Schutbi 20 riskons

Waim: Time/ Sun/ Moon/ Sky

Brr: Cold/ Icy/ Windy/ Uncomfortable

Shass: Hot/ Humid/ Cozy/ Comfortable

Khomn: Sleep/ Unguarded

Omn: Awake/ Alert

Urtt: Close/ Nearby

Dortt: Distant/ Faraway

Banni: Talk/ Make displeasing noises (gurgling, rasping, etc)

Manni: Sing/ Make pleasing noises

Khur: Free

Tur: Caged

Schutbi Phrases 20 riskons

· Punnu waim akl: So much time to use (so whatever you say is no excuse).

· Moi poofi...moi waraturr: You either lose or cheat. Meaning that it does not matter if you win since no one wins in life (in their eyes), and if you do gain victory, it means you cheated.

Guantum ran a hand across the misty leaves of a potted tree beside the door. He savored the coldness and shook it off, pressing the doorbell woven with weathered patinas and exposed rivets again. No response. He rang the third time. Something startling unrolled out of the handle; a paper mache gargoyle with crazy eyes, its tongue sticking out of the food stuffed maw. Once he composed himself, he took the tongue and read the cursively written words: "If you rang three times, then Polly is not here. Press the brooch to summon her automaton Clency."

"Brooch..?" He looked around. Nothing. He looked up. Also nothing. He looked down—eureka! The silver brooch hugging a purple gemstone lied between his feet, supported by an extendable nozzle snaking through the gap between the floor and door. Now he knew why such gaps existed. (There is no chance of smoke or other harmful substances within a dormitory—if combustion occurs during an experiment, the ventilator connected to one chute throughout Haven is in charge). He stepped on it, producing a pleasant clink. His fingers tapped on his sides as he gazed ahead patiently.

Guantum trembled under the weight of his responsibility, of pretending to be someone greater than him in everything. But he steeled himself in for the harder task; to ask someone for their blueprint. Ask someone for something!

Five days passed since Ridge's departure, and no bird gave Guantum the word to drop the act altogether. He naturally had to be on Ridge's deck and call—it was the right thing to do. He had to wear his jacket, loiter around the water wheel, and bond with Faye Ire. Ah, miss Ire. Now, that was the hard task.

A tap on Guantum's shoulder jarred him from his stupor. He looked over to find Faye tartly bat her lashes at him. She brushed the lapel of the jacket and huffed, "Where were you? I expected you by Sequita Clocktower."

Guantum grimaced; the Sequita Clocktower was in his least favorite place, Appenda Island. With its crowded glory, the myriad of storefronts and bistros, and lined glass globes of electricity for lighting (it's one of the Cutting Edges of Haven, places that are far from the Diurnal Bridge), Appenda Island never faced shortage of attention despite its unflattering location.

Before he could reply, an enameled automaton wearing the same apron as Polly's flung the door open. He shrunk back so far he collided with Faye. She graciously caught him by the elbows, her eyes still on the automaton.

Faye gaped. "Since when did you own an automaton? I thought they are exclusive to the elite." Dropping the frightened boy, she pressed the thumbs of her balled hands together and, keeping her fists near her face, bowed. "May the deity and Boon grant them lifelong success!"

"It's indeed for Professor Faber's daughter Polly." Guantum ignored Faye's mumbling of "Professor Faber didn't even attend his own brother's funeral. Shame" and addressed the automaton, breaking a sweat, "Could you hand Polly's recent blueprint over?" He clapped his hands over his mouth and glanced at Faye worriedly. "I sound like the SAP! (Scrutiny Affiliate Patrol)"

Faye ascribed Guantum's anxiousness to his tempered conscience. She squinted at him as she thought, "He oughtn't leave Ridge out to the wolves like this! Ridge entrusted him with substitution, and for what? For further incriminating him? What good will stealing others' blueprints and building by my side in public do to dearie?"

A moment of silence clung to the air. Shortly afterwards, The automaton beeped and buzzed, "Mister Ridge Kindler, aged 17, recent graduate of the 150 graduates—"

The pair's eyes were as wide as saucers. Faye tossed her head and sputtered, "I-it thinks you're Ridge!"

Guantum swallowed thickly and removed the jacket. "It's wired to assimilate our clothes and pinpoint its owners."

