I Fell From The Dark

21

Albert was four and a half feet tall. His arms were disproportionately long, and swung as he walked. He was wearing a dark suit, and a black bowler hat, and he carried bone-tipped a cane. An augmented reality pince-nez glittered on his nose; it lit up his wide, pale, darting eyes, set in a wide, pale nervous face, framed by a grey bushy moustache and side burns. When he opened his mouth, his tongue flicked over his lips and his small, even teeth.

He nodded at Jean.

'Well done, well done. Here's our mystery worker, eh? How's she doing?'

His voice was deep. He spoke rapidly with a crisp British accent.

'She's somewhat disoriented, sir,' Jean said. 'She has some gaps in her knowledge and memory. I can't find any structural damage to her processor, though, so I'm hoping that all the data is still there, just submerged.'

'Very well. What's your name, worker?' Albert asked, staring directly up at Mia.

'Mia... sir,' she said, after a warning stare from Jean.

'Mia. Well, it's time to go and have a chat with an old friend. Jean, her processor is locked away in your lab, yes?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. We can run her over the town network. It'll have the capacity.' Albert glanced up. 'Especially now. Come on then both of you, let's go.'

He turned and strode away from them, further down the little street, away from the main road, his cane clacking on the tarmac. Jean hurried to catch up; with nothing else to do, Mia followed them both.

So, this is a maker, she thought. I guess he's an... alien? I don't understand why he's telling Jean what to do. Did they invade? But then... Jean and I aren't really people: we're things. Did these makers invade Earth and steal us? Steal our minds somehow, and put us in machines?

I wonder if the thing which blew up the probes was a ship with these makers in it.

But if that's the case, why is he dressed as and acting like an old-fashioned English man?

She hurried up to him.

He didn't go far. They reached another building at the end of the street, and stopped in front of its grey gates. It was as functional and unlovely as the rest of the street, drab paint on concrete and metal. It had 'warehouse 3' stencilled over forbidding doors. Albert reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pocket watch; he tapped its face, which lit up, and the gates glided open. He strode on through, followed by Jean, and went through the door as it rattled open.

Mia paused, and then followed them both, and the gates closed behind her. Albert did something else with his pocket watch, and lights clicked on.

It was indeed a warehouse, with rows of mostly empty shelves. Albert strode on, their footsteps and Albert's cane the only sound echoing through the shadows and silence. He lead them through a few aisles to an open area.

There, in a pool of light, was a huge black box, at least eight feet high. Albert lifted his cane, and gestured at it.

'Jean, Mia, this is the AI from the Solar Pilgrim. As you know, it was stripped out from the ship because it was demonstrating a number of instabilities. I think it may know more than it let on, when it was shut down ten years ago. Jean, start it up.'

'Yes sir,' Jean said.

Albert turned away, and walked to a child-sized plastic chair. He sat on it, tapped his pocket watch, his glasses lit up, and he proceeded to ignore them both as lights flickered across his face from his glasses.

'Can I do anything?' Mia asked Jean.

He smiled at her. 'Certainly. You can help me with some of the wiring. Let's start with these power cables, here.'