Now that I had a partner, such as he was, I needed to keep him occupied during down time. I chose him largely because he was good with his hands. I had old equipment sitting around, and while I didn't think he could necessarily handle it any better than I could, I was positive there was no one else around that could even begin to think about it. You see, the entire Guardian Industries complex belonged to me. Don't ask me why. I'm fairly certain I'll spill the beans on that bit of luck later on.

                After I kicked his boy-toy out, I was more willing to allow him access to the rest of the warehouse.  I didn't want just anyone having run of the place. All I needed was the Brotherhood coming down on me. It wasn't that I couldn't handle them, merely that an all out war wasn't going to benefit anyone. OK, so I wasn't equipped to take on an army. They kept a low profile when it came to being armed, but I knew damn well they had be confiscating weapons for centuries. I doubted the melted them down for scrap!

                I flipped on the switches that lit up the warehouse. It took a moment for the power to wake up and flow through the wiring. Lights began flickering on randomly before they got into sync. By the time the last one was lit, Bolshoi was a quivering mess on the floor of the balcony. I suppose the sight of thousands of pieces of outlawed old-tech was a little overwhelming.  Add to that hundreds of crates, boxes and canisters, well…

                I let him get himself in order before we headed down the stairs. The first thing I wanted him to do was look over my cycle. It as a sharp piece of work and I doubted there was another intact one in the city. As it was, most of the original parts had been replaced with brass and copper ones. The new cycles were all hydrocarbon fuel based, a new fangled thing some bright boy had found to do with the bubbling black springs to the south, past the giant shield of rock The Hub sat on. This was an old protean drive model, probably around five to seven hundred years old. The drive was a multivariable, dual crystal, ion exchange power plant that was self-renewing. It operated on the same principle as the warehouse itself. The problem was parts. The warehouse probably had them, but quite honestly, I had no desire to root around myself. It was boring and I didn't like boring things.

                Bolshoi was walking around like a kid in a candy shop. His fingers traveled across the copper and brass parts like he was in a dream. He never said a word, just kept walking, looking and touching.  We wandered for over an hour, going ever deeper into the bowels of the building. At one point we went farther than I had ever bothered going in my entire life. To be honest, I just wasn't that curious. The factory had been in operation for so long even my father couldn't remember it running. If I had been, I might have found what we were about to find, and it was a good thing I hadn't found it alone. I probably would have put my fist into it.

                It all started when he found a crate marked as possibly holding parts for the bike. I pulled the ones from on top and tossed them to the side so we could get to the one we wanted. In doing so we uncovered a door. Now an unknown door wasn't very frightening, but I was still cautious. Someone seemed to have gone out of their way to block it off.

                Bolshoi tried the handle, only to discover it locked. That never stopped me. I gripped it and tore it loose from its moorings. Inside the room nothing was visible. I reached through the doorway and fumbled for a switch. My thick fingers tripped across a plate and I gave it a push. It took a moment for the lights to whir to life. A few units popped on and off like a lightning storm before they stabilized.

                The room as filled with equipment of a style that didn't even register on my brain. It was seemingly here as storage, but was placed in a functional order. Bolshoi let out a high pitched yelp of excitement. It caught me off guard and I nearly punched him.

                “Chill foxy boy. I have no idea just what the hell this is all about. It has nothing to do with Guardian. It can't. Look, the tags say something else." I brushed my fingers across the console, dislodging centuries of dust. There was an ID tag molded right into the framework. I don't know what I was expecting, but the three letters spelled out G.O.D.  

                Bolshoi was literally crawling over the stuff. “Does it still work?"               

                It was a stupid question. I bashed my fist on the wall next to me. “How the hell should I know? Until a few minutes ago I didn't know this room was here!"

                Apparently my fist did something best left undone. I hit the power panel. A few sparks flew from the unit before the machinery began humming to life. Lights appeared from under the layers of dust. Operating fans kicked in, blowing clouds of dust into the air. I was preparing to retreat when another group of fans sprang to life, sucking the dust to who knew where.  I looked over to my partner to find him standing in total disbelief.

