Journey of Rick Heiden Ch. 39-40

We arrived in the right neighborhood, but I couldn't tell which home Amaré had at night from above. I lowered the ship to transport height and found it. His house that night hadn't used its exterior lighting. When we landed, I searched the compartments between the jumpseats. I needed all the clothing from Cadmar and Svend that I stashed there earlier, the boots, and my wrist lamp.

"Now what?" asked Pearce.

"I'm changing clothes," I said. "I'm sick of walking around looking like a wayward Go-go boy."

"I wondered if you noticed."

We familiarized ourselves with Amaré's old-world Tuscan home with a preliminary once-over, and some unmistakable peculiarities left both Pearce and me wondering. The foyer, living room, dining room, and several other rooms on the main floor had ceilings over eight feet in height, so those presented no problem for Amaré. However, the bathrooms, all the bedrooms, the hallways, and the kitchen would cause difficulty due to the seven-foot ceilings. Why would he live as inconvenienced as that?

"The gold key looks more important; therefore, he probably hid it inside the house, not among his things."

"He couldn't hide in the walls," I said, "they made them of stone."

"A secret room, maybe?"

"I see now why people get synthetic eyes. That would be damn useful right now. Okay, let's stop, forget Amaré for a moment. Aurum built this home, so he hid it here. Where would he hide it? What kind of person was he?"

"I don't know," said Pearce. "Aurum had power as the Prime, he had influence, and he wanted to leave his permanent mark on Jiyū."

"Permanent mark," I said.

"His crest," said Pearce. "He left an enormous one behind the head of the formal dining table."

We examined it, but the wall hanging had nothing more to it.

"Gabe told me he found a clue," I said, "he discovered it when he dropped something."

"What did he drop?" he asked.

I began looking around. "No, not what Gabe dropped, but where he dropped it. It's under the floor!"

The house mostly had stone flooring, but they also used some wood and tile. We had a tough time finding it. We figured it lay hidden in a communal area of the house, a location for guests, but we thought wrong. We discovered it in the flooring of the master bedroom on the ground floor. It made sense to hide it there; many people put safes in the walls and floors of their bedrooms. He hid it in the closet under a rug, where we found the wooden flooring gouged and scratched. I could see that if I pushed down on one spot, the opposite side lifted just a little. Beneath the surface, a cavity held a locked wooden box.

"We need the silver key," I said.

"It's just wood," said Pearce, "why not break it open?"

"Do you want to damage the contents?"

"I suppose not."

"I kept my important keys on a keychain in my pocket," I said, "and I always had them with me."

"As did I," he said. "I also carried a valet key to the car in my wallet."

"Did Amaré have a keychain, you think?" I asked.

"The Trust uniform doesn't even have front pockets."

"Oh."

"A loose key hidden in his clothes, perhaps."

"He has two more sets of uniforms in his closet," I said, "and the British government had Amaré's clothes for a while. They would have found it. No, it's not there."

"In the sheath for his sword, maybe?" he asked. "It's like a pocket in a way, and he always carried it with him."

"He didn't have it with him earlier," I said.

"I saw it on the sofa table behind the couch," he said.

We rushed to it. Pearce held the sheath while I pulled the sword. I hadn't seen the semi-rigid material used in the sheath anywhere else. Pearce squeezed the pointed end. "I feel something in here."

He shook and shook and shook the end of the scabbard as it worked its way to the top where I could grab it. It contained a cloth bag. I unrolled it, and it held a round metallic bar with the ends bent downward. Two tiny round metal pegs protruded from the ends.

"It looks like a tool," I said.

"Ah, ha! We have it!" Pearce laughed, holding up the tool.

"That doesn't look like a key to me."

"No. No. No. I think I know where to find it," Pearce said. "And we have found a key, of a sort." He took Amaré's sword, maneuvering it, so the sharp end pointed away from us. The pommel in his hands, he flipped it on its back.

"See these little holes?" he asked. "I noticed them before on other swords."

