The Cypher (10 page)

Connections and Signs

The cryptologists of Guardians Inc. had questioned Thomas to no avail. He’d been asked to describe what he saw at the faun construction and then paint it. A psychotherapist had tried to get him to write a song about the image, and a cryptanalyst asked him to express in numbers what he saw.

Everything failed. The image was clear in his mind, a sea of gold, rippling under him until sunrise turned it incandescent. He could recall every detail, every wave and ripple and even the feeling of burning as the sunlight reflected off from it. It was just a flash of memory seared on his mind. But, he just couldn’t express it. Not with words or by drawing it.

It was the most vexing feeling, just like when he was little during a hot summer day and his mom told him he couldn’t go swimming in the pool right away because he just had lunch.

Doctor Franco drew the line when a psychologist suggested hypnotherapy to retrieve the information.

“It may well be only accessible to you,” the Doctor told Thomas after a final round of questions. “Better leave it there where it’s safe.” He pointed to his head with the cane. “Records show that the previous Cyphers had the same problem up until they had enough clues to find the Book.”

“How many Cyphers exist?” Thomas asked. He had just started reading about the History of Guardians Inc., but it was a daunting process, like trying to read and remember an encyclopedia.

“There have been many Cyphers –Da Vinci was a Cypher, and so was Marco Polo, Saladin, and Helen of Troy. There’s probably some people out there right now who don’t know that they’re Cyphers. It’s an ability that maybe one in a hundred million humans possess,” the Doctor said. “But to unlock it, develop it, and to know how to use it, and especially to find the Book of Concord, has only happened twelve times. Twelve Guardians of Twilight – if you succeed in finding the book you’ll be the thirteenth. Let me show you something.”

They entered through the corridor of the mansion and stood under the stained-glass window. The moonlight shone, brightly illuminating the Egyptian eye logo in a faint silvery light.

“It’s weird,” Thomas said. “I can recall ithe sign exactly as I saw it for the first time. I just can’t talk about it. Can’t you read my mind?”

The Doctor concentrated but stopped after a couple of seconds. “It’s a blank, but I’m not surprised. I must confess, I tried to read your mind when you were studying the stained-glass window a couple of days ago, but I got the same blank.”

“You mean this one?” Thomas looked up. The first time he saw the stained-glass window, the Guardians Inc. eye had been surrounded by signs and hieroglyphics, but ever since unlocking his Cypher power, he could read the lines of text as easily as anything else.

“Yes, can you tell me what they mean?”

“Sure, the first line is…” Thomas’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t repeat what was written even though he had memorized it. Just like with the clue to the Book of Concord.

“Don’t worry Thomas,” the Doctor smiled. “They were written just for you by other Guardians of Twilight.”

“But they are written in languages that have been deciphered already.”

“Sure, but when we translate the lines, they’re just gibberish to us. Only a Cypher finds meaning in them, and since the guardians that wrote them were in contact with the Oracle, you can’t tell us what they mean. Although, there are two things clear to me from your mission and our little meeting with King Seryaan…”

The Doctor paused in front of the stairs. “You have the first sign, so you’re the one who needs to find the others, and you’re going to need training.” The Doctor tapped twice on the steps with his cane. “Have a good night.”

Thomas walked slowly toward his room feeling defeated. Being able to read and understand anything written didn’t strike him as a super power. It was a good ability, though. He could see how it might have helped Marco Polo on his travels to China, or how much would the CIA or FBI love to have someone like him on payroll, decrypting and analyzing spy stuff.

But, to save the world? It seemed like a stretch.

Especially for an almost sixteen-year-old.

***

A few hours later, Tony quickly entered Thomas’s suite carrying two large satchel bags and tried to convince Thomas to share the suite. Thomas stood dumbstruck while Tony surveyed the bathroom and the closets and blurted out ideas about how to best divide the suite, but after a brief discussion with Bolswaithe, Tony was sent to the other side of the mansion. Thomas was in a VIP suite, and his status didn’t extend to his escorts. Tony tried to resist, but he gave in just in time to stop Bolswaithe from calling the Doctor.

