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                Now that I had a partner, such as he was, I needed to keep

him occupied during down time. I chose him largely because he was good with his

hands. I had old equipment sitting around, and while I didn't think he could

necessarily handle it any better than I could, I was positive there was no one

else around that could even begin to think about it. You see, the entire

Guardian Industries complex belonged to me. Don't ask me why. I'm fairly

certain I'll spill the beans on that bit of luck later on.

                After I

kicked his boy-toy out, I was more willing to allow him access to the rest of

the warehouse.  I didn't want just anyone

having run of the place. All I needed was the Brotherhood coming down on me. It

wasn't that I couldn't handle them, merely that an all out war wasn't going to

benefit anyone. OK, so I wasn't equipped to take on an army. They kept a low

profile when it came to being armed, but I knew damn well they had be

confiscating weapons for centuries. I doubted the melted them down for scrap!

                I

flipped on the switches that lit up the warehouse. It took a moment for the

power to wake up and flow through the wiring. Lights began flickering on

randomly before they got into sync. By the time the last one was lit, Bolshoi

was a quivering mess on the floor of the balcony. I suppose the sight of

thousands of pieces of outlawed old-tech was a little overwhelming.  Add to that hundreds of crates, boxes and

canisters, well...

                I let

him get himself in order before we headed down the stairs. The first thing I

wanted him to do was look over my cycle. It as a sharp piece of work and I

doubted there was another intact one in the city. As it was, most of the

original parts had been replaced with brass and copper ones. The new cycles

were all hydrocarbon fuel based, a new fangled thing some bright boy had found

to do with the bubbling black springs to the south, past the giant shield of

rock The Hub sat on. This was an old protean drive model, probably around five

to seven hundred years old. The drive was a multivariable, dual crystal, ion

exchange power plant that was self-renewing. It operated on the same principle

as the warehouse itself. The problem was parts. The warehouse probably had

them, but quite honestly, I had no desire to root around myself. It was boring

and I didn't like boring things.

                Bolshoi

was walking around like a kid in a candy shop. His fingers traveled across the

copper and brass parts like he was in a dream. He never said a word, just kept

walking, looking and touching.  We

wandered for over an hour, going ever deeper into the bowels of the building.

At one point we went farther than I had ever bothered going in my entire life.

To be honest, I just wasn't that curious. The factory had been in operation for

so long even my father couldn't remember it running. If I had been, I might

have found what we were about to find, and it was a good thing I hadn't found

it alone. I probably would have put my fist into it.

                It all

started when he found a crate marked as possibly holding parts for the bike. I

pulled the ones from on top and tossed them to the side so we could get to the

one we wanted. In doing so we uncovered a door. Now an unknown door wasn't very

frightening, but I was still cautious. Someone seemed to have gone out of their

way to block it off.

                Bolshoi

tried the handle, only to discover it locked. That never stopped me. I gripped

it and tore it loose from its moorings. Inside the room nothing was visible. I

reached through the doorway and fumbled for a switch. My thick fingers tripped

across a plate and I gave it a push. It took a moment for the lights to whir to

life. A few units popped on and off like a lightning storm before they

stabilized.

                The

room as filled with equipment of a style that didn't even register on my brain.

It was seemingly here as storage, but was placed in a functional order. Bolshoi

let out a high pitched yelp of excitement. It caught me off guard and I nearly

punched him.

                "Chill

foxy boy. I have no idea just what the hell this is all about. It has nothing

to do with Guardian. It can't. Look, the tags say something else." I brushed my

fingers across the console, dislodging centuries of dust. There was an ID tag

molded right into the framework. I don't know what I was expecting, but the

three letters spelled out G.O.D.  

                Bolshoi

was literally crawling over the stuff. "Does it still work?"               

                It was

a stupid question. I bashed my fist on the wall next to me. "How the hell

should I know? Until a few minutes ago I didn't know this room was here!"

                Apparently

my fist did something best left undone. I hit the power panel. A few sparks

flew from the unit before the machinery began humming to life. Lights appeared

from under the layers of dust. Operating fans kicked in, blowing clouds of dust

into the air. I was preparing to retreat when another group of fans sprang to

life, sucking the dust to who knew where.  I looked over to my partner to find him

standing in total disbelief.

