum as far as my eyes could see, a haze only appearing at the furthest tip away from my position. If at any point I turned too fast, I would become nauseous from the sight. It was like being at the center of a kaleidoscope of metal, and I was a part of the pattern.

  There was no time for me to dwell on any of it. My survival mattered more.

  With no directions to go by, I followed the path set before me in hopes that I might find what I needed to live.

  A day passed before I found a nutrition replenishment station.

  It was a lonely thing, set aside on a platform where most of the lights were either flickering or had shut down. During my journey to find the NRS, I quickly realized that the entire stratum had been abandoned long ago. There were signs that humans might have lived there before, that Nanos had to have been there to create it in the first place, but the stratum itself felt liminal, a place long forgotten but long ago imprinted upon. In some corners there would be forgotten litter, and on my way to the NRS I did find an area that appeared to have been designed as a Nano charging station—a place I had stopped at to see about recharging my Hellwhip, and I was relieved that a Nano charging station could recharge the weapon. But there was no sign of any humans to leave such trash, no sign of any Nanos that might need charging. The place was abandoned.

  When I finished replenishing myself, I unplugged from the NRS and began moving down the path once more when I heard a voice. At first I whipped around to see where the voice was coming from. Quickly I realized the voice was in my head, and I focused on it to listen.

  Lost already? How sad.

  “Who are you?” I asked aloud, unsure how to communicate to something I couldn’t see.

  Who am I? Why we’ve already met.

  “I’d remember meeting a disembodied voice. Show yourself, or leave me in peace.”

  Indeed? Well if you wish to bumble about in the dark, then be my guest.

  With that, the voice was on its way. Once or twice I tried again to speak with it, to discern its author, but it chose not to return. And so I continued to bumble in the dark.

  Even if one doesn’t have vertigo as a condition, it is difficult to not feel vertigo navigating Stratum 57. It’s design is so strange, with its single path spiraling upward along the dome, that if for even a moment your eyes wander and search outside the path you will become faint. The journey through that strata took a long time, and so I became accustomed to keeping my eyes on only what was necessary to see. A lack of wandering eyes made for a rather boring crusade, but at least I wasn’t spewing fluids down the shaft back to Stratum 56.

  Using my vision for only what was necessary was—perhaps obviously to you—not safe. As I was walking down the endless path I heard a noise to my left. Fearful of seeing the expanse of the dome, I kept my head forward.

  I couldn’t see the blast behind me.

  My body flew and was sent sprawling, pain erupting across me in general. When I searched for my attacker I saw nothing. I called out to see if they would show themselves, but no one came.

  Breathing shakily, I picked up my Hellwhip and turned the setting to three just in case, the low hum of its energy the loudest thing in the area. By this point in my journey through Stratum 57, I knew that each NRS was spaced out equally by roughly fifty kilometers. The last one I had used was perhaps half that distance away from me, so I was roughly halfway to the next one. With that knowledge, I limped slightly and was on my way.

  Then I was on the ground again, a loud boom shaking me and sending me downward.

  I couldn’t be sure where it was coming from, but I called out again and heard nothing in response. Though I was unwilling to do so, I decided to check over the guard rail and see if my pursuer was somehow floating in the abyss. My check was cursory so that I might not feel too sick, but once again I saw nothing. Frustration pouring over me, I stomped off and muttered something under my breath, some angry curse whose origins I forget.

  You won’t find them. They’re a master of staying in the shadows.

  I blinked, confused. Turned around in a huge circle once, twice.

  Don’t worry. I’m a friend.

  This made me worry more, and fighting through the agony I began sprinting faster than I should have. My breathing was ragged and my body was sagging within minutes. To top it off, my body hadn’t fully recovered from the installation of the CMP, and my vision began clouding with black spots everywhere. Before I could even decide to halt my body, I hit the wall to my right, spun around and slid across the metal, the skin suit doing its best to keep my body from being hurt too badly.

  Are you going to stop this foolishness? Or will you continue to run from that which you cannot run from?

  My vision was still messed up, and I couldn’t be sure I was in immediate danger. Deciding speaking might not be a bad idea, I started talking to the disembodied voice.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here? And why can’t I see you?”

  One at a time, please. May I answer in chronological order?

  “Sure, do whatever you want. Just answer me.”

