MusicAndSparksMusic and SparksIt's a wonder I can put one foot in front of the other, Martin thinks as he tromps his way back to his rooms in the castle. Pulling out a skeleton key which glitters oddly, he slides it into the lock on the door, pulls back, twists, and pushes back in; the door rewards him with a series of clicks before snapping open. Inside, the first and largest room could have been pulled from some French provincial manor house in shadow. Martin flops into an overstuffed couch, takes a moment to yank off his boots, then leans back to stare at a spot on his silkscreened wall. So much to do, he thinks, but first comes a bath. Yeah. A hot one, to unkink the muscles. I'll get up in just a min... [...] It takes a moment for things to come into focus when he awakes. One, because the lighting is a lot different. A lot brighter. Daylight? Fardles. And another, because there's a man-shaped silhouette over him- He rolls and stands, reaching for his sword even before he realizes there's a spanner in his hand. His hand, his arm, hell, most of his body is spattered with grease and oil. And the shadow, he can see now, is a copy of one of the clockwork soldiers from Paris. "What... the hell." The final detail clicks into place; Martin isn't even in his rooms any more, he's in one of the workshops downstairs. Barefoot, at dawn. Was there a dream? Well, actually a lot of them. Memories of walking Corwin's Pattern, the fighting in Paris, all tied together with Moire and Rebma and Meriel and strangely, the Omphalos. Then another, older memory comes to him, and he reaches down to his pocket for his PDA. Click. Click. Not him. Not her. _Definitely_ not her. Can't tell him yet... there. And Martin concentrates on Gerard's digital Trump, willing it to come to life... Uncle Gerard takes a few moments to answer it. When it comes to life, Gerard is walking along the docks toward one of the Amber Royal Navy ships. "Will..."he begins, and then shakes his head with a laugh as he recognizes the caller on the other end. "Wrong nephew. I thought you were William, going to cancel or postpone our meeting for some reason." "What can I do for you, Martin?" Even though he knows it has to be done, Martin hesitates. " 'Lo, Uncle," he says. "I, um, need your opinion on something. Well, actually, a second opinion. Dad said once you were the most recent of my aunts and uncles to hit the medical school circuit, and your experience far outstrips mine." Gerard gives a nod, and a slightly quizzical and puzzled look in the bargain. "I, um, need someone who's going to understand what I'm talking about, for one thing, and I don't want to bring this to Dad yet." The last is said with raised eyebrows, questioning if Gerard is willing to be circumspect. Gerard gives a small nod of confirmation. "It is entirely possible one of your cousins, or the new ones, has a more recent degree than mine. However, as far as I am aware...I still hold the prize for most recent knowledge." And then very deliberately, Martin can feel the shift from a verbal to a purely mental conversation.
"Yup," Martin says. "So, you know, even if the transmitters and such were operating, there would be no place for it to go. If it worked here, which it wouldn't. No... the problem is, I'm building this stuff in my sleep." Gerard looks disturbed and then very attentive. Martin takes a deep breath. "It's easier, that you know. Before we blocked up Corwin's realm, I walked his Pattern. I have tech stuff in my head all the time anyway, but after I walked the Pattern in Paris I've been thinking of steampunk inventions constantly. Normally, I think in terms of Trump and electronics. Like Merlin." He waves at the construct behind him. "I think Uncle Corwin's Pattern has messed with my head." Gerard considers this for a long few moments. He glances through Merlin, at the War Machine, and then back to Martin.