Tony was given a room on the lower floor, but he left a message with Bolswaithe that they should have breakfast at the gates of the mansion to talk with Henri and the other Grotesques.

Bolswaithe, of course, was always outside of Thomas’s door, and Henri guarded the mansion’s gate.

The next morning, Tony waited for Thomas on the lawn, with his arms crossed over his chest. “You have to talk with the Doc about me having a room closer to you,” Tony said as Thomas approached. “I mean, it’s like being on the Titanic. We are on the same boat, and if it sinks, it sinks with all of us, but when it’s sailing full speed and no iceberg on the horizon, you’re on first class while we…” Tony motioned to Bolswaithe, “we are in the galleys. Aren’t we?”

“Not really, sir,” Bolswaithe said evenly. “I’m quite comfortable in my room.”

Tony flashed him a look of dread. “Bolswaithe! I thought we had an understanding when we discussed this.”

Bolswaithe continued setting a red plaid sheet and picnic basket on the lawn. “As I recall, you discussed it, while I just heard your arguments.”

“You agreed with me,” Tony snapped.

“I nodded, but it wasn’t in agreement. Mostly to do something while you spoke.” Bolswaithe finished placing plates and glasses on the sheet. “Please let me know if you need anything else, sir.” He turned around and headed toward the mansion.

Tony waited until Bolswaithe was far enough away before muttering something in Italian. Probably a curse.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Thomas said before Tony could ask him again.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Thomas,” he corrected. He’d done the same with Bolswaithe. He just wanted to keep “Tom” as something he shared with his family.

Tony flashed him a smile. “Thomas, then. I’m sorry but I like keeping it less formal.”

“Like all Italians,” Jean-Luc interrupted from his column and Tony looked back at him.

“Well-
Pardonne moi
, I didn’t know you French boys resented that. Do you want me to be more formal with you too, monsieur?”

Jean-Luc let out a chuckle. The pudgy Grotesque was more talkative than Henri, who mostly waited for the right moment to talk, always short sentences, and always to the point.

“So, you’re French?” Thomas asked the Grotesque while unwrapping a California burrito Tony had bought from a little ma and pa restaurant in San Diego.

“Yes we are,” Jean-Luc said, standing proudly over his column. “We were created by order of his majesty King Louis XIV to guard Versailles.”

“But his grandson was too scared of us,” Henri said from the other pillar. “Sissy boy.”

“It wasn’t the King,” Jean Luc replied. “It was Marie Antoinette; she put us in storage and added prettier statues. She just lost touch with reality when she became Queen.”

“Then she lost her head,” Henri grimly pointed out. “Had we been where we were supposed to instead of gathering dust in a basement. Well…
C’est la vie.
”

“So you were created?” Thomas asked. He thought that the Grotesques were born as magical beings.

“Yeah,” Jean Luc said. “Our dad was Philibert le Roy, architect, alchemist, and magus. One of the few true human magi. He imbued life to us in December 21
^st,
1625 during winter solstice.”

“That’s why the fauns didn’t want me in their city,” Henri said. “They don’t consider us to be part of their ‘magical’ little club. They think we sap their resources.”

Thomas let the conversation die out and changed the subject as fast as he could. Now he understood why Henri had been so angry at the mouth of the faun’s tunnel.

Tony dominated the conversation with stories from Central Park and Manhattan for the rest of the morning. Some stories included Henri; some were about magical creatures wreaking havoc until his team had saved the day.

Thomas had to admit that he liked the New Yorker.

***

Without any news about his grandfather’s whereabouts and any other
Book of Concord
clues that needed his direct attention, Thomas applied himself to learning everything there was to know about his new home.

He explored the mansion grounds, door by door. His new solid black tag and clearance allowed him almost unlimited access to any room in the mansion. Bolswaithe made sure to point out where Thomas should stay away, for the moment, at least.

The Crypto Zoo that Tony mentioned in Central Park was one of those doors Thomas couldn’t access. He had a black level clearance, but he was still at green level for all of Guardians Inc. procedures, history, and facilities. Before going into the Crypto Zoo, Bolswaithe assured him that he needed to finish at least two courses of Magical Biology and Zoology, and at least one course of Magical-non-Magical Synergy, which he promptly added to Mrs. Pianova’s study guide.