  I am what is known as a Personnel Operations Entity. I reside within the Cerebral Memory Port that is housed in the back of your skull. The one who originally created all CMP drives decided that having an AI implant would be helpful, so that is what I’m doing here. As for why you can’t see me, well, I believe that has been adequately answered by my explanation already.

  Still seeing the black spots, I placed my free hand on the wall to try and level myself. No noises had occurred, no large bangs or blasts had interrupted us. I still felt unsafe.

  “Well if that’s the case, why did you act like you already knew me when you attempted to speak to me before? I’ve never met you.

  Oh, but you have! I’m the AI that was residing in the man who installed the CMP in you.

  Understanding, I began nodding.

  “So that man was also wearing a Personnel Operations Entity, the same one I have. Which means you’re called Poe.”

  Indeed, although to say I am worn is incorrect. I am not an accessory.

  “Well, I’ll be the judge of that. Can you help me figure out if I’m alone here? Those loud noises and the movement of the structure are worrying me.”

  Well, being housed in here limits me in some ways, but I can give it a try. Bear with me for a moment.

  While that was going on I started taking my first steps once again, growing slightly more confident by the second though I couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Poe was a symptom of my CMP like the black dots were, that instead of speaking with an AI I was really hearing ghosts.

  Perhaps fifteen minutes had passed when Poe returned.

  After scanning Stratum 57’s network, I’ve found that there are only ten entities here. It’s difficult for me to determine just how close or far they are from your location, but it would appear that none of them are close enough to do you any harm, nor were they close enough earlier to cause you to fall over.

  Grimacing, I muttered, “Maybe that was all an illusion then.”

  If you would like, I can run diagnostics on your body to be sure that hallucinations aren’t occurring for you? The results would be much faster than the previous ones as I’m already inside your network.

  I didn’t think it over very long.

  “No, that’s fine.”

  Are you certain? It’s really a simple procedure. You can even continue to move while I—

  “Look, I’m sure you can do it. There’s no point though if I can’t trust the results. After all, you yourself could be a hallucination”

  If I could see him, I’d feel like he was irked.

  Well how do I prove my existence to you?

  “You don’t. Maybe if I find someone who is an expert in CMP technology I can get them to show you to me, but until someone like that comes along the safest thing for me to do is assume you are a false being, some kind of hallucination brought about by the installation process. If I’m lucky, you’ll disappear in a week or two.”

  What a pleasant thought.

  “What’s an AI need of sarcasm? Bah!” I groaned, frustrated. “If I ignore you I bet you’ll go away faster. Be gone, leave me in peace!”

  And so began my trial of giving Poe the silent treatment, a difficult task to say the least. My emotional battle with Tom was far simpler, as both of us being separate entities we could have space apart, say things out of earshot, all sorts of things to stay locked within our own feelings. You, being some kind worker in the upper echelon of society, probably has no experience with this sort of thing. From what I’ve seen of the more recent strata, technology has evolved in a more biologically friendly way. The ancient installations of pure metal into bone are done with, the connections of wires with nerves seen as archaic. I’m sure you already know in your heart it’s a barbaric, unsavory thing to do. Well, trust me from personal experience I can whole-heartedly say it’s more horrible than you can imagine.

  Poe prattled on in my head endlessly for days.

  Or at least, for what felt like days. It was difficult to tell. During that time, little else had happened. I continued to follow the path upwards and closer towards Stratum 58, and I incurred no additional injury or endured any other hallucination save for the endless speeches of Poe. A few times I nearly broke, almost started talking with him again. The more he spoke, the more curious I’d become. The only thing stopping me from asking him questions was the admission that were I to ask questions in anticipation of real answers, that I would be admitting belief in his existence within my skull, and I wished to avoid that reality at all costs.

  After traveling a distance I’d estimate to be around 250 kilometers based on the NRS machines I’d stopped at, Poe was busy waxing philosophical when something appeared at the edge of my vision. Around the corner stood a figure, far enough away and obscured in the shadows so I couldn’t see what or who exactly it might be. Phantoms like this appeared often while I traveled Stratum 57. The hallucinations onset by the installation of the CMP were quite powerful, plus the hindrance solitude has on the human mind is more potent than you might think. Because of my prior encounters with such creatures, I continued to walk without any second thought.

  What’s that? Wait!

  A simple string of words, but a string powerful enough to stop me cold. Until that moment, Poe hadn’t acknowledged any of the phantoms I had seen.

