Chapter 16 Quoth the Raven “Nevermore” Part 3
“And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;” - Oh damn did he fuck cats as well?
“Greetings.”
Aiden has seen videos of crows talking before, different from parrots, their voices were deeper, lending a more… human sound to them. This one was no different. It had an accent to it, but one he couldn’t place with any human language.
“You are aware and conscious?”
“It depends on how you define consciousness,” it evenly replied, its beak moving as it spoke.
He raised an eyebrow, barely a minute after its birth and it was already philosophizing.
“What information do you have of your surroundings and existence?” he asked.
“I know you created me, the general situation of the world, and have knowledge of a myriad of creatures, which I suspect you will find useful.”
Aiden frowned, “What is the name of the venomous jellyfish known to cause a feeling of impending doom?”
“Irukandji jellyfish, it is the smallest known species of jellyfish at an adult size of about one cubic centimetre, it inhabits the northern marine waters of Australia.”
“What is the terrestrial bird endemic to Africa that hunts through high powered kicks?”
“Secretary Bird or Sagittarius serpentarius, they are capable of flight, but usually only reserve it to escape predators by flying into nearby trees.”
“Crustacean that has twelve to sixteen photoreceptors and can strike rapidly with their claws?”
“Mantis Shrimp, they are sometimes referred to as ‘Thumb Splitters’ due to their ability to inflict painful wounds.”
“The bug that wears its victims as armour?”
“Assassin Bug, as nymphs some species use the corpses of ants to camouflage themselves within the colony.”
“Only living relative of the giraffe?”
“Okapi.”
“The antelope with the weird nose?”
“Saiga Antelope.”
He switched tactics, “Main limitation of the Ogre Faced Spider?”
“Its eyes are so sensitive that every day the photosensitive portion is destroyed by the sun and they are forced to regrow it every evening.”
“What do koalas feed their young?”
“Their own faeces, it is to pass on vital gut bacteria as the young koala would not be able to digest eucalyptus.”
“When does Black Mold release its spores?”
“When it is mechanically disturbed, particularly when they are wet. It makes them difficult to remove completely and they are frequently found in human habitation because you produce the ideal environment for them.”
“How does a cuttlefishes' colour camouflage work?”
“Through the contraction of muscles around chromatophores, sacs of either brown, red or yellow pigment. Through muscle contraction, it ‘releases’ the pigment to adapt to its surroundings.”
“And what of chameleon camouflage?”
“Ah, a common misconception you threw out,” it seemed to smugly reply. “Chameleons mainly change colour to regulate temperature and to communicate, not to camouflage. They change colour using guanine crystals located under a superficial layer of pigmented skin. Colour change is achieved by changing the space between guanine crystals which changes the wavelength of light reflecting off of it.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured. “You’re the real deal.”
It was a bonus that he didn’t have to teach it from the ground up, but the fact that it had information from its birth was…
“This confirms another aspect of your power does it not?” it asked.
Aiden narrowed his eyes, “Elaborate.” He had an idea of what it was talking about, but he needed to hear it from its own beak.
“When passing on a singular concept, you also pass on all associated sub-concepts with it. A rabbit will still hop even if you did not give it ‘hop’, a wolf will still hunt even if you do not give it ‘hunt’, and ‘intelligent’...”
“Will grant the associated biases I had with the meaning of intelligent.”
Looking at the dictionary definition, ‘having or showing intelligence, especially of a high level,’ which itself led to the definition of intelligence, ‘the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.’ It became obvious that this didn’t fit with the knowledge the crow was displaying.
“At the very least, you likely considered ‘intelligent’ to be at least as smart or smarter than you are.”
“Since I would see anyone more capable than I am as intelligent,” he agreed. “So at the very least, they need to know the things I do or something different at a sufficiently impressive level.”
The crow shuffled its legs, “Which brings us to a fascinating conundrum, I do not believe I possess knowledge or information which you do not.”
Aiden quirked his eyebrow as it continued, “Though I do not know the source of how my knowledge came to be, I believe there are only overlaps with your knowledge, not more, but perhaps even less.”
Aiden bit his thumb, “We would have to confirm it over testing each other’s knowledge.”
“Indeed, however that it is not the question I was thinking of.” The crow stared directly at him, its beady eyes somehow still shining in the low light despite being made of paper. “If your concept of intelligence was to be at least smarter than yourself, how do you create a being with only the information you had, yet is more intelligent than you are?”
He narrowed his eyes, “We don’t know if my concept of intelligence was ‘capable’ or ‘smarter than me’ yet.” Aiden suspected that if he created another being with ‘Intelligent’, it would not be the same as the crow before him. Since the concept of ‘Intelligent’ he used for the crow was the result of a lifetime of bias and definition, whereas now it would just be the result of his brief interactions with the crow and the dictionary definition.
