Everson walked warily forward, his mind still in a slight state of confusion. When he passed the pedestal, the door before him slid open, a percussive crack and a grating scrape the only indication that it had been centuries closed. He could now see clearly into the second chamber, devoid not only of character but, thankfully, corpses. He was about to cross the threshold when the orb flitted in front of him.

“What now?” asked the rightfully paranoid prince.

The orb quickly retrieved Everson’s apron from the floor with an appendage and returned it to him. Everson took it with a small nod of thanks. The orb nodded in return and moved to the side, indicating that Everson was now free to proceed. The prince, still not without reservation, passed through the portal and into the second chamber.

He jumped as the door loudly scraped shut behind him, blocking any exit. Everson frowned in resignation and then waited for a moment for his heart to return to regular rhythm. There was no way to go now but forward.

There was nothing to see in the chamber save a lone table sitting in its center, simple and without adornment. Everson looked around and noticed there wasn’t a chair.

He approached the table, perused it quickly and deduced only one use for it. He spread the apron on it, making sure to smooth it neatly as the orb had done. He stepped back, waiting to see if the blue grid would appear. Everson tensed, a rippling of pimpled skin descending his neck as if cold water had been dribbled on the crown of his head. Something or someone had moved up directly behind him.

He turned quickly to his right, but the figure was quicker. Everson surveilled the blank corner of the chamber behind his right shoulder. Positive that he was not alone, he spun to the left, but again, the stranger was nowhere to be found.

Instead of turning back around, Everson warily circled in the same direction, scanning the back of the chamber for the threat he was certain was there. It proved to be an unfortunate maneuver, since whatever it was smoothly slid the soldier’s sword from its scabbard from behind him.

Everson spun around, shocked to be facing a person of equal stature and terrified to see that she brandished his sword above her head. Not a person, he realized. She was obviously made of some metallic alloy. Her face and body were silver in color and elaborately constructed with intricate detail. The serene, almost kind, features of its face were undoubtedly feminine, framed by flowing metal locks so finely wrought as to seem almost fluid.

Instead of cleaving Everson’s head in two, the android inexplicably turned the tip of the sword toward her own face. Everson watched in confused amazement as she pushed the sword into her own mouth. The blade disappeared slowly in a glow of molten metal and spitting sparks until there was nothing left but the hilt. The android then casually tossed the useless hilt aside, turned to face Everson, and held her hand to her mouth. Everson half-expected her to burp.