The Whole World Is Broken

By Ben Darrow

When the Tenbor Dish Valley loses its protector, Tench must navigate the treacherous alternate reality of the Verch in order to restore his home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ben Darrow
• Release date: May 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458121301

Book preview

The Whole World Is Broken

Ben Darrow

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Ben Darrow

The first indications of trouble came to Tench as he sat upon a broken spar of the antenna tower. It was a place he visited when the whispers grew too strident and the need for stillness and solitude became imperative; an ideal sanctuary, just high enough to escape the hubbub of the city built into the tower’s base, but safely below the haunts of the Iron Goats, who might or might not welcome him. The blunted stub of the spar commanded a magnificent view of the Tenbor Dish, with its mosaic of farms laid out upon the gently sloping valley floor. At night, one could look up at the riot of stars crowding each other from horizon to horizon.

Tench somewhat preferred the night skies of his ancestral homeworld, which lay much further away from the galactic core, offering a less congested view of the heavens. But that sky could only be seen in the Verch, the last place he would go to seek tranquility.

On the day in question, Tench was gazing out over the Dish and thinking of the magnificent portents it must have received, long ago when the great ship was spaceborne. Some of those messages might linger in the deep spaces of the Verch, and he sometimes considered going in search of them, but it was a foolish idea, and no good reason for braving the Verch’s treacherous profundities.

When he grew tired of his musings, Tench called for a boat to meet him at the lake that surrounded the antenna.

Boat, he murmured into his mutterband.

The band whirred softly for a moment and emitted a piping reply:

Temporarily unable to comply. This response is characterized by regret.

Tench scowled at the peculiar phrase. It roused his memory, stirring up wisps of recollection from his training, or possibly from his childhood. He ignored them.

Bot.

All bots are currently engaged in Priority One tasksets.

The definition of Priority One had become vague, but it was still reserved for catastrophe, and Tench heard no sirens. He wondered if there was a problem with the communications grid.

Entity.

The band replied with a mocking raspberry. The Entity? You want the Entity? The Entity has better things to do than to talk with the likes of you!

Tench grimaced in disgust and tore the mutterband from his wrist. The problem was obviously in the band itself; the Tenbor Entity would never instruct a device to respond in such a rude manner, particularly not to Tench. He would have the thing repaired or replaced.

Tench stood and looked out over the lake. A small bot was hovering within earshot – a melon-sized sphere with spidery arms dangling beneath.

Bot! Tench cried, waving his arm. The bot bobbled listlessly for a moment, blinked a sensor at him, and then wafted over.

Yes-yes, ssssir?

Tench experienced a tang of fear. The bot’s speech indicated severe malfunction or distress, and he had not heard a bot use the word sir for more than fifteen years. Tench gave the bot a wide grin in an attempt at encouragement and spoke slowly.

Hello there. I’m going to need a boat. Do you think you could arrange one for me?

The bot rattled its arm-tips together nervously. A boat, a boat, a boat you say? it babbled. Indeed. The little barque of your soul. Your kingdom for a boat! A sacred vessel, built from the chrysalides of ancient queens. Oh sorry! the bot shrilled. "Sorrysorrysorry. This last reference drew from the culture of a species other than your own. SORRY!" The final apology, delivered as an air-splitting shriek, left Tench with a painful drone in his ears.

That’s perfectly all right, Tench reassured the deranged machine. Forget the boat. Let’s you and me go to my farm, where I have many diagnostic glyphs. They may be of some help to you. What do you say, bot? Yes?

Boat, boat, boat, boat, the bot hummed tunelessly, spinning in a slow circle. It jerked to a halt and whirled its primary sensor array towards Tench. Please state your identity.

My identity? Tench asked in surprise. Can’t you see me? Hear my voice?

The bot rotated on a diagonal axis. Yes, it said mournfully.

Then how can you not know me? Bot – what is wrong with you?

The bot turned upside down and clenched its arms convulsively. I am so sorry, it wailed. So very sorry. Please – please state your identity, just this once. Please?

Tench, he muttered, with a mounting sense of dread.

The bot righted itself instantly. Tench! it cried joyously. Splendid! Capital! You can help! Bring it back, Tench! Bring it back! The bot pushed itself against Tench like a playful kitten, buzzing all around his shoulders.

Stop that, cried Tench, struggling to keep his balance. Stop it!

The bot danced away into the air, singing Tench, Tench, Tench, Tench, Tench.

Tench began the climb down into the antenna city, cursing furiously in order to distract himself from the whispers, and their silken chants of despair.

* * *

Tench saw a thousand signs of disjunction as he made his way home.

Elevators within the antenna failed to respond to spoken commands, requiring the passengers to pry open dusty panels of buttons, labeled with names that had long since ceased to be relevant. Tench visited several levels before locating the docks, which had apparently been devoted to Heavy Particle Filtration in happier times. He got a ride across the lake from a grain barge which had been pressed into service as a ferry.

Will you be able to set things right, do you think? the captain asked