P Hillard - The Knower of Truths

“I thought I was supposed to be the knower”” Michael’s eyes were locked on the image in front of him. On the hologram, two more bizarre animals battled to the digital death. “What exactly does that mean anyway?”

“Well, it’s just a story to most people. Mellok seems to take it pretty serious though. You’re supposed to be some kind of cosmic truth-teller. You know everything, all the secrets of the Rhythm. At least that’s what some people believe.”

“And what am I supposed to do with these secrets? Go around dishing out the meaning of life to everyone that asks? Walking on rose petals and opening a weird sweaty yoga studio?”

“I’m not sure what a yoga studio is, but yes, that sounds about right.” Brekt winced, the simulation had turned especially violent in the current round. “Personally, I don’t think I would want to know. What if the meaning of life is to be the greatest chef and you just aren’t? Too much pressure, you get me?”

Michael grabbed the chips from the tray, turning towards Brekt, dropping them into the waiting bag. “I mean, you aren’t some random alien’s messiah, so I don’t think you’ve got too much to worry about pressure wise.”

“I don’t know about that, I do have thirty-eight kids.”

“Fair point.” Michael dropped the last of the chips in with a clatter. “So, we have more than enough now, think we better grab some supplies?”

“I think you gentlemen better come with me.” The source of the voice loomed large behind them, taller even than Brekt. The alien was a bright orange wall, solid muscle squeezed tight into an outfit that didn’t fit, a shirt straining under its bulk. It was flanked by two identical-looking comrades, differing only in colour, one purple and one red. “You’ve been awful lucky today. Suspiciously lucky you might say,” the alien said, cracking his thick knotted knuckles as he did so.

Greddog had called it his estate, and he hadn’t lied. Mellok and Aileena had followed his procession down the corridor, through the cavernous pathways of Ossiark. Greddog and his retainers had stopped briefly at an empty metal archway in the centre of a chamber that acted as a nexus of the massive corridors. The outside of the frame had flickered blue as they had approached, and the hovering chariot had vanished as it passed through along with its occupant. Aileena and Mellok had followed through, emerging in a massive glass dome, thick emerald grass growing long around their ankles. A tiny perfect Eden of life on the otherwise dead world’s surface. In the centre of the rolling hills of green was a building, sheer brilliant white, all columns and gilded edges.

Aileena had taken a single step before nearly tripping over herself. There was gravity here, but it was significantly less than she was used too. It didn’t take long to see why, as Greddog’s hovering vehicle lowered itself to the ground. The enormous alien stood up with surprising grace, the lower gravity making his engorged bulk manageable. It was a definite power move to decide on lowering gravity itself rather than lose weight.

“What do you think Aileena, of my little domain?” Greddog said, sweeping his arms around at the sight before them. “A little patch of perfection on this eyesore of a planet. A perfect recreation of Ossiark as it used to be. Or at least it would be, had you finished your last job for me as expected.” There was a snarl in his voice, a faint twinge of menace.

“As I said, you sent me to retrieve what you called a hostage. I expected a person, Greddog, not a rhythm forsaken potted plant. I don’t have green thumbs. Well, I do, but not in the metaphorical way. Not my fault it died on the trip back.”

Greddog sighed, a motion which caused his chins to ripple. “The last known one in the galaxy, Aileena. That plant was priceless, and more importantly a piece of Ossiark that deserved to be brought home.”

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type, Greddog.”

“Well, even I, as fearsome as I am, must be allowed some indulgences.” He turned, his retainers scuttling around him, still holding his clothing from the ground. He began to walk towards the house. “You know, you really have some nerve coming here. Others who have failed me haven’t been as… welcomed as you.” The bulky pirate lord was surprisingly nimble in the reduced gravity, forcing Aileena and Mellok to jog awkwardly to keep up.

“I imagine my esteemed colleague means no offence, Lord Greddog. Tales of your benevolence spread far and wide,” Mellok said. Aileena rolled her eyes at his statement. He was laying it on a bit thick. “Surely we will sing of your mercy when we leave.”

“Perhaps, still Aileena was right before, I did owe her from a previous job. And I am benevolent, as you say.” Unsubtle as Mellok’s preening might be, it seemed to be working. “Come, come. You will join me for dinner this evening. You will get to meet my other honoured guests. Were there… any others aboard your ship.” Aileena shot a glance at Mellok, shaking her head.

“No, my lord, just us two,” Mellok said. “Travelling alone back to Cortica. I hired Aileena here as a bodyguard.”

“Hmph, well I do think you will find our guests most interesting then. First, though, I want you to meet my newest purchase. It’s something rather special.” They were approaching the house, the distance lessened by the bounding steps they were able to take. “Clive! Get over here!”

A figure appeared on the crest of the hill, strolling through the knee-high grass. It was wearing a finely cut black suit, impeccably spotless, almost impossibly so. It had thick black hair oiled into an impressive bouffant, its skin was a pale shade of pink. It looked for all appearances, to be a human.

“Hello!” It said cheerily as it approached. It certainly looked human, but something about it was off. Its teeth, the hair, the crystal-clear skin. It was oddly perfect. “I am Clive. Glad to meet you.” A hand shot up sharply, Clive’s elbows moving with angular precision. Aileena was sure she could hear a faint whir as it moved.

“Uh, hello, Clive,” Aileena said, placing her hand in the outstretched palm. It felt oddly cold and the skin was rubbery to the touch.

“I am pleased to meet you. I am Clive.”

“Yes, you said.”

“I am a one hundred per cent authentic human,” Clive said, with odd overeager confidence.

“That’s… a very weird way of phrasing that, Clive.” Aileena let out a slight chuckle. “Saying it like that makes me think that maybe you aren’t human at all.”

“Oh no, I am very much definitely a normal average human. I like…” he seemed to go silent for a second, “hamburgers. Reality television. Team sports. Go teams!”

Greddog howled with laughter, tapping Clive hard on the back with a loud thump. Clive didn’t move, standing straight as though nothing had struck him. “Isn’t it silly? The Council sent this stupid thing along with its latest batch of missionaries. We did the usual thing with them but kept this one. It’s a machine, one supposedly programmed to think it’s a human, to go around preaching their holy planet nonsense.”

“So, it’s a robot?” Mellok said. He knew something was off, the words coming from Clive’s mouth had an odd sort of echo to them, as if Mellok was only hearing them through Aileena’s connection to him. Mellok realised how it must feel for those he shared his ability with.

“Yes,” Greddog said, “never one to turn down a free robot, especially one so entertaining. I had it reprogrammed so it works for me now. Left in the part where it seems to genuinely think it’s human.”

“I am. I am certified a genuine totally organic human. Would you like to see my certificate?” Clive twisted his head as he asked the question, a low whir sneaking out.