“There is a way,” it cautiously began, “you reabsorb me, relearn what your biases towards ‘Intelligent’ is, and you note it down.”
“But you don’t want to do that?” Aiden asked, noting its hesitation.
“There is an unknown with your power,” the crow replied, “if you reabsorb a creature then remake it, are you making the same creature or are you making a copy of it? Or something completely new with the same concepts?”
He blinked, surprise from two different sources marring his mind, half from realising he never thought of that question, half from realising what asking that implied. “Are you fearful of your death?”
“Anyone who doesn’t is a fool,” it evenly replied, it quirked its head, “though I suppose it would make me a fool as well, for I believe I would embrace it if it meant benefiting you.”
It was a quiet declaration, yet one filled with conviction and certainty. There it was, the second concept he had put in, Loyal. Aiden wondered if he truly understood what it meant at this moment, there are some things that a dictionary could not communicate, some things which ink on a page cannot truly describe. And Aiden’s mind went to a Dire Wolf, who faced with death overcame fear to stand beside him again.
What was intelligence?
What was loyalty?
He could learn what he meant it was, but it would mean potentially sacrificing a sapient being. Perhaps it was simply a mindless construct, acting out the motions of life, but he did not know that. It was simply a possibility, an assumption and guess.
Not something worth wagering another life on.
“I won’t do that,” he murmured, for the crow was uncomfortable with the idea, and it trusted and helped him.
That should be reciprocated, no matter what.
Something flickered across the crow’s black and beady eyes, something too fast to catch.
Aiden crossed his arms, “Though that would bring up something annoying. It means the first concept I put in anything would be ‘full’ concept…”
“... and without reclaiming it, everything past that would just be a copy, lest you spend a long time relearning what it truly meant,” the crow finished for him.
“So essentially, I can never create two things which are truly the same,” he murmured. That was annoying to say the least, even disregarding the cost to him, not being able to create two products that were the same put away the idea of mass-producing animates, “so naturally I’ll have to focus on individual quality.”
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The crow puffed up its breast, “Fortunately for you, I happen to be of excellent quality. Without a doubt a prime specimen.”
“Let us test it then,” he said as he stood up. Offering his right arm as a perch, which the crow eagerly hopped onto. Oros regarded it with quiet curiosity, though it still seemed lazy and lethargic, only nodding in greetings as the crow nodded back.
“One last thing before we depart,” the crow said, “I want a name.”
“Hmm…” he pondered it for some time, before he spoke up, “I know there was an author called Edgar Allen Poe who wrote a poem about ravens.” He glanced over it, “I never read it, and you aren’t a raven, so how about I name you instead over Edogawa Ranpo? The pen name of a Japanese author who admired him.”
It quirked its head at him, thinking about it for but a moment. “Without a doubt that is the worst name I have ever heard. Do you mean to imply I am a two-bit copy of a raven? And to have named a snake Oros because it bites its tail...” it shook its head, “truly I am unfortunate to have a creator with such poor naming sense.”
“By all accounts, Edogawa was an established author in his own right,” Aiden retorted.
“And yet you’ve never read the works of Tarō Hirai, only holding minor trivia of his life,” it sighed, “I suppose I’ll just have to accept it, at least I’m not named something stupid like Aiden.”
“What’s wrong with Aiden?” he asked with a bit more force than he intended. It wasn’t anything exemplary, but as a name to call someone it was completely fine. “And of course its the worst name you’ve ever heard, it’s the only name you’ve ever heard.”
“I’ve now heard two, and I can say with confidence Aiden is the lesser name,” it declared.
“So the name I gave you isn’t that bad huh?”
“Relativity does not make quality…”
And they continued to bicker as Aiden dressed up for the day.
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Dressing up, he left the apartment, his body too tense to stay in one place. His breath misted into cold puffs as he drew his jacket closer. It was entirely too cold for sensible people to be out, but he was almost murdered by choking for the- the second time in the last few hours?
‘Jesus Christ.’ Sensibility did not allow for surprises, and he’s had plenty of those recently. No matter how much he refused to show it on his face.
So he stepped down, walking as quietly as he could down the stairs. Ranpo fluttering off his shoulder and into the outer world. Meeting him below at the parking lot.
“You have my knowledge of creatures, so it makes things easier,” he told the waiting crow.
“Because of Bleed isn’t it?” Ranpo asked, already divining his purpose for it.
“Yes,” he answered. He needed a way to reliably remember the things he created, paper and notes worked fine in a controlled setting, but in the midst of a battle, he had to rely on others. Something like a digital recorder can’t be expected to work reliably inside or near a Gate, every time they entered one, they had to leave behind their phones and other digital devices. Whilst Imbuing could overcome that limitation, he did not yet know how to do it. So he made a speaking creature, capable of memorising the words he spoke when he created another. The fact that it already had a deep knowledge of those things was a welcomed bonus.
