Archive Ch.3

‘Never judge a book by its cover’ was a phrase Nic hadn’t ever given much thought. He knew it of course, he doubted few over the age of six didn’t, though he couldn’t remember when or how he himself had learned it. One of those timeless phrases that you just absorbed from hanging around other people long enough he supposed. Granted it wasn’t exactly a difficult philosophy to absorb. Don’t make assumptions based on appearances was about as subtle as a brick to the face.

It was also flatly untrue in the case of Archive.

The place looked exactly as one would expect from the outside. A fusion of university, temple, and office building, all coloured with the unmistakable touch of techne magic. Everywhere he looked, Nic saw rooms tuned to academic pursuits, from the lecture halls meant to seat dozens to small glass study cubes that could scarcely hold a handful. Machines were woven seamlessly into everything, built into the very walls themselves, leaning heavily towards the clockwork aesthetic Nic had noted but clearly far more advanced than the clanking gears implied. All of them radiated magical energies like a swirling tide, leaving Nic neck practically electrified with their ambient auras.

People were present throughout, diffused among the various spaces like blowing sand. Teachers lectured on every subject, their voices ranging from animated to droning, all muted by what Nic suspected was a magical effect to avoid interrupting one another. Others pursued more personal studies, working away at machines, or reading at one of the innumerable desks that lined a good portion of the chambers. Some walked about, speaking in small groups or to themselves as they puzzled over endless questions.

One curious detail it took Nic a moment to notice was the distinct lack of books. They were present of course, some rooms even dedicated to their storage, but nowhere near the numbers he would have expected for a place like this. Even more notable was that the ones he did see seemed to be placed in almost, worship? That seemed a strong word, but Nic could think of no more appropriate one.

Every book, no matter their size or style was placed in such a way that they were impossible to miss. The rooms of shelves were almost like shrines, their stacks arranged in sharp, angular patterns of impossible, needless precision. Entire workshops were arranged around just a single book, sitting in the middle of a casting circuit as if it were a holy relic. Even the reading rooms seemed to lack their namesake, the students reading exclusively from electronic screens, the only paper their own notebooks in which they occasionally scribbled.

Why all of this was Nic had no idea, and his guide wasn’t in the mood to let him figure it out. Whenever the young techne so much as slowed to get a better look at something, the bot would begin incessantly beeping until Nic resumed following.

Despite being barely larger than a fist, the bot nonetheless managed to make itself a significant obstacle, batting him rather un-gently until Nic had resumed the path. The thing had zero sense of humor and even less personality to make up for it. Nic almost caught himself wishing Zephyr had come along but that decision had been out of his hands. Apparently, the little sprite was banned for life from this place, on pain of ‘metaphysical disassembly’.

Neither Master Orlin nor Zephyr himself had been willing to explain further so Nic has simply filed that mystery for later snooping. In the here and now, Nic could only follow the bot along, getting more and more annoyed as they seemed to be getting nowhere.

“Hey, are we almost there?” Nic asked.

He should have expected the bot’s reaction, a mere beep as it sipped around yet another corner down yet another passage. Nic sighed as it vanished from sight, pushing himself forward into a sprint to keep up, not keen for another divebomb of disapproval. Hopefully the thing would wait for him to catch up after proving whatever point it was trying to make.

As he rounded the corner himself, Nic looked up to find that he was in luck and the bot was indeed hovering not far ahead. Though, less out of waiting for him and more because of the man hanging in its path.

He hung upside down from his ankle, held in the grip of a long hydraulic arm. He was older than Nic, probably in his twenties and dressed in a modified version of the same uniform everyone else in the building wore. Instead of red, his coat was blue, a vest visible beneath festooned with belts and pouches across his waist. Despite his predicament, the man seemed unbothered, his short hair not even ruffled as he flashed Nic an easy smile.

“Hi there,” he said.

“Uh, hi,” Nic replied, unsure if panic should be part of his response. “Are you okay?”

“Would you believe I’ve been worse?”

“…Yes?”

“Well, you’re a good sport then.” The man gestured off to one side. “Mind sparing me a hand? I can’t quite reach the release from here.”

“Uh, sure,” Nic said, walking over to where he had pointed. A boxy robot lay on its side there, its wheels still spinning away as they tried to find purchase. The arm holding the man captive was mounted to its back, the rest thankfully either inactive or grasping uselessly at the ground. It chirped much the same as his guide drone did, trying to carry out programming it could no longer physically achieve. Fortunately, its controls were still visible, a basic series of buttons on its back, now turned its side.

“The big silver one,” the man said, nodding as Nic pointed at a button near the top. “That’s the one, should let the pressure down.”

A sharp hiss sounded when Nic pressed the button, all the arms suddenly losing tension as the joints relaxed. The one holding the man was most strongly affected, his weight instantly pulling the arm down towards the floor. He fell properly when the claw released, managing to right himself and land on his feet. It didn’t stick as he quickly stumbled and fell over anyway, landing on his ass with a comical huff. In a flash he was back up, dusting himself down as if nothing had happened.

