Chapter 5: Uncanny Valley...
The lower set of my walk-in's blanket-shelves had swung out as a door.
"Go left." Pete directed, "I'll close."
I ducked through into a narrow passage minimally lit by a red LED pencil-torch on the floor. Behind me, Pete closed the shelves, began to re-fit a thick wall panel, "Go ahead, wait at the stairs. Mind the high step."
I crept forwards in total darkness, came to a right turn into a narrower section, sidled through. Another dozen feet found a high threshold. I eased out, felt my way out onto precipitous stone spiral stairs. A well-worn Medieval 'vice', it had irregular, dished steps and no hand-rail.
"Go up a few steps..." Pete followed me out. He closed the hatch on our passage, led the way down. Given Pete's fire-fly of a torch, we were climbing mostly by feel. I noticed four narrow recesses, three small hatches and two bricked-up slits, probably missed several more. After an odd step, like a repair, we reached a more irregular section with a different pitch. Given the distance, I felt we'd gone underground.
Another turn and a half, then the stygnian spiral ended at a small, iron-bound postern door. Pete tapped on the frame with his talon nubs. Bolts slid, the door creaked open on another Gollum cousin. Pete handed me through into the dim, barrel-vaulted corridor, followed, adding, "Thanks, Mick !"
The gate-keeper nodded politely, hesitated, sniffed, glared at me,"Hey ! You stink of Sap !"
"Sure he does." Pete chuckled, "Uncle Brendan's testing a new disguise. Don't worry, Charlie and Ma checked him out."
"D'uh..."
"Now, Mick, where's your manners ?"
"Sorry, Uncle Pete... Sorry, Uncle Brendan..."
"That's better, Mick. When are you off duty ?"
"Nine ? No, ten !"
"Well, come along to the Hall after. We'll still be there."
"Wow, thanks, Uncle Pete !" Mick almost danced as he closed the bolts behind us.
We'd turned two corners, stepped down into a wider, taller passage, before Pete spoke again, "Some Nests, litters still eat their Runts..."
A dozen yards on, crowd noises drifted from an arched doorway. Pete pushed open the double doors. I blinked. It was a typical, cheerful club-room, with an assortment of coffee tables and seating. There were at least forty Vampires sat or stood. They ranged from Juveniles to Elders, of both sexes. A few sat alone or with papers, most were gossiping in the usual human way. Pete eased me in. We drew glances, but no concern. After all, this was their home...
Then the nearest sniffed, glanced at us, looked between us in confusion. His partner turned. She looked us over, hesitated, stepped back. Her uncertain movement drew others' notice. A ripple of silence rolled out across the room. Forty-something pairs of puzzled blood-red eyes locked upon mine. I looked around calmly, picked out a familiar face. The month had worked wonders on his body, too, "Hello, Monty !"
"Blood and Sand !" Monty exploded. He strode through the shocked crowd, hugged me off my feet, "I would not have believed it-- I did not expect THIS-- Look at you !!"
He shivered, turned, raised a hand, called, "Be It Known: Chris, travelling as Brendan, is my BloodKin !"
The gasps told me much, the rude exclamations told me more. A tall Vampire stood, made the range of opinions clear, "So this is your Pet Sap, Monty ? That stay in their world has Bent your mind !"
"Chris is no Pet, Frank: He is RogueBane."
Some looked interested, others were alarmed, most puzzled.
Frank was un-impressed, "Ha ? So your Pet catches Fledgelings ?"
Monty turned to me, "Chris, how many Rogues, now ?"
"As of last week... ? " I grinned, "Fourteen."
Frank froze. Suddenly, there was movement, the crowd opening space between us, and behind him to the wall. It was so like an old Western, it made me grin again. My loin-cloth scarcely had space for an invite, so I wondered what they feared. It didn't matter.
"You are Hee-EE ?" Frank's voice cracked, he gulped, "I-- I thought you would be taller..."
"I've been ill."
"That terrible business in Africa..." Monty kindly explained.
"The Haemorragic Fever ?" A Caucasian Vampire, Frank could not be any paler, but he did the next best-- He shivered. His mouth worked. He licked his lips. He drew a careful breath, then a second.
