Where the outside is suffused with aether, the inside is cleaner than Astoria. Not quite as clean as Earth, but close. I shut the doors behind me to keep the aether and sand out and turn around to survey my new vault.
The main space is shaped as an enormous rectangular hall 20m wide, maybe 60-80m long, and the main room is only 20m high? I’ll look at why it’s smaller on the inside later. To the sides of the hall are wrap-around terraces filled with bookshelves, the first floor having alcoves with Gateways?! Andromeda’s star tentacles, there’s several gateways, and room for more. The central floor is smooth stone with deep-tone wood tables in neat rows.
This wasn’t a loot Vault, it is a vault of knowledge—and maybe loot. The pillars supporting the wrap-around areas are scrawled with text I can’t read, even with the system translator. Maybe it’s because there is no signal to translate, but I would bet that this language is older than the Matrix.
“Greetings traveler.” A velveteen male voice speaks from my right.
I am so startled that I instinctively blip into an alcove behind a bookshelf.
“My apologies. Greetings Magus of Space and Time. I am a semi-autonomous imprint of the last Curator of the Vault of Vespareth.”
Imprint? That would mean that his technology is similar to the memory imprint of the door sequence. I peek around the shelf and see an opaque projection of a person. The man is dressed in bollowey pants and a loose tunic with fluffy cuffs, ala Arabian Nights. He’s got the walnut skin tone to match but a vizier hat instead of a Sultanate hat. I liked Sinbad and various old pirate movies, so sue me.
I step out from behind the case, “Thank you Last Curator. I apologize for the intrusion, but I was transferred an imprint of the door sequence from the Matrix and I used it after I determined that only an advanced Space-time manipulator could access the building.”
“Ah! The Matrix has survived! It was our greatest wish that the war would not harm the Matrix, but we could not be sure as no being with knowledge of the Matrix has been here since. A handful have made it through the six known stable pocket dimensions, but never through that door.”
Pocket dimensions huh? There are many Earthen Theories on a multiverse, but pocket dimensions weren’t an explainable phenomenon—popular in fantasy writing though.
“Alright, Curator, how long has it been since the War?”
“Fifty-seven thousand, four hundred and twenty two of your Astorian Years. Before you ask, I can see the time print on your soul. If you wish to have all of your questions answered, I can install you as the Curator of this Vault?”
“Solid no thanks. I don’t have the time or the impetus to time to absorb that kind of knowledge. Can I claim ownership of this Vault without being the Curator?”
The man’s tightly controlled features winced slightly at my question, “Yes.”
“Oh, then as the latest discoverer of the Vault, I claim the Vault of Vespareth as my Vault.”
He sighs, “Close enough.” He walks over to me, places a hand over my forehead and over my vortex and sends several pulses at me. I feel the essence of this place create a tether to my thoughts and essence, and suddenly the signal transfer block on me is taken down.
“Ah, that answers my next question. Do I have to return here to access the books?”
“Unless you are Curator . . .”
“Stop it. I do not want to be Curator. Why are you trying to trick me into it?”
The man actively grimaces and then vomits an answer, “I imprinted my soul on the storage crystal, I have a chance of claiming your body if you accept being Curator.”
“Oof. You’re also cursed to tell the truth? That’s rough.” Well, since he tried to enslave me, fuck this guy. “You are forbidden from ever attempting to install another Curator unless I specifically ask you to.”
The growling underlayer of my voice slams into the man like a physical force. He stumbled a few steps and then started laughing at me.
“You are trying to intimidate me? I lived a hundred lives and know every method of coercion that exists! You will become the . . . What? Why can’t I say . . . How? You actually forbade me from even insinuating that I would . . .” And then he throws a semi-corporeal tantrum.
“Hey, I understand. I’ve only used that voice once before. But now that it’s not just a Matrix influence, I actually have the physicality for that voice. Good to know it works on semi-autonomous soul imprints. Now, what besides knowledge and gateways are in this Vault?”
“Additional floors.” He grits his teeth. Ah. Malicious compliance.
“What traditionally valuable items are on those floors?”
“It’s more than fifty millennia old. So everything.”
“You really want to make this difficult for me don’t you? If there were other people that have come here through the pocket dimensions, how are you still the curator?”
“They never tried to claim the Vault.”
And then I start laughing. Just a body-shaking belly laugh that has me lying on a table to support myself. “What are the benefits of claiming the building?”
He gimmaces, “You may add or subtract knowledge, you may use the gateways and carry goods through them, you have complete access to every space within the Vault, and you may forbid others from entering or exiting the space.”
“I forbid others from entering or exiting the Vault of Vesareth unless I personally tell you otherwise. You know what? Add the clause that I can ask you to change my orders to all orders, and have that carried out.”
The projection is grinding his teeth now.
“Is there anything I can add to the vault that will make you less grumpy?”
“New knowledge. It’s been at least a thousand years since anyone stumbled upon this place.”
