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Warhammer 40,000 · Month X · The Supernatural · Week I
The door is already closed when Stacy arrives.
Not locked once.
Locked six times.
Heavy bars. Mechanical clamps. An old wheel turned into place.
STACY:
“Why?”
The old man beside the door shrugs.
“Because we don’t open it.”
Stacy looks at Caelwyn.
STACY:
“That is not a reason.”
CAELWYN:
“It may be the remains of one.”
Her instruments unfold around the entrance.
Temperature.
Atmosphere.
Radiation.
Movement.
Biological traces.
Nothing unusual.
STACY:
“No contamination. No radiation anomaly. No movement outside. No biological hazard.”
CAELWYN:
“So we found nothing.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t the same as proving there is nothing.”
Stacy gives him a look.
STACY:
“If nobody tests a warning, superstition can preserve anything.”
“Agreed.”
“Fear.”
“Yes.”
“Prejudice.”
“Yes.”
“Bad information.”
“Yes.”
She almost looks disappointed that he agrees.
Earlier that day they tested two local taboos.
Never touch a red bird feather.
Nothing.
Never drink from the western well after the thaw.
Heavy metals from seasonal runoff.
STACY:
“One rule was nonsense.”
CAELWYN:
“And one was right for a reason nobody here understood.”
“Which is why we investigate.”
“Yes.”
Caelwyn looks towards a child being led home.
“But before that child understands mineral runoff, someone still has to tell him not to drink the water.”
The third bell sounds.
The old man checks the locks.
Then:
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
From the other side.
Stacy’s instruments react to nothing.
No heat source.
No movement.
No life signs.
STACY:
“I want to interact with it.”
CAELWYN:
“I know.”
“We learn nothing by refusing to test.”
“We should test it.”
She turns to him.
“But?”
“But perhaps opening the door tonight doesn’t have to be the first test.”
The old man watches them.
“My grandmother said the voices call with names you know.”
STACY:
“Do you believe her?”
He thinks.
“No.”
A pause.
“I still don’t open the door.”
Stacy looks back at the instruments.
STACY:
“So you obey a rule you don’t believe.”
The old man shrugs.
“I’ve been alive a long time.”
Later, Stacy and Caelwyn sit opposite each other beside the sealed gate.
STACY:
“My order is simple. Test the rule. Then decide whether to obey it.”
CAELWYN:
“Mine is different.”
She waits.
“When the possible cost is high enough, obey the rule while you test it.”
STACY:
“That can preserve falsehood forever.”
CAELWYN:
“And your order can kill the investigator before the second experiment.”
Silence.
The humans have lived here for generations.
Stacy has measured the door for forty minutes.
They observe through the night.
They do not open it.
Morning comes.
The locks are removed.
Beyond the door lies an old road.
Nothing else.
At first.
Then Stacy finds the structure beneath it.
Artificial.
Ancient.
Buried deep.
STACY:
“This could explain the warning.”
CAELWYN:
“Or explain what the warning misunderstood.”
“Or the rule could be wrong now for a reason that was once right.”
“Yes.”
Stacy looks back at the open gate.
STACY:
“We need more measurements.”
Caelwyn smiles.
CAELWYN:
“We do.”
She closes her instrument.
STACY:
“And until then?”
Caelwyn waits.
Stacy answers herself.
STACY:
“We don’t open the door after the third bell.”
A pause.
Then she looks at him.
STACY:
“When a warning has kept people alive for generations, how much do we need to understand before we decide it is safe to stop listening?”
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