“Much obliged,” he said, extending a hand. “Jordan’s the name, Jordan Borges if I’m feeling fancy. You can call me Jordi.”

“Nicholas Greytower,” Nic said, shaking his hand. “What, um, what happened?”

“Excuse me?”

Nic pointed at the robot where it lay on the floor, its arms fallen to a heap around itself. “With that, how’d you end up hanging?”

“Oh that,” Jordi said, waving a dismissive hand as he walked over to his downed bot. “I was trying to reach something from up the top. Had a little mishap with the arm and, well, over I went.”

Nic glanced up at the wall. There was in fact a shelf there, one that stretched a good ten feet above the floor. How Jordi had hoped to use the arm in the way he described was not immediately clear but a fall from that height would have been bad. If anything, getting caught up by his ankle might have been the best possible outcome.

“Mishap?” Nic asked.

“Just a seize in the motor, nothing out of the ordinary,” Jordi gestured Nic closer. “Can I be a complete clod and ask for another hand? This old grump’s a bit on the chunky side.”

The robot gave a beep that could have been offense or simply its distress alert asking to be righted.

“Oh, quit whining, you know I don’t mean it,” Jordi said, bracing his shoulder against the side. Nic braced up next to him and on a count of three they pushed. Chunky turned out to be a severe understatement, their first effort barely nudging it off the floor.

“What is this thing made of?” Nic asked.

“Plasteel mostly,” Jordi said, bracing himself for another try. Nic started at that. Plasteel was a high-grade polymer, prized for its malleability when fresh and near indestructibility when cured. It was used in everything from the foundations of mega-scrapers to the base component in high impact tank armor. Not the kind of thing you just picked up on a whim to make a robot out of. 

Putting aside his confusion for the moment, Nic settled back into place as he and Jordi tried again. The second attempt went better, the two of them now prepared for the weight and able to get it lifted off the ground. The third try did the trick, tilting up and over to settle on the floor with a clattering crash. Momentum nearly sent the bot careening over the other way but thankfully it settled back on its wheels with a pleased beep.

“There we go,” Jordi announced with delight of his own. “Much obliged once again.”

“You’re welcome,” Nic said, taking a moment to look over the bot in more detail. The boxy design was far more literal than he’d currently thought, a large hatch on the top implying most of it was empty cargo space. The arms had already begun to fold back up into their docking ports along the sides, collapsing down to a third of their length. Sensor clusters and cameras sat dotted about its form at regular intervals, likely enough to grant a full three hundred and sixty degrees of awareness. High end stuff too, Nic recognizing some of it as offerings he’d drooled over it on many a ‘new releases’ page. Combine that with the whole plasteel thing and you had one very expensive robot.

“What is this thing?” he asked.

“This bucket of bolts? It’s a Cavalier Automated Transfer system, or CAT for short. Handy for carting stuff around, holding doors open and stopping a shelf from crushing you when it falls over out of nowhere.” Jordi patted the bot’s forward sensor cluster. “I call this old bucket Dewey.”

Dewey beeped in reply, possibly in happiness, Nic couldn’t tell. He decided not to press the issue for now and simply made an intrigued ‘huh’ sound.

“Anyway,” Jordi continued. “Now that I’m all sorted, what brings you to the forest of all knowledge?”

“Uh, my master sent me here, looking for the answer to a question?”

At the tacit mention of his assignment, the guide drone gave a sharp beep to remind them it was still there. The little bot had spent the whole time hovering nearby, impatiently waiting for Nic to continue following. Jordi ignored it completely as he kept on talking.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, what was the question?”

The guide drone beeped again, more insistently, prompting a glare from Jordi.

“Shush you, we’re having a conversation,” he turned back to Nic. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Uh, I’m trying to find out what the first spell ever cast was. By a techne, specifically.”

“Ah, an historical query, those are always fun.” He gestured off down the aisle. “No mystery on what section you’ll be after.”

“I guess it is kind of obvious, isn’t it?” Nic agreed.

“Oh, be careful with that word. Bad things tend to happen if you throw it around too much.”

“Uh, which word?”

“Obvious, obviously.”

Nic wanted to ask just what the hells that meant but the guide drone interrupted with a third and rather more severe beep. Jordi turned towards it and threw up his hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming you overgrown desk fan!” He turned back to Nic. “Come on, we’d better get going before it goes and tattles on us.”

“We?”

Jordi nodded. “I was heading to history anyway and the least I can do is give you some better company than yonder nanny bot.”

“Appreciated,” Nic said. “But it’s actually taking me to the Director’s office. Apparently, she wants to talk to me?”

Jordi’s eyebrows shot up, his smile taking on an intrigued, devious quality. “You don’t say.”

Nic nodded. “That’s what the front desk said.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Jordi said.

Before Nic could reply, Jordi spun on his heel and began to walk away. He paused only briefly, turning to gesture for Nic to follow.

“Well come on then, best not keep her waiting.”

*

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