take you—”
Another shot rang out. This one was closer and ricocheted off the sidewalk. Sam looked down at the old man. He could carry him, but he’d have to drop the box. How important could a box be? The old man clawed at his coat again, drawing himself up. He peered into Sam’s eyes and then gasped.
“No!” he stammered. “It isn’t possible!”
“What?
“You’re one of them!”
“One of what? I’m not one of anything. What are you—”
The old monk let go and fell back onto the sidewalk.
“I’ve failed…”
“No, you haven’t!” Sam didn’t know why it was so important that this doomed stranger believe him, but it was. “I’ll return it. I promise.”
The old man lay on the ground, his mouth forming words without sound. Sam leaned down.
“All for nothing,” whispered the monk, blood gurgling from his mouth.
“No,” said Sam, gently. “I promise, I’ll—”
“Aberration! Abomination!” He barely had enough breath in his lungs now, but there was no mistaking the venom in his voice. A wizened hand reached up and touched the box, but the old eyes were fixed on Sam’s face.
“The end,” said the monk. “The end of all.”
Sam watched as the eyes became blind and one final breath rattled in the old man’s throat. Another bullet screamed past.
There was no time to waste. He jumped to his feet, tucked the box under his arm and ran, ducking into the first alley he came to, then down another, through a dark pedestrian tunnel and finally out into a busy plaza, crowded with sidewalk cafes and bars. He’d lost them.
He stopped near a streetlight and looked at the box.
It was intricately carved and decorated with strange metals and minerals, each entwining with the other like a casket of snakes. It was beautiful, yet there was something frightening about it. Which was stupid—it was just a box.
Though, of course, it wasn’t.
Because he’d seen it before.
In a drawing. A drawing of a strange box. His mother had shown it to him. Just in case. That’s what she’d said: just in case. It was a long time ago, when he was very young and he hadn’t understood much. Only that there was something bad about this box. That it was a box that no one could have.
It was supposed to be hidden where no one would ever find it. He ran his hand over the cold surface. It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t a bomb. It was just a box. Yet people had died for it before and would probably do so again.
It was the Paradigm Device.
Chapter 5
“Y ou’re late.”
Nathan was leaning against the wall outside the Entropy Inn. He looked like he’d been there for a while and he didn’t seem pleased about it. He also looked really tired.
“Why aren’t you inside?”
“Because nowhere in this poxy city takes real money, that’s why! I mean, I have been everywhere and they don’t even have places where you can exchange it—what is the point of that?”
“Control, I guess.”
“Control of what? How are people expected to do business if you won’t let them take any money? All anyone wants is these stupid Century City Primos, whatever the heck they are. Have you seen them, by the way? They’re yellow and blue. Yellow and blue! What kind of color is that for money?”
“I think they want you to use credit.”
“What? But I don’t have any—”
“I imagine they’ll make it very easy.”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “Oh, I get it. Then you’re on their radar for life. No thanks. Let’s get out of here.”
Sam nodded and they strolled back to the parking lot.
“It’s weird, though, isn’t it?” said Nathan, looking up at the glass-clad skyscrapers. “Like pictures in an old book.”
“Yeah. But not…it doesn’t seem right somehow. Like nothing here is real.”
“No. Y’know, I think we should—”
He didn’t get any further. They both just stood there—stunned.
The elevator doors, the ones that should have taken them back to their car, were barred by a set
Another shot rang out. This one was closer and ricocheted off the sidewalk. Sam looked down at the old man. He could carry him, but he’d have to drop the box. How important could a box be? The old man clawed at his coat again, drawing himself up. He peered into Sam’s eyes and then gasped.
“No!” he stammered. “It isn’t possible!”
“What?
“You’re one of them!”
“One of what? I’m not one of anything. What are you—”
The old monk let go and fell back onto the sidewalk.
“I’ve failed…”
“No, you haven’t!” Sam didn’t know why it was so important that this doomed stranger believe him, but it was. “I’ll return it. I promise.”
The old man lay on the ground, his mouth forming words without sound. Sam leaned down.
“All for nothing,” whispered the monk, blood gurgling from his mouth.
“No,” said Sam, gently. “I promise, I’ll—”
“Aberration! Abomination!” He barely had enough breath in his lungs now, but there was no mistaking the venom in his voice. A wizened hand reached up and touched the box, but the old eyes were fixed on Sam’s face.
“The end,” said the monk. “The end of all.”
Sam watched as the eyes became blind and one final breath rattled in the old man’s throat. Another bullet screamed past.
There was no time to waste. He jumped to his feet, tucked the box under his arm and ran, ducking into the first alley he came to, then down another, through a dark pedestrian tunnel and finally out into a busy plaza, crowded with sidewalk cafes and bars. He’d lost them.
He stopped near a streetlight and looked at the box.
It was intricately carved and decorated with strange metals and minerals, each entwining with the other like a casket of snakes. It was beautiful, yet there was something frightening about it. Which was stupid—it was just a box.
Though, of course, it wasn’t.
Because he’d seen it before.
In a drawing. A drawing of a strange box. His mother had shown it to him. Just in case. That’s what she’d said: just in case. It was a long time ago, when he was very young and he hadn’t understood much. Only that there was something bad about this box. That it was a box that no one could have.
It was supposed to be hidden where no one would ever find it. He ran his hand over the cold surface. It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t a bomb. It was just a box. Yet people had died for it before and would probably do so again.
It was the Paradigm Device.
Chapter 5
“Y ou’re late.”
Nathan was leaning against the wall outside the Entropy Inn. He looked like he’d been there for a while and he didn’t seem pleased about it. He also looked really tired.
“Why aren’t you inside?”
“Because nowhere in this poxy city takes real money, that’s why! I mean, I have been everywhere and they don’t even have places where you can exchange it—what is the point of that?”
“Control, I guess.”
“Control of what? How are people expected to do business if you won’t let them take any money? All anyone wants is these stupid Century City Primos, whatever the heck they are. Have you seen them, by the way? They’re yellow and blue. Yellow and blue! What kind of color is that for money?”
“I think they want you to use credit.”
“What? But I don’t have any—”
“I imagine they’ll make it very easy.”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “Oh, I get it. Then you’re on their radar for life. No thanks. Let’s get out of here.”
Sam nodded and they strolled back to the parking lot.
“It’s weird, though, isn’t it?” said Nathan, looking up at the glass-clad skyscrapers. “Like pictures in an old book.”
“Yeah. But not…it doesn’t seem right somehow. Like nothing here is real.”
“No. Y’know, I think we should—”
He didn’t get any further. They both just stood there—stunned.
The elevator doors, the ones that should have taken them back to their car, were barred by a set
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