My rock was larger than it looked. The side with the stream carried a fair way back, and what I’d at first taken for a larger, neighbouring rock was in fact part of the same one, its seeming disconnection a trick of angles and perspective. It was high, mountainous in appearance. I felt glad for the balance upgrade now.

I took a long drink from water from the stream, and set out.

A relatively easy, if jagged, trail led around and up towards the larger section. It was the opposite to where I wanted to go, but circumstance didn’t give me much of a choice. Occasional plants dotted the cliffs, though fewer than in the grove. I noticed smaller versions of the needle tree, no larger than bushes, pushing out of the sides in places. Moss coated their trunks and nearby surfaces.

If I had to, I could try eating them. It would be a risk, though I supposed anything was. I had no frame of reference for what foods existed, let alone were safe to ingest. Maybe it was all poisonous. Maybe I’d already killed myself by drinking the water or getting needle powder on my hands, and I was already living on borrowed time.

A few insects buzzed around my head, small dots in iridescent green. They were pretty.

More climbing waited ahead of me, but it was easier and more forgiving. It might have been the balance upgrade talking, but I found myself emerging onto my second rim of the day only moderately tired.

This one contained something.

Not food, unfortunately - an obvious stockpile would have been too much to hope for - but a sign of habitation. The ground here was flat, comparable to the floor of the grove, though comprised of barren stone. It was worn and smooth, rocky but eroded as if through prolonged use.

The dead giveaway was the clusters of lights and the circle in their approximate centre. The lights poked up from the rock in clusters, like plants. Spheres attached to ends of curling stems, drooping slightly towards the tips. They glowed with a soft internal light imitating the suns, with patterns etched on the spheres in curling formations. If it was writing, I couldn’t read it.

I approached the nearest cluster and touched one the spheres with a finger. Hard and unmoving, for all its fluid appearance.

The circular indentation the lights surrounded had been applied with a similar design. Individual segments, iridescent and asymmetrical, were coloured to complement the suns in spiralling patterns created by artistic hands. They led towards a central inner circle. It shone with its own, softer light, carved into the face of the rock. I couldn’t tell where it was drawing its power from.

The lights drew my focus inwards towards the centre, marking the way. Why not? In the absence of anything better to do, I went and stood on it.

Familiar words filled my head. --Hello, Black.--

“Hello,” I greeted them. “Is this where I can talk to you?”

--Not required,-- the words replied. --Access is permanent and perpetual. However, this landmark sits within a locus of charge. It is most likely of interest.--

I frowned at the news. “When you say permanent, do you mean you were there across every cycle from the beginning?”

--Yes. But information from previous cycles is unrecoverable upon reset. No records exist to pass on.--

“Then what does that make you?” I asked my conversation partner. “If you also experience this process, are you also an Ancient?”

--In a sense. In essence, I am you.-- It was an answer I hadn’t been expecting. --I am what was lost and can be recovered. You have been reset, and cannot hold what you once held. Your capacity will improve with time. To maximise usefulness, available resources will be withheld until times of need.--

“So you do have my memories, then.“

--No. Only what can be recovered.--

“Why can’t memories be recovered?”

--They are not included in the recovery process.--

“So this –” I waved at my head, “– was intentional? Why?”

I didn’t receive a response.

I tried again. “Who am I, then?”

--You are yourself, Black.--

My guide could understand my desires, but that didn’t seem to make it much better at communicating. It felt like an ‘it’; the words neutral and informative, with little, if any, emotion behind them. “Yes, but what does that mean?”

No response again. If it lacked memories, it might be that it didn’t know.

“Alright,” I said, growing frustrated, “fine. What does this locus do? Is it useful?”

--Capacity is currently unavailable. Upgrade required. Capacity is expected to be achieved in three hours. Rest is recommended.--

I shook my head at the last part. “I don’t think I should wait. Orange mentioned there might be people coming after me. I think they might know where I am. Can you retract the balance upgrade to make room for what I need now?”

--Reversal is not possible. All upgrades are permanent until reset.--

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

That wasn’t the best news. I felt reluctant to sleep. I wasn’t tired, the rock floor wasn’t comfortable, and the threat of possible danger made the general prospect uninviting. “Are any of the plants around here edible?“

--Capacity is currently unavailable.--

I pushed it away with an annoyed thought, and was surprised when the words fell quiet.

Are you there? I asked experimentally.

--Yes, Black.--

Good to know, and confirmation it could read my mind. Or, I could read my own mind, if it was right about it being part of me.

Time passed restlessly. I spent it drinking from the stream and staring out over the view, which didn’t become any less beautiful as the suns passed across the sky. Some travelled faster than others. The floating debris remained mostly static, untouched by air currents. The occasional breeze wafted across my face, updrafts from over the edge. I had a concept of wind, but its behaviour here felt different to how it did in my mind. I couldn’t place exactly how.

I talked to the Guide, asking it questions, but it made a poor conversation partner. It knew little more than I did, its functions modelled on my knowledge and memories. Often it didn’t respond at all, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I waited, restlessly, as the hours ticked down, feeling my energy trickle away as it became harder to stay awake.