                "Veracity...this

shouldn't be here."

                "Where

the hell should it be? And for that matter, what is it?"

                "It

can't be what I think it is. There's no way it could be. I saw it in a book

once. But it's impossible." He was going to have to tell me where he found a

book of sufficient age to explain this. The Brotherhood had gone out of its way

to wipe the original texts from public viewing.

                "Fine!

It's impossible. Great! So what the hell is it?"

                He

didn't answer. Instead, he brushed the dust off, watching as it was sucked into

some invisible air handlers. One of the machines had a circular black panel on

top. As his hand ran across it the machine lit up even brighter. He jumped back

like it had bit him. I just chuckled.

                "What's

the matter little one? Afraid of the big bad machine?" I continued to wipe away

the dust. As my hand passed over the disc, it became frozen in place. A voice

came from the machine. "Please hold while your recognition scan is complete."

Despite my strength, I couldn't move my arm. It lasted just long enough for me

to be engaged in pulling with all my might when it let go. Needless to say, I

went flying to the floor in a heap. My partner snickered.

                I was

pissed enough to grab him up and force his hand on the machine. He yipped when

the thing got a hold of him. Whatever the field was it was enough to keep him

in place while I let go. If I couldn't move, neither would he. The machine

repeated the same monotone warning it had for me. This time when it let go, it

was his turn to get dumped on the floor.

                We both

stared at the machine as it hummed to life. It kept repeating the same word

over and over, "calculating, calculating, calculating." After a few minutes of

this I spoke to the room in general. "If all this thing is going to do is talk,

I think I'd prefer it to shut up!"

The voice stopped momentarily only

to pose a question. "Input. Desire for unit to continue in silent mode?"

                I

wasn't certain about that, but it sounded good to me. "Uh...yes?"

                "Unit

will continue to process data until present queue is examined and categorized.

Desire to open frequency channels prior to obtaining results?"

                "Uh...sure?"

I stammered.

                "Compliance."

                Another

part of the machine sprang to life. Bolshoi seemed to have gotten his courage

back, returning to dusting off the console. As he did, a series of lights

embedded in the unit glowed red. "What did I just do?"

                "Like I

have any idea what you just did. Maybe we should quit messing with this stuff,

turn it all back off and act like we never found it." I wasn't afraid, just

naturally cautious. Like I said, someone seemed to have hidden this away for a

reason.

                The

little fool was examining the face of the control panel. Instead of having

brass switches, it was a flat opaque plate with the light coming up from

somewhere inside the machine. "I read about this in a book I found, an ancient

book that had indestructible pages. It isn't like any of the paper ones they've

made for the past few hundred years. This thing is a communicator."

                I had

communicators. None of them were monsters like this. What was the point in

having something you couldn't carry around with you? "A communicator to where?

This thing is huge!"

                He

tried fiddling with the controls. Nothing happened immediately. The machine

spoke up again. "Controls locked pending verification."

                "Verification

of what?" I spouted at the contraption.

                "Verification

of proper DNA sequencing. Use of this terminal is restricted to users

authorized by the Prime Originator. Only Prime designates may use the terminal.

Verification is presently seventy three percent complete on the first

subject." 

                So much

for this thing shutting up. I was going to ask it another question, but figured

that seventy three percent of whatever it was doing meant it was almost done.

There was no point in getting it mad at me. Bolshoi apparently had no such

qualms.

                "What

is the purpose of this device?"

                The

machine whirred to life again. "Designated purpose of G.O.D. Communicator is to

contact Prime Originator."

                It was

rare that I felt fear. The feeling was creeping up my backbone. I had a few

questions of my own. "Who is this Originator?

                The

machine seemed to be thinking on it. "Limited database without authorization.

Authorization pending. Authorization pending..."

                Bolshoi

was shaking with excitement. "Do you realize what this means? It means all the

ancient tales are true. There is a God!"

                I

snorted, recovering some of my usual demeanor. "According to the Brotherhood,

the only way to God is through them. Are you trying to tell me that this hunk

of metal will do it instead?"

                The

machine lit up like a meteor in the night sky. "Verification complete.

