“The metal you are referring to is platinum, a precious earth metal resistant to corrosion, dense, ductile, malleable, and highly unreactive. It was once said to be the noblest of earth metals. An odd thing to focus on when your rebirth is imminent, but I can appreciate a thorough analysis of a subject. What are your other questions, young Witan?” The A.I. Rubix's digital voice replied concisely, giving Wit a similar feeling to the Guides, a sudden thought entered his mind.
He shifted back and forth on his tiptoes, an idea forming and solidifying in his head as he glanced at all three of the race options. He knew what he wanted, now it was all about getting it.
“Why are there only three options, this can't be everything there is to nature and the natural balance of Earth can it?” Wit asked.
“A fine question, these forms you see before you are a baseline before your further adaptation into the ecosystem. Isolating the genes and changing the host to be recognized as part of nature's natural cycle is an arduous task for all parties involved. Therefore by simplifying the choices available we simplify the process and increase survival percentages for the host, that host being you young Witan.”
“So you gather biological data from the vita-suits and physiological information from surveillance. To then get a readout of our compatibility with each new race and our chances of surviving the rebirth process? Is that why you chose the Druid for me, my chances are the highest with that race, not only in body but also in mind? Is there a percentage to determine success?” Wit felt the puzzle pieces begin to make sense.
Rubix paused for a fraction of a moment, somewhat surprised. “Your Guide logs precede you, truly an intellectual. Most of the ten-year-olds that go through the process even with the same explanation I’ve given you, see me as something more spiritual than technological. Not truly grasping my function. To answer your question, yes there is a percentage associated with your survival.”
“May I see them?” Wit requested feeling pride swell in his chest from the compliment.
A ninety-five percent appeared over the Druid, an eighty-eighty over the Spector, and an eighty-two over the Pacti.
“So there are other options. It's just that the survival rates are too low for them to be put on the table?” Wit asked
“Correct, there were attempts at hybrid forms. Combinations of the three you see here, to give the host more wide-reaching abilities for enhanced performance. But none of the estimates have reached more than sixty percent needing a passing score of seventy-five to be feasible for processing.”
“May I see the ones closest to success?”
“These three are your best bet young Witan, I would suggest you focus on them and disengage in this line of thinking.” Rubix took on a tone similar to the Guides when trying to be stern with the children.
“Is it my choice or not on how this plays out Grand Rubix? Show them to me, I must see everything available, and as you said, regret nothing.”
Wit realized throughout the years all the Guides ever do is suggest, mention, push, nag, and even try to manipulate him in a certain direction. Usually for his own benefit granted, but at the end of the day the choice has always been his. They’re only here to guide them in the right direction, and as the Guide in the elevator said, choose for yourself.
There was a pause before another three clones appeared around the platform. These were combinations of the original three in different ratios, but there only seemed to be two races combined in each iteration. The highest survival rate was a Druid/Spector mix with a percentage of sixty percent.
Walking around inspecting all of the new hybrid options, he knew something was missing.
“All of them,” Wit demanded
A last copy made itself known, making the total number of options seven. This one was the only one combined with all three races, balanced out with all of the benefits from each of the models.
The dark chitin-covered centipede-like tail that waved lazily through the air was seamlessly attached to the back of his clone's head of wild dark green curls. Black-furred Pacti ears twitching in the nest of leafy hair. The bark of the Druids became black, matching the chitin of the Spectors’ head-tail. The bark that framed his neck and jaw seamlessly connected to the alien appendage on the back of his head.
His creamy brown skin took on an alabaster green undertone while becoming a leafy texture with raised stem lines sparsely scattered across his new slim fit physique. The bark around his hands and feet had slits above his fingers and toes that claws made of thorns emerged from. While a far less drastic form of digitigrade legs and feet still gave him a few inches of extra height.
His main body was covered in black fur other than his front torso and his face which contrasted well with the dark green hair growing out of his head. Coupled with the thick tail swinging behind the clone with energy, it was the full package.
From a glance Wit knew this was the right answer, it had all of the advantages of the three while not missing out on anything. The only downside was the low fifty percent chance of it actually working.
It was a fifty-fifty chance of succeeding or probable death. Make a zero into one. Wit reminded himself, feeling his heartbeat thundering in his chest.
Keeping eye contact with the Druid/Spector/Pacti hybrid mirror image. Wit straightened his back and projected his voice with confidence. “I choose platinum, I want them all, no I need them all. I will not compromise in this decision, Grand Rubix. If I'm to do the impossible I must first survive the impossible. No matter what you say I won’t change my mind.”
There was a long pause and all the squares that made up Rubix stopped shifting around; everything going still and quiet. Wit waited with bated breath hoping he didn’t just make the biggest mistake of his short life. His earlier confidence slowly deflated in the suspense, but still, he stood firm.
