Inside The Scrambled House
Compared to the empty alley they had walked in from, the Scrambled House was alive with activity. Even still, it felt different to the crowded streets of the Lower Tangled City. It was a calm and deliberate activity. As the four of them moved slowly through these quiet clusters, Kelii noticed that, unlike the Tangled City, there was nothing impromptu about the people that filled this confined grotto.
The floor spread out before them in uneven cuts of hardwood panels. The dark round knots that lay underneath every step, gazed up at the house’s patrons with inquiring eyes. Kelii wondered if these knots were looking on in jealousy, or if it was with a content regard that they observed their guests. Rising from the floor in seemingly random intervals, were thick support beams in a slightly lighter wood. These pillars were smoothed to the point of shining, reflecting some hidden light source that bathed the Scrambled House in a warming glow.
The truest artistry of the place, though, lay in its natural structure. Surrounding everything was a windowless canopy of speckled grey rock, arching over the large narrow room to create a cave-like structure. It merged so well with the wooden floors and beams that it almost felt as though the rock had grown around them. The dull greys of these rock walls were kept in check by long, wide veins of Pounamu that had been cut at flat angles and stretched up from the floor, along the walls, to the roof above. The brilliant, green, stone looked like the surface of a frozen ocean, trapped in mid-churn, wisping up to lick its limits before being suspended in midair. Perhaps it was this, that the knots in the floor observed. Perhaps they were waiting for this great green sea to thaw, and for the house to return to its constituent parts once more.
After a few moments of stumbling through gatherings and conversations, the crowds began to thin, and their schemes gave way to stalls and shelves full of oddities. Kelii recognised a few of these objects; dust-stained books, yellowed electronics, old machine parts, and yet, most of it was completely different to anything she’d ever seen. Large balls of sparkling blue-white liquid hung from ropes along a sagging cross beam, dark purple sheets of fabric sat stacked on top of one another, but not touching. In one corner, yellow ferns crowded large terracotta pots, drooping from the heavy load of fist-sized teardrop fruits. Another shelf, on the other side of the room held what looked like the hilts for some sort of extendable blade. Two cloaked characters stood with their backs to Kelii, examining these weapons, and the other weapon-like objects resting on horizontal stands. They discussed something in an unspoken language, and exchanged movements between their cloaks. At first glance it looked as though the artifacts of at least 20 different cultures were all represented in a single room. Kelii felt so far removed from some of what she was seeing, she failed to register that some of it was real. Kelii had a feeling that if Tykon were conscious right now, he might just faint at the sight of all of this. They were all magical artifacts, that much was clear, and they certainly weren’t registered by The Harmony or stashed away safely somewhere.
Of course, if Tykon were awake, Kelii would be able to properly experience this strange and wonderful place with Mar, who would likely have a lot to say. Unfortunate then that they were both too strained between holding up the Tykon, and keeping up with Casp’s sprightly sister, to spend the time discussing what they were seeing.
Eventually they came to a stop, in front of a small door made from the same hardwood as the floor, and filled with just as many of the little knots and imperfections that made it so unique. Casp’s sister opened the door, and, for the first time since they’d left the alley, turned to Kelii, and Mar, and the poor young Harmony official slung around their shoulders, and ushered them to come forth.
Beyond the door was a room, a workshop by the looks, with a monstrous square workbench at its center and dozens of dangling lights overhead. Kelii and Mar set Tykon down on the opposite side of the work bench. He wasn’t so heavy, but 10 minutes of dragging him out of the alley and through the Scrambled House, had taken its toll. He stirred now, making small groaning sounds under his slow breath. He was still out cold but shades of consciousness were emerging. Kelii didn’t want to think too much about Tykon’s impending return to the world of the wakeful. She was embarrassed. Or perhaps stressed. Accident or not, she had attacked the man!
Something Kelii noticed immediately, was that the square workshop they were in now was just as messy as Casp’s storehouse. Clutter filled every corner of the room, writhing it’s way off the floor and up the walls into sharp pinnacles of gadgets and curios. Many of the trinkets resembled those which were positioned on display, outside the workshop and yet, for some unknown reason to Kelii, these particular objects must have been less important in some way.
Underneath it all, though, was something sterile, a plain white room with stainless steel fixtures, which felt odd, given the raw, organic space they had passed through to get here. It was at this moment that Kelii had a sudden, stomach-sinking realisation that they’d just walked into this strange, dead-end room on the assumption that this black and gold furred alien in front of them, was in fact Casp’s sister. Kelii stepped toward them as they came to a stop. “Umm, excuse me, you are Casp’s sister, aren’t you?” It felt a bit foolish now, to ask this after having come this far, but Kelii needed to assuage her concerns. Kelii locked eyes with Mar who looked more amused than worried, at Kelii’s question. It made her feel better, knowing that Mar seemed relaxed.
Casp’s could-be sister laughed in response. “Of course I am, dear! And I'm a woman too! Casp’s sister indeed...” There was a hint of sarcasm behind her voice but Kelii took no offence, she was just relieved that her sudden spiral of what-ifs had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“You're Kelii of course.” Casp’s sister said, as if it were written across Kelii’s forehead.
