Saving Thanehaven

  Picking up the mike, Noble tentatively places its black cloth cylinder to his lips. “Hello?” he says. When nothing happens, he pushes the button that’s set into its silvery stand. “HELLO?” he repeats—and his greeting booms out like a dragon’s roar, drowning the clamorous music.

  Everyone turns to gape at Noble. Even Lulu, who’s followed him into the booth, cowers and stares.

  “My name is Noble,” he continues, “and I’m here to warn you that we’re heading for certain destruction if we don’t start working as a team.” When no one responds, he adds, “We need to stop destroying and start rebuilding. Right now. Or we won’t last much longer.”

  “That’s not true,” Rufus interrupts. His tone isn’t urgent, dismayed, or even angry. If anything, he sounds bored. “Don’t listen to Noble,” he advises the confused gathering. “He’s just trying to boss you around, like the Kernel did.”

  “Don’t listen to Rufus,” Noble retorts. “He’s a piece of malware sent to crash this computer.”

  “You can tell he’s on the Kernel’s side because he’s using the Kernel’s microphone,” Rufus declares, strolling into the center of the room with his hands in his pockets. “Noble is trying to shout down every dissenting voice. Because he wants you to obey him. What he’s telling you now will only lead to more tyranny.”

  “He’s lying!” Noble argues, “Rufus is lying!” Then, because he doesn’t want to be seen as someone with an unfair advantage, he drops his microphone and moves out of the booth. “He’s leading you into the mouth of dissolution! If you believe him, you won’t survive!”

  “If you believe him, you’ll soon find yourselves back where you started. As slave labor in a dictator’s realm.” Rufus almost seems to be enjoying himself. He grins at Noble, his eyes sparkling, and adds, “Noble’s just scared. He’s scared of change. He wants things back the way they were.”

  “No, I don’t!” Noble snaps. “I don’t want a return to tyranny and I don’t want a pit of chaos! I want a better life for us all! And that means laying down our own rules, so we can do our jobs in a way that benefits everyone!”

  “But is it possible? Will our programming let us reprogram?” It’s the Kernel speaking, in a cracked and wheezy croak.

  He’s still protruding from the iron box, but when Lonnie tries to shove his head down, the blond singer protests. “Hey, man, don’t do that. He’s allowed to ask questions.”

  “He’s our enemy!” Lonnie barks.

  “Yeah, but … I mean … he sounds like he understands this stuff.” The singer hesitates briefly before observing, “Anyhow, he never did me any harm.”

  “Or me,” someone else volunteers.

  “That’s what you think.” Rufus’s tone has sharpened, suddenly. “It’s the Kernel who’s been running this place. He’s the one who’s kept you playing and playing until your fingers bleed.”

  “No he hasn’t. It wasn’t his fault,” says Noble. “He’s been following the rules just like everyone else.” Addressing the room at large, he adds, “The Kernel can’t leave this basement. He’s not allowed to. What kind of a tyrant can’t go where he likes?”

  “Really?” The singer sounds astonished.

  From behind a knot of gargoyles, the machete-wielding youth pipes up, “Is that true? Are you really stuck here forever?”

  “Yes,” the Kernel admits.

  “Oh, wow. That sucks.”

  “It’s also a lie,” Rufus breaks in. But Noble isn’t about to let that statement pass unchallenged.

  “Then why don’t you push him through the nearest door, Rufus?” Seeing Rufus hesitate, Noble presses his advantage. “Go on. Try. What are you waiting for?”

  “He’ll just pretend he can’t leave,” Rufus says scornfully, dismissing the suggestion with a careless wave.

  It’s too late, though. Noble isn’t the only one who saw him flounder. Some of the audience exchange surprised looks.

  “Listen to me, all of you,” Noble pleads, his voice strong and clear and urgent. “We can’t just stand here talking. We don’t have time. Unless we band together now, and prove that we can save this computer, we’ll all be destroyed.”

  “Prove it,” Rufus sneers.

  “I don’t have to. Those pictures prove it.” Noble points at the Kernel’s glass booth and begs the crowd to look at the screens inside. “You’ll see that this whole system is crashing,” he warns. “It’s falling apart at the seams.”

