Six Cracks in the Coil
Sequencing: Chronological
Cognitive Insights: Enabled
Primary Entities: Grin | Mindio
Wandering Entities Detected: Sabator | Tip
Verification Status: Confirmed
Mindio wrestled with the gear-crusted door of the Mired Spirits, nearly catching his sleeve in the handle before shoving it open. His factory boot snagged on the indented lip of the threshold, sending him stumbling forward with a muttered curse.
Regaining his footing, he surveyed the dim interior and finally felt the weight of his long shift begin to lift.
Technically, the Mired Spirits was just a metal cube stuck to the wall of the Central Reactor, but then the patrons came, and every passing soul left a mark. A trinket. A scar. Every inch of that cube now breathed with the stories of the lost, the reckless, the desperate.
Here, the air thrummed—alive with sound and fury. Shouts ricocheted off steel walls patched with dead machine parts, layered in forgotten scripts, and stained-glass slivers that once mapped out landscapes long gone.
The floor rattled under Mindio’s feet. A cozy kind of filth.
A long counter stretched along one side, hammered out from a single slab of alloy—burned from chemical spills, scratched up by rowdy elbows, slick with sweat and oil.
Behind the bar? Shelves crammed with shimmering liquids in twisted bottles, soft-glowing vials, syringes stuffed with mist, gadgets clicking and whirring, binding molecules, doing who-knows-what.
Mindio slipped past the crowd that gathered at the entrance and suddenly recognized someone at one of the tables. Sabator, the ever-watchful bouncer, sat close with a masked woman. Between them lay his golden handgun. Her dark braid coiled like a serpent over her shoulder. Mindio had never spoken to her but knew her name was Tip. Sabator looked down from under the brim of his hat and leaned in. His eyes hid behind tinted lenses as he looked intently at the patterns the woman traced with her finger on the surface of their table.
Mindio thought to greet the two but then halted mid-step. Their murmured conversation didn’t reach his ears, but something about their demeanor raised an internal alarm—perhaps that conspiratorial lean. It made his skin prickle. He knew better. His feet shifted, and he was headed for the bar, moving fast before he could second-guess it.
He reached the counter, settled onto his customary stool, and his eyes drifted slowly to the panoramic window on the opposite wall.
The view was something else. The Core’s skyline sprawled out—Upper District’s spires and arches poked up below, the Sutom Complex stretched like a scar, the canyon of Conflux Corridor sank below the rooftops, and temples of Tendar Mas Duoma reflected the light like a beacon just under the edge of the wall.
And beyond all that, the black hole loomed on the horizon, its accretion disk throwing off the Doppler-shifted light of a late cycle, bathing the bar in shades of violet. How did they get that view from the ground floor of the Central Reactor? That was one of the greatest puzzles of the Mired Spirits.
“Admiring the view again, Mindio?” Grin’s voice sliced through the buzz like scrap metal in a blender. “If the answer were out there, we’d all be gone by now.”
Mindio snapped back and turned his head to the creature behind the bar, a Bot with a metal mask for a face, black hat tilted just right, leather jacket creaking as they moved. But the real showstopper was the golden jaw slapped onto their faceplate. It looked like it had been pried off some high-roller or maybe won in a rigged bet. It didn’t quite fit—edges jagged where metal met gold—but it gave them that crooked smirk. That signature grin.
“Can’t help it,” Mindio shrugged and chuckled a bit awkwardly. He wasn’t quick on his feet with a retort, but he flashed his teeth at Grin, glad to see them.
Grin tilted their head. “What’ll it be tonight? The usual, I bet?”
“Yeah,” Mindio muttered, sinking into his stool like he knew he’d be glued to it for a while. “Just give me some warp.”
Grin looked up from polishing a glass. “You’re in a rut, my friend. How about something different? Spice up the night?”
Mindio shook his head. “Not feelin’ it. Just need something to smooth the rough edges.”
Grin seemed to pause for a moment, as if stuck in some electric thoughts, and then their optic sensors lit up a special kind of green. “Long cycles wearing you down, eh? Can’t blame ya. Same old shuffle drains the spirit.”
Mindio snorted. “Only thing changin’ is the layers of grime on my boots.”
Grin leaned in and rasped a scratchy whisper. “What if I told you I have something really special? Something that’ll not just take the edge off but might even give you a new one?”
