NetherWorld, Daniel Pagan [books for 7th graders txt] 📗

the TranFor verses that have so accurately prophesied the dire times we now face.” ordered SwagBak.
“We all know the verses SwagBak. I see no need to hear them during the debate.” NazKlan insisted.
“Quiet Sand Byte. We have been more than accommodating by providing you with this hearing. I suggest you control your impulses and adhere to protocol. The decision does not rest with you NazKlan. It is I, the Leader of the High Council and the facilitator of this debate who makes this call. Now just levitate while we hear the verses,” warned SwagBak.
“Enough! I will not levitate while you recount the text of a Byte who went mad with Taint. He was infected and should have been deleted. Instead some soft Servers allowed him to construct a sili-fairytale that we all must subscribe too. I will not spin for this one tick longer.”
“NazKlan you have broken decorum. Not even a Server can dictate the course of a High Council debate. Return or face sanction from the council,” warned SwagBak.
NazKlan maintained his position in the center of the debate circle. Blue Guard Bytes looked towards SwagBak for orders.
“NazKlan did you not hear the command of the High Council. Stand down or we will forcibly remove you,” admonished SwagBak.
NazKlan levitated in defiance. SwagBak sighed in frustration.
“Very well then…” started SwagBak before NazKlan interrupted.
“Spin back! All of you, keep your distance! I am so glad we have gathered here today to meet. This debate is no longer necessary. Rest assured, the Analogs will take control before the Chosen One ever reaches Tera. We thank you all for your service. You are now dismissed to your towers,” announced NazKlan. The council mumbled with surprise at the use of that name. The Analogs were rumored to be responsible for a series of terrorist acts throughout the Walled City. Each act accompanied with a message warning of the impending doom at the hands of the Karbons.
“The Analogs! So, you are the leader of the terror that has befallen the Walled City. What treasonous act is this? You dare dismiss the High Council. On what authority?” asked SwagBak with shock and dismay at such an audacious remark. “Guards, seize this rebel and cast him from our sight.” The Blue Guard moved closer and closer to NazKlan.
“SwagBak, the Analogs are now in charge here. The authority is all mine. I suggest you abandon your indignation if you want avoid deletion ,” warned NazKlan.
“A coup? You can’t be serious NazKlan. Guards. Seize this traitor and remove him for trial. It is you who will be deleted for this act NazKlan!” exclaimed SwagBak.
Bytes of the Blue Guard surrounded him. The Blue Guard was the police force that preserved order in NetherWorld. They followed the dictates of SwagBak, the Leader of the High Council.
“You are making a mistake. We can control both worlds. We can use science to fight this oppression. You must abandon the wicked teachings of the TranFor. I urge you all to reconsider and follow us towards the Singularity. If you choose to spin against me, you functions will cease in mere ticks of time.
“We cannot be contained by you or any other force in NetherWorld. The Analogs will rule. There are others who believe as I. Make no mistake, this war has just begun. I warn you again. Excuse your Blue Guard and swear allegiance to the Analogs or face your own shredding” spat NazKlan as the Blue Guard grabbed his arms and began moving him to the exit.
“Who do you think you are NazKlan? We will not suffer acts of treason. Make sure he is partitioned from all Silicate contact until he can be safely transported to the Bin for deletion. We will represent his sector by committee until a suitable replacement can be found.
“It appears rumors of the Analog insurgency are true. These terrorists must be stopped. Use whatever means necessary to force NazKlan to reveal all he knows about the Analogs and their plans. Spare nothing in this pursuit. His suffering is justified. So says the TranFor of insurgents,” ordered SwagBak.
NazKlan began laughing a deep hearty laugh that echoed in the dome. His tubular hair wiggled in every direction.
“Laugh not Sand Byte, we know your tricks. You probably brought some of your trained Spys and Kooks to muscle your way with the Council.”
NazKlan flashed a surprised look towards SwagBak, who drew particular pleasure from shocking the salted sphere.
“Yes we know you have trained a small army of these creatures to do your bidding. Do you think us that daft? Prior to this parody you have put on here today, I instructed the Blue Guard to install the most powerful we have to minimize any such moves. So stand down or face your own batching.”
NazKlan’s countenance turned dark and sated. He once again erupted in a raucous laugh.
“You cannot detain or delete me SwagBak. I have powerful friends in important places. Places you would least suspect. Places you would never visit out of fear. I do not need my Spys or Kooks. Instead, I brought along some new friends. Analog nation begins our rule today,” NazKlan then spoke what appeared to be unintelligible babble.
“1011011 111 001 011 01001,” he said in Turingi, which was an old Analog dialect. This was the language used by ancient Silicate civilizations. Before Silicates evolved into Bytes, they spoke only Analog, the mother tongue. These primitive life forms were known to as Bits. The language outlasted the Bits and carried through to the Bytes, until the digital age.
