Draft 1.17
Golem Project In Progress
The goal. The plan.
Wessel pushed himself to keep going, following Ethany down to ground level and away from home.
The goal, the plan.
No matter where she led him, past strangers that were complaining and scrambling to manage the outage, past wrecked pod cars, past storefronts and towers and schools and dead parking lots.
He had to focus on the goal. To take heart, stay determined.
Away from home, in a direction he’d never gone before. As they walked, the buildings seemed older and more old-fashioned, built with more brick than printed concrete. Old, scrubbed away advertisements hinted at another time, another culture. Away from the elevated rail travel, away from wide roads for the golem-driven pod cars. Wessel’s surroundings seemed to darken with every step. He clenched his teeth and kept following Ethany.
Follow the plan. Reach the goal.
He wasn’t even trembling.
Ethany, though, was whistling as she walked, camera box tucked under one arm, completely at ease.
“Have you b-been here before?” Wessel asked.
“Every day,” Ethany said, kicking a pebble as she changed direction, heading into a side alley. Wessel didn’t hesitate to follow.
“Why?”
“You’ll see,” she said.
Wessel frowned. Was she pulling him into something illegal? Was she a criminal? How would that mesh with her dirty home, full of cameras and furniture and cash?
It didn’t matter. Like when he was taking the inking exam against Lillian, he would push until he broke if he had to.
It was quiet in the back alley, away from the grumpy, muttered conversations in the streets. Wetter, too, where the rain hadn’t drained away as well. An old transport railing that wound around one of the buildings groaned above in a gust of wind, and Wessel quickened his pace.
“Here we go,” Ethany said, walking up to a wooden door set into an old brick building. She rapped her knuckles against it once, and it made a noise that was… off, from what it should have been. Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door.
Wessel stepped forward. Dark, steep stairs, dropping down into a basement. The air outside was warm and muggy, but Wessel could feel the air from inside on his skin. Cool, with a metallic smell. Like the workshops and garages he’d been in.
“This is an old-style entrance,” Wessel said. The door itself caught his eye, now that it was open. There was a layer of cold, dark metal in the middle of it. Someone didn’t want that door to break. “Aizi can’t fit through it.”
“Yer golem ain’t supposed to come in this way, silly.” Ethany stepped in and slipped a switch. A garage door, set into the building on the other side of the alleyway, began to wheeze and grind as it slid open. “Get ‘er to wait in there. She’ll be fine.”
“Nobody will steal her, right?” Wessel asked. Aizi dipped down to step under the rising doorway at his bidding. He felt a moment of panic as she shuffled into the dark garage.
“You know golems can’t be stolen.” Ethany patted the wall. “C’mon in. If the door stays open for too long, an alarm’s gonna go off. And it don’t call the police.”
Police? Wessel hurried to step in. The change in atmosphere made his sweaty skin tingle. Ethany shut the door, and all was dark.
Wessel’s heart skipped a beat. I’m defenseless, he thought.
Then, of their own accord, hazy yellow lights buzzed and flickered on above the stairs, leading down and around a corner.
“Told you they got power here,” Ethany said. “Let’s go.”
“You did not say that,” Wessel said as he followed carefully down the stairs.
“Huh? What did I say, then?”
“Not much. That we were going to catch the burg-u- the, uhm, the thief.”
“I was right about that too, if it can be done, we’s going to do it.”
Ethany turned the corner into a red-lit room. Wessel followed, then recoiled at the sight. It was just trashy in here. Posters advertising events, intentionally designed to look crude and edgy, were tacked into spray-painted walls. Assorted furniture was ripped raw in places, with tufts of stuffing leaking out of strained fibers. There were three doors to his right, restrooms, two of them marked with a scantily-clad poster figure that very, very clearly showed the gender. Another door on the far side of the room that looked like something he’d see in a jail, made of metal with a barred window.
Ethany walked right up to that door and slammed the meat of her fist into it. “CHARLES!” she yelled.
Only moments later, there was a bustling noise behind that door, then an absolute bear of a man opened it up. He reminded Wessel of Peller, the man who had inked his arm, in many respects. This man sported grease stains instead of ink blotches, sure, but had the same squinty look, the same disheveled attire. The main differences here were the scruffy sideburns and, well, about two-hundred pounds of added fat and muscle. The man’s red-rimmed eyes blinked as if adjusting to the light, then he looked down at Ethany and Wessel.
“He knows?” the man asked.
“He don’t,” Ethany said. “Just a feller who needed help, that’s all.”
The man pursed his lips, looking between them, then said, “This ain’t a charity, Ethany. I can’t help him unless you’s paying, or if he’s paying. And he ain’t paying up nothing unless he knows.”
“It’s alright,” she said. “Wessel ain’t much a talker. Practical hermit, right, with a killer Golem to boot! Right, neh?” She nodded to Wessel.
Was he supposed to agree with her? Aizi didn’t kill things. Wessel licked his lips and nodded anyway, in response. He wished he knew what they were doing, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. And it didn’t matter. If he was going to rely on Ethany for help, he’d have to go all in. One hundred percent.
That meant trusting this “Charles” guy.
“Well, c’mon,” he said. “Show’s still on, since we got off-grid power. Good crowd, especially today. Cause of the power, I reckon, ‘cause nobody else got any.”
He turned and lumbered back through the door, gesturing for them to follow. Light poured in once his large frame wasn’t blocking the doorway.
