A Day Of Faces by Simon K Jones Page A

here.”
    “Right. But your whole life been defined by not knowing; what happens when you find out?”
    I shrugged. “Let’s go see.”
    Holding a hand to my eyes I stepped through into brightness. The room was white-walled and lit by a row of fluorescents and was considerably smaller than the main archive - more like the size of an office. It was empty except for a device in its centre, next to which stood the hulking form of Cal.
    The device was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It resembled a machine but was also like an animal, of sorts. It was clearly built, and designed, but also had organic parts intermingled with the mechanical pieces. Standing half as tall as Cal and wide at its base, it seemed to be pulsating. In front and below the contraption was some kind of receptacle, above which hung a wide nozzle.
    Marv followed me through. “Yeah. Told you I didn’t know what the hell I was seeing.”
    “Cal? What is it?”
    He held something up. “This was in there,” he said, pointing at the receptacle. With a jerk of his hand he threw the object at me. I caught it and examined it. It was white and sculpted, with a bumpy, undulating surface and holes punched through, like three face masks linked together as a single piece. I rotated it around and saw my own face, with Cal and Marv represented either side. Our likenesses, carved into the object. I stared for several seconds, then flipped it over again. There was a message on the back, warning of our imminent arrival at the spire. “In all the confusion I guess they didn’t get the message,” Cal said.
    Marv touched the sculpted message with a hand. “Who sends a message like this?”
    The scales on my neck fluttered. “We’re way out of our depth here,” I said. “Which, I know, is, like, super obvious. But even with that taken into account, we are then extra out of our depth.”
    Cal actually laughed. “Do you not remember your religious studies?”
    “I went to a state school. Didn’t really have much of that.”
    He grimaced. “Orphanages are mostly run by the church,” he said. “I’ve heard them talk about this kind of thing.” He moved cautiously around it, as if circling a wild animal. The fur on his head and arms was pointed, like an alarmed cat. “But only in terms of proclamations from god. Stone tablets. Messages from the mountain. Ring any bells?”
    Cal reached out and touched the contraption. The device heaved and swelled as Cal touched it and he cried out in pain, seemingly unable to remove his hand from its surface. At the same time there was a deafening blast from the archive room.
    “Ah man, that’s just bad timing,” Marv said, heading back through the hole in the wall. “I got this.”
    I leapt forwards and pulled at Cal, tearing him away from whatever had been holding him in place. We both tumbled backwards onto the floor as he began shivering uncontrollably, eyes glazed over and mouth agape. The fit intensified and as he rocked back and forth he began to shed his fur, leaving it strewn across the floor as he rolled. I tried to pin him down but his form kept shifting, his arms and torso shrinking down and changing texture, from fur to bare skin to scales to feathers and back again. His face was a contortion of pain, eyes bulging, irises flicking from black oval to diamond slit to yellow orbs. His teeth pushed out through his lips, then retracted, then turned to points, then fell out entirely. I backed off, unable to hold him down and at risk from being knocked out by his movements. He writhed, shifting over and over again.
    Shouts came from the other room, then gunfire. There was nothing I could do for Cal, but Marv needed my help. Reluctantly backing away from Cal I turned and ducked back through, into a warzone.
    The archives were a blaze of light and fire, flames spreading from the far wall where they’d blown their way in. Soldiers were pouring in, firing intermittently and seemingly at more than one target. I crouched