David

  “So, Ava… may I see this workshop of yours?” I asked, looking around the hallway for it. The hallway felt cold and utilitarian, with smooth metal walls and seamless doors that almost vanished into the surface. It was spotless, too spotless, as if time had stopped here. No scuff marks. No dust. No signs of life. Even a university hallway seemed to have more character than this place.

  “Yes, Master. Let me show you the way,” she replied with a slight bow.

  She led the way down a wide corridor, pointing out various rooms as we passed. There were no signs on any of the doors. All of the doors blended in with the walls.

  “This is the sitting room,” she said, gesturing to the left. Stepping inside, I noticed it was reminiscent of the lounge aboard the Enterprise, plush sofas, a scatter of armchairs, and a well-stocked bar lining the back wall.

  “Earl, can we use this room?” Samual asked, already eyeing the liquor bottles behind the counter.

  I turned to Ava. “Is this facility ours to use freely? And do you have more refreshments stored?”

  “Yes, Master. This entire facility is yours. Additional supplies are stored in the first vault.”

  That was good enough for me.

  “Bar’s open,” I told the group. “Just don’t overdo it. There are only seven of you; how much trouble can you get into?” I know famous last words.

  Ava continued the tour, guiding us through the kitchens, sleeping quarters, and more until we stopped in front of a massive door. The door was unlike the others. It was black with oversized door handles. The workshop. Its heavy frame reminded me of the tower entrances, intimidating, thick, and clearly built to last.

  Ava moved forward and opened the door by placing her hand on the wall panel. The door slid open with a soft mechanical sound. As the lights flickered on overhead, a large workshop appeared before me, with rows of metal benches cluttered with old schematics, unfinished machines, and forgotten prototypes. The scent of oil and old metal filled the air. Shelves along the far wall held glowing components and tools, whose purposes I could only imagine. One bench displayed a mecha limb halted mid-assembly, its fingers still curled as if it had perished mid-thought.

  “Oh no,” Seraphina muttered with a smile. “David’s home.”

  Walking to one of the multiple benches, I found technical drawings scattered across its surface, curling at the edges with age. “Hmm. Good theory,” I murmured, scanning the schematics. “But this motor diagram’s flawed. The hinge geometry’s all wrong.”

  General Kitch came up behind me, eyeing the pages like they were written in another language. “You… understand all that?”

  “Yes,” I replied, gesturing. “It’s a strut using what’s called a pancake motor, compact but strong. The issue’s here, at the joint. The torque values don’t align. It would shear under load. Looks like some form of mecha suit…”

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  He gave me a look that clearly said, I’ll take your word for it.

  “Yes… looks like they were working on a powered suit of armor…” He wasn’t fully seeing it yet. “General, just imagine a suit that gives a soldier the strength of a Troll.” Now I can see that he gets it.

  “Ohh…” He said, looking at the drawing.

  “David,” Allira said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’re heading to the lounge. Don’t stay too long.”

  I nodded. As the others filtered out, the room grew quiet, leaving only me, Allyson, and Ava.

  Their loss.

  I wandered the room, examining projects that had been abandoned mid-build. Some showed promise. Others… not so much. One corner looked like the failed-idea graveyard. On one side, I noticed a sealed door.

  “Ava,” I asked, “did you ever want to leave this place? Travel to the other towers like Allyson?”

  “I cannot, Master,” she said softly. “I was never meant to leave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was built for this vault. Every line of code, every wire in my body is tied to this place. If I go too far…” She trailed off, her glowing eyes dimming. “I cease to operate.”

  “Cannot?” I asked, turning to face her.

  “Yes, Master. My scripting isn’t like Miss Allyson’s. I don’t have an internal power core. All the units here share a central core, located in a dedicated room. Without it, we cannot operate.” That hit me wrong. Why would they do that? Why trap her here like this?

  “That’s where I have a problem… when they say ‘cannot’ or ‘impossible,’” I muttered, glancing around as if the core might be nearby.

  “Why, Master?”

  “Because, Ava… I remember a quote from an old theorist: ‘All things are possible, except skiing through a revolving door.’” I looked back at her. “Now… where’s this power core?”

  “Through the library,” she said, already leading the way. “But Master… before we enter, I must inform you: all the books inside are restricted. The Council forbade sharing their contents.” I frowned. She was built to rely on knowledge she wasn’t allowed to access, and no one was allowed to help her. They locked her in a vault… and then threw away the key.

  “The Council may not even exist anymore,” I muttered. “For all we know, I am the Council now.”

  Ava paused for a long moment before unlocking the library door. The library welcomed us with silence. Towering shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, each packed with ancient tomes bound in leather, metal, or materials I couldn’t name. Dust hung in the air like fog, stirred only by our steps. The scent of old paper and arcane residue clung to everything. It wasn’t just a room; it was a tomb of knowledge.

  She pointed to a tall, matte-black door at the far end of the library, no handles, no frame, just a vertical line of light where the halves met. It looked less like a door and more like a boundary not meant to be crossed. The markings on the door clearly read “Danger: Do Not Enter.”

  “This leads to our core,” Ava stated. I approached. Just as I reached for the door, Ava stopped me.

  “Master,” she said, more softly now, “before you see it… You should know. The core is almost depleted.” I nodded, and Ava opened the door for me.

  The chamber beyond opened like a wound in the mountain, round, raw, and echoing with power. Unlike the other rooms, jagged stone walls rose unevenly around us, casting long shadows under the pale blue glow that radiated from the sphere hovering at the center. The core pulsed slowly, like a dying heartbeat, each flicker of light dimmer than the last. I could feel it before I even stepped forward, the hum of something ancient, heavy with purpose… and near the end of its life.

  Silent. Faintly pulsing. I stepped closer. The hum of its energy was weak, barely audible. And it was dying.

  “Allyson, what’s its condition?” I asked, stepping around the floating sphere.

  She knelt to examine it, her eyes glowing faintly. “Master, I estimate six months remaining, less if all local systems remain active.”

  Six months. Maybe less. That’s all Ava and the rest of the golems here had left, after ten thousand years of waiting and protecting. I glanced at her, then made the decision.

  “Ava… would you like to leave this place?”