“It’s okay,” Ethany said, taking her first step forward. “Charles is a good guy with a business that’s not really on the up-and-up, you know the type. And ain’t nobody getting hurt. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She stopped and wrinkled her nose. “Okay, I seen him hurt a fly. But not people, neh? Yeah, not people.”
Wessel was still frozen. He could hear the sound of people yelling beyond those doors, the buzz of electricity and of powerful spotlights, the occasional muted thump or crash.
What was he getting into? For the first time, he seriously considered leaving Ethany. Going back, finding Aizi, going home. Reporting to the government guys that he’d failed to keep their project safe, that he didn’t deserve to have Aizi, and then just waiting to see what happened.
But that would be giving up.
“C’mon, don’t chicken out now. You with me?” Ethany asked, stretching out a hand to him. She waited, as if he were supposed to hand her something.
Wessel set his jaw, then reached out and took Ethany’s hand. The touch floored him for a moment, the unique feel of her hand, the pressure as she gripped his palm in turn. There was a connection there, not something easily taken back.
“One hundred percent,” he said. “I’m with you now.”
She tilted her head at him, smiled, then turned and headed on through the doorway, leading him behind her.
The building opened up before him. Bleachers, full of grungy adults and rugged teens, surrounded an arena caged in steel wire. They shouted, drank beverages of every odd color, and pumped fists in the air.
Through the noise, the lights that shone down from above, and the sudden pungent haze in he air, Wessel saw two active golems inside the cage.
They were fighting each other.
With a wordless cry, Wessel let go of Ethany’s hand and ran to the bars, flinching back as reinforced steel met iron in a clashing grapple. The two very humanoid golems shrieked and groaned, straining against each other, and then one had its foot slip against the concrete floor. The momentum turned into a deafening crash as one golem pinned the other to the floor, and Wessel jumped back, tears in his eyes.
How could they do this to the golems? They were life partners, protectors, guardians, there to make sure that everyone could live in peace. But these two were being forced to fight, like it was some kind of game. It was wrong. Wessel’s gut twisted as he watched the pinned golem thrash and grasp at the concrete, scratching white lines into the floor. How could something like this be right?
“Hey now.”
A hand landed on Wessel’s shoulder, and he jumped again, shoving the hand aside. Ethany stood by him, hands raised in a non-aggressive gesture. Past her, Wessel could see the thug-like Charles watching him. For a moment, he felt fear that he couldn’t ignore. That guy was putting all this on.
“Calm down a sec,” Ethany said. “I know it might be shocking, ‘specially for someone like you that done named your golem. But that ain’t how it is here.”
“What else is it?” Wessel asked, pointed at the arena. He jerked his hand back as the bars rattled with another collision. “How is that okay?” He’d thought he could trust this girl… no, that he had to trust this girl to help Aizi and keep his secrets. It was all wrong. He should have seen the warning signs.
“How is it not okay?” Ethany asked. “Look, ain’t nobody getting hurt. Humans especially ain’t getting hurt, or the golems wouldn’t be able to act. Them golems don’t hurt neither when they get knocked around. And there’s enough fun and money flowing around to pay for the repairs.”
Images flashed through Wessel’s mind. Aizi’s gold-tinted body caving in from a well-placed blow, her eyes flickering out, her carapace being slammed into the floor. She was his friend. Did people do this to their friends?
“You done sparred before, Wes, I know that much. If not, you wouldn’t have a golem. This ain’t any different at all, it’s just the metal doing the fighting. Put a band-aid on that bleeding heart of yours and listen for just a second, neh?”
Wessel looked away from the arena, blocked out the sight. He took a deep breath.
One hundred percent.
He was hear to help Aizi, and if he needed to get through this place to help, he would do it. Ethany understood this place. He had already committed, and this wouldn’t stop him.
He looked at Ethany and nodded.
“They can’t feel,” Ethany said. “They don’t think for themselves. This is no different than setting a couple of toys to fighting. You okay with that?”
“She cannot feel.” Vincent’s words came back to Wessel.
Even Aizi couldn’t feel, she could only think. These caged golems couldn’t even do that much. Was there really anything wrong going on here? Even if Aizi…
If Aizi was in that ring…
Wessel took a deep breath, then a shaky exhale. “I’m not okay with it,” he said. “Even if golems can’t feel, their partners can.”
Ethany rolled her eyes, and looked like she was about to say something, but Wessel continued.
“That doesn’t matter right now. I’m still in.”
Ethany shut her mouth and looked at him. “You won’t say anything?”
“No. And finding that thief is more important.”
“Thief.” Ethany hefted the camera under her arm, adjusting to carry it batter. “You can’t say anything about this after we find them neither.”
“I ain’t got all day!” Charles called from by the bleachers. “You followin’ or ain’t you?”
“Coming!” Ethany yelled. “C’mon,” she said to Wessel, but didn’t offer him her hand again.
He followed without another look at the arena, gritting his teeth as the announcer called “The Blue Rocket is disabled! Victory once again to our champion, Dark Arm!” The cheers that followed were accompanied by loud stamping on the metal bleachers.
Outside, the world was shut down. In here, the grimy underground kept going like no storm had hit Birmingham at all. But then, that’s why Wessel was here. Charlie led the two into a backroom office, waited for them to sit, then closed the door behind them.
Kyle Adams 