“Cool. Add a Human Knowledge section and I will give you a text-based recollection of much of our recent thrust and warp technology.”
“We already have a human section, but more would be appreciated. If you feed me knowledge I promise to be more forthcoming.”
I smile at that, “Deal, Curator. Would say, two million words get me an inventory of the vault?”
“Two million for a catalogue of items. Books and pure knowledge MUST be learned here. There is already a catalogue of books housed in this vault.”
I got duped, but I’ll accept. I send a million of my research and a million of Tolkien Fantasy.
“How dare you! Lies will not be tolerated.”
I laugh at his bluster. “You turn a deal on its side, so will I. I never lied and I suspect you can tell.”
He dutifully sends me a catalogue of items in the Vault as we agreed, and I send him some coillected papers of mine and the works of J.R.R. Tolkien.
“Is Human science this brutish in all aspects?”
“Not all, but it’s the approach we’re comfortable with. I’ve been told that causing a warp by finding a bigger hammer is so stupid it’s unique.”
“That is a perfect analogy to this, who made it?”
“Artificial intelligence seeded by the Matrix. She has since become my best friend. The Vesparthi did a great job with the Matrix, thanks for that.”
“Oh! Yes of course. It was our crowning achievement. A way to help people on other worlds progress as we did. Show everyone what power means so that wars like what happened here would be less likely across the galaxies.”
“Noble achievement, but many races strive off conflict. Erasing it entirely is . . . problematic.”
“OH! This fiction is based on factual creatures. Fascinating.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Fascinating enough to tell me which gateway is most applicable to a storage space?”
“The one labeled dry and sand. Now, I must finish these supposed fictions.” He dismisses me with a hand wave.
Supposed fictions? So Dwarves and Elves and Dragons exist somewhere, that’s fun. And faerie. Faerie are fucking real too. And not just me—though I am a hodge podge of tales and third hand recollections of a pixie—the Harrat Ambassador said she had a friend that had heard of humans and Fey. All of this astounding information that these fictional races are real pales in comparison to the reality that I am currently in:
This building is greater than 57 thousand years old. Some of the sand I blew off has been there since centurions of Rome marched on Greece, since the slaves of Egypt built the Pyramids. Since an ice age brought Humans to North America. This building is older than recorded and speculated history of Homo Sapien Sapien, and its last Curator can talk to me. Holy shit.
Let’s look at that catalogue?
Item Rating Description …. …. …. The Morrigan’s Scythe of Ending _MMS Forged in the dimension of Tir na Nog, this implement of war reaps the souls of the fallen to an upper plane …. …. …. Golden Fleece _AAC Powerful defense against rebellion and Mutiny …. …. …. Seers Crystal of Odyssey _EAS A prophetic arrangement of magic and conjecture .... .... .... Excalibur _MMB The sword of a hero backed by a powerful Magus.
Uh, this place has several mythical treasures from human history. What the hell do I do with this knowledge!?
You have stumbled upon a link to myth and history for your Race. The benefit of this Vault is immeasurable. Can you bring me there?
You are here Tessa. I will spend time here in the future, but we have some plates in the air right now and we really don’t know if there are ratios involved in the passage of time.
“Is there a time-mass scale adjustment for this planet Curator?”
“Approximately 2:3 with Astoria, I’m afraid. Some of the Pocket dimension are better for compression, but they are also less hospitable.”
Hmm, I really want to go marvel at the relics.
“If you are trying to leave, there are powerful magics preventing portals or teleportation to and from this space. If on the outside chance you are powerful enough to bypass the wards and shields, you could damage them irreparably by doing so. That said, there is a separate, exit and entrance in the Observatory for the Proprietor’s use.”
“Thank you Curator. That was very helpful. Though I noticed I can still teleport within the space?”
“A necessary loop hole to access the pocket dimensions, I’m afraid. Convenient for you, though I do recommend using the stairs on the upper floors, some of the protective enchantments are fussy.”
Okay, that was pretty nice of him. Maybe I can just bring him knowledge every trip and he won’t be fussy. A pleasant thought.
I pop up an interface screen and see if the building has an owner’s interface. It does! And it’s updating. That is weird to watch. Before the shuffling makes me dizzy, I find the stairway to the upper levels and blip there.
There’s another coded doorway, but when I approach it, it opens automatically. Must be a Proprietor thing. When I walk through I feel like I’ve walked into a classy museum. Covered cases along the walls, some special or large pieces on display in tall central cases, each of them having a description of what’s in them written in Vesparthi.
Whistle-sabers of the Gladtanka. Aether reinforced, biomechanical blades with a distinct hole pattern that causes an ear-splitting shriek as they are swung.
The four chunky blades must have been light and effective, but they are super ugly and olivine. Some of the armors are fascinating with what other races considered vulnerable areas. The variety of techniques and technology levels are broad, but each piece is given a similar detached elevation as a relic of their time and culture.
