Mark of the Fool

“Agh, you couldn’t have brought him a little later?” Lagor complained, glaring at the crowd as they slowly closed in on Claygon. Little by little the ring of curious onlookers surrounding the young Thameish wizard and his golem shrank,people pressing tighter and tighter against each other.

Crafters reached for Claygon, wanting to touch him, their hands yearning to feel his marble surface. Only the greatest restraint stopped them and—if there’d been less people in the press—even that might not have been enough.

“Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be able to see his core,” Lagor grunted, as other engineers pushed in behind him. “Ach, budge up back there, would you? Alex, you really shouldn’t have brought Claygon during shift change! You’re not even working tonight, you could’ve saved this for when you came into work! You know, when it was quieter!”

“Why, so you could hog this sight all for yourself, Lagor?” A dwarven crafter snapped, pushing aside a skinny elven engineer. “Your assistant brought his golem in when most everybody on staff could see him! He’s being considerate, which is more than I can say for the lot of you, come on make way for an old man!”

“Old?” The elf beside him scoffed. “You’ve only seen seventy summers!”

“And that’s old! …by human standards,” the dwarf cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes, that it is,” Alex agreed. “But, ah, sorry to disappoint you but I didn’t bring him in at this time because I was being considerate or anything like that. I brought him in now, because, well, I was too excited to wait for my shift.”

And that was only a half-lie.

Alex had been rabid to show off Clagyon; were he a master of illusions, he might have conjured a hundred foot tall image of the golem and let it hover above the city for every wizard in all of Generasi to see.

But there was also a very specific reason he’d had brought Claygon to Shale’s Workshop at shift change.

Toraka Shale herself.

The workshop owner was crossing the floor like she was mesmerised, bloodshot eyes burning holes into the transformed marble golem. Alex hadn’t seen her blink recently; or even breath.

‘Good, good,’ he thought. ‘Reel in that fish.’

“What changes have you seen in him?” Lagor asked. “Have you done any structural tests yet? What’s his manaoutput and conductivity? Anything else?”

Why…do they watch me like that, father?

‘Because they’re curious about you,’ he replied mentally. ‘See all these golems here?’ He gestured to a trio of commissioned iron golems standing next to a loading bay, ready to be shipped out to their very wealthy new owner. ‘Each of them costs about one hundred and fifty thousand gold coins on the open market. Shale charges a little less because she has the facilities to make a lot of golems, but those three are as expensive as almost nine of those townhouses I was talking about buying, Claygon.’

He smiled at his golem warmly. ‘But you? You’re priceless. Not just to me, but to all of these people here.’

‘Price…less, father?’ Claygon asked mentally.

‘Yeah, you’re unique. You’ve evolved, and that makes you fascinating. Wait until they figure out you have a mind now, then you’ll really see something neat. Watch this.’

“Well, Lagor, you were wondering about what changes happened to Claygon on the inside?”

“Yeah, I did…more than a minute ago,” Lagor grunted. “Then you zoned out like a madperson.”

“Hah! I didn’t zone out, I was talking to someone.” Alex’s smile widened. Excitement welled up in his chest.

Lagor raised an eyebrow, then wagged his finger at Alex. “No, no, that’s bait. You’re gonna make me ask if you’re crazy and demand to know who you’re talking to.”

Alex’s smile faded.

“Then you’re gonna reveal that you’re talking to…oh! Oh!” Lagor threw a startled look at Claygon. “By mana and iron, is he thinking now?”

Alex’s mood soured a little, and he crossed his arms. “Well, now that you’ve taken all the surprise out of it, yes! Yes he’s got a mind! Say hello, Claygon.”

The golem waved at the crowd, shocking them into silence. From across the workshop, Toraka Shale’s footsteps quickened and her bloodshot eyes grew wider. ‘Oooos and ‘Aahhs spread through the crowd as Alex took out a pen and notebook, handing them to his golem.

“Say hello, buddy,” he said proudly. “And, just to make sure you all know I’m not trying to pull anything sneaky, I’ll close my eyes.”

Alex pressed his hands to his eyelids. “I want one of you to write down a question for Claygon to answer while I step out of this circle with my eyes closed and my body facing away. That way you’ll know that I’m not making him respond. You’ll know that it’s all him.”

He took a step forward. “Coming through, make way, make way!”

Alex stepped into the crowd, listening to their murmurs as they shuffled aside, making room for him to pass. He subtly angled his body so that he’d cross paths with the source of a certain set of footsteps approaching the circle. A certain set of quick footsteps belonging to Toraka Shale.

He stopped when she did, very aware that she stood close to his side, though he was sure she hadn’t noticed, her eyes, no doubt, still fixed on his wonderful golem.

And so he waited for Claygon to write his greeting, he’d know for sure when—

Cheers and vigorous applause rose from the crowd.

And there it was.

‘Good job, Claygon, they love you,’ he thought. ‘Now you just need to answer whatever question they write down for you.’

This…I like this…father.

‘I’m glad you do,’ he sent the thought to Claygon.

‘And I’m also glad for what’s coming next,’ he thought to himself, needle-focused on Toraka’s reaction. She’d gasped, letting out a small cry of surprise at the golem’s greeting, but he knew that what was coming next would really impress her.

For now, he wasn’t sure if she fully believed that Claygon had awakened to true sapience; after all, what she’d seen so far could have been replicated with a few tricks.

Lagor had told him of a time when charlatans would travel from noble house to noble house, claiming to have an intelligent golem available for purchase. They would be invited into the halls of great lords and ladies to demonstrate their claims.

And demonstrate they would.

Their golems would answer questions designed to test their skills.

Their golems would identify matching images from a series of paintings.

