Guy Haley - Omega point

From there the Gridsig broadcast its unique song, obscured, tampered with and corrupt, undisguisable nonetheless.

"Pollyanna," he said.

On the larger island it was night also, and the bulbs cast motley shadows on the path as they stirred in the wind. A smell of food came with it.

Richards staggered as their island crashed into the other. It came free, snagged once again and came to a hard halt.

"Tsk," said Bear, joining Richards, "how tasteless. But check that out." He pointed to the wheel at the top. "That's a pylon station, that, a way back to Pylon City."

Richards looked at him, "And?"

"They're all over!" said Bear, waving his arms around. "All lead to Pylon City. It's what carries the network, and people too, you'll see."

"You're sharing this information with a prisoner?" said Richards.

Bear harrumphed and folded his massive arms. "I'm beginning to believe you're not some kind of spy, sunshine, everyone knows that. Come on!" he added, smacking his lips. "Something smells dee-licious!" His long snout twitched. His eyes became animated. "Pork. It's pork! Let's check it out. I'm sick of squirrel."

"I'll come too," said the tramp, appearing from a bush, rubbing his hands. "That food smells divine!"

The island had come to a rest by an ornate jetty jutting out over the nothing. Tatty paper lanterns illuminated it. No vapours rose from the edge of this island.

"Hey!" warned Richards. "There's a Five up there, and something is not right." But the bear and the tramp were not listening; they were already hurrying off the jetty where a pair of stone lions guarded a pair of iron gates, the bear's twitching nose high in the air.

"Halt!" said a bored voice. "State your business."

"What was that?" said the tramp.

"That," said Bear, pointing at the lions, "was them."

"They're stone, ignore them," said the tramp. "Come on, I'm starving."

"They're not stone," said Richards. Lions. One looked a hell of a lot like a non-robotic version of the Tarquinius avatar of Reality 36. A cut-and-paste job. And he thought that that was not the way an AI would have built this creation.

The lions' smooth grey skins shuttered between light and dark, abruptly turning into the rough yellow of lion pelt. They stretched and yawned, displaying fangs of dazzling ivory.

"Ahhhh," said the larger of the pair. "That's better. I do so loathe it when Circus keeps us petrified for too long. It is neglectful and cruel."

"Positively inhumane, Tarquin dear," said the other. A luxurious shiver ran the length of its body as it stretched. "If I had a phone I'd call the RSPCA."

"I'm not sure they cater for the likes of us, Clarence," said the other.

"Ahem," said Bear.

"Oh, do go away," said the first lion. "We really can't be bothered with visitors today. Come back tomorrow, yes. Tomorrow." Its skin flickered to grey and back. It shook out its mane.

"I'm on business of the Lord of Pylon City," said Bear. "Let us in, I need to make use of your pylon station. That's an order, by the way."

"Oh, really?" said Clarence. "Well, in that case, can they come in?"

"No, Clarence," said Tarquin, pacing around on his plinth. "No, they most assuredly cannot."

"Righty-ho," said Bear, and kicked open the gates. "Sod you then, I'm through trying to be polite. There's a way back to my boss and food to be had and I'm wanting to eat it."

"We could always eat you," said Clarence as Bear marched through the gate.

Bear jabbed a huge claw at it. "Yeah," he said, "and I could always eat you. What do you think of that, eh?"

"Tough talk, dearie. Though there are two of us and only one of you."

Richards stepped forward. "Isn't there someone you could call?"

"Yes, there is," said Tarquin, leaning forward on its plinth so its nose nearly touched Richards'. "But I'm not going to."

"Oh, Tarquin, for pity's sake, stop teasing him. Ask them the riddle and then we can get this beastly business over with."

"Yes," said Tarquin. "And when they get it wrong, we can eat them."

"And if we get it right we can come in?" said Lucas.

"Nobody ever does," said Tarquin.

"Shoot," said Bear, "I'm hungry."

"So are we, dear. Shall I?"

"Be my guest," said Tarquin.

"Very well," Clarence placed itself in a stiff seated position. "Answer this, if you please: What creature speaks with one voice, has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon and three legs in the evening?" The lions eyed them hungrily, tails swishing in anticipation of a three-course meal.

"Er," said Lucas.

"I'm stumped," said Bear.

"The answer," said Richards, "is man. As a child, he crawls. As an adult, he walks erect. As an older man he requires a stick."

"Oh, get him!" said the big lion. "Someone knows his classical mythology, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," said Richards. "I was lucky enough to get an education. Now let us in, you cut-rate sphinxes."

The smell was getting stronger. Bear was drooling and Lucas was dancing from foot to foot with a strange look in his eyes. Richards' stomach rumbled, which took him by surprise, and he found that his mouth was watering.

"Cut-rate, are we? Don't think you're coming through," said the big lion. "Let me tell you something, little man, less impressive than the offspring of Typhon and Echidna we may be to your eyes, but we still have big teeth." He bared them, and rumbled.

The smaller lion assumed the pose once again. "One of us always tells the truth, one of us always lies…"

"I got the riddle right," said Richards.

"Not so clever now, eh, old chap? We, I'm afraid, have full control over riddling rights round here. As you're such a blessed smart-arse you can answer three riddles. One for the each of you."

Clarence waited patiently for Tarquin to finish. A nod from the large lion set off his litany once more. "One path leads to certain death, the other to salvation…"

"And pork?" asked Bear, eagerly.

"And pork," sighed the lion. "How do you find out which way to go?"

"Sheesh, you're awful!" said Richards. "Everyone knows the answer to these. They're rubbish!"

Lucas and Bear looked at each other guiltily.

"Wooooo!" said the lion. "Catty! Go on then, mastermind, what's the answer?"

Richards shook his head.

"Answer," purred the lion.

Richards pulled a face, but answered anyway. "I'd ask one of you, 'What would the other one of you say if I asked him the way to salvation?'"

"More," said the lion warily.

"If I asked that question of the liar he would tell me the opposite of what his fellow actually would say, as he always lies. If I asked the truthful one, he would tell me the truth, which is to say, the liar's lie. Both would indicate the road of instant death, so I'd naturally take the other. For fuck's sake, this really is schoolboy stuff."

"Alright!" growled the bigger lion. "Clarence! Another."

"Are you just going to ask us questions until we get one wrong, and then eat us?" said Richards. "Because that's a big waste of time for everyone."

"That is the general idea, yes," said Tarquin.

"Thought as much." Bear strode forwards. Crossed paws barred his way, claws popping from their sheaths.

"Not so fast," warned Clarence with a silky growl. "You have two choices. We can ask you lots of annoying questions until you fail and we eat you." It had a most disagreeable manner. "Or we can just eat you."

Bear rolled his eyes. "I've had enough of this!" He grasped Clarence by the scruff of the neck and pitched the lion like a hay bale into the darkness.

"Bounddddeerrrrrrr!" came a faint cry, and the lion was no more.

Bear turned to eyeball Tarquin. "I'll give you a riddle: What shouldn't you do to Bear?" He wagged his paw inches from Tarquin's face, beans rattling madly. "The answer? Don't piss Bear off, especially when there's meat involved." Tarquin sneered but wisely turned back to stone. "I thought so. C'mon, boys! It's dinner time!" He marched on, Lucas scampering after, Richards reluctantly following. Pl'anna's Gridsig sang loud then faded to nothing, intensifying again as they drew closer to the pavilion, as did the smell of roasted meat, and Richards' hunger.