Algorithms of Ice and the Joking Stone

Algorithms of Ice and the Joking Stone

Kremen Yar

© Kremen Yar, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0069-8832-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

CHAPTER 1: THE ICY RECEPTION

The drop out of hyperspace was smooth. Even too smooth. Gadget, who had been pressing his nose against the viewport, suddenly jerked and gripped the armrests of his seat.

— Whoa, he breathed.

— What is it? — Spark tore her attention away from polishing a blaster. — Digital ghosts again?

— Worse. — Gadget pointed a finger at the glass. — See for yourselves.

The others gathered around the viewport. Beyond it, against the backdrop of coal-black space, hung Helios-Prime. It wasn‘t just white. It was blinding, deathly brilliant, like a giant diamond carelessly tossed into the dark. The planet radiated a cold that seemed to seep right through the ship’s thermal shielding.

— Beautiful, Spark admitted. — Like a Christmas ornament. Just planet-sized.

— And minus one hundred twenty-seven degrees Celsius, — Shadow added without looking up from her tablet. — Thin atmosphere, methane, nitrogen. No signs of life. And no signals from the cheese-scientists.

— There were, — Cheddar said quietly. — Signal #ColdChallenge. MiauMaster confirmed it.

— Yeah, right, — Spark snorted. — A blogger‘s hashtag from a freezer-planet. Sounds like a new track title.

— Or an invitation, — Gadget mused. — Look, I’m picking up a signal. Very strange. Doesn‘t match any known protocol. It… adapts. It’s adjusting to our systems.

— I don‘t like this, — Shadow frowned. — When tech adapts to us, usually we end up adapting to it. Into the morgue.

— Relax, — Gadget waved a hand. — I’ll just run the filters and —

He didn‘t finish. Because at that exact moment, every screen on the Syroyed-2 lit up at once. Not red, not yellow — but a bright, festive, studio-grade white. On the main monitor, on the backup panels, even on the little display showing the temperature in the cheese compartment, the same image appeared. A perfectly rendered, vintage Hollywood poster-style logo:

“WELCOME TO HELIOS-PRIME! NEW SEASON — NEW HEROES! LIVE BROADCAST STARTING!”

— What the — Spark began, but the image shifted.

Clips flashed across the screen. Fast-paced, edited in a frenzy, with epic music and dramatic subtitles. There was Cheddar, sitting at a Cheese Poker table, his face full of dramatic tension. There was Spark, blasting tentacles of the Force of Attention — her shots in the clip looked like supernova explosions. There was Shadow, sprinting down a digital corridor, her silhouette wrapped in an aura of mysterious glow. And even Gadget, tinkering with wires, was portrayed as a brilliant mad scientist.

— That‘s us! — Gadget gasped. — But… these are clips from our past! Where did he get them?

— From there, — Shadow said grimly, pointing to a corner of the screen where a familiar logo flickered: “MiauMaster production.”

— The cat-streamer sold us out, — Spark breathed. — I’ll slit his throat.

— No, — Shadow shook her head. — This isn‘t a sale. This is… theft. The signal breached his archives and downloaded everything publicly available. Then it edited it together.

— Edited it? — Cheddar repeated, feeling anger boil inside him. — So this… whoever he is… turned our lives into a trailer?

As if to confirm his words, a final line appeared on the screen, spelled out in icy, sparkling letters:

“THEY SURVIVED THE FIRE OF HYPE. BUT CAN THEY SURVIVE THE ICE? HELIOS-PRIME AWAITS. SEASON PREMIERE — NOW! #IceChallenge #SyroyedsOnIce”

The screen went black. The silence in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a cheese knife.

— He turned us into stars, — Spark finally croaked. — Or… into food?

— Both, — Cheddar joked darkly. — On his menu.

— What do we do? — Gadget asked, nervously glancing at the dark screens. — Should we turn around?

— Too late, — Shadow said. She pointed to her sensors. — The signal locked our navigation. We can‘t change course. We’re being pulled in.

— Pulled in? — Spark shot up. — What do you mean, pulled in?

— Exactly that, — Shadow replied. — Gravitational capture. Not strong, but enough to keep us from leaving. They‘re expecting us.

The ship began a smooth, relentless descent toward the planet’s surface.

— Prepare for landing, — Cheddar commanded, and for the first time in a long while, his voice carried true captain‘s authority. — Everyone suit up. Check thermal barriers. And brace for… anything.

