Jacob Burns and the Order of the Algorithm #Wattys2017

Chapter 12: A Very Unexpected Guest

"In fact," he said as he turned to Ilya once more, "I was hoping you could help shed some light on this whole situation. Did your father have any enemies I should know about? Was there anything he was working on that would make him a target? Did he leave you with anything, anything at all, that could explain this?"

"Oh! Well... I uh..." Ilya said taken aback, but with one look from me she clammed up tight. "Nothing that I know of," she said quickly, a look of guilt written all over her face.

"Well, that's that," I said suddenly as I stood up. "I think you can take your leave now, Mr. Valentine..."

"What? What did I do?" The synth said defensively as I snorted.

"Oh don't play dumb with me. It was a nice performance and all, but you're not convincing anybody here."

"Jacob... please," Ilya begged.

"You got something to say to me, kid?" Valentine replied.

"Yeah, I got something to say... I don't trust you. I don't trust this whole deal. I think you're from the Institute here to lower our defenses and the only thing keeping me from shooting you right now just so happens to be sitting next to me. I think you should go. Now."

We stood in tense silence, each sizing the other up. The air between us electrified as we both itched for our weapons.

Suddenly, a crash clamored outside. We all ran to the window and saw a gang of ghouls, half a dozen at least, racing through the wreckage and towards the door. Apparently, our voices had carried farther than I realized in this old building. Valentine turned to me, a scowl firmly on his face.

"Listen kid, this ain't what you think, I promise. I'd be happy to explain everything, but it looks like we've got some company. Stay here. Talk it out. I'll take care of the pest problem," he said as he loaded his gun and walked out of the room, leaving us alone and bewildered.

As soon as he was gone, I reeled around on Ilya.

"We need to get out of here," I said, "And quick. I don't like this one bit."

"Jacob, stop it! You're just overreacting... He's been nothing but helpful, and I don't see why we can't tell him what we know. We have a mystery on our hands and he is a detective, after all. He could help us!"

"Ilya, you can't trust a synth. It doesn't matter who they used to be, they're all tools of the Institute now. Every. Single. One." I said as I peered out the window, the synth disposing of the shambling beasts with record speed.

"We don't have much time," I said, "Do you really think your father left something for you here? Because if so, we need to find it. Now."

I could see she wanted to argue, but said nothing more. We both began scouring the study for something, anything, that could help us on our way, but the place had been cleaned out centuries before, leaving nothing behind but a dead man's bones and his books.

As time dragged on, I looked through the window once again, only to find Valentine standing guard just outside. Keeping things out, or keeping us in? I thought to myself. As I turned back to Ilya, I found her staring at a painting of a lighthouse on the wall.

It was a haunting depiction. A strong white tower stood against a vast, tumultuous sea. The waters crashed against the rocks with wild abandon, desperately trying to erode the foundation at its roots. Amid the writhing waves was a small boat, barely clinging to life out in the chaos. The light of the tower pierced the darkness, guiding the boat safely into the harbor.

"My mother made this painting," she said quietly. "Before I was born. It was one of my father's favorites. Whenever he felt lost or confused, he would come up here to his study and just stare at it for hours. I really do miss them both..."

"Ilya, I know this is hard, but you have to think!" I pleaded as I looked through the drawers for the thousandth time, "Where would your father hide a message in here?" But Ilya seemed far away, lost in the fine brushwork of her dead mother's painting.

I rolled my eyes, beginning to think there wasn't anything here at all and this had all just been one big waste of time, when suddenly, Ilya perked up.

"Follow the light," she whispered to herself as she inspected the painting even closer. I came over to see for myself, but there was nothing special I could see about it.

"Follow the light!" She cried once again, this time even louder.

Before I knew it, she had grabbed the knife from my belt and had begun carving away at the canvas of her beloved mother's painting.

"What are you doing?" I said, utterly confused at her sudden outburst, but she ignored me as she always did. I watched on as she carefully pulled back the canvas, inch by inch in the hopes of not ripping the precious heirloom, until at last, I saw a glint of gold drop to the floor. Ilya smiled wide as she picked it up and held it up to the light.

A golden key.

I could hardly believe it as she handed it to me. It was a tiny thing really, but incredibly intricate in its design. Immediately, I noticed the strange emblem at the top, that of an eye inside of an atom. Surrounding the symbol and engraved in a fine calligraphy, was a mysterious phrase.

"Omnium Lux Civium..." I read aloud, "What do you think that means?"

"Well, it's Latin", Ilya offered helpfully, "It means "The Light of all People", but that's not the only thing." She said as she turned over the key, revealing another engraving along its side. Two small figures glinted in the light, that of an M and an 8.

"M8? What's that supposed to be, some kind of code?"

"I can't be sure..." she replied curiously, "But this motto, I know I've seen it before!"

"Really? Where?"

"On the seal of the Boston Public Library, just downtown," she said breathlessly, the excitement plain on her face. "That's not far from here!"

"Right then, guess that settles it," I said as I slipped the key into my pocket. "Is there a back way out of this place?"

"Well, yes... But what about Detective Valentine?"

"What about him? Like I said, he's a synth and you can't trust a synth. Now C'mon, let's go."

She looked back mournfully at the window, but didn't argue as we quickly made our way down the stairs and out the back door.