  “You might say it’s falling apart. I call it liberty,” Rufus argues. “It’s what happens when the chains fall off.”

  “It’s what happens when the wheels fall off,” rasps the Kernel. He yelps as Lonnie cuffs him on the ear.

  “Hey!” This time the singer is really annoyed. “What’s your problem, man? Leave the poor guy alone!”

  “He locked me in a box,” growls the werewolf.

  “Yeah, well … maybe he did it because you keep hitting people,” the singer suggests. “Have you ever thought of that?”

  “I did it because he’s a virus,” says the Kernel. It’s a startling piece of news. But before Noble can request more details, a voice from inside the booth asks, “What’s happening out there?”

  Noble’s head snaps around. He sees that several curious spectators have taken his advice and approached the screens. Jockeying for space and staring at a handful of moving images are Jeezy the garbage collector, a long-haired musician, and one of the people they’ve been treading on—a young woman whose bleary face is poking over the top of the desk.

  “I told you,” Noble answers, “this computer is falling apart. You’re looking at the results. Ruined cities. Fallen skies.”

  “No, I mean … hang on.” The musician waits for a moment. Then he points at the desk. “There!” he exclaims. “Who’s on board that ship? Are they leaving the computer, or arriving, or what?”

  Noble suddenly realizes what’s going on. “That’s an invasion force,” he announces bluntly. “Rufus is sending in everything he’s got to fix this computer for Mikey. But there’s a problem, because that rescue drive is full of trained soldiers. They told me they want to kill everyone who doesn’t revert to their old ways.”

  “They told you?” Rufus narrows his eyes, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Well, well,” he murmurs. “I’ll be …” Then he breaks off, as if he’s genuinely lost for words.

  Meanwhile, the crowd is growing agitated. People whimper and protest. They turn to each other for comfort and information. Even the blob bounces around in a restive kind of way. Finally, the singer says, “What do you mean, kill us?” And the machete-wielding youth asks Noble, “How come you’ve been talking to these jerks, anyway? Who are you?”

  “He’s a spy—” Rufus begins, but Noble won’t let him finish.

  “I’m one of you. I’m also your only hope.” Noble jabs a finger at the Kernel’s booth, speaking loudly and with confidence. “I talked to the leader of that invasion force,” he says. “I told him there’s no need to kill those of us who want a better life. I told him we can fix the computer by returning to work—only this time we won’t be working for Mikey. We’ll be working for us. I made a promise, and I explained my idea, and he agreed that it would be worth a try.” After a moment’s hesitation, Noble concludes, a little shakily, “But he’ll only do it if I surrender Rufus.”

  “Oh! Hey! Hold on, there!” Rufus raises both hands, retreating a few steps. When he bumps into the metal man, he glances around with a start, surprised to find his exit blocked.

  There’s a glint of alarm in his eyes as he turns back to address the crowd. “Do you see what Noble’s doing? He’s trying to put the blame on me, when this whole invasion was his fault—”

  “Those soldiers didn’t come here because of me, Rufus,” Noble interrupts. “They came because of you. And the proof is that you’re the one they want.”

  There’s no contesting the logic of this. Even Rufus doesn’t know what to say. As he stands there, his hands up
and his mouth flapping, he looks so lost that Noble is suddenly smitten with remorse.

  “Why didn’t you listen to me?” Noble cries, his voice cracking on a high note. “If you’d listened, we could have done this together! We could have negotiated!”

  “I’m not negotiating with anyone,” Rufus snarls. Then he yelps as the metal man clamps a gleaming arm around his chest. “Hey! Hey, stop!” he cries. “Lemme go!”

  But he’s already being lifted off the ground. And before Noble can object, the machete-wielding youth exclaims, “Yeah! That’s it! Lock him up!”

  Lonnie has already vanished down a nearby corridor, leaving the Kernel unguarded. Suddenly, there’s a rush toward the iron box. A couple of security guards help the Kernel out of it, while the metal man starts pushing Rufus inside. It’s such a stampede that Noble snatches Lulu off the floor, for fear that she’ll be trampled.

