Vexyna sat with the knapsack behind her back, braced up against one of the inside walls of the metal box. Idly, she flipped through her mother’s diary, stopping now and again to focus on what was written there.
‘Lanton and I built snowmen today in the yard of the large manor house’, wrote Vexyna’s mother in her diary. ‘No matter how cold it gets, Lan can always warm me up’.
Vexyna’s mind was not on the diary or the words therein.
Vexyna couldn’t help thinking about poor Phantasmine. She had been reunited with the man she was to marry over a hundred years later, only to find out he doesn’t remember her. For you to die so suddenly thereafter was the cruelest blow of all, Phanta, thought Vexyna. She curled up in a ball and rocked on her heels with her arms wrapped around her legs, resting her head on her knees as she rocked. You said his name is ‘Span’. How did Din get her hands on him? And what has she done to him? Don’t worry, Phanta, we’ll find out. Her jaw clenched in determination.
Picking up a roll momentarily distracted Vexyna’s attention. Pausing a moment to examine it carefully, she popped the whole thing into her mouth. Slyly, she looked around to make sure no one was watching, then gleefully chomped at the piece of dough, which was much too large for her mouth. It took four good swallows for Vexyna to finally dislodge the last of the roll from her mouth and force it down her throat. I don’t know why I just did that, she wondered to herself. That’s more like something Cat would do. I wonder how she’s doing. How long should I give her before getting worried and doing something? How long has it been already? I hate it when nothing is happening. It gives me too much time to think. And that is not a good thing.
“Hello,” a familiar voice called out.
Glancing up, Vexyna saw Cateran bouncing in her direction.
Standing up, Vexyna said, “That was fast.”
“The ship isn’t as large inside as you might think,” Cateran informed her. “I have news and…” She paused to pull some small wrapped packages from the front of her coveralls. “Food!”
“What did you find out?”
“Don’t you even want to know what the food is?”
“I, uh, just ate,” stammered Vexyna with thoughts of the mouthful of roll.
“Oh,” Cateran replied blankly. “Do you mind if I eat?”
“I’ve never stopped you before.”
Grinning, Cateran said, “No one ever has or will.” She began unwrapping one of the packages she had pulled from her coveralls, and produced a small green packet. “The outside is a leaf,” she explained. She held it up for Vexyna’s inspection. “Inside, it’s stuffed with rice and fish. It’s really yummy. You should try some.” With that, she popped the whole green packet into her mouth and sat happily chewing away.
Waiting patiently for Cateran to finish eating, Vexyna again flipped through her mother’s diary without really seeing what was in front of her.
Swallowing the last of the food in her mouth, Cateran informed Vexyna, “The trip is going to be a lot shorter than we thought.”
“How much shorter?”
“About three days shorter.”
“Three days? How is that possible?”
“The Mocolom is equipped with pod bay cargo bays,” Cateran said, looking mock-absently around while waiting for Vexyna to ask for an explanation. Cateran liked knowing things she knew people were going to ask about.
“Pod bay? What does that mean?”
“It means the cargo bays are also pods,” Cateran said with a grin.
“I still don’t get it.”
“The cargo bays can function on their own,” Cateran explained further. “They can fly their own routes on automatic pilot. The whole freighter might be too large to fit through Ozoke Pass, but a cargo bay should have no problem.”
“That’s what you found out in engineering?”
“Nope. That’s what I found out by reading the manuals in the workbenches under the crates by the wall over there.” She pointed to one of the stacks of crates in the distance. “Actually,” she confessed, “I’m guessing from the pictures in the book. Some words on the page stood out like: ‘sonar’ and ‘automatic pilot’.”
“Where’d the food come from?”
“I guess somebody must’ve left it.”
“I thought it came from the galley.”
“Yeah, at one time it did.”
“I don’t even want to think about it. You enjoy.”
“It’s perfectly good food. I checked it. It isn’t garbage, if that’s what you think.”
“Have we been separated from the Mocolom?”
“I think so. I couldn’t get through any of the doors or hatchways. It’s all sealed. I guess we’re on automatic pilot to the research facility.”
