Studholme - Chronicles of brendan earle, apprentice mage. totally interactive. autosaved

TotallyInteractive

(Autosaved)

Published by Bob Studholmeat Smashwords.

Copyright Bob Studholme2012.

Contents

Smashwords Edition, LicenseNotes

This ebook is licensed foryour personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold orgiven away to other people. If you would like to share this bookwith another person, please purchase an additional copy for eachrecipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, orit was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respectingthe hard work of this author.

Thanks toMaxine, who first suggested that I should write and to Margaret whoused my stories as jokes in her English classes. Also to Steve,Tony, Carlos, Charlie and Peter for all of the music. Many, manythanks to Stewart for reading this first and all of the ideas hesparked which made it better. Thanks to Alistair, Patreshia andother members of Sand the A lAin Writers Group, for support andencouragement. And much gratitude to Aki and Midori for putting upwith me while I wrote it and told them all about it.

Prologue

My name is Gaia, and thisdocument my testimony of the Last Days and the Resurrection tocome.

You will not find me inthese pages. This is the story of Grandfather and those he saved.The tale is told in their voices, and so of them you will meetmany. One might say a legion.

What was for them anadventure was, for my family, the beginning of our history. So thisis, in many ways, an indispensable part of my story and that thereason why I must introduce myself. My achievements are not modest;still, I do but continue the Great Work of saving and convertingwhich Grandfather and my parents began.

Ours is an uncommonchronicling, as we are an uncommon family, so I will commend to youthe words of Sir Francis Bacon, who wrote, in The Advancement ofLearning:

If a manwill begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he willbe content to begin with doubts, he shall end incertainties.

For those who tell youthis tale did not know all of its twists, and what they knew, theydid not always tell clearly. Moreover, I am my Grandfathersgrandchild, and we spin stories as spiders do webs.

Let me begin

*

McLeod watched as the twosettled back onto the couches and were helped into helmets. Despitehimself, he felt unease on seeing his daughters face covered bythe visor. It made her look an insect-headed alien, and, in someway he couldnt have explained, made the sticking-out wisp of herbrown hair look stolen. The techs jacked them both to the centralunit and reclined the couches to the horizontal.

Then the guy beside himspoke.

Okay,

A hushed voice, notwhispering, but as if at a bedroom door and not wanting to disturbthe occupant.

Morerespect than that bloody suit showed .

Here we go.The tech tapped his touch-screen and both reclining figures tooksmall, sharp in-breaths, followed by soft sighs.

Likeher falling asleep . The tension McLeodhadnt been aware of holding released as both bodiesrelaxed.

Well thenMr. McLeod, thats about it for now. The first stage will takeabout fifteen to twenty minutes for her, perhaps a few more forhim, then theyll have their day. Shell be back with you in Hewiggled a hand in a more-or-less gesture, fifty minutes to anhour. She might have a bit of jet-lag, because of the timedifference.

Its thatunsure, is it?

Its case bycase. Weve usually found kids are quicker to connect, so wellprobably have to hold her back a few minutes while he catches up.The compression is set for a half hour, though, that partscertain. Once weve got them both logged in, wed be able to dothis again in about thirty seconds. And the commercial version willcompress much more than this, of course. He grinned, No one wantsto wait for as long as half an hour to live a day nowadays,eh?

Was it likethis with the others?

Well, notthe characters, no. His eyes glanced back at some memory, whilehis mouth twisted to suggest a tangled situation. They all took aminimum of a weekend; some of them two, but those had to be muchmore detailed readings, being as we dont have them availablereal-time, like this. But weve all been in there, and for us,yeah, I suppose, pretty much like this. Youll have to try ityourself some time.

Not reallymy thing; having my mind read and all.

Oh, take myword for it, its a blast in there, youd love it. Youve read thebooks, I take it?

The firsttwo as bed-time stories. After that Fee read them herself, and Igot all the details over the table at meals.

Yeah, minesnine and were at that stage with her too. Well, theres nothingmuch more to see here, erm, would you like a coffee or somethingwhile youre waiting?

Aye, thatdbe grand.

They left the room.Another tech watched, impatient, till theyd exited, immediatelychanged the compression factor on both screens, initiated thesimulation, and then left as well, his mind on something strongerthan coffee. The two on the couches slumbered on, unsupervised,save by the machine.

A watcher might havenoticed the girls touch-screen reading flicker, and, like amalevolent stagehand removing a vital prop, the characterassignment figure change from 1001 to 321. But you are the onlywatcher, dear reader, and your observation does not collapse anywave form. It will not change the story back.

For, in that moment,history altered. No, please dont think that melodramatic. Ivethought about it very, very carefully, and that statement isntexaggeration at all.

Adam

It was night. For somereason, Id been expecting a storm, but, although very dark, it waswarm and pleasant. I was standing near the top of avertigo-inducing set of stairs. Somewhere outside, in a city withtraffic noise. Somewhere with stone walls, cobbled streets andperhaps a faint smell of after-the-pub-piss. I had a moment ofthinking I knew this place before the memory clicked and I realizedit was the Dog Leap Stairs, going down to the Quayside. Newcastle?Was that right? Was it supposed to start here, or was that justbecause it was me doing the crossing?

Someone touched my arm,and I got an impression of there being several other people withme. The one nearest ushered me on towards the stairs and started alow chanting. Something about the rhythm made it sound familiar,but I couldnt place where Id heard it before.

It lasted for only amoment, seconds at the most, but there was an odd sense of the tonepersisting after the voice had stopped. Something like a fingerround the top of a wineglass, but right at the edge of hearing.Then the scene straight in front of me broke, pixelated and flowedaway, like watching sand fall through an egg-timer from above.Someone walked into that warp in the air, melted and swirled tonothing.

The hand touched me on thearm again, urging me forward. A voice, a mans, the accent NorthernIrish, said, Dont worry, just walk straight into the Gate, youllbe grand. I didnt understand why, but I believed him and walkedon before thinking, of course Id be alright, how could anythinghere hurt me?

As my foot touched theedge of the swirl, it broke up and flowed away. That wasnt justwhat I saw; it was exactly how it felt. Id have pulled back withthe shock, but I had no time. Before I could do anything, Idbecome a million grains of Adam, flowing and falling, but somehowdoing it straight forward. I would have screamed, but my throat hadgone. Then my mind fell away and there was nothing.

The grains of sand crashedback into each other and somehow became me again. An improvement onbeing nothing, yes, but not an experience I could enjoy. My skinwas trying to crawl off my body and my stomach up my throat. Bothfeelings went quickly, but I didnt feel good. Some aspects ofverisimilitude could easily be cut, to my way ofthinking.