7
Click tucked its legs close as it squeezed through a collapsed section of pipe. It wasn’t easy, but it was still the quickest path it had found.
Once through, it gave a little shake and raced off again.
It moved fast, its insectoid legs carrying it swiftly.
Click wasn’t quite as simple as Milo thought it was. So, as it ran, it engaged part of its Machine Intelligence Matrix to a task it considered to be its prime one after Milo’s instructions.
The composition of lines of text which the little golem considered to be important in some way. If not beautiful. The text was entirely in the dwarven language.
Despite the imposition of Milo’s simpler language on its system, it still operated mostly within a sphere of dwarven language. As it swooped down a curving pipe, it considered the latest line of text it had constructed.
Before it could select the best word to end the line, the little golem hit the bottom of the curve and bounced hard.
A little too hard. It had misjudged the steep decline.
It hit its head on the top of the pipe and let out an awkward beep before staggering a few steps and pausing to run a quick scan.
Its gears chittered and chattered as each component was quickly tested for damage.
Happily, it was fine, so it picked itself up and raced onwards.
Slowing only when it heard noises.
Weird noises.
It paused at a small vent to aim its recording crystal through the grille just in case what it saw was important.
As per its programming, what it saw was indeed important and Click was certain Milo would need to know immediately! This vital information had to be recorded quickly.
It angled the crystal carefully, using a series of gears to zoom in on what it was seeing.
A young couple were grinding against each other on the bed. The room looked like it belonged to the girl, judging by the scattered posters and army of pink fluffy cuddly toys.
“Eep!” The pretty young girl squeaked as the taller boy slid his hand up her skirt. She took a deep breath as she pulled her mouth away from his. “Dane! I’m not sure if we should…”
“Come on, Maisie. You know I love you.”
“I do! But what if someone comes in?”
“Who’s gonna come into your room at this time of night?” He chuckled, gently tugging at her panties. She lifted her hips to let him take them down.
“Oh, alright,” she giggled. “But don’t tell Stephan, okay?”
“You know I won’t. You can trust me!”
The little golem pressed up against the grille, making sure it captured everything in ultra high definition.
After a rather vanilla minute and a half, Click let out a soft beep of disappointment and moved on. The recording wasn’t as interesting as it had hoped and it wondered if it should just delete it.
As it raced onwards through the Keep, it replayed the recording over and over, testing its contents against a large set of ancient requirements still engraved into its Machine Intelligence Matrix.
While length of the recording wasn’t a primary concern, it was still concerned by the overall brevity of the action it had captured.
Even the poor girl had looked a little disappointed.
Deciding to delete this recording in hope of finding another to fill the precious space of its Access Memory Crystal, the little golem went back to the more important task of its latest line of text.
All while scurrying towards its destination.
Following a map which was almost as old as the Keep itself, Click eventually found himself looking through an old grille made of dwarven bronze. The grille wasn’t much bigger than him, which wasn’t a coincidence.
This had been an access point for golems such as himself to go in and out of the Keep when performing tasks for their Masters. Click peered through the grille, checking for movement.
On seeing nothing, it rushed to get out.
And hit its head on it.
What?
The grille hadn’t opened like it should have. The golem glanced up and saw the usual hinges were intact. But looking down it saw the problem immediately.
Some nefarious sort had come along and screwed the grille shut.
If it had been able to, Click would have rolled its eyes. Instead, the little golem reached out and began unscrewing the screw. It took a little time. The screw itself wasn’t made of dwarven bronze so it had rusted into the granite.
Someone must have been playing a practical joke, the golem assumed as it tugged the screw loose and tossed it away.
Pushing the grille, it was pleased to see it now opened and Click could finally see what the city looked like. It had a short description and a map of it, but it wasn’t quite the same as actually seeing it for itself.
It scurried through the grille and down the wall. Small grooves in the granite had formed centuries before when other spider golems had followed this exact path, so it was easy to climb down.
At the base of the Keep, Click looked left.
