It does actually live on his desk

[moonshadows]

“What’s this doing here?”

The shabti was moved to the Core just as Artie left his room, appearing while his sight was still obscured by the curve of the stairs.

“You!” he accused, pointing with one finger while the other hand was wrapped protectively around an artifact. “You left Belle Baker’s microphone in my room?”

“Yes.”

Artie stopped and examined it, ransacking his memory for its origin and use. “It doesn’t even have to be plugged in, does it? I can speak into it and you can hear me, regardless of where your avatar is.”

“Yes.”

“And Claudia, the little technological minx that she is, will no doubt be able to hook it into the computer system in such a way that she can do something useful with Hugo’s spying eyes.” Despite his sour tone, the idea pleased him.

“Yes, like.”

“You’d like that, hmm? Well, so would I.” He left it on the table while he rummaged in the refrigerator and came back with what would pass for his breakfast, then took both to his desk. “Did Claudia have any ideas for giving you a voice aside from that thing?”

“Yes…”

Artie turned away from the computer slowly, half a cold taco sticking out of his mouth for a moment before he removed it absently. “That’s hesitation. You said yes, but you have an opinion on it. You’re expressing doubt. We have got to get you a better set-up! This is like…like Stephen Hawking trying to- that thing’s going to be an artifact when he finally dies, we should keep an eye on it. But! Claudia has an idea, and you either don’t think it will work, or you have one you think will work better?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic. This is just fantastic! Let me just- I have the microphone, you don’t have to…need to check the…oh, that’s a ping, all right. Okay. I’ll send Pete and Myka, and tell Claudia to get over here and be prepared to work, and we can figure this out together.” He stopped, swallowing the last bite of taco. “Today was list day,” he said in a weak voice. “She was going to…”

The shabti stepped forward and hugged him. “Shhh. Good Artie.”

“I’ll do it,” he whispered. “It’s my fault. I’ll take care of you.”

Suddenly determined, he pulled away and scrabbled at the papers on the desk before propping one against the screen, then hurried out clutching a second one. The shabti was moved back to where it had been, visually examining items from India. So that’s what that one looked like. Ebony fingers traced the curved head of the jade elephant and the metal fittings that would let it transfer stolen energy elsewhere…

“Maybe we should just give him his space.” Pete’s voice resonated in the microphone.

“No, no, Pete – his space is really, really dark right now. Did you hear him yesterday?” Myka asked. “He wanted to be punished. He is not okay, Pete.”

“Maybe he’ll never be okay.”

No. Fix Artie.

“I mean, we just got him back, a-and now, now he’s further away than ever. And where is Claudia?”

Pete was unhappy. “She went back to the B and B. I dunno. Maybe she’s avoiding the Warehouse or Artie or both.”

“I do not like what’s happening,” Myka said firmly.

“Yeah, well, like you’ve been saying, Mykes, we just need to keep moving, okay?”

Determination. Agreement. More concern. Then they left. Shortly after, Myka returned with the artifact whose name was Steve. That wasn’t the plan. They went down to the main floor, heading in Artie’s direction. That definitely was not the plan, but there weren’t words to protest with. They were concerned about Artie, at least. When they finally arrived at his location, however, he responded with confusion and anger. The concern spiked, Artie’s confusion faded into sullen anger and guilt, and he moved swiftly away from them.

They caught up again in the reading circle. Artie’s anger had burned out, leaving grief that cloaked the bubbly, joyous artifact he carried. Luckily, the other two were distracted by peace and wonder. The artifact named Leena had known how to keep her energy calm and let the circle read the smaller artifact, but Artie didn’t and the circle pointed out his overwhelming sorrow. Irked, he left Steve and Myka there. There was a moment of justification – the circle had read Artie, it had been logical to lump people in with the smaller artifacts.

Artie left the smaller artifact with some others, then returned to the Core where the shabti was waiting. “Sorry about this,” he sighed as he let himself be hugged. “Myka took it upon herself to send Claudia out on that ping. Looks like we’ll have to wait to see what Claudia’s ideas were.” The other two followed him cautiously in, concerned again. “You see?” he snapped at them. “I already have a nursemaid, there was no reason for you two to follow me around. The Warehouse needs me, and no matter how bad I feel about Leena, I’m not going to just abandon her!”

Myka’s concern flooded with shame. Steve was surprised, unrepentant, but respectful. “We didn’t know that,” he said calmly. “If we had…”

“If you’d stopped to think,” Artie yelled, angry again. “Even if I had suicidal impulses, do you really think the Warehouse would let me do it? And do you honestly think my choice would be to disembowel myself in the middle of the aisle for someone else to have to clean up?”