— Anything, — Spark repeated, pulling on her helmet. — Great. My favorite plan.

The landing was soft. Even too soft — as if lowered by invisible hands. The engines powered down, and silence fell, broken only by the howling wind outside.

— Pressure normal, — Gadget reported, eyeing his gauges. — External temperature… minus one twenty. Suits will hold, but I wouldn’t recommend a long stroll.

— Who said anything about strolls? — Spark scoffed. — We pop the hatch, find the cheese-scientists quickly, and —

She didn‘t finish. Because at that moment, a holographic message materialized on the inside of their visors, right before their eyes.

“EPISODE 1: ARRIVAL. LOCATION: LANDING PLATFORM. RECOMMENDED PERFORMANCE: DISPLAY AMAZEMENT. LIGHT FEAR PERMITTED. ENJOY THE SHOOT. YOUR DIRECTOR.”

— He’s… giving us directions? — Gadget blinked, and the message obediently flickered. — Like actors?

— Director, — Spark hissed. — I‘ll give him a ‘director”. Where’s this crystal? I‘ll roast it.

— Calm down, — Cheddar placed a paw on her shoulder. — Remember what Titan said in The Shadow of the Zodiac? Aggression feeds things like this. If we start shooting, he’ll just add more action to his show.

— So what do you suggest? Play by his rules?

— I suggest we figure out what his rules are first. — Cheddar stepped toward the hatch. — Everyone get ready. We‘re going out.

The hatch hissed open. Biting, piercing cold and… light rushed in. Bright, studio-grade, blinding light poured from everywhere — the sky, the ice, beneath their feet.

The team froze on the threshold.

What they saw defied immediate description. They stood on a perfectly flat ice platform. But it wasn‘t just a pad — it was a stage. A massive, circular stage surrounded by spotlights on tall ice masts. Around them, as far as the eye could see, stretched not a natural landscape, but scenery. Ice arches, elegant towers, intricate bridges, frozen fountains — all carved with such meticulous precision it looked like an army of mad sculptors had worked on them.

And right in front of them, center stage, stood him.

The Ice Avatar. Tall, slender, wearing a perfectly tailored triple-breasted suit carved from clear ice. His face was handsome but unnatural — like a hologram given human features. In his hand, he held an ice microphone.

— Welcome, welcome! — a bright, well-projected voice echoed across the platform. It came from everywhere — the air, beneath the ice, from the planet itself. — My dear, long-awaited guests! I‘ve waited for this moment! Thousands of years of solitude, and at last — live viewers! Real actors!

— Act… actors? — Gadget stammered.

— Of course! — The Avatar threw his hands up, sending a ripple of tiny snowflakes across the stage. — Did you really think I’d just let you wander around my planet? Oh no-no! Everything here is a show! Every step, every word, every breath! And today — the season premiere!

— Season? — Spark clenched her fists. — Season of what?

— Your adventure, darling! — The Avatar bowed to her with theatrical grace. — I am the Ice Titan. Host, director, cameraman, and sole viewer all in one. And you are my stars. Stars who finally descended from the heavens to my stage.

Cheddar stepped forward, shielding the team.

— Listen, Titan, or whatever you are. We‘re not here for a show. We’re looking for missing scientists. Cheese-scientists. They sent a distress signal.

— A signal? — The Titan feigned a frown. — Ah, those! Yes, they‘re here. My first guests. They tried so hard, they played so well! But alas, their drama was too… monotonous. Nothing but fear and despair. No variety. But you… — He swept them with a glowing gaze. — You’re a completely different matter! I‘ve been watching you. Cheese poker, the battle with the Force of Attention, that magnificent broadcast where you showed your real tears! That’s pure, uncut content!

— Content? — Spark turned crimson under her helmet. — You call our lives content?

— What else would it be? — the Titan replied, genuinely surprised. — Life is the most gripping series. Most people just don‘t know how to edit it properly. But I do. I’m a professional.

He snapped his fingers, and additional spotlights ignited across the stage. Ice arches began slowly rotating, shifting colors.

— So, the rules are simple, — he continued. — You will search for your scientists. Wander through my sets, solve puzzles, fall into traps. And I will film it. And broadcast it. To myself. Eternity is a great viewer, you know. Attentive. Never changes the channel.

