Marigold

By William G. Howard and Larry I. Deibert

In the year 2270, the Lyceum Mechaniska laboratory has produced androids—part robot, part human—called “InOrganics.” Marigold is one such creation, built with the purpose of assisting individuals who have experienced emotional or physical trauma. However, Marigold has been acting strangely, even aggressively.

When Marigold is accused of murder, she is in danger of being terminated. Despite what scientists believe, she is innocent of her crimes and is now on a mission to stop a virus from being released and adhere to the last words of a dying man by finding “the Pink Bunny.”

Detective Chabox Brignadoc has long been suspicious of Lyceum and the company’s behind-the-scenes behavior. Brignadoc must determine if Marigold is actually guilty of murder or if she’s the victim of conspiracy. In an adventure that spans two continents, both Marigold and DCI Brignadoc are in a race against time to expose a deadly secret that could change the face of humanity forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665702614

William G. Howard

William Howard grew up in historic Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where he often walked in the footsteps of the Founding Fathers. Much like the Founders, William has always had a fascination and penchant for the written word. William began writing short stories when he was in high school, often contributing submissions to the school newspaper and literary magazine. Despite his love of writing, Mr. Howard ended up teaching for the School District of Philadelphia for twenty years before retiring in 2012 to devoting more time to writing. William Howard has gone on to write three sci-fi novels and is beginning work on a fourth novel, which will be a sequel to the Sword of Aeschylean, as well as a new original novel outside the Minerva-verse. He often participates in meetings with fellow writers in a number of writer groups. When William is not writing, he enjoys reading, traveling and spending time with his wife, Bonnie.

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Copyright © 2021 William G. Howard.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

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without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

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of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0260-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0261-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021902135

Archway Publishing rev. date: 02/23/2021

CONTENTS

Foreword

Acknowledgements

1   Marigold: Experimentation

2   Dr. Giocatore’s Red-Stained Ledger

3   Marigold: Recreational Pursuits

4   A Brief Encounter

5   The Last Testament of Luka Duratek

6   Adventures in the Seventh Egyptian Kingdom

7   An Unplanned Departure

8   Opulence and Detainment Upon the Nile

9   Interrogation

10   Marigold: Denial of Harm

11   The Mechanic from Jahfarka

12   Marigold: Dependence

13   When the Wolves are at the Door

14   The Betrayal of an InOrganic

15   The Children’s Hospital

16   The House of Fadarati

17   The Children of the Merkabah

18   The Gentlemen of Stygga Vargen

19   Marigold: Burned in my Memory

20   Marigold: Award to the Highest Bidder

21   The Virus of the Vine

22   Devastation on the Nile

23   In the Hands of the Merkabah

24   An Unwelcome Reunion

25   A Jackal Amongst the Wolves

26   A Blackbird is Hard to Kill

27   The Traitor of House Fadarati

28   Marigold: Dependence, Part II

29   Wolves Running Wild

30   An Atomic Howitzer’s Worth of Trouble

31   A Contamination Reduction Zone

32   Marigold: Hospitalization

33   The Seedlings of Destruction

34   The Flight of the Mortuary Barge

35   Marigold: Addiction

36   The Glorious Dawn

37   Ministry of Resolutions

For my amazing mother, Ann

From so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful

and most wonderful have been and are being evolved.

CHARLES DARWIN – ORIGIN OF SPECIES

And as things fell apart, nobody paid much

attention. You got it, you got it.

DAVID BYRNE – NOTHING BUT FLOWERS.

FOREWORD

I am Larry L. Deibert, a Vietnam veteran and a retired letter carrier. After writing my first two books at the age of fifty-two, I have written and self-published fourteen more in various genres. I am honored that William Gold, writing as William Howard, asked me to write the foreword to his new book, Marigold. Before writing this, he sent three chapters for me to read, to get a feel for the book. Honestly, I have never been a fan of futuristic science fiction, but I enjoyed the ten-thousand-word sample I read and look forward to his future novels.

I met William several years ago when we were both members of a book signing group of about thirty authors. Several times during that two-year stint, he and I had the opportunity to do signings at the same time, and last year he invited me to participate in a book festival, along with another writer friend. I enjoyed his company and his interesting sense of humor.

William Howard is a native of Philadelphia, Pa., where he often walked in the footsteps of the founding fathers. He completed an internship at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, writing journal articles about Philly’s historic landmarks. In high school he turned to his first love of writing science fiction, some of which were published in the Central High School literary journal, The Mirror. After teaching in the Philadelphia School District for twenty years, William retired in 2012. Three years later, he began working on his first novel, The Eye of Hermes. He enjoys spending time with his wife, Bonnie. He has been a member of the Neshaminy Writer’s Group and The South Jersey Writer’s Group since 2017 . Along with myself and thirty other authors, Mr. William Howard has also been a member of the Eclectic Authors of Pa and NJ since 2018.