"Why would Polly need that?" Guantum answered Faye's daunting question by handing her the jacket and grabbing ahold of Clency's shoulders. It did not need to know he was Ridge, let alone store the information to—and that was the worst case scenario—share it to Polly and the other governors. A feeling of courage crept upon him. He shook it so vehemently the cogs jingled raucously and the valve crowning its head sprayed grease. If it were not for soundproof walls and doors and the semi-opaque walls separating the doors from the walking conveyer belt, people would be ogling like voyeurs at the harrowing yet amusing scene in the middle of the Scapulars wing.

Faye shrieked as she started slinking away from the scene, "Why're you doing that, Guan? It won't shut it up!"

Guantum coughed over Clency's automated spiel, "Nothing too personal! J-just—agh!" He pommeled it in the softer part of its jaw, sending it slamming against the door and knocking the potted tree over.

Perhaps it was. It has been decades since Guantum ever unleashed a fiber of human anger. Of human animalistic anger. He felt inclined to be the fragile, goody two-shoes one under all circumstances. And shaking a robot with manic was the first, humble step. The shell that has kept him irresolute had hatched.

Clency droned, its voice catching on fire, "Mis-mister Guahantum Jer-rn, a-aged 16, recent crimina-lllll."

Guantum's breathing was too loud for him to process the last words before it broke in shambles and sizzled to nothingness. Faye, however—in spite of her thrumming heart mimicking the Orderly Metronomes lined against the walls—gasped while fanning her mascara smudged face, "Did you hear that? Criminal. I-it deemed you a criminal!" She glared at him. "What you did was no less of a wrongdoing. And you know what? I always wanted to be someone's partner in crime. Thank you for embroiling me in this with you. Thank you!"

This dire situation left no room for sarcasm. Guantum felt his throat go dry as he crouched in front of the broken automaton and set it upright. "L-let me...try and fix it."

Faye's breath hitched as she doddered backwards. She could not stand any second longer. She was suffocating in a sea of low viscosity, with the only escape being a floatie thrown by a strong, dashing man. A man like Ridge.

While Guantum desperately tweaking Clency's malfunctioned guts, Faye stood in front of him so that her wide dress could block him from any citizen's view. She wiped the residue of makeup off her cheeks with the jacket and pulled the lapel closer to her mouth. Fingering a hidden button literally in disguise as a hand-sown button, she spoke into it while watching Guantum struggle with directing some wires, "Ridge, dearie. Can you hear me?"

Static noise could be heard until Ridge's voice came through. "Yes, Faye."

"And so can anyone else?"

"No, Faye. The messages are encrypted, so they slip past all these little monitoring charged with energy fields from Haven." Mavis could be heard exclaiming "Heyi, Faye! Send us some more cake—" but an audible bonk stopped her.

Faye heard unintelligible rushing of water and whinnying of horses. She bit her tongue from asking about their whereabouts. "Erm, I had to call you because..."

Faye trailed off as she saw her figure skater friend get off the conveyer belt and emerge from one of the spherical openings, Liam Soul. His markedly aristocratic air made him incongruous—especially with his unusual scherenschnitte-made scarf covering half of his face. In his hand were ice skates, his Aptem, and in the other his frost-oriented Sensing Snowglobe supported by a miniature sledge. His eyes met hers momentarily before looking askance at Guantum's back. He kept working even among the throng of students pouring in, with some stamping guarded eyes at the scene. Faye was too agitated by Liam's appearance that she did not hear a few complain, "My little brother keeps crying about wanting to go to Ivan's puppet shows. He's just not there now..."

Liam muttered, "You okay?"

Faye winced and looked back at Guantum. He still had his nose buried into Clency's exposed insides. She croaked through the jacket, "I'm okay. Just a wee bit nauseous."

"Faye! Out with it!" Ridge's voice persisted like a stubborn echo in a hollow chamber, leaving Faye no option but to whisper back, "Guantum is now a criminal, and the SAP might arrive to detain him."

Liam nodded and pointed between them, "Okay. Remember. Ice rink. You to see me, and Ridge to amplify the lighting." He gave Guantum one last fiery look before returning to the conveyer belt.

"...And where is he now so I could execute it covertly?"

Ridge had been speaking from the moment Faye bore the bad news. She squashed the confusion down and looked over at Guantum mutiliating a panel of the conveyer belt and transporting his hand could find to Clency's power cell. "In the Scapulars, in front of Polly's dorm."

Ridge let out a shuddery breath. "Alright...here's what you'll do. You'll escort Guantum to my room. Make sure he wears the jacket. Then, you'll leave him inside. I'll tell you when to go in."

Faye's voice rose to a higher lilt, "Eek! But, dearie, we can't leave Polly's broken automaton like that. Oh yes, I clean forgot to tell you about that, um..."