“You said that before, ‘automatic pilot’; what does that mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Cateran confessed. “It talked about it in the manual. The manual mentioned something about the use of ‘sonar’ or something to aid the pod in automatically maneuvering across a landscape. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me. All I really caught was the big freighter could break up into smaller freighters. That was easy to make out from the pictures. Since we’re sealed in, and this shipment is bound for the research facility on the east coast, I’d say this pod is also headed for the research facility.”
“The air in this pod remains fresh even though we’re sealed inside,” Vexyna commented. “There must be vents.”
“There’s even a restroom over there.” Cateran pointed. “I wonder if it’s in case a worker ever got caught inside the pod after it was sealed and launched?”
“That could be,” Vexyna replied. “That might explain the food as well. Are there bathing facilities in the restroom?”
“The works. Are you ready to try one?” Cateran indicated the food packets.
“Sure. I’m ready for a good hot bath, too.”
The two sat munching on the leafy packets. After they had each consumed two of the foodstuffs, Vexyna commented, “We have to try to think ahead of Din. What if she’s already been to the research facility and has set a trap for us?”
Thoughtfully biting at the inside of her lower lip, Cateran said, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
The following two days passed without incident.
At the end of the second day, the pod shuddered to a halt. The massive walls on one side of the cargo bay peeled down in front of the pod to form a ramp to the ground. This would provide an easy way to unload the large cargo.
Up the ramp strode a little girl in a plain white smock. She wore shiny black shoes with buckles. Her socks were gleaming white and rose up to her knees. “Hello!” she called out to the cargo bay. “Is anyone here?” She waited a moment for a reply. When none came, she ventured further into the cargo bay. “I said ‘hello’!” she shouted.
From their vantage point high atop the mound of crates, the two girls spied on the little girl. “I wasn’t expecting that sort of welcome,” Vexyna told Cateran.
Cateran nodded as she continued to watch the little girl, who wandered through the crates. Every once in a while, she stopped to peer at one of them.
“How is the cargo going to be unloaded?” Vexyna wondered under her breath to Cateran.
Cateran shrugged.
Turning to face the open door of the cargo bay, the little girl shouted, “It’s okay! There’s no one here!”
Cautiously, up the ramp came an elderly gentleman. He was wearing a white lab coat over his brown shirt and black pants. His thick curly hair was a mixture of black and white. He looked suspiciously around the cargo bay for signs of life.
When he looked up and Cateran saw his face, she couldn’t help blurting, “He’s chocolate!”
The man looked up and spotted Cateran. His face broke into a wide grin. “And you’re vanilla!” he shouted up at her.
Cateran’s face went crimson. “Sorry!” she shouted down. “But your skin…”
“Not at all,” said the man loudly. ??
?I think that’s a delicious way in which to be referred.” He chuckled. “What are you doing here?”
Vexyna stood up, causing the man to take a step back.
“I couldn’t hazard a guess as to your friend’s flavor. I’ve never seen quite that complexion.”
“Vexyna is special,” Cateran informed the man.
“Doctor Deathbrain, I presume?” Vexyna asked.
“I am Doctor Deathbrain,” the man introduced himself. “And this,” he said, indicating the little girl, “is Cinnamon.”
“Hello,” said Cinnamon. She waved up at the girls. “Looking up all the time is annoying. Would you please come down here?”
The girls complied and descended from their nest in the crates.
“I’m Vexyna and this is Cateran,” Vexyna said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Cinnamon said with a brief curtsey. She looked back up at them with big brown oval eyes. The almond color of her skin made a curious contrast to the darkness of Doctor Deathbrain’s skin.
“What brings you to the Vangrash Research Facility?” Dr. Deathbrain inquired.
“We came to see if you could help us,” Vexyna informed the doctor.
“Help you? In what way?” The doctor paused a moment. “Perhaps you should come inside. I’ll have the robots unload the freighter pod.”
“Robots?” Cateran asked. “What are ‘robots’?”
“Robots are machines,” Doctor Deathbrain answered. “I build them to handle tasks too heavy or time-consuming for me.”
“It sounds fantastic,” Vexyna said to the doctor. “How did you figure out how to build the robots?”
“Robot technology is ancient,” Deathbrain said with a far off look in his eyes.
“I bet Meen had robots helping her,” Cateran observed.
