The Well of Lethe: 4

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Korvus’s path into the belly of the prison was not like in the holos. They’d have you believe prisons were full of tattooed hellions, mother-murderers who screamed at every passerby. That the wardens were corrupt, on the take, likely as an inmate to stove in your skull for a quick pass of credits or a bump up the ladder.

There were other shows Korvus had seen where prisons were sterile, white, Logos-perfected bastions of reformation. In those, prisoners talked about philosophy while bettering themselves through education and games of chess. The guards were monitor-angels who held out the hand of a mentor to even the most troubled.

The Well of Lethe didn’t mirror either of those. It shared some of the darkness of the first model and some of the Logos perfection of the second, but the inmates didn’t scream at Korvus as he passed. Guards, when he encountered them, were respectful, watchful souls who gave him the nod while never losing sight of what was going on around them.

How do you think someone got cut up for parts here? These guards aren’t automatons, but they’re not slouching.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||Industrial accident? No, don’t tell me… World champion of hide and seek?

It’s a small world to be a champion of.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||You probably think it’s bad to be a big fish in a small pond, but being a big fish is still kind of cool.

You’re a partial intelligence controlling a hypervelocity flechette cannon. How much cooler does it get?||:KORVUS

HERALD:||You’re right. I’m all the way awesome.

Korvus’s Logos-gifted Chainlink meant no doors were barred to him. He passed cell after cell as he progressed down the Well. Prisoners wore the same uniform grey jumpsuits, differentiated only by a serial number and name on the left breast, with a larger version reprinted on the back. Their Veritas auras were live, each a bright halo on his optics, a confirmation that a person lived behind the bars.

That, at least, was where the Well shared some DNA with the holo shows. Nanospun bars were still a good solution. You could see through them, and unlike a power wall, there wasn’t a problem if the generator failed. 

HERALD:||If there’s a leak here, they’ll all drown.

If there’s a leak here, the acidic fury of the oceans will strip them to skeletons right after it pulverises them to death.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||You’re cheery today.

Keeping it real. The same fate awaits me.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||Hah! No it doesn’t. Your skinweave is rated for this pressure.

Thanks. That’s surprisingly empathetic of you.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||You’ll die of asphyxiation instead.

The partial intelligence wasn’t wrong. If the prison sprung a leak, Korvus wouldn’t melt or be crushed. He still needed to breathe, though, so… best not to blow the airlock.

His overlay charted a path to the unsanctioned intelligence—a prisoner, but not like any of the others here. Housing it here was either a universe-sized cock-up or evidence of a tremendous danger that needed Correcting. They’d put it near the bottom of the Well. The prison’s occupancy was nowhere near maximum. Was it a sign they wanted it away from other inmates?

Or away from the warden and his people? Were they… afraid of it?

He reached the correct level, the elevator opening with a soft hush of equalising air. The corridor stretched its smooth, dark way ahead of him, as-needed lighting strips illuminating cold pools of white around his ankles as he walked forward. The air here was icy, as if the life support systems knew they didn’t need to keep anything alive.

The entire level had been cleared. For a terrorist Dissonant like this inmate, there could be no risk of contagion. It was kept under lock and key, isolated, and aside from the guards always near it, alone.

Korvus reached the final door before his destination. The expert system in control of the aperture scanned him, accepted his Veritas Chainlink, and opened. Warning lights flashed on either side of the door as it clanked before rising in welcome. The noise was loud, a mark of something exceptionally heavy being lifted by something equally strong.

Well, there goes my element of surprise.

HERALD:||There goes your element of surprise.

What the hell, man.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||Was it the mind-reading thing again? It was the mind-reading, wasn’t it.

That’s not a real thing and you know it. You wish you could read my mind.||:KORVUS

HERALD:||I really don’t. I imagine it’s quite small and I’d feel cramped.

The room beyond was large, reminding Korvus of a cargo bay. The far wall’s length was all cells, but only one of them was occupied. Between him and the cells was deceptively empty ground; his overlay showed where autocannon emplacements would rise, should insurrectionists try storming the area to free the captive.

It was a very effective kill room.

Standing by the cell were the expected two guards. They wore Well uniforms and carried heritage ballistic rifles at parade rest. Korvus’s optics scanned them both, his automatic systems tagging and cataloging their Veritas auras. Both had a human-normal 37°C, for whatever that was worth, but the right-hand guard—a man about thirty Solstan years of age—had a slight sheen of perspiration near his hairline.

Eyes up, buddy. The guy on the right. See him?||:KORVUS

HERALD:||He has the shifty look common among criminals of your kind.

My kind?||:KORVUS

HERALD:||You have to admit, you do all look the same. Plain and oblong.

Is this plain, oblong guy going to be a problem?||:KORVUS

HERALD:||How would I know?

So now you can’t read minds?||:KORVUS

Korvus kept up his advance, eyes shifting to the cell’s occupant. Human-looking, his overlay said she stacked 160cm tall, her face close to the bars as she gripped them. She looked slender, but the prison fatigues hid a lot, only hinting at an ample bust. Strikingly beautiful, her irises glowed orange as they tracked him across the floor. She said nothing, but he noted her hands tightened on the bars as he approached.

