11
BENE
THE UNIVERSITY OF GERICH ASSET RECOVERY TEAM
EASTERN RENDEROS
Magister Roaoo held up a tiny spoon between his thumb and forefinger. “What is this?”
“Yet another trick question,” said Bene.
Roaoo shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“All right then, I’ll bite. It’s a spoon. Really small one.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it looks like one?”
“All right,” said Roaoo, setting the spoon aside. “Let’s agree that you have knowledge of the name of a thing. So, what does it do?”
“You eat with it.”
Roaoo shook his head. “Think about it. I asked you what it does.”
“I knew this was a trick question,” said Bene with a frown. “Um, it scoops up food?”
“Really? All by itself?”
Bene blew out his cheeks. “All right, then, I’ll try to be more specific. A spoon is used, er, by people… as an aid to the uh, business of eating food...”
“And how do you know this?”
“I just do. Well, based on experience I guess.”
“All right,” said Roaoo, nodding. “So, you have knowledge of a thing’s form, its function and a name given to it by its users. You’re familiar with this thing through personal experience. It’s reasonable to assume that without the benefit of said experience, you would lack knowledge of the thing. Or at least you might to some degree. And so if you had little or no knowledge of it, were you to stumble across it for the first time, you could only guess at its intended use. Yes? And it’s also not unreasonable to assume that in trying to puzzle out its function, you might try to dig soil from the ground, for example. Or maybe use it to clean out the filth collecting in your ears.”
“All right,” said Bene. “Sure, I suppose that all sounds fairly reasonable.”
“And you might never find out what its intended function is.”
“True. I might not.”
“Given that, does its maker’s intent matter to you at all?”
Bene shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends.”
“It depends?” asked Roaoo. “On what does it depend?”
Khela raised a hand before Bene could answer. “What if I’m perfectly happy using my spoon as an ear cleaner and I don’t care what its maker intended?”
“Do you have the right to do that?” asked Roaoo.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Or what if I use it to dig soil for a while,” said Bene, “and then even after I find out its maker intended it for eating, I decide I don’t want to use it for that? What if I’m happy keeping it as a soil scooper?”
Roaoo nodded. “But if you’d never met its maker, how would you know what it was really for?”
“Well, I guess–”
“But for argument’s sake, let’s say you do know.” Roaoo brandished the spoon again. “It’s intended for eating. In that case, is it your right to continue scooping soil with it, knowing it was not intended for such a thing? Or are you betraying the maker? Are you betraying the spoon?”
“The maker, maybe.” Bene cocked his head to the side. “Can you even betray a spoon?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
“Magister?” asked Khela. “Is this your way of suggesting that our object could have more than one use?”
“Maybe,” said Roaoo. “It’s a possibility, but at this point we have no means of verifying it. I’m merely restating the obvious, which is that until recently we didn’t know what it could do. Or indeed, what any of the Trench objects could do. We know now what this particular object can do, but we still have no idea how it works, nor do we know if it’s being used as it was intended to be used.”
“Ah,” said Bene. “Now I see the purpose of this exercise. Well, what if she’s using the object exactly as it was intended to be used? To kill?”
“And if not?”
“Do you think it makes a difference?”
“It’s hard to say,” said Roaoo with a shrug. “As far as we’re concerned, perhaps not. But if it is used in the future to different effect, well…”
Bene nodded. “Like an even worse effect, maybe? Now that’s a grim thought.”
“Do you think it’s likely?” asked Khela.
“I don’t know,” said Roaoo. “Now let’s go back a few months, shall we? Before we left Kanosh, both of you had the opportunity to handle a number of Trench objects, did you not?”
“Yes,” said Bene and Khela together.
“Did either of you feel anything when you held one for the first time?”
“No,” said Bene.
“Not really,” said Khela.
“Not really?” asked Roaoo, looking at Khela. “Does that mean you felt something?”