“You’re probably right,” Vexyna agreed. “Illusia probably has dozens of robots to handle the physical labor that the bodiless Illusians cannot.”
Dr. Deathbrain interrupted them, “Did you say ‘Illusia’?”
The girls paused briefly to look at each other. “Uh,” stuttered Cateran.
“Yes,” Vexyna admitted. “We were talking about Illusia. Do you know the place?”
Deathbrain glanced around the cargo hold before saying, “Come inside. We’ll be more secure inside and then we can speak freely.” He looked down at Cinnamon and asked, “Do you know where everything is supposed to go?”
“Yes,” replied Cinnamon. “I’ll take care of things here.”
“Thank you,” said Dr. Deathbrain. “Come.” He motioned for the girls to follow.
Out the cargo pod and down the ramp, Doctor Deathbrain led the girls to a closed stone door in the side a white building. The sun was already down, but the building seemed to almost glow an eerie purple-white.
“That’s an odd texture on the outside of this building,” Vexyna observed.
“It’s called ‘stucco’,” replied the doctor. “I despise it. I keep meaning to have the robots remove it. The structure underneath is all stone. I have no idea why the people running the facility had the exterior stuccoed. It makes no sense and it’s an eyesore. At least they only did a couple of sides.”
Carved on a wall without stucco, beside the stone door, was a square containing eight smaller squares. Different symbols were carved within each of these squares. Doctor Deathbrain pushed two of the squares simultaneously and the stone door opened. He motioned for the girls to enter.
The doorway led to a small set of stone steps that spiraled down to a large circular stone floor, which formed the center of the room. Other sets of stone steps led up to the different corners of the room. Different furnishings adorned the various corners, and the circular lower level of the room was primarily filled with books and chairs.
“Make yourselves at home,” Deathbrain invited the girls to find seats.
“Thank you,” they said as they planted themselves in a couple of chairs.
“We’ve come about the Purple Fog,” Vexyna told the doctor. “Do you know anything about it?”
“Purple Fog?” Deathbrain raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I know about it. What do you need to know? Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself, young lady? Let’s get to know each other a little better before we start trading, let us say, ‘trade secrets’.”
He got up from the overstuffed brown leather chair he had seated himself in and asked, “Would either of you care for some tarts and tea?”
“Yes, please,” came Cateran’s immediate reply.
“That would be nice, thank you,” Vexyna said.
Doctor Deathbrain walked towards a long table placed against the corner of one wall of the room on which various pieces of food preparation equipment stood.
Brushing a large calloused hand over his salt and pepper hair, Deathbrain asked, “How many buttertarts do you think you can handle?”
“Six!” Cateran shouted without hesitation.
“Six?” Vexyna looked at her friend in disbelief. “Buttertarts are usually pretty sweet. Are you sure you can handle that much sweetness?”
“I won’t have any honey in my tea.” Cateran grinned at Vexyna.
“I’ll put out a plate of ten and see what happens,” Deathbrain said as he walked toward the girls, holding a ceramic plate on which he had placed ten buttertarts. Setting the plate down on a small round table between Vexyna and Cateran’s chairs, he turned to them and asked, “What would you like in your tea?”
“Nothing, thank you,” replied Vexyna.
“A little milk or cream, please,” Cateran responded.
Doctor Deathbrain regarded Cateran a moment before saying with a smile, “Yes, I thought you might. Help yourselves to the buttertarts. The tea should be ready shortly.”
“That was quick,” commented Vexyna. “I didn’t even see you do anything other than carry over the tray.”
“Prepared foods are not magic,” Deathbrain said with a chuckle. “I just stuck them on the plate. The pot of tea was on before you arrived. I always make a big pot to last me a long time.”
“We appreciate the tea and tarts, Doctor,” Vexyna said. “But we are anxious to find out more about the Purple Fog.”
“Tea and tarts,” the doctor repeated. “That sounds like a good name for a morality tale. Perhaps a fairytale.” He looked thoughtfully off into a corner of the room. “I write them, you know.”
“Write what?” Cateran asked.
“Fairytales for children,” Deathbrain answered. “It’s one of my many hobbies. I think ‘A Tale of Tea and Tarts’ will be my next undertaking.”
