~ QUILLAN ~
"I'm almost glad Bobby waited until after the war to give us these journals," said Courtney bitterly, scooting away from the crate she had been leaning on and pushing herself up to her feet. "At least this way, we know that Bobby lived through the ordeal. I would have died from fear for him otherwise."
"The question is," said Mark nervously, "did Bobby actually save First Edge? Or did he merely manage to escape just before it all went south?"
"The answer to that is waiting for us here on Quillan," said Press, gazing around once more at the stacks of crates. "This place doesn't seem to have changed much," he added.
"But the rest of Quillan definitely has," said Mark. "Let's go over what we know. It makes sense to brace ourselves for whatever we might find up there."
"Well, Elli Winter did give me a firsthand description of the Ravinia-controlled Quillan," said Press. "First off, the Blok Corporation is more powerful than ever. The Revival is dead, or at least too weak to pose any threat to the status quo. Ravinia has installed itself as the world government, selecting individuals to join the elite just as they do throughout all of Halla, but otherwise allowing Blok to operate unfettered."
"And the Quillan Games?" said Courtney.
"Gone," said Press. "The masses of Quillan are now so poor that nobody can wager. And the trustees have become too greedy to dole out anything to winners, either. In Second Earth terms, the trustees are now multi-trillionaires. Also, of course, Veego and LaBerge are gone, and they were unrivaled in the gaming field."
"Wait, back up," said Mark. "The masses have nothing to wager? I thought they could wager with their freedom."
"Exactly," said Press ominously. "Nobody is free. According to Elli, the lower-sector wage has been reduced to five credits."
"Do I want to know how much that is in Second Earth money?" said Courtney.
"Less than a dollar," said Press. "The barest of essentials are nearly out of reach on such a salary. Even most of Blok's upper management has to live in squalor. Besides the Ravinians, only a couple hundred people on Quillan are able to live comfortably. It would really be cheaper for people not to go to work at all."
"So why do they?" said Mark.
"They don't have a choice," said Press. "They really are slaves now. Every morning at precisely 08:5:50, security dados sweep the apartment buildings and ship anyone they find to the tarz. The only other option is to report for duty."
"What sort of jobs are left?" Courtney asked.
"Not many," said Press. "Blok may officially be a retailer, but it does very little selling these days…the trustees shut down most of their branches, keeping only those which maintain their existence, and Ravinia's. Most people simply labor to keep them happy."
"So…" said Mark, "When we get to the surface, we're probably going to find a dead city?"
"Not exactly," said Press. "The city of Rune is still populated. But it is in heavy disrepair, except for the Blok building, and the Conclave of Ravinia. We'll definitely need to watch out for security dados, though."
Press strode off, headed for the exit, and Mark and Courtney followed. After a minute, they left the central storage facility and arrived in a smaller chamber full of forklifts. On the far wall was a rusty metal staircase that looked sort of like a fire escape. They climbed the stairs, the clanging of their footsteps echoing in the chamber, and then went through a door and along a long hallway. Mark and Courtney knew that this door led into a gigantic three-story video game arcade. Bobby had written that upbeat, electronic music had emanated from this door, audible from all the way back down in the warehouse. But there was no sound.
When they pushed open the door, they found the reason…and it didn't surprise them.
The arcade was dark, silent, and empty. They could vividly imagine it active, with deafening background music and a mass of flashing lights, but all of the cabinets and screens were dead. The whole place looked like it was falling apart…clearly it had been a long time since it had been open for business.
The three of them picked their way across the trash-strewn floor, Mark and Courtney following Press uneasily. A few moments later, they found the exit, which was boarded up. Press simply charged at the door and broke it down, splinters flying everywhere. Light flooded the doorway of the forgotten arcade, and they got their first look at the city of Rune.
It was almost exactly as Bobby had described it—except that it looked like the city was crumbling before their eyes.
Dark clouds hung over the city, and a light, chilly rain was falling. The boxy gray skyscrapers loomed over them, some of them well over a hundred stories tall. Most of the windows were smeared with grime; some were shattered. Very few of the windows had any light in them; the lights they did see flickered and sputtered as if people were using open flames, just like in the Lifelight pyramid. The sidewalks were crowded with people, but the roads were nearly empty. The cars they did see were all abandoned, and their windows were smashed out. Mark and Courtney remembered that some people in Rune rode Segway-style vehicles called "scoots", but they couldn't see a single one. The traffic signal strips above all the intersections were dead; not one of them glowed blue. Trash and sewage were piled everywhere.
What was more, a good portion of the Blok storefronts were shuttered and empty. Stores advertising FOOD and DRINK were still open for business, but looked very quiet.
The broadcast screens hung up on the sides of buildings still seemed to be active. But instead of displaying 3D geometrical shapes, they displayed the five-pointed star of Ravinia.
The people on the streets kept their heads down, shuffling unseeingly towards their destinations. None of them had any spirit, any sign of hope or happiness. Quillan had been utterly destroyed.
