moonshadows

Claudia led the shabti down aisles, determination trailing in her wake along with thrills of uncertainty-laced excitement.

“This is so cool. I don’t know where to start! You’re actually the Warehouse, and now you have a body and you can…can see…and hear, and speak, and walk around and touch things and wow, I am babbling but you know that about me, don’t you?”

Carved lips curved faintly. “Yes.”

“Yeah, I figured you did. Man, I wish you had a better linguistic center, but all the knowledge of language in the world isn’t going to do a thing if you don’t have the structures in place to translate your thoughts into words at all, much less English ones. Now, I figure you’ve got decades of passive listening experience, but until today, you haven’t had ears, right? So maybe you’ve heard the sounds in some other way, subtle vibrations in emotions, but you’re just now learning the sounds that went with those vibrations and you could probably communicate very eloquently if we just knew how to listen but-”

“No.”

Claudia stopped dead. “No?” Apprehension, pity, and horror welled up. “No?”

There wasn’t really an appropriate answer to that.

“Wait, wait. You’re saying that this isn’t just a simple translation issue, you’re actually not used to communicating at all.”

“Yes.”

She gaped, indignation and fury joining the horror. “How? I mean – how old are you? Wait, scratch that,” she added as the shabti’s mouth opened but nothing came out. “Okay, discounting anything from Warehouse Two, what’s the first thing you remember?”

Cool determination, cold fury coiled down deep, curling around, aimed outward. Responsibility, acceptance of a burden, anger not at the burden, not at having had it thrust upon her or having to catch it as it fell, but at the ones who had let it fall.

“Caretaker.” Clarification was necessary; favored artifacts had names, Caretaker had a name. “Mrs. Frederic.”

Eyes widened, then narrowed. “Your first memory is Mrs. Frederic becoming the Caretaker?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so you’re over a hundred years old and you’ve been in constant contact with her mind, right?”

“Yes.”

“…so what, does she not talk to you? No, don’t answer that.” Claudia began walking again, fast, as if she could outpace her anger or manually turn the wheels of thought. The shabti followed. “That’s your first memory, you had constant contact with her, she’d know anything you wanted to communicate before you had to try to communicate it. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“But Warehouse Two didn’t seem to have any trouble communicating through Mrs. Frederic, even if it was simple concepts, despite having no one to talk to for two thousand years.”

No wasn’t a clear enough answer, but that was a misconception that had to be corrected. One ebony hand grabbed Claudia’s shoulder and when she turned, the shabti shook its head.

“Okay,” Claudia said slowly. “If I was wrong, you’d say no, so…I’m not wrong, but I’m not quite right, either. Warehouse Two…was not aware for those two thousand years? Is that right?”

“Yes.”

She grinned. “Look at you, improvising like that! So. Warehouse Two wasn’t aware of time passing, but if I’m remembering my history lessons it was about three hundred years old so maybe it had to learn to talk just like you.” The grin faded. “Warehouse Two nearly killed Mrs. Frederic by overloading her brain. Dr. Vanessa was going to transfer the Caretaker bond to me.”

“Like Claudia.”

Pleasure bubbled up, but soured into uncertainty. “Uh…how long have you liked me?”

Ebony lips curved into another smile. “Knock knock.”

Surprised laughter, delight, fear. Claudia put her hands on her head and spun a slow circle of disbelief. “I hacked you,” she protested. “I broke in…”

The shabti shook its head again.

“…you let me?”

“Yes. Like Claudia.”

“That…is terrifying and amazing and actually explains a whole lot, now that I think about it.” Nervous laughter. “You probably have protections that could have fried my brain or my motherboard and have nothing to do with firewalls and exploits.”

“Yes.”

She winced. “…did it…hurt? I mean, I know I didn’t know you were…you…and I kinda took some liberties with…” Horror as the ebony figure opened its mouth, hands covered hers briefly. “It did! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!”

The shabti hugged her. “Shh. Good Claudia.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No.”

Guilt. Claudia pulled free to look into the carved face. “Why?”

