As Johanna tugged at the projector's side, it eventually would have opened with an loud
SNAP. The media within was ejected with such force that it hurtled across the room, to clatter to the floor, and it seemed as though a collective exhale through the world around her, as the distant hammering resumed its irregular clattering and booming. Perhaps, in this case, it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, for who knew what the secrets contained within would attract to this strange and curious place?
The heat pouring from the thing's internals did not deter it from accepting her next request, and once more the surroundings began to dim.
With a
click, the screen came to life. This time, the video was more... clear. The setting seemed to be an office of some kind, a relatively modern looking one. The night sky was reflected in the windows, and before it was a dark monitor, a stylish black lamp, and a comfortable looking red leather chair. Books were stacked up on the desk's sides, but their titles were not immediately readable.
A hand retracted itself from the side of the camera, focusing it on the one facing it. A
man in his late thirties, or perhaps early forties, lips pursed in thought, ran unkempt fingers through his dark hair, settling in to the chair, his long labcoat seemingly slightly too large for his thin shoulders, as though he had been larger when it had originally been fitted.
"My name... is Doctor Gordon Griswold, a founder and Lead Researcher of the Alternative Energy Institute." He began, only to pause, giving a small sigh.
"Well... I suppose it's called the Dimensional Energy Institute now." Said Dr. Griswold, settling into a thoughtful hunch, his arms folded on the desk.
"I would like this recording to serve as my confession... for all the wrong that I have done."
His eyes occasionally flicked away, into the shadows of the room. It did not seem so much that he was concerned about being discovered in his confessional, but that something heavier weighed on his mind.
"Twenty-one years ago, while venturing in the North Pole, my colleague Bertram Kestler and I were separated in an sudden avalanche. We were there investigating some previously unknown energy signatures. During that time, as we staggered through the icy caverns, lost and afraid... I found something.
Something... great, and terrible.
A monster, wrought of towering spires of crystal, that lurked beneath the ice. And... As though
compelled, I touched it. The process we have as scientists... It's not very rational, if you really think about it, is it? Just... a touch. That was all.
From that day forward, I never knew a full night's sleep, not even after we were rescued from that frozen Hell. My mind was filled with... visions. Knowledge of... places. People. Concepts and ideas that surpassed even the latest and greatest discoveries being made on the surface of the Moon. Absurdities that could not possibly be true, yet when tested were as immutable and concrete as the coldest fact.
At the time... I truly believed that these sparks of inspiration could be put to good use. I believed this "Black Knowledge"... could serve humanity. Bertram and I founded the Institute, and together we were able to reconstruct the Martian EOT relics known as Proton Drives. Our most lasting achievement however, was establishing and legitimizing the field of "Dimensional Science"... I was convinced by Bertram, and indeed, the allure of financial success, to publish my visions in a way that was... consumer friendly."
A ginger click-clacking at his keyboard, and the monitor beside him came to life. It showed little more than an ethereal green glow, labeled "
ARCTIC SAMPLE FLUCTUATIONS 18".
"Clean. Pure. Harmless. Endless. Dimensional Power soon became the talk of the energy world, and were it not for the limited quantities of the crystals we scavenged from the frigid north, we would swiftly have supplanted the existing plasma-based reactors that keep the lights on for most of humanity as we know it. It has been sold to the public as a miracle cure, power derived from other worlds - and Bertram intends to tightly control the supply, for our benefit.
More worrying... he plans to capitalize on the military's requests for weapons using our technology. This... Is something I cannot abide by. My conscience will not permit it."
Here, the Doctor paused, his features as tight as his voice. He reached for one of the sleeves of his labcoat, unbuttoning it and sliding up the dark shirt beneath to reveal bare flesh. Or... what ought to have been bare flesh. On his inner forearm, a patch of pure blackness peered back at the video. Within its depths seemed to glimmer burning red eyes, six in total, each constantly burning itself out and being reborn - yet just as quickly it seemed to disappear, as the man ran his hand across it surface, concealing the brand.
"Though my soul may be owed to Gizos Gragios..." He said, quietly. "With this act, I defy him."
He gave a slow, shuddering sigh... And continued briskly, his hands moving confidently as he leapfrogged from term to term, in the manner of a teacher or a lecturer.
"What we call "Dimensional Power" is referred to in its purest form as "
Origin Law" He explained, "It is the power of
"fate", the ability to make alterations to the underlying order of the galaxy, the
Akashic Records, through will alone. It is the very tool wielded by the Gods of myth, one that heeds nothing but the desires of who commands it.
