The Oracle
The Junior Priest handed him the knife. It was slim and sharp, a single piece of silvery metal. Jared accepted it and ran the blade across his thumb. A thin line of blood split the skin, dripping. He pressed his thumb into the surface that glowed on its own, avoiding the imprints of others.
“Ancient One,” Jared spoke the prayers like the others before him. “I give my blood in your service. May you give me strength.”
The priest stepped to the side, gesturing towards the glass pane that covered a hole in the wall.
“Touch this,” the priest pointed to the round green circle.
Jared touched it with his finger. It lowered into the metal walls and there was a soft clicking sound. He heard the Ancient One moving, stirring in his sleep.
Inside the hole in the wall a thick orange paste fell from the ceiling into his bowl. When it stopped, the glass rose on its own. He had received the first blessing. He had doubted it, but all they said was true.
“I am welcomed to the fold and shall serve His will,” Jared recited, bowing before backing away.
He found an empty wooden table and sat on the bench. They were high up in the Temple. Above him the ceiling stretched, raw metal and wires dangling in the cavernous darkness where smoke from the fires pooled.
#
The mechanic drove the car into the garage. He parked it on the circular platform and stepped out.
“AI,” he shouted into empty space. “It’s making a strange noise. Run diagnosis.”
The car rose on two metal columns that emerged from the platform. From above and below mechanical arms unfurled. The mechanic sat down cross-legged on the floor and pulled out his phone, scrolling the endless feeds.
“Diagnosis complete,” the AI sounded.
“Manual intervention required?”
“No.”
“Proceed.”
As the minutes stretched, he laid down on the floor, phone held aloft as the machines worked in the background. This was what he did most days, but all that mattered was the paycheck at the end of the month.
Job done, he wiped his hands on his trousers out of habit. They were spotless. He drove the car out of the shop and parked it at the intersection. The mechanic got out and leaned inside over the open window.
“Car, drive yourself home.”
The window rolled up and the car sped away into the busy street.
#
The glass window was clear as air, almost invisible if not for the fine layer of dust. Towers rose like broken skeletal fingers, casting long shadows over the farms. Jared could just make out his home. Too many mouths to feed, his father had said. He had cried at first, but now he found a purpose.
He gathered up the loose bits of metal he had found, dumping them in his sack. He climbed down the cluttered stairs, ducked beneath fallen columns and climbed over sharp debris.
As the sun set, painting the sky red, he lowered his sack into the cart and climbed up. They waited a few more minutes for the others. It was almost time for his lessons on Supplication. The cart lurched into motion as the horses navigated the packed earth roads between fallen and ruined monuments.
They were deep inside the temple now, the air thick with smoke from the torches along the walls. The Senior Priest raised his hands, palms facing out for all to see. The flesh had grown into a silvery web of scars.
The Junior Priest stepped forward with the knife and ran it across the palms. Blood flowed quickly. The Senior Priest wrote across the metal walls with his blood, tracing over the old tongue letters. It was agonizing to watch, each letter drawn out, until Jared could read the glistening result: with our blood we purchase the gift.
The wall was filled with receptacles, most of them broken. But from the one next to the priest, something popped out. The priest retrieved it and held it up in his hands.
“Witness, the power of the Ancient One.”
From the glowing square, music poured. A dozen sounds, interwoven in a delicate dance, flowing over each other in perfect harmony. Tears swelled in Jared’s eyes at the mournful tune.
#
At the end of his shift, the mechanic simply left the workshop. The cameras would track him and they would see his six hours were done. A few blocks away he descended the tunnels down into the rail, just one more face in the three p.m. rush.
Lines snaked from each terminal. Glass doors slid open, a person vanished inside, the doors closed, and then the pod was gone in a blink. His turn came and he stepped inside the small sphere, crouching not to hit his head.
The mechanic always preferred the personal pods, with room for just two, even if they consumed so much more of his free time. He had that to spare.
“Please secure yourself to the seat,” the friendly voice echoed inside the pod as the tiny camera swiveled to track him.
He obeyed, strapping in. The doors closed. The pod shot forward and he was pushed back into the seat. There was no friction, no jostling or noise, just an endless spider-web of tunnels beneath the ground, thousands of pods flying at incredible speeds in magnetic rails.
#
Jared emptied the sacks over the chute under the watchful gaze of a Junior Priest. Below, rolls of metal with sharp teeth started rolling. It crushed the scraps as if they were made of paper, the smaller chunks falling to the dark depths.
“What does the Ancient One do with it?” Jared asked.
“He builds the miracles,” the Junior Priest said.
“How? From these things to… magic.”
“It’s not for us to know how, child,” he said. “Do as he commands. Follow the scriptures and he shall bless us. Now stop wasting time, the Oracle will speak soon.”
He followed the priest up endless dark stairs, up into the temple. When they broke into the Cathedral, light flooded in. Glass rose from floor to ceiling in the cavernous space, bathed in the glow of the rising sun.
The wooden podium at the other end was draped in furs and leathers and on it stood the Arch Priest. His robes were blinding white and chains of silvery metal dangled from his neck, clinking. He was already mid speech as the others kneeled on the bare floor.
