The endless pages of knowledge that the adept was tasked to painstakingly translate and transcribe required flawless attention, immaculate accuracy, and the most delicate of hands. Hours, often days, would pass at a time before Morethek found cause to look up from their work.
So it was that the red folds of the adept’s robe did not so much as shuffle when Berlewen returned from her errand with a thud of the great library doors, and came striding down the aisle between shelves, boots sending echoing clicks through the immense room.
Arriving at her assigned place opposite Morethek, Berlewen placed her new texts down on the table across from her fellow scribe. Morethek absently waited for the sound of the adept taking her place, for their work to resume.
The sound did not come. Berlewen continued to stand in barely contained silence above her station. Finally, it was impossible for Morethek not to send a brief glance across the table at her.
Berlewen returned the look from beneath her cowl, her expression contemplative. Morethek’s face was partially obscured by the workings of their implanted eye, but the slow raise of one eyebrow spoke lengths in curiosity from the usually stoic adept.
‘News, sister?’ Morethek asked. One mechanical hand folded a completed text closed, immediately reaching for the next.
Berlewen breathed out, as if steeling herself for what she was to announce.
‘The Fabricator-General has declared for the Warmaster.’
Morethek held the next text in stillness.
‘Possibility for error?’
Berlewen pulled her seat out, and swiftly slipped into it, excitement touching her voice.
‘None. Confirmed accurate.’
There was a moment of silence then, as Morethek attempted to resume their work. Text opened, eyes darting.
Among the most diligently skilled of all Mechanicum adepts, Morethek was not familiar with distraction. It seemed now though that the information before them was blurry, meaningless. Morethek looked up from their work once more.
‘This choice will mean war. This will lead to destruction.’
‘All freedoms are bought with blood, this was inevitable.’
Morethak’s cybernetic implant whirred, searching their companion’s expression.
‘Sister, the Emperor brought us order, and structure and so, so much more. He is absolute, to deny him is nonsensical.’
Berlewen frowned, confused.
‘No… no, you mistake order for control, you’ve been lied to my friend, like so many others. His chains are not hung for us to climb higher on, they are to bind us lower in place. Allowing him and those like him to shit on us from ever greater heights. This war will mean freedom for all of us.’
Morethak placed their hands on the table before them, the meticulous work upon it forgotten.
‘That is purely conjecture, supposition. I do not deal in opinions or conjecture, sister. I deal in knowledge, and knowledge is absolute.’
‘And knowledge is what the Warmaster will bring us! The shackles will be removed, our access to information unseen, the secrets of ages, ours! He will allow us to open the vaults, Morethek.’
‘Knowledge is hidden for a reason, sister, for a multitude of reasons. Until it can be examined appropriately, all facets considered, that kind of power will cause more harm than good.’
‘They gave many reasons that true knowledge was hidden from us, none of them satisfactory,’ Berlewen tapped a metal finger down upon the table, ‘Nothing should be kept from us. Nothing.’
‘Untethered access is chaos,’ Morethak whispered, and Berlewen rolled her eyes.
‘They have their claws into you, again! Chaos is nothing but a word used by those who seek to keep us restrained. It’s fear-mongering. Order is a gilded cage, it may shine but rest assured we are trapped within it nonetheless. Horus will break us free, give us access to everything. True knowledge. True power. Ours to use as we see fit.’
‘That is treason, sister.’
‘No, refusing that call is treason. Obeying an unjust law is, in itself, unjust. Refusing the call to that freedom is inexcusable.’
‘You are speaking in idealism. I took an oath, sister. I took an oath to cherish the information we unearth. To hold such secrets above flesh, above life. To value understanding at any cost.’
‘I took the same oath. It spoke of seeking that knowledge at all costs. To never allow our pursuit to be interrupted. Thus will the totality of our knowledge grow.’
‘The safeguarding of information is a cause I would die for, sister.’
‘And I would kill in the pursuit of it.’
There was silence between the two of them for a moment, as each looked at their fellow adept. After a while, Morethak reached for their text, to continue the painstaking work.
‘We have indulged our debate too long, most enlightened sister.’
‘It is good to share our voice at times, most celebrated colleague, thus is our knowledge shared and our understanding increased.’
‘I honor the Omnissiah in all things.’
‘I honor the Omnissiah in all things.’
Each returned to their task, pages turning, script flowing. Many times in the hours to come, Morethak found the urge to look up from the tireless work at their fellow adept. Each time, they found Berlewen’s gaze staring back.
No comments:
Post a Comment