  Scanning…

  “You can see it too?” I asked, my words coming out thick through spit shut lips.

  And you can speak, how insane.

  “Be serious. What is it?”

  There was silence for a moment, and I fiddled with my Hellwhip, ensuring it was working and set to level three still.

  Hmm… well I can’t say for sure, but it appears to be a Nano of odd origins.

  “A Nano? Here?”

  Indeed. I’ll try and see if I can infiltrate its system and decipher where it came from. This whole strata was abandoned long ago, there should be no more workers here.

  “Didn’t you say there were ten beings here? Could he be one of them?”

  Unlikely. The beings I scanned weren’t Nanos. One of them was you, for that matter, so there should only be nine other entities here, all human. This is an anomaly.

  Frightened, I found I couldn’t sit still. Running away wouldn’t work as it had already seen me, and with only one pathway there was nowhere to run for me. So, after at first fidgeting and fumbling with my weapon, I began inching forward before running for the Nano, ready to blast it away with my Hellwhip.

  Wait! You don’t know what you’re doing!

  Poe’s warning was too little too late.

  I got within pointblank range of the Nano and immediately saw that it was nothing like the others I had seen before. Whereas the Nanos I had known were all one eyed bots hovering lightly above the floor, this Nano had a humanoid appearance with two legs. In fact, it wore what appeared to be a cloak about its person. The face was still simply a single camera however, making it look more like a cyclops.

  Hesitating, I pulled the trigger slowly.

  My body was sent tumbling backward. Having not used the weapon for a long time I was already weak and unprepared for the recoil. Breathing heavily, I got to my feet and saw the Nano was standing as it had before, though now it was a few yards away from where it once stood, the flapping of its cloak the only indication it had physically moved to get out of the way.

  With your current physical conditioning, there’s no way you can defeat this Nano. You need to fall back!

  Hallucination or not, Poe was correct. Scrambling to my feet I started to run away, but my eyes weren’t facing the right way and I became woozy, black dots invading my eyes again. I hit the guard rail and nearly fell off, tumbling to my death slowly before splattering on the metal who knows how many kilometers below. I felt myself about to fall.

  Something grabbed my ankles and I hung over the guard rail, blood rushing to my head uncomfortably fast.

  Well that’s unexpected.

  I tried asking what but nothing came out. There was a noise, an unfamiliar voice.

  Then whatever was holding my ankles let go.

  The shock caused me to black out.

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  Sitting across from me was a man who appeared to be in his fifties, though at the time I was unsure how old he was as my knowledge of adulthood was limited. He wore a heavy coat and pants, with a skin suit beneath poking through the gaps in the clothes. A long rifle rested against the wall near us, presumably his weapon. I realized I was resting in some kind of makeshift bed that surrounded my whole body. The man smiled at my reaction to this.

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  “It’s just a sleeping bag. Here,” he said, unzipping it so I could easily removed myself from it.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I’m the man who saved your life from that Nano,” he said, sitting back down. “You were about to be dropped down the shaft. What a horrible fate that would have been, and for a child no less.” He held something to his lips, then offered it to me. I looked at him confused until he said, “Drink?”

  In my previous recollection, I explained my experience eating for the first time. This was the first time I ever had a drink of something. It was just water infused with vitamins and minerals, created in some lab on the station. Still, it was delicious. The NRS machines keep you from feeling parched, but that feeling comes back the moment you have a drink of water. It’s as if the liquid reminds you that you’re supposed to feel that way, that you need to drink to live.

  “Good?” he asked, my answer obvious on my face.

  Handing the flask back to him, I said, “You didn’t actually answer me. Thank you for saving me, but who are you? What are you doing in this abandoned place?”

  The man stared at me for a second as if assessing me, then he nodded to himself. “My name is Reagor. I work with the excavation crew to better understand what happened here.” I raised my eyebrows, and he smiled sadly. “Right, you must not know. Well, a long time ago this place was actually used for something. Do you see how the entire structure is shaped oddly, as if something were meant to sit in the center? When I was a child, in the center of this place was a star.   Not the sort of star you might see outside of Mobius, but a star created here. People like you and me weren’t allowed down here, however. It was a place meant only for Nanos, and they maintained the star dilligently for decades until…”

  “Until what?”

