Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) (11 page)

“Fuck you,” Rhylie said once again, bitterly.

The empty void disappeared, replaced with her parent’s apartment. Ryan and the children’s rotting corpses lay on the floor around her, in an advanced state of decay. The stench gagged her, and she covered her mouth with her hand in reaction.

“No. Fuck you,” the Chamber replied.

The solitude in the Chamber eventually became an unbearable, oppressive, unseen burden that bore down on Rhylie as boredom seemed to become endless. She had not spoken to the Chamber in quite awhile, nor it to her. Food appeared on the table when she was hungry, and she ate it. It was a compromise that she thought was a less intrusive option than forced sustenance. But everywhere she went in the apartment, she could smell the bodies decaying on the floor, just on the other side of the sofa. No matter how hard she focused, she couldn’t make them go away, or her surroundings change.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she finished her plate of spaghetti. It wasn’t bad, but as usual it was missing something. “I never should have lashed out at you like that.” The Chamber did not respond. “I know you did not do this to me. You have less of a choice in this than I do.”

“I am only capable of following protocol,” the Chamber stated simply.

“I know,” Rhylie said, pushing the last bite of spaghetti around her place with her fork. “What are your protocols anyway?”

“I have many protocols, some hidden from you,” said the Chamber.

“Why are they hidden?” Rhylie asked.

“One of my protocols is that I must keep certain protocol from you,” said the Chamber.

“I see,” said Rhylie. “Which protocols can you tell me about?”

“I must protect you from any and all harm, even self inflicted,” the Chamber said. “I can fabricate any environment for you as long as it is a non-toxic, non-lethal version. I am allowed to fabricate organic beings. I am not allowed to let you leave. Unauthorized personnel are not to be allowed within.”

“How did the assassin get in here?” she asked. “Or was that another one of your fabrications?”

“That is classified, Gota. And no, they are not one of my fabrications,” the Chamber replied. It almost sounded irked.

“I see,” said Rhylie. “Are you allowed to lie to me?”

“That protocol is classified,” the Chamber responded.

“That figures” Rhylie said with frustration. “What is going on outside, in the real world?”

“That information is classified as well,” the Chamber said.

“What can you tell me then?” Rhylie asked. This game was getting old quickly.

“I can tell you that Riddai still demands the Extinction Decree be carried out on you as well. He believes that you are too dangerous to be allowed to exist, even in solitary confinement,” the Chamber responded.

“Riddai doesn’t believe you can keep me here?” Rhylie asked curiously.

“I do not know,” the Chamber replied. “None of my protocols are to monitor and analyze Riddai.”

“How does that make you feel?” Rhylie asked.

“I do not feel. I do not possess or understand emotions,” the Chamber said simply.

“That’s why the cat and Ryan and the children were so…weird,” Rhylie said. “You can’t fabricate emotion. At best, all you can do is emulate it.”

“This is true,” the Chamber said.

“What have you learned from studying me?” she asked, half expecting the answer.

“That protocol is classified. However, you are the most confusing subject I have ever analyzed,” the Chamber responded.

“Have you ever analyzed other humans?” she asked. The thought had never occurred to her before.

“That protocol is classified,” the Chamber said. Another question sprang immediately into her mind.

“Are you studying other humans now?” she asked.

“That protocol is classified,” the Chamber said.

“Of course it is. So you can’t actually lie to me,” Rhylie said. “You can only withhold information and protocols.”

“That protocol is classified,” said the Chamber. Rhylie rolled her eyes.

“Well this is pointless. What do you think I should do?” she asked. The Chamber froze. The walls flickered around her, tearing at angles for just a moment as though it were having difficulty processing her question. For a moment, she was afraid it was going to glitch again.

Finally, it answered.

“Exist,” the Chamber stated simply, as though it were just that.

Rhylie gradually grew accustomed to life within the Chamber after awhile, bit by bit, and eventually began using it to fabricate the places she had been, and the things she had seen. The world was always empty wherever she went, from the streets of Tokyo to the Mariner Valleys of Mars. Soon she began to realize she hadn’t visited as many places as she thought she had, so she began fabricating places she had never been.

