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| The Return 8. At the Obelisk: Of manbots, crystals and Griffons |
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H. T. and Sledge had both departed the Left Nut quickly and with purpose. Luke wasn’t sure where or why, but he had little time to think about it. With few words, Jackov quickly closed up Compartment Three and steered Luke toward an adjacent compartment. This one, Compartment Two, opened easily to Jackov’s command; and he headed to the left toward another small command center, basically a miniature of the huge Compartment Three. Next to it was an array of what looked like living facilities, one of which included a food transmogrifier. But it was the right and back walls, rising open 20 feet floor-to-ceiling, that caught Luke’s eye. As Luke and Jackov entered the compartment, the two walls lit up to reveal a seamless holographic image of a magnificent countryside. Luke felt like he was stepping outside.
“Luke!” Jackov barked, breaking Luke out of his wide-eyed awe. “Need to send another message.” Luke dutifully complied. He sat down at a communications panel and typed in the words as Jackov dictated. This time he was sending to a guy named Magnus the Magnificent. Hmmph, Luke thought. More huge egos. It was the same enigmatic message Luke had read on the wall weeks before:
From: Alexi Jackov
Location: *****
To: The Honorable Magnus the Magnificent
Fear of the gods is the beginning of wisdom.
All actors, called to the scene,
don their masks
and hide their flaming cheeks.
It is time.
4 6 8 12 20
4 8 6 20 12
Contact me.
Jackov
“You don’t say where you’re at,” observed Luke.
“That’s OK. He’ll know.”
So Luke pressed the “send” key.
Job done, Jackov now ignored Luke. He found a chair and turned it to face the holograph. He then just sat there unmoving, thinking.
Luke looked at him bewildered for a moment, then realized he was hungry. He went to the transmogrifier and prepared his favorite: pickled land toad. Its pungent aroma slowly overwhelmed the oily staleness of the compartment’s ancient air. Plate in hand, Luke grabbed a light chair and went to sit next to Jackov. Jackov remained silent and unmoved.
After a moment, Luke attempted conversation. “Mr. Jackov,” Luke began.
“Alexi.”
“OK, Alexi. You have me involved now in all of this, but I don’t yet understand what this is.” Luke stopped. There was no emotion in his implied question, and he knew Jackov would speak when he was ready. Jackov at first didn’t answer.
“You’re right,” Jackov said finally. He got up and walked to the holograph, studying its details. The image was sharp and clear, as though one could step into it as an alternate reality. A large, verdant expanse of rolling hills and fields, dotted with forests here and there, reached to a distant horizon and opened to a blue sky splattered with white puffy clouds. For Luke, its warm yellow-blue lighting stood in sharp contrast to the reddish-orange sky of iron-rich Belli. It reminded him of his home on Teutonica.
“This image is of my ancient family lands on Ötard,” Jackov mused. “As they were when I was last there, centuries ago. It is taken and recorded through projections from my memory.” He smiled to himself: “It has probably changed a bit since.” The image also was animated, and in the distance Luke could see a herd of gazelles bounding through a field. Jackov fixated on their movement. After a moment he added simply. “Ask your questions.”
Luke did not intend to blurt this particular question first; but it was on his mind, and it was asked: “Why aren’t you dead?”
Jackov laughed out loud at that. His answer came laced with amusement: “We are a proud species, we humans. A thousand years ago we developed the capacity to store our consciousness, our essential essence if you will, within machines. The process could be sustained and repeated virtually indefinitely. We called it ‘manbotting.’ Are you familiar with this from your history?”
“Not much. It was only mentioned in your biography.”
Jackov turned to look at Luke, surprised that he had read it. “Ah,” he said. “Very good.” He turned back toward the holograph, then continued. “Manbotting, though, was extremely expensive. And aside from affording it, most people found they simply didn’t want to ‘live forever,’ as it were.” Jackov made a “quotes” motion with his fingers. “In the end there were only six of us who continued with the procedure.”
“Six?”
“Yes. Myself; H. T., whom you’ve met; Magnus, the one you and I just sent the message to; Argyle of the Emerald Star; and Gregory and Short, whom I believe are somewhere around my old haunts in the 12th Quadrant now. We were all successful commanders and mercenaries in our day. And we all succumbed in varying degrees to those magnificent vices of ambition, hubris, avarice and lechery. We made great names for ourselves and became extremely, even obscenely, wealthy. And none of us wanted it to end. Manbotting was our solution: just replace the corpus and we become immortal. Quite logical when you think about it.” Jackov smiled.
“And here you are.”
“Yes. Here we are.”
The communications panel beeped loudly, startling Luke. Jackov motioned, and Luke headed over to retrieve it. “Read it,” Jackov ordered. Luke did so:
From: Magnus the Magnificent
Location: The warm and comforting armpit of Mordock's Queen
“What the hell,” said Luke. “Armpits?” he asked. Jackov smiled as Luke continued.
To: the Most Esteemed and Honorable Alexi Jackov
And it is good that the truly wise ones fear us.
I have donned my mask, for the Queen has truly inflamed my many parts,
Yet it is time to go forth and play my role once again.
(But, just what the hell do the numbers mean?)
I am on my way.
Magnus