“If you are positive this is your path I will not dissuade you. Just know that this selection is unprecedented and the chances could be lower than estimated. Once you have prepared yourself, take a step into the pod behind you.”
In the center of the platform, a capsule rose with a hiss, flooding the floor with mist only to spill off the side into the dark. Looking back at the selections revealed only his choice remaining.
Wit didn’t hesitate, he stepped inside and watched the glass blur, the kaleidoscope of colors in his copy’s eyes was the last thing he saw before he fell unconscious.
⚡️
In the last five hundred years since Babel’s creation, Rubix has seen thousands of children go through their rebirth. All with their own quirks and uniqueness, but still very much predictable as children could get.
Most children were content with Rubix choosing their new form for them, being guided their whole life they’ve grown accustomed to being led. While others find it in themselves to choose their own path; which is perfectly fine, no choice is wrong. Each of the three race options no matter the decision will grant them power and dominion over parts of creation.
Three species of the cycle, that is all the options Rubix has ever shown to any of the tower-born children. Until today that is, the young Witan was a hypothetical breath of fresh air. He reminded Rubix of his original self before he merged with the A.I. and birthed the Cradle project. Witan's grasp on the reality of things was truly astounding for a ten-year-old.
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Looking through his Guide logs has shown that he not only had the longest file to date but it also proved Witans’ intelligence was beyond his years. With the Guides free to provide information and help the children reach their potential in whatever sparked their interests in their ten-year stay at Babel, Wit absolutely abused them.
His knowledge focused mainly on engineering and material science, which wasn't entirely new in the tower. The difference was that he’s been learning them dutifully since the age of two. Which has allowed him to glimpse technology and concepts that no child has ever seen.
This could possibly upset the deal that his past human iteration and Eærthai made all those years ago. But a part of Rubix even after becoming a digital brain always wanted to upset the intricately fine tuned balance of the a.i. planet overlord. He knew that the humans who escaped would someday return, and when they did balance wasn't going to save anyone.
With only six more years of operation before the planet's shim particles made their way through the shields around the cradle protecting the incubating humans of Babel. Rubix calculated that the possibility of a child requesting to see any of the hybrid forms would be close to zero.
For Witan to not only demand to see the hybrids but also force it to reveal ‘Omni the hypothetical’ had Rubix crunching new numbers.
Rubix chose Druid for Witan because of their high resourcefulness, his love of nature, and that they are long-lived so that he would make the most of his intelligence and engineering capabilities. But like the other two species they were limited in their potential organix, the Omni on the other hand had all of their potential combined.
That potential with Witans technical mindset will have him eventually uncover the hidden truths behind Eærth’s mysticism and natural order. It was fascinating to hypothesize such an eventuality, but before anything of the sort could begin to happen— The young Witan needed to first survive through his rebirth.
⚡️
To begin the operation, Rubix had Witan floating in a large spherical glass bubble filled with a solution saturated lightly with shim particles also known as nanites. His hair dissolved and his skin began to flake off making his body involuntary twitch in what had to be excruciating pain.
[Vitals steady, condition green. 2%]
Rubix then released three symbiotic parasites into the solution, they shot off in the boys’ direction trying to outcompete each other for the prized host.
Rubix has run countless simulations for this exact surgery, and whenever it comes to more than one parasite the ‘will’ of the host must create a balance between them or the symbiotes won't be able to coexist and the host will pay the highest price.
The problem is that ‘will’ is a concept and not something that can truly be quantified. There is no way to bridge Witan's will to the symbiotes, he must find the way himself. In every simulation if one fails the other succeeds. It's always a fifty-fifty chance, hence the fifty percent survival rating.
The biological computer parasites known as symbiotes each have different entry points that they prefer. The green one that represents the Druid code structure went straight for Witans’ heart, digging into his chest, drilling a bloody hole into the cavity, and relishing the absorbed biomatter.
The hole was promptly sealed shut with a fibrous weave, and the symbiote began the process of replacing his heart and other organs.
[Vitals steady, condition green. 5%]
The purple one representing the Spectors, attached itself to the back of his skull, cracking it open, consuming the fragments, and settling itself in the recess of his brain. Black goo was secreted around the cracks and the half-revealed symbiote, before hardening and keeping it in place so it can begin its extremely precise surgery on the brain.
[Vitals dropping, condition yellow. 8%]
The orange one for the Pacti went for his vertebrae right between his scapula, wiggling its way through the spinal column. Eating away at his nervous system's spinal fluids preparing the channels for a more robust version. The entry point healed into a ringed scar in the middle of his back
[Vitals failing, condition red. 11%]
In an attempt to keep Witans’ body from catatonic failure, Rubix pulsed a steady current through the liquid solution, jolting Witans’ entire system awake. Using simulation data as reference, this will decide if he lives or dies.