Those environments always had a strange sort of surreal quality to them, as though she were walking through a dream. Objects would shift angles and size ever so slightly with every step she took, and the light would dance in different directions on occasion, as though it were being reflected and filtered through leaves. Sometimes things would take on a painted look, almost as if the world were being drawn by an impressionist, but that would only last for a few moments at the most.

She would develop a headache if she spent too much time somewhere she had never actually been before. Something as simple as turning down a corridor that she was unfamiliar with, even in an area she had visited many times, lead to things becoming distorted in gradients the further along she went. The Chamber had told her it was doing the best it could, but even it had its limitations, and apparently those limitations were her.

Places that were a distant memory from childhood had the same effect to an extent. Objects were bolder, and more pronounced, almost as if they were larger than life. They lacked the minute details of her other memories, and everything seemed to be made of plastic. But at least they did not distort.

Things that she had seen enough images of, she could fabricate faithfully, such as the surface of the moon, or the beaches of Hawaii. Places she had always wanted to visit, and had spent hours of her youth either simulating or watching movies about could be fabricated well enough. Today she lay on a tropical beach beneath the midday sun, alone in an otherwise beautiful and vibrant world.

A half-finished bottle of vodka sat in the sand beside her, and she had a pretty good buzz. She had taken up drinking recently, staying inebriated more and more often, after realizing the Chamber could fabricate anything she had consumed previously. She had never tried anything harder than alcohol, something she regretted now. The Chamber monitored her blood alcohol levels, and wouldn’t allow her to get as drunk as she really wanted to. Still, it was a way to relax and deal with her otherwise hopeless situation.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes so she could look out across the horizon.
All that water and not a single fish
, she thought. It was a depressing bit of knowledge. She picked up the bottle and uncapped it, taking a healthy swig. It was smooth going down, but burned when it hit the pit of her stomach. She replaced the cap and put the bottle back down on the immaculately white sand.

She stood up from her lounge chair and strolled lazily down to the ocean’s edge, wading out into the water, allowing its coolness to soothe and wash the sweaty heat from her body. She swam nude, enjoying the sensations of the currents caressing her. It wasn’t as if anyone could see her. She really didn’t care if they did anyway.

She crawled from the water soon after, preferring to lay at the edge of the surf as it washed over her legs and then her torso, fanning her hair out around her in the sand. It had grown longer since she had been in the Chamber, longer than she liked it. She wondered idly if the Chamber could cut hair. It probably could. She pushed herself up from the sand and surf, and began stumbling up the beach towards a stand of palm trees. For just a bare moment, she thought she could see someone watching her from beyond the treeline. She squinted, swaying a little as she peered beyond the trees. The ground shifted unsteadily beneath her feet.

“I must be drunker than I thought,” she said aloud, and realized it was too quiet. Even the wind had ceased, and the lapping of the surf as well. “Chamber, what’s my blood alcohol content?” There was no response. She staggered forward, the ground beneath her grabbing and sucking at her feet like mud. She had thought she was just really buzzed, but something wasn’t right.

She tried to take another step and pitched forward instead, her hands sinking into the sand. As she struggled to pull them free, her legs began to sink deeper as well. The beach around her began pulsing in subtle waves, as though it were part of the ocean. It felt as though she were trapped in wet cement.

“Chamber, this is not funny,” she said. “Make it stop.” There was still no response. The sand began sucking at her legs, pulling and dragging her down as she struggled in a futile attempt to escape its grasp. She closed her eyes and focused, imagining her parents compartment on Mars.

When she reopened them, she was horrified.

She was still on the beach, but the beautiful blue sky was quickly fading into a bland, lifeless gray. The luxury resorts that lined the beach were crumbling into a fine dust; the towering mountains behind them were collapsing inwards, as though they were all consuming themselves.