William’s first book is a futuristic tale about two races of intelligent insects. In this original novel, the bee-like Polistine and the Beetleguise have been warring for five hundred years. The only place in the universe where they can co-exist is on the asteroid prison called Minerva. Minerva is the home to the worst alien criminals in the galaxy. The races face the knowledge that greater threats than their conflict is on the horizon. The storytelling is creative and engaging, with vivid descriptions of the characters.

His current novel, Marigold, is set in the year 2270, in the city of Jahfarka, Marigold is an InOrganic android, part robot and part human. She was created in a lab in the Lyceum Mechaniska, by Dr. Keksijä Lycos. InOrganics were created to assist individuals who have experienced physical and emotional trauma, but Lysete Zahren, the institute’s director, was alarmed about the InOrganic. His concern was that Marigold is malfunctioning, especially in regard to her interactions with human members of the Lyceum. He informed Dr. Lycos that there had been an incident when the supposedly docile android had assaulted a technician who was running a routine diagnostic on her. Dr. Lycos is still recovering from the death of his fiancée, Ravinia Nillison, three years ago. The director informs Lycos that Marigold must be terminated.

After reaching an impasse in his negotiation with the Director, Dr. Lycos went to see Marigold, still wondering how he would save his creation, he thought about her contributions, helping nearly one-hundred people through their physical and mental traumas. Stepping inside the room, he saw his associate, Dr. Tikon Giocatore, duck after Marigold threw a three-hundred-year-old bottle of alcohol at him. Seeing his colleague, Giocatore hurried from the room. Lycos looked over at Marigold. Her shoulder-length blond hair rested gently on her broad shoulders; her green eyes were the color of a calm, inviting sex, and she had moist, inviting, cool lips, that were as warm as a delicate breeze on a summer afternoon. Despite her muscular arms and legs, she wore the persona of petite femineity.

Marigold’s emotional programming began to process the variables and indicators in Lycos’ expression. Unaware that director Zahren had just made the decision to execute her at sunrise, Marigold mistakenly believed that Lycos’ expression was a sign of disapproval.

Dr. Lycos was concerned that Marigold had been tampered with, and after scanning her, found that a download had been recently added to her cerebral unit, removing her memory of the incident where she harmed the technician.

After a bad dream, Marigold awakened to see a holographic image of Dr. Lycos appear. The doctor decided he had to come to her and do a full diagnostic scan on her neutral centers. Marigold is soon aware that she has been scheduled for deactivation on the orders of the director, and Dr. Lycos suggests she hide somewhere. Marigold realizes, through five million computations, that the director’s office would be the best place to hide from those who wished to destroy her. And the race is on.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Before I wander too far afield, I need to thank some very important people in my life without whom this second novel — love how that just rolls off my tongue — would not have been possible. First, my wonderful wife, Bonnie, who has happily gone on this three-year journey with me. Second, my editor, Patti O’Brien, who went over every word, every sentence, until this novel was the best version of itself. Any errors left are my own. I also want to thank my Mom and my sister, Shari, who provided me with moral support, telling me that I would be able to finish this book, and cooking more sweet noodle pudding (kugel) and spaghetti and meatballs—my favorite foods on the planet—than I can count. I am deeply grateful.

I am also grateful for the numerous critiques and corrections provided by my cohorts in the Bucks County Writers Group. I believe that no great novel—not that I am placing this novel in that category, but in my biased opinion, I think it is a damn skippy good piece of fiction—can be created without the input of fellow writers. And I have been privileged over the last three and a half years to count myself among their ranks of published authors.

Now that I have acknowledged the supportive people in my life, there is the matter of addressing the ‘elephant’ in the room. And I must admit that there are two elephants in the room, one is Indian, and one is more of the Egyptian persuasion. What I am attempting to communicate to the reader is that I am well-aware that I am a semi-retired, middle-aged school teacher from Philadelphia; so why is my novel set in India and Egypt two-hundred-and-fifty years from now?"

My intention was never to attempt to write a speculative piece of historical fiction depicting the middle east some two and a half centuries from now. My intention was to write a story about an individual dealing with loss. How could someone get up every day and go about his business knowing that he will never see the love of his life again?

The novel also deals with the consequences of trying to control nature and humanity. For someone reading this book many centuries from now — there’s my hubris showing again—the early twenty-first century is a time when humanity is examining whether we can reverse the effects of our actions on the environment. We’re also trying to determine what we’re willing to sacrifice for a healthier, happier planet. Scientists are delving into the mysteries of DNA and genetics, using the information to cure diseases and extend life. However, we also use the information from our DNA to grow living beings and create healthier food that is not subject to the wear and tear of mother nature.

I also chose to examine Civil Rights in this book through the eyes of synthetic individuals and how they’re treated. I must concede that I was extremely fortunate that my parents did not feel the need to provide me with instruction on what to do when being stopped by an officer of the law, beyond ‘don’t make any smart remarks and do as you are told.’ I will never understand the fear that goes through a person of color’s mind when faced with a similar situation. Sadly, it is my wholehearted belief that this discrimination will not end with people of color but will eventually grow to include artificial beings. The examination of racism and discrimination is masterfully depicted by author Richard Wright in his novels The Invisible Man and Native Son. In addition, the topic of discrimination is excellently portrayed in Isaac Asimov’s short story I, Robot, in the incomparable novel Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, and in The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood.