Finally, he felt he could trust himself to speak, "Chris, travelling as Brendan, BloodKin of Montague, please forgive my unkind words. I-- I let prejudice rule my speech."
"Apologies accepted." I nodded, grinned, "Hey, your opinions are mild compared to those of the wider HomoSap community: Many would cheerfully Stake me for this !"
That earned cautious nods, and a few chuckles.
I turned to Monty, "Is it your custom to shake hands on a settlement ?"
"Our mores are different: There is a Clasp of Companionship."
Monty turned to Frank, lifted an open hand. Frank stiffened, nodded reluctantly, stepped forwards. They met as if about to arm-wrestle, then stepped apart. Frank turned to me. I matched Monty's stance. Frank went for a knuckle-crusher, but I'd tensed my hand. He seemed surprised. He eased back to 'firm', gave me a closer look. I watched his eyes search mine, search my mask's features.
Frank disengaged, stepped back, "Chris, travelling as Brendan, your disguise is artful... May I touch your face ?"
I hesitated a bare instant, nodded once. Frank reached s_l_o_w_l_y. He ran a talon nub down my left 'cheekbone', then further, across my neck to the 'carotid'. He stopped there for longer than I liked. He moved out across my shoulder, traced the 'muscle groups', drifted down my arm and onto my hand...
Frank shuddered, stepped back, "How is this done ?"
"I don't know." I shrugged, added, "Perhaps a tattoo process guided by software ?"
Frank shuddered again, "Your likeness is imperfect-- Yet it is TOO perfect ! You appear un-natural..."
"Ah..." I had a thought, " 'Uncanny Valley' ? Person / Non-Person recognition is ambiguous."
He took time to think that through, nodded slowly, "Yes... Most disconcerting..."
"I'm sorry."
"No." Frank stated, "Again, you have held a mirror to my soul: What I see is coloured by my ghosts..."
I had the sense to keep my mouth shut.
Frank gathered himself, "Chris, Monty ? Would you dine at my table tonight ? We have much to discuss..."
Suddenly, the room was full of grins and smiles. Monty clapped me across the shoulders, "Come, Chris ! Frank and I have tales that would curl your fangs !"
The lower set of my walk-in's blanket-shelves had swung out as a door.
"Go left." Pete directed, "I'll close."
I ducked through into a narrow passage minimally lit by a red LED pencil-torch on the floor. Behind me, Pete closed the shelves, began to re-fit a thick wall panel, "Go ahead, wait at the stairs. Mind the high step."
I crept forwards in total darkness, came to a right turn into a narrower section, sidled through. Another dozen feet found a high threshold. I eased out, felt my way out onto precipitous stone spiral stairs. A well-worn Medieval 'vice', it had irregular, dished steps and no hand-rail.
"Go up a few steps..." Pete followed me out. He closed the hatch on our passage, led the way down. Given Pete's fire-fly of a torch, we were climbing mostly by feel. I noticed four narrow recesses, three small hatches and two bricked-up slits, probably missed several more. After an odd step, like a repair, we reached a more irregular section with a different pitch. Given the distance, I felt we'd gone underground.
Another turn and a half, then the stygnian spiral ended at a small, iron-bound postern door. Pete tapped on the frame with his talon nubs. Bolts slid, the door creaked open on another Gollum cousin. Pete handed me through into the dim, barrel-vaulted corridor, followed, adding, "Thanks, Mick !"
The gate-keeper nodded politely, hesitated, sniffed, glared at me,"Hey ! You stink of Sap !"
"Sure he does." Pete chuckled, "Uncle Brendan's testing a new disguise. Don't worry, Charlie and Ma checked him out."
"D'uh..."
"Now, Mick, where's your manners ?"
"Sorry, Uncle Pete... Sorry, Uncle Brendan..."
"That's better, Mick. When are you off duty ?"
"Nine ? No, ten !"
"Well, come along to the Hall after. We'll still be there."
"Wow, thanks, Uncle Pete !" Mick almost danced as he closed the bolts behind us.
We'd turned two corners, stepped down into a wider, taller passage, before Pete spoke again, "Some Nests, litters still eat their Runts..."