“No,” said Khela. “I mean, I remember being very curious about the objects. As we all were. And the first time I held one in my hand I felt scared, I guess. But I can’t say for sure that it–the object itself, I mean–actually caused me to feel that way. Not directly, anyway. It was probably just me spooking myself. I was a bit overawed and, you know, maybe kind of anticipating... I dunno… the worst? Does that make any sense?”
“Mm,” said Roaoo. “Yes, it does. Many people do respond in such a way. And when you were trying to interact with it, what did you do exactly? Did your instincts tell you to do anything?”
“My instincts? Not really, no. I don’t think so.”
Bene considered the question before chiming in. “Same here. I can’t say my instincts were of much help, to be honest. I just did what the tutors said to do. I tried imagining the objects as extensions of myself, or whatever. But that didn’t work, so I just kind of, I dunno… aimed them at things and imagined flames coming out. And I imagined they could make me fly or become invisible. You know, that sort of stuff.”
Roaoo nodded. “A common approach taken by first-timers, young men in particular. Anything else?”
“No. I dunno. I can’t really remember. All I know is that whatever I did, it didn’t work. They were just... things to me. Just things. Inanimate. Kinda seemed like paperweights, really.”
Roaoo turned to Khela. “What about you? Is that how they seemed to you as well?”
“Yeah,” said Khela. “I guess. I tried to relax and sort of… connect with them using my mind. You know, project thoughts at them and things like that? Positive, calming thoughts at first, but then negative thoughts when nothing happened. I even tried talking to them. But nothing worked. Like Bene said, it was like they were just things. Cold, lifeless lumps.”
Roaoo nodded. “And after the group sessions, did either of you try the approaches suggested by other students?”
“Of course,” said Bene.
“Yes,” said Khela. “And we documented it all like we were supposed to.”
“I know, I know,” said Roaoo. “But no matter how many times I read the reports, I find myself at square one and asking myself the same question: what did she do? How did she manage to make that one object work?”
“We don’t know,” said Bene.
“You both knew her though, didn’t you?” asked Roaoo. “After all, you were her friends, weren’t you?”
“Well, I suppose we had a... history,” said Bene, “of sorts.”
Khela sniffed. “That would be one way to describe what you had with her.”
Bene’s face reddened. “Uh…”
“Go on,” said the magister. “Spit it out, whatever it is.”
“All right,” said Bene, shifting in his seat. “Well this is more than embarrassing, but in the interest of full disclosure I’m just going to come right out and say it, all right? Yes, I was sleeping with our target. For a little while.”
Roaoo’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”
Bene nodded, then pointed to Khela. “And with her, too. I was only supposed to be sleeping with the one, though. With Khela, I mean. She kind of, uh, caught me with... er, you know...”
Khela rolled her eyes.
“What was she like?”
Bene giggled. “I’m assuming you mean personality wise, and not...?” His smile faded when he saw that his attempt at humour had fallen flat. “Well, magister, she was a bit... I dunno. Black?”
“Black? Define black.”
“Well, you know… down, depressed? She seemed really depressed. A lot. Most of the time, actually. But sometimes she could be the opposite. When she opened up, I mean.”
Khela snorted.
Bene groaned. “That wasn’t what I meant, Khela. At all.”
“Why was she depressed?” asked Roaoo.
Bene thought about it. “I don’t know. It was almost like she had this dark cloud, or something, constantly looming over her. At first I thought it was because she didn’t have any friends, but when I asked her about it one time she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.”
“Maybe,” said Khela, “she was just sensitive about not having friends and didn’t want to talk about it?”
“No,” said Bene. “No, I don’t think so. I got to know her pretty well, I think. And I really don’t think she’d ever had many people in her life. She never really talked about others. Not once. I never heard her say anyone’s name. Even me, now that I think about it. Heh, how about that–I just realised she never even called me by my name! It was almost as if other people didn’t exist unless she needed them. I remember a few times when we were talking how she’d suddenly turn away from me. She used to go... blank. Like, stopped mid-sentence and just kinda went all catatonic. It was weird.”
