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He woke up bound to a tree, his arm chained above him.
Where was he? One second, he was on his ship, the next he was—nowhere. Surrounded by a darkness so absolute that even the brightest stars could not break. Chained, but chained to nothing.
Then he heard a sound.
He turned his and there she was. Hadn’t he just seen her a minute ago? What was she still doing here with him? Hadn’t he gotten rid of her? No, she had done something, something to his head...
How long had he been out?
Fear gripped him as he realized what he was hearing. Bricks. One laid on top of the other, slowly, rhythmically, slicing the perfect darkness. Where they touched, they fused together, a perfectly smooth, white surface, no blemishes, no marks whatsoever. Higher and higher and higher, all around him. Creating isolation from nothing.
He was cut off from the universe. He was trapped.
“Blayde, what are you doing?” he asked, trying with every inch of his being to jump, to move, to get away. He closed his eyes, searched for his intangible connection to the universe. But there was nothing there, only more darkness behind his eyelids. “What have you done to me?”
“Don’t squirm like that, Nimien. You’ll just get tired.”
Clack. Another brick. His entire being shuddered as he realized what was happening. What she was doing. What the wall meant. Another piece of his prison coming into place.
“Stop it! You’re going to—”
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said. And she was being truthful. He had learned how to tell when she was lying. There were entire books devoted to understanding her personal tricks. “But this is for the best. Believe me. Trust me.”
“What is? Locking me up?” he spat. “How would that be for the best? I was collecting information, Blayde. Sharing it. There was nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re burning up inside. Can’t you feel it? No, I guess you wouldn’t. But trust me; this is the way it happens. For the best.”
“You’re making my prison.”
“I’m building you a future. One where you are more powerful than anyone I have ever met. One where people will know your name and share it through the stars. One where you can be happy.”
“How is this going to make me happy and powerful?” He pulled at his chain. Where was the other end? “And how are you stopping me from jumping? How are you doing that?”
“Something I learned from you, actually. It’s hard to explain. But simply put... we’re at the right place.”
“You’re building me a cell.”
“I am.” She nodded. “But it’s for the best.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because you told me.” She turned away: She wasn’t crying, was she? The great Blayde, crying. Why didn’t he want to mock her? He would have. But for some reason, the words stuck in his throat. Was it pity? No, it couldn’t be pity; how could anyone pity a being like her? She was ruthless. She deserved no pity. He thought briefly about what brilliant insults from that long list he had written over all those years would be the most effective: Instead, he waited for her to gather her wits, rising to his feet in the square patch of nothingness with his patented smile he was so proud of.
“I’m just closing the cycle,” she said, as she put another brick down. “And while we’re here, let’s talk a little about your affinity for AI.”
