Knowledge Transfer Failure

Definitive reptilian quintessence replete with scaly yellow skin, stringy white hair, and dark cerise eyes, the three ancient Elders watch intently as Malcolm, their most highly anointed Facilitator, hobbles meekly into their dark chambers. Ceilings in the palatial domicile are so high they can’t be seen, and the place perpetually reeks of putrid blood, human filths, and what can only be described as urine-soaked baby powder.

Malcolm, known for his incredibly strong physique, is in terrible shape. He looks, and feels, like a train ran over him but by conviction, he refuses pain meds. Malcolm believes real pain should be valued and if you asked him why, his answer would be “the right tool for the right job”. He walks with a crutch because his ankle is broken as is one of his wrists. He also has broken ribs and bruises all over his face. He wears an expensive custom-tailored suit and his trademark black suede leather gloves which some claim are made from human skin.

He puts on his dark yellow tinted glasses. They make his eyes look deep purple, but he can’t see in the dim light without them. Malcolm's eyes were damaged years ago, when he was young and careless, in a botched attempt to enhance his eyesight using archaic potions. The procedure did allow him to see at night but only with the special dark yellow glasses and at the cost of speedy retinal deterioration. He’ll be completely blind before he's 50, unless he can find a perfect blood match from a living person who’s willing to give him their eyes. Getting someone to give up their eyes is Malcolm’s specialty, but the problem is Malcolm has very rare “golden blood”, Rh-null.  He limps into the chambers, the doors close silently behind him.

At the large primeval desk, the Elders whisper and snigger into each other’s protracted lepidote ears about the state of Malcolm. They speak in their native language, which they only do when they are extremely angry, or frightened. Malcolm suspects it is because of fear this time. The nameless thing up in the dark corners of the ceiling that the Elders never acknowledge flaps around less quietly than usual, dripping its black goo that evaporates into wispy vapors before reaching the floor.

“Facilitator, tell us what happened,” the Spokesman says in a raspy voice, “how you came to be so… damaged.”

Malcolm is nervous tonight, and he knows why. The Elders are not going to like his report, “Something dreadful is happening,” he begins, “a formidable, daunting, threat is felt… not just by me, but throughout!” he stresses, “My Captains, we are beginning to lose control of—”

“SILENCE!” Malcolm is abruptly interrupted by the Elder referred to as Jade, "Be SILENT AND KNEEL!".

Malcolm kneels as best he can. Jade’s anger has morphed him temporarily into his true anthropomorphic form. Malcolm has seen some of the Elders transform before, but never this hideously. A thick horror and dread instantly permeate his every cell. He can practically taste the evil in the room. He makes a mental note that this is truly the most horrible moment he has ever felt and witnessed. He wants to remember every abominable detail of Jade involuntarily revealing his snake-like demonic appearance. Malcolm treasures such gruesome moments, knowing how handy they can be in other circumstances.  But at

this moment, he’s not sure if he will survive the next hour.

“We have no interest in your puisne explanations…!” Jade shouts as he settles back into his usual appearance, “You fatuously picayune mongrel!”

The Spokesman jeers at Malcolm then chuckling, he says to him, “He means blockhead! He is calling you a blockhead.” The Spokesman then says to Jade, “You mean, Blockhead, don’t you, brother? You’re using words with too much meaning. Don’t confuse the fatuous mongrel.” They both snigger again. Then back to Malcolm, “Facilitator, tell us exactly what happened. Do not attempt to explain anything to us, simply tell us. Start from the start.”

Malcolm stands, shuffles to find a comfortable enough stance, then begins his story…

“Okay,” he begins, “everything was in place. I’ve done many Knowledge Transfers. You know this. And I know how important the knowledge we’ll gain from this transfer is to our initiatives. This one should have been exemplary.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” The Spokesman says.

“No. Not at all. Like I said…” Malcolm almost opined again but caught himself, stood

silently.

