Ascent: (Book 1) The Ladder by Anthony Thackston Page B

of metal. Inside the cut-outs stand what look like men made of a similar metal. They have all of the same features as people. Arms, legs, hands, feet and heads. They even seem to have eyes and mouths. The metal men stand silently in their cut-outs. A cable lies at the feet of each of them. Joe reaches in cautiously to rap his knuckle on one of them. It’s very solid.
                “Wardens. That is what they were called. The original jailers of the prison.” Scraggle walks behind Joe and looks at the metal men. “Of course they’re just robots.”
                “Robots?”
                “They look like men but they are neither living nor dead. They were never alive. Think of them like the carts of the Mine. Only these perform tasks independent of human help.”
                “What did they do?”
                “The Wardens were the stewards of the jail beneath our feet,” Scraggle explains.
                “Jail? You mean the Mines?”
                Scraggle walks out of the hall and back to the couch to sit.
                “The Mines. They were not always so. There was a time when what lies beneath our feet was a prison. A jail. A place for criminals and, sadly for them, laboratory patients, to be held in captivity. The Wardens saw to it that everyone remained obedient and orderly. A task difficult for anyone. The Wardens, though, have no capacity for reason and are, of course, far stronger and more resilient than any human. Making them perfect to guard the jail,” Scraggle explains as Joe walks further into the hallway.
    “One is missing,” Joe calls out from the hallway.
    “I’d forgotten about that. After the shutdown of the jail, before it became the Mines, all of the Wardens were called back for shutdown. We couldn’t have them running around in the Mines with children down there. One of them never came back. Perhaps it ran out of battery life. A mystery never solved,” Scraggle explains to Joe who walks back into the room. “Would you be so kind as to close the door to the Warden Hall?”
                “How would I do that?” Joe asks.
                “The same way you opened it,” Scraggle says with a smile.
                Joe looks back at the door and then at the black wall. The light is still on. He approaches it and places his hand in the same spot as before. The same sound occurs as before, repeats and then the door slowly falls back to the floor.
                “It is truly a relief to see that it works. After all these years I wasn’t sure it would.”
                “What, the door?” Joe responds, unclear as to what Scraggle is talking about.
                Rising from the couch and walking to the edge of the black wall, Scraggle begins to explain. “Let me show you.” He looks around at the wall, searching for something. “Ah, yes. Here we are. Please, join me.”
                Joe walks to Scraggle.
                “Now if you’ll just stand here.” Scraggle positions Joe two feet in front of the wall. “Excellent. Now, place your right hand—this one.” The old man lifts Joe’s right hand. “Place it on the wall and hold it there.”
                Joe does as Scraggle requests. At first nothing happens. Joe looks at Scraggle for an explanation.
                “One more moment,” Scraggle tells him.
                A faint light grows in the black. Its height and width are exactly that of Joe. An image starts to form.
                “It can sometimes be a slow process. Especially if you are new,” Scraggle says before a perfect image of Joe appears on the wall.
                Joe jerks his hand back and steps away. The image starts to fade but Scraggle grabs Joe’s hand and places it back on the wall.
                “Dear boy, I never considered the