And there was one last detail of the city that struck Mark and Courtney as ominous. Security dados stood in the roads, positioned every fifty feet, dutifully monitoring the crowded sidewalks.
At that moment, a series of desperate shouting and pleading reached their ears. "No! Not my son! Please, you can't take him! I'll do anything!"
Mark, Courtney, and Press spun around to see four security dados marching along the center of the road, each one holding a limb of a young man. He was unconscious, and covered with black and blue marks. Stumbling after the dados was a wild-eyed woman, her face streaked with tears.
"He was sick," she begged the dados. "He would have infected his coworkers! All he needed was one day to recover! Please, have mercy! We'll make up the difference! We'll do anything!"
One of the dados spun around and gave the woman a stare so menacing that she stumbled backward and tripped, landing painfully on her back. The dado turned around, and they carted off the young man. The woman lay there on the street, curled up and crying. With great effort, Mark, Courtney, and Press averted their gaze from the heart-wrenching spectacle.
"What do we do?" Courtney whispered to Press. "Where do we start looking?"
"In the underground mall complex," said Press without a moment's hesitation. "It seems the ideal place to begin our search. We'll attempt to meet up with the remaining revivers."
"You think any are left?" said Mark skeptically.
"Yes and no," said Press with a sigh. "Do I believe there are still people who call themselves revivers, hiding out in the ancient malls? Yes. Do I believe they are actually working against Blok? No. They only remain where they are because they would be immediately carted off to the tarz if they showed their faces in Rune. Few, if any, have real hopes of reviving Quillan. They are little more than fugitives who have branded themselves with a noble name."
"What about you?" said Mark. "Do you believe there is hope for Quillan?"
Press didn't speak for a moment. He looked around at the crumbling city in silence.
"I know there is," said Press at last. "This is not the natural destiny of this world. One day, things will change. But that day may not come for hundreds of years, and in the meantime there will be untold suffering. Remember, though, we aren't here to trouble ourselves with Quillan's fate. It's First Edge that we've got to worry about."
"Do you know how to get into the malls?" said Mark. Press waved his hand dismissively at the question, and stepped out into the crowd.
Fighting through the mass of people was tricky for Mark and Courtney, but they never lost sight of Press. His posture made him stand out from the zombielike multitudes. Every so often they shot nervous glances at the security dados, but none of them ever looked twice at them. Their Third Earth clothes were plain and shabby enough to blend in with the frayed outfits of the citizens of Rune. Finally, Press turned and headed towards one of the tall gray buildings. Mark and Courtney could only guess how he had picked this building out from the thousands of others.
Once they entered, they realized that it was an apartment building. But like most of the buildings in Rune, it was in a state of advanced disrepair. Water damage formed large dark spots on the ceiling of the lobby, and the chairs looked ready to collapse. There was a large desk bearing the Blok logo, but nobody sat at it, dado or human. In fact, there was nobody in the lobby at all. The building was deathly silent. Either it had been abandoned, or all its residents were at work.
"See that?" Press said, pointing at the wall behind the desk. Upon closer inspection, Mark and Courtney realized that something had been bricked over. The bricks were painted like the rest of the wall, but the outline of the mortar was unmistakable.
"If we're lucky, the revivers already made a concealed opening here. Otherwise, we'll…yes, look!" Press had felt the wall, and a good-sized chunk collapsed in on itself. Press climbed through the dark hole, and Mark and Courtney hastened to follow.
A narrow hallway stood beyond, but none of them could quite see what lay at the end. They approached cautiously. Mark was about to take another footstep, when Press threw out an arm and caught him, nearly knocking him over.
"Stop!"
Mark peered ahead, and felt his insides turn to ice as he realized what he had nearly done. They were right on the edge of an empty elevator shaft, extending far, far down into oblivion. Falling would have hurt.
"Uh…" said Mark, "Now what?"
Press pointed at the dusty elevator cable, which was still in place. "We climb down."
"Great," Mark muttered glumly.
However, the climb turned out not to be nearly as difficult as he had feared. The cables were firm and squishy, very easy to cling to. Additionally, there wasn't a lot of slack, so they swayed very little on their way down. The biggest problem was that their surroundings swiftly grew pitch-black. They had no way of knowing when they were going to reach the ground. Every time Mark lowered his foot through the air, he expected to touch the bottom. But the elevator shaft kept going deeper and deeper. It took ten minutes before they finally touched down…by which time there was no light at all.
Mark looked around blindly, unable to see Courtney or Press or the walls. He raised his head and looked at the faint gray smudge of light that was the top of the shaft. "What I wouldn't give to have been on board the Edgedancer," he said. "I wouldn't mind glowing right about now."
The three of them laughed, having broken the tension.
"Failing in that, I at least wish we had managed to hold onto those triptyte hats from Denduron," said Courtney.
