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AMBYSSUS | Ch. 12 - The Game
🕑 Added 2023-08-08 07:57:23 +0000 UTCArthurius gulped at hearing his name being mentioned.
“It’ss not everyday that I am impresssed. You’re the wealssiesst man in the country… neigh… the world, without anyone knowing the wisser.”
The black merchant was terrified. No one alive should have known his name nor that he had a daughter. To find his most seclusive and secret safe house, and to even know about Miriam… He felt exposed and naked.
He knew how disarming it was to come to a meeting more well-informed than an opposing party. He had used this move many times. He was in the presence of someone of similar means. Therefore, whatever happened from here would be crucial. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. One didn’t become ruler of the underworld by losing composure.
“Relaxss. My agent hass left long ago. I am merely introdussing myself through Miriam. Sssweet sssweet Miriam.” The black merchant tried not to react to the mention of his daughter’s name. His daughter had been brain-dead for over a decade. He couldn’t get a facial expression or a word out of her. Not even a grunt.
“How are you doing this?”
“You and I are puppeteersss. We pull ssstringsss form the ssshadowsss. My ssstrings are ssspecial. I know how to connectsss my mind to herss.” After a pause, indicating further thought, the voice added. “Like a chain connecting two gearsss in a bysssicle.”
Arthurius didn’t see any chains or strings around his daughter. All he could see was a skin bottle fallen on the floor, and water spilled on the floor. Perhaps a drug he was unfamiliar with. He would have to have a chat with a poison master later.
“Conssidering the technology you have at your dispossal, this...” Miriam's eyes rolled as if gesturing toward the Cerberus, “is a fine brain prossthessiss.” Only the eyes moved since the girl’s head was strapped to the chair. It gave Arthurius an eerie feeling. He had seen much in life. More than he wished. He thought he had developed an immunity to surprise or fear. He stood corrected.
“Am I too far from succeeding?” Arthurius tested.
“That dependss on how you do in our game.”
“What game? Who are you?”
“I told you. I am a fellow puppeteer. A new player in town. I have arrived here resssently wissout a dime, and already became a millionaire right under your nossse. It’s been sso eassy.”
Arthurius was slightly annoyed. These were bold claims. He kept tabs on everything that happened in town. He had heard nothing of any new figures appearing in the underworld. This made him apprehensive. Whoever could avoid his network of spies could not be underestimated. Unless this was not a figure from the criminal underworld but someone playing in the light of day. Could this be the one who had wiped the oil market clean? Arthurius tried not to let anything show on his face.
“What game is this you speak of?”
“A game for your daughter’sss life.”
Arthurius paused. He had climbed his way from an engineer to a criminal mastermind. He had cheated, lied, and stolen from whoever he could. He had manipulated, terminated, and squashed his opposition. All of it had been done to find a way to heal his daughter, embrace her, and speak to her one last time. Even though the Cerberus had come a long way, it was still far from finished and had always been a long shot. This situation seemed impossible and dangerous, but maybe it was his daughter's only chance.
“State your terms.”
“Sssimple. First to make a hundred billion dollars winss.”
A hundred billion dollars? Arthurius thought for a moment. His wealth amounted to half that amount.
“Does our current wealth already count to the game?”
“Yesss.” That means I have a headstart, he thought. My opponent is confident.
“So, if I win, you'll heal my daughter. What if you win?”
“You become my butler.”
“Butler?” The notion was ridiculous. He was the greatest criminal mastermind on the planet. Politicians, law enforcement, and fellow criminals were all little children dancing to the beat of his evil beat, and now this wannabe wanted him to become his butler.
“Yesss. A retired old one such as I could ussse a butler.” Retired? This means he is advanced in years. Maybe he is just trying to throw me off my game.
“What are the rules of the game?”
Miriam smiled. It had been years since Arthurius had seen her beautiful smile, but all it did right now was cause shivers down his spine.
“We can only ussse puppetsss. We can’t intervene directly. If you get to a hundred billion dollarsss firssst you win. If you find my lair, as I have found yoursss you win.”
He was being given every advantage. He was starting from halfway down the race and had multiple win conditions. He wasn’t forbidden from using violence or any other means at his disposal. This meant that this freak was confident.
“Why are you doing this?”
Miriam's eyes started losing their focus. Before the connection was broken entirely the parting words of his invisible opponent answered him.
“Becausse, it’sss fun.”
