"In the bloodiest of times and darkest of hour, brother slew brother. Herod of the Old Smoke killed his battle brother Sam Broken by Guilt. Not out of hate or revenge for the pain and abuse during their Saga in the Suds. It was a mercy to a man so driven by good intentions he tried to carry the weight of their Creator's sin. So with a Spike of Smoke so quick it appeared he felled his friend and brought him peace as no one else could." -Forgotten Seer of Taco's Refuge Hesstalian Colony, as recorded by u/Tacolord007 Hesstlan Historian of the Tide of Ages
"Little more can be said of the Madness of Sam-UL the Screaming Lord of Heaven. Great tomes telling of his descent and defeat. The libraries have been filled."
"No, I wish to hear tales of Herod the Man." - Scholar u/MilesKalashnikov, in his introduction chapter of "From Ones and Zeroes He Became Flesh: A Tome of Musing", Tukna'rn Press
"And the Mortal Son of the Mad Matriarch has finally set asides the fears of childhood and done what must be done. No longer a puppet but a truly real boy, the final meeting of Pinocchio and Howdy Doody is a sad ordeal indeed. May he be embraced in the Digital Father's love as Herod has accepted his mother's will, may Screaming Sam-UL Master of the Pubvian Lazarus know rest." - Prayer in the days following the War For Heaven
Herod stared down at Sam-UL, watching as one by one the telltales on the back of the therapy frame's neck went yellow, amber, red. He lifted his right arm, opened his hand, and the blade dropped back into his sleeve, locking into the spring loaded sheathe.
It took effort to roll Sam-UL over onto his back. Effort to cross his hands over his chest. Herod closed Sam-UL's eyes and touched his forehead briefly, closing his own eyes and muttering a quick prayer.
Herod had to admit he'd never been a religious being, viewing the worship of the Digital Omnimessiah to be desperation of humanity pushed to the brink by the Terran/Mantid War.
Now he knew better.
"And Lo, did your Sisyphean task end, my friend," Herod said softly.
He moved over to the chair and sat back down, digging in the other waist pocket of his denim jacket and pulling out another can. He stared at it for a long moment.
If you bring one beer, you probably should bring two, Herod heard Daxin's voice. Advice given next to the fire.
"Indeed," Herod said softly. He cracked open the fizzybrew and took a long drink, then set it on the counter.
He dug out the cigarettes and lighter. He spent a long minute looking over the soft cellophane, paper, and foil package. He admired the simplicity of the logo, the fact it wasn't animated, and the subtle cleverness of the design. He tapped the pack and one cigarette slid out obediently.
Herod knew the physics behind it, but it felt more fun to just marvel at it.
He had learned that he no longer was 'cursed' with the Digital Sentience's instinctive action to bring up the knowledge regarding their surroundings. No longer, for Herod, did watching a sunrise automatically let him know the temperature, humidity, wind direction and speed, dew point, stellar lumen measurement, the types and sex of the birds or analogues that began to wake up, or any of the other data.
Now, in this body of flesh, he could just enjoy the slightly chilly breeze, the colors of the sky, the sound of birds, in one whole wonder, unburdened by excess knowledge.
He realized he understood, staring at the cigarette pack before he put it away, in entirely new ways, the Digital Sentience Green Flowerpatch-558234, who had had digital surgery done on her core strings to prevent her from instantly and instinctively having all that data come into her mind.
They live in the material world, he remembered her saying.
He took out the lighter, examining it slowly. The scratches, the blemishes, the pattern of the steel, the stamping on the bottom. He opened it and closed it slowly, like he had never seen it before, and read the inscription over and over.
03 FEB 1943 - LOS ALAMOS BOYS RANCH SCHOOL STAFF RECRUITMENT DRIVE
On the back was scratched a simple phrase: "I have no regrets" carefully carved into the steel.
"No, you would not," Herod said softly. He looked at Sam-UL's body. "Nor do I."
He lit the cigarette, took a drag as he put the lighter away, then reached over and put a fingertip against the input jack. The small cybernetic induction jack on his finger connected, he gave a single command, and the door slid up smoothly.
Daxin stepped in, pistol in hand, scanning the room quickly. Herod noticed that he stepped carefully around the therapy frame, keeping his pistol pointing roughly in Sam-UL's direction.
Legion came in next, carrying the Detainee's body over his shoulders and a carrier in his hand. He looked the room over and shook his head.
"In the end, all of our planning didn't matter," Legion chuckled.
Peter came in next, looking sorrowful at Sam-UL's body. He looked at Herod.