The sword maker had drilled tiny holes on the opposite sides of a threaded ring. It held the back insert with the person's name and the motto onto the pommel. The Prime would pass the gold sword to the next Prime, so it never had anyone's name, just "Scientia nos Defendit" (Knowledge Defends Us) centered there in high relief. Pearce pushed the key into the holes on each side of the collar and used the tool to turn the ring five times until the ring came loose. He flipped the pommel downward, and into his hand fell the insert. The silver skeleton key stayed stuck to the back where Aurum had hidden it a thousand jears earlier.

"A location where the Prime would never lose it," I said, "and passing it on to the next Prime happened automatically."

I picked up the wooden box, inserted the silver key, and turned it. The lock opened, allowing the top and bottom of the container to slide apart.

I pulled a gold skeleton key from the velvet-lined box. "Ho-lee crap," I said.

"Aurum knew how to make something beautiful, didn't he?"

I held a skeleton key, eight inches long, ponderous in weight, and a wonder to behold. The head of the key had a circular, silver and gold quatrefoil ornamented in tiny gold three-dimensional cups. The shank looked like inches of a twisted gold cable, and the bit, unlike other skeleton keys, contained a silhouette of Aurum's cup. I did not doubt its authenticity.

In our ears, we heard a communication from Dmitry and Maggie. We both connected.

"I knew you could find it between the two of you," he said.

"How are you, Maggie?" I asked.

"I'm okay," she said. "He hasn't once moved this device from me."

"You have two hours and forty minutes," said Dmitry.

"How do we find the passage?" asked Pearce. "The Master Builder blocked the original in the storm drain."

"That's your task," said Dmitry. "She knows where she put it, ask her. And remember, I'm listening." He ended the communication between the four of us.

"Ask the Master Builder!" yelled Pearce to Dmitry, who we both knew still listened. "Can you not do better than that?" He looked at me. "I see now why he wants us to do it!"

"I know the Master Builder's a bit rude," I said, "but what else is wrong with her?"

"A bit rude," he repeated. "When I lived here before, the Master Builder acted like the Wicked Witch of the West on steroids with her robots as flying monkeys. You don't seek her out, and you don't stand in her proximity, much less ask her anything."

"What's the worst that might happen?" I asked. "She yells at us in a condescending tone."

"I've heard she's killed people."

"Gossip doesn't count as facts, Pearce. No one here would put up with her killing anyone, so I doubt that's true. Maybe she's horrible because she feels taken for granted! If the way you're talking about her represents the general attitude toward her, I can imagine she is."

"What would you suggest we do?" asked Pearce. "Should we bring her chocolates, flowers, and a heartfelt apology for taking her for granted? Perhaps we could say pretty please when we ask her where it is; you're big on politeness."

"Hey! Having good manners goes a long way, don't knock it." I sat thinking about it and took a deep breath. "She remodeled our whole building and went right to work on my gym. I do appreciate that. Maybe, I should thank her somehow."

"Send her a thank you card by One City post."

I didn't even bother looking at him. "Now's not the time, Pearce."

"Okay," he said, "for the sake of argument let us suggest she accepts your thanks, how will you segue from that? 'By the way, I was wandering about in the drainpipe the other day, and I happened to notice you blocked the entrance to Aurum's vault, would you, please, tell me where you put the new one?'"

I rolled my eyes at him and contacted Venn to ask him about her. "What do you know of the Master Builder?"

"That's an interesting and uncommon question of me," Venn said. "She and I have several similarities. We have freedom like humans do, for example. She and I also have distinct differences; I am a decentralized synthetic entity while she is a centralized master controller. Everything I control makes up who I am, while she controls every bot in her charge by a neural remote. Her abilities have evolved to their current level over centuries and numerous upgrades, many of which she created for herself. A portion of her last upgrade came from Bragi College. She is a unique being, another synthetic like her will never again exist."

"You sound as if you admire her," I said.

"I do."

"I get the impression her extraordinary uniqueness has resulted in loneliness," I said.

"She is lonesome," said Venn, "but she would never admit it, and I avoid the subject in conversation."

"I need to speak with the Master Builder in person," I said. "Does that sound like a mistake? Should I fear her?"