"Faye, darling, would you be so good as to follow me for now? I'm trying to give you a taste of comfort. Just follow." Ridge's voice was uncharacteristically sultry, but it was just like how it was in Faye's fantasy. His words scratched her ear drums that have been itching for real compassion after all this. It was a good feeling. So good her worries slipped her mind and a warm energy blossomed her heart.

And without a hitch, Faye had closed the door. Guantum was shuddering profusely, as if the shaken up mechanisms passed on to his veins. He was partially covered in grease, and his shirt was speckled with both sweat and tears. When his eyes adjusted to the light, they widened as he took in Ridge's interior. He noticed the boxes were empty, meaning that the automaton had taken them and the Swap Slint went under way.

While that was happening, Ridge and the team were out on an expedition. They stood on the raft consisting of gabions in companionable silence. Controlling the raft were the Lema twins straddling the swimming horses, an Argo float tied to the reins. The air was notably moist, salted with the aroma of moss. Mavis bent over and reached for the waters to neaten her unkempt hair, but Quennel was quick to stop her with a scolding groan.

Ridge looked up from the pauldron he was talking to. He stood up in front of a wooden carved board and cleared his throat to capture everyone's attention. Once all eyes fell on him, he spread his arms and said, "Look, just like how this raft is rickety but has no holes, our trip is risky but has no flaws. You all know how much this means to me as the Riskmaster." He glanced at Quennel and frowned; the older man had been eyeing his Riskometer for as long as he remembered from when he placed it down. It did not reveal any curiosity whatsoever.

"All of you signed up for this, so will I be responsible for any injuries? No. Will I be responsible for any little deaths? No. Will I—you get the drill! It's only me, myself, I and the Riskmaster, and as much as it pains me to do this—no, no it doesn't—I will have to finish my mission while you cover my tracks. And remember how the one who was supposed to do that was Guantum, also the guy who sent us the Argo float? Well, we don't need him anymore. He's an outlier!"

Mavis shot up. "But, heyi, I wanna help you with outlining navigations. Look." She unfurled her Aptem scroll and revealed a soggy map, a piece of chalk rolling out. She looked at it sadly, "Oh..."

"Okay! Good riddance to listening. That's it, hm—" Ridge snatched the chalk from the floor and drew the axes of a graph on the board. "Hope this helps!"

Mavis rubbed her eyes and blinked at the graph. Quennel copied it on his book. The Lema twins tilted their heads sideways, with Ab expressing more fascination than Und.

With a gnashing scree, Ridge outlined the last error bar at the very top and faced everybody. All they saw was a simple straight line through the origin, touching 5 points and avoiding one that sunk to the bottom. Varying error bars were etched on each except for the stray one. He wagged his finger and explained, his face rigid, "The x axis represents power in watts and the y axis represents usage in, let's say, quantums. Oddly enough, all of you make up a linear relationship in this, euh, mission." He pointed at the first point. "This one represents Quennel. Not too useful, not too powerful. All I could benefit from him is what's inside his book." He narrowed his eyes at the book. "I have a feeling that might help."

Quennel smiled dryly. "Treating us as tools rather than equals. I see, Mister Kindler."

Ridge navigated to the second point and sent Mavis a tight lipped expression. "Just a touch more useful than Quennel, and your power lies in your eye for geography. In other words, I could put your maps to good use. Plus, your absense from Haven is good in the cartography field. However, I doubt we'll get lost since you can practically see the Diurnal Bridge from a hundred miles away." He whispered, "And she might die of starvation."

Mavis tensed. "What?"

"Anywho, this next one is for none other than the Lema twins." He gestured towards said twins, "While you two have proven useful for our overall survival, a feeling of doubt keeps pricking me. That you two might get distracted."

Ab gasped and said heatedly, "Why would you think I'm in that level with Und?"

Und gaped at his brother. "Yeah, you're worse than that."

Ab and Und erupted into a squabble, in which Quennel was able to break by throwing spitballs on the nape of their necks. Ridge clucked and moved on to the fourth point. "This one belongs to Ivan. Ivan, wherever he's at now. He'll be the one who will soften our encounters with the Nevanese despite our barriers. And you know how his absense in Haven will cause, ahem, slight unrest." At the next point, he scoffed. "And Faye. Ah, silly goose, Faye. Sticking by my side so she could scrape off all the info I have. She's a spy, if you didn't know. Not for the Riskometer though. Her father is neck and neck with my dad. My dad, always a step too close, you see, so he's naturally jealous of him and wants to destroy him through his convenient daughter's "connection" with me."