That seemed like the appropriate answer. “Why?”

“No, that’s what I asked you.” She paused. “Wait…are you saying you don’t see a reason for being angry?”

“…yes?”

“Were you angry?”

“No.”

The guilt had transmuted into curiosity. “Have you ever been angry?”

Explosions; terror, despair, quiet regrets and then…peace as Artie’s bubbling energy stilled…

“Yes.”

Claudia took a step back, eyes wide with fear. “Whoa. You’re scary when you’re angry. What, uh, made you angry?”

Ebony lips curled back into a feral snarl. “Bad artifact broke Artie. Like Artie.”

“MacPherson,” Claudia whispered. “Wow. Yeah, I can see where you’d be just a smidge pissed about that. But hey, he’s dead so…yay for that, right?” She held both hands thumbs-up, still wary and hoping to appease the anger that intimidated her.

“Yes. Good artifact broke bad artifact.”

“Hey, careful,” she teased. “You just came perilously close to a full sentence, and I don’t just mean something with a subject and a verb.” Fear forgotten, she resumed her walk. “As I was saying before we segued into the realm of Caretaker-ness and memory, you’re just now learning what speech sounds like the way we hear it. I bet you can tell what’s going on in Artie’s office, but not what’s being said. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so you can’t really hear us and we can’t hear you. I’m thinking…we need to change that. Hugo had some pretty rad hardware stashed away in his lab…if we can find a way to hook that data input into something you can process…they’re all over, you’d have eyes and ears everywhere and you’d be able to talk to us – assuming we get you up to speed on the whole language thing. That might be a little advanced for the moment, though. It’s more of an end-game scenario. Eventually, I want to see you hooked up with some sweet holographic projection, or maybe we could pimp out Ms. Grave Goods over here, but for starters we still need to wrangle some way of letting you listen and talk without the shabti. Low profile, you know?”

Claudia paused in front of a door, opened it, led the way inside. The shabti followed, carved eyes providing shapes and textures as they had in the Core.

“Behold, Hugo Miller’s lab,” she said grandly. “So, hey, when we tried to upgrade your systems and accidentally woke up Hugo One because the new system didn’t come online…why didn’t the new system come online?”

“Not tame.”

She took a moment to process that. “Not tame. You mean…wait, normal objects don’t have the kind of tangential energy that artifacts do, but not everything we use here is an artifact and I have noticed that the old-timey stuff works a lot better than it should. If tangential energy follows the same physics as other kinds of energy…” Her eyes widened as the pleasure of finding a solution coursed through her. “Of course! Until something’s been here long enough to become integrated into your energy field, it’s basically fighting to get past a crapton of EMI! That’s why we have so many system glitches with everything, and why Artie still uses programming so old it was probably chiseled onto a stone tablet.”

Amusement, so similar to Artie’s that mimicry was inevitable. “Not that old.”

It wasn’t lost on Claudia. “Hey, that’s a pretty good impression of Artie! Now I can’t decide whether to tell him that the Warehouse comprehends satire, or spare him from the humiliation of having been gently mocked by one of the few living things older than he is.”

More amusement, and gentle chiding. “No fighting. Good artifacts.”

“Nah, it’s okay, he knows I just give him a hard time because I love him.” She paused. “On second thought? I think I’m going to make absolutely sure he knows that. I haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to him since, y’know, stabbing him in the chest with a dagger that drove out the evil in him and then forcing my way into his subconscious to haul him back out into the land of the living against his will.”

Claudia shoved her hands in her pockets, guilt and sorrow curdling with fear of being hated and fear of abandonment. When the shabti hugged her, she hugged back desperately.

“Claudia good artifact. Protect artifacts. Good…” Words were clumsy and useless. “Good next-Caretaker.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered thickly through tears. “Scared I didn’t do the right thing, scared I won’t do the right thing, scared I’m going to mess it all up and scared I’ll lose the ones I care about.”

“Artie break, bad. Tame artifact. Like Artie. Claudia good, fix artifact.”