“I’ll wander around a bit, stretch my legs,” he said, “act on your own judgement during then.”
“It’ll be a novel experience to see the earth from the sky for the first time,” Ranpo answered with a flutter of his wings before he took off, soon becoming a small dot in the sky.
He was still near him, so Aiden assumed he would be following him for the walk. A safe play, one that did not discount the potential dangers of this world, both known and unknown.
Aiden began his walk ordinarily enough. Simply wandering around his local area, as he walked, he felt a deep sense of nostalgia, yet one that was tainted. His home address was the same yet the apartment was for a family rather than just two people. Some stores he remembered as still being open were closed or gone. The park bordering their home was desolate, the only greenery being the sparse stubborn weeds and grasses that broke through the hard dirt and concrete. Next to it was a river, and as he walked beside it, he noted it looked similar enough, even slightly clearer, but past it, on the other bank, where there were once active factories there was only an abandoned warehouse district, devoid of all life after a particularly bad Gate.
The world here had parallels to his own, but it was not his own world. And though he held no deep sense of attachment he still felt a lingering sense of loss as he wandered. The life Aiden Lu once led was gone, instead, he was piloting the body of a boy who shared his name but perished in foolishness and mediocrity.
He pulled his coat closer, shrinking slightly into himself as the cold seemed to seep in. It burned away the last remnants of sleep from his mind.
The life he had now had opportunity, chances, possibilities. He had the benefit of experience and Jaiden was still alive. It was a redo, one that he was undeserving of, yet he would grasp with all his might.
Aiden paused as he passed a bridge, going over the river and to the other side. Eyes narrowing as he took a step back and stood before the bridge, seeing the faded red tape that blockaded the other side.
He raised an arm, waving at Ranpo, the crow getting his message and flying down, landing next to him on the railing.
“Do you sense that?”
Ranpo shook his head, “No, but I suspect you do.”
Indeed, there was a feeling of uneasiness in the air, of something not being quite right. He recognised it, for it once left him still in terror and shock. “I’m sensing Bleed in this area.”
It wasn’t strong or dense, where the Bleed he felt during a Gate was like standing in the midst of a rave, this was naught but a whisper of a whisper.
But he still felt it.
“It could just be the leftovers from the last Gate,” he murmured. Like radiation, Bleed did not truly disappear, they dispersed over time, becoming weaker and less pronounced as local reality took precedent, but they still lingered, staying in the area for days to even centuries. That was why shutting a Gate as quickly as possible was so important.
He felt his pocket for his phone, feeling the weight that was both familiar and unfamiliar. “Watch from the sky, I’m going to investigate.”
Ranpo nodded as he moved forward. The tape was no obstacle, he passed it easily, feeling a slight bit of remorse at breaking the law, but few people checked this area, and he had only good intentions.
He hoped it was nothing, that he was merely being paranoid, but as he walked the quiet and eerie streets of a district once roaring with the life of machinery and people, he could only feel that feeling strengthen. From a whisper of a whisper to simply a whisper. Until it was no longer a feeling, but a palpable sense of unease as he finally stood in front of the hanging doors of an abandoned warehouse.
“Got anything Ranpoe?” he asked as he heard the flapping wings return.
The crow shook its head.
“Let’s hope it’s nothing then,” he said as he stepped into the darkness.
“Cat Eyes,” he murmured, low enough only Ranpo heard it. His steps disturbed decades-old dust as he surveyed the area around him. The warehouse was dug in, going a few stories below into the ground, he stood now on a metal walkway ringing the edges, the railings rusty from age. There were some rotting wooden crates here, both beside and underneath him, giving the area a scent of decay and… he adjusted his glasses as he looked toward the floor. There were footprints here, fresh within the dust, they were small, almost like that of a child’s-
The bullet slammed into his forehead, knocking him back, he briefly lost balance, Ranpo fluttering off his shoulder in panic before Aiden reasserted himself. A vile and high pitched laugh sounded throughout the emptiness of the building and Aiden caught sight of a gaunt and childlike figure standing atop a pile of crates before he jumped behind his own. More bullets pinging the floor where he once stood.
Blood flowed from his wound, reddening his vision in his left eye, but the bullet did not pierce his skull, he saw it on the ground beside him, bent and broken, along with the other bullets that ricocheted and bounced off the metal flooring, leaving slight dents, but the bullets didn’t fly with any more force than a thrown rock.
He didn’t protect his skin, yet the bullet still failed to pierce his skull, he saw a gaunt and childlike figure, and while he couldn’t see colour in the darkness, he would bet that the figure had green skin.