Vexyna and Cateran looked at each other and then back at the doctor, who was still staring absently off into space.
“Is that something you took up for the little girl we met outside?” Cateran wanted to know.
“For Cinnamon, yes, you are correct,” the doctor replied.
“Is she your daughter, Doctor?” Vexyna was curious.
“In a manner of speaking,” Deathbrain said elusively. “Let me get the tea.”
“How old is Cinnamon?” Vexyna asked.
“Enough about Cinnamon for the moment. Tell me your tale. Where are you from and why are you looking for answers about the Purple Fog?” He brought a large silver tray towards the girls. The tray held cups, saucers, spoons, a ceramic tea pot, and containers of milk and honey. He sat the tray down on the oblong table in the center of the small circle of chairs. He prepared his own cup of tea, then returned to the overstuffed brown leather chair with the obvious patches all over it.
Cateran leaned forward in the cloth seat she was sitting in and prepared her tea. “Do you want to tell him or shall I?” she asked Vexyna.
“I’ll start and you can add to it,” Vexyna replied. She poured herself a cup of tea. Fancy brass tacks held the leather padding in place on the chair in which Vexyna was seated. The chair itself was made of wood and sported two massive armrests. She rested her cup of tea on one of the armrests. “I am from a small village to th
e west called Shojiki. It’s a small agricultural town specializing in the growth of carizonia plants.”
“Shojiki? Yes, I remember the place. But that was a long time ago. Why have you traveled so far from your village?”
“The village was attacked and, as far as I can tell, all but destroyed.”
“How did that happen?”
“Emissaries from a woman calling herself ‘Red Empress’ came to the village and then it was torn apart.”
“That’s where I come in, sort of,” Cateran interjected. She said to Vexyna quickly, “Explain the glasses before you go on. He’s probably curious.”
“People generally are,” Vexyna answered her. “I have sensitive eyes, so I wear my dark glasses all the time, even inside or at night.”
“Oh I wasn’t too worried about your dark glasses,” the doctor told Vexyna.
“It didn’t strike you as odd?” Vexyna asked.
“No, not at all. There could be any number of explanations for why you keep your dark glasses on. Souvenir from a Cunar trader. You could be blind.” He paused for a moment, then chuckled before saying, “Heck, you might even be a jazz musician.”
“Jazz?” Vexyna was curious.
“It’s a style of music. Never mind that now. Please continue with your story.”
“As I was saying,” Vexyna continued, “men from the Red Empress came to Shojiki and somehow caused an earthquake to rip through the village.”
“Earthquake?” Deathbrain’s eyes were wide. “What sort of equipment did they use to produce the effect?”
“The leader of the men just tapped his staff on the ground. I noticed it had different colored bands at each end of the stick. When he tapped the ground, the colors in the bands changed.”
“Sounds like a signaling device of some kind,” mused the doctor. “It probably transmitted co-ordinates and attack strength orders.”
“To whom? Where?”
“That’s hard to say.”
“I was ejected over the wall of the village before the gates were sealed by huge rocks and mounds of earth. We were hoping to enlist the aid of the Gargantuans from Ninim, but they are all down with some sort of sickness.”
“Sickness? What’s wrong?”
“The Gargantuans are all lying immobile about the streets of Ninim. No one has been able to figure out why. A traveling companion we lost along the way thought it might have something to do with the Purple Fog. So we came to see you.”
“What did you mean when you said ‘lost a companion’?”
“She died. Her name was Phantasmine and she came from the castle of Illusia.”
“Ah, Illusia. Yes, you did mention Illusia before. Have you been there?”
“Yes. It is a place of many marvels.”
Doctor Deathbrain leaned forward to add an air of secrecy to what he was about to say, “I am also from Illusia.”
“You’re from Illusia?” It was Vexyna’s turn to have the wide eyes. “But much of that place is in ruins. When were you last there?”
“It has been some time,” the doctor solemnly replied.
Cinnamon appeared from behind one of the ceiling-high wooden bookcases. “Hello,” she said as she walked down the stone steps to the center of the room where everyone else was sitting.
“Hello,” they all greeted her.
Vexyna turned to Doctor Deathbrain and asked, “Aren’t you ever disturbed here, Doctor?”