Looked right.
Then scurried into the darkness.
And discovered immediately that the map was useless.
Things had definitely changed. For starters, Click should have emerged into the Red Light District and be surrounded by golem brothels. Instead, the tall pagoda-like buildings were gone. Replaced by shabby looking places which didn’t look very stable.
Tutting to itself, Click raced down an alley. It had to clip the whiskers of a curious rat with its sharp front claws. The rat screeched and darted away.
According to Click’s database, rats shouldn’t be here.
It made a note to notify the Workshop so a report could be sent to the Pest Control Department who should dispatch some golems to come clean out the rodent nests.
Letting out a loud beep, Click was surprised when no other beeps responded.
Where were the other golems?
It was very strange.
Still, it had a mission to complete for its Master so had no time to ponder the mysteries of life.
But plenty of time to ponder the next line in its composition. It considered the rat it had just clipped and thought that was interesting.
Exploring the city turned out to be a mix of frantic scurrying and desperate dodging as Click tried not to be noticed by the humans shuffling this way and that. Sometimes he found them slumped in alleys, leaning against walls. Snoring, mostly.
Other times, they were emerging from places Click discovered were taverns. Click marked those, as its Master might be interested in them. Absently, it rated the taverns by the three prerequisites left by its dwarven programming.
Alcohol content of their main brew.
State of intoxication of current customers.
Number of stains on the floor.
Click made hurried assessments as it passed.
Click also noted every shop it could find, rating the quality of their prices as well as the volume of their wares. With a heavy emphasis on the prices.
And whether these items were discounted.
Beeping to itself, Click ducked under a little stall as a few humans tumbled out of a little tavern. One of them was carrying a mug, which he threw over his shoulder back with a guffaw that sounded like the braying of a donkey.
“Oi!” the barmaid shouted after them. “Don’t you be throwing mugs at me, ya bloody sots!”
The men found that hilarious and swaggered down the street drunkenly.
Click zoomed away.
Finally, it found what it had been sent to find.
Looking around, it saw a vent it could access.
Racing inside, it held its recording crystal high and felt a shiver of pleasure at finally finding what it had been sent to find.
Once done, it raced back outside into the night and back to the Keep without pausing. Its little mind humming along, it scurried into the safety of the ducting and thought he pipes.
While its mind picked at the lines of text it had created tonight.
Not bad, it thought. It teased the last few sentences, rearranging the words a little more.
They had to be special.
And unique.
Like nothing ever put together before.
Click paused at a vent, hearing loud voices below.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stephan! Dane was just returning my book to me. See? Here it is. He borrowed it for Mister Finklestern’s class.”
“Don’t lie, Maisie! I know the two of you have been screwing behind my back!”
“What? How dare you call me some floozy! I’m not that kind of girl!”
“Vern saw him buttoning his pants on the way out!”
“Well, either Vern is lying, or Dane was just adjusting himself. I don’t know, Stephan. You know you’re the only man for me, right? I swear to you. Come on, Stephan. I can’t live without you.”
“Swear it. Swear you didn’t screw him.”
“I swear, Stephan. Blast it, why don’t you believe me? I promise I won’t let him into my room when I’m alone again. Will that make you happy?”
“Hmph.”
“You know, I know one way to prove to you how much I love you…”
“Maisie…”
“Oh, Stephan! Yes! Take me!”
“Oh, Maisie…”
“Oh, Stephan…”
Stephan lasted only forty seconds.
Click beeped in frustration as he raced through the pipes. What a waste of time recording that. He deleted it out. Milo would only want to see the best and most exotic of activities. Not these speedy vanilla sessions.
It had to find something special for its Master.
In the meantime, it hoped the recording it had made in the city would cheer him up.
Humming to itself, the little golem went back to composing poetry.
Witness the flaw of meat,
The delicate brush of fur,
And a flash of whisker in the dark.
Click would have smiled if it had a mouth.
That was nice, it thought.
It would keep that.