Designation Equial, bipedal; intelligence ranking, Prime. Biology ranking,

Prime. Gender, male. DNA results show seventh generational changes from

original concept. Life signs show above average evolution. Twenty percent mass increase

from original concept." It went quiet for a moment. "Please input data. Name?"

                I

wasn't sure what to tell it, so I told it the truth. "Veracity Harms."

                "Subject

Veracity Harms now has access to all G.O.D. 

files and protocols. Do you wish to make an informational request?"

                "Sure.

Who the hell invented you? And who is this God person? Personally I never

believed he existed."

                "G.O.D.

files are extensive. Please narrow down the scope of your request."

                "Narrow

down? Sure. How about if I just ask him myself?" I thought I was being really

clever. I'd show this machine what for!"

                "Request

accepted. Tuning long range frequencies. Finding the antenna array. Testing

circuits. This will require time to retune the array for proper subspace

channels. Please stand by."

                I

wasn't a coward, but even I knew that I had just overstepped my bounds. No one

talked to God! Well, I suppose you could talk to him, but it seemed like I was

going to "talk" with him. It made me feel small inside. That's no easy thing to

do.

                The machine hummed for a while,

once in a while making crackling noises. Sounds echoes from the warehouse.

Creaks and groans of things long silent made eerie noises. They stopped. The

voice came back. "Channels now tuned. Preference?"

                "Preference

for what you stupid machine?"

                "Preference

for available channels? This unit has ten million, four hundred thousand eight

hundred and sixty five available channels. It has a single line wavelength

designation of two two three point seven one five point six nine zero seven."

                "Just

do what you think is best." I said with as little emotion as I could. I was

thankful my partner was keeping his yap shut. I was growing concerned, and that

made me jittery. When I was jittery, bad things happened.

                "Affirmative.

Broadcasting on designated frequency. Please wait for confirmation."

                And

wait we did. I was getting hungry and so was he.  We hadn't figured on being down here this

long. Now I didn't want to miss anything, and he would likely get lost, so we

sat with empty stomachs and growing expectations. I grumbled about the lack of

food, to which Bolshoi replied, "Why don't you ask the machine?"

                It

wasn't going to hurt. "Hey machine! Ya got any food?"

                Up came

that monotone voice. "Food, designated protein packets, can be found in locker

designated F.S. one four three on sublevel two."

                That

was news to me. I've lived here my whole life and never knew there was a

sublevel two. I doubted the food would be any good anymore. It was a matter of

going back to my living quarters or sitting here hungry. I sat where I was.

Besides, if things got too bad, I could always eat my Vulp friend. Don't worry,

I'm just kidding! Still...

                We were

startled out of the silence of our thoughts by the machine announcing,

"Designated contact source found. Designated recipient is located at zero point

five five zero nine Gamma. Waiting for confirmation from onboard communication

computer."

                I had

no idea what any of that meant.  The

machine lit up and went into a frenzy of activity. "System upgrade is in

progress. Host computer is performing software overwrite. Host computer is

overriding original protocols. System reboot necessary." Then the damn thing

shut down. The lights went dead, the humming stopped and...nothing.

                I was

pissed. "I've been down here starving to death for hours waiting on this thing

to turn itself off?" Bolshoi shrugged. He wasn't as vocal in his

disappointment, but it was still evident. 

That was when I noticed a single blue light blinking. It was still

alive, if that was the correct word for it.

                The

lights came on again. A new voice came across. It was decidedly female. "System

reboot and new system configuration complete. Please state your name."

                Stupid

machine. "Veracity Harms."

                "Verified.

Please wait while contact is established with Prime Originator."

                I've

never shit my pants, but I nearly did at those words. Unless this was some old,

elaborate hoax that had been sitting here in the dark for nearly five hundred

years, I was going to be talking with the one who created everything and

everyone!

                The

next voice to come through the machine was initially flat toned, though

distinctly male. It sounded confused. "This signal originates from System M

Nine Zeta Six Six. Loss of signal occurred nearly 500 solar years  ago local time. Must be errant equipment power-up

and error."

                Bolshoi

leaned into the microphone and spoke. "Helllooooo?"

                There

was a delay. "Well by all that's holy and that which is not! Is there still

life on my Great Experiment?"