Anya sat by the fireplace of small underground lodging designated for those of the so-called “Iris” position. She was alone, and was yet to meet another of Iris. She had been told that they were all out on assignments, and that the timing of her registration could not have been better, or worse depending on how she viewed it.
It was a modest room, tightly packed with items and trinkets squeezed into shelves and drawers between the beds. Most of these were unfamiliar to her; even the fire — she was told — was only a projection of a real flame, not only because they lacked the resources to build a chimney to the surface but also because fires “have a tendency to become conscious” in the Bleedwood. Scouring the bookshelves around her she had managed to find a text on this subject exactly. On the interior of the cover was a dedication to the author, whom reportedly had spent the entirety of his Tanglements life studying the phenomenon of the sentient flame — a life which lasted only ten years before succumbing to Perception Sickness. The dedication went on to state that field notes that would later be written into the book that Anya held before her were found wrapped in a makeshift Anchor Case next to a pile of empty clothes by a Cartographer that had been dispatched to find the lost scientist. Below the dedication and on the spine of the book was a roughly printed seal of a compass with two needles, underneath which read the words: There is no death — only imperception.
The same phrase and seal were found on almost all of the books. From another, shorter, book she was able to determine that this was the seal of the Cartographers Association, and that similar such symbols existed for groups across the Tanglements. This included the range of different insignia associated with the Travellers Foundation, one of which was inscribed into a small badge that Arc-7 had given her shortly after her registration. It depicted an old ship’s anchor emblazoned atop a pair of angelic wings. Carved along its bottom edge, the name Iris.
Her Anchor Case too had been put through the budding bureaucracy of the Foundation. A technician had checked it over, made a few adjustments, and handed it back to her with her registered name of Iris-31 etched into the formerly blank plate. She had queried the technician as to whether this meant she was the thirty-first courier.
“Far from it, there’s about two-hundred of you. Slot thirty-one must’ve just been open.”
“There was another Iris-31?”
“Well, maybe not officially. The Arc’s like to mix up the numbers to make sure no one knows exactly how many members the Foundation had in each role.”
There was a knock at the door. It creaked open to reveal the dark black jumpsuit, tall build, and ruffled hair of Kite.
“Howdy!”
“Hey,” Anya rose slowly to meet him, her legs were still recovering and it had not helped that she had recently been running up and down the base for her registration.
“I heard you made quite an impressive escape up the cliff side. Looks like they patched you up pretty good.”
“Yeah, its just a bit sore now.”
“Well your legs aren’t metal yet so I’d take that one if I were you.”
“Thanks?”
Kite peered into the room and spotted the books strewn across the floor. “Been doing some reading have we?” He walked inside and crouched down to read the titles. “Ah the works of Solomon S-55. They’ve got all the originals at the Foundation headquarters in Beta-one.”
“What’s Beta-one like?”
“Well,” Kite walked to the bookshelf and searched through its contents pulling out a heavy book bound in a deep rose coloured skin, “Amelia CA-4 — she was one of the first Cartographers — wrote the first ‘textbooks’ so to say on many of the instances. They’re a bit incomplete by our standards now but they set a good baseline.”
He handed the book to Anya, it was entitled: Primary Observations of Instance One of the Beta (β) Branch, by Amelia CA-4 of the Cartographers Association. The edges were worn, and the pages were light and delicate to the touch. Inside were various sketches and depictions showing vast caverns covered with innumerable fluorescent crystals.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“It’s an easy place to get lost in, but once you know a particular path its like the instance takes you where you need to go.”
Anya made no reply, continuing to pore over the pages.
Kite placed a hand on the back cover and slowly shut the book. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. We’ve been assigned to a mission.”
“A mission? We? I thought you were helping with the outpost in—” she paused, “what was it? Alpha-one right?”
“Yeah well, that’s were I’d like to be. I know you’re still recovering but it looks like this one is important. Let’s go, the brief will be starting soon.”
Kite led her through the winding halls of the base. There was a significant uptick in activity, with various personnel dashing between the different rooms. One member was stood at an intersection of several corridors shouting over the crowd: “Iris returns! Iris returns! 41, 18, 73, 52! Repeat, Iris returns! Prepare team four!”
“In here,” Kite said as they entered one of the briefing rooms. It was packed with people, some appearing to be soldiers with rifles in their hands. One held a spear. Two wore vests covered in different pieces of mechanical equipment, each with a belt of runic stones hanging by their side. At the head of the room stood Arc-7, towards whom everyone’s attention was directed.
“As many of you will know, there has recently been a shortage of Perception Pills affecting the city of Jester’s Keep and other settlements in the instance Gamma-one.” He reached into his pocket to procure an small blue envelope. “Less than an hour ago I received this report. It was delivered to me by Iris-18, who arrived at this base heavily wounded. She had been attacked by a perception weapon, resulting in the annihilation of her left arm and the loss of most of her equipment. By the time she reached us her body was undergoing stage four Perception Sickness. She is now being treated by all available personnel, however without a Doctor present on site it is difficult to say what her chances of survival will be.”
There was a murmur throughout the room. Arc-7 opened the envelope and began reading the report.
“ ‘Jester’s Keep — Third Church Trade Agreement Mediation Report. Attempts by both the Travellers Foundation and the Cartographers Association to successfully negotiate an agreement of emergency trade of Perception Pills and other relevant supplies between the Third Church of Alpha-one and the City of Jester’s Keep of Gamma-one have failed. The Third Church has engaged in open hostilities with Jester’s Keep. All C.A. and T.F. bases or outposts within one to three days travelling distance of Jester’s Keep are to begin immediate emergency supply operations to the city.’ ” He folded the report and placed it back inside the envelope. “As teams one, two, and three were on standby, they have already been sent on the first supply missions. You will team four. Once more Irises arrive from nearby bases we will send out a team five. Team one returned only half an hour ago, they were unable to reach the city and have reported a greatly increased presence of entities in the tunnels. You will be given five Radiation Pills each to mitigate the effects of instance Gamma-one. The Hop Batteries will be ready in fifteen minutes. Dismissed.’ ”
There was a moment of silence, before everyone began pouring out of the room — ready to enact their duties to the Foundation. Throughout the crowd Anya could hear their voices chattering as they prepared themselves:
“The spear folk have gone too far this time.”
“There’s hardly enough pills for us as is, how are we going to supply the Keep?”
“An emergency in Gamma-one of all places? At the same time as increased entity levels? Surely there’s got to be more to this?
Anya stood amongst it all. She peered down at her badge, clenched her fists, and prepared to prove that she was worthy of the name Iris.