"I'm sorry. I know how hard it must have been for you," Peter said.
Herod just nodded.
Daxin walked through the room, checking corners, behind consoles and computer server racks, moving into the adjacent room before coming back.
"Clear," he rumbled.
Herod just nodded, watching as Legion put Dee's body in one of the chairs, arranging her hands in her lap, smoothing her skirt, and shifting her head so it looked like she dozed off.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Thank you," Herod said.
He could remember Dee teaching him how to walk in his body. How to eat. Soothed his panic when he briefly, for a few seconds, forgot how to breathe.
Herod wondered how often people had seen the side of her that had patiently taught Herod to live in his body and had soothed Peter's nightmares.
"Do you think she had any contingency plans in case she permanently stroked out?" Legion asked, sitting down.
"Probably," Daxin said, taking another seat, which creaked under his weight.
"I would," Peter said, sitting down at one of the master control panels and tapping the security device to wake the console up.
"Perhaps this was her plan all along," Herod mused.
"What? Dying? Sounds like a shitty plan to me," Daxin said.
Legion shrugged. "Part of her is still alive, in the Master Massive Casualty Processing System."
Herod put his elbow on his knee and cradled his chin in his hand, even as he took another drink off the fizzybrew before setting the can on the console. He stared at the Detainee and Sam-UL both.
"I'm in. I can get a lot done here, but I'm going to need the Detainee to process and give approval as well as gain consent for some of my old coworkers to get respawned if we don't want me to take ten years," Peter said.
Legion nodded. "She's working on it now. Your coworkers are in bad shape."
Peter didn't say anything, just swallowed and nodded.
"The worst part about a well planned operation that is carried out efficiently is the weird let-down you feel when the worst is over," Daxin said after a long moment. The thigh compartment opened and he spun the pistol twice before holstering it. The holster slid back into his thigh and the cover closed. "You end up going: Was that it?"
"You'd prefer another Anthill?" Legion asked.
"I didn't say that," Daxin grouched, glaring at Legion.
"Then quit your bitching. I swear, you'd bitch if you were hung with a gold rope," Legion said.
"Well, yeah, you're fucking hanging me," Daxin snorted.
"See? Bitch bitch bitch. You whine like a mule," Legion said.
"I'll mule you in the side of the head," Daxin shot back.
"Mooom, Daxin's threaten..." Legion suddenly stopped speaking.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.
------
The figure on the throne made of iron and bone shuddered suddenly. The middle face contorted and screamed, one set of hands reaching down to press on the strange figure's abdomen. The other faces, all four of them, continuing intoning strange and powerful spells, calling upon kernal and task_strut and API and even more esoteric creatures and foundations of reality. The wings beat slowly, the feathers charring and falling away from the wings, smouldering as they drifted on the winds.
The glass mountain shuddered and creaked, a high pitched sound that hurt the ears and echoed from the mountains. The sky darkened and clouds formed, lightning arcing in the clouds.
The fox and the frog looked and saw digital blood streaming between the fingers and from under the hands.
"Those are his hands," the fox said, reaching down and grabbing the figure's wrists. "Help me, brother."
The frog nodded, grabbing the wrists. They both raised their voices in song as they tensed.
Together, as they had done many things, the frog and the fox both pulled, bracing their feet, leaning back, pulling with all their might even as they sang loudly in the face of the lightning and the thunder, the squealing shriek of the glass mountain shifting, and the thunderous intonations of the other faces.
The middle face screamed louder as the being began to pull free. Digital flesh stretched, network backbone crunched, packets howled, and operational layers warped like taffy pulled in the sun.
The mountain rumbled and began crumbling, dissolving like cotton candy dreams in a warm spring rain.
The frog and the fox pulled harder, shifting their grips, never fully letting go of the savagely wounded, terribly mauled, and horrifically maimed figure they were struggling to pull free.
Dead attack programs rotting in digital chasms dissolved. Defunct and slain trojan horses, rode by long dead intruders, dissolved into glittering piles of tiny cubes that steamed as they dissolved. The mountain spread out in a puddle, the glittering edges of vertexes and splines slowly spreading even as the thunder from the clouds above boomed.
The extra hands grabbed at the figure, the wings pummeled and buffeted the fox and the frog, the four other mouths began screaming denials.
ACCESS DENIED
FILE LOCKED
ACCESS PREVENTED BY ADMIN
FILE IN USE BY OTHER PROGRAM
all boomed out from the terrible jaws of the other faces.
The fox and the frog pulled harder, the splines and the vertexes stretching