A dozen yards on, crowd noises drifted from an arched doorway. Pete pushed open the double doors. I blinked. It was a typical, cheerful club-room, with an assortment of coffee tables and seating. There were at least forty Vampires sat or stood. They ranged from Juveniles to Elders, of both sexes. A few sat alone or with papers, most were gossiping in the usual human way. Pete eased me in. We drew glances, but no concern. After all, this was their home...
Then the nearest sniffed, glanced at us, looked between us in confusion. His partner turned. She looked us over, hesitated, stepped back. Her uncertain movement drew others' notice. A ripple of silence rolled out across the room. Forty-something pairs of puzzled blood-red eyes locked upon mine. I looked around calmly, picked out a familiar face. The month had worked wonders on his body, too, "Hello, Monty !"
"Blood and Sand !" Monty exploded. He strode through the shocked crowd, hugged me off my feet, "I would not have believed it-- I did not expect THIS-- Look at you !!"
He shivered, turned, raised a hand, called, "Be It Known: Chris, travelling as Brendan, is my BloodKin !"
The gasps told me much, the rude exclamations told me more. A tall Vampire stood, made the range of opinions clear, "So this is your Pet Sap, Monty ? That stay in their world has Bent your mind !"
"Chris is no Pet, Frank: He is RogueBane."
Some looked interested, others were alarmed, most puzzled.
Frank was un-impressed, "Ha ? So your Pet catches Fledgelings ?"
Monty turned to me, "Chris, how many Rogues, now ?"
"As of last week... ? " I grinned, "Fourteen."
Frank froze. Suddenly, there was movement, the crowd opening space between us, and behind him to the wall. It was so like an old Western, it made me grin again. My loin-cloth scarcely had space for an invite, so I wondered what they feared. It didn't matter.
"You are Hee-EE ?" Frank's voice cracked, he gulped, "I-- I thought you would be taller..."
"I've been ill."
"That terrible business in Africa..." Monty kindly explained.
"The Haemorragic Fever ?" A Caucasian Vampire, Frank could not be any paler, but he did the next best-- He shivered. His mouth worked. He licked his lips. He drew a careful breath, then a second.
Finally, he felt he could trust himself to speak, "Chris, travelling as Brendan, BloodKin of Montague, please forgive my unkind words. I-- I let prejudice rule my speech."
"Apologies accepted." I nodded, grinned, "Hey, your opinions are mild compared to those of the wider HomoSap community: Many would cheerfully Stake me for this !"
That earned cautious nods, and a few chuckles.
I turned to Monty, "Is it your custom to shake hands on a settlement ?"
"Our mores are different: There is a Clasp of Companionship."
Monty turned to Frank, lifted an open hand. Frank stiffened, nodded reluctantly, stepped forwards. They met as if about to arm-wrestle, then stepped apart. Frank turned to me. I matched Monty's stance. Frank went for a knuckle-crusher, but I'd tensed my hand. He seemed surprised. He eased back to 'firm', gave me a closer look. I watched his eyes search mine, search my mask's features.
Frank disengaged, stepped back, "Chris, travelling as Brendan, your disguise is artful... May I touch your face ?"
I hesitated a bare instant, nodded once. Frank reached s_l_o_w_l_y. He ran a talon nub down my left 'cheekbone', then further, across my neck to the 'carotid'. He stopped there for longer than I liked. He moved out across my shoulder, traced the 'muscle groups', drifted down my arm and onto my hand...
Frank shuddered, stepped back, "How is this done ?"
"I don't know." I shrugged, added, "Perhaps a tattoo process guided by software ?"
Frank shuddered again, "Your likeness is imperfect-- Yet it is TOO perfect ! You appear un-natural..."
"Ah..." I had a thought, " 'Uncanny Valley' ? Person / Non-Person recognition is ambiguous."
He took time to think that through, nodded slowly, "Yes... Most disconcerting..."
"I'm sorry."
"No." Frank stated, "Again, you have held a mirror to my soul: What I see is coloured by my ghosts..."
I had the sense to keep my mouth shut.
Frank gathered himself, "Chris, Monty ? Would you dine at my table tonight ? We have much to discuss..."
Suddenly, the room was full of grins and smiles. Monty clapped me across the shoulders, "Come, Chris ! Frank and I have tales that would curl your fangs !"
