Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (14 page)

They slowly turned the corner, and a shadowed figure materialized before them in the dimly lit area, sitting at a Lev-desk.

“
Intruder!
” a robotic voice bellowed with its arms raised to fight. The mysterious person raised his hand towards the android standing beside him, and it calmed and lowered its arms.

“I told you to
never
come here unless we called for you … you are Bio-marked,
remember
!?” The mystery personage said with a slight anger. 

“
I’m sorry, I had to come.
I’ve got terrible news--MATTHEW IS DEAD!”
Bobble told, seemingly breathless in front of him.

The figure quickly stood up and distraughtly put his head in his hands.

“
My God … what will we do now
?” the enigma spoke.

After several ticts, the figure seemingly recomposed themselves.

“
Were you followed
?” it bellowed with an annoyance.

“
No sir
… we used the caves. They
can’t
track us in the caves …” Bobble said with prostration. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Beaver who was standing by idle in contemplation. As the two before him conversed about Matthew and argued about safety, he realized something

--he had heard this mystery voice before.

“
Morgan!
” Beaver shouted, as he had come to his inner revelation.

The duo stopped talking and stood in silence.

With a deep breath, the person spoke--“
Verb-bot … Illuminate
!”

The android beside him turned and keyed a pressure plate, mounted on the wall.

Suddenly, the room’s lighting made Beaver’s deduction crystal clear.

“Yes …
Morgan.
” the unmasked man interjected. It was the same Morgan that sat beside him on the transport, on the last Decision day.

“…
and you are Beaver2416. Welcome to the Schism
!” Morgan quelled with a hint of sarcasm.

“
Don’t speak
… there is
much
to tell you and I don’t want to repeat myself.” he squawked at Beaver with his finger raised.

Beaver could only nod in affirmation, as all of this was a shock to his system.

“I knew that this day would eventually come, Beaver2416. Matthew always wanted to tell you about everything … but sadly,
he never got the chance to do so
. We were always afraid of your position as a Hachiman, and former dealings as a pseudo-celebrity. We knew that you would no doubt be loyal to us--but the Elites would
soon
find out. And when they did, they would infuse you and destroy everything you see here. So, that’s why we kept everything we could from you--
It was to protect you and us
.” Morgan told in a narrative style, like he was giving a news report.

“You see, we are all the
Schism
. We are a group of a nameless amount that had broken off and hidden themselves from the Academy’s grip.” Morgan continued, as Beaver attentively sat in a dusty chair.

In thinking about what was just said, Beaver looked at his hand in great consideration.

“Oh …
don’t worry
about that Beaver2416. This entire place is shielded from the Academy’s Bio-mark scanners. In all our experimentation, it turns out that simple copper, clad with aluminum will block any long-range (short-range is a different story) bio-tracking measures they can come up with. Those caves are filled to the brim with those minerals. Plus, all who dwell here have no such marks imbedded in their flesh.” Morgan continued his dictation.

Beaver’s eyes suddenly widened. To think that a group of people could live without Bio-marks, seemed like a folklore-ish tale of absurdity.

“Now … old Verb-bot here is where you run into
trouble
”--he continued; as he slapped the android on the shoulder.

“All Academy androids have a direct link to the Electron-Bank. You could put him anywhere on Earth, in any condition or place and they would still find him.
Right
? However, this
old boy
has been greatly modified.”--He said with a pause.

All of a sudden Morgan’s stern face turned into a smile as he called—

“
Verb-bot … slap me some skin
!”

The android suddenly changed its posture and walking style. It seemingly strutted across the floor and slapped Morgan’s hand. It then turned and confronted Beaver. 

“
It’s the Bees Knees, Cool cat! Slip me some of that funky five! Radical!
” The robot barked in some sort of mid-ancient dialect that Beaver had never heard before.

“
What
?!” Beaver said, as he was purely bewildered.

“
Gee Wiz! Don’t be goofy! Fer Sure!
” it sounded again.

“
What
?!” Beaver said again, because he had no clue as to what it was asking.

“
Slap his hand
.” Morgan stated with great amusement.

Beaver reluctantly hit the android’s hand, in a strange ritual that bore for him no meaning at all.

“
Proper!
” the odd autonomy shouted, as it walked away to reassume its former positioning.

“
That was amazing! We need an army of these
!” Beaver resounded without forethought.

“
Now … now
… I was only able to find an exploit in this particular model. These things are
pretty rare
. And even if you had an army,
as you say
, I was never able to fully access his motor controls … so your
warriors
would be very
handicapped
in battle.
Now, please don’t interrupt again
”--Morgan squawked, trying to regain his thought process.

“
Oh yes
--since you now know more about us, you need to also know
why
we are here.” Morgan said as he sat down from his pacing at his Lev-desk.

Just then, Morgan stopped his talk. He could see the level of contemplation upon Beaver’s face, about what he had just mentioned. He knew there was something hidden, deep down that Beaver wanted to say, but he was very afraid to.

“
It’s ok. No one here will harm you. What do you want to say?
” Morgan said with a great concern.