Mrs. Pianova had given Tony assignments and duties of his own after seeing that the New Yorker was just loitering about Thomas the whole day, except, of course, when it was time to get food.

As in the library, the inside of the mansion was much larger than the outside -— doors opened into halls with their own doors. Storage areas worthy of the busiest seaports gave way to hangars with cargo planes and airport runways. Thomas even found a pre-World War II zeppelin carefully stored in a hangar, the dangerous hydrogen that had destroyed the Hindenburg replaced with inert helium.

Thousands of people worked inside the rooms, but only a handful had access to the main mansion building.

Pervagus Mansion was connected to everywhere.

Always accompanied by Bolswaithe, Thomas could go from a skyscraper office in Hong Kong to a computer research facility in Silicon Valley, and then to a museum in South America just by walking a few feet through the main corridor. All of these companies were a part of the Guardians Inc. network, and some dealt with cutting edge technologies while others were centered on agriculture and energy generation, or even marketing and law.

When Thomas was inside the Guardians’ partner companies, Bolswaithe gave him a little silver Guardians Inc. logo pin to place on his shirt instead of the black tag. Of course, Bolswaithe reminded that he still needed to carry the black tag as identification in case security requested it. As Thomas roamed through the mansion doors and entered different buildings around the world, he noticed that even though the workers and security guards of those companies had never met him, they let him pass because of the pin.

The doors he used to go in and out from the mansion were nondescript on the side of the places he visited. Most could be dismissed as utility or janitor closets, a couple, especially the ones in farms and greenhouses, opened inside barns.

Bolswaithe assured him that as long as he had the transponder, the doors to the mansion would let him in. But, he had to make sure that only employees with orange tags or above were close by or the security protocols would not allow the door to open, or it would open to a little cabinet.

“It’s magic isn’t it?” Thomas asked Bolswaithe as they walked through the observation deck at the 124
^th
floor of the Burj Khalifa tower in Dubai. “The way we move from place to place?”

“No, but any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” Bolswaithe said.

“I’ve heard that before, who said it?” Thomas recognized the quote; it was one of his dad’s favorites. He used to tell gramps that quote every time he gave him a new gadget for Christmas. His dad told Thomas that gramps had resisted videocassettes, cell phones, cd’s, then dvd’s and even computers, until his dad sat down with gramps and taught him how to use them.
“They’re like magic for him,”
his dad told him last year when he got gramps a DVR.

In reality, Thomas and his dad knew that gramps just liked to feign disgust about the machines in order to have them spend time with him because he was really adept at using new gizmos.

He was even more adept at texting than Thomas.

“It’s a quote from Sir Arthur C. Clarke,” Bolswaithe paused at the window and stared at Thomas. Sure enough, Thomas recognized the name of one of Dad’s favorite sci-fi authors.

“If it isn’t magic, then what is it?” He asked.

Bolswaithe crossed his arms behind his back. “The mansion systems utilize a Quantum fractal singularity attached to specific nodes in the topology of the space-time continuum to operate.”

Thomas bit his lip. He could swear that the faintest outline of a smile was drawn on the robot butler’s face.

“The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to go beyond them into the impossible,” Bolswaithe said after a couple of seconds. “Sir Arthur C. Clarke again.”

Thomas sighed, a little exasperated. “You could’ve told me it was magic.”

“Why?” Bolswaithe turned again toward the window. “It wasn’t magic for him, Thomas. The equations are quite elegant.”

Thomas saw through the reflection on the glass that Bolswaithe was indeed smiling. Maybe Bolswaithe, like the robots in the stories his father loved to read, was becoming something more than just a machine.

“Where to now?” Bolswaithe asked. “We still have an hour and a half before your shift at the library begins.”

Thomas looked through the window – the city of Dubai stretched below him, and beyond the city, he could see desert to one side and the sea to the other.

“There’s too much grey and brown here,” he said suddenly feeling homesick for Ohio. “I’d like a little green and maybe water.”