It is my hope that you cheer for the heroes as well as marvel at the villains’ dastardly deeds. It is my promise that you are in for an incredible journey. Thank you for reading, William.

1

MARIGOLD:

EXPERIMENTATION

Within the sleek, stylized chambers of the Lyceum Mechaniska, Dr. Keksijä Lycos stood before the pinnacle symbol of status: the exclusive elevator of Lysete Zahren, the institute’s director.

The doctor activated the call button and immediately received a response from the director. Is that you, Lycos?

Yes, sir. I received your Ocular-Text to report immediately.

And here you are. That’s what I call being a dutiful child. I need to have a word with you regarding your most recent project. What are you calling your InOrganic?

Marigold, sir.

Yes. Come in.

In less than forty seconds, Dr. Lycos had entered and exited Zahren’s private elevator and was sitting before a copper-and-bronze, kidney-shaped desk, facing his boss. The director was forty-five with brown skin, green eyes, and black hair. He was wearing a red smock over a white shirt, black trousers, and a grim expression.

I have grave concerns about how your InOrganic, Marigold, is functioning — namely her interactions with other members of the Lyceum. As you are aware, there was yet another incident last night when your supposedly docile android assaulted a technician who was running a routine diagnostic on her.’

The purpose of Marigold is to assist individuals who have experienced physical and emotional trauma — Lycos began.

Yes, as you have told me on numerous occasions, Zahren cut in. I am also aware that you are recovering from a psychological blow after the untimely death of your fiancé, Ravinia Nillison, approximately two years ago. Therefore, I have overlooked the previous incidents, but the family of the individual who was injured the other night is intending to sue the Lyceum. This has backed me into a corner, and I have no other choice but to order the termination of your project and the InOrganic Marigold.

Lycos jumped up. She has helped dozens of people since her activation a year ago, people who are continuing to be counseled and healed by Marigold in therapeutic sessions. If you deactivate her now, it would be the same as denying cancer patients radiation treatment. It will make their lives unbearable.

My decision is final. Good night, Dr. Lycos.

Lycos sat back down. Sir, you need to give her more time. Her programming includes an algorithm that she cannot harm a human being by her actions or inactions. There must be a reason for these physically and emotionally violent outbursts. Is it possible that one of the patients told her to keep knowledge of a criminal nature secret? This might cause an ethical dilemma in her neural processor that would lead to these outbursts. Otherwise, there is no possible scenario that would cause Marigold to violate the first Asimovian law and harm a human being.

My decision is final. I will expect to receive a diagnostic report detailing Marigold’s decommissioning by tomorrow morning. Goodnight, once again, Dr. Lycos.

Lycos reached up and grabbed the director’s arm. Perhaps Marigold believed that she was danger! That might have been the reason she attacked the technician.

Zahren looked at the pleading doctor. How about this, Lycos? I have a video record of the incident, so let’s watch it together and see if Marigold’s life was threatened. And please release me.

Zahren picked up a tiny egg-shaped remote and waved it towards a large rectangular screen behind the bean desk. As the screen came to life, they could see Marigold — tall, blond, wearing a green blouse and metallic skirt, arguing with a brown-skinned laboratory technician, Hijath Rayhesh.

I just need you to lie down on your bio-bed so I can perform a routine diagnostic scan.

I will wait for Keksijä to perform the scan, said Marigold.

The director ordered me to do the scan because he needs the results tonight.

Rayhesh placed his hand on Marigold’s shoulder. The quicker you cooperate with me, Marigold, the quicker you will be able to go on your way. Besides, I promised Dr. Lycos that I would do this for him, and I don’t enjoy breaking my promises.

I will demonstrate to you what I enjoy breaking.

Zahren and Lycos both cringed at the sight of Rayhesh’s arm being twisted backwards like a pretzel. Lycos spoke quickly. Marigold, sometimes, has difficulty understanding how her actions might have a negative impact on organic lifeforms. Once I perfect her programming, she will be able to demonstrate greater self-restraint and the frequency of these serious incidents will decrease.

Dr. Lycos, my indulgence of this particular scientific endeavor has come to an end. If you are incapable of complying with my simple instructions, then I guarantee you will not be able to get a position as a test tube cleaner within the continent of the Hindu-Orient. Do I make myself clear?

Yes. Abundantly.

As Lycos got up and walked to the elevator, he quietly acknowledged to himself that Zahren had every right to discontinue any research at the Lyceum at any time. Yet, Zahren had to realize that Marigold was a particularly unique form of cybernetic life. She had helped more than a hundred individuals begin the healing process after experiencing emotional or physical trauma.