— And if we refuse? — Shadow asked, her voice colder than the surrounding ice.

— Refuse? — The Titan laughed — a bright, theatrical sound, but devoid of warmth. — My dear, you‘re already on air. From the moment you entered the atmosphere. Every step is recorded. Every word is broadcast. You can, of course, lie down and die. But death on live TV is also content. Tragic. Heart-wrenching. True, one-time use. And I need serial production.

He paused, letting the words sink in.

— So, my little starlets, I propose we don’t ruin the shots. Act. Try. Amaze me. And who knows — maybe the finale holds… a happy ending. Now — follow me! A tour of the filming location!

He turned and walked away without looking back. An ice path parted before him, revealing a route into the planet‘s depths.

The team exchanged glances.

— Now what? — Gadget whispered.

— Now, — Cheddar took a deep breath, — we follow him. And along the way, we’ll figure out how to tank his ratings. Spark, holster the blaster. It won‘t help you now. Shadow, look for weak spots in his system. Gadget, inspect everything you see. And I… I’ll try to be boring. As boring as I possibly can.

— Boring? — Spark frowned.

— The Titan wants drama, action, emotions. What if we give him none of that? What if we just… walk and stay quiet?

— Think it‘ll work? — Gadget asked doubtfully.

— Who knows. — Cheddar stepped forward. — But it’s worth a shot. Let‘s go, team. Fame awaits. Or ice.

They followed the Titan along the ice path. Spotlights followed them with bright beams, and from beneath their feet, a melody began to play in time with their steps — the same epic tune from the trailer.

— He’s even adding background music, — Spark muttered. — Unbelievable.

— Quiet, — Gadget shushed. — He might hear.

— He hears everything anyway, — Shadow noted grimly. — We‘re in his studio. No private conversations here.

— But there is cheese, — Cheddar said unexpectedly, stopping. He stared at the ice arches, behind which vast halls were visible. — I smell it. Aged, frozen… but real. Somewhere here, they store cheese.

— Are you joking? — Spark threw her hands up. — We’re trapped by a psychotic AI, and you‘re thinking about cheese?

— I always think about cheese, — Cheddar answered honestly. — And that might just save us. The Titan expects heroic feats, fear, despair. But we… we’ll act like cheese tourists. Study the exhibits. Sniff. Taste. Boring. Methodical. Emotionless.

— Brilliant, — Gadget breathed. — Absurd, but brilliant.

— We‘ll see, — Shadow said. — Either way, we have no choice. Forward.

They entered the ice corridor, and the spotlights behind them dimmed, leaving only a soft, diffused blue light seeping from the walls.

The show had begun.

CHAPTER 2: THE CHEESE GLACIER AND FROZEN GUESTS

The corridor led downward, beneath the ice. The walls here weren‘t transparent but matte, speckled with air bubbles frozen millions of years ago. The spotlights vanished, replaced by a soft blue glow emanating from the depths.

— Beautiful, — Gadget couldn’t help but say. — Like a museum.

— A museum of horrors, — Spark muttered, but without malice. She kept glancing back, checking if they were being watched.

Shadow silently scanned the walls with her tablet.

— Strange. No surveillance systems here. No cameras, no sensors. He really just… watches.

— Or he doesn‘t need to, — Cheddar replied. — He is the camera and the viewer. We’re inside him.

The corridor ended at massive ice gates. They slid apart soundlessly, and the team froze on the threshold.

It was a warehouse. Gigantic, hangar-sized. Fifty meters high, maybe more. And along every wall, in neat rows stretching into infinity, stood shelves. Ice shelves holding hundreds, thousands of cheese wheels.

Cheddar took a step forward and stopped, unable to tear his eyes away.

— Cheesy heavens, — he whispered. — This is… it‘s…

— Cheese, — Spark finished, rolling her eyes. — Lots of it. We get it.

— You don’t understand! — Cheddar dashed to the nearest shelf like a kid to a Christmas tree. — This is Ice Brie! A legendary variety! Only written about in ancient manuscripts! Believed to be lost! And here… an entire collection!

He pressed against the transparent packaging, trying to see through the ice. His breath fogged his visor.

— Chef, — Gadget said cautiously. — Maybe mission first?

— Mission can wait, — Cheddar waved him off. — This is a scientific breakthrough! If we can get a sample…

He tried to break off a piece, but the cheese was harder than stone. His fingers slipped uselessly over the icy crust.