"Or your flashlight from Third Earth," said Mark.
"Yeah, I…hey, wait a minute…" Courtney's voice trailed away. They heard her fumbling around. A second later, light flooded the bottom of the shaft, spilling from something in Courtney's hand.
"You do still have it!" said Mark in amazement.
"Acute observation, dork," grinned Courtney. "Seriously though, I feel pretty dumb. If Mark hadn't reminded me, we would have had to do this blind."
"Well, he did remind you, so we'll worry no more about it," said Press. "Let's carry on."
They strode through silent, dark corridors, wandering without knowing exactly where they were headed. They knew they would come out in one of the forgotten underground malls beneath Rune, but had no clue how to navigate them.
Eventually, they saw natural light leaking from around the corner, and Courtney switched off her flashlight.
When they reached the end of the passage and turned, they were greeted with a predictably amazing and depressing sight. The three-story underground network of malls stood before them, illuminated by faint rays that leaked through the bricked-up skylights. They were surrounded on all sides by shuttered stores, mere shells of their former glory.
"Where should we search?" said Courtney.
"We should explore all the main areas," said Press. "But we may not find anyone…the revivers are likely to hide when they hear us coming."
They set off, peering into the grimy windows, on the alert for any sign of movement. They found none. After searching the mall for an hour, they had to conclude it was empty.
"No problem," said Press as they finally gave up their search. "This is one of dozens of underground malls, and they're all linked together. We'll just check the next one."
They had no more luck in the second mall. It was every bit as dusty, depressing and empty. Same with the third. But halfway through their search of the fourth mall, they found something out of the ordinary.
There was a person standing in the middle of the ground walkway, completely stationary, facing away from them. He was pretty short…not much taller than five feet. His head was completely bald. Oddly, he wore a frayed purple challenger uniform.
"Hello?" Mark said uncertainly.
The man spun around and looked at Mark, his face betraying no expression.
"Good afternoon," he said dully.
"Who are you?" said Courtney. "Are you a reviver?"
"No," said the man. "I am a dado."
Mark was staggered. "Y-you are?" he said in surprise.
"Yes," the man responded in a flat voice.
"You're not at all like the dados we're used to," said Courtney suspiciously. "The only dados I've seen are security creeps."
"There is little need for service dados such as myself anymore," said the dado. "Now that the gaming operations have ended."
"Oh," said Courtney. She surveyed the little mechanical man. She couldn't explain it, but she actually felt kind of sorry for it. She tried to tell herself that it was just a machine, but this one somehow seemed almost…well, almost human.
The dado then said something that completely blew them away. "Are you Mark Dimond, Courtney Chetwynde, and Press Tilton?"
They stared at the dado for a full ten seconds. Then, Mark stammered, "H-how do you know who we are?"
"Pendragon informed me you would be coming," replied the dado.
And then, suddenly, Courtney understood.
"Fourteen!" she cried.
"Yes," said the dado, nodding his bald head.
She ran to him and shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. We know all about you."
"Pendragon spoke of me?" said Fourteen.
"He called you 'the only voice of sanity he had to cling to at the castle'," said Courtney. "Why are you dressed like a challenger?"
"When we parted, Pendragon had instructed me to wear something distinct so that he could tell me apart from the other service dados," said Fourteen. "I complied with his wish."
"Why are you acting like…you know, like an individual?" said Mark. "I didn't think that dados had the capacity to do that."
"I did not believe so either," said Fourteen. "I suppose you could say that Pendragon inspired me. I cannot explain why this is possible. Perhaps I am defective."
"Whatever is different about you, you're sure as hell not defective," said Courtney. "You rock."
"That is nice of you to say," said Fourteen.
"So," said Press, stepping forward and staring at the dado, "do you have a message for us?"
"Yes," Fourteen replied. "Pendragon wants me to tell you the location of a journal he wrote to you."
"I knew it!" said Courtney.
"Where is it?" said Mark.
Fourteen stared at them for a second, and then said, "You will find Pendragon's journal in the ruins of Mr. Pop."
Mark, Courtney, and Press didn't get a chance to react to this information. At that moment, there was an almighty explosion from above which made the ground tremble.
"Look out!" screamed Mark.
The bricked-over skylight had exploded. Fragments of glass and brick were raining down on their heads. They regained their wits quickly enough to avoid the worst of it, and dived through a hole in the wall, Courtney pulling Fourteen with her. Behind them, massive chunks of the ceiling thundered down. They staggered to their feet and looked around. They were in a store that had sold some kind of music recordings. They looked back at the pile of rubble to see that dozens of security dados were rappelling down into the mall, armed with guns, flamethrowers, and explosive barrels.
"What's going on?" shouted Courtney.
"I'll tell you what's going on," said Press. "The trustees must have decided to destroy the underground mall complex. Those dados are going to obliterate the last evidence of Quillan's past, and kill the remaining revivers…and we're going to be caught in the carnage."