He was still deep in thought as he reached up to enter the access code to his laboratory, but, the door opened on its own, which was fortunate for Lycos because he was able to see and barely avoid a brown bottle of ale flying towards him, smashing against the far wall.

From the interior of the lab, Lycos heard his associate, Dr. Tikon Giocatore, scream. That is a three-hundred-year-old bottle of Gysanium Rhiskan you almost smashed into my head. You’ve sent a fine vintage of alcohol into oblivion; I hope you know.

Get out of here before I decide to obliterate you from existence, cried Marigold.

I was only trying to increase your understanding of emotional intimacy.

You are lucky that I did not snap off a body part or two, replied Marigold.

I was being a perfect gentleman for your information.

I am saying this for the last time, Dr. Giocatore. Get the hell away from me, now! Marigold was agitated, but when she realized that Dr. Lycos had entered the room, she instantly changed her demeanor. Dr. Lycos, I am very sorry for my outburst. I was merely trying to inform Dr. Giocatore that, though I was appreciative of his offer, I did not require his assistance.

That’s quite alright, Marigold, said Lycos as he turned to Giocatore, I think you need to leave, doctor

As Giocatore scurried out the door, Lycos looked over at Marigold. Her shoulder-length blond hair rested gently on her broad shoulders. Her green eyes were the color of a calm, inviting sea, and she had the most inviting, cool lips, which were as warm as a delicate breeze on a summer afternoon. Despite her muscular arms and legs, she wore the persona of petite femininity.

Marigold’s emotional programming began to process the variables and indicators in Lycos’s expression. Unaware that director Zahren had just made the decision to execute her at sunrise, Marigold mistakenly believed that Lycos’s expression was a sign of disapproval.

As far as I am aware from my programming, I did not ‘give off any signs’ to Dr. Giocatore that I was interested in a romantic liaison, said Marigold.

Somehow, I got the feeling that you weren’t interested,’ said Dr. Lycos You just inadvertently reminded me that I need to install a distinction between the humor and irony subroutine program at some point."

Dr. Keksijä Lycos, you seem troubled. Is there something bothering you?

Nothing that we can’t discuss later, said Lycos. He then realized that Marigold’s inquiry had just provided him with an opportunity. Actually, I know we briefly talked about the incident last night.

How is technician Hijath? I hope he is recovering from the lab accident.

What do you mean ‘lab accident’?

Didn’t technician Hijath get his arm caught in an industrial vice?

You don’t remember almost taking Hijath’s arm off last night?

Let me take a moment to scan my central processing unit, but I am almost 98 percent positive that I played no part in causing technician Hijath’s injury.

Marigold, I need you to delay that scan for a moment. Can I have you lie down on the diagnostic platform? I want to determine if you have had any recent downloads to your cerebral unit.

As you wish, Keksijä, but I can assure you that my memory is functioning perfectly.

Once Marigold was on the table, Dr. Lycos lowered a remote biometric scanner and placed it on her forehead. Computer, can you determine when this corrective algorithm program was installed?

It is registering as having been installed at twenty hundred hours last night.

And computer, does Marigold’s memory banks have any record of an encounter with technician Hijath Rayhesh?

There is no record of any encounter.

Marigold adjusted her position on the diagnostic platform while searching for the most opportune moment to ask Keksijä if everything was all right. Did you obtain the data that you were seeking from my cerebral unit?

Of course, Marigold. He casually ran his hand along Marigold’s cheek before helping her up from the platform. Thank you for helping me obtain the diagnostic information, even if it did prove inconclusive.

Keksijä, you know I am always willing to assist you in your scientific endeavors.

It was Lycos’s turn to close the distance between the two of them as he moved behind Marigold and gently stroked her back. My precious pearl, I forget sometimes how much caring and compassion resides in your loving heart.

This is a point of confusion for me, Keksijä. You have provided me with a comprehensive inventory of human anatomy within my neural processor, including the functionary purpose of each organ, nerve and synapse. I find no connection between the heart and regulation of emotional states, Marigold stated.

Cross reference your database on world mythos with the anatomical inventory.

Marigold’s mannerisms took on a more artificial appearance as the android compiled all the necessary information about the connection between the heart and the concept of love. Lycos saw Marigold’s head turn in a fashion like the movement of the hands of a clock as the bits of information were compiled in her synapses. Then, her eyes fixed on him. I found the examination most productive, especially the Mesopotamian and Egyptian references.

I am glad that I was able to assist you, smiled Lycos.

Tell me, Keksijä. Are seed pods still used by humans as an effective means of contraception? asked Marigold.

No. Most organic beings go through an extended process of courtship and commitment that eventually leads to an increased degree of intimacy. At that point in the relationship, in most instances, human reproduction can occur.

That is extremely fascinating, Keksijä. Tell me have you ever considered engaging in the expression of human intimacy with me?

Dr. Lycos opened his mouth to respond but found that for a brief second all he could do was cough up phlegm. He tried as quickly as possible to regain his composure in front of his creation, but it felt like an eternity before his pulse returned to a normal pace.