Their golems would sort out words that were written in hard to decipher handwriting then rewrite them in proper form.

When all the tests were completed, and the amazed whispers were hushed, it would appear that the charlatan hadpresented a sapient golem to these men and women of power.

And then the bidding would start.

The charlatan would take the small fortune they’d been offered for such a prize, then wander off into the wilderness. It was only when the lord or lady tried to speak to their new golem or get it to perform some complex task that they realised the truth: that their golem was no cleverer than a boulder.

The skill-testing question? Answered by the charlatan, who would listen closely and direct their golem on how to answer.

The matching of paintings? The charlatan would simply stand beside the golem, peeking through their eyelids and guiding the construct to the correct paintings to point to.

The scrambled words? A quick peek at the page let the charlatan instruct their golem on the correct wordsto write in clear lettering.

And, then the charlatan would just let human nature take its course, allowing a little phenomenon that Professor Jules hated do the rest of the work: a pesky little thing called ‘confirmation bias’. The swindler would then leave the noble household far richer than when they’d first come to the door, the lord or lady would have a cheap, shoddy golem they’d overpaid for, and that would be the end of that.

Of course, until the lords and ladies caught on and chased the charlatans away or left the room during their miraculous tests. When the truth was revealed, the lord or lady would be the proud owner of a severed head, while the charlatan…well, they’d be down one head.

These days, any crafter in Generasi with half a brain would know to watch for such tricks, and he knew Toraka would be no exception.

And so, the right moment to strike would be…

“Oooooh! It’s real!” Lagor cried. “He answered the question, it’s real!”

Cries of excitement rose from the crowd, and this time, Toraka was shouting excitedly with them.

‘Now. Now is the time,’ he thought, turning toward Toraka and opening his eyes.

His boss of bosses was staring at Claygon with her jaw hanging open.

She looked close to drooling.

Good. That was just the reaction he needed.

He cleared his throat as the crowd swarmed Claygon, peppering the golem with all manner of questions, and excited congratulations.

“Boss,” he said. “Do you have a bit of time before you go home?”

He fought to keep his face a mask of calm; he knew damn well that she had time: they’d just finished a massive order and her workload would have eased for a bit.

“Hm?” She murmured, bloodshot eyes still fixed on Claygon.

“Mrs. Shale, I’d like to talk to you about something, privately,” he said, putting a bit of urgency in his voice.

Finally, she managed to tear her eyes away from Claygon, blinking for the first time in what seemed like minutes. “Oh yes, I do have some time. I…do, have some questions for you too. Well, more than ‘some’.”

“Perfect, and I imagine that you do,” he said.

Already her eyes were back on the golem.

He fought down a smile. ‘The fish has bitten. Now to land it.’

“Do you drink, Mr. Roth? Or do you prefer Alex?” Toraka Shale asked, opening a cabinet that revealed row upon row of fine liquor.

“Oh, Alex is fine,” he said. “And I do drink. I mean, I am a student, after all.”

“Yes…” She paused. “One could almost forget that at times. Hmmmm. Vodka? Whiskey? Rum? Falernum?”

“Ummmmm, surprise me?” He said.

“Hmmmm, let’s see. You’re Thameish. I have a lovely scotch that you might enjoy.”

She took out the bottle of amber coloured liquid, pouring him a drink in a crystal glass.

He took it, giving it a sip and appreciating the flavour. It was good. Very smooth.

“Oh, it’s delicious,” he said warmly, his words building the connection between them. Building rapport.

She gave a curious glance to the door as she sat behind her desk. “Is Claygon alright by himself?”

“One sec,” he said.

‘Are you alright down there, buddy?’ he asked.

‘Yes…father. This…warm feeling,’ Claygon thought.

‘I’m happy you’re having fun,’ Alex thought.

“Yeah, he’s just fine,” he said to Toraka. “I think he likes the attention.”

“I see.” She shook her head in amazement. “Mr. Roth, I’ve been working in this business for a long time. Do you know how many golems I’ve seen awaken to sapience?”

“How many?” he asked.

She held up two fingers, wiggling them. “And one of them happens to be Claygon.”

“That few?” He blinked in surprise.

“Yes,” she said. “This is going to spread across the city. And…well, my questions can come later. For now, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, it’s simple.” He took another sip of scotch. “I’ve been working here for about a year now, and I’ve taken leadership among Lagor’s assistants for a lot of the projects. Have you read his report on my performance?”

“I have,” she said neutrally.

“Then you’ll know I’ve exceeded expectations in every category,” he said, then began to list his accomplishments over the past year, calling on the Mark while focusing it on the purpose of ‘presenting himself’.

He took the images it presented of everything he’d achieved at the workshop, transforming them into a case that built his value with every word.

This was not the time to be modest, and—by the time he’d finished—he felt rather good about himself. Shale, though…her face was a stoic mask during his entire presentation.

But that was alright, he’d expected that.

“—and that’s why,” he said. “And considering what Claygon and I have accomplished together, I’d like a raise.”

And so he’d made his case, and he ran through different scenarios as he waited for her response.

If she said yes, they’d negotiate.

If she threw out a low number, he’d haggle a little.

If she said no, then he would start looking into the other golem workshops in the city.

In the end, the raise itself didn’t matter that much; it simply would mark the first step, the first successful negotiation between himself and his boss. It was needed for the next few steps in his actual plan for building wealth.

Shale took a deep breath. “I’m afraid…I can’t give you a raise as a Crafter’s assistant, not with your track record.”

He fought to keep his face straight; after all, he was prepared for this.

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but she beat him to it.

“But what would you say to a promotion, instead?” Toraka Shale asked.