Enigmatic Pilot_ A Tall Tale Too True - Kris Saknussemm [154]
“Be as precise as you can,” the boy pleaded.
“I could not look upon their mosaic puzzle and see it clear and whole, but it was certain they could. It wavered and vibrated like something that was alive. It was like a cyclone … a labyrinth.”
“What happened then? What were you allowed to see—and why?” Lloyd asked with growing impatience.
“What I saw was like some jumble of alchemist’s dens, a brewery and an insane asylum. I do not know how to put the rest … machines I have never known. I have the frightening idea—”
“You think they were making people—or what resembled people,” the boy filled in. “You believe you saw a man, with multiples of himself, who was not a man but not female, either, for those gathered were revolting jelly-like forms that you nonetheless regard as human, who were nurturing the growth of some kind of tissue as both a means of concealing themselves to normal eyes and cultivating others—beings who would be taken for people if you passed them in the street but that were not people the way we like to think of them.”
“Exactly!” St. Ives exclaimed, catching himself. “This is the strangest thing of all! That you should know! How is it possible? Have you—”
“No,” Lloyd answered. “We have seen some of the same magic-lantern pictures. But it was no magic-lantern image that took your hand.”
At this the gambler broke down weeping, although he made an effort to stifle himself. “Too right, my young friend! I was experimented on like a dumb animal! I was made to … to … oh!”
“Tell me,” Lloyd commanded.
“I … was introduced to a … woman … an auburn-haired beauty with eyes like sapphires. She was lovely. They wanted me to … to mate with her. They wanted to watch. It was so unthinkable! Because I knew—that they had made her. Why I was chosen I have no idea.”
“That may be the most hopeful thing so far,” Lloyd remarked.
“Hopeful! Of what?” the gambler moaned.
“Their technology of survival lags behind their technology of manipulation,” the boy replied, gazing out over the flattening water. “If they have to employ animal methods of reproduction, and yet can project images by stealth over distances, that shows they have vulnerabilities. Somehow they need to maintain form, human flesh. It’s not sufficient to their purposes to influence and direct—they need to manufacture new vehicles, and any manufacturing process is a continual one. They have not perfected theirs. As monstrous as they may seem to you, they are engineers—and that is something I understand. They still have problems to solve, whatever their religion. That is the hope.”
“You scare me, Lloyd. Not like they do—but still … the student has become the teacher,” the gambler gasped.
“We teach each other,” the boy responded. “And some fears are good if they lead to the truth. Now finish your story.”
“I was allowed to enjoy the beauty … and then … they seized me,” the gambler said, wincing. “Their forms were flesh and blood enough for that. I felt them searching my mind. They wanted to know what they looked like to me in their other guise. Then they performed surgeries, Lloyd … they took my hand … and gave me this artificial claw.”
“How did you escape?” the boy asked.
“The most unthinkable part of the whole story!” St. Ives coughed. “Zadoc, the mechanical thing, reactivated. He—it—released me while they were in another chamber one afternoon … perhaps vivisecting some other poor victim, like a rabbit. I was torn. I was bandaged. But I fled, as fast and as far as I could in that state. I owe my life to the mercy of a machine!”
“Machines that have mercy are hard to think of as machines,” Lloyd replied. “The question is, did you escape or were you allowed to escape?”
“I have wondered that myself ever since,” St. Ives rasped, still blinking. “But … are you not horrified by all that I have told you?”
“I see hope in what you have said—as well as horror,” Lloyd