Have you ever considered expressing intimate feelings with me, Keksijä? Marigold repeated.

I think of you as my student whom I am educating in the ways of humanity. Part of that study is the processing and understanding of intimate feelings. Lycos answered.

Is it not possible for a stronger bond to develop between teacher and student?

There is a certain degree of implied trust in the relationship between teacher and student. A romantic relationship would seriously compromise that implied trust. In addition, our father-daughter dynamic and social taboos preclude a physical relationship.

I understand, Keksijä, but you still have not satisfactorily answered my other query. Is there something on your mind?

It is nothing that cannot wait to be discussed until the morning, preferably earlier than later. Goodnight, Marigold.

Goodnight, Keksijä. As usual, I found our time together to be extremely pleasurable. Before Keksijä realized what was happening, Marigold moved over to where he was sitting and placed her lips upon his own.

Although Marigold was a synthetic, he could feel the power and passion behind her intent of demonstrating her ability to fulfill her program. Still, he could not help but pull away.

I was merely expressing my fondness for you, Keksijä.

Lycos leaned in briefly and kissed Marigold gently on her cheek. You are truly a wonder of science, he whispered.

You are the one who is the scientific miracle worker, she answered.

He watched as Marigold leaned back on the diagnostic table as the panels emerged from hidden compartments in the side to create a cylindrical regenerative sleep chamber. She squirmed around a bit, then placed her hands at her sides and closed her eyes. Keksijä powered down some non-essential systems at his desk before gathering his jacket and soft-titanium information pouch and heading for the door of his laboratory, instructing the computer: Set illumination to sleep mode.

As you wish. Good night, Doctor Lycos.

After a quick elevator ride down to the garage level of the Lyceum Mechaniska, Lycos walked over to a blue pyramid-shaped capsule. He removed a sensor from the pocket of his red lab coat that he clicked twice while aiming it at the pyramid that then rose to just below his head. He sat down in the center seat, grabbed the oval-shaped steering wheel, exited the parking structure, and drove into the early morning sky over the city of Jahfarka. The number of capsules that were flying above the city on the inter-province skyway at this early hour always surprised him. Still, it only took one other car for there to be an accident, so Keksijä redirected his attention to activating the auto-drive of the capsule that would facilitate his twenty-five minute commute from Jahfarka to his home, which was located in the southern province of Kushatastan.

Despite prompting his brain to remain focused on the road, Lycos couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to that summer day six years ago. He had been riding to the Arabian sea for a relaxing beach day. He could still picture himself sitting on the plastic train bench, looking almost comical carrying a picnic basket, a scuba mask and fins, and a small umbrella. He would intermittently be jostled as the hovertrain hit a bit of turbulence. When the air pockets were especially bad, he was knocked to the floor. Each time, he would gaze over to see a beautiful woman staring back at him, making a valiant attempt to refrain from laughing.

The woman was Ravinia Nillison. When they had first been introduced by a mutual friend, Magachi Depsten, she already had her doctorate in sympathetic psychology and was participating in a research fellowship at the Zulqifar Institute of the Sciences near Karachi. When Magachi escorted him into the café, Lycos found himself instantly attracted to Ravinia, who was sitting alone at a table drinking a latte despite the intolerable heat.

Lycos immediately began to search for the right thing to say but was interrupted by Magachi. Ravinia Nillison, this is my colleague, Keksijä Lycos. I know you had mentioned that you were studying how positive emotional states promote holistic healing. Well, Keksijä is studying how the neural centers of the brain process emotions. So, discuss. A long discussion, lasting several hours, became the first of many conversations that led to a passionate, romantic relationship. But, like most things that make life worthwhile, Lycos’ relationship with Ravinia was far from smooth sailing.

His mind wandered back to another day at the Arabian Sea. He and Ravinia had walked together down the ramp to Rajpin beach. They had talked for hours about their plans, with each sharing what they hoped to achieve in their lives. He remembered telling Ravinia: I long to be able to wake every day and see your beautiful face as soon as I open my eyes. As he was remembering Ravinia’s beautiful face, reality came crashing back as he heard a siren going off from another Pyramid capsule whose lane he had drifted into during his reminiscence. The driver, whom Lycos had just nearly rear-ended, activated his video window monitor, Quit napping at the wheel, Ass-Jerk, and pay attention to the skyway!

Just a lovely sentiment on a Thursday morning.

He drove twenty more minutes on the inter-metropolis motorway before seeing a hovering board that denoted the exit for Kushatastan. He was happy that he would be home soon. He would be able to crawl into his bed where he would dream of what life could have been with Ravinia.

2

DR. GIOCATORE’S RED-

STAINED LEDGER

▷ THURSDAY 3:45 A.M.