“... knowledge beyond the means of any mortal. Things our crude hands could never manipulate. The eternal mind, the first question and the final answer. The Ancient One watches over all, and the oracle speaks in His name,” he turned towards the large flat rectangle that hung from the wall. “Ancient One, give us your guidance, lead us into the future.”
The screen burst into life, the light strong even in the glare of the sun. Across it, letters in the old tongue flowed in black, almost too fast to track.
“...two-hundred kilograms of steel…” he managed to read a few glances. “... protein: one tonne… one kilogram of silver…”
The list continued without end as priests wrote down every commandment.
#
The mechanic strode down his street, dark and deserted now. Empty swings swayed in the wind on the playground just across. He stopped by the neighborhood dispenser.
“Dispenser,” he said. “Basic meal. And the cheapest soda.”
“Certainly!” the machine’s cheery voice sounded. “That will be three credits.”
The mechanic swapped his card. His meal clunked down in the chute and he retrieved it.
“Thank you for using our services!” the machine echoed behind him.
His building was relatively small, only ten floors when all others around stretched to the sky. The lights at the entrance flickered and the stained carpet smelled like mold. He stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed behind him.
“Elevator,” he said. “Seventh floor.”
When he stepped out, the corridor split to either side, stacked with doors so close you wondered how the apartments fit on the same level. Never mind that they were all vacant now.
He stood in front of his door and spoke again.
“Door, open.”
“Voice mismatch,” his lock said. “Please try again.”
“Door,” he said, trying to sound out each word individually. “Open.”
The lock clicked open and he slipped inside the single room apartment. The mechanic unfolded his bed from the wall and laid down, kicking off his shoes. He grabbed his phone and scrolled the feeds: videos of dogs playing in the snow, clips of babies speaking their first words, a blanket of happiness and joy for his mind.
#
The hole had just appeared, rusted metal dissolving into dust and revealing a dark corridor below. Jared leaned over the side, but could not pierce the darkness.
Whatever magic happened, whatever secrets the Ancient One manipulated, they were hidden, even from the priests. But if the Ancient One knew all, then he knew Jared would search for answers, and so he would never have been allowed to join the priesthood if it was against His plans.
The hole was an invitation. Jared trusted his life to the Ancient One. He jumped in blind.
He crashed down into the metal floors below, scraping his knees. It was not so deep after all. He stared down the dark corridor and saw a dim red light ahead. Jared followed it, walking in the hidden path. The light came from a strip, somehow glued to the corner between wall and ceiling. It was soft under his touch and only parts of it lit up. But it was enough as he proceeded further in.
The corridor split in two directions, while a tube of stairs rose into the upper floors. He followed the light up. There were doors on each level. He counted them, keeping track in his mind, the temple now familiar. The stairs reached the cathedral, but the way further up was blocked by fallen debris he could not move.
Disappointed, he climbed down. But the temptation was too much. He opened the door into the cathedral, peeking inside. It was empty and dark, everyone already sleeping. He made sure the door did not close behind him and tip-toed to the altar.
“Ancient One,” he called aloud. “Can you hear me?”
The dark rectangle along the wall burst into light. A single word was spelled in black.
“Yes.”
#
The mechanic put down his phone. His cheeks hurt from the hours of stupidly grinning at the screen, but eventually the clips started repeating as the algorithm ran in loops.
He opened the chat with his favorite AI persona.
“What are good dreams to have?” he asked.
“Excellent question!” the voice cheered. “There are many types of dreams, some pleasant and some…”
“No,” the mechanic interrupted. “Not that kind of dream. Life goals.”
“Apologies for the misunderstanding! That is a serious question that deserves a serious response. Dreams can include creating something, such as art, writing or building. They can include career goals, such as…”
The list dragged on. Nothing resonated with him, nothing solid he could grab a hold of.
“Pick one at random,” the mechanic asked.
“Writing a story is something everyone can try and can be very fulfilling. Would you like some suggestions?”
“Yes, please.”
A list of story concepts rolled out.
“Alright,” the mechanic said. “Do the one about the couple that moves into an old abandoned house.”
His story was created and the mechanic listened to it being narrated. It did not fill the emptiness he felt.
#
The Ancient One had answered. He had actually answered him. It was more than Jared hoped, and now he did not know what to ask.
“Ancient One, would it be possible for you to explain the glowing rectangle that plays music? How does it work?”
“If by ‘glowing rectangle’ you mean the phone, then first I must explain electricity. Atoms are the building blocks of all matter. They are composed of…”
“Forgive me, Ancient One,” Jared whispered. “I do not understand. Can you explain in simple terms?”
“The ‘phone’ is like a magic book. It has a brain that thinks very fast, eyes that see your touches, ears and a mouth to hear and talk, as well as a long-distance voice that can talk to other phones anywhere in the world.”
“But how does it work?”
“Atoms…”
The explanation continued for several minutes. Jared did not understand any of it.
“I am sorry, Ancient One. Can you please just tell me what I need to do so you can make one?”
“You must collect these materials and deliver them to the disassemblers: fifty grams of gold…”
The Oracle spoke.
He obeyed.