“And you…” she turned to Mar with a smile. “Must be Mar. Your Nanas have told me all about you.”
Mar seemed impressed, if not a little embarrassed by this, Kelii thought. She’d have to ask Mar about that later. Another something to add to the list of somethings to talk about, when there was time to talk.
“I’m Dashumpar” The alien continued. “But you can call me Aunty Par.” She turned her rotund figure around and shuffled towards the back of the workshop, where a grey plastic crate sat against the wall.
“Now let’s take a look at this splinter of yours shall we?”
“What is this place?” Kelii asked, as Aunty Par dove head first into the plastic crate. Without looking up, she replied between breaths, in a labored voice.
“The Harmony might control the Junction of Worlds now, but much of the Bazaar is still the same as it’s always been. This place here, a Scrambled House, as some call it, is one such place. It moves through the Bazaar, unseen, away from the prying eyes of The Harmony.”
Aunty Par tossed aside a few small boxes that scattered across the floor, into another corner of the room.
“Why is it still hidden then?” Kelii asked. “Why hide it from The Harmony? It’s been over two decades since the Collapse.”
Aunty Par responded, with half her body still in the grey crate. “Yes! The junction rejoices, peace between worlds!”
She paused, tossing more boxes onto the ground, continuing to speak but this time in a slower and more serious tone. “Look, I’m old enough to remember the times immediately following the Collapse, so believe me when I say that I’m glad for that peace now. But, it has cost a great many worlds their true identity. The Harmony practices the illusion of cultural acceptance with their welcoming ceremonies, and their grand exchanges, and their accepting of minor Magics, but the truth is much less sincere. The Harmony’s real success lies not in it’s faux-embrace of difference, but its hidden ability to homogenize… to standardize everything in its path. By restricting so much magic and enforcing their laws, they’ve disenfranchised everyone, equally, in the name of peace. The secrets that once made us who we are, that made us all stronger, are now being kept by people to whom they never belonged.”
A now half-awake Tykon looked as though he took issue with this description, but either thought better of it, or was still too groggy to muster the words.
Aunty Par gazed down at Tykon and then back towards Kelii and Mar, expression unchanged. “The differences of the multiverse are its strength, not its weakness, and The Heavens Bazaar is evidence of this.” Aunty Par had emerged from her storage now, with a coil-like object in the shape of a triangle.
“However” she continued. “The Harmony doesn’t see it this way. They think uniformity and control are the best ways to maintain peace. The truth is, the multiverse is far too vast for that to ever work. They’ll never convert every world, and every culture, and every people, to their cause. It works in the short term, off the coattails of war, but for us all to survive the coming storm, we must return to the happy equilibrium we once maintained for so long, before the collapse.”
The coming storm? What the heck does that mean? Kelii was confused by this, but had little time to query it before the conversation continued.
Aunty Par walked towards the workbench, and spoke with a more deliberate pace, perhaps realising she’d veered slightly from Kelii’s original question.”Anyway, In many ways, yes, this place is a fragment of a time before all of this, from before the Collapse. It's a surviving trinket from a forgotten time, where worlds collided in a messy, and beautiful, peace. A time where stability did not suppose conformity, and the diversity of the multiverse was a celebrated strength.
“I... “
“Ah...”
Both Kelii and Mar noised over one another, ready with more questions than they had answers. But, once again. Aunty Par gave them little time to breathe.
“Pass me the splinter, my dear.” Aunty Par said, holding out her brown leathered palms right in front of Kelii’s face. Aunty Par’s black and gold fur grew in identical patterns to Casp’s, as far as Kelii could tell, and shined just as lustrously under the clusters of lights above them, but it was hard to get a full picture of it, between her oppressive hand gesturing and her abrupt movements.
Kelii took a step back, pulled out the splinter and handed it to the short alien who had somehow, in between reaching for Kelii’s prize, gotten herself up onto a stainless steel stool that allowed her to lean over and observe the workbench. Kelii noticed that the splinter had warmed again from earlier, Though she wondered if perhaps it would always be like that now? There were still so many unknowns about this intrancing fragment of wood. The nerves this triggered shot through Kelii in rapid jolts that matched her beating heart, as she anticipated more truths to emerge.
Aunty Par took the splinter and put it on the workbench with a rough thud, then recovered the item she’d found earlier and placed it alongside. The item was a rust-red coloured incense coil, shaped into the dimensions of a triangle with a circular base. Aunty Par rubbed her index and thumb slowly above the bottom rung of the coil and in one small flash, it lit up. The flame, and its sparks, traveled slowly around the coil, releasing a thick grey smoke that quickly began filling up the ceiling space, where dotted acoustic panels hovered between them and some other part of the Scrambled House.
Once the smoke maintained a steady flow, Aunty Par grabbed the splinter again and dropped it above the coil. Instead of falling, the splinter remained stationary, Floating in the smoke much in the same way that it had floated for Kelii and Mar in the alleyway. Mar blurted from behind Kelii, finally getting a word out for the first time since they arrived in the room. “What's this meant to do aunty?! We know it floats, we’ve already seen that!”
“Patience Mar, look, and listen.” Aunty Par said, with barely more than a whisper.