"Just... dreams." Martin shakes his head. "Dreams about that Pattern, the fighting we did over there. Dreams about the Omphalos, for some reason. I remember dreaming about music. And then I remember a shadow I haven't been to in a while, one that had problems like this." Gerard looks thoughtful. *Is this a shadow close to Amber, or bound to you in some way?* he finally asks after a moment. *And of all the people who you might have approached with this strange condition...you approached me.*
"You'd have expert advice," Martin says. "If it were purely a medical problem, I'd start drugging myself. I know it's not an attack, 'cause, well... I know it's not an attack. It's nearly impossible to do that to me now. And if I bring this to Dad, he may tell me not to pursue it, and then I'll never get it fixed. I knew you would be the one I could trust." Gerard nods and smiles slightly. "Look at the evidence is not just a maxim for Fi, Bleys and their kids. You travel to Corwin's realm, replete with steampunk technology. You walk his Pattern, a Pattern which is not the one you have a bloodline for." "It rewrote you, son." Gerard said. "It rewrote you into someone more in keeping with Corwin's universe. Pol has told me about some of the crazy stuff you pull out of the hat. Corwin's Pattern just tried to make sense of that." "My guess is that these obsessions will dampen down in time. As I said before, though." Gerard looks at Martin sternly. "I advise you NOT to go walking the Pattern in the basement, or one of the other two." "You know what a palimpsest is, right?" Gerard asks. "A palim... oh, yah, the parchment thing. Where you can scrape off the old words or wash it in oat bran and milk of all things, and then write on it again... oohhh, I get it. Nice analogy." Martin cracks a lopsided grin. "Guess that makes me a bran new person, huh?" Gerard doesn't groan at the pun, but his eyes widen enough to show that he caught it. He waits a moment before answering. "Brand new words on the old source document that is you." Gerard says agreeing. "You probably could scratch away to get at the lower layer, to return to who and what you were. Just like a palimpsest. However, it would not be easy and it would not be the function of an instant." "Still, if you want to undo this, Martin, I can come up with a regimen and get back to you." Gerard grins and Martin can see, through the trump, Gerard crack his knuckles., stretching his shoulders. "I may not even charge you overmuch for it." Martin thinks long and hard on this one. Gerard says nothing, shifting his position as he watches Martin intently through the connection. He may not have the creepiness of Fiona's stare, but Gerard's full regard is a powerful thing. Its easy to imagine underperforming captains in the Navy under its weight. "No," he says finally. "It's not hurting me, really. And if it fades over time, I might be putting us both to considerable trouble over a moot point. It's not like I've forgotten how to build anything, I just think of this stuff first." Martin brings his full attention back to Gerard. "Thanks, uncle, but I'll wait. If it doesn't go away, if it becomes more of a problem, I'll come straight to you. But it sounds like I'd be better served just letting myself adjust." Gerard nods thoughtfully. "In the meantime, as things adjust, Martin, you might consider that, while this may be disconcerting and frankly frightening in some respects, allowing your imagination some free rein in this vein may prove to have an advantage or two." "That's a topic one of my more learned siblings, or your cousins, might be better suited to, however." Gerard grins. "Not some of them," Martin grumbles, then smiles. "We'll see. Will you be at Court later?""Not some of them. You learned that lesson the hard way, boy, long ago." Gerard says, in a kindly tone. He gives a nod. "Yes, today seems to be a day destined for meetings and business, rather than honest sailing." Gerard continues. "I will be at Court, on time. Fealty to the Crown and the personage of your father, my brother, the Monarch." Gerard smiles. "But certainly I will not arrive *early*." "Until then?" "You bet," Martin says. "I'll bring the dancing girls. See you there. And... thanks, Uncle." Gerard nods. Martin smiles as he passes his hand across the front of the screen and terminates the connection. And so, with his new minions behind him, Martin is free and clear to do what he wishes...until Court, most likely. Martin turns and frowns at the construct behind him. "Well, now, what am I going to do with you?" he asks in an anthropomorphic kind of way. Opening up the chest plastron, he frowns deeper when he sees that he's wound the mainspring already, then reaches in to flick a tiny wheel into motion. This, of course, sets the rest of the horribly complex machinery going. "You had no right to be working," Martin muses. "Chances are, you're going to fall apart soon. At least here. But for right now, let's call you Godfrey." He closes the plastron with a snap. "How're you doing, Godfrey?" Godfrey, the clockwork automaton, does not immediately respond. In fact, except for the soft whirr of clockwork gears within him, there is no sign or evidence that the automaton has responded, or even is fully functional. Slowly at first, as if, as it is, lifting its arm for the very first time, Godfrey raises its right arm from a lowered position, and it salutes Martin. The arm and hand remain in that position. Logic circuits that Martin built, both from his transformed capabilities and his studying of Albrecht's handiwork, finally cause Godfrey to speak, a wound spring in the throat providing the motive force for slow speech. Each syllable is enunciated singularly. "Godfrey is fully functional and awaits orders." Martin cracks a grin. "I'll be damned." He salutes back and hopes his construct actually puts its arm down. "Well, Godfrey, I think you'd make a decent manservant for me. Maybe. We'll talk about that in a minute. But first, there's a problem. I'm sure I've programmed you on how to do the basics- how to wind yourself, for instance. But I'm not sure you know about this place. What do you know about