She sniffled. “You’re saying you didn’t want Artie to die because you care about him, and that I did the right thing and helped him.”

“Yes.”

“You can feel emotional states, right? Is he…mad at me for what I did?”

In the Core, the excitement had worn off and Artie was gnawing at itself, yearning for reconnection with the other favored artifacts, craving the bonds that had been damaged by the bad artifact. Guilt was starting to trickle through; self-loathing wouldn’t be far away. The shabti could be moved to the Core easily enough, but Claudia couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. Still…they both had communicate-with-others artifacts, and Artie was alone in the Core.

“Artifact.” Ebony fingers reached gently for the item, tapping it. Claudia got the hint and took it out.

“You want me to call Artie?”

How did this thing work? “Yes.”

Claudia manipulated it; the connection opened. “Please tell me you didn’t run into a problem,” it barked gruffly.

“No, Artie, no problems. Just, uh, I got asked to give you a buzz.”

The tiny image of the favorite artifact reflected the surprise of the original. “Really? She asked you to…I’d ask why but you probably don’t know.” Its expression softened, guilt flickering briefly. “You felt my emotional state, didn’t you,” it said quietly.

“Look, Artie…” Claudia bit her lip, uncertain and afraid, then took a deep breath. “She didn’t want you to die because she cares about you, and I know I give you a hard time but I care about you too which is why I did it and I’m sorry if you hate me for it but you’re the only father I’ve ever really known and I couldn’t let you die like that so if you’re mad at me, fine, at least you’re alive to be mad.” She closed her eyes and looked away, braced for the worst.

Surprise and concern. “Kiddo, you’re going to have to do a lot worse than that if you want to drive me away. I have loved you like a daughter since the day you put me in electrified handcuffs and kidnapped me. If anything, I…” Sorrow and guilt spiked. “I…was afraid that I’d driven you, driven all of you away.”

“You couldn’t get rid of me by hiding in the Warehouse, what makes you think I’m going to let a little extra grumpiness shake me?”

Artie smiled faintly. “Well, you know, senility. Thank you. For-for caring. For…doing what needed to be done.”

“Hey, you know…” Shaky from grief, fear, and relief, Claudia laughed. “Next time you need someone to stab you in the chest, you know who to call.”

“And the next time I’m catatonic from emotional distress, you know I won’t keep you out. Can’t, really. I can’t- I won’t let you- I made a promise, to you, and I didn’t keep it and that’s my fault, those twelve years are my fault, I dropped the ball. But I also made one to your brother, that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and that one, I’ll keep if it kills me.”

“Oh, you are so asking for it, buster,” she blustered, feigning anger to stave off tears. “As soon as I get back up there, you are getting the hug of your life. I’m going to hug the…hug the crankiness right out of you!”

The tiny image of Artie smiled faintly. “Please don’t, I need that to maintain my reputation as a crotchety old fossil. How about you just hug me until the crankiness compresses into a crystal of pure irritability, which I can then tie to a stick and use to stab my enemies?”

Claudia snorted. “Please, then we’d have to snag it and bag it and I don’t even want to know where we’d shelve that thing.”

“Corfu seven-eighty-three, next to the Arrow of Achilles.”

“How do you even keep all that straight?”

“Well, you know, you spend thirty-five years in this place and you get…”

“Tame.”

Both artifacts, startled, looked at the shabti.

“Yeah, um, she did say you were a tame artifact, and there was some – you know what? We can talk about that later. Maybe over warm oatmeal scotchies?”

Sorrow and loss sang through Artie, but it was an invitation to healing and moving on that it intended to accept. “Sounds good. Remember, no repurposing anything until you pass it by me first.”

“I make no promises,” Claudia teased as she cut the connection. Then she tucked the artifact back away and rubbed her hands gleefully. “Alright, let’s start brainstorming ways to get you ears and a voice without having to rely on this thing. Just in case. And after that, if the coast still isn’t clear, maybe we can teach you some more words and concepts and the difference between artifacts and people.”

Ebony lips curved deliberately. “Good artifact.”