The|MULTIVERSE

EPISODE 38: Trial by Misfire

If this waiting hall was the intermission to heaven, then the multiversers were dead since first landing. The only thing this white chamber of streaming light lacked was elevator music; those soothing little tunes that belong in a shopping mall, or perhaps melodies like that were universal in use.

No matter, Zolas Might, as high and stalwart as it was, owned elevators—minus the generic beats.

Ricven enjoyed those through his ears.

Whilst the minds of his crew ran all over this room, Ricven idled on the couch with the most laid-back expression to ever plaster his face, it wasn't entirely complacent, contented, smug-less, and while his attention served no true focus, his mind was elsewhere, riding the tunes that capped his ears thanks to this nifty pocket media player called the iBean gifted to him from Chip. And it was worth it. They were enduring a long wait and it started to give them the feeling that they were idling in suspense for a test result in an infirmary that was sicker than they were healthy.

And if that confused you—remember their mission.

"So much energy..." Chip's eyes cruised the etchings of light that claimed the place like a geometric network crafting all kinds of squares along its floor, walls, and ceiling. The chamber knew not a tittle of dirt, extra clean; SQUEAKY clean; and its perfection of detail stunned her big green eyes as she felt stuck in an abstract art museum—the room was the art. "Streamlining the whole palace. Perfect convergence... So neat!"

"It is absolutely brilliant," Aethenius agreed. His own fancy of the chiseled light complemented with that little plant-life added color to the interior palette, gave him a welcoming sense of simplistic minimalism he couldn't overlook. "Perhaps this is how the afterlife looks. Short of instruments."

Ricven laughed, having toned down the volume to a musical speck. The mystic magi made this place seem a bit too majestic for its own oversimplified good. It wasn't all of that to Ricven.

"Why the laugh?" Cornelius dared to ask. "Vekta's technological innovations are truly progressive."

Ricven twitched one rusty brow. "Sure. How avant-garde of them. Nothing we've haven't seen before."

Fae hummed. "It can get really redundant."

"But on the other hand appreciative," Cornelius pinned on. Too many worlds shared similar architectural tastes. Where they had differed were based on the inhabitant's stylization suiting their cultural focus. "I would like to acquire some records of their expertise if possible. Their knowledge of science can benefit Cruxhaven."

"Ah, kill the cat with your curiosity you will," Ricven called it like it was. "Your damn yen for knowledge is gonna get us fucked up in here. We've been screwed thoroughly in scrutiny the whole way in. The guards outside are still itching to get in on us. See how the big one looked?"

Fae giggled. "Not the first time another man had their eyes on you."

"And they all learned the hard way."

"They were only serving their superior," Cornelius said, empathizing; like usual when Ricven attempted to turn a molehill into a mountain. "Their suspicions were only...as one would say...protocol."

Ricven ran his eyes all over the place. "Okay. And I won't be surprised if somewhere in here we're being watched...and recorded."

"I'd know if we were watched," Chip quickly assured. "My envigilator still functions. See?"

With a simple lift of her hand, the basketball-sized mechanical eyeball flickered to existence, guaranteeing their privacy went without breach. "It's been running a deep scan since we've first stepped foot into the tower. And boy has it discovered some things."