  Smiling, he said, “That’s the question we’re trying to answer. Once the star died, power to Stratum 58 became low. We’ve since been able to siphon power from another source, but who knows how much energy the star was giving off. It’s hard to say how many people have suffered since its absence. So, myself as well as a few other people have been coming down here to see what we can find.”

  The story was a relief for me, as it meant the others detected by Poe were from the same group as Reagor.

  I don’t know what it is, but do not trust this man. Something about him feels off.

  Those words did nothing to stop me, instead only making me angry at the voice in my head.

  “So then, I’ve told you who I am, what about you? Who are you, and what brings a child such as yourself this far from his home?”

  Being a child, as he said, as well as being alone for so long meant that I wasn’t worried about revealing too much. I told him everything; who I was, where I’d come from, Tom, everything leading up to me leaving Stratum 56 for 57. When I finished, Reagor looked me up and down as if he was seeing me for the first time again.

  “May I see the Hellwhip?”

  Don’t give it to him, you fool!

  Annoyed, I handed the weapon to Reagor. Poe threw a fit in my head, but it didn’t take long for Reagor to return the Hellwhip to me.

  “I’ve seen weapons like that before. Usually they’re used by Nanos, though, not people.”

  “That’s what the Poe guy said back on 56. I figure a Nano got scrapped and the weapon got lost in the trash.”

  “Hmm,” Reagor agreed. “In any case, you don’t need to lie to me about its power.”

  Confused, I told him I wasn’t lying at all. He just smiled.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, kid. You don’t need to threaten me with the strength of your weapon. What I will do, however, is try and get you up to Stratum 58 with me. It’s a smaller place, free of Nanos and filled with people. You’ll be safer there than here, especially with that rogue Nano running around here.”

  Frowning, I said, “I thought you saved me from it. It’s still here?”

  Reagor gave me a grave look. “That Nano isn’t quite like the others. It’s strong, but it didn’t fight back when I stole you from it. Who knows where it’s at now, it could even be tracking us still. So come on, let’s get going before it finds us.”

  With that, I began following Reagor up to the top, which was still a long way off from our position.

  Just so you know, I still think he’s lying about something. Don’t put your trust in strangers so easily.

  I didn’t answer him.

  Our pilgrimage to 58 was largely uneventful. Periodically we would stop to either recharge at an NRS or take a chance to sleep and eat where possible. Reagor had only brought enough food for himself, and what he had brought was spartan, so we made do with sharing only little bits and pieces. Both of us, being used to solitude, conducted much of our journey in silence. It’s not as though we didn’t talk at all, but outside of a few banal conversations here and there the talking was limited to what was important exclusively. Even Poe remained quiet—for the most part. His uncertainty regarding Reagor was proven illogical each and every day, causing Poe’s silence to become deafening.

  After perhaps three weeks of travel, we finally made it within a days walk of the top. I was relieved; the absolute loneliness felt in 57 was suffocating, even with the company of Reagor and Poe. And to be honest I doubt that I’d have felt different if we were all talking a lot more. That place just gave off that feeling, like whatever tragedy occurred there was still happening. It was almost painful to continue being there.

  Reagor saw the exit and told me, “It will take a while to get through there since it’s the two of us, but we should be able to make it to the top before we need to sleep again at least.”

  “Why will it take a while?”

  “The process to return to 58 is highly vetted. My admission will be a simple process, but you being a foreigner will find it difficult. I’ll need to make a case for your approval, that might take some time.”

  Frowning, I asked, “Isn’t the situation pretty simple to explain? I’m a lost child who needs a place to stay.”

  Reagor smiled at the innocence of my question. “Surprisingly, you wouldn’t be the first lost child, and you probably won’t be the last. The issue is we’ve had some scares with Nanos using some unknown tech to sneak in.”

  “Sneak in? For what purpose? Are there no Nanos on 58 at all?”

  “I believe I told you that already. We drove the Nanos out a long time ago, all that is left are humans.”

  “A strange thought,” I muttered, though in the absolute silence of 57 I was heard clearly still.

  Reagor nodded. “It may be to you, but it is probably more common than you think. Living with such beings is nearly impossible. I’ve even heard that many of them wish the death of us, that it would be easier for them to continue without the need to support the humans living here.”

  The image of corpses laying in a heap in the waste room back on 56 entered my mind, and I immediately knew that he was correct in his statement.