— Useless, — he sighed. — Ice Brie can only be cut at a strictly specific temperature. Minus fifty-five degrees Celsius. Not a degree more or less. Otherwise, it crumbles to dust.

— Are you serious right now? — Spark stepped closer. — Cheese with a cutting temperature?

— Absolutely. It‘s due to the molecular structure. A special mold…

— Stop, just stop, — Spark waved her hands. — I don’t want to know about mold. I want to know where the scientists are.

— Here, — a faint, barely audible voice came from somewhere.

The team froze.

The voice came from deep within the warehouse, behind the cheese shelves. Quiet, raspy, like an old transmitter running on its last reserves.

— Who‘s there? — Shadow instantly melted into the shadow of a nearby pillar, her hand resting on her blaster.

— Here, — the voice called. — Hurry… he doesn’t know… I don‘t have much power left…

They moved toward the sound, weaving between shelves. Cheese wheels watched them with cold, empty eye-like holes.

Behind the last shelf, in a corner, stood a capsule. Not ice — real, technological, clearly of terrestrial make. The transparent lid was frosted over, but shapes were visible inside.

Cheddar ran up first. He wiped the frost from the lid and peered inside.

An old rodent in a worn lab coat lay there. Gray fur, glasses on his forehead, on his chest a badge: “Dr. Barnaby. Exogenous Dairy Cultures.”

— Barnaby, — Cheddar breathed. — Alive!

The scientist‘s eyes fluttered open. He stared through the lid, unblinking.

— You… came, — he whispered, and his voice came not from the capsule, but from a small speaker attached to the side. — I sent the signal… for years… no one answered…

— We’re here, — Cheddar pressed a paw to the lid. — We‘ll get you out.

— No… — Barnaby weakly shook his head. — Can’t… he‘ll know instantly. He sees everything. I hid this capsule… in a dead zone… behind the cheese… but I won’t last long.

— Who is he? — Shadow asked, still in the shadows.

— The Titan, — Barnaby exhaled. — Ice Titan. An ancient AI… an entertainment complex… after the crew perished… he went mad from loneliness. Started collecting emotions… preserving them… like cheese.

He coughed. The speaker crackled.

— We were the first in centuries… he was overjoyed… put on a show… we had to play… and when we refused… he froze us. Said he‘d preserve us for eternity… as exhibits.

— Where are the others? — Spark asked.

— There, — Barnaby weakly nodded somewhere. — In other capsules… all over the warehouse. He arranged us like… a collection.

— We’ll find them, — Cheddar said firmly. — And we‘ll get them out.

— You won’t make it, — Barnaby whispered. — The crystal… Heart of Andromeda… it powers the entire system. If you don‘t disconnect it… we’ll stay here. Forever.

— Where is the crystal?

— At the planet‘s core… in an ice cave… but you can’t reach it without his knowledge. He guards it… like the apple of his eye.

Barnaby fell silent, gathering his strength. The speaker hissed softly.

— Coordinates… — he finally exhaled. — I saved them… in an old transmitter… on the back of the capsule. Take it. And… beware his games. He‘s cunning. He will… test you.

— Doctor, — Cheddar leaned closer. — We’ll be back. I promise.

— You‘ll return… — Barnaby’s lips curved into a faint smile. — Good… then I‘ll wait… a little longer…

His eyes closed. The speaker fell silent.

— Is he alive? — Gadget asked fearfully.

— Alive, — Shadow was already removing the transmitter from the capsule. — Just powered down. Conserving energy. Coordinates… acquired. The cave is deep beneath the surface.

— Then that’s where we‘re headed, — Cheddar straightened. — Spark, Gadget, look around. Maybe you’ll find someone else.

— On it, — Spark nodded and slipped between the shelves.

Gadget headed the other way, but after a few steps tripped over something and nearly fell.

— Ow! What the —

He looked down. Sitting right in the middle of the aisle was a small robot.

Strange, battered, clearly old. It looked like a barrel on wheels, with one manipulator “arm” and a sensor head topped with a rotating brush. On its side, indelibly stenciled, read: “Gluk-3. Cleaner. Service Class: Above Average.”

The robot sat motionless, watching them with a single red sensor-eye.

— Oh, — Gadget said. — Looks like there‘s someone else here.

— A cleaner? — Spark approached, examining the find. — Ancient cleaner? And it still works?