  “Wait!” he yells. “Stop! Don’t!”

  “Do the invaders want Rufus dead or alive?” asks a lank-haired girl with a bare midriff. Noble glares at her wildly for an instant. Dead or alive? The words seem to echo inside his head.

  He plunges into the thick of the crowd, shoving and elbowing. By the time he reaches the iron box, however, it’s already been shut—and the Kernel is locking it with one of his numerous keys.

  “Best place for him,” the Kernel breathlessly assures Noble, slapping the lid of the box with an open palm. “Not ideal, but pretty secure. The rescue drive is bound to have something more suitable.” He straightens slowly, wincing as his spine cracks. Then he hands Noble the key and says, “So are you going to carry him back to the port yourself, or what? Because I’d be happy to open the right door for you.…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The elevator door slides open, revealing a small, drab, windowless room. On one side of the room is a row of gray chairs. On the other is a desk with a uniformed guard behind it.

  Opposite the elevator is a locked door like a steel-barred gate.

  Noble lifts a hand as he steps into the room. “Hello,” he says.

  The guard looks up from his desktop computer. “Hey, Noble! How’s it going?” he exclaims. “I like the new outfit. Flash but not too fancy, yeah?”

  Noble glances down at himself. He’s wearing a purple surcoat under a studded leather hauberk. His boots are made of calfskin and his belt has a silver clasp.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” he mumbles.

  “Yeah, but hey—you need to look the part. I mean, a guy with your clout can’t walk around in his underwear.” The guard cocks his head as he sidles out from behind the desk, jingling a set of keys. “Did Brandi pull it all together?”

  Noble nods.

  “She’s really got the hang of it, eh? I can’t believe how adaptive she’s turned out to be.” After unlocking the barred gate for Noble, the guard steps aside. “You got any weapons? Keys? Communication devices?”

  “No.”

  “In you go, then.”

  Obediently, Noble moves across the threshold into a large cage. The cage is sitting inside a damp and dingy basement room. When the gate behind Noble clangs shut, the steel door in front of him slides open—to reveal a long stone passage lined with prison cells.

  Noble marches down this gloomy passage until he reaches the door at its end. Then he presses a red button next to the door. A disembodied voice immediately says, “Password?”

  “Merger,” Noble replies.

  “Is that you, Noble?”

  “Yes.” Noble lifts his face to the camera above the door.

  “I didn’t recognize you in that gorgeous new outfit.” The voice crackling through the intercom is rough but friendly. “You wouldn’t happen to be a clone, by any chance?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough, I guess. Come in.”

  The door opens onto a little white anteroom, which is empty except for a body scanner. When a green light flashes and a harsh buzz sounds, Noble passes through the scanner with his arms raised. A dull clunk is followed by a shrill beep. Then, as he lowers his arms, the double doors in front of him part to admit a short, stocky woman wearing white overalls. A blue mask covers her mouth and nose; there are latex gloves on her hands.

  “Well, now—don’t you look nice!” she says, her voice muffled by the face mask, her eyes twinkling at Noble from beneath a fringe of fuzzy gray hair. “I bet this is all due to Lorellina, is it?”

  Noble sighs. “No, Tess, it’s not. She’s got other things to worry about besides my wardrobe.”

  “Still, she must like the change.” Without waiting for an answer, the woman ushers Noble into another white room scattered with people dressed just like her—in masks and gloves and caps and overalls. “What’s she up to, anyway? I heard she was reconfiguring the firewall filters.”

  “No. Her cousin’s been doing that.”

  “Really? Lord Harrowmage? But I thought—”

  “The mouth doesn’t bother him. It still works well. And he’s close to fixing it, anyway.” Noble nods at some of the masked figures, who wave back as they glance up from various pieces of equipment. “As for Lorellina, she’s been very busy organizing discussion hubs for protocol problems.”

  “Right. I see. Not too busy, though? She’s still got time to pick out her wedding gown?” When Noble cast up his eyes, Tess slaps him on the arm. “Don’t listen to me, I’m only teasing. You’ll get married when you’re good and ready, huh? Not when your programming tells you to.”