  “Still, it should be easy enough to convince them that you should be allowed in. We can take good care of you on 58. We have a decent supply of food and water, and with your experience you could become a member of our reconnaissance team and explore this place with me. It would be a simple life, but a stable one. More so than your life is now, I suspect.”

  As I said earlier, I was a naive young child. I had told Reagor all the details of my life, including the mission Poe had given me. Reagor was well aware that I could not accept his offer, as I would most likely not live long to enjoy the stability. So tempting though it was, I had to decline him.

  Smart. Had you not, you would have been killed from the inside. A most painful death, I’d imagine.

  Reagor was unhappy, but he understood. “Your mission is more important, I know. Still, the offer remains on the table for you should you ever wish to join us.”

  Stratum 58’s entrance was unlike that of 57’s. Instead of being a vertical LG shaft of sorts, it was a horizontal shaft with a shuttle. The shuttles between shafts are large, four door affairs with enough seating for about thirty people per car, of which there was typically three. The shuttles leading to 58 were also manned, with someone from the strata itself working as a gatekeeper of sorts. There were also seven others, adding up to all ten of us on in the area. I wondered why the others were staying there, but as if my mind had been read Reagor answered me.

  “They were here studying the debris around the entrance. Their job is typically to retrieve samples and test them back at the laboratory. We’ve found a number of interesting elements, some unknown, some just rare. Only a few people take on my position as it’s seen as more dangerous.”

  The man who presumably was the gatekeeper came towards us and shook hands with Reagor, all while eying me up, assessing me.

  “Reagor,” he said jovially. “Glad to see you’ve returned. Find anything of interest?” He said the last part with special emphasis, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Sighing, Reagor said, “He was being held over a ledge by a Nano. I couldn’t just leave him.”

  Still trying to discern whether I could be trusted, the gatekeeper nodded. “Were you followed?”

  When I realized I was the one being spoken to, I shook my head. “No. As far as we could tell, once I was saved we were alone.”

  “Hmph… Well get in, then. We’ll run some tests and see if you’re fine.”

  I looked to Reagor to see that all was fine, and when he smiled at me I acquiesced and followed the gatekeeper.

  You still have time to run. I suggest doing so now.

  The gatekeeper and I entered the shuttle and he lead me to the second car. This car was unlike the first, being set up as more of a mobile lab facility filled with testing equipment.

  “Sit over here for me.”

  I sat in the spot he indicated, a large seat surrounded by a few computers, a large metallic helmet attached to the top of the chair. The gatekeeper pressed this helmet onto my head and immediately belt loops shut tight on my ankles and wrists. A squeal emitted from my throat.

  “Do not worry, we do this to all those who come to us from afar. This process is known as a vetting. We will hold you there for about two hours. The unit will fill with a number of gasses that will enter your lungs. If those gasses are exhaled from your body as a bright yellow, then you are a threat, but if you exhale a deep blue we will know you are human. The helmet on your head is going to send messages electronically to your brain, and your subconcsious will answer those questions honestly and be displayed on the screens here and here. If at any point one of your answers indicates you are a Nano in disguise, you will be terminated.”

  “Is any of this painful?” I asked, worry apparent in my voice.

  The gatekeeper shrugged. “I’ve heard some of our subjects cry, if that’s what you mean. But you only have to do it once and then everyone around you can feel safe. Just get it over with so you can join us in 58, alright?”

  He then went to a few terminals, entered a few instructions and left the shuttle. Upon the door shutting, the gasses he spoke of began filling the room rapidly, and the helmet began pulsing electricity through me. The pulsations were painful but not unbearably so at first, just waves of static that spread from the top of my head to the tip of my tongue and extremities. Quickly, however, those pulses grew stronger and I grew weaker in my ability to withstand it.

  I told you they couldn’t be trusted. You didn’t listen.

  “Shut up, phantom! You aren’t real!”

  Real or not, the pain you feel certainly is. Perhaps you’d like me to get it to stop?

  I said no with my voice, but I’m sure Poe knew I meant yes.

  Well I’ll take that as a yes. Give me just a moment.

  The screens across from me began changing colors, which at first I thought to be a mere trick of my mind but I quickly realized was the work of Poe. The pulses soon ceased and all that was left was the gas, which I assumed Poe couldn’t stop.

  I can’t stop the gas as far as I can tell. If you want me to try I can, however. It just may take a while.