“Last time I took one of your ‘specials,’ I woke up on some wind-blasted plateau outside the walls, wearin’ nothing but an atmospheric helmet, tryin’ to light a fire with my own damn crap.”
The Bot laughed heartily with a heavy mechanical rasp. “Ah, but you kept coming back, didn’t you? Besides, this one’s on the house.”
“Appreciate the offer, but I’ll stick with the warp.”
“Still livin’ scared, I see. Fine, warpwine it is.” They grabbed a bottle, tipped it over a fat, grimy bug writhing at the bottom of the glass. A trickle of red splashed down—nowhere near a full serving.
Mindio tapped the rim, raising his eyebrows, gesturing for more. Grin chuckled, eyes flashing that special green, and topped it off.
As he slid the glass over, Grin added casually, “I’ve been tinkering with something in the back. A little project that could use a man of your… discerning tastes.”
Mindio took a cautious sip. The burn crept in slowly. Then, he tipped the glass back and took a mouthful. The heat hit him hard—his breath caught, eyes popping right out of his head. He coughed, blinked, and tried steadying himself under Grin’s penetrating gaze.
Mindio sighed to himself, eyes drifting to the ceiling before he slowly lifted his chin with an empty-headed look on his face. “Fine. Can’t wait to regret asking—what kind of nightmare are you working on in the back now?”
Grin shrugged, wiping down the counter with a rag. “Oh, just a small one. Nothing dangerous. Could be something in it for the both of us.”
Mindio took another sip, his jaw set, fingers drumming once on the glass before going still.
Grin leaned in, something rotten in that crooked gold jaw. “C’mon,” they hissed, voice sliding like grease down a drain. “You don’t even have to say yes—just for listening, I’ll slip you somethin’ for free, somethin’ that’ll burn deep.”
Mindio paused, glass halfway to his lips—chapped, cracked things, stained with soot, like he had been chewing on rust. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Blitz,” Grin whispered with an odd glint in the old mechanical eyes.
Mindio nearly choked. “Blitz!? I thought that stuff was extinct.”
“Gone for most,” Grin’s optics winked. “I got a barrel sittin’ pretty in the back. Been savin’ it for special friends.”
“Why me?” Mindio asked. Suspicion began bubbling up again past the warp in his gut.
Grin lurched forward and spoke with such an earnest tone. “Because I trust you. You’re a regular, a real barfly. And let’s be honest—you could use a change of pace.”
Mindio felt himself gettin’ reeled in. He swirled his drink, wearing that fake, thinking face—empty upstairs, just fumes and static. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch!” Grin assured. “Just need you to try out a new… sensory experience. There will be a machine there—purely to monitor your vitals—and we’ll let you taste something that’ll rip your mind outta this world.”
“You’re tryin’ to turn me into one of your lab freaks.”
“Lab freaks? Lab freaks?! You wound me, Mindio!” Their voice ratcheted up, gears spinning faster. “This isn’t some backyard tinkering, man. This is big—no, colossal! We’re talking about unraveling the greatest mystery of this realm.”
“Which is?”
Grin’s eyes whirred in circles like they’d just mainlined a bolt of pure. They leaned in even closer, rusty face bare inches from Mindio’s. “The origins of my kind,” they said with pomp, and a sudden hint of longing crept into the synthetic rasp. “We’ve been searching for cycles uncounted.” Grin’s arms flailed wide, fingers curled like claws, as if he were casting some twisted spell over the flames. “You could be the key! The missing piece! The catalyst that sets off a chain reaction of discovery!”
Mindio laughed, a short, humorless sound. The allure was there, sure, but so was the nagging sense that Grin might’ve fried a circuit. He scoffed. “Me? I’m just a wire-puller in the Sutom, trying to make it through the shift.”
“Exactly,” Grin said, seizing on the point. “An ordinary man, making an extraordinary difference. Imagine the stories they’d tell. Imagine it—tales spreading through the Terminus like wildfire. Mindio, the legend who lifted the veil of amnesia from our species!”
“Go ahead, sell me on it,” Mindio said mockingly, but the spark of intrigue in his eyes gave him away.
Grin ducked under the counter and came up with a dusty old bottle floating inside another, marked with jagged spirals, broken lines, and dots arranged like insect trails. “Tell you what—this is all yours! On the house, no strings attached.”