“Yeah,” said Khela. “Actually, I do remember how she never once smiled or said hello to anyone. As Bene said, she would just go about her business as if the rest of us weren’t even there. I always thought she was self-absorbed and rude.”
“Oh, she was self-absorbed,” said Bene. “Definitely. But at the same time, I’m not sure it ever really occurred to her that she should smile or say hello to other people. I mean, I don’t think she meant to be rude. I don’t think it was intentional at all. I just don’t think she understood etiquette, or if she did, then maybe she didn’t really see the need for it.”
“In other words,” said Khela, “rude.”
Bene shook his head. “No. Not necessarily. She was different. She wasn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. At first I thought she was just eccentric, but as time went by I realised there was more to it than that. She was truly brilliant in some ways. Like when it came to classwork, for example. She showed amazing insight on all kinds of topics. She was really good at lecturing, too.” He paused, thinking. “But the thing is, she had no idea how to hold a conversation. Socially, she was awful. Thoroughly inept. Being around her was like being around a toddler. If she didn’t get her way, she used to throw these huge temper tantrums. It was embarrassing, and she had absolutely no qualms about doing it in public. Oh man, and I remember this one time in town when I told her off about something. I didn’t think I was being all that harsh, either. But she hung her head, bit her lip and started bawling like a baby.”
“That’s interesting,” said Roaoo.
“It’s like she was some kind of idiot savant, honestly.”
“An idiot savant?” The magister smiled. “That’s food for thought. So, did you two ever discuss the Trench objects?”
“Not really. I tried to, but whenever I brought them up, she would either shut down or change the subject. I should have seen it for the red flag it was, but I was kinda distracted by other things.”
“I’ll bet you were,” said Khela.
“Shut up,” said Bene. He turned back to the magister. “One thing I did notice, though, was how she had every paper ever written about the Trench. And I remember she was especially interested in the more, um, colourful theories about objects. You know, the ones that suggest how certain people can interact with them on an extrasensory level?”
“Yeah, I can’t take those theories seriously at all,” said Khela.
“Why not?” asked Roaoo.
Khela shrugged. “I dunno. It just seems too weird.”
“In her latest paper,” said Bene, “Jeromi postulates that some ancient race made the objects. A race that possessed the requisite mental faculties for successful–”
“Postulates?” said Khela. “More like speculates. She doesn’t have a lick of evidence.”
Bene nodded. “That’s true enough, at least for now. She also believes these ancients are long dead. The part I find interesting is that our target is definitely not ancient. Or at least I don’t see how she could be. And yet she also has the necessary mental faculties to interact with the objects, doesn’t she?”
“With one object, Bene. If it even works that way, which I have a hard time believing it does.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if it does? And what if she’s a descendant of those ancients? Like a throwback or something? It certainly would explain what happened, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, but–”
“No, let me finish, Khel. It would explain what happened, wouldn’t it? I mean, we all got to study the one she stole, right? Before she ran off with it? We all played with it, touched it, directed thoughts at it, sang to it, or whatever. We did everything we could think of to make it do something, but nothing worked. The thing was just a rock for us, a paperweight. But when it was her turn, she picked it up and actually used it.”
Khela held up a finger. “Used it to kill off half the faculty.”
“Oh, and you reckon I’d somehow forgotten about that part, did you?”
“What do you think,” said Roaoo, trying to forestall an argument, “about the possibility that she didn’t do it of her own volition?”
“Huh,” said Bene. “But she must have.”
“How can you know that?”
“Well she’s on the run from us, isn’t she?”
“She is, of course.” Roaoo looked at him. “And?”
“Then I don’t get it.”