"If I had this conversation with anyone else," he said, "I would say, yes, without reservation. She seldom enjoys the company of humans. They tend to say all the wrong things."

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"At present," he said, "she has focused most of her attention inside the Pantheon contemplating her trouble with the dome, but a word of advice, if I may."

"Yes?"

"She tends to frighten people because she has at her command a great amount of power, but also due to her reputation from past experiences with humans," he said. "She has changed since then. Her last upgrade has improved her volatile disposition in that regard. Nevertheless, she still maintains many qualities that make her who she is. Her expressions and coarse comments, as well as her abrupt and abrasive personality, will not change anytime soon. Keep in mind, she is the Master Builder, created long ago to build, not to socialize. She requires understanding from the humans she interacts with. You have nothing to fear from her, Rick, just be yourself."

Pearce and I left Amaré's home, and I told him nothing of my conversation with Venn. "I want you to say nothing while I speak to the Master Builder."

"I assure you," said Pearce, "I have no intention of making any comments."

I landed the Berlioz at a respectful 30-meter distance from the Pantheon. She appeared to have made rapid progress with the entire Quadrātum. She had completed the hardscape of the open square. She had temporary lighting directed at the fronts of the buildings. It illuminated the motionless robots we could see in the distance on the central building.

We climbed from the ship, and I carried the wooden box with the key inside. I studied the pattern beneath my feet. The design interlocked the stones holding the entire hardscape together. The top of each block had many narrow ridges that provided a flat, textured walking surface, and the troughs in between had angles, channeling rainwater unnoticed beneath the hardscape to one of the many drains built into granite below.

Aurum wanted this Pantheon doubled in size and built to resemble how the original appeared in Ancient Rome before the church altered it. It had a bit of alteration, though; they took certain liberties with its design and construction.

The Master Builder had not yet installed the marble statues, and she had a few details to complete, such as the final coating on the exterior. It appeared complete otherwise until we went inside. Cement riddled the marble floor, and four bots, the size of Fennec attempted to catch as much falling debris as possible with a tarp to protect the floor installed beneath it. They kept in place most of the dome's temporary supports and the mold, which would provide its unique final appearance. Robots hurried to replace the section they previously removed because of the dome's instability.

A woman stood on the far side of the room, 86 meters (282 ft.) away. Like so many others on this planet, she looked perhaps 25 years of age. She wore brown pants, a khaki shirt, and construction boots. From a distance, I could see a bright white light glowing upon her head. She turned her gaze upon us, and she scowled.

"Stop! Don't move!" She sprinted toward us.

When she got within conversation distance, I could see she was like Greta with Team E at Bragi College, a biological gynoid with warm, creamy tan skin. I knew, however, that she was far more than that. The white light, the halo that settled around the crown of her head, acted as a band for her black hair, and her purple amethyst, synthetic eyes stare at us with menace.

"This area is unsafe," she said. "You have crossed into a construction zone, as you well know."

"Yes, please accept my apologies. My name-."

"State your address," she said, interrupting me.

I didn't know what she wanted for a split second. Then it occurred to me; my name had no meaning for her. She recognized us through our homes, which she constructed, and then she would have an association with which to apply whatever name we give her. It seemed odd that she didn't know us already. I suspected a particular purpose behind not connecting with the database.

Her method of communication felt just as abrupt as Venn warned me. I could tell she had yet to grow accustomed to speaking, but she had an excellent command of language, considering. Still, her matter-of-fact tone and inability to modulate suggested that her vocal abilities lagged her physical presence. She looked human in appearance, but when she opened her mouth, she may as well have screamed, "I'm a robot."

"I live at 1452.6 West Bragi Avenue," I said, "and my name is Rick. My friend, Pearce, has no address but lives with me currently."

She nodded her head as she spoke. "Ah, 1452.6 West Bragi Avenue. A recent remodel, in the process of building a gymnasium on the first floor." Her expression changed to irritation. "But you have 428.3 East Hatcheck Lane, Baden as your designer. I wish people would stop using him. He's too obvious, and I find his designs a bore."