*
After Joey had dropped Professor Lincoln at the hotel, she told him she would go to the university the following day and test the samples she collected from the lake.
Esther had explained to him that she also wanted to take the day to consult local libraries and compare her findings with other events on record. The mayor had been kind enough to hand her a copy of the key to the library for as long as she was in town. In fact, he had given her the whole keychain with the keys to all the city's libraries. The biggest ones were the Municipal Library which could be accessed through the purple line and wasn't far from Esther's Hotel. The other one was on the New Lisbon University campus.
Since Joey didn’t know his way around books or libraries, the Professor had considered his dead weight and thought better of letting the detective rest so she could count on his keen mind the day after.
The extra day should also give enough time for Dr. Link's expedition to return with additional data they could analyze. The boat was supposed to arrive this afternoon.
After Joey communicated Professor Lincoln's intentions to the commissioner and he, in turn, communicated it to the mayor's office, after some back and forth, Joey got the news that he was so eagerly waiting for. He was given a day off.
Molly was asleep when he arrived last night and was only hearing about this now.
"What? The whole day?" Molly's sparkly eyes and restlessness made Joey feel emotional but also terrified at the excitement the little girl was showing. He could foresee a busy day.
"That's right! We've got the day off to ourselves."
"So, what's the plan?" Marie asked.
"I was thinking about visiting my mother at the hospice in the morning, and then we could go out to lunch and then take Molly to the park."
"Yey! The big park?"
"Sure, honey," answered Marie. "Come, Mom, quick. Help me get dressed." Marie giggled as she was pulled by her daughter toward their bedroom. Joey followed them with his eyes, smiling from ear to ear. It was such a great feeling to be so important to someone. Molly was happy just to have him there.
*
It had been a couple of weeks since Joey had last visited. Sure, the lake incident had been keeping him very busy, but Joey knew that he hadn’t come because it wasn’t easy for him to do so.
It was hard for Joey to see his mother. Every time he came, she was a little older and a little more senile. The distress of seeing his mother’s fractured mind breaking apart was too much for him to bear.
After they gave their names at the reception, a doctor soon came to meet them. He was short and wore thick spectacles. He was a man that walked with small, steady steps. Joey suspected that for which step he took, the doctor took two.
“Good morning, Joey. Hello, Marie,” Joe’s wife performed a short bow in greeting. “And could this be your sister, Constable Joseph?” the doctor playfully teased as he addressed the little girl.
“No! I am not Daddy’s sister! I am his daughter!”
“Oh, pardon me. I thought you were forty years old already.” Molly giggled contentedly at the silly doctor’s jokes.
“How is she doing, doc?”
“Joey, you know there’s nothing we can do but wait. I am afraid that the damage of the cruel poison she was given keeps wreaking havoc on her mind and body.”
Joey squeezed his wife’s hand, and she squeezed it back, trying to impart some comfort. Feeling her papa was down, Molly gently came toward him and hugged his leg. Joey felt that there was something the doctor wanted to say but was holding back.
“What else, doctor? Is everything alright with my mother?”
The doctor briefly hesitated. “I am afraid that since you last visited, she and other patients have been dealing with,” the doctor uncomfortably cleared his throat, “collective hallucinations.”
“Doctor, what is a collective hallucination?” asked Marie.
“Sometimes, in mental institutions such as our own, patients fixate on one person, event, or object. This has been the case for the past weeks,” the doctor explained. “It’s quite rare. There is hardly any research done on this. We have already contacted the psychiatric society to send someone to document this. I am afraid that when you see your mom today, she will ramble on a bit. Please ignore it. It’s all just crazy talk.”
“Mommy? Is grandma OK?”
“Oh, Molly, she’s sick. Very sick. But don’t worry. Once you kiss her and show her the drawing you made for her, she will feel better soon.”
“Where is she?” asked Joey.
“Near the fountain, with the others.”
The mental hospice was a building complex with a garden in the middle. Seeing some green helped soothe the mind, although some workers had more than once cursed the shrubbery and bushes for providing psychotic runaway patients with too many hiding spots.
At the center of the gardens, there was a fountain. Running water could be heard from afar, and clockwork mechanisms made the fountain spout water jets at fixed intervals. Several of the mental hospital patients sat on benches and chairs. They all stared at the water fountain, entranced.