                “Veracity…this shouldn't be here."

                “Where the hell should it be? And for that matter, what is it?"

                “It can't be what I think it is. There's no way it could be. I saw it in a book once. But it's impossible." He was going to have to tell me where he found a book of sufficient age to explain this. The Brotherhood had gone out of its way to wipe the original texts from public viewing.

                “Fine! It's impossible. Great! So what the hell is it?"

                He didn't answer. Instead, he brushed the dust off, watching as it was sucked into some invisible air handlers. One of the machines had a circular black panel on top. As his hand ran across it the machine lit up even brighter. He jumped back like it had bit him. I just chuckled.

                “What's the matter little one? Afraid of the big bad machine?" I continued to wipe away the dust. As my hand passed over the disc, it became frozen in place. A voice came from the machine. “Please hold while your recognition scan is complete." Despite my strength, I couldn't move my arm. It lasted just long enough for me to be engaged in pulling with all my might when it let go. Needless to say, I went flying to the floor in a heap. My partner snickered.

                I was pissed enough to grab him up and force his hand on the machine. He yipped when the thing got a hold of him. Whatever the field was it was enough to keep him in place while I let go. If I couldn't move, neither would he. The machine repeated the same monotone warning it had for me. This time when it let go, it was his turn to get dumped on the floor.

                We both stared at the machine as it hummed to life. It kept repeating the same word over and over, “calculating, calculating, calculating." After a few minutes of this I spoke to the room in general. “If all this thing is going to do is talk, I think I'd prefer it to shut up!"

The voice stopped momentarily only to pose a question. “Input. Desire for unit to continue in silent mode?"

                I wasn't certain about that, but it sounded good to me. “Uh…yes?"

                “Unit will continue to process data until present queue is examined and categorized. Desire to open frequency channels prior to obtaining results?"

                “Uh…sure?" I stammered.

                “Compliance."

                Another part of the machine sprang to life. Bolshoi seemed to have gotten his courage back, returning to dusting off the console. As he did, a series of lights embedded in the unit glowed red. “What did I just do?"

                “Like I have any idea what you just did. Maybe we should quit messing with this stuff, turn it all back off and act like we never found it." I wasn't afraid, just naturally cautious. Like I said, someone seemed to have hidden this away for a reason.

                The little fool was examining the face of the control panel. Instead of having brass switches, it was a flat opaque plate with the light coming up from somewhere inside the machine. “I read about this in a book I found, an ancient book that had indestructible pages. It isn't like any of the paper ones they've made for the past few hundred years. This thing is a communicator."

                I had communicators. None of them were monsters like this. What was the point in having something you couldn't carry around with you? “A communicator to where? This thing is huge!"

                He tried fiddling with the controls. Nothing happened immediately. The machine spoke up again. “Controls locked pending verification."

                “Verification of what?" I spouted at the contraption.

                “Verification of proper DNA sequencing. Use of this terminal is restricted to users authorized by the Prime Originator. Only Prime designates may use the terminal. Verification is presently seventy three percent complete on the first subject." 

                So much for this thing shutting up. I was going to ask it another question, but figured that seventy three percent of whatever it was doing meant it was almost done. There was no point in getting it mad at me. Bolshoi apparently had no such qualms.

                “What is the purpose of this device?"

                The machine whirred to life again. “Designated purpose of G.O.D. Communicator is to contact Prime Originator."

                It was rare that I felt fear. The feeling was creeping up my backbone. I had a few questions of my own. “Who is this Originator?

                The machine seemed to be thinking on it. “Limited database without authorization. Authorization pending. Authorization pending…"

                Bolshoi was shaking with excitement. “Do you realize what this means? It means all the ancient tales are true. There is a God!"

                I snorted, recovering some of my usual demeanor. “According to the Brotherhood, the only way to God is through them. Are you trying to tell me that this hunk of metal will do it instead?"

