Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [54]
And yet, Tekton knew that somewhere in here lay a clue to Farr’s raison d’être. The man was deceptive. Everything about his nature, including his choice to live on the floating surface of this constructed monstrosity called Edo, bespoke his desire to mislead.
Farr had played a spiteful mind game sending Tekton along that dangerous route here, and in mind games the player always left clues.
What secrets lurked within this odd prayer room?
Abandoning his discretion, he got up from the seat and walked a slow circuit, examining every fixed and hanging object: an eclectic mix that included a Trimium fertility goddess that looked to be sculpted from dried mucus, and a Rainbow Orbital blossoming and fading in a never-ending sequence. Tekton noted the combination of organic and astrophysical artworks.
Curious.
While he conducted his examinations, the Lamin stayed in its seat, sitting bolt upright, with knees primly crossed.
Tekton imagined it was reporting back to Farr via the mayordomo, moud or some other subvocal conduit. That notion didn’t faze him. Farr wanted Tekton to play the game, or he would never have allowed him access to his private chapel.
Godhead, interrupted his moud, you are required at the departure dock shortly.
Hooray! crowed his free-mind. Let’s go home.
Tekton was inclined to follow free-mind’s lead. The prayer space, which he’d expected to be lofty and grand, had turned out to be oppressive - and sinister.
Sinister? queried logic-mind. How so?
Free-mind sought another manner of description. It’s creepy. Let’s go.
But logic-mind became stubborn. No. Find the clue first. This is important.
But Tekton was still siding with free-mind. Edo had become as tiresome - and if he admitted the truth, as alarming - as Commander Farr. His earlier akula rush at the ever-present sense of danger that surrounded Farr had truly begun to fade. The man was insane.
He approached the Lamin. ‘I require a taxi to convey me to the departure lounge.’
The Lamin took a moment to reply while it checked in with its employer.
‘Commander Farr is delighted to provide transport for you to the docks. He conveys his wishes for your speedy return to Belle-Monde. His associate there tells him the food is very good.’
His associate? ‘And who would that be?’ asked Tekton sharply.
‘That is all the Commander wishes to say to you.’
Tekton wanted to spit with rage. Farr was taunting him with obscure hints. ‘Call the taxi now. I wish to leave immediately.’
The Lamin stood up and pattered towards the exit, where it cracked the door open and peered out. ‘I will inform you when it has arrived.’
Tekton nodded. He took one last sweep of the room, compartmentalising his anger so he could observe through dispassionate eyes. His gaze lingered on the shrine. What in Sole’s name was significant about a black box? Was it a projector, perhaps? Or a Babushka? Or even a compression chamber of sorts?
‘Lamin?’ he said imperiously. ‘How do you activate the shrine?’
The Lamin hesitated. ‘Commander Farr says that with your intellect you should be able to work that out.’
Tekton wanted to gnash his teeth with frustration. So that’s what this was, a game of superior intellect. Tekton hated to lose at anything; a family trait that his cousin Ra had taken to the worst of extremes. It seemed that Commander Farr enjoyed the same competitive attribute. His free-mind took a moment to consider Ra and Commander Farr. Their collective competitive natures gave Tekton a shiver.
Concentrate! barked logic-mind.
Tekton tried to broaden his perception of the box in relation to the figurines. It bore no comparison to the organics, but it was not unlike the Rainbow Orbital, which grew and faded over the top of its projector casing.
If the black box was also a projector of sorts, then it would