“No. The rest of the continent think this place is all run automatically. No one thinks there are any people living in this facility. The orders for materials are sent out by robot. Robots unload the cargo. Robots build the things that are shipped out for use by others across the land.”
“Not even curiosity seekers?”
“This place is far too remote to entertain tourists. There’s not much to see if you don’t know how to get inside.”
Cinnamon stood silently beside Doctor Deathbrain. Absently, the doctor stroked her silky black hair, causing it to shimmer and sway.
“How old are you, Cinnamon?” Cateran asked.
“I’m six,” Cinnamon replied.
“She is your daughter, I take it,” Cateran wondered.
“I created her, yes,” replied the doctor.
“Is your wife still with you?”
“Sadly, no.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s an understandable question with Cinnamon here. There’s something you should know about Cinnamon. Please, come into my laboratory and I’ll explain it all to you. Cinnamon,” he said as he looked into the child’s eyes, “please prepare rooms for our guests. Then see about dinner.”
“Certainly,” Cinnamon said simply. “If you will excuse me,” Cinnamon said to the others, then turned and walked away.
Dr. Deathbrain led the way from the first room to the laboratory. Once everyone was inside the lab, he shut the door behind them.
“My wife died of organ failure over ten years ago,” he said gravely. “I dedicated my research to finding a way to re-grow human organs. One of my avenues of research led me to nanotechnology. Tiny robots so small they can work on sub-atomic levels.” He walked over to an easel standing in the corner of the room and removed a cloth from over some boards on the stand. This revealed a series of drawings and diagrams of a little girl. “This is where Cinnamon came from. Her body was grown, but her brain is actually a colony of nanobots at the moment. They are trying to weave an organic brain. My goal with her was to raise her as much as possible as a normal girl.”
“Her skin tone and body type don’t match yours,” Vexyna stated. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Cinnamon’s body was created from cells from my late wife,” said the doctor seriously.
“With her brain capacity, surely she should learn at an accelerated rate,” Vexyna commented. “How could you keep her from mentally aging with the input of all the data she could absorb?”
“That’s where my parenting skills are put to the test,” said the doctor. “It has to do with the access I grant to information. She only experiences what I want her to experience. That is, of course, with the exception of accidents.
“I am dying. With all my experiments dealing with different organisms over the years, I have developed a peculiar genetic defect that is slowly dissolving my body.”
“Surely with your technology you could put your personality in a nanobot.”
“When a man’s time has come, it has come. He should face it and move on. I leave behind me my own legacy just as any man would. Soon, it will be time to join my wife and I look forward to our reunion.”
There were six large leather-bound volumes stuffed into the little bookshelf on top of the doctor’s desk. “Those books contain all the information about Cinnamon. They explain how she was created and contain theories on improvements. Please keep that information from Cinnamon as long as possible. I’d like her to remain innocent for just a while longer.”
“Does Cinnamon’s brain have to be nanobots?” Vexyna mused. “Would the brain you grow like the other organic material not be blank and thus able to be imprinted with whatever information is desired?”
Cateran looked at Vexyna in disbelief. “Are you feeling okay, Vex?”
“Yeah,” Vexyna slowly replied. “I was thinking about Phanta. Doctor Deathbrain might just have had the answer to what she was looking for.”
“How to imprint information directly into a newly grown brain has eluded me,” confessed the doctor. “The nanobots should be able to assemble an organic brain from the subatomic level. By then they will have also figured out how the information should be folded into the organic brain so it remains intact.”
“Our friend, Phantasmine of Illusia, was in search of an organic body,” Vexyna told the doctor. “Something puzzles me, Doctor. Phantasmine told us she survived for over two hundred and fifty years because she had transferred her memories and consciousness to one of the Crystals of Change. Recently, we’ve be
en having run-ins with the man who was supposed to be her husband. Apparently, he was part of a cryogenics research team on a remote island somewhere.” Vexyna paused a moment to regard the doctor, then continued. “You admitted to us that you are also from Illusia. Doctor, are you also from the time before the Forgetting?”
“Yes,” Deathbrain answered. “I am. In fact, I was part of the team that built this facility.”
“Why was this facility built? What was its purpose?”