Mindio’s eyes bulged. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Grin’s eyes flashed that excited green again. Before Mindio could react, the rusty bartender had already jabbed a needle through the cork of the double bottle, a hose running down to a tiny shot glass. He started pumping the fluid. As they worked on filling the glass, whirring and grinding noises spilled from their insides, like gears misfiring somewhere.
Mindio took the glass and explored it with a tentative sniff. The smell alone made his head spin. “Alright, but I’m not agreeing to anything just yet.”
Grin grabbed Mindio’s elbow—firm grip, a bit too tight—and in one swift motion, tilted the shot right into Mindio’s open mouth. The liquid hit his tongue with heavy voltage. The taste was booming, a blend of sweet and sharp that made Mindio’s head swim like a rag swirling in a clogged drain.
“Whoa!” Mindio coughed, the world tilting for a second. “What was that for?”
Grin paused and let out a ragged, gleeful exhale, like a pressure valve popping, the sound too loud, too alive. “Couldn’t risk you changin’ your mind,” they said with an edge that sent a shiver down Mindio’s spine. “Now, shall we head to the backroom? More privacy there.”
Mindio wiped his mouth. Part of him wanted to bolt, but the blitzed part was all Grin’s. “Alright, lead the way. But, uh…” He paused, eyes darting like he was trying to catch a stray thought. “As I said…” A flash of fear crossed his face before fading back into nothing. “I’m not agreeing to anything yet.”
“Yes, yes,” Grin barked, hands slicing through the air, cutting down Mindio’s doubts and motioning him forward.
They weaved through the crowd of patrons, past the terrarium and the levitating tables, until they reached a heavy door marked ‘Private.’ Grin unlocked it by punching in the code.
They shoved the door open and pushed Mindio inside. The place hit like a punch—sterile but dirty. Floor tiles were lit by the harsh lamps overhead. Oil slicks and mystery stains smeared patterns that refused to be traced. Wires dangled from above, dripping condensation or something nastier, and everything hummed as if alive. “Welcome to the backroom,” Grin shut the door behind them.
“Cozy,” Mindio remarked, eyeing a chair that looked suspiciously like an operating table. He froze mid-sentence, eyes glazing over as if his brain had hit a dead circuit. A second later, he blinked back to life. “What’s all this for?”
“Just to monitor your responses,” Grin explained. “Standard procedure for this kind of thing.”
“I’m not liking this,” Mindio said, taking a step back towards the door.
“Wait!” Grin implored, moving to block the exit. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to take in. But think about what I said—the opportunity to be part of something monumental.”
Mindio tried to focus, arms crossed tight like that might keep him grounded. “Feels like this is more about what you get outta this than me,” he said, but his voice wavered. The blitz was hitting hard now, buzzing through his veins like electric ants. Energy surged inside him, itching to burst free.
Without warning, his arms shot up, fingers stretching to the ceiling. He blinked, surprised at himself. Couldn’t control it. The blitz had him wired, thoughts bursting like sparks. He tried to play it off, but Grin was watching.
They nodded slowly. “Fair enough. You’re right. I stand to gain a lot. But so do you. Not just in free toxins, but in experiencing something beyond the ordinary. Don’t you ever wonder what’s out there? What truths lie hidden?”
“Every now and then,” Mindio muttered, though he didn’t often wonder. Inside, a voice screamed, “Get outta here!”
Grin said softly, “No tricks, no traps. If at any point you want to stop, we stop.”
Mindio looked around the room. “But what are you talking about? How am I supposed to find those truths you want?”
“The truth is inside of you, my friend. We just need to get it out. And I have the key that we can twist. Look here,” they slinked to the other side of the backroom and came back, fetching a large metal ampule and a syringe. They gestured widely for Mindio to sit down on what had looked to him like an operating table and presented the liquid inside the ampule.
“Right here, I’ve crafted a formula. I call it”—here he paused with a well-acted pace—“The Coil! Upon entering your bloodstream, this compound will give your mind a new pair of eyes, eyes that will see beyond what is hidden. They will see beyond the past and the future, and you will travel all the way to the moment we Bots awakened on the Terminus, and beyond. And when you come back, you will relay to me what you saw.”
Mindio was terrified—terrified by the operating table, terrified by the syringe needle, and most of all, terrified by the rising excitement in Grin’s voice. But part of him thought the fear could be overcome if he just pretended he wasn’t afraid.”
You think this stuff could help me remember the moment the Bots woke up? I’m only thirty-five. This was over ten thousand cycles ago, hell, maybe even more.”