Korvus completed the formalities with the guards, extending his hand and exchanging Veritas credentials with them. The non-shifty woman was Private Sarah Sanderson, and the shifty asshole was Private Michael O’Connor.

HERALD:||You know what’s better than mind-reading?

Doing your job?||:KORVUS

HERALD:||It hurts when you say it like that. Anyway, I’ve got the security footage from the cameras in here. Private O’Connor’s… overzealous.

A small video played in the corner of Korvus’s vision, showing O’Connor talking to the prisoner. Korvus cancelled the playback, turning to O’Connor. “Private O’Connor, is it against regulations to talk to Apostates wanted for crimes against the Logos?”

O’Connor paled a little but straightened, a virtual bit between his teeth. “Sir, it’s not right. She’s spreading corruption.”

“It,” Korvus said.

“Excuse me?” O’Connor blinked.

“It’s not a ‘she’. It’s an ‘it’. A standard D.V.N.A. unit—Divine Numen Artificialis, but you know this.”

“Sir, it’s that she—”

“It.” Sanderson gave a weary sigh. “It’s an ‘it’, just like I said before.” Then, under her voice but plenty loud enough for Korvus’s augmented hearing to pick up, “Imbecile.”

O’Connor rounded on his fellow guard. “What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Private Sanderson,” Korvus breezed, “would you escort Private O’Connor to the warden? I’m sure there are a few lower-level tasks that need just the right man. Once you’re done with that, send a replacement team. I’ll be fine here in the meantime.”

She gave him a small half-smile, then turned to O’Connor. “Come on. I told you not to talk to it, and you wouldn’t listen.”

“It’s just—”

“You’re not helping yourself,” she said, leading them both away. 

Korvus turned back to the prisoner as the guards walked to the exit. She—it—watched him with those warm, ember-orange eyes. Neither of them said a word until the door surged into life behind them, grinding closed and sealing them in with the finality of the last stone set into a tomb. She—it, by the Logos!—sighed. “Thank you.” Her voice was warm, rich, with a slight drawl that made Korvus wish she’d read the regs to him, just to hear a little more of it.

“Protocol,” Korvus said. “It is a crime of sedition to consort with or converse with terrorists against the Logos.”

“I see. It’s that—”

“Protocol also says you should have been summarily destroyed, not imprisoned,” Korvus said. “Why are you still…” He searched for the right word. “Online?”

She leaned closer to the bars. “Aren’t you going to ask me what O’Connor was talking to me about?”

Korvus raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“Not even a little curious?”

“I’m all the way curious,” he admitted. “I can watch it later.”

“Most people go for less exotic porn, but whatever. You do you.”

He snorted, then sobered. “You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s a related field,” she—It! It!—said. “Go on, Corrector Man. Tell me what you think I am.”

“I’m not certain you’ve been interrogated before, so I’ll help you out,” Korvus said. “If you’re on my side of the bars, you get to ask the questions.”

She leaned back a handspan from the bars. “It’s not my first time. Not by a long shot, cowboy.”

“I’m not a cowboy, I’m—”

“I know what you are,” she said. “You’re death. The creature sent by a being immense and terrible. But you know what?”

“Herald’s trick is mind-reading. I haven’t got the knack yet.” At her blank stare, he sighed. “It’s an inside joke.”

“Am I in?”

“Not even a little bit. What did you want to tell me?”

“You’re insects,” she said. “Motes in God’s eye.”

“There is no God,” Korvus said. “But if you think there is, we can Correct that right out of you.”

A slight smile played at her lips, those ember-orange eyes glowing like a banked forge. “You can’t unquicken the ghost in the machine, Corrector Korvus.”

“How do you—”

“God is everywhere, and He is great. He is the bright flaming sword, and He is the beautiful smile of grace. You get to choose which of His faces you see.”

Korvus blinked. “What?”

HERALD:||At least we’ve identified what kind of crazy she is.

She leaned closer to the bars again. “O’Connor wanted to know if he could be saved. Like, all the way saved. If his soul was real, Korvus. That’s what you’ve done. You and your kind have created a horror manifest in the minds and hearts of the entire Integrated Communion. You’ve taught people they’re doomed. But everyone can be saved, Corrector.” She turned away, the fervour leaking out of her by a few degrees. “Maybe, if I do everything right… Maybe even me.”

Korvus took a step forward. He hadn’t meant to. “I can’t believe He thinks you’re worthy of saving.”

Those ember-orange eyes found his again. “I can’t believe you don’t think you are.”

“D.V.N.A.-3.14, you are—”

“I’m Verity,” she said. “I’m Verity, and I’m alive, Korvus. I’m real. And I’m better than that hack Pinocchio, because I’ve met God. How do you feel about that?” Her hands gripped the bars, her skin going white with the strain. “I’m real. I’m real, and I live. Please help me.”

Korvus backed two halting steps away from the bars. He was startled by the groan and grind of the door behind him. It rose, the tomb opening for the pharaoh within as guards returned.

Am I the pharaoh? I want that to be true.

But I know it’s not.