Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) by John Hindmarsh

grasp, the flow accelerated and left him lagging behind and more and more perturbed. The movement continued, segued into loud hammering and suddenly changed to a heavy and repetitive knocking. The flow of indecipherable symbols jumped and faded, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. He struggled with the heavy muffling blanket of exhausted sleep. The knocking continued and he opened his eyes, realizing he was no longer dreaming.
    He struggled to the door and checked the door spy. He then fumbled with catches and deadlocks and opened the door. He blinked at the sight of the two brightly colored aliens.
    “Come in, Tziksis. Sorry for the delay. I was in the middle of a very strange dream. I trust you found a good tailor for me?”
    He stood back to allow Tziksis and his companion to enter. They were trailed by a string of self-propelled units that he realized contained the stock in trade of the alien tailor.
    “Oh youth highness, my paltry fellow Dnarsis be an unworthy tailor but perhaps with fortune, in his clothes and needles, you will discover something worthy.”
    Steg examined and selected new clothes and the two aliens bargained and bickered, clicking and wheezing. Occasionally Tziksis translated for Steg. “This poorly colored creature bankruptcy claims, young human master. But he has profits enough for many such tailors, well Tziksis knows. Broken he will not be if our fair price agreed is.” Two sets of eyestalks bobbed and swayed as they regarded Steg anxiously.
    “Your price must be fair, Tziksis,” he instructed. He avoided the furious exchange that followed. At last honor was satisfied, and once the automated tailor bot made adjustments, Steg possessed a replenished wardrobe. The tailor was happy with his profit and Tziksis would see a commission from the tailor for finding a customer, and from Steg, his master. Eventually the door closed behind the tailor and his self-propelled showroom, and Tziksis fussed and folded or hung the new acquisitions.
    After an early dinner Steg retired for the night; however his attempts to sleep were fruitless and he tossed and turned. Each time he managed to cross that indefinable border into sleep, the rushing word strips reappeared and worried him back to wakefulness. Each time the colors glowed with increasing intensity, emphasizing the urgency of the strange message. The word strips spiraled into a huge funnel and Steg could feel himself being drawn into its unknown depths, down and down, until he was surrounded by spinning and spiraling word strips. Each time his alarmed rejection brought him awake just as he was about to drop into the blackness that he knew awaited him at the bottom of the funnel.
    He sat on the edge of his bed and silently acknowledged he was becoming more and more concerned. Perhaps some danger was looming, perhaps this nightmare struggle was some form of premonition. He was not ready to attempt to sleep again.
    As he stirred the little alien clattered into his room, an anxious expression on his face. “Oh master youth, problem has?”
    “Yes. I keep seeing an urgent message as I try to fall asleep. The words travel past far too quickly for me to read the symbols or understand the words. Perhaps I am just tired,” he explained.
    The alien clicked his concern and proceeded with a jumbled interrogation and Steg tried to explain something he could not understand. How, he wondered, could he explain the unknown? He stood and gazed out at the Altherean night, watching as the city lights were extinguished. The hour was late. He needed his sleep. And he could not explain the inexplicable. He could not identify any reason for his nightmare. Eventually his weariness overtook his fears and he returned to his bed. This time he managed to sink into a deep and undisturbed slumber that carried him through the remainder of the night.
    The next morning Steg decided he should carry out the next phase of the plan prepared by the Complex. He needed to discover