“It was twelve thousand, five hundred, and forty-one cycles ago, Mindio, and no, I don’t expect to test your memory. Your memory’s shite, I know that. The coil isn’t a performance formula, it’s a serum of clairvoyance. It will hit your brain the way nothing else ever did! It’ll open up those scrolls and pump them with fresh new data that was never there to begin with! You’ll rise above the here and now and see all of it—the blockspace of the universe, all rendered into one perceivable whole!”
Grin looked at the dumbfounded Mindio, who still didn’t quite understand.
“Why don’t you search for memories in your own guts?” Mindio didn’t try to be rude; he was genuinely interested at this point.
Grin’s eyes flashed. “I tried,” he said earnestly. “But I couldn’t do it. Our internal systems? Locked up tighter than a miser’s vault—can’t hack them without setting off the failsafes.” They tapped their metal chest repeatedly—clink, clink. “This,” they emphasized, rapping their knuckles on the metal plate, “is off-limits. But you…” Grin leaned in, tapping a finger against Mindio’s sternum. “You have a system that is so accessible.”
Mindio ran a hand through his hair. “Aren’t the older Bots… uh, don’t they got more memories than you?”
“Listen,” Grin’s hand tightened into a fist, their whole frame shaking. “You’ve built your shitty droids at the Sutom, and now you think you understand my kind too? We aren’t factory-made. We’re born through sacrifice. Remnants of the oldest Bots passed their Genos Cage, erasing their life data for the young—giving them a clean slate, free from suffering. An old heart in a new body. What we don’t write down? Gone. No turning back without triggering the failsafe. Something has created us this way. And I’ll burn everything down to find out why. “
“This Coil… you think it’ll really work?” Mindio fumbled, his foot tapping erratically.
Grin chuckled and looked him deep in the eyes. “Oh, it’ll work! I’ve cracked it this time.” They tapped their temple, voice dripping with madness. “This is the one.”
“What’s the risk?” Mindio groaned as Grin pressed him down to the table, firm but almost tender.
“Nothing to worry about!” Grin exclaimed. “A wobble here, a ripple there, nothing you can’t handle! I’ll be monitoring your every step, making sure you’re nice and safe.” Their metal arms settled gently on Mindio’s shoulders with a firm and friendly grip.
Mindio took a deep breath. “Fine, suppose I say yes. What do I gotta do?”
“Just sit right here,” Grin chirped, practically shoving him into the table. “I’ll strap these little beauties to your head, watch your brain do its dance. Then, a nice little vapor hits, and trust me—it’ll smooth everything out, like slipping into a dream.”
Mindio settled in. Grin fixed some small sticky devices to his temples and wrists, and the equipment hummed to life.
“Comfortable?” Grin asked.
“Not really,” Mindio replied.
“Here,” Grin said, handing him another glass of blitz. “This should help too.”
Mindio accepted it gratefully, propping himself up on his elbows, and taking a long sip. “And I can have the whole bottle after this is done, you said?”
“Absolutely,” Grin replied without looking up. “Now, quickly, place this mask over your face and breathe in.”
Mindio eyed the mask. “This the vapor you talked about?”
“That’s right. Just a few hits, and the process will begin.”
He hesitated, but the warm buzz from the blitz nudged him forward. “Okay… uh, yeah… let’s… let’s just get this over with.”
Grin placed the mask over Mindio’s nose and mouth and motioned for him to inhale. The vapor was odorless but carried a slight tingling sensation. After a few breaths, his surroundings began to blur, and then he felt the jab.
“Feeling it yet?” Grin’s voice sounded distant.
“Yeah, I’m feelin’ something. Eyes are stingin’ bad, like they’re full of grit,” Mindio slurred and groaned.
“Excellent! That’s normal. Now, close your eyes and focus on the timeline. I want you to focus on the first cycle. When the first ferry arrived. Don’t think about what you know; think about what you’d like to learn, Mindio, and your new pair of eyes will follow the target.”
Mindio concentrated, and it felt easier than ever. With a phantom sense of a second pair of arms, he rubbed his second pair of eyes, slowly prying open the long-closed lids. A different light flooded in, and for the first time in his life, he began to truly see.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Doomed Star peered from behind the event horizon with the first breath of inscrutable life. The doppler-shifted rays of amethyst
Krell looked through the visor. Something akin to a smile appeared on his face when he finally noticed that thin moving line on the horizon