  “Do what you will, as we both know I can’t stop you.”

  Can’t? Or won’t?

  I didn’t answer.

  Strange.

  “Hmm?”

  The gas you’re exhaling. Didn’t he say that if it were yellow it was bad and if it was blue it was good?

  “Yes, why?”

  Do you not see that it’s green? A mixture of both colors?

  I hadn’t noticed until Poe pointed it out, but it was true. Each time I exhaled I was greeted with green smoke surrounded by the gray fog of the room. I wasn’t sure exactly why it was happening, but I knew that if the gatekeeper saw that he would do what he could to either send me away or kill me. Reagor wouldn’t stand up for me if it was seen that I was truly some sort of Nano, and despite myself knowing the contrary I couldn’t help but wonder if my sole implant was the cause of such an issue.

  I’ll try and stop the gas.

  “No,” I said. “If you do that then they’ll just try and run the test again. It’s clear these people are thorough. It might be better to just see if we can get me out of this chair and send the shuttle to 58 without their permission.”

  Sure, we can try that. But what will you do when you get there? Do you think they will be so welcoming of a Nano fantasying itself a boy?

  “Doubtful, but that’s what the Hellwhip is for.”

  I’m certain Poe laughed then.

  It took no more than a few moments for Poe to override the system and undo my bindings, allowing me freedom of movement once again. After I was sure I was fine, I grabbed my Hellwhip and prepared for the worst, double checking that the setting was to three. Then Poe figured out the system enough to send the shuttle on its way, and soon I was flying toward Stratum 58, and though it was surely impossible I could swear I was hearing the yelling and screaming of those we were leaving behind.

  Serves the fools right for trusting that a lone boy isn’t dangerous unsupervised.

  No more than five minutes passed before the shuttle came to a complete halt. The feeling of it stopping made me nervous, not because of the physical feeling of inertia but from the uncertainty surrounding what was outside of the shuttle.   Based on what I’d already been told, I suspected those living on 58 were going to be harsh, discerning creatures with a severe fear of anything that wasn’t themselves.

  Of course I was right.

  The moment I left the shuttle I was greeted with a number of men in skin suits similar to my own. That was where the similarities ended, however, as their weaponry was barbaric. Instead of using something like my Hellwhip or even something akin to what you’re more aware of, like an A.W. or a Positron Beam Emitter, they wielded makeshift weapons created from the walls of Mobius. In fact, though my search had to be cursory as I was unable to move from my position, it appeared to me that everything about them was barbaric outside of the skin suits they wore and the place which housed them. The whole area was covered in litter of all sorts, mostly remnants of food, and a dull scent invaded my space like old waste, though it was hard for me to tell if it belonged to anyone. Housing was behind those before me, but it seeing details was difficult.

  A woman with gray in her hair and a hardened step came before me, a large metal spear in her hands. She placed the tip at my chin and lifted it so she might see my visage.

  Her lips curled. “Where is our Expedition party?”

  I sighed.

  Should you even try to speak with her? I can already tell she will not fall for some silver-tongued brat’s lies.

  “Shut up,” I said out loud.

  “What was that?” she asked, perturbed.

  “I said they’re shut up, stuck back on 57. Something must have gone wrong with the shuttle. It began operating on its own and brought me here of its own accord. Not the fault of anyone specific, I assure you. I imagine its difficult for a shuttle to function without the regular maintenance by a Nano.”

  The spear vibrated and I felt blood begin to pool where it had nicked me.

  “Either you’re a very foolish boy or a soon to be dead Nano. No being of intelligence would say such a threat to me.”

  “Threat? It was merely an observation!”

  Nothing I could say would matter in the eyes of that woman, however. Her eyes had wandered and seen the Hellwhip, and she must have recognized the technology because it was all she needed to believe I was in fact a Nano. Were I not a scared little boy, I doubt I’d be alive today to speak to you, Dante. My fear was so great that I pulled the trigger.

  The only issue is when you’re scared and untrained you don’t aim very well. Even with my lack of experience I knew that I should aim for the chest or the head of a human being if I wanted them dead, and I merely wanted to incapacitate. My lack of experience with the Hellwhip meant much for this poor woman. Level three is just good enough for Nanos, Dante. It destroys them with little damage to Mobius, and it will usually hit a Nano behind it. For a being of flesh and blood? Level three decimates them. It doesn’t remove the flesh, or even kill it. It deletes it. It makes it so that whatever once was there never was there at all. There’s no blood or gore with the Hellwhip, only evisceration.

