Perhaps the iconoclasts are right, he thought to himself as he glanced at the silent, masked auditor at the back of the room, Who are we to alter reality so fundamentally that we cannot look upon it?
Czigerrol, careful not to touch the front of the armor for fear of losing a hand, finished strapping it to the dummy and jogged back towards the other end of the room before the test could start. Sitting down at the a desk, he opened the log book. As he wrote the heading, he read it out to the other three researchers. The auditor's impassive and featureless mask nodded as he listened. "Terminal reduplication of erbe-haffcom ligation test one: minimally curved surface and high-velocity projectiles."
He was not exactly the head of the cell of four—part of the University's research policy was to discourage hierarchy among grammarians—but Czigerrol's textor thesis had given rise to the whole project. Despite serious discouragement from every one of his professors, he had decided all those years ago to pursue the veracity of certain pseudoglyphs. Expectedly, most had no discernible properties, but one in particular showed promise. It would have gone unnoticed if not for his almost compulsive habit of coin flipping: while investigating the leq glyph in common phrases he had a suspiciously long rash of raptor side up flips. Further experimentation with dice suggested that the grammar was affecting the outcomes and led down the path to today's refinements.
The leq's effect had been since directed and amplified with a particularly finicky collection of phrases. Changing a single glyph had sometimes unexpected effects. How exactly leq fit into the lexicon and what interaction rules it followed were still unclear which is why he and the rest of the cell were in a basement armed with crossbows being observed by an agent of the University administration.
"Heiiki, would you kindly take the stave down with you when you observe?" Czigerrol asked of the man standing closest to the workbench. A look of panic spread across Heiiki's face. Two iterations ago, the stave still had an unpleasant tendency to realign everything within two meters. Since then, the effect had been excluded from the volume within a meter, but the memories of the sounds the test animals had made before expiring were still fresh.
"Good textor, are you certain? Surely another round of trials would be wise before one of us tests it."
"Grammarian, the University is pressing us for results." He looked again to the silent auditor. "We have ample data to suggest that it is adequately safe for human use. Simply, we must demonstrate the feasibility of both the shield and stave or risk the dissolution of our cell. Heiiki, I would sooner risk my life than yours, but protocol requires that I remain scribe."
Heiiki wilted. "I understand and trust," he said contradicting himself with body language. He slung the collapsed stave's leather strap over his shoulder and trotted down to stand to the side of the target.
The textor dipped his pen into the ink well and tapped the excess from the tip, poised to record the data. "Heiiki, call out the commands," he shouted down to the man.
"Crossbow ready! Take aim! Release!" Heiiki did not turn to watch the incoming bolts, but instead fixed his eyes on the breastplate. Both bolts flew true and directly towards the target. As he watched, they hit the metal, but the target did not move from the impact. Instead, the shafts continued as though moving through the surface, appearing to shimmer and smear out across it almost as though melting into pools. They coalesced at different edges and flew off perpendicular to the original path, speed undiminished. Both ended their journey embedded in the wooden ceiling.
Heiiki whooped. This was the result that they had so desperately been attempting to achieve. He called out a concise and technical description for Czigerrol to write down. The textor could not help but beam while he noted the success and conditions of the test. The auditor moved in closer to read over his shoulder. How do these people see? Czigerrol wondered. The mask was as smooth and unbroken as an egg, its white surface matching the candida-bright leggings, vest, and loose shirt that were the hallmarks of the auditors. They officially collectively represented the impartiality of an auditor, but the unofficial understanding was that they intended to unnerve the subjects of an audit.
"Heiiki! Activate the stave and we'll finish this off," he shouted as he wrote the heading Terminal reduplication of erbe-haffcom ligation with gho addendum test one: vertical stave and high-velocity projectiles. At the other end of the room, Heiiki unshouldered the stave and flicked it out sharply, telescoping it to its full length. Kneeling, he held it vertically.
The extension brought the complicated phrases curved along its surface into alignment, activating the staff's grammar. From Czigerrol's perspective, a slight haze surrounded the researcher and stave as though their edges were bleeding and undefined. He nodded to his assistants who knocked their bolts then waved to Heiiki.
Heiiki was relieved that he was still alive, even if he was having trouble focusing on anything except the stave. The same sort of twist that light received from the breastplate saturated the air around him. This unreality was all the courage he would get as he called out, "Crossbow ready! Take aim! Release!" again.
Both bolts were aimed true at the space just above the grammarian's head but neither reached that point. On the approach to the stave, they became indistinct and swirled into eddies. The masses flowed almost languidly until they reached the edge of the field and then collapsed back into bolts which clattered harmlessly against the walls.
Heiiki carefully pushed the stave back down into its inactive state before standing, shaking slightly from the adrenaline in his bloodstream. As he looked up and began to walk back, he realized that someone was clapping slowly and deliberately. The entire cell was looking to the auditor who, contrary to all expectations, was apparently applauding the success. Abruptly and without warning, white figure stopped and strode from the room.
"Well," said Czigerrol dumbfounded, "I suppose that our cell has the continued support of the University then."
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