INDIAN STANDARD TIME

The gentlemen’s social club, Stygga Vargen was in Pagwantown, ten short miles from the Lyceum Mechaniska. But for all their contradictions, it might as well have been located on the moon. Entrance to the exclusive establishment was gained by going into the alley of the now-defunct Greek restaurant, Gyro-bration, and pressing the buzzer located by the restaurant’s service door. After pressing the buzzer four times, the bouncer, Mr. Pup Dog, who had served two tours of duty in the Martian Marines, allowed prospective patrons access to the fine establishment. Pup Dog considered his guardianship of the door to Stygga Vargen a sacred duty. Therefore, when an undesirable character requested access to the club, he would deal with that individual appropriately. Such was the case tonight when Dr. Tikon Giocatore stood before him in the alleyway.

What’s shaking, Pup? asked Giocatore.

Beat it, Tikon. You aren’t welcome here anymore, said Pup Dog.

You know that really hurts my feelings.

Pup Dog reached his hand out like a jack-in-the box’s head on a spring and squeezed Giocatore’s neck, pressing him against the wall. I am trying to be nice, runt, ‘cause my PTSD counselor tells me that I need to work on my anger issues, he said through clenched teeth.

Giocatore, unable to speak, merely smiled and gave him the thumbs up.

Are you making fun of my anger issues? asked Pup Dog. As he dropped Giocatore to the ground, Pup Dog pulled his fist back in preparation to punch Giocatore in the face but was interrupted by a voice from behind.

Mr. Snaps would like to have a word with Mr. Giocatore, in private. The voice belonged to Mr. Slevester Faux, the Maître D’ of the Stygga Vargen club.

Pup Dog turned around, appearing to return to his post, but kicked Giocatore in the gut at the last minute, causing him to double over in pain. Sorry, Mate. My foot slipped, smirked Pup Dog.

You lucked out, my friend, said Slevester Faux. Pup Dog seems to be in a forgiving mood tonight. He reached down and helped Giocatore to his feet. Giocatore looked up to see a gentleman with triangular ears complemented by half-moon Asian eyes and slicked- back hair. He wore an old-fashioned three-piece suit with a gold watch fob stuck neatly in the breast pocket.

I am afraid that I must be the bearer of bad tidings. Mr. Snaps is not particularly pleased with your financial delinquency of late.

Well, it has been that kind of night. A short time ago, I had a bottle of three-hundred-year old Gysanium Rhiskan thrown at my head, said Giocatore.

You have the means to purchase a fine bottle of Rhiskan, Mr. Giocatore? Yet, you are unable to make your installment payments to Mr. Snaps. We must work on your financial prioritizing, my friend, said Slevester.

Who said anything about buying it? I swiped it from the Director of the Lyceum’s liquor cabinet when he was out of the office, offered Giocatore by way of explanation.

I must confess that I am involved in some less-than-reputable activities, but the last thing I want to do is go around boasting about my misdeeds, said Slevester. He produced a pistol from his jacket and poked it in Giocatore’s back. Now, if you would kindly proceed towards Mr. Snaps’ office. We do not want to keep him waiting.

Moving at a brisk pace at the behest of Slevester’s gun, Giocatore surveyed the club’s interior. Along the far wall, there were a series of doors that several young women entered and exited at regular intervals with gentlemen who were twice or three times their age. Towards the rear of the auditorium, there was a long, circular bar that resembled a noodle, with blue, padded bar stools spaced at regular intervals. There were eight rectangular glass cabinets directly behind the bar illuminated by incandescent light bulbs. The bartender, Mikelsan Lundeaglo, had each cabinet organized by the value of the liquor, with run-of-the-mill varieties at the bottom and the more expensive vintages closer to the top.

Seems like a busy night, quipped Giocatore.

That really is none of your concern. You just keep moving towards the back.

What Giocatore knew for sure was that if he walked into Snaps’ office, there was a very slim chance of him walking out alive. The only problem was that he knew the item that had come to retrieve was in Snaps’ office, a Universal Access card that granted the bearer access to all of Snaps’ accounts. The card was Giocatore’s key to escaping his dreary life as a cybernetic programmer.

Returning his thoughts to the present, Giocatore noticed a shiny object on the floor and inspiration for a diversion struck him. He leaned back towards Slevester Faux as he gestured toward the shiny trinket on the floor. That kind of looks like a five-hundred-dollar gold piece. Don’t you think you should get it?

As he had hoped, Slevester leaned down to examine the coin more closely, his back facing away from Giocatore, who leaned back against a nearby table and kicked Sylvester to the ground. As Giocatore turned to run back towards a secret corridor that would lead him to Snaps’ office, a muscular, brown-skinned individual in a pair of coveralls emerged from a hidden door leading to a back room. Upon seeing Mr. Faux laying on the ground in distress, the employee, Dalal Boristan, immediately reached into an inner pocket, and produced an electrified baton that he used to knock Giocatore to the ground. This piece of street trash bothering you, Faux? asked Boristan as he shoved the baton once again into Giocatore’s gut.

Boristan, I would keep my eye on that one, if I were you, said Slevester Faux as he lifted himself to his feet.

