SEXT- Six Hours After Dawn

The blue syrup swirled down the drain at his feet, giving his small cell a comforting scent. He hated the waste. The monastery brewed the drug, Absent, at exorbitant expense for their evening ritual.

“Absent doesn’t work on me…”

He buckled a simple belt around his tunic, scooping the Commonplace Book up by its tether and securing it in his front pocket.

“…I remember everything.”

He whispered these words. The other monks didn’t know he was a machine. The Absent, which made them forget, assured his human disguise.

#

Stefen stood in the refectory reading the daily update, which was essential information to a population with a suppressed memory. Seventy-two yards of Tapestry had passed through the Davina Porta in the last 8 hours.

A record for the nuns of St. Elara.

He checked the work roster. The scriptorium was short of a monk. And of course, it was brother Efran. He was their senior encoder, a pressure filled job to be sure. Stefen prayed for patience as he made a mental list of Efran’s favorite hiding places. He’d wandered before. Averting his eyes from the images of future events, Stefen followed the glass-covered channel that moved the Tapestry through his monastery. He had to find Efran soon. Grignor complained when the Codex had to wait for its instructions.

#

Under the vaulted ceiling of the scriptorium, forty-seven monks perched on high stools at a long line of desks, scrutinizing the Tapestry, section by section. They interpreted its images, and with needle capped fingers, perforated code into long strips of parchment. When all the monks were encoding, the scriptorium filled with a cascade of snapping taps, like popcorn in a kettle, but less appetizing. Beakers of luciferin they harvested from fireflies, glowed with a yellow-green light from adjustable lamp-stands. Surrounded by parchment and in constant fear of fire, the monks had minimized the possibility of a spark.

Stefen walked through the ghoulish light toward a large desk, raised on a small platform at the head of the room. There, Master Reader engrossed himself in the study of a single scene from the Tapestry trapped underneath a protective panel of glass. The images on it twitched and shifted as he made notes for the encoders.

“Excuse me, Master Reader, have you seen Brother Efran?”

Master Reader lifted his head and picked crumbs from his luxuriant beard.

“Who is that? One of ours?”

“Yes, here is his picture, and I am Stefen,” said Stefen, displaying his Commonplace Book.

Master Reader looked at Stefen’s image and then Efran’s.

“I don’t remember seeing him.”

Stefen suppressed a grimace of frustration as he thanked Master Reader and walked past Efran’s empty desk on the way out. Perhaps Efran had gone for more luciferin. Stefen descended a narrow staircase, gripping the rusted iron railing as he trod on slimy steps. At the bottom landing, he entered the firefly hatchery through a netted curtain.

Three monks wearing long aprons and gauze masks tended swarms of fireflies darting over marshy basins scooped out of the stone floor. With practiced sweeps of their arms, they gathered the glimmering beetles into net bags and then crushed them in a mechanical press. Their shoes, covered with overflow, left glowing footprints on the floor.

Stefen pretended to look up their names. The oldest monk was Dominic, and the other two were Jon and Matteus.

“Have you seen Brother Efran?” Stefen asked, holding up his picture.

They looked at Efran’s image, conferring with glances and shrugs.

“No. Is he new?” asked Dominic.

“Not exactly,” said Stefen. Efren had been at St. Axion’s for two decades.

Sometimes the effects of Absent were permanent. The fly monks were among its victims. After an awkward silence, Stefen turned to walk away. They chorused as he left, waving glowing hands.

“Infinite blessings, brother.”

Blessings indeed. Stefen hoped he’d find one soon.

#

The Tapestry (part 2 of 9)

Previously in The Tapestry we have entered the world of Faith and met Sister Alyse, who has a dangerous secret.

The Tapestry is a science fantasy featuring hidden truth, secret identity, and last-minute rescue. Set in a clockwork world, it follows Alyse as she as she uncovers a break in the tapestry that runs her world, and Stefen — who isn't quite who he seems — racing to stop her before it all comes apart.

Ann Cudworth (also writing as A. C. Worth) is the author of short fiction in Metaphorosis Magazine, Exterus, and Sci-Fi Lampoon, and the anthologies Score—An SFF Anthology, Radicle, and Sages of Metaphorosis. She writes science fiction and urban fantasy, shaped by workshops at Odyssey Writing Workshop and the Sarah Lawrence Writing Institute, as well as Futurescapes and the Juniper Writing Institute.

Copyright 2026 Ann Cudworth. All rights reserved.
Read more at https://www.acworthwriter.com/