Amber?" Godfrey takes a few seconds to consider this question. A quiet whirring sound can be heard in the clockwork automaton's head. It then responds in its slow speech. "Well, Godfrey, I think you'd make a decent manservant for me. Maybe. We'll talk about that in a minute. But first, there's a problem. I'm sure I've programmed you on how to do the basics- how to wind yourself, for instance. But I'm not sure you know about this place. What do you know about Amber?" Godfrey takes a few seconds to consider this question. A quiet whirring sound can be heard in the clockwork automaton's head. It then responds in its slow speech. "No references to Amber as a place found." Godfrey pauses and then continues. "One reference found to Amber within memory banks. Amber is a mineral, a fossil tree resin of an orange hue. It is noted to often contain within it insects or other biological material." "What is Amber the place?" Godfrey then says. "Data requested." "Amber is here. You are in Amber," Martin says. "To be more specific, you're in a castle on top of a mountain, called Kolvir. At the base of the mountain is a large city. There's ocean over that way," he waves, "and a tremendous forest over that way, called Arden. But it's bigger than that. Amber is at one end of the known universe, and everything we know- everything- is a reflection of this place. Sometimes that reflection is spot-on, and sometimes it's so distorted you couldn't recognize the connection. Don't... spend all your computing power trying to figure that out." "Acknowledged. Assimilating data." Godfrey replies. Martin taps out a random pattern on the table with his fingers. "What's important to know is that Amber's enviornment is not friendly to complex machinery like yours. I don't know how many safeguards I've built into you to slow that down. What I want you to do, in addition to your daily routine, is check your inner workings for corrosion every twelve hours. Let me know if it gets to more than, say, twenty percent. I'll think up a better solution, one that doesn't involve getting you far away from this place." "Acknowledged. Sub-routines exist for basic checksums against standard function. Routines will be upgraded to check for physical corrosion on a schedule of every four point three two kiloseconds." More drumming. "In the meantime, I need to figure out just what to do with you." "Accessing of subroutines begun..." Godfrey replies. Whirring of gears is louder than before, and lasts about twenty seconds. "I have been programmed with a primary function of a bodyguard and sparring opponent. Secondary functions indicate motor controls and subroutines designed as aid in construction of devices." "Oh, really?" The drumming stops. "Makes sense, though not what I expected. Then again, I've only seen constructs like you in action a few times. Hmm..." Taking an acid etcher, Martin draws two badges on the chest plastron; the top one the Unicorn of Amber, and underneath his own personal seal. Godfrey stands patiently through the work as Martin creates his etchings on the metal front of his torso. "I want to test those functions, but I also want to look in decent shape for Court, and that means we'll have to wait. If I haven't already programmed this, Godfrey, those symbols mean that you'll serve both myself and Amber. Now, you're going to get a lot of resistance here at first, and I'm going to catch some flak, but I want you to learn about this place and ask lots of questions and become as diversified as we can make you. With some modifications, your learning curve could be almost limitless. I'm going to get washed up here, and then I need to introduce you to some of the movers and shakers around the castle." Godfrey's head bends, regarding the two symbols that Martin has inscribed there. "Acknowledged. I now serve yourself and the Kingdom of Amber." Godfrey pauses and the whirring sounds. "Two part query. Part One. In serving the Kingdom of Amber, who is authorized to give command and orders?" Godfrey pauses and then continues. "Query. In cases of conflict with orders between the Kingdom of Amber, and yourself. do you wish any such conflicts to be automatically resolved in favor of your orders and commands?" "I'll designate who to take orders from, and yes, you should follow mine over others'." Martin sits back. "Wow. That could get complicated, and quick. Er... I always did like Aasimov when I was in that shadow... did I already happen to program you with the Three Laws of Robotics?" Godfrey pauses, the sound of whirring once again. "Negative, Martin." A pause, more whirring. "I do however detect protocols dictating that I should take no action or a lack of action to harm sentients whom I serve. I am to allow myself harm before taking action or a lack of action that allows harm to sentients whom I serve." "That's close enough." Martin shakes his head. "I can't believe I built and programmed all this in one night. It's... amazing. How much free will do you have? How free a thinker? I'd rather not dig around and risk messing something up to find out." The gears whirr, and whirr. Godfrey looks at Martin throughout the thinking process, apparently giving long thought to Martin's question. It takes a minute before Godfrey finally answers. "Complete answers to your queries are unknown, Martin.I detect you have programmed within me algorithms to extend orders given. Said algorithms appear to be fractal in mathematical construction. Bounded, but limitlessly complex within those bounds." "Well well well." Martin sits back. "That also falls under a 'close enough'. You can learn, and adapt." He claps his hands together. "Let's get ready for Court. Then I can make some introductions." The gears whirr for a few moments. Finally, Godfrey executes a snappy salute to Martin, followed by a slight nod of the head. "I stand ready, Martin, for orders to prepare me for Court." "And off we go," Martin says, standing and indicating the door. The gears whirr and Godfrey mechanically but not clumsily walks to the door, and opens it. Thusly, he precedes Martin into the rest of his suite and the preparations for Court can proceed apace. Backlinks |