He is probably right about that, said Giocatore.

Before Boristan was able to inquire why, Giocatore reached over and bit Boristan in the ankle, causing him to grab his foot as he jumped up and down uttering a series of explicates. Giocatore took advantage of the opportunity to once again make his way to the secret corridor. This time emerging into the auditorium among the Pai Gow poker and Nipsokan Craps tables, Boristan unholstered his sizeable revolver and began firing indiscriminately into the crowd; hoping that one of the laser pulses would bring down his prey. Faux picked his own pistol up off the floor and began firing at Giocatore, too. However, Giocatore had already managed to disappear into a sea of Stygga Vargen patrons who were moving about in a chaotic fashion, due to the discharge of weapons’ fire.

We are never going to find that little runt in all this chaos.

Leave the crowd control to me, Boristan.

Faux nonchalantly removed an old-fashioned, double-barreled sub-machine gun from a hidden shelf beneath the rim of the bar, and calmly pointed the weapon in the air towards the stained-glass windows that lined the ceiling, including those that depicted epic moments from Hindi and Buddhist mythology such as Buddha’s ascension to the afterlife. With as little fanfare as possible, Faux pulled the trigger and released a barrage of gunfire towards the ceiling.

Now that I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen, Faux began as he stepped onto a nearby gambling table, my associates and I are trying to resolve a delicate situation. There is a gentleman who has not been completely honest in his dealings with our proprietor. Therefore, the proprietor, Mr. Snaps, would like to have a few words with him. So, I need everyone to quickly and quietly return to your seats. Anyone complying with this request will be entitled to a fifth of Heughan scotch, courtesy of Mr. Snaps. You may proceed.

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, Faux had the crowd move to either side of the club in less than a minute, Meanwhile, Giocatore was still running back towards another one of the secret corridors. In order to deter his progress, Boristan once again unleashed a volley of laser fire from his revolver, causing Giocatore to switch from a straight line to a zigzag running pattern. Trying desperately to avoid becoming bullet-ridden, like a piece of Swiss chess, Giocatore was oblivious to Pup Dog sneaking up behind him and landing a punch in the back of Giocatore’s head, which knocked him out cold.

Giocatore came around a few minutes later to find himself in Mouton Snaps’ private office. He looked up to see Snaps sitting at his desk, as he placed the remnants of his Cuban cigar in a green ash tray with a depiction of the Bangkok skyline on the bottom and crushed it down on the bottom until the flame was extinguished.

"I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming to meet with me, Dr. Giocatore. That would have sorely hurt my feelings if you had declined my generous invitation.

Tikon Giocatore looked down at his hands, placed in handcuffs bound together by an electro-magnet field. Mouton Snaps leaned over and glared at Giocatore from behind his mahogany desk as he sat upon a long, cedar bench that would have probably been found outside an elementary school principal’s office about four centuries ago. He imagined that a principal from that era would have worn the same look of disappointment that Mr. Snaps was wearing now.

Tikon, my son, over the course of the last six weeks I’ve come to suspect that you may have been avoiding me for one reason or another, Snaps stated just as he rose to his feet before producing a set of brass knuckles. He casually walked over to where Giocatore sat and used the knuckles to punch him in the stomach. Without missing a beat, he continued, I believe that we’ve had a good customer relationship over the years. I’ve provided the finest vintages of alcohol for you to enjoy — Mouton Snaps then repeated his assault on Giocatore with the brass knuckles — you have been able to increase your wealth at my gaming tables. He turned again and again punched Giocatore in the stomach, "And, don’t forget, the carnal pleasures you’ve experienced at the hands of the mistresses in our seduction suites. I challenge you to show me another gentlemen’s club where the gentlemen and ladies are more sexually satisfied than at my own establishment."

Coughing up a teaspoon of blood, Giocatore quietly whispered, You are a wonderful host, Mr. Snaps.

I can’t hear you, yelled Snaps as he leaned in.

Raising his voice, Giocatore said, You have brought me nothing but pleasure.

If you have done nothing but enjoy yourself, then why the sudden betrayal?

What are you talking about, Mouton?.

You have always paid your bills in a timely fashion. However, Mr. Faux informs me now that you have made no effort to settle your expenses.

I am very sorry, Mr. Snaps. I have recently experienced some financial hardships. I will do my best to make amends. In fact, if you go into my jacket pocket, you’ll find something that will make us square. I assure you of that.

Snaps walked to the end of the bench and picked up Giocatore’s coat, which appeared to be the size of a child’s garment in his massive hand. He fished around in all four pockets, expecting to find a credit card or a virtual banking device. Instead, he found a small silver sphere and what looked like an oversized pen — a cigar-shaped, pulsating device with a hypodermic needle on the end. He turned around, holding out the mysterious item toward Giocatore. On what level of purgatory is this ‘thing’ to be considered any type of currency?

