“Forgiveness, but a minute ago you didn’t know what a spoon was.”

“Yes, but I know how to say 'intellectually stimulating' and 'refuse.' Let’s call it a tie.”

Lindon nodded to the glowing purple water. “You changed after falling in the well?”

“It's designed to boost focus and eliminate mental fatigue in humans,” Dross said. “One sip, and you'll be able to work all night at peak efficiency! That was part of my pitch for the water, back in my prime.”

Lindon moved a little closer to the pool. “Well then, I think I might try a taste.” There were elixirs that refined the mind, and they were expensive.

“If anything, it will make you more alert and focused. Might even make you smarter, which ah...no offense, but...I mean, you should just take a drink. Let's leave it at that. Vials are over there on the shelf to your right.”

Lindon found a rack of thumb-sized metal vials, capped in a substance that felt like wax. He pulled off the cap and dipped it into the well; a small amount splashed on his thumb, but it still felt like normal water.

He still had his misgivings about drinking a strange purple liquid, but he felt nothing sinister from the well. And it was obviously here for a reason; to water the workers made sense. If others had drunk from this, he could as well.

Also, the thirst was starting to get painful.

He tipped his head back and swallowed the mouthful of water from the flask. He expected a stronger flavor, somehow, or some rush of power, but it was just water. It had the mineral taste of spring-water.

An instant later, the effects kicked in.

His thoughts sharpened. The mental haze of exhaustion was swept away. The world around him was clear, like his eyes had been cleaned out, and he took a breath of air like it was his first.

Little Blue scurried up his back and onto his head, leaning over to give him a pat on the forehead.

“I told you,” the construct said. “Invigorating power to keep those motivated movers moving and those tired thinkers thinking. That was one of the mottos I was working on for the Dream Well, what do you think?”

“It's like a full night's sleep in a bottle,” Lindon said, staring into the empty vial.

“Oh, that’s a good motto for the well. I’ll use that. The water also helps you focus when you're distracted, approach complex problems with new inspiration, or you can freeze it into little bits of ice and use it to make an ordinary drink glow purple.”

Lindon filled the vial.

“Now, it is incredibly valuable. I'll have to check and see if you have authorization to take a second...oh, you're drinking it. You're already drinking it.”

The second draught didn't seem to have much effect. It was mostly like taking a refreshing drink of ordinary water.

“I didn't get much from that. How long before it will have the same effect again?”

“However long it takes a human to get tired, I guess. When you're already focused and alert, I'm not sure what else it could possibly do for you. That's a thousand high-grade scales per dose, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

There was a whole shelf of similar vials, and Lindon was already filling them. When he looked at the purple rivulets on the floor, it physically pained him to imagine how much of this precious elixir had been wasted down drainage grates over the years.

“Has no one else been down here?” He couldn't imagine that other sacred artists would leave a treasure like this alone.

“I'm not sure, to be honest. No one's been in here since I've woken up, but it's not as though I could see much from inside the well.”

Lindon stoppered a vial and grabbed the rusty ball. “You’re a memory construct, aren’t you?”

“You’re carrying me. What’s happening? This is a rush! But maybe slow it down.”

Lindon took him to a shelf where a half-crushed wooden box waited. “Do you know what sort of construct this was?”

“It stored visual records from the rest of the facility. Most of these did, actually.”

Lindon extended his spiritual perception through the box. It felt like Dross, so this should work. “Do you think you could read these fragments?” When he’d inspected the room before, none of the constructs had been intact enough for him to use. Maybe Dross could get something out of them.

“I’m not, ah…well, you’re putting me on the spot, aren’t you? I could give it a try, but I don’t perform well under pressure.”

There was one intact circle on the remaining half of the wood, and Lindon scratched it with his thumb. Instantly, a ribbon of half-formed images drifted up through the box in a cloud, dissipating into the air.

“Wait, we’re starting? Put me over it, quick! Quick!”

When Lindon held Dross over the smoke-like memories, the construct made a gasping sound. Instead of blowing apart, the images drifted into the cracks in the construct shell.

Lindon pressed his eye against one of the cracks, fascinated. As the images soaked into the purple light that made up Dross, they merged into him. New lines formed in the purple cloud, and new lights sparkled inside the construct.

“Mmmmmm ah, that goes down smooth.”

“Does it feel like you’re eating it?” Many constructs of similar function could merge with one another, but it had never occurred to him to wonder what it might feel like for the construct.

“Didn't have too many memories left in that one, actually, so there was nothing too special about it. It's like when humans share blood.”

“Humans don't share blood.”

“They should. Anyway, I now have access to some facility history records. After Ghostwater was sealed away, some Heralds came and looted the place. They had a few sips from the well, but it didn't matter to them. They're Heralds, aren't they? Probably don't ever sleep anyway. Oh, I see it now! One of them is picking me up! Hello, me!”

He was silent for a moment, then added, “Well, that's a bit disappointing, isn't it? He tossed me into the well. Ouch. Rejection. Never feels good. I wasn't me back then, but even so: painful.”

“When did you wake up?”

“Take me over to the one that looks like a...shelled pinching beast.” Lindon carried Dross over to the crab-shaped construct he'd set aside before, and once again Dross inhaled the remainder of the construct.

Again, Lindon watched Dross' internal mechanisms grow more complex as he breathed in the dream madra.

His mother would have given five years of her life to see this.

“...fifty-six years,” Dross said quietly. “That's how long I've been stuck in that well alone. Wow. Best I can tell, I've only been myself for the last five or so. That's the oldest memory I have.”

Lindon looked over the shelves upon shelves of other memory constructs. “These all have information about Ghostwater?”

“Sure they did, once. This habitat was the headquarters of a project meant to design and improve memory constructs to accomplish the grand work. Never succeeded. Turns out, when they put a memory construct into your head, you just end up with a better memory.”

“I'm going to want to hear more about the 'grand work,' Lindon said, staring up at the shelves. “But first, do you have room for more?”