Bu knew about goblins, and it was his memories Lu was using as a reference at this moment. The fact the bullet didn’t break bone meant there were at most one or two goblins. It took around five for them to have dangerous weaponry, and a dozen for their bullets to be lethal to normal humans.
And most of all, they did not have subtlety. The goblin was still firing wildly in his general direction, bullets bounced all around him, but it wasn’t able to see in the dark, and it revealed its own location.
Ranpo disappeared somewhere, likely hiding out in higher ground and using his own colour to blend into the darkness, he would have to do this alone.
With a thought, his skin was covered entirely in tattoos, save for the wrist which held Oros. Scales and shells of a dozen different animals covering his body, he leapt out of cover. Gunfire followed his movement, banging into his body painfully like thrown rocks, but they didn’t pierce his skin this time.
Rushing forward, he turned the corner and stood directly before the goblin firing at him. The fiery tongues from its weapon the only light in the darkness. He ran forward, arms held in guard to protect his eyes as more bullets slammed into him. Rushing past long rotting crates and kicking them aside.
Then there was a flutter of wings, a string of curses from the goblin as Ranpo flew in, pecking at the thing’s face, letting off the fire for a brief moment.
He reached it then, the haphazardly stacked pile of crates which the goblin stood on. He kicked it down, all the crates hollow and empty, the tower falling like a sandcastle as the goblin yelped. With a crash of wood and flesh, the tower fell, Aiden held his breath as a plume of dust was thrown into the air.
Grabbing onto the pole-like railing beside him, he thought of two things, Boa Constrictor and Obey. The metal railing coiled to life, hissing and falling onto the floor as it came free of its rusty attachments.
“Attack the goblin,” he said.
It hissed, sliding into the debris with dexterity afforded only by its shape, while Aiden was still trying to traverse the pile of rubble.
He heard a final yelp, a curse in the goblin language before it was silenced. Finally getting past the pile of shattered crates, he found the snake wrapped around the goblin, its fangs sunk deeply into its body as it coiled tighter around it.
Ranpo flapped down, landing on a piece of wood still sticking up.
“Anymore around?” Aiden asked.
“I can’t see in the dark you dolt,” Ranpo replied, looking at him as if he were an idiot.
“My bad,” he murmured as he looked around. He doubted there were more goblins around, its weapons were too weak, and others would’ve attacked by now. They were not a smart race when few in number, driven mostly by impulse and whim.
He knelt down, grabbing the ‘gun’ that the goblin was using. It appeared little more than a box with a trigger, with a muzzle that was clearly from a PVC pipe. Rattling it around, he could hear some things bouncing around in its metal body.
He pointed it forward, his one hand holding onto its small grip, and he pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
He tsked as he shook the weapon. The goblin had long since ceased struggling, the snake was in the midst of swallowing the body. Did his creations need food? He wouldn’t be surprised but it would certainly be odd.
“What is that snake?” he asked Ranpo.
It pondered for a moment, “I would guess a Boa Constrictor.”
He knelt down, absorbing the snake, “Correct.”
“C’mon,” he said. The goblin was dead, but he still felt it, the sense of unease, permeating this warehouse.
“Indeed,” Ranpo replied, “I can still smell it.”
“The smell of rotting flesh.”
He found a ladder down, the feeling of unease from his senses mixed with that of his own. He pulled away crates as he followed that sense, catching onto it like a bloodhound.
Until he rounded a corner and saw it.
A person, nude and strung up on a wall, her chest was ripped open, her heart lay on the side as her ribs were splayed out like wings behind her. Piercing her flesh were numerous crudely fashioned needles and tubes, pumping softly glowing green liquid into her. If he could see colour in the dark, he would’ve seen the discoloured rot that was in the desiccated corpses.
“So it was trying to make a hobgoblin,” he murmured.
He glanced at the small weapon in his hands, throwing it towards the wall, it slammed open, revealing that the box that made the gun’s body was completely empty, with only a few bits of metal and screws inside.
Goblins were a race of Contrivers. They mimicked human technology with crudely made contraptions that worked only because enough of them believed they worked. Enough goblins in the same area will cause greater effect, as such, their danger rose exponentially with number.
Hobgoblins were the next stage of a goblin infestation, made from altered humanoid bodies, they did not have any contriving ability, instead, possessing great physical power and higher cunning. Goblins would begin kidnapping people to transform into hobgoblins whenever possible, but only when an infestation reached at least twenty in number would a hobgoblin be successfully created.
So this woman was dead no matter what, for that goblin was alone and had no chance of success.
“How very annoying,” Aiden murmured as he reached for his phone. He dialled the emergency number, “Hello, I’d like to report a dead goblin.”