Imperial Chapter Bookkeeper With Servitor

Twin brothers entered the cult of the Machine. Both were improved. Only one was permitted to keep his mind.

The record is brief, as good records are. Twin acolytes, one genome, delivered to the chapter in the same crate of tithed flesh. The elder tested high in retention and pattern recital and was assigned to the archive, where he was taught that knowledge is holy, that flesh forgets, and that his duty was to transcribe what the Machine deems worth keeping onto media more reliable than a brain. The younger tested high in bone density and low in everything else. The chapter does not waste. He was scheduled for conversion within the week.

There was no tribunal, no tragedy, no farewell. The cult does not mourn a successful procedure. The younger twin's face was sealed behind a riveted mask, his questions with it. His arms and legs were exchanged for four piston-driven blade limbs, his spine reinforced to bear the weight of a consecrated archive-arch, and his designation stamped where his name used to be. The paperwork lists the operation as an improvement, because it was: he is stronger now, obedient now, and free of doubt, fear, and every other malfunction of the meat. Assignment to his twin was not sentiment. Identical genome, identical immune profile, simplified maintenance. Efficiency, nothing more.

So they process the vaults together. The Bookkeeper, ancient and bent, dictates through the key-array bolted to his chest, mechanical fingers striking record onto the sanctified scroll that spills down his back, a skull-crowned halo marking his office. Beside him walks the carrier: a masked quadruped of muscle and steel, bearing the gothic arch of the mobile archive on its shoulders, its hooked forelimbs equally suited to climbing the data-stacks and to opening whatever interrupts its master's work. He does not grieve the thing at his side. Grief is a flaw of the flesh, and he is working diligently to earn its removal. If he has one unrecorded thought, it is this: his brother was found worthy of full communion with the Machine decades before him. He files this thought under envy, and envy under weakness, and continues typing.

Part of the Old but Gold series: a classic set from our back catalog, restored for everyone who missed it the first time. Two models: the robed Chapter Bookkeeper with his chest-mounted transcription engine, and the four-legged archive-carrier servitor. A natural pair for any force that prays to engines: archive scenes, headquarters, objective markers, or wherever the flesh is weak.

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