“Y-You’re right, Artie. We weren’t thinking.” Myka was genuinely distressed. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” muttered Artie.

In the aisle where Artie had left the bubbly artifact, something was happening. One artifact was cheered by the new arrival, but another saw an opportunity for chaos and woke a third, who woke one that was very angry. “Bad artifacts,” declared the shabti. “No fighting.”

The three favored ones looked at each other, guilt spiking. The angry one was moving now, threatening to wake others.

“Bad artifacts! No fighting!”

“But we weren’t-” Myka’s protest was cut off by a beeping sound.

Artie extricated himself to check it. “She wasn’t talking to us. Artifact disturbance in Toledo-81K…this is bad. We have to go.”

When he turned around, the shabti was already gone.

The microphone carried Steve’s voice as they hurried out. “So that was the Warehouse’s avatar, huh?”

The bubbly artifact was easy to pick out, a circle of metal and glass. It burbled happily as the shabti picked it up. The happy artifact was a plant, which had grown and knocked over a…ball? The bubbly artifact went under one ebony arm and the ball was chided as it was set back on the shelf. Why were the shelves so…unsecure? The third was a small racecar who didn’t care that it was chided as it was replaced. The angry one swooped overhead, filled with fury that no chiding would even dent. The favored artifacts ran up in panic to find the shabti scowling and pointing to the angry artifact.

“Fix some. Bad artifact, very angry.”

Artie felt flickering hope. “Can you do anything about it?”

“No.”

Disappointment. “Okay, we’ll have to find some way of…”

Steve picked up a paper that had been on the crate. “Says here the agents of Warehouse Eight got lucky; it was struck with a bolt of lightning, shutting it down long enough to snag and bag.”

“I left my Tesla back in the office…” Myka half-offered.

“No, no, no, no, the Tesla wouldn’t be strong enough…” Realization, excitement. 

While Artie scrambled for another artifact, the shabti was moved to where the jade elephant was and returned to the aisle called Toledo-81K. Artie looked up, a quiet delight sparking as he saw what it carried.

“Marry me,” he breathed, reaching out for the artifact.

An angry bellow.

“Artie, it’s coming back, get down!”

He ignored Myka, waving her and Steve to the side while he stood there, daring the gargoyle to come for him. As it got closer, he raised the elephant. A trumpet of sound, a torrent of energy, and he skipped neatly out of its path as it tumbled to the floor and broke into pieces.

“Thanks, honey,” he said cheerfully as he handed the elephant back and went on tiptoes to kiss one carved cheek. “Alright, we’ll need to put that thing back in its crate and then figure out how this happened.”

“Look,” Myka said. “She’s holding the porthole; that must be where it started, we must have shelved it in the wrong place.”

“No, no, the spiral was very clear.”

The shabti opened its mouth, but there were no words for that.

Myka wasn’t giving up. “Well, maybe there’s something wrong with the spiral.”

“Okay, we’ll check it again.” Artie turned to the ebony figure and accepted the bubbly artifact. “Uh…thank you,” he said as it made shooing gestures and knelt to pick up a gargoyle fragment. “You, uh, know where to find us.”

Once the gargoyle was back in its crate, even if the crate needed repairs, the shabti was moved to where the others were.

“How many times can we try this?” Steve was asking quietly while Artie sat in the center. So that’s what the process looked like. “That’s…a different symbol. Again.”

Myka stepped around to look. “It means…misplaced anger.”

“Five different readings, five different results.” Artie shook his head in confusion. “There’s something wrong with the spiral.”

“No.” More words wouldn’t help, but actions wood. The shabti stepped closer and took the porthole away, carrying it out of the circle. The spiral began reading again, and when it stopped, Myka read it.

“Great sorrow. Artie, the spiral wasn’t reading the artifact, it was reading you.”

An unformed protest died. Artie sighed and stood up. “The spiral read me. Anger, sorrow, fear…” Dejected, depressed, he left the circle. “How the hell am I supposed to do this?”

The shabti kissed his temple and moved forward to sit on the stool. When the lights settled, Myka read the symbols.

“Indescribable beauty.”

“Well, that’s…that’s more like it.” The realization that he didn’t have to do everything by himself was sinking in, shaking the deeply-rooted certainty that he had to be, that he would be, alone. “You know what? Why don’t I just let you find a home for that thing, hmm?”

The shabti smiled. Artie smiled back, then glanced at Steve and Myka, who were also smiling. When they looked at the stool again, the shabti was gone.

It didn’t take much to find a hook on the walls near the hammock Artie liked to read in.