--Capacity obtained. Based on your current objectives, three potential upgrades are available. Will you accept?--

I snapped back to alertness, realising I’d almost fallen asleep. “Yes. What are the options?”

--Locus Specialisation. This upgrade will assist in identifying sites of concentrated charge, and allow minimal operational interaction.--

“That sounds promising.”

--You may alternatively select Fall Reduction. This upgrade will help slow your speed and break your impact from falling, increasing survivability.--

I peered over the nearest cliff edge. I couldn’t make out the shapes of the individual trees on the landmass below; the coverage blending together in vast swaths of colourful smears. “Something tells me that’s not going to help.”

--By definition, all upgrades are helpful and aligned to your current objectives,-- the Guide countered. --One upgrade will not let you survive a fall from these heights, but with enough time and applied focus, the path will open.--

“I don’t have time,” I argued. “However long it takes, I’m going to starve well ahead of it.”

--A factor that brings us to the third potential upgrade. Nutrition. This upgrade will let you metabolise nutrients more slowly, allowing less upkeep for survival.--

Also useful, for obvious reasons. But it only delayed the problem rather than providing a path to a solution. I wondered how long I’d have without it.

--Based on current physical condition, and assuming no intake of solids, you should survive for another seven to ten days,-- said the Guide, reading my mind. --Nutrition would increase that deadline by several more days. Time is also the resource required for progress. There is a strong chance multiple upgrades will open a viable path before chancing the unknown.--

“It’s all unknown,” I pointed out, and faced the mysterious inset in the ground in readiness. “Better to take my chances early before starvation makes it harder. And if I’m being hunted, I don’t think I can afford the time.”

--Locus Specialisation, Level One, integrated.--

As with the balance upgrade, the effects were instant. The circle had been illuminated from the beginning, but now it glowed in a way I could feel, not simply see, resting at the front of my perception in a calm, steady construct. I stood up and paced back to the circle of lights, and stood once more in the centre.

It had changed – or, more accurately, I had.

--This location is a station,-- the Guide reported, disrupting my thoughts. -- A focal point for its network.--

“Ah,” I said, and frowned as my own mind fed me the same information. I was fairly sure it hadn’t been part of my existing conceptual framework a moment ago. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. This network, I somehow now knew, was a system of transport. Perfect. Currently in disrepair: less ideal. Stations were typically linked to various other nodes, depending on the purpose, and this had once had many. Now all but two were broken. I could see them; broken threads of what the Guide had called ‘charge’ extending outwards to elsewhere, only to be frayed and snapped along their journey.

Of the two intact links, one reached out along the shattered skywards vista. The other slanted notably downwards, aimed at a spot in the middle of the vast landmass. One of those provided more geographical options than the other. Destination acquired.

The framework in my head told me the controls weren’t physical, although the mechanisms making them possible were housed in the station’s physical structure. I reached out with the same sense that let me feel the locus’ presence, bringing it to life.

A cool feeling rose through my boots into my body, working its way up until reaching my eyes. Two points of light bloomed in front of me, overlaid on my vision like physical objects; spheres like the ones in the lights. Strings of coiled patterns accompanied them that looked like writing. Unlike the words in my head, I couldn’t decipher what they said.

“What do I do?” I asked the Guide, to no response.

With some trepidation, I reached out to touch one of the nodes. To my surprise, I could feel it, though my fingers passed through the surface. It felt like touching a ghost - another detail for which I had a concept. Having come back from the dead, I wondered if I counted as one, technically-speaking.

A longer line of text appeared under the node. I couldn’t read it. Nothing else happened.

“Can you read it?” I asked the Guide.

--Capacity is currently unavailable. Upgrade required. Capacity is expected to be reached in four hours.--

“Longer than before,” I mused aloud. “Why is that?”

--Some fluctuation will apply; however, capacity generation will slow as energy is increasingly diverted to maintaining operative functions. In practical terms, there is a finite upgrade limit, but you will not hit it for a significant period of time. It is thus advised to reserve upgrade selection for times of need.--

“I think this qualifies,” I murmured, then reconsidered. I had very little context to base my decisions on. If it turned out the only thing in the world using this language was the travel network, it might be better to use an upgrade on something different. Not that it was giving me the option right now, anyway.

Not expecting much, I reached for the second node. It felt more solid than the other, and glowed under my fingers. A… good sign?

New text accompanied it in the same alphabet, though much shorter, and also glowing. I tried touching it, and my fingers went through.

--To travel to a station, you must pull it towards you,-- said the Guide, breaking into my experimentation.

“I thought you didn’t know.”

--The relevant upgrade has since been integrated.--

Right. I put my fingers around the node and tugged. The ball of light broke free with a slight resistance. The sensation in my nerves intensified dramatically, becoming a numbing vibration from scalp to toes. “Are you sure about this?”

Typically, I received no response.

With some trepidation, I pulled it the rest of the way and clutched it to my chest. Halfway through the motion, the hand carrying it fell apart, distorted into a cluster of disparate particles, and the rest of my body with it. But the part of me making the movement remained, carrying the node with it into my chest – or me into it – and everything I was passed through the chain.

I dropped out somewhere on the other end.