Read Online Broken Crescent by S. Andrew Swann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S. Andrew Swann
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you, so they’ll be back. . . .
The thought kept returning. When they came back, Nate knew that somehow, despite the language barrier, he could make a deal. There had to be something he could do to convince them to let him go, or at least put him in a clean cell with clean clothes.
At least some air, and some food. He had a craving for sausage stuffing, which made him think of Mom again. . . .
I’m making myself crazy. . . .
Nate tried to put his mind somewhere else.
He closed his eyes, and tried to force himself to forget about the smell, the filth, and the itching. To give himself something to focus on, he started composing C++ code in his head. Every time he felt distracted, he punished himself by starting over from the first line.
It worked, and soon he was deep inside his own head, putting together a simple bubble-sort algorithm.
When he was satisfied with the algorithm, he translated the C++ code to Perl, then he translated it into AZ, a programming language he had invented when he was fourteen.
When he traced the code in his head, it showed up a bug in the way AZ worked. He fell asleep mentally rewriting the code for AZ to properly handle recursive subroutines.
Light woke him up.
For a few moments he didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him. But the memories came back too quickly as he blinked in the sudden torchlight.
Boy, am I fucked.
As his eyesight cleared, Nate got to see one of the aliens close-up for the first time.
Its face was elongated and tilted back, the mouth wide and rubbery, the brow smooth and hairless above round eyes with no whites and irises the same purple-black as its skin. The arms had an extra elbow, and the fingers had an extra joint, and it had a gait showing legs with the same design.
It wore a dirty-white toga, bound with a rope at a waistline that would be even with the sternum in a normal anatomy. The torso was way too small for the spidery legs and arms. Nate couldn’t guess gender.
It stood in the doorway, carrying a bucket.
Nate slowly pushed himself upright, thinking he might push past this thing. Then he saw the masked men with the torches, out in the hallway.
The alien set the bucket down on the floor and backed away. The door shut behind it. Everything was dark again.
Nate felt for the bucket and found it. Inside it was a bowl filled with a lumpy broth and half a loaf of some hard, flat bread. However plain the food was, it awoke Nate’s hunger. He hadn’t eaten in at least twenty-four hours, if not longer.
It took only a few moments to realize what the bucket itself was for. It was a bit of a trick relieving himself while holding his meal. But he didn’t have much choice, it would be unthinkable to eat anything that came in contact with any surface of his cell.
Fortunately, the bucket was wooden with a fairly thick rim, so he could raise his robe and sit on it without much discomfort.
He ate his first meal sitting on the piss bucket, soaking the bread in the broth so he could manage to chew it.
He woke up in the middle of the “night” chilled and sweaty, and threw up that first meal into the half-full bucket.
The alien came with a new bucket and took the old one.
Nate didn’t move from the corner. He was shivering and weak, and it felt as if his insides were melting away.
He tried to eat, but he threw up again. When he managed to pull himself up on the bucket, he had diarrhea as thin as his urine.
Not good, Nate thought.
He couldn’t stand up to get the next meal. He dragged himself across the floor without paying much mind to what lived in the straw. He felt around for the broth, and fearing he’d vomit again, left the hard bread. He sucked the broth through his teeth leaving the solids in the bowl.
That he managed to keep down.
His time was spent mostly in semiconscious darkness. He was so weak that sometimes he didn’t reach the bucket. When the alien came and saw this, it responded by fetching more straw and shoveling
The thought kept returning. When they came back, Nate knew that somehow, despite the language barrier, he could make a deal. There had to be something he could do to convince them to let him go, or at least put him in a clean cell with clean clothes.
At least some air, and some food. He had a craving for sausage stuffing, which made him think of Mom again. . . .
I’m making myself crazy. . . .
Nate tried to put his mind somewhere else.
He closed his eyes, and tried to force himself to forget about the smell, the filth, and the itching. To give himself something to focus on, he started composing C++ code in his head. Every time he felt distracted, he punished himself by starting over from the first line.
It worked, and soon he was deep inside his own head, putting together a simple bubble-sort algorithm.
When he was satisfied with the algorithm, he translated the C++ code to Perl, then he translated it into AZ, a programming language he had invented when he was fourteen.
When he traced the code in his head, it showed up a bug in the way AZ worked. He fell asleep mentally rewriting the code for AZ to properly handle recursive subroutines.
Light woke him up.
For a few moments he didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him. But the memories came back too quickly as he blinked in the sudden torchlight.
Boy, am I fucked.
As his eyesight cleared, Nate got to see one of the aliens close-up for the first time.
Its face was elongated and tilted back, the mouth wide and rubbery, the brow smooth and hairless above round eyes with no whites and irises the same purple-black as its skin. The arms had an extra elbow, and the fingers had an extra joint, and it had a gait showing legs with the same design.
It wore a dirty-white toga, bound with a rope at a waistline that would be even with the sternum in a normal anatomy. The torso was way too small for the spidery legs and arms. Nate couldn’t guess gender.
It stood in the doorway, carrying a bucket.
Nate slowly pushed himself upright, thinking he might push past this thing. Then he saw the masked men with the torches, out in the hallway.
The alien set the bucket down on the floor and backed away. The door shut behind it. Everything was dark again.
Nate felt for the bucket and found it. Inside it was a bowl filled with a lumpy broth and half a loaf of some hard, flat bread. However plain the food was, it awoke Nate’s hunger. He hadn’t eaten in at least twenty-four hours, if not longer.
It took only a few moments to realize what the bucket itself was for. It was a bit of a trick relieving himself while holding his meal. But he didn’t have much choice, it would be unthinkable to eat anything that came in contact with any surface of his cell.
Fortunately, the bucket was wooden with a fairly thick rim, so he could raise his robe and sit on it without much discomfort.
He ate his first meal sitting on the piss bucket, soaking the bread in the broth so he could manage to chew it.
He woke up in the middle of the “night” chilled and sweaty, and threw up that first meal into the half-full bucket.
The alien came with a new bucket and took the old one.
Nate didn’t move from the corner. He was shivering and weak, and it felt as if his insides were melting away.
He tried to eat, but he threw up again. When he managed to pull himself up on the bucket, he had diarrhea as thin as his urine.
Not good, Nate thought.
He couldn’t stand up to get the next meal. He dragged himself across the floor without paying much mind to what lived in the straw. He felt around for the broth, and fearing he’d vomit again, left the hard bread. He sucked the broth through his teeth leaving the solids in the bowl.
That he managed to keep down.
His time was spent mostly in semiconscious darkness. He was so weak that sometimes he didn’t reach the bucket. When the alien came and saw this, it responded by fetching more straw and shoveling
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