NetherWorld by Daniel Pagan (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📕

his dimensional journey. The closer he got to the vacuum, the calmer he became. Nick found it funny, that in the face of certain death, acceptance was cathartic. Many of the mundane burdens seemed meaningless. Only at this time can a person truly weigh the relevance of concerns. It would have been amazing to make history in two universes.
Three more helpless Bytes were in front of Nick. Once they were whisked away and shredded, Nick would face the vacuum. Byte after Byte was imploded like a crushed soda can and then dispersed into a Silicate salad. Thrasher scooped up shreds with an arm that erupted from him asymmetrical sphere. The blue spaghetti coated in yellow fluid hung in long sinuous strands before he shoved them into his mouth. Yellow fluid driped from his maw as he made sickening sounds of perverse pleasure.
Brown fluid flowed from the Minion workstation. As the pool began to crest near the lip, he pulled a large lever on the wall. A loud flushing sound preceded the great whirlpool. Brown bile began to swirl clockwise, accelerating near the center. The whirlpool spat off small bits of Silicate death into the room. Seconds later, the entire pool was flushed. The waste sank into the Subsuction zone where it would decompose and drip into darkness.
One more Byte to go and Nick would face his demise at the hands of Thrashers powerful machine. He had reached an inner peace as the final Byte was inhaled into the Shredder. The Pixals moved Nick into position. The vacuum already began pulling his long hair into the air. The machine pulled his face upward with tornadic force. He did not stand a chance against the vacuum. The spiders were making their final maneuvers before they scattered, leaving Nick to face his fate exposed and alone.


Chapter 18
SubRoots

Book of TranFor:

That which lies under either supports or contributes to the collapse.