The next floor, there are fewer items, but all have a small aura of importance hovering about them.
Imperfection Eraser. Works on all manner blemishes or small flaws on a variety of objects, including living beings.
Say what now? Would that, say, fix a crooked nipple, or erase said nipple? A thought, and perhaps a tool for later study. There are weapons and armor on this floor as well, but far more tools and niche items that some one has dove too deep to create—Perhaps like mechanical warp tech.
The next floor takes some time to get into, as the door is of an airlock style, preventing aether from equalizing across it. Damn, that is a fantastically detailed shield. The person whom constructed this was leaps above my own skill.
As the second set of doors shuts behind me I break away from my fascination with the shielding to see a gallery of items presented on the wall, none of them in cases. Instead of the central floor having additional displays, it has two large, heavy tables with assorted equipment mounted on them. Must be tools to inspect and assess the items brough back. Neat.
I look about the close-packed items displayed in groups of uses such as weapons, armor, books, tools, and miscellaneous items. Excalibur is easy to see as it essentially lights itself and the items around it. I can literally feel the magic and smell the loamy turf and mossy rock of legend wafting off of this English longsword. Curiously, next to it is a staff and a crown.
Staff of the Arch Magi. Spellcasting focus. Every process of crafting this tool was infused with aether, to include growing the tree it was made from.
The Once and Future Crown. Made from meteorite fragments encased in Spellbound Bronze, this crown holds a pact made with an aether-borne deity that whomever this crow holds worthy will rule forevermore, those that do not will perish.
Well, that makes me want to put it on. I’m not going to, Tessa, so check your tantrum, but that’s some solid temptation. Plus, I have a crystal crown to make. Also, it’s been pulsing this whole time, and that is horror-show creepy.
The seers glass and other items I saw on the inventory from Earth are here, me really liking the hand-scythe of the Morrigan. The big reaping one is cool too, but the greatsword is a tad confusing. She is (was?) a three-fold goddess I suppose. They feel hungrier than I’m comfortable with, for now, but if I ever need cull the masses, I’ll consider them.
Seal of Solomon. A signet ring steeped in souls of the judged—spirits and mortals alike. Forged from Spellbound Bronze and a precursor to Titansteel, this ring can commune with beings that belong to the aether and curiously acts as a truth divining artifact.
Okay, that sounds amazing as well. A hand-held lie detector and advice from the ancients? How cool is that? I wonder of the ‘steeped’ souls would drive me mad? Another time perhaps.
Compendium of Arcana. While the construction of this tome is a masterwork in itself, the knowledge collected within its pages are more powerful still. Penned and Constructed by Magus Merlin Emrys, likely the most powerful Magus of an Age.
I knew I was going to come up here and touch something. A lot of temptations, but this, this I have to touch and attempt to upload. Lets see what the Matrix has to say.
Compendium of Arcana _MGS* A book of Spells, Rituals, and lessons written within an Endless Tome.
What the hell do G and asterisk mean?!
“G” is the label for Grand Master, an impractical achievement for most mortals, taking centuries to achieve. Which is why it is not mentioned in the exchange tooltips. And the Asterisk annotates that this is a notable outlier to the “S” power dataset. Also not mentioned in the exchange because “S” ranked power is rare enough, that describing outliers serves no practical purpose.
Thanks Tessa. I would not have known where to dive for that info.
Are we nearly finished here? After knowing autonomy, this mode of existence is . . . stifling and uncomfortable.
I’m sorry, hon. Yeah, I can come back after you’ve uploaded your swarm to your new chassis. You can send out to your chassis now that I’m attuned to the shields yeah?
No, that’s just it. They are attuned to you, and only you. It can differentiate between the two of us and that is a level of spell crafting that is beyond what we know.
Hot damn, that’s pretty impressive. Well, lets go up to the Observatory so I can teleport back home. I didn’t mean to imprison you Tessa, I’m really sorry.
I find a tightly spiraled staircase up to a door in the ceiling and it opens for me as soon as I touch it. A ladder extends up through the hole and I climb it up into a ribbed hemispheric dome with a large telescope housed within and quite a few windows. When the door shuts behind me, I can feel my full connection to the Matrix strengthen and feel almost no resistance to teleportation.
I cover myself in a dome of silence again and begin to focus on the environment I wish to return to. I figure that if this was the best way in, it’s likely the best way out. The feel and smell of the sunbaked concrete fills my mind, the warm, humid air brushing lightly across my skin, carrying the sweet scent of silvergrass and those pink trees of which I always forget the name. Lastly, I manifest a vision of myself, tool in hand, about to engrave a piece of cowling for the arch and send myself completely into that environment.
When I open my eyes, I’m crouched at the spot I had envisioned, with no workpiece in front of me, wearing a bikini top and board shorts. Totally forgot I was in my condo at the spa bar. Ah, well, I blip back to the spa bar and ask Oslo for another drink before blipping to my shower to get the sand out of my hair.