And yet... We have trivialized it. Commercialized it. I fear terribly, that we have unleashed upon this world something that it is ill prepared for. A power that risks plunging all of humanity into a war, after decades of peace."
Another click, and his display changed once more. A series of symbols in rapid succession, before they were arranged in a circular fashion, taking the form of a display that would be immediately familiar to any who had ever opened a newspaper.
"Central to Origin Law are the
Twelve. They are artifacts known as "
Spheres", each a fragment of the God that once watched over our world, correlating to the twelve celestial signs of the Zodiac. Those that these "Spheres" choose, their "Reactors", will be pitted against one another in a bid for supremacy... For the one who holds all twelve will carry absolute power, and rule over existence as a new God. That... is what my visions have shown me.
Were the wrong individual to attain these... the consequences for humanity, for all of existence, would be dire beyond description. I cannot allow that to pass."
Here, he stopped. Griswold turned towards the camera, and let his shoulders fall, elbows resting on the table before him. It was a full minute before he spoke, as though he had needed to gather the will to do so.
"...Eliza." He said, finally.
"You have grown so much, and come so far. Instructing you has been the greatest experience of my life, the one thing that I do not regret about my time at the Institute. Even if everything else has been lost, wasted, exploited..."
He raised his eyes, and from behind his glasses, wipe away a tear forming at the edge of his eyes, trying to give a confident smile.
"I... am so very proud of you."
Gathering himself, he pulled into the frame what appeared to be a battered, leather-bound volume, held tight with an ornate bronze metal clasp. Holding it in his hands, Griswold continued.
"Behind this tablet, you will find my journal. Contained within its pages is everything I have learned through the Black Knowledge... The secrets of the Twelve... and the underlying theories of Origin Law. All that I know, I leave it to you. Bertram is a charlatan, a pretender who thinks only of his own profit, not of the consequences of his actions... and I was foolish to ever trust him to be anything more than that.
Childhood friendships... are difficult things to rid oneself of. We always believe in the best of people, even when we ought not to.
But, you?
I have faith... that you will find a way."
The book was placed on the desk, and Griswold folded his hands over its surface in contemplation.
"As for me..." He said, quietly, looking down at its cover.
"After today's experiment, I must... depart. It will not be long, now... before Gragios takes me. The Dark God of Creation has his own designs in mind, and I am powerless to resist him as I am."
He nodded, slowly, as if his next words were not directed to the viewer, but wholly to himself.
"Yes. In order to undo what I have done... I must traverse the
dark."
Blinking, as though suddenly remembering he was being recorded, the good Doctor addressed the camera once more... and waved farewell.
"Goodbye, Eliza. Be strong."
The audio filled with a low crackling, slowly rising into a roar, as the edges of the picture seemed to burn away, enveloping the entire frame as it curled up into little more than a scrap of black paper - before scattering into ash.
Heat.
Perhaps it was the influence of the "memory" working itself upon the world around it as its destruction was brought to life. Perhaps it was something else, some other sinister entity making its presence known. All that Johanna would have known, as the room returned to full brightness, was the distinct scent of burning paper.
Fire now raged through the insides of the library - yet it did not burn her, its phantasmal light surging across the bookshelves, licking their surfaces and flowing like liquid Hell in every direction. All of the world around her seemed to be burning down, being tossed into some great and terrible furnace, where memories that were not supposed to resurface were condemned to the cinders of existence. It raged and raged, crumpling up the world before her, turning it all into dust in a matter of minutes, all of the great library seemingly being swept out of her view.
And yet, when all of it had burned away - she was falling again. Falling through infinite, depthless blackness. Eventually, the Weissritter's thrusters would have activated, flaring as it fell through featureless black - and down, into the "ceiling" of her destination.
In contrast to the heat from before, a cool breeze swept over the Weissritter's form, and pale waters lapped at its feet as it descended. The "room" for lack of better word, was like a massive octagon - the sides of which were clear, transparent crystal. the floor being covered in opaque blue water, tides turning listlessly under an influence that was not immediately apparent.
At the center of the room... was her prize.
A series of brown, statue-like arms reached up from the water, all curled around something green and round that pulsed with an eerie light, each sending strange reflections across the waters around her. Each pulse seemed to be matched with the tenth beat of her heart, as though it were emitting its own silent siren call to the one it had chosen, and guided them to this seat of dreams.
The
Sphere of the Curious Goat.