Melpomene (PJO)

19. The man, the myth, the let-down

Mari almost dropped her sword in shock. She wanted to believe that Quintus was lying. If he was telling the truth, then this whole quest had been for nothing. She'd gone into the labyrinth for nothing, and been at the Triple A Ranch for nothing. Mason had died for nothing! But her instincts thrummed with confirmation - it was true. Mari clenched her fists. Qui- no, Daedalus had a lot to answer for.

"But you don't even look like Daedalus!" Percy pointed out. "I saw him in a dream, and..." Percy trailed off, comprehension dawning in his eyes.

"Yes," Daedalus smiled. "You've finally guessed the truth."

"You're an automaton," Percy said. "You've made yourself a new body."

Mari looked to one of the workbenches, where detailed plans were strewn across the surface, papers and measuring tapes sticking out in every direction. She hadn't paid attention to what those plans were before, but now she was looking. There were diagrams of arms, legs, even eyeballs, with detailed illustration of where the cogs would go, and how the wires would simulate the nervous system... oh gods. This was an Elon Musk level of horrifying.

"Percy." Annabeth shook her head. "That's not possible. That - that can't be an automaton."

Daedalus laughed. "Do you know what Quintus means, my dear?"

"The fifth, in Latin," Annabeth said. "But-"

"This is my fifth body."

Daedalus interrupted whatever Annabeth had been about to say (probably that using the Latin didn't make sense, since Daedalus was a Greek). Daedalus pressed his fingers into his elbow and his wrist sprang open. Inside was... a mess. Instead of flesh, there were gears. Bone was replaced by polished metal, and where there should be lots and lots of healthy veins, there were just wires and tiny plastic tubes of glowing oil. Daedalus wasn't flesh; he was just a machine parading around as a person. And under the right conditions, machines could malfunction.

There was an untouched cup of coffee on one of the workbenches.

"That's amazing!" Rachel breathed.

"That's weird," Percy said.

"It's downright disturbing," Mari muttered.

"You found a way to transfer your psyche into a machine?" Annabeth asked. "That's... not natural."

Mari inched around one of the workbenches, reaching for the coffee cup. Quiet as a mouse she picked up the liquid, careful not to slosh any of it around the sides. It was still hot. Good.

"Oh, I assure you, my dear, it's still me. I'm still very much Daedalus. Our mother, Athena, makes sure I never forget that." Daedalus tugged the collar of his shirt down, revealing a tattoo. No, not a tattoo. It was the shape of a dark bird, seared onto his 'skin'.

"A murderers brand," Annabeth whispered.

"For your nephew, Perdix," Percy said. "The boy you pushed off the tower."

Mari's hands shook around the cup and she nearly spilled some of the coffee as she inched closer to Daedalus. That was what Daedalus had meant, back at Camp Half-Blood. About murdering family. Even the method was the same. He'd pushed his nephew. She'd pushed her brother. At least Daedalus hadn't slit his nephew's throat. Did that make Mari just as bad as he was? Did it make her worse? She lowered the cup.

"I did not push him." Daedalus scowled. "I simply-"

"Made him lose his balance," Percy said. "Let him die."