Beaver suddenly shut his eyes in fright. Images of the bunker and the deaths of his loved ones flashed before his eyes. He also was entranced with all of the times he was beaten and tortured by Acad-thugs throughout his wretched days. His inner being struggled with a one-sided fierce battle, like fighting a great enemy with a broken sword. He wanted to say what he was thinking, but he knew that his words were forbidden. They were the very words of death upon his tongue, yet he had to let them go free. He was engulfed with his father’s screaming and each syllable pierced his very soul. Haphazardly, he could stand his inner war no more.

“
Is it because of someone named Jesus
?” Beaver cried out like a scared child, with tears rolling from his eyes.

“
Please … Please tell me--Who is he? Why is he important? Why did my father and Matthew scream his name?
” He pleaded with passion, as he was overcome with emotion.

This was the first time in his life that he felt he had the liberty to grieve. His heart was adrift with the outgushing of all the inner sorrow and heartache that he had held on to for all these spans. He was doing something that he was told with seemingly every crack of an electro-whip, never to do.

“
Don’t you cry! Don’t you wail! Just shut up and take it! You failed your Great Master! You failed your Academy! SdotG! SdotG!”

--the Academy scum would scream as he was beaten, sometimes for procs.

They abused him in his adolescence, every time he did not do to perfection what they wanted. This kept him merely existing without feeling or emotion. Beaver was not a sociopath by birth. He was made one, by the rigor of barbarous suffering and torment.

The duo surrounded him and went to their knees, in some sort of ritual that he had never seen or experienced. As Beaver cried, he noticed that they were crying too. It was as if they were feeling his emotion, his pain, and was trying to help him to cope with it. All of a sudden, both of them laid their hands upon Beaver and began speaking many words. As they softly spoke, Beaver was dumbfounded because they both kept saying
in the name of
that forbidden word, along with phrases that seemed to be of another language. Soon, he began to feel an inner calm, a peace surrounding him that caused his crying to stop.

“
Tim … Matthew die-- Matthew died in my arms! I watched him die!
” Beaver trembled with his eyes shut.

As he thought about that terrible life’s episode, suddenly his eyes popped open and widened greatly. In all of the commotion and travels this Decision day, he had forgotten about his entire reasoning for going to the dugout in the first place.

“
Tim’s artifact!--I mean Matthew’s
” Beaver shouted.

The two surrounding him released and stood, not understanding what he was talking about.

“
It was the reason he died--it has to be very important!
” Beaver said with a renewed hope, also standing to his feet from the dusty chair.

“
What are you talking about
?” Morgan spoke inquisitively, as he went back to his Lev-desk.

“
What is it, Beaver
?” Bobble too asked with question.

Beaver then looked down and unclipped his hammersack.

“
Matthew died for this
…” he spoke as he placed the antiquity upon the Lev-desk, under a rusted desk lamp. Morgan’s eyes greatly widened as he looked upon this hidden contraband.

“
Leather!
” Beaver exclaimed, as he too got his first good look.

“
What?!
” Bobble barked at his outburst.

“
It’s leather! That’s how he made it past all the sentries and androids! They probably thought it was simply more clothing!”
Beaver said, bringing more of his personal mystery together.

“…
and you are correct--The Academy never really updated the apparel protocols after everyone started wearing oversuits--that programming is at least 14 spans old! Ha!
” Morgan bellowed, laughing in amusement.

It was to him like the mid-ancient expression that he knew called
sticking it to the Man.
(whoever
the man
even was.)

As they all looked in fascination, they pondered with much confusion. The reason was, engraved and burned into the leather was a foreign writing that perplexed them. It was scrawled in a script, that none of them had any idea, as to what it even was.

“
Verb-bot…translative scanner
!” Morgan shouted, as he pointed at the antiquity. A greenish beam of light flickered from the android’s hand as it scanned the puzzle before them.

“Language unknown…” Verb-bot returned as the light stopped.

“
Wait a tict
”--Morgan said agitated, as he arose from his Lev-seat.

He then seemingly disappeared in the hills and valleys of electronic playthings. After a few moments, he rematerialized holding a small black squareish thing that had metal prongs sticking out of its sides.

“Beaver2416--do you know the best way to shut up a
noisy
salsa?” Morgan said, in a jovial tone.

“
No
…” Beaver quipped, not understanding what a
salsa
was.

“You feed it a chip …” Morgan told, as he shoved the small square into an orifice in the back of Verb-bot.

“
Now … Verb-bot--Translative scanner
.” Morgan echoed, pointing again at the opened leather on the Lev-desk. The beam of light returned and then dimmed slightly after a few moments.

Verb-bot then told his findings—

“
Language found, Grecian
.”

Morgan again sat down in his Lev-seat, with a look of great concern upon his face. Upon watching, Beaver knew that Morgan must have heard of
Grecian
before.

With hesitation, Morgan said “
Ok, Verb-bot--Read.”

The android whirred and clicked, much like the victual android in Beaver’s domicile. After several ticts, it suddenly spoke in an even stranger dialect than before—