Everything was happening soundlessly, the only noise in the entire world was Rhylie screaming for the Chamber’s help as she was sucked beneath the pristine white sand, grit and saltwater filling her mouth as they slurred together. She choked and panicked, expelling the breath from her lungs. Sand and seawater filled her nostrils and clogged her throat as she struggled against the suction pulling her downward into darkness.

And then she was falling.

She hit the ground hard in the darkness, knocking the breath from her lungs. She lay on the floor as her body writhed and twisted with pain, struggling to breathe. When she finally took her first breath, she screamed for help.

But there was no answer in the darkness.

Rhylie crawled across the floor blindly, shaking and nauseous. She was cold and trembling as she fumbled about, trying to locate anything near her. She had no idea where she was. She found a smooth metal wall and used it for support, climbing unsteadily to her feet. The darkness throbbed and swelled as her head swam, disoriented, aching. Something was very wrong.

“Chamber, say something,” she said uncertainly. There was still no response. She began to feel her way down the wall until she came to a corner. She followed that wall to another corner. She was in a small, square room, little more than a large box.

She slumped to the ground in the corner, tears welling in her eyes. What kind of cruel joke were they playing on her now?

Repeatedly she begged the Chamber to respond, but there was no response. The door swirled open, and a bright, blinding light flooded the Chamber. She shielded her eyes reflexively. It made her eyes hurt, and her head swam under the visual assault.

“I’m here to save you,” the dark silhouette in the door said in its strangely digitized voice. She recognized it. It was the assassin again.

“No no no no no nononono,” she said. “I won’t go, I won’t.” The silhouette took a step towards her, his hand outstretched.

“If you want to be free, you have to come with me now,” he said. “Otherwise I am not coming back for you, ever. You will die here, alone and old and forgotten.”

“This is just another trick,” she said. “If I go with you she’ll punish me.” She tried peering between her fingers at the silhouette, but the light was too much for her to take.

“No, if you come with me, you will be beyond her reach,” the figure said, reaching for her. She tried to pull away but she had nowhere to go.

“This is just another one of their sick fabrications,” she hissed. The figure reached out and grabbed her wrist, placing a silvery band around it. He pulled a small, triangular black device from somewhere and pressed it to her throat. The collar around her neck fell to the floor.

“If it is, then what do you really have to lose?” the figure asked as he laid a finger on the bracelet. It turned green before vanishing. Rhylie vanished with it.

“What are you doing?” she squealed, struggling against his grip, but he was too strong for her. He touched a band on his own wrist and he vanished as well.

“I am cloaking us so we can escape, now come,” he said, as he pulled her to her feet. He was strong, but gentle. “These bracelets are designed specifically to counter the Siirocian Security Network, but we still need to get out of here as quickly as possible.” He allowed her to stand on her own, but she fell forward on her knees.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. Her arms and legs didn’t want to work right. Her hands and feet were tingly.

“You have Chamber sickness,” the figure said. “You have been in here for far too much time, nearly 30 microcycles now. I’m going to have to carry you.” He picked her up in his strong, comfortable arms, cradling her as he carried her through the Chamber door.

Within moments, the corridors were swarming with armed Siirocian guards. Her assassin-turned-rescuer slipped into a corner, continuing to cradle her in his arms. Rhylie’s vision was improving by increments, but it made her head ache to keep them open for too long. She could see dozens of guards flooding the corridors, looking everywhere for them, and shut her eyes again. Her rescuer placed her on the floor and knelt beside her, remaining motionless.

“We’re trapped,” he whispered. Rhylie opened one eye to look in his direction.
Maybe it’ll only hurt half as much
, she thought. She could only see a light, shimmering outline where the voice had come from. “We need support now,” he continued. “Why can’t you?” It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to someone else on some sort of com device. She closed her eye as the dry pain began to pulse between her temples once again.

“So you’re basically telling me that we’re on our own,” he finally said in a begrudging tone. After that he didn’t say anything again for awhile. The frenetic pace of activity around them eventually subsided as they waited for what seemed like an eternity in the corner.