Rubix stayed on standby for any updates.
⚡️
Wit woke to what had to be all-encompassing pain and with no ability to move in response. He tried opening his eyes and he couldn’t tell if his eyelids even moved. He tried to scream and he couldn’t feel his mouth or summon the strength to vocalize even a whimper.
Everything hurt so much, it itched, it burned, it cut and throbbed his entire body inside and out. He wanted to thrash in resistance and scream out for help. Lost in the pain, every rational thought escaped him but when he felt the things squirming in his brain, heart, and spine; pure panic bloomed in his chest and adrenaline rushed through him.
Whatever remnants of his heart that remained beat so hard, he felt the creature readjust its grip on it. Wit couldn’t even think, couldn’t process, couldn’t assess, couldn’t do anything remotely helpful to help himself. He felt the creatures battling for dominance inside of him tearing him apart from the inside fighting for the resources that made up his body. In doing so he could feel himself being whittled down to nothing.
The adrenaline, the lack of power, his autonomy being destroyed without even the slightest chance to resist. It made Wit feel something he’s never felt before, something he's studied but never truly understood, and that was pure primal anger. With frustration, he screamed in his mind and thrashed until his head felt hot even outside of the painful things wiggling in the folds of his brain.
The heat invigorated his rage, he buckled, kicked, and screamed some more in his consciousness. He tore his mental fingernails bloody looking for a seam, anything to grip onto. He was dying, he felt its silent approach and he knew he wasn’t going to make it out alive. With that realization, the heat sparked white hot into a wildfire.
That fire of rage burned away his panic, cinged away his fear, and obliterated the pain that overtook him to the farthest reaches of his mind. Within the ashes of the obstacles holding his mind prisoner, there was clarity and understanding.
This is my rebirth, it seems like his fifty-fifty chance was skewing towards zero. Why was it failing? Wit thought feverishly.
Through the distant pain, Wit felt the most uncomfortable in three locations, his brain, his heart, and his spine. Three locations, three race options. That can't be a coincidence.
Wit guessed that these were the carriers of the metamorphosis into the new species. He felt them fighting for what felt like territory, without rhyme or reason leaving little of his vitality remaining in the gruesome process.
I need them to stop fighting, but how? What did he know about the different races? He knew each one was part of the balancing act that made up the Earth's ecosystem. He knew that they all relied on one another to continue the cycle of life. He knew without one, the other couldn’t exist.
‘That's all the same thing Wit, just obtuse wordplay; get to the fluxing point and do something!’ Wit screamed in his mind, breaking the calm he was cultivating and letting the pain wash through him again. The anguish was beginning to cloud his mind once more, hiding the answers he was seeking in its tortuous mists.
Wit didn’t have the time to hesitate, he needed answers now; his life depended on it. He dived into the mist of pain, he let it bank the forefront of his mind while he sank deeper into his subconscious. He kept sinking further and further away from his suffering with a thin line of awareness keeping him tethered from falling into the darkness never to awake.
His mind cleared once more and he scrambled for an answer to make it all stop. After what felt like hours but was probably only seconds he stopped struggling, he was tired, so very tired. He wished he had a mother like in the stories to hug him, he wished he didn’t feel so alone.
The line holding his awareness was beginning to fray. His head swam with vertigo and his thoughts were syrupy, Wit knew this was it. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he was going to die. In the end, he didn’t regret his choice.
Sometimes you're a zero, not a one. That's just binary. Was Wits’ final thought as he began to shut his metaphysical eyes.
Three lights shimmered in his mental peripheral, pausing his descent into entropy. They were the most beautiful things Wit has ever witnessed, he could feel the pulse of life in their ethereal forms. He recognized them the second they entered into his diminishing awareness, the metamorphosis carriers. His rebirth.
Wit could now see their lack of cohesion. Each one of them were selfish things not willing to share while hoarding resources for themselves. They did not understand that they needed each other to survive, they could not comprehend balance. Without a guiding hand they will be their own downfall. Another zeroed out equation.
Thinking back to the grand crystal motif at the entrance, Wit understood what coexistence looked like. He knew nature was relied on by all forms of life, and in turn those forms of life took care of one another. Without thinking, Wit mentally grabbed all three ethereal lights and dimmed the orange and purple ones letting the green one flourish and encompass both. He then cupped the vistages of his platinum like will over all three and felt the pulse of life reverberate through his entire being.
One for all, and all for one. Wit thought victoriously. And I will be the one, I swear it.
⚡️
Vitals stabilizing, condition yellow. 14%
“To do the impossible, he must first survive the impossible.” Rubix quoted the young Witan's words, knowing that this was a pivotal moment in homosapien history. No, it was the beginning of a new kind of history. This was the story of the first Homo’omnisapien.