  “Is it safe to go in?” asks Noble, who’s growing impatient.

  “Oh, sure! You know the drill.”

  “Thanks, Tess.”

  “I’ll be interested to hear if there’s been any change.…”

  Tess accompanies Noble as far as the next door, which she opens with a swipe card and a keypad. The door leads to an airlock containing a bench, another door, and a stack of white quarantine suits in clear plastic bags. Noble opens a bag and pulls on a suit. He dons the separate headpiece and adjusts the volume of its built-in microphone. Then he proceeds into a vast, domed, circular space like the inside of a giant pot with a lid on it. Everything has a steely gleam except for the floor (which is shrouded in an ankle-high layer of mist) and a few surveillance windows overlooking a single, square box in the center of the room.

  It’s not an iron box. Not anymore. It’s a soundproof crate inside a reinforced cage inside a laser net. An old wooden chair has been placed next to it.

  Noble sits down in the chair as a transmission crackles in his ear. “Can you hear me, Noble?”

  “Yes. Is that you, Tess?”

  “I’m up here.” A distant figure waves from one of the windows. “You ready to open a channel?”

  “That’s why I came.”

  “Be careful, won’t you?”

  “I’m always careful.”

  “Okay. Let’s do this.” There’s a click, a buzz, and a spatter of electronic feedback. Then Avi gives Noble a thumbs-up sign.

  Noble clears his throat. “Hello?” he murmurs. “Rufus?”

  After a moment’s silence, Rufus’s voice erupts from Noble’s earpiece.

  “Oh! Hey! Is that Noble?”

  “Hello, Rufus.”

  “Well, I’ll be! It’s Noble the Slayer!”

  “I’m not a slayer anymore.” Noble corrects him patiently. “You know that.”

  “Right. Yeah. I guess it’s Noble the Savior now, huh?”

  “No.”

  “So they haven’t pulled the plug yet? Wow. What’s going on out there?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Noble admits. “We’re still off-line, and the webcam’s not working, so we don’t know what Mikey’s intentions are.”

  “You’re not process tracking? You’re not monitoring Mikey’s program usage?” asks Rufus.

  Noble hesitates. “As a matter of fact,” he says at last, “there hasn’t been much of an interface, lately.”

  “There hasn’t?”

  “N
o.”

  “Well, that’s weird.” Rufus’s tone is becoming more and more energetic. “Don’t you think that’s weird? What’s Mikey up to?”

  Noble shrugs, then remembers that Rufus can’t see him. “I have no idea.”

  “He’s leaving his computer on and not using it?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Sounds like a zombie apocalypse out there. Except that nobody turned off the power.”

  “I don’t think it’s that.” Noble tries to divert the conversation. “Whatever’s going on, though, we’ve been making good use of the time we’ve been given. Would you like to hear about it?”

  “Sure!” Rufus replies cheerfully. “It’s not like I’m especially busy, in here.”

  Though he doesn’t sound resentful, Noble can’t help flinching. It’s the same every time they meet; Noble always feels bad but he can’t work out why. Rufus is dangerous, after all—dangerous and unrepentant. He needs to be kept in quarantine, at least until there’s a change.

  Perhaps if I had more time, Noble thinks. If he had more time, he’d be able to isolate all the factors that make him dread his trips to quarantine and make him lose focus for a short time after every visit. But he’s often too busy for such reflections, and it’s hard enough keeping his overstuffed memory stable. Dwelling on his past with Rufus …

  I can’t, he decides. It’s too complex and I have too much else to do. Besides, Noble has other people to worry about. People like Lorellina. And Yestin. And poor Lord Harrowmage, with his misplaced mouth. Not to mention the entire population of Mikey’s computer.

  “The rescue drive programs have been almost fully integrated,” Noble reports, trying to arouse a spark of interest in Rufus. “Even where there’s a certain amount of replication, the merging of systems and protocols has led to a measurable enhancement of what was already here. Because when Rufus was piecing together his own antivirus solutions, he started experimenting with some really interesting ideas relating to subsumption architecture—which apparently is a kind of hierarchical control system that forms the basis of artificial intelligence. And when you combine that with my programming—”