Taciturn shifts the weight of his backpack.
“Did you get everything from the car?”
Matilda nods, “Yeah – as much as I’m going to miss that hunk of junk, it feels good to walk around a bit.”
Looking back up at the top of the mountain, James lets out a long sigh.
“You say that now, but don’t complain to me when you’re tired.”
Cautiously, they make their way across the drawbridge, imagining what madness awaits them.
Side by side, they enter the outermost fringes of Hank Brown’s dominion, and Matilda is horrified by what she sees. As she steps over puddles that she hopes are just sooty water, Matilda is overwhelmed by the palpable poverty around her. Adults crouch and huddle before their hovels, warily eying their passage. Some beg for coins as the two of them pass by, but most just stare blankly at nothing. The only conspicuous signs of life are the few grubby children who run around, playing in the dirt and climbing over abandoned or broken equipment. Repulsed, Matilda turns to the Taciturn.
“So how does this fit into Hank’s platform? This doesn’t look like it serves any decent purpose to me.”
James shakes his head.
“I’m not entirely sure. Looks like you can… fall back down, here. We saw parts of this Spire moving like that, earlier… maybe it has to do with that. Like rising and falling in the ranks.”
Matilda gestures up to the top of the mountain.
“Yeah, but how do they work their way up?”
James shields his eyes from the sun, squinting to make out Hank’s castle in the distance.
“I’ve been trying to put that together. Hank is all about thinking in the abstract.”
Matilda cracks her knuckles.
“Translation: He’s insane.”
James scans the downtrodden faces of those living in – consigned to – this section of the Spire.
“Alright, I think I’ve got it… maybe. I’m guessing he sees each person as a product. Basically, if this is the platform, all the people are the apps. Each person has value, based on the things they can do for Hank – probably things like specialized skills, services they can perform, things they can create, or something similar. If the value of those things fluctuates, the person is re-ranked upward… or downward. Basically, Hank manipulates them like pieces in a board game – and since they’re in his Spire, of course they have to play by his rules.”
Taciturn pauses, then nods thoughtfully.
“So, these would be the people with very little to offer.”
Outraged, Matilda clenches her fists.
“But people aren’t products. You can’t just ‘rate’ someone, like they’re an object for review!”
James holds up his hands defensively.
“Look, I agree. But that type of thinking doesn’t work here. This place is under Hank’s logic. He believes that everyone has a purpose – nothing but sets of data and skills, used for service. And thus, everyone is rated by their ‘usefulness’.”
Matilda can feel a sickened rage building within her, and the increased need to punch something. A group of dirty children runs past her, and she tries to wrestle the rage down, to keep the anger from her eyes. She starts moving again, further towards the center of the shantytown.
“But that doesn’t take into account everything else that makes someone human. You can’t rate someone solely on talents.”
James matches her stride. “And yet we do it all the time.” He points towards an arch at the other end of the camp. “Look.”
Matilda tracks his gesture with her eyes to a giant archway leading to the next section. Large writing traces the top of the arch: The Journey Starts Here.
Her indignation gets the better of her. “Oooh, great – another sign, another load of cryptic bullshit. You know, I’m getting the feeling this Hank guy isn’t as creative as he apparently wants everyone else to be.”
She pauses as she notices something strange.
The area nearest the entrance is completely deserted, save the presence of the Taciturn and herself. She turns around to examine the faces of the Spire denizens they’ve already passed. Few acknowledge them, and no one has made a move any closer to the archway.
“If these people are able to retry their ascent – why don’t they? It can’t be worse than staying here.”
James looks back at the squalor they have just traversed.
“Fear. When you start something and fail, it’s frustrating. It’s demoralizing. If you fail something in front of countless others, the social stigma alone can be enough to keep you from trying again. Disappointment and bitterness can take over. Not everyone has the fortitude to get back up after they’ve been kicked down enough times.”
Matilda stares up at the ominous mountaintop keep above them. Squinting her eyes, “So where does that leave us?”
James moves next to her.
“Hank has the key. He’s at the top. So, I think the plan is work our way upward.”
Matilda nods, still trying to focus on the castle high up in the clouds.
“Yeah, sure – but I’m asking, what’s the actual ‘path to the top’ for us in this shithole? We need to figure out how two new products can hit the market, without getting lost in the shuffle.”
James scratches his beard.
“I’m sure we’ll figure that out.”
Matilda cracks her back. “Are you ready for this?”
James nods in the direction of the gateway. “Yeah, totally.”
Matilda doesn’t move. “Are you sure?”
James gives her a perplexed look.
Matilda motions around the slums. “I mean, you knew this guy like you knew Virginia, right? Are you ready to do what we did again?”
James shifts his backpack to his other shoulder. “To be honest, I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. Hank might be crazy, but part of me hopes we can just convince him to give us the key.”
Matilda’s offers a tight smile, clearly forced. “Okay. You know the guy.”
She lags behind him as they head to the archway, grimly mulling the notion of mercy to someone who could create a realm like this. How is this not, in its own way, just as bad as Neverland, if not worse? All Matilda can think about is killing this Hank Brown in his lofty castle, and setting this place free.
Dwelling on these dark thoughts, she follows James through the archway and into the first test of the Spire.
With a grunt, James hauls himself over another cliff face. He’s lost count of how many they’ve climbed since leaving the sprawling slums below. He stands up to find Matilda’s hand stretched down to him from the next-highest ledge. Grasping her hand, he clutches and scrabbles at the cliff-face as the Scry helps him upward. With a groan, James finally rolls his weight over the ledge onto his back, raises himself up on his elbows, and looks back down. The area outside the pit was a literal mountain-climb. Feeling the sweat drip down his forehead, James is beginning to agree with Matilda on the subject of Hank’s fundamental lack of creative vision.
Transfixed by the view from this high up, James takes a moment to collect himself and let his beating heart slow down. Next to him, Matilda kicks a rock off the ledge. James chuckles between intakes of breath.
“Well… I guess there’s… no turning back now.”
Matilda shrugs. “At least it doesn’t smell like garbage anymore.”
Matilda’s observation encourages James to breathe as deeply as he can. The mountain air is refreshing, heavy with the strong presence of pine. Finally standing up, James surveys his surroundings. The plateau quickly transitions into dense forest that stretches forward for miles.