This is another story I wrote some time ago and one I intend to return to, possibly once 'Smoke and Mirrors' is done. I hope you enjoy.
Cheung had never seen so many clocks in one place and he was reasonably sure that he never wanted to again. Their combined sound reminded him of a club he had visited with Kanoko the Nissin Noodle girl, back when she had been someone he wanted to impress. There was this guy, she had said, made really cool music with sound chips from old games consoles, a drum machine and DNA fragments as source code for the tones.
Cheung shuddered as he recalled that night and hated the way that these clocks and their syncopated ticking gave him flash-backs to that dingy pit some Indian gimp was passing off as a club. He looked over to Jeong, who was entranced by a Doraemon branded digital clock with a built in piggy bank.
Jeong pushed a button on the base of the clock. It chimed 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' in uncertain tones.
'This clock's like... older than your grandma, mate!'
'Whatever. The entrance?'
'Oh yeah, sorry...'
Jeong looked up from his prize find and nudged his wire-rimmed spectacles back onto the bridge of his blunt, slightly-too-wide nose.
'...Need to look for the shopkeeper first.'
Cheung sighed in exasperation.
'The fuck we supposed to do that in amongst all this shit?'
Jeong shrugged, almost apologetic but not quite pulling it off.
In that moment, all the clocks stopped ticking. The digitals powered off in unison. Cheung felt his eye twitch.
The sound was faint at first, like maybe it wasn't there at all; teh... teh... tehpahtapah... tepapahtapahte...
There was something else there too, just floating at the edge of that sound; a mechanical whirring, a hint of tiny servomotors...
When the rabbit appeared between Cheung's feet, playing its little red drum and smiling enthusiastically, all he could manage was, 'erm...'
They stared warily at the toy as it made a shaky half-pirouette before wobbling off in a very decisive path through the jumble of timepieces.
'Erm... I think maybe it wants us to follow it,' Jeong offered.
'Of course it does,' Cheung managed to deadpan.
He shook his head slowly.
Too weird...
They formed an unlikely precession behind the toy rabbit as it led them through the shop toward a door they were both certain had not been there a few moments before. The rabbit disappeared smartly through a cat flap at its base, leaving them staring at their distorted reflections in a perfect walnut veneer.
'Should we knock?'
Jeong seemed to consider this at length.
'Guess so,'
Cheung rapped his knuckles against the wood three times.
Nothing.
They waited, still staring at the walnut versions of themselves.
As Cheung raised his hand again, the door slid into a recess in the wall, contrary to the design indicated by its brass hinges and handle.
The passage ahead of them was blocked by an efficiently muscled black man wearing a top hat and white grease paint around his eyes. Small staples formed fractal patterns on his naked chest and served to enforce the aura of menace initially stated by the shotgun cradled in his arms.
'Are you Domino?' asked Cheung, suspecting it was a stupid question.
'PASSWORD.'
His voice was virtually subsonic and the word arrived with all the force of a gut-punch.
Jeong produced his Samsung palmtop and checked for an instant message, as he had been instructed. He recited the massive string of alphanumerics he saw there, his voice trembling slightly. The Staple-Guardian retreated to a previously unseen alcove and settled into an overstuffed armchair, replacing his shotgun with a cup of steaming tea. Almost as an afterthought, he nudged open a second door with his toe.
With no small amount of trepidation, they stepped into this new room. In doing so, they were certain they had stepped back in time. They were surrounded on all sides now by books of every conceivable size, stored reverently on hardwood shelving that extended to a rich burgundy ceiling. Motes of dust danced in warm cones of light cast by intricate fittings which were most likely antiques even in the last century.
'Welcome, gentlemen,'
The jovial greeting had come from a portly man with a vaguely middle-eastern cast to his features. His arms were held wide, as if to welcome home a sorely missed family member. Cheung was more interested in the man's face and noted his expression to be entirely predatory.
'Come, sit with me,'
Their host gestured to the centre of the library, where he had laid out a spread of exotic throw cushions around a low table covered with batik.
'We're here to retain Domino's services; isn't he joining us?' Jeong asked, jerking his thumb back toward the door. Cheung cringed inwardly at his friend's clumsy approach.
'I'm afraid you have made a common, though understandable mistake. That man is not who you seek. Domino is female.'
'So who's he, then?'
'He is in fact a very expensive counter-intrusion program I am rather proud of; no simple firewall, I can assure you. My name is Ash and I am administrator of this most private of chat rooms and designer of the virtual space you now inhabit. How do you like my little island in the net?'
Copyright © A. Flood 2010
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