“Think about it,” said the magister, tapping the side of his own head. “Let’s accept for the moment that Jeromi is correct in saying that human-object interaction does indeed take place on an extrasensory level. Why are we operating on the assumption that it’s the human who’s in control? Why not the other way around?”
“You’re suggesting the object... took possession of her?” asked Khela.
“That is one possible explanation for her behaviour.”
“That would be like the spoon scooping up food by itself,” said Bene.
“Not quite,” said Roaoo.
“But it’s not all that far off, either.”
“Mm. I’m not so sure, actually.”
“Who would create such a thing?” asked Khela.
“That’s just it,” said Bene. “We don’t know anything about its maker’s intention, do we? Up until now we’ve assumed she’s a maniac who knows exactly what she’s doing. But she could be a victim of her object, compelled by it to kill. Or this could be an anomaly, or… or any number of things, really. We could be wrong about everything.”
“One thing I know for sure, though,” said Khela, “is that we should never have dug the wretched thing out of the ground.”
“Do you actually believe that?” asked Roaoo.
“Yes. I really do.”
The magister rubbed his chin. “Interesting. And you, Munning? What are your thoughts on the subject?”
“I disagree,” said Bene. “Despite what happened, I think the objects should still be studied. But we should probably have more safeguards.”
“Such as?”
Bene paused. “I have no idea.”
“If we’d never dug the thing up, none of this would have happened,” said Khela. “How’s that for a safeguard?”
Roaoo peered at her. “I’m not sure whether your sense of certainty should be applauded or condemned,” he said. “So then, answer me this, Rusen. Imagine that the position of Warden Master has just been bestowed upon you–would you call a halt to the excavation of the Trench?”
Khela didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. I would. I’d not only call a halt, I’d seal the place as well. Permanently. I’d destroy our object, once recovered. I’d destroy it and every other one. Too many people have died because of the Trench. It’s too dangerous to exist.”
“And said with such conviction!” said Roaoo, chuckling. “What about you, Warden Master Munning? Are you of a similar mind?”
“No,” said Bene. “I’m not.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, no. I think finding the object and returning it to Gerich has to take priority, of course it does. But I wouldn’t destroy it. And other than that, we should keep excavating the Trench and studying what we find. The show must go on.”
“The show must go on?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Make sure,” said Roaoo, frowning, “not to utter that particular line in your acceptance speech when you take office.”
“I, uh, won’t?” said Bene with a shrug. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning on running for the office of Warden Master or anything, anyway.”
Roaoo sighed. “It’s just as well. Because that, I can assure you, is not at all how it works. Warden Masters are appointed, not elected.”
Khela giggled, and Bene turned on her. “Quit laughing. You as Warden Master? I don’t think so!” He threw his hands up in a gesture of mock helplessness. “Oh, dear! Oh no!” he said in a falsetto voice. “The Trench is too dangerous to exist! It needs to go! Oooh, quick everyone, help me seal it up! Then we can all hold hands and make kissy faces and bake cupcakes and shit!”
“What the crap, Bene?” said Khela, screwing up her face. “I don’t talk like that! I’ve never talked like that.”
Roaoo held up a hand. “Calm yourselves, please.”
A long moment of silence followed in which Khela and Bene pulled faces at each other.
“I worry about what’ll happen if we don’t catch her,” said Khela.
Roaoo gave her a sympathetic look and shook his head. “We’ll catch her. Sooner or later, one way or another.”
“Do you think Mumolo’s gone?”
“Tonneson’s men say the town was hit particularly hard, so... yes.”
“Oh no…”
“The thing that gets me,” said Bene, “is how she’s been able to survive this long. I mean, we’re talking about a girl who basically spent every waking hour with her nose buried in a book. She wasn’t exactly fighting fit. How is it possible she’s survived in the wilderness this long, alone, with an entire company of professional chasers breathing down her neck?”
“Maybe the object has something to do with it?” said Khela. “Maybe it’s helping her stay two steps ahead of us, somehow. I mean, anything is possible with this thing, right?”