"No, she actually just loves you." Mavis commented.

Quennel raised a hand. "Why is Ire higher than Pelet?"

Ridge smiled sinisterly, almost as if he was waiting for this question. A deadhead threatened to scratch the sides of the raft, but he sucked it into the Riskometer in the nick of time. He pointed at the stray point. "Because she'll help in a lot of ways. For one, she'll help me get rid of this outlier right here. Guantum." His voice dropped with venom. Ridge pointed at the shoulder plate. "Actually, I received the news from Faye. Because of his measly crime of privacy invasion and automaton abuse, he's a criminal now. And what was his job? To impersonate me. This will put me in a tough situation. My plans for the Swap Slint will be thwarted, and they'll search my room once they learn he's in cahoots with me. So it's good riddance to the boy now." Ridge tapped the board with the chalk as if it were a final, authoritative punctuation. He retrieved the Riskometer and let his finger hover above the plump sprocket design. "It'll be the last of him once I press this smart, little button."

Mavis stood up and swayed, blowing through her palms and washing the lukewarm air over her face. She asked weakly, "What will it do?"

"For me to hope it works and for you to find out." When Ridge about to touch it, Quennel cleared his throat, "And where would you put yourself in the graph? If my eyes don't deceive me, you have no point. The origin, maybe?"

Ridge looked up and snorted. "No. If I could draw a five dimensional graph, I would put myself in coordinates infinity, infinity, 'off'...and off is the fifth dimension that represents the absolute detachment from any mortal plane." With that, Ridge smiled complacently and pressed the button.

Faye was pacing about in front of Ridge's room, holding the iodine fingerprinted sheets and the piece from the Diurnal Bridge upon Ridge's orders. Guantum's voice oscillated with his cries as he battered the door, "Faye, please, don't side with them! Please, Faye! I'm innocent. I can fix—!"

"Stay back, Guantum! Stay back!" Faye covered her ears and faced the semi-opaque walls. Students silhouetted against them like fractured shadows on frosted glass. It was all nightmarish. From the complicity to the horror of the crime. She squeezed her stinging eyes shut while bending down. Horticulture never taught her to deal with this. Horticulture never prepared her for the unpredictable. Why is this feeling of regret nagging at her? It was not like she had a dog in the fight. She was just following dearie Ridge.

In a moment's notice, the tumult stopped. Sudden silence reigned supreme. It was like the calm after a storm, not before it.

Faye's eyes shot open. The silhouettes continued appearing, but were fewer than before. She sniffled and straightened her posture, her poise fleetingly shattered before she became self conscious again. She turned around and saw the bolted door. It was beckoning for her to come. She rubbed her gloved knuckles and took heavy steps closer. She fingered the sprocket-like key like how Ridge taught her. With a click, the door opened tenuously, leaving Faye no choice but to open it fully. And the sight on the floor had terror dawn on her. The sight mixed with the pungent smell of smoke and blood made her bite her fingers down so hard she could have eaten them.

Guantum's body was pressed against the cold floor, his misshapen face twisted harshly to the side. His shoulders were torn apart, and his skin charred in frighteningly large amounts. Muscle tissues were exposed, and his clothes were coarsely worn out. A plume of smoke was dancing above the lapel of the jacket.

"No, Ridge..." Faye whispered hoarsely, losing her voice in front of the dead body, her eyes fixedly ajar and her brows twitching. There was the boy, shipwrecked and capsized in his destroyed vessel that was once filled with the dedication fo a wunderkind.

Types of Automatons in Haven (with one example for each):

· Autonomous: deals with controlling automatons and their affairs in lieu of humans. Automatons in the facilities (in the Secondaries Wing) fall under this category.

· Hydraulic: deals with the upkeep of housing and maintenance, often serving for life-giving purposes such as nutrition or vaccinating. Clency falls under this category.

· Analytical: deals with studying and detecting defects nearby. The SAP automatons fall under this category.

· Regimented: deals with one task and function at once. Boon falls under this category.

· Manifold: deals with many tasks and functions at once. The Swap Slint automaton falls under this category.

· Symbiotic: deals with interacting with its owners. Automatons veterans can obtain due to mastering 1 year of work fall under this category.

· Extra: Heuristic: deals with decision making based on experience, trial-and-error learning, or rules of thumb rather than preprogrammed logic. Only governors' automatons fall under this category.