Free Broken Crescent by S. Andrew Swann Page B

YOUNATEBLACK.”
    Nate straightened up. “I told you, I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
    “IDENTITYNATURE BLACKDARKNESSVOID TELLCOMMUNICATE YOUUSME. HIDELIEFALSIFY FACTSMEMORYHISTORY VIOLATIONFORBIDDENDANGER CAUSERESULT PAINDEATH THISINSTANTNOW YOUNATEBLACK.”
    The pair of robed men who had dragged him from his cell were approaching him again.
    “I’m cooperating! What do you want? I don’t know what the name of the blackness was. I don’t know the name of the thing that lived in it. All it did was tell me it was time to choose a road.”
    Scarface gestured and the pair stopped approaching Nate.
    “WORDSLANGUAGECOMMUNICATION BLACKDARKNESSVOID TELLCOMMUNICATE YOUUSME.”
    Nate shook his head. He was having trouble thinking. The panic hadn’t helped his equilibrium. “What?”
    “WORDSLANGUAGECOMMUNICATION BLACKDARK NESSVOID TELLCOMMUNICATE YOUUSME.”
    Scarface was nice enough to leave off the threat of execution. Nate guessed at this point it went without saying. . . .
    What did it say?
    “Oh, yeah. It called me Azrael. It said ‘Azrael, it is time. Choose. Choose which road.’ That was basically it.”
    “DECISIONSELECTION YOUNATEBLACK HEREWORLDMANHOME.”
    “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
    “DECISIONSELECTION YOUNATEBLACK HEREWORLDMANHOME.”
    Nate sighed. “Yes, I chose this place. It was a snap decision, a mistake.”
    More conferencing. Nate wished he had some clue what he was on trial for here. If he had some idea what these freaks wanted . . .
    Nate looked down at the sphere and wondered exactly what it was and how it worked. The translation was bizarre, unlike any translation software he had ever seen. Almost as if the thing was translating context-sensitive meanings—and if they knew English that well, then why couldn’t they get a better translation?
    Why couldn’t they get someone who spoke English?
    If they could program something that sophisticated, then why hadn’t Nate seen anything electric since he had arrived here? Why did they react so oddly to his clothes? To him?
    He kept coming back to the conclusion that he was not on the same planet anymore. However, if that was the case, then what the hell were human beings doing on it? And how was this metal ball speaking English?
    Most important, how the hell did he get here?
    “WORDSLANGUAGECOMMUNICATION YOUNATEBLACK YOUOTHERS HEREWORLDMANHOME TELLCOMMUNICATE YOUUSME.” The new questioner wore a mask that was an abstract pattern that flowed across his face reminiscent of a Dali painting.
    The question made Nate’s head hurt. “If you’re asking what I’ve told people since I got here, I don’t speak the language. What could I tell anyone?”
    Someone somewhere chuckled.
    Score one for the prisoner.
    Nate realized the gibe was not a good idea. His head was messed up with fever. It kept him from thinking clearly.
    “IDENTITYNATURE MEETCONTACT YOUOTHERS HEREWORLDMANHOME TELLCOMMUNICATE YOUUSME.” Scarface clarified the previous question.
    “That’s different,” Nate said. He sucked in a breath and went down the list slowly, starting with Grandpa and the Stooges, through the guards who bought him from Grandpa to Scarface.
    “WORDSLANGUAGECOMMUNICATION YOUNATEBLACK COMPLETETOTALALL.”
    “That’s everyone except the folks we passed on the way up here.”
    Strangely, the reaction from the gallery seemed to be one of relief. Why? Why do they look so relieved I haven’t had contact with anyone . . . ?
    “Oh, shit,” Nate whispered as the implication began sinking in. These bastards didn’t want Nate in contact with anyone outside their little circle. That meant that they must have no intention of letting him go.
    “Hey, I’m sure we can work something out. Come to some sort of understanding. Just don’t throw me back in that hole.”
    “IDENTITYNATURE OBJECTTHING TELLCOMMUNICATE YOUUSME.” Clown mask this time.
    “Please, just say you’ll work something out. Keep me prisoner if you want, just give me a bed,