"I'm unsure of his address, and I do apologize for that," I said, "but Magnar had the idea to use him."

"Magnar..., 32.5 East Orchard Circle, Yes, he used Baden too." She shook her head in disappointment.

"He did a decent job with the penthouse design. I love our library. It's amazing."

She displayed a disconcerting smile. "Ah, so you liked the library. I'm pleased."

"It's the highlight of the entire building," I said.

"I take liberties with all my constructions. I must, humans can design homes, but in the real world, I must always change something. Trial and error waste my time. Until I decided to make it a library, the original plan called for a boring round stairwell with wood walls. That didn't work for me."

"Well, had I known you designed as well as constructed, I would have requested you do the whole thing." Then I realize it. "Wait a minute, Baden is taking credit for your changes, isn't he?"

"They all do that," she said.

"Well, they won't do that as long as I'm around," I said. "I won't let the designers get away with it."

"That is kind of you," she said. "I have enjoyed this conversation for a change, but I must get back to my dome. Please, see yourselves out." She turned and walked away.

I couldn't let the conversation end there. "Your concrete weighs too much!" I yelled at her.

She stopped and returned to where she stood. "Aurum wanted it built as close to the original as possible," she said. "The plan says to build it with concrete. I have done so twice now. I do not think a third time will be the proverbial charm."

"At twice the size of the original," I said. "I must assume that, unlike the one in Rome, they didn't design this rotunda as an unsupported concrete dome."

"Correct," she said, "They concealed three supporting structures placed in an equilateral triangle, stabilized by a ring that supports the oculus."

"That sounds sufficient," I said, finding myself mimicking her. I had to force myself to stop. "Did you know the concrete in the original gets lighter as it goes higher to compensate for the thinning of the dome the closer it gets to the oculus?"

"I did not," she said. "What did they use to lighten the concrete?"

"I believe they used increasing amounts of pumice, but I would suggest, along with that, you enrich the concrete with carbon nanotubes. It should last thousands of jears if you do."

"Thank you for that information," she said. "You should go now."

The time had come. "I have a request of you," I said.

"Yes?"

Her tone changed to one that sounded like anger, but I couldn't tell. I didn't know whether she could separate the subtler differences between emotional states. Unlike most people, I couldn't read her well enough. Her expressions didn't jibe with the characteristics of typical human expressions, and they remained unpredictable. I tried to accept her and understand that she had yet to grow accustomed to social interaction. Nevertheless, her uncanny-valley persona frightened me, and I wanted to leave at once, but I couldn't.

I took a deep breath. "I must make this request." I opened the box and removed the key for her to see. "My friend and I must enter Aurum's vault. If we don't retrieve what we need in -" I looked at my watch. "- an hour and fifty minutes, my friend will die."

Pearce was right, I had no comfortable segue into making the request, and she didn't make it any easier. I felt a ton of pressure upon me as she stood there in silence. If she rejected it, I knew what it could mean for Maggie. The Master Builder stepped closer to me, and it didn't help my fear any; I almost stepped backward. She stood there, observing me, and her face expressed extreme anger or annoyance. I tried not to, but my emotions overwhelmed me. I said nothing, but thoughts ran through my head, and I had difficulty regulating my breathing. She had me so upset a tear ran down my cheek. She stepped forward again, and I couldn't move. With her finger, she caught the droplet and tasted it.

Suddenly, her expression went blank. "You have the key," she whispered. "I wish you had come to me before noon two days ago. If you had, I would not have had to kill my friend to protect the vault."

"You killed Rom?" I wanted to glance at Pearce, but I couldn't turn from her gaze.

"He asked me to," she said. "He made a promise to me that he would die before he allowed anyone to see the satellite images revealing the final location of the entrance, and someone made persistent attempts to break into his secured files. He could not delete them himself, and he could not continue to move their location."

"I apologize for my poor timing," I said. "The reason for my intrusion became an issue tonight. How do I get there?"

She pointed to the bot behind Pearce and me. "This bot will lead you."

She turned and left.