You can, I suppose, imagine that if I was to aim only at the legs what would happen then.

  The woman who once stood looking down on me was suddenly on stumps, blood not pouring out due to the quick cauterization. Her screams pierced my very being. Everyone there stopped, unable to move from the shock of it all. No one had expected it. Everyone feared it.

  Even me.

  Well don’t just stand there! Either finish them all off or start running!

  Poe didn’t need to tell me twice. My legs began moving too fast and I nearly slipped and fell. The only reason I was able to escape those angry men was because they didn’t wield true weapons like my Hellwhip, they only used the ancient tools of barbaric man, something long forgotten on that old rock we used to call home.

  I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say I couldn’t run forever. I passed through their makeshift town, ran past the locals, pulled myself free from a few men who tried to stop me, but eventually I just couldn’t do it anymore. I had to stop.

  I had to face my enemies as the brigand I was.

  “Get that bastard before he shoots again!” one of them yelled. The Hellwhip shook in my hands.

  What are you waiting for? Shoot them already so we can get out of here!

  Poe was right, of course. They weren’t going to take it easy on me. They wouldn’t stop at the sight of my blood, my organs, or my very human-like death. They would kill me and feel justified. Hell, they would have been after what I did to their leader.

  That trigger was just too heavy for me.

  Pull it, or I’ll do it for you.

  I gasped, unsure if he was bluffing. Poe could do many things. Could he take over my body?

  I’m still unsure if that’s possible. Maybe he told me that so I could blame him for what I’d do later. Better that his host can sleep at night and function, right?

  Leaving it set to level three, I deleted everyone who stood before me, and before I could recover Poe had me on the run, a fugitive in a foreign strata, a lonely child with no place to go but up.

  Dante and Captain Pluto sat in silence for some time before Dante decided the session was over, clicking the recording device off and gathering up his things to go all the while Pluto sat stone cold, his hands shaking, his eyes like diamonds catching every light the wrong way. Dante hesitated; though it was difficult to believe all the things Pluto said, he was keenly aware of his fate and knew, at the very least, that he was a troubled man, an interesting man. A man with a story.

  As silently as he could, he clicked the recording device back on and thought of provocative questions.

  “Do you believe that you deserve forgiveness for your actions? After all, you reveal that after attacking that woman, you knew what would happen to those you attacked after.”

  Pluto remained silent save for the sound of his own vibrations.

  “When will you reveal the actual locations for this story? We both know you couldn’t have come here from 58, let alone 56.”

  Pluto continued staring off, eyes only blinking when necessary.

  “Yesterday you said something about how I didn’t recognize your clothing. While this is true, it is also true that no one here would recognize the clothing of someone from Stratum 990, a place much closer to us than your stated origins.   It’s also most likely true that you acquired clothing between your origin and here, especially if we were to assume your claims to be true. So what were you trying to get at? Is there something special about your current manner of dress? Is it special compared to my own?”

  Dante flirted with the idea of ceasing the recording. After all, this style of recording was against the rules. He wouldn’t be in trouble, but he couldn’t file this even if Pluto decided to answer him. The story had to be his own without the influence of the recorder.

  Seeing as Pluto hadn’t answered, Dante began to wonder if he needed to call for the medical team. “Are you okay?” he asked finally, snapping fingers in front of Pluto’s eyes and getting no response. Annoyed, Dante fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his PCD and pressed nine. “Room 5299 requires assistance. Subject is unresponsive to outside stimuli. Could be dangerous. Wanted for ten counts of murder and a whole slew of lesser crimes. Come soon.”

  A response floated through the PCD and Dante pocketed it once more, ready to leave. A piece of him knew this might be his only chance to say what he wanted, however, since there was only five more days of recording left.

  “Why lie to me? You realize you’ve only got a little time left before you’re cooked, carted off and your ashes are cast out floating into space. Why bother with this whole charade? Why falsify everything down to the fake weapon? For what purpose do you—”

  “ShUt uP!” Pluto choked, his voice sounding distant and dry. “SHUt UppP! Get out get out getoutoutOUT!”

  Dante backed up and ran out the door, down the hall, running as fast and far as his weak legs would take him. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he was sure that sleep would come to him slowly that night.