Sure enough, the splinter began to squeal, one could only imagine because of the trapped air that squeezed its way out into the world, in the heat of the smoke. This was fascinating but not unusual. Most people were familiar with the sound of burning wood. Not long afterwards though, something a lot more strange began to take hold. The Auroral colours of the track gates shot through the splinter like little bolts of lightning, eventually fixing themselves in place like veins. Between each one of these colourful veins were glowing characters, a language it seemed, from a long forgotten time, illegible to all of them. All of them, it appeared, except Aunty Par, who considered the piece of wood for a while before releasing a loud, bellowing “ha!” that Kelii never would have guessed had come from Aunty Par had she not been there to witness it.
“Well by the Bazaar! I’ll be!” Aunty Par grabbed the splinter and quickly placed it back down on the table, clearly very hot to the touch now. “That damned bastard brother of mine was right…” Aunty Par picked the splinter again and held it up to the light.
“Look at it would you?” She said, more to herself than to the rest of the room. “Soak it up folks! You’re witnesses to a very special discovery, especially in these times.”
Aunty Par waved the splinter in the air. “This right here, my friends, is a cut of wood from the Bazaar itself. The power that creates the world around us right now, that provides us with the air to breathe and the space to live, and move, and eat, and trade, that same power lives within this splinter.”
Aunty Par faced Kelii, and continued. “As the first to touch this in some time, Kelii, the power is likely imprinted on you now, especially after having just used it earlier. In a way, you are bound to it, and it to you.”
“Oh goodness, I haven’t seen one of these since, phwoah, before the war?” Aunty Par wiped her hand down her face and rubbed her chin for a moment.
“They used to call them Cores. Deeply ancient magic. Almost a template for magic. Or a catalyst for it. Everyone can use it, and everyone’s response to it is different, there’s no natural-born distinction. But, there are some who are more sensitive to it. Have you ever felt a… Strangeness when crossing the threshold between worlds? What is it that you lot call it? The travellers touch? It is the same magic at work. Just as it is with the Bazaar, the same magic that powers the tracks powers this core. It lets you bend the energy around you and therefore bend space itself. The energy contained in something of this size is nowhere near enough to generate something like a track gate, but it’s still capable of many wonderful tricks…”
For once, it was Aunty Par who didn’t get a chance to finish speaking. Tykon suddenly exploded with words, as if he’d been building up speed during his silence and finally released it, startling them all into silence. “Under the Free Salvage Act all foreign artifacts found are property of the Harmony. If Kelii found this as part of a wreck, on a Harmony survey mission, she has to hand it over to the artifacts authority immediately for processing and safe keeping!” It felt like Tykon was speed reading out loud, straight from the pages of some drab textbook or official document. The energy he had just expended to recite this had taken its toll though, and he was soon left grumbling and out of breath again.
Aunty Par smiled a little, and replied to Kelii while continuing to eye up Tykon. “You could do as the young boy says, you know, nothing terrible would happen, I wouldn’t think, but also nothing particularly useful would happen, either.”
“The truth is, there are much bigger things at play here than you, or I, or even The Harmony. With the appearance of this, an old thought has slowly regained its strength. It's clear to me that the withered bones of our past tremble again, reassembling themselves into some new and unknown horror. This discovery is just one rise in a symphony of rumblings that have been slowly building towards a crescendo.” Aunty Par liked her words, this was now acutely clear to Kelii, nevertheless, she continued to listen, for it felt like there was great wisdom behind them.
Aunty Par picked up the Core again, waving it around as she gestured in speech. “You have a choice to make, my dear, and the way I see it, you have two options”
“The first option is, well, me. Aunty Par can keep the core for you, for safekeeping. I can study it and care for it, and you can go back to the rings and back to your salvaging contracts, and when it calls for you, and it will call for you, it will be here, ready for you to collect it.”
“The second option, would be to take the core on a journey, to the belt of the Rock Nomads, for it’s only there that you’ll be able to learn the real truths about this artifact, how to wield it and why the core has, only just now, chosen to reveal itself. The Rock Nomads are perhaps the only civilisation still living today who might hold some secrets that haven’t yet been shared or stolen. They might know of a specific use for this core, or at least help you use it, to prevent it from happening again.
All three of the friends perked up at this point. Questioning expressions fell on their faces under the harsh workshop light. “Prevent what?” they all asked, in their own, particular way.
“Oh my, dears, no, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying it could happen again. Don’t get me wrong. I’m saying it almost definitely will happen again. This you must know, this is the cycle of life in the Junction of Worlds, it is all finite”
Aunty Par was pacing around the workshop now, her speech full of vigour. “Why do you think the Harmony is so obsessed with artifact analysis? They're desperately trying to find a way to prevent it from happening again. They’re looking for a power strong enough to contend against power itself.”
“Prevent WHAT Aunty! What in the Bazaar are you talking about?!” Mar’s voice was raised now, frustrated by Aunty Par’s whimsey and lack of clarity.
Aunty Par replied, in a strange, disassociated tone, which made the next words that came out of her mouth all the more disturbing.
“Well, the next Collapse, obviously. What else?”