The SubRoots were an ancient attempt to improve Silicate transit within the Walled City. This elaborate series of tunnels was the handiwork of Data Miners. They were the excavators of NetherWorld. Deep within the base code of Data Miners were protocols that made these creatures relentless diggers. Once they started drilling, these Bytes were nearly impossible to stop.
At one point the Streams and Walkways of the Walled City became too crowded; creating traffics jams and Byte bumpings. This inefficiency interrupted the smooth flow of data. With Bytes bouncing all over the jabaways, many ended up at the wrong destination.
After far too many incidents of Stream Rage, something had to be done. Normally docile Silicates were ripping out each other’s tubes because someone forgot to yield to the right. Every major intersection resembled a wrestling Battle Royal. In fact, the Calculations were born from these events. Some savvy promoters decided that this was great entertainment under the right conditions.
The High Council decided to develop an underground system of mass transit to absorb the increased traffic flow. Data Miners were the only Silicates equipped to handle this project. This Big Dig was fraught with problems from the very beginning.
The Miners were apparently too aggressive in their effort to carve out the SubRoots. Some of the buildings in downtown NetherWorld collapsed once critical supports were compromised by the rabid Miners. It became obvious that NetherWorld did not have the foundation to support tunneled transportation. Scrambling to mitigate the political fallout from this misguided undertaking, the High Council created a story to divert the blame somewhere else.
Blaming the architecture, the Servers called for a new version to replace the faulty Bytes who constructed the shoddy buildings. Blue Guard Bytes rounded up all of the current architectural Silicates and sent them to the Bin for a good Thrashing. By selling this story, the High Council escaped widespread Silicate wrath.
A few blocks were badly damaged by the Dig. Buildings were tilted at odd angles, causing them to lean over the streams. The occasional quake collapsed a few them, deleting scores of Bytes in mid-stream. Eventually, the Servers condemned the most dilapidated blocks. Over time, these blocks became known as the Silicate Slums. They became the domain of outcast Bytes, such as the Unclean and other unsavory characters.
Before long, the Silicate Syndicte, the dominant mob of the Walled City, assumed control of the entire sector. Reports of shakedowns and Byte battery were common for the area. Very little effort was made to police the sector. Scores of Silicates had to be relocated to nearby Sectors for their own safety.
To avert any future problems, the SubRoots were shut down. The Blue Guard helped to round up the busy little diggers and mitigate the SubNetheran threat. Most of the Miners were sent to the Bin for mass slaughter. Very few escaped this extermination.
Merry and Prank joined up with the Randoms of HateAsh to escape this Miner cleansing. No one paid much attention to this group because they were a wacked out bunch of idealist. This made the perfect hiding place for the duo. In time, they too embraced the philosophies espoused by the Randoms.
In the wake of these unfortunate events, NetherWorld was left with a series of tunnels that could still be used for clandestine operations. The High Council believed that the SubRoots might come in handy sometime in the future. A detail mapping was recorded for any future missions requiring SubNetheran travel.
Over the cycles, most of the Silicates forgot about the tunnels. Without the Data Miners to maintain the tunnels, the SubRoots fell into disrepair. Many routes were blocked by cave ins and other structural perils. Only the High Council and the Blue Guard were aware of the full extent of the tunnels.
Whizzy, Merry and Prank had one of the only remaining maps of the SubRoots. There were still a couple house in the Nexus, but no one bothered to keep track of where they were.
“Hurry! We’ve no time to waste. The holo-map says we have to go under the Silver Forest to get to the Bin. Let’s go!” urged Whizzy wobbling down the SubRoot shaft leading to the main tunnels. The dingy walls were only illuminated by their glowing visors.
“Must rush. Must Mush,” echoed the Miners. They moved out in front to drill through any debris. As they entered in the main area of the tunnel, the shaft behind them collapsed, sending crumbles of silicate rolling towards them. One particularly large boulder knocker Whizzy right off his plungers.
“Help! Back here Merry! I’ve heen bit by a shoulder.” Although Merry and Prank could not make out exactly what Whizzy meant, they rushed to his aid.
“Thanks. I think I’m otay. Let’s move on, but nick close to be please,” asked Whizzy and he continued along the tunnel that was directly under the Silver Forest.
As they approached the area under the forest, they heard a series of odd sounds. First they heard “plop, drop, plop” sounds. Following the “drop plops” was a “hiss” sound. The closer they got to the forest, the more frequent this series of sounds became. By the time they reached the area, the sounds cycled so fast, it was musical.
“What are those sounds?” asked Whizzy.
“Plop, plop, hiss, hiss” Merry and Prank offered. They exchanged curious looks and shrugged their arm like appendages.
“Well whatever it piss, it doesn’t sound good.”
Soon they were in range of the strange sounds. Focusing their visors toward the source of the sounds; what they saw was most curious. Dark liquid dripped from the forest above. When it hit the tunnel floor, the acidic matter burned holes. Whizzy and his Miners approached one of these holes with more than a modicum of caution. Gently guiding their plungers to the precipice of a particularly large hole, they guided their visors down the hole.
“What’s down there?” Whizzy asked.
“Dark. Very dark.” Said the Miners.
“I get that. Let’s see. Hand me some of that rubble over there,” ordered Whizzy as he pointed his clawed hand toward a collapsed area. Merry gather a few pieces for Whizzy. He proceeded to drop the rubble down the hole. Many ticks tocked and no sound ensued from the falling matter. They could have waited cycles and they would never have heard a sound. To the best of their observation, it was a hole without a bottom. Pure nothing. A nothing that was quite possibly infinite in scope. They decided that it was better to avoid these holes as they traversed the tunnels.
“Careful guys. These black holes must be avoided. Let’s step around this mess and get to the Bin,” said Whizzy. Merry and Prank made it a point to move away from the ever increasing series of holes. It became quite challenging as they delved deeper under the forest. Acid rained in the tunnels holes, leaving little room to safely navigate towards the Bin.
Flat black shapes seeped out of these bottomless holes. The amoebic shapes wiggled their way up to the surface of NetherWorld. Whizzy and his duo decided it best to avoid anything that came from the holes.
Merry and Prank dug through some of the clogged areas to get through. Whizzy was really glad they agreed to help him. Without their help, he would have probably fallen in the abyss carved out by the acid drippings.

“Blibble Bibble blurpy burp!” said someone out of sight. It was an unitellible, but nonetheless eerie series of words that made them stop and look around.
“What was that?” Whizzy asked the Data Miners.
“Beserks!” said Merry
“Yes. Beserks!” agreed Prank.
“What do we do?” asked Whizzy.
“Run Whizzy!” shouted Merry.
“Yes! Run fast Whizzy!” chimed Prank.
Whizzy plunged as fast as he could down the closest tunnel. His visor lit the way in the otherwise pitch black tunnel. Merry and Prank trailed behind.
“Glibble tibble gabble babble,” said the group of Beserks as they followed Merry and Prank. These were the undead of NetherWorld, creatures long past expiration, somehow clinging to a haggard existence in the darkness of the SubRoots. They were known to gang up on any unsuspecting Silicates crazy enough to stroll in these long abandoned tunnels.
No one has ever lived after falling prey to the Berserks. Driven mad by missing Downtime, they roamed the streets spouting babble until the Batchers rounded them up for the Bin. The babble is actually a unique language called Jabber. Each word encompasses a collection of thoughts. One sentence contains information equivalent to an unabridged dictionary. No Silicate other than fellow Beserks can process thoughts that quickly. Any Karbon would be left in the dust.
The lack of downtime heats up their core, which makes everything go faster. They begin to process data at higher and higher speeds. At first, this is an amazing rush for the Beserk. Once a certain speed limit is breached the process becomes uncontrollable. The can communicate with each other quite well. Over course, a few sentences encompasses years of conversation and normal speed.
The heat expands the Beserks’