Joey spotted his mother sitting in a wheelchair under the sun. He approached and gently grabbed her hand.
“Ma, it’s me. Joey.” She kept staring at the fountain, but Joey felt his mother’s grip tighten around his hand. “I have brought Marie, my wife, and your granddaughter, Molly.”
Hearing her dad’s queue, Molly swiftly climbed onto her grandmother’s lap and told her about her day at school and playmates, and then showed her the drawing she had made of them together as a family. The grandmother never stopped looking at the fountain, but her facial expression softened.
“Grandma, please, tell me a story.” Joey took a step toward Maggie to explain that grandmother had a tough time speaking. Joey himself hadn’t heard his mother’s voice for several weeks.
“Certainly, my dear,” spoke Joey’s mother, freezing him on the spot. He looked up at Marie, only to find her throwing him back a surprised look.
“Once upon a time, there was a world. A big world, much bigger than Earth. It was covered in water. In this world lived a naughty little octopus.” The grandmother stopped. “Hmmm… it was not an octopus. It was more the water. Or was it an eye in the end? Anyway, this clever, beautiful creature had a talent for making trouble and amassing wealth."
Joey stood dumbfounded. He hadn't heard his mother put two words together in years, and suddenly she'd become an eloquent storyteller. What was going on?
"After centuries of… legitimate business practices, there was no more wealth to pillage in its world. All the money on the planet became his, and contemplating his treasure trove, the magnificent entrepreneur learned something only rich folk can: a neighbor’s silver is more precious than one's gold.
Therefore, his majesty set out for the stars. Oh… the riches it gained! Rubies from Antillaris, emeralds from Sirius, and pearls from Omax. At one point, he had been so rich that he’d bought a planet and had built two moons, one made of solid gold and another made of pure sapphire. Alas, jealousy is a powerful force. Driven by unreasonable and unjustified hatred, authorities and courts made preposterous claims, and he was forced to liquidate his fortune and make a run for it.
When navigating the blackness of space, now older and wiser, he thought of the joy he had felt every time he came to a planet with nothing and built an empire from scratch. It was the journey that gave him pleasure, not the destination. It was the game that filled his belly, not the prize.
That was when he decided on his course, he would go to an old world, one that didn’t know nor was known by other distant stars, and one last time use his brilliance and have fun building a home for him to retire and spend the rest of his days.”
Molly seemed delighted with the tale.
"Grandma, you tell this story so well. No one at school tells it better."
"What do you mean, Molly? Have you heard this story before?" asked Marie, puzzled.
"Have you never heard the story of Ambyssus?" asked Molly innocently. Joey stopped. There was that name again.
“Ambyssus? Isn't that the story all your friends have talked about at school lately?"
"Yes! All my friends know this story." Joey could swear he had never heard the name 'Ambyssus' until a few days ago. Suddenly, it was as if the name had spread like wildfire.
"Honey, I have been hearing more and more of this word over the last week."
"It's true, isn't it? Now that you mention it..."
"Have you ever heard it before?"
"Not that I recall." So it wasn't just Joey. He wasn't going crazy.
"Don't you find it strange that a word that we never heard before he's being spoken by everyone in the city?"
"I don't know, Joey. You know how quickly novelties spread among the children. Perhaps one of the children told one of these patients, and because they're so impressionable, they have become fixated on it."
Joey paused. For the first time, he noticed an oddity about the hospice today. The sound of conversations was louder than usual. He observed people around him. It was visiting hours, so other families talked to loved ones. He started to pay attention to what the patients said to the family.
“Have I told you that Ambyssus can see from kilometers away?” An old man excitedly shared with his grandchildren.
“Whenever I am close to the fountain, it’s as if I can hear him singing to me,” a young woman told her mother.
“Last night, I won against Arthur on Domino. Ambyssus was so proud of me when I told it to him in my dreams,” bragged a man to his brother.
There was something wrong here, very wrong. How could a word become so widespread in such a short time? How could so many hospitalized people who were usually catatonic speak so much? Joey's mind wired for an investigation started clicking and connecting facts. There was the flood, the graffiti, Geoffrey's painting, and the children on the train platform.
"Do you think it's connected to what happened in the lake?" "Don't you think that you might be looking too much into this? It's just a tale told by children."
"And mentally unstable people."
Marie gave him a look.
"You're probably right, Marie. It's just that I've been so tense with this whole flood thing and..."