Giocatore smiled. You hold in your hand, Mr. Snaps, an atomic energy extractor. It will disable any android assassin, InOrganic enforcer or other problem android within hours.

How does it work?

This device contains tens of thousands of Nano-bots that will drain the atomic energy from an InOrganic’s biological capacitor.

An interesting toy, but I am not an individual who believes in trade or barter for services. Snaps removed a large, fully automatic tommy laser gun from a secret compartment on the side of the wooden bench. Dr. Tikon Giocatore, I bid you a fond adieu.

Giocatore lifted his hands up in the air, yelling, No! Wait! Mouton Snaps loved it when his prey begged for mercy. However, he did not appreciate the surprise that came next when Giocatore produced a high whistle that caused the atomic energy extractor to be activated and emit a concentrated protonic laser beam, which had the dual effect of disintegrating the cuffs on Giocatore’s hands, as well as singeing Mr. Snaps sizeable hands. Snaps leapt around the office, frantically, alternating between waving his hands and trying to cool them by blowing on them.

Taking full advantage of Snaps’ distracted state, Giocatore then raced over to the right-hand wall of the office. He quickly reached behind a picture of Snaps and the former Prime Minister of the Hindu-Orient, Pachamama Kapota, to find a key code panel, part of a security system that Giocatore had installed as a favor to Snaps. After entering the backdoor override code, a large circular door opened that led to Mouton Snaps private vault. Giocatore ran inside, slamming the door behind him. Among the items of value contained in the vault, he could see a stack of gold and silver bars, about fifty-five million in rupees, twenty thousand in Amerika Republican dollars, a laser pistol, and three bundles of Wolf’s bane pure narcotic as well as a gold-plated syringe. However, he was uninterested in any of these forms of currency or precious items. Instead, he scanned the shelves of the tightly enclosed area for the only thing that for him had any value: Snaps’ Universal Access Card. he spied an old-fashioned flip phone on a lower shelf of the vault. He immediately opened the back of the red phone, smiled, and popped the phone into his pocket. Stepping onto the bottom shelf, he began to climb upwards until he was within reach of an exhaust fan. He’d taken the liberty of disabling the fan the last time he had insisted to Mr. Snaps that he needed to run a diagnostic in the vault. Within minutes, Dr. Giocatore was making his way out through the ventilation system towards the sewers.

Meanwhile, having heard the commotion in the office, Pup Dog came bursting into Mouton Snaps’ office; followed closely by Boristan and Faux who was the first to inquire, What happened, Mr. Snaps?

Our mischievous Mr. Giocatore, got away after handing me that device on the floor.

What did it do to you, Boss? asked Pup Dog.

Gave me a slight electric shock.

You want me to smash it for you? asked Pup Dog.

No. I want you to get after that little weasel. He went inside the vault.

Snaps shook the room as he made his way over to the right-hand wall and punched in the code to enter the vault. He quickly flung the door open and looked around for any signs of his errant client. It was then that he saw the remains of the exhaust fan on the floor. In his disgust, he kicked the fan back into the office, almost decapitating Dalal Boristan. As he stood in the small confines of the vault, Snaps noticed that there was a dust outline where an extremely precious item had been kept.

He is a dead man! yelled Mouton Snaps.

Don’t you want to get your money, Boss? asked Pup Dog.

The only payment I’m going to accept from Dr. Tikon Giocatore is his dead body.

Let’s go track the scum ball down, said Boristan.

Mouton Snaps reached over to the middle shelf and grabbed a package of square, brightly colored yellow leaves and a golden syringe. Just give me a few moments to collect myself. You can wait for me out in the hallway.

Upon the three men exiting the office, Snaps took a lighter and spoon from his desk drawer and placed the yellow leaves onto a glass ashtray on the desk. In an extremely efficient fashion, Mr. Snaps lifted up the glass ashtray and placed the lighter underneath until the organic leaves began to boil into a liquid. He transferred the liquid from the ashtray to the needle by pulling back on the plunger, then injected it into his right arm.

As he fell forward, Snaps deposited the syringe into the top left drawer of his desk before frantically removing his suit and underwear and dropping them to the floor. Within moments, he began sprouting thick tufts of black hair all over his body. His mouth extended into an elongated snout and his teeth turned into razor sharp jaws. Before long, there was a very large brown-and- black grizzly bear standing where Mr. Snaps had been.

Giocatore, you might not realize it yet, said Snaps to the air, but you’ve just scheduled your execution. He reached up with his paws to open the door before walking into the hallway.

3

MARIGOLD:

RECREATIONAL

PURSUITS

▷ 5:18 A.M.

INDIAN STANDARD TIME

Safe within her glass sarcophagus, Marigold had entered her regenerative phase as she slept in Dr. Lycos laboratory. Yet, deep within her central processing unit, she was looking out on a wildly different, but familiar landscape. She was sitting on a beach that she had never visited before, in her waking world, with a full ice bucket, a bottle of wine contained within, and two glasses. From behind her, a voice asked, "Are you thirsty, my