                The machine lit up like a meteor in the night sky. “Verification complete. Designation Equial, bipedal; intelligence ranking, Prime. Biology ranking, Prime. Gender, male. DNA results show seventh generational changes from original concept. Life signs show above average evolution. Twenty percent mass increase from original concept." It went quiet for a moment. “Please input data. Name?"

                I wasn't sure what to tell it, so I told it the truth. “Veracity Harms."

                “Subject Veracity Harms now has access to all G.O.D.  files and protocols. Do you wish to make an informational request?"

                “Sure. Who the hell invented you? And who is this God person? Personally I never believed he existed."

                “G.O.D. files are extensive. Please narrow down the scope of your request."

                “Narrow down? Sure. How about if I just ask him myself?" I thought I was being really clever. I'd show this machine what for!"

                “Request accepted. Tuning long range frequencies. Finding the antenna array. Testing circuits. This will require time to retune the array for proper subspace channels. Please stand by."

                I wasn't a coward, but even I knew that I had just overstepped my bounds. No one talked to God! Well, I suppose you could talk to him, but it seemed like I was going to “talk" with him. It made me feel small inside. That's no easy thing to do.

                The machine hummed for a while, once in a while making crackling noises. Sounds echoes from the warehouse. Creaks and groans of things long silent made eerie noises. They stopped. The voice came back. “Channels now tuned. Preference?"

                “Preference for what you stupid machine?"

                “Preference for available channels? This unit has ten million, four hundred thousand eight hundred and sixty five available channels. It has a single line wavelength designation of two two three point seven one five point six nine zero seven."

                “Just do what you think is best." I said with as little emotion as I could. I was thankful my partner was keeping his yap shut. I was growing concerned, and that made me jittery. When I was jittery, bad things happened.

                “Affirmative. Broadcasting on designated frequency. Please wait for confirmation."

                And wait we did. I was getting hungry and so was he.  We hadn't figured on being down here this long. Now I didn't want to miss anything, and he would likely get lost, so we sat with empty stomachs and growing expectations. I grumbled about the lack of food, to which Bolshoi replied, “Why don't you ask the machine?"

                It wasn't going to hurt. “Hey machine! Ya got any food?"

                Up came that monotone voice. “Food, designated protein packets, can be found in locker designated F.S. one four three on sublevel two."

                That was news to me. I've lived here my whole life and never knew there was a sublevel two. I doubted the food would be any good anymore. It was a matter of going back to my living quarters or sitting here hungry. I sat where I was. Besides, if things got too bad, I could always eat my Vulp friend. Don't worry, I'm just kidding! Still…

                We were startled out of the silence of our thoughts by the machine announcing, “Designated contact source found. Designated recipient is located at zero point five five zero nine Gamma. Waiting for confirmation from onboard communication computer."

                I had no idea what any of that meant.  The machine lit up and went into a frenzy of activity. “System upgrade is in progress. Host computer is performing software overwrite. Host computer is overriding original protocols. System reboot necessary." Then the damn thing shut down. The lights went dead, the humming stopped and…nothing.

                I was pissed. “I've been down here starving to death for hours waiting on this thing to turn itself off?" Bolshoi shrugged. He wasn't as vocal in his disappointment, but it was still evident.  That was when I noticed a single blue light blinking. It was still alive, if that was the correct word for it.

                The lights came on again. A new voice came across. It was decidedly female. “System reboot and new system configuration complete. Please state your name."

                Stupid machine. “Veracity Harms."

                “Verified. Please wait while contact is established with Prime Originator."

                I've never shit my pants, but I nearly did at those words. Unless this was some old, elaborate hoax that had been sitting here in the dark for nearly five hundred years, I was going to be talking with the one who created everything and everyone!

                The next voice to come through the machine was initially flat toned, though distinctly male. It sounded confused. “This signal originates from System M Nine Zeta Six Six. Loss of signal occurred nearly 500 solar years  ago local time. Must be errant equipment power-up and error."

                Bolshoi leaned into the microphone and spoke. “Helllooooo?"

                There was a delay. “Well by all that's holy and that which is not! Is there still life on my Great Experiment?"