"That's why you've taken the day off. Stop thinking like a detective, and start thinking like a husband and a father spending the day with his family. You're talking crazy, Joey."
"I'm sorry." His wife was probably right. He was thinking about this too much. There was no way that the two things could be connected. He tried to force his mind off the subject. "Now, where do you girls want to have lunch?"
*
Monday had arrived. The hustle and bustle of the city slowly woke the town from its weekend’s slumber. Apprehension over the soaring inflation still hung in the air. All the rest followed once fuel prices went up. Agricultural work was done extensively by steam-powered tractors.
Factories relied on the fuel to feed their furnaces and engines. Transportation extensively relied on sirenia. The good news was that the lake's waters had been steadily receding. Producers could clean their parlors and resume oil production even if they didn't move their facilities yet.
Joey waited for Esther at the lounge of the hotel. The decoration was not overly luxurious but was tasteful. Tables with glass lids and white carved metal legs gave the space elegance. The chairs covered in gray and green cornucopias added to the style of the room. Curtains were of a beige tinge, and walls featured various paintings with landscapes of the Grassum Lake or the Aurum River.
Joey sat in the lounge with a view of the busy street outside. People walked to and fro. It was commuting time. Many were going to work. Joey noticed a bulky man in an apron with singed mustaches or burns. That seemed to be a blacksmith. His eyes were drawn next to a man pedaling a bicycle with a rucksack strapped around his shoulder. Joey thought for a moment. It was a tinkerer or a locksmith if Joey had to guess. As he played this little game to fill the minutes until the professor came down, a glimmer of light caught his eye.
On another table near him, golden apple syrup ran down a glorious stack of pancakes. It looked delicious. When the waiter caught him staring at the pancakes, he came to ask him if he would like a portion for himself or some coffee. Joey thanked him but dismissed him. Since Joey’s parents were poisoned, he never ate or drank anything that hadn’t been prepared in front of his eyes. Not even kings of old were as paranoid about poisoning as Joey was.
“Good morning, Joey,” greeted Esther.
“Good morning, professor. How was your Sunday? Read much?”
“I would say I read enough. Yes. I trust that you were able to rest well.”
“Yes, ma'am. You?”
“I can't say I have, constable, no.”
Seeing Esther sitting down, the waiter came to take her order.
“I won’t have anything to eat or drink, thank you. But I would like to have a copy of today’s newspaper.” The waiter turned around and went to attend to Esther’s request.
“It’s going to be a long day, professor. Are you sure you don’t want to have a good breakfast?”
She regarded him curiously.
"I thought you'd noticed, constable."
"Notice what?"
"No need to play the fool. I know you noticed. I do the same as you do, or rather I don't do what you don't do." Joey had noticed. After a few awkward moments of silence, the professor answered the question he hesitated to ask.
“Have you heard of dracunculiasis?”
Joey shook his head. He hadn’t.
“You see, I have a bit of a trauma. One of my first trips as an academy emissary was to visit a town where everyone had fallen ill. People would develop blisters, and parasites would crawl out of the wounds. It was disgusting.” Joey could see how Esther shivered as she recalled the experience. He felt a knot in his stomach.
“There was no way of killing the parasite. You just had to help the patient stay still as it painfully crawled out; otherwise, the parasite could die inside the body and rot, resulting in infection and death. We eventually narrowed it down to unclean water. Worms laid their eggs in the water, making the village's people sick.
It was one of the grossest things I've seen, Joey. I still have nightmares about it. One of my colleagues, Barry, died because of it. He wasn’t careful enough with what he ate and drank. You can imagine how painful his death was. Since then, I can’t stand to have anything to eat or drink that I'm not sure is safe. I boil all the water I drink for at least fifteen minutes. I also make sure to prepare all my food.”
"For me, it was my..."
"It's OK, Joey. I read about it in the newspaper. Who hasn't heard of the great Jebediah? My mentor was the dean at Opportunity School back in the day."
"You knew Professor Niven?"
"He spoke well of your father. He was a great man. I even recall him talking about his son a couple of times."
Joey sighed. What were the odds? More importantly, how likely was it that the investigators shared similar traumas? As the waiter brought the newspaper, Esther opened it and skimmed through it.
“Anything interesting?” asked Joey.
“I would say so, yes. Do you recognize anyone here?” She asked as she showed him the featured article. The headline read, “Local Hero Saves the World.”