Bene grinned. “Well, that was certainly a rapid change of opinion, eh? Up until now, you’ve pretty much believed she was the one in control.”
“I... know. I just wish it didn’t exist. I wish there was no such thing as the Trench. It does my head in sometimes.”
Roaoo shrugged. “Wish as you might, it will not change facts. It exists.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Khela, “until death us do part.”
Bene let out a sigh. “So dramatic.”
Roaoo got to his feet. “Enough. It’s getting late and it’s high time I went to bed. Feel free to continue this discussion together, if you wish. There’s a reason I chose the two of you for this expedition.” He looked around. “But maybe tidy this tent up a bit before you leave, will you? It’s gotten awfully cluttered.”
With the magister gone, Bene turned to Khela and sniffed. “Do you think he meant the reason we were chosen for this expedition was because of our exceptional tidying abilities?”
Khela ignored him.
“Come to think of it,” he continued, “we don’t have to do anything ourselves. We could just get a couple of actual cleaners in.” Khela said nothing, and when it became clear she wasn’t going to reply, he folded his arms and asked, “How much longer are we going to keep doing this?”
“Keep doing what?” said Khela, getting to her feet. She stuffed a blanket into a wooden chest and shut the lid.
“You could at least look at me.”
Khela gave him a sour look. “How’s this?”
“Um, better?” Bene stood up to face her. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about a few things if that’s all right.”
“Maybe some other time, Bene.”
“It’s work stuff, all right? Just work, nothing personal. No personal stuff.”
“Fine, then. But make it quick.”
“Really? You’ll talk to me?”
“Yes. Seriously, hurry up though. I’m tired.”
“All right,” said Bene, looking to make sure that Roaoo had really gone. “Now, you’re going to have to promise me that you won’t bring up what I’m about to say in front of the magister.”
“Huh?”
“Just promise me.”
“Fine, but–”
“You’ll never bring this up in front of the magister, all right? Now, promise me.”
Khela sighed and folded her arms. “I promise,” she said in a weary voice, “not to bring it up, whatever it is, in front of the magister.”
“Good. Thank you. Now, do remember when we were still back in Gerich, before all this business happened?”
“Uh huh.”
“So, tell me, what happened the last time you were sick and couldn’t go to the library or the study hall or wherever?”
“What?”
“Back at uni, all right? The last time you got sick and couldn’t go to class, what did you do?”
Khela shrugged. “I dunno. Reported sick, I guess.”
“And what would you have done if you were so sick you couldn’t report? What then?”
“I don’t know. Asked someone to report for me? Or wait for an attendant to come find me, maybe?”
“Right. Now, think back to when all this shit started.”
“All right, but–”
Bene waved a hand at her. “She was absent for three days before anyone even noticed.”
“All right? And?”
“Three days, Khela! She was gone for three. Whole. Days. Three days in which she didn’t go to classes or show up for tutes. Three days of not signing in or out of the testing rooms. She wasn’t in the library or in her room. She didn’t report sick. She was gone, and the object with her. For three days! Three days! No one did anything about it for three entire fucking days.”
Khela knitted her brows. “That can’t be right.”
“It is, though. That’s what happened.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Bene’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And you know what? I think they let her get away on purpose.”
“They?”
“The attendants... the staff... maybe even Roaoo himself...”
Khela rolled her eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Bene. That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bene shook his head. “Wait, wait! Just hear me out, will you? There’s a whole lot of stuff going on here that just doesn’t make any sense. I’m beginning to think this whole expedition is a sham.”
“Oh, shit,” said Khela, rolling her eyes again. “Here we go. This is gonna be good.”
“What? What do you mean by that?”
“You think everything’s a sham.”
“What? I do not.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Like fuck you don’t.”
“Go on then, and give me an example.”
“An example?”
“Yep. Bet you can’t.”
“Hah!” said Khela, clapping her hands together