“What heresy is this? You dare to talk the Turingi under our sacred Dome. How dare you? Have you no sense of decency? You will pay dearly for this act NazKlan!” screamed SwagBak.
“Just as we thought, these Saltanic desert dwellers have been practicing the mystical arts. We should have annihilated the entire sector when we had the chance,” said the Server for Sector 4.
One of the options considered by the High Council during the initial infestation was to bomb the sector in Silicate dust. A majority of the council rejected this because of the collateral damage this would cause. Instead, they chose the humane, for lack of a better word, solution and quarantined the invading creatures.
NazKlan took a deep breath and then sprayed the floor with saliva laden salt. Such an act in the dome is akin to urinating in public. The council looked on at this in shock.
“He is an animal.”
“Not fit to lead even a desert!”
“Disgusting!”
“We should bomb the lot of the Sand Bytes.”
NazKlan seemed to take pleasure in their disgust. Uptight bunch of Silicates, he thought to himself. They have no idea what will come.
Just then, thousands of small robotic spiders emerged from all parts of the room and swarmed SwagBak. The blue creatures made disturbing clicking sounds as the sped toward their target. Oddly enough, these creatures closely resembled the spiderbots that cleaned Nick’s room.
“Pixals!” shouted another Server.
SwagBak’s black tubes flitted about in desperation. “You have made a pack with He who eats His own. You would have the undead do your bidding. Even if you consume me the Guard will capture you. You will not leave this dome a free Byte!” he exclaimed.
Pixals were demonic creatures made from the remains of deleted Bytes. They were forged in the Bin by the nefarious Thrasher. He was the death dealer of NetherWorld. Isolated in the Bin, he preformed the dirty work other Silicates would prefer not to think about. He deleted all corrupt and otherwise unhealthy Silicates in NetherWorld. His, was a thankless job that provided no rest or reprieve from all things vile and unspeakable in this domain.
Over time Thrasher witnessed so much death and deletion, he developed some terrible and perverse habits. He began building creatures from the shredded dead Bytes. He could only produce primitive creatures. Pixals were his first creation.
They had dark purple bodies and black spider legs. They could only be programmed to respond to the original tongue. They terrified Bytes, because they were the product of Deletion. Where there were Pixals, Thrasher was not far behind.
“Release me or face Deletion!” demanded NazKlan.
“The Council will not release you to spare my Deletion. You know this NazKlan. Now call off the Pixals and go with the Blue Guard. It is for the best. You can delete me, but the Guard will still take you away,” warned SwagBak.
NazKlan spun over to the Council leader levitated in front of him. In a slow, deliberate act of insult, he spewed salty spit into the visor of SwagBak. Unaccustomed to the salty substance, SwagBak felt the burning. Temporarily blind by the attack, he was helpless. The rest of the council looked on at this treasonous act, unable to help their leader.
“My dear SwagBak. Do you really think I would stop at just one Server? I ask the council to raise their visors to the ceiling of this dome,” responded NazKlan with confidence.
Each Server tilted his axis enough to see the translucent dome above them. Again, NazKlan spoke the ancient Turingi code:
“10100010 1001 0101110”
With that command, the clicking of Pixal legs grew far louder that the previous time. The Servers could see droves of Pixals crawling up the dome ceiling. A few ticks later, the entire surface was crawling with the creatures. Shadows of spider legs danced upon the dome. Smothered by Pixals, the dome’s trademark glow dimmed; leaving normally well lit alleyways awash in unnatural darkness.
“Now release me SwagBak, or the entire council risks deletion!” demanded NazKlan.
SwagBak knew that the Blue guard was outmatched. Many of the Servers would fall. The loss of key High Council leaders was too great a risk to take.
“As you wish,” relented SwagBak. “Make no mistake NazKlan, this will not end here. We will hunt you down and stop this insurrection. Guards, release him.”
The Blue Guard spun away from him. NazKlan recalled the Pixals and prepared to exit.
“You have made a terrible mistake here today. We will do everything in our power to stop this tragic path the council has chosen. You have not heard the last of the Analogs,” warned SwagBak.
“Foolish Bytes, the lot of you. By my estimation, your ailing queen Tera is near the end. It could be just ticks of time before the last tendril withers away. Then your dream of Joining will evaporate. Before any new being could hatch, we will have reached the Singularity. Of course, none of you will be around to witness any of this,” with that warning, NazKlan spoke Turingi to his robotic spiders.

“00111000 1010 1010 11111 11 11,” he said with particular pleasure.

“For those council Servers not fluent in the mother tongue, I have instructed the Pixals to shred every one of you misguided Bytes. After that, they will bring your shredded remains to Thrasher, eater of the dead. He will