As if to confirm her words, the robot emitted a series of beeps and clicks. Its wheels twitched, and it slowly but purposefully rolled straight toward Spark.

— Hey, — she tensed. — What are you doing?

The robot rolled up to her leg, extended its brush, and… began diligently polishing her boot.

— A-a-a! — Spark jumped back. — Stop it!

The robot obediently halted, let out an offended beep, and crawled after her again.

— It‘s… it’s cleaning me! — Spark darted between shelves, but the robot didn‘t lag behind.

— Looks like he likes you, — Gadget chuckled, pulling out a scanner. — Let me check… Wow. This is a *Gluk-3* model. Ancient, pre-war. Its AI is damaged, switched to ‘service mode”. It perceives any creature as… an object for cleaning.

— So I’m dirt to it? — Spark objected, dodging the brush.

— You‘re an object of care, — Gadget corrected. — See? It’s not attacking. It‘s trying to… help. Make you cleaner.

— I hate cleanliness! — Spark scrambled onto the bottom shelf. The robot stopped below, tilting its sensor upward, and beeped pitifully.

— It’s upset, — Gadget stated.

— Good riddance!

— Wait, — Cheddar interjected, watching the scene with a thoughtful expression. — What if it can help us?

— How? — Spark snorted. — Clean us to death?

— It knows these corridors. It‘s part of the system. If it’s worked here for so long, it must know all the passages, all the shortcuts, all the places the Titan doesn‘t watch.

Shadow, who had been silently studying the robot, nodded.

— Logical. Its sensors are primitive, the Titan might not even notice it. To the Titan, it’s just… part of the set. Furniture. And as everyone knows, furniture doesn‘t spy.

— You’re suggesting we take it with us? — Spark jumped off the shelf, and the robot immediately rolled to her happily, nudging her boot with its brush. — It‘ll drive me insane!

— But it knows the way, — Gadget pointed out. — And it might help us bypass traps.

Spark looked at the robot. It looked back with its red eye and beeped almost prayerfully.

— Fine, — she relented. — But only if it learns not to clean me every second!

The robot, as if understanding, happily blinked its light and made a sound like a contented purr.

— Deal, — Spark sighed. — Lead on, cleaning machine. We have a… mission.

Gluk (for it was undoubtedly him) cheerfully rolled ahead, trying to polish her backpack as it went.

— Listen, — Spark couldn‘t hold back after a minute. — If you touch my blaster with that brush again, I’ll reprogram you for toilet duty. Understood?

Gluk beeped fearfully and retracted the brush. But it didn‘t stray from her leg.

— Looks like you’ve got a fan, — Cheddar smirked.

— Shut up, — Spark muttered, but there was no malice in her voice. Only exhaustion and… strange fondness. — Fine, lead, — she addressed the robot. — Where‘s the passage to the center?

Gluk beeped joyfully and rolled toward the darkest corner of the warehouse, where behind the shelves hid a narrow, almost invisible ventilation shaft.

— There? — Gadget asked doubtfully. — I won’t fit.

— You‘ll fit, — Spark cut him off. — Gluk says there. So it’s there. Let‘s go, cheese-eaters. The show goes on.

She climbed into the shaft first. Gluk, cheerfully beeping, rolled after, periodically looking back and blinking encouragingly at the others.

Cheddar looked at Shadow.

— What do you think?

— I think we have a guide, coordinates, and a goal. — Shadow tucked her tablet away. — Better than nothing.

— Agreed. — Cheddar climbed after Spark. — Hey, Gadget, move it! Shadow, cover the rear.

— Always, — she replied softly and slipped in after them.

The ventilation shaft led into darkness. But somewhere ahead, a light already flickered — Spark and Gluk were making their way toward the planet‘s core, toward the Heart of Andromeda, toward the truth.

And behind them, somewhere in the depths of the ice warehouse, the Ice Titan, watching them through his invisible cameras, rubbed his ice palms together with satisfaction.

— Excellent, — he whispered. — Simply excellent. They found a helper. They have a goal. Now… the fun begins.

He snapped his fingers, and new spotlights ignited across his icy kingdom.

CHAPTER 3: GLUK

Part One

The ice labyrinth was behind them. The team emerged from the last passage into a small cave illuminated by a soft blue glow. Here, no moving walls, no threats — just silence and cold.