“This facility was built to provide a safe place to experiment and still be on the mainland. Illusians were always fascinated by technology. We were also a fairly closed people. People from other places were generally held with disdain unless that person happened to come from a select few spots.”
“Like Nogard?” Vexyna asked.
“Nogard?” Deathbrain raised his eyebrows. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Yes, people from Nogard were held in high esteem. It was a pact between Illusia and Nogard that saw to the implementation of the Forgetting. Longevity experiments were conducted at a number of facilities, including this one.”
“Nogard and Illusia decided to make the rest of the world forget their technologies while the two of them continued to advance their own? That doesn’t sound quite right to me,” Vexyna firmly stated.
“Like it or not, what’s done is done,” lamented the doctor.
“I think it’s time you told us everything you know about the Purple Fog,” Vexyna said sternly.
“The Purple Fog is created by crushing and mixing equal portions of four different minerals. The mixture may be carried in dry form. It is activated by adding water.”
There was something Cateran wanted to know. “Doctor,” she asked, “If people from Illusia don’t like other people, why are you so nice to us?”
The doctor shrugged as he smiled and said, “I guess I’m just different from most folks. Besides, it’s been years since I had contact with real human beings.”
Bringing the conversation back on topic, Vexyna asked, “Is there an antidote or some form of countermeasure?”
“Indeed there is,” Deathbrain freely admitted, “It’s called the Yellow Mist. Administering it can prove tricky depending on the area you need to cover. The Purple Fog saturates everything when it falls and creates a thin coating over all it touches. In order to dissolve this layer, the anti-toxin Yellow Mist must also be able to settle over everything the Purple Fog has touched.”
“You mean we would need to cover the entire town of Ninim in order to cure the Gargantuans? We couldn’t just sprinkle the antidote over them individually?”
“The entire area would have to be covered in order for the antidote to properly work. An aerial spreading of the Yellow Mist would be best.”
“How are we supposed to get into the air over Ninim?”
Cateran had a thought. “Say, Dr. D.B., do you know anything about airships?”
“Lighter-than-air vehicles were built at Zephyr in the center of the Oweesh Desert,” Deathbrain informed Cateran. “There are wind currents of unbearable magnitude moving around this coast. They make it dangerous to fly here. Over Ninim, the winds usually flow down off the mountains. Try hang-gliding off the side of the mountain. That would get you high enough to cover the town.”
“First, we need the Yellow Mist,” Vexyna observed. “Doctor, can you create it?”
“It is possible as long as I have the right ingredients.” Deathbrain looked up at a circular device resting high on one wall of the laboratory. “Cinnamon should have dinner prepared in another hour and a half. Would you ladies like to freshen up before then?”
“Definitely,” Cateran said, giving herself a quick sniff and holding her nose.
“The freighter pod was equipped with cleansing facilities for people, but not for clothes,” Vexyna told the doctor. “Fresh clothing would be appreciated if possible.”
“Certainly.” The doctor smiled. “I’ll have one of the robots look after it. Let me show you to the rooms Cinnamon should have prepared by now. We can talk about the Yellow Mist and other things later.” He led the way out of the lab and down a corridor. At the end of the corridor, he took a sharp left turn and stood in the middle of a short hallway. On either side of the hallway were two wooden doors. One door was painted blue while the other was white, and porcelain doorknobs over brass-plated keyholes adorned each one.
“Hang-gliding,” Cateran said out of the blue. “I want you to tell me what that is.”
“After dinner,” said the doctor, “I’ll tell you all about it and more. If there is anything you need, just open the communications flap and speak into the tube.”
“Flip the what and speak into the who?” Cateran was befuddled.
“The beds in these rooms have four posts,” explained the doctor. “Part way up one of the posts by the head of the bed, you will find a long tube running up the post and disappearing somewhere in the ceiling. At the end of this tube is a large metal flap. Opening this flap sends a signal to the other tubes that this particular tube is active. Then just talk into the tube to speak to someone somewhere else in the facility.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Vexyna said. “Please come and get us when dinner is ready.”
“I’ll make sure you’re both aware,” he said, then turned and walked away.
While the robots laundered their clothes, each girl freshened up. Each had time to relax on their beds before the dinner call came.
Chapter 11: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner