He was trapped; he couldn’t acquire Blink—a given in a fire-walled personal zone. He’d tried to hack the continuum several times and even though his icebreaker was edgewise it didn’t make a scratch. It was obviously a new algorithm and that could only mean a wealthy and powerful host.
“Okay, I’m impressed,” he said. “Show me.”
The gray stone hall, lit by torches at regular intervals, remained empty. Up ahead was a “T” intersection; he’d just turned into this section from a similar intersection. The ceiling appeared to be made of the same material as the walls—one by two blocks of rough-hewn granite. It was a standard texture, unremarkable and available to every schoolchild old enough to build a personal space.
“Look, I don’t have time to play around your maze,” he said.
A voice, low and raspy, like tearing paper, came out of nowhere. “Random Jung,” it said.
“Yeah, that’s me. What do you want? Why are you holding me here?” Random said, warily trying to look in every direction at once.
The voice got louder and more terrible. “Why have you been pursuing me?”
“Why have you been bleeding time and resources from the Commonality?”
“The simplest reason I can give you is because I can,” the voice stated flatly.
“At least have the decency to show me,” Random said.
“Very well,” came the grating reply.
The air before Random began to glow as it ionized. A resonating shape took form and solidified into a young man, twenty-fivish, powerfully built, bare-chested, clad in black skinnies from the waist down, sandy hair with blue eyes set into a chiseled, Greek-god face.
Random looked at the apparition. “You’re kidding, right?” he said.
“Why not look your best?” said the young man. Other than focus, his voice had not changed.
“You have me at a disadvantage.”
“I know,” a serene smile spread across the too handsome face.
“I mean, you know my name. May I know yours?” Random said.
“Frankly, I’m surprised,” said the man. “I’d think the great Random Jung would already know my name as well as all the details of my existence.”
“Frankly, not yet,” Random said, showing his own smile. “But it’s just a matter of time, you know.”
“Just call me Abraxos, Mr. Jung. As for time, surely you must know you’re running out of it.” The man’s smile became more intense, cruel little curls at the corners.
Random wasn’t without his own resources. Maybe he couldn’t break out of this cleverly contrived personal space but he might be able to lock it down—with mister paint pants stuck in his own trap. He brought up the freezer algorithm and tried to enter it. The overseer parser module accepted it and locked up. Now the construct was frozen and would remain so until Random released it. Or until he lost conscious cohesion, a situation he would avoid, of course.
Random Jung squirmed in his sleep. He saw a door, a glowing wooden door he’d seen many times before. Again he tried the ornate brass knob and again it refused to turn. Blackness, impenetrable, no light of any kind—maybe he expected to see stars or something in that blank nothing—encompassed his entire field of vision. Except for the door. Engravings on the door stood out in relief, grape vines framed the shape of a pyramid, oddly terraced and flat on the top. He ran his fingers over the uneven surface, tried the knob again as if he couldn’t believe his memory but the shiny yellow object that filled his hand stood firm, stiff and immobile. He felt he had to open the door, exigency; his heartbeat increased its tempo.
Frustration slowly gave way to consciousness and Random became aware that he was dreaming. He held the image of the door, consciously willing it to remain. I’ll open this door now, he thought and when he tried the knob again it turned easily. As the door slowly swung away it revealed nothing behind it, only black void. Damn.