“I understand the Offering was not from our usual vetted sources. Is this true?” The

Spokesman asks.

“The Offering was from me, from a family who wronged us, Captain.”

The Elders snigger in their native language amongst themselves again. Malcolm senses fear.  “Where did you get the Offering?” The Spokesman asks, angrily.

“I had the young boy kidnapped from his family. We needed an Offering. My intention was to make an example of him. 

“Your intention? You? You decided this?” the Spokesman asks incredulously.

“Outrageous!” Jade says just loud enough for Malcolm to hear.

Malcolm attempts to hold eye-contact with the Spokesman. Disgraced, he is unable, looks to his feet and says almost with shame, “I was out of line. I thought I could kill two birds with one stone… so to speak.”

The Spokesman stares at Malcolm silently, waiting for him to look up again. Malcolm struggles but finally raises his eyes to meet the red eyes of the Spokesman who says, “How did such impudence work out for you?”

Malcolm takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh, “Not well,” he hesitates before continuing, “the boy’s grandmother – and I was not made aware of this until after the fact --

but she is a very fervent Believer. Unbreakable in her faith. Very strong prayer history.”  “A saint?” the Spokesman clarifies, “you took the grandchild from the home of a Saint?”

“Had I known, I…” Malcolm stands silent. 

“Continue,” The Spokesman demands.

“The grandmother and her church of filthy Believers prayed incessantly for the boy. They prayed from the moment they learned the boy was taken until the moment the boy was returned to his home. And, well…” Malcolm really does not want to continue any further. He is afraid how the Elders will react. He hesitates. The Elders wait for him to continue.

Finally, Malcolm tells them point blank, “They’re prayers were answered.”

Jade loses it and becomes the lizard demon again for a couple of seconds. The Spokesman vibrates like a cell phone in his chair. The third Elder sits stone-quiet and still as a gravestone but anyone within a foot of him would feel the immense heat radiating from his aggravated presence. The three Elders compose themselves and snigger for a few minutes. What they are planning next is unknown and worrisome to Malcolm. He has never felt this vulnerable in their presence before. He notes to himself to never be in this position again.

“How exactly were their prayers answered?” the Spokesman finally asks.

“Just as we were about to make the exchange… three men… I’m positive they were

EliYahuian…”

All three Elders react to hearing this. Malcolm continues, “They kicked down the door and stomped right in.  A hive of nasties with them.” 

“The EliYahuians had Guardians?” the Spokesman asks with surprise and concern.

“Yes, they did. Maybe a dozen or more. Anyway, the men… they… “, Malcolm realizes as he is saying it that what he is saying is going to sound very weak, “well… they just took the boy by the hand and walked him out. We tried to stop them, but…” Malcolm lifts his casted wrist for them to see, “we were outnumbered and overpowered. Like I tried to say, something… the change we all have known a--”

“Silence” the Spokesman says, rather gently this time and with a hush of defeat.

The three Elders converse a very long while in their native language. Finally, the

Spokesman looks at Malcolm and asks, “What state is the Emanator in, presently?”

“Presently,” Malcolm responds, “she is in a state of comatose. She was in a prechanneler state when the attack took place. We are not sure what her state of mind will be when… if, she awakes.”  

“Terminate the Emanator,” The Spokesman orders.

Malcolm is surprised by the order. Good Emanators are difficult to create. “What about the Knowledge Transfer? We’ll need an Emanator.”

“Lee Nelson’s protégé, perhaps?” the Spokesman suggests.

“Sloan?” Malcolm knows her well.

“Yes. Sloan. She’ll do.”  

“I don’t think Lee is going to like this idea,” Malcolm admits, “he has put a lot of effort into her. If he learns about what happened to the previous Emanator then he’s going to resist.”

“We will manage Mr. Nelson. You do what we expect you to do. Complete the Knowledge Transfer successfully. We will provide you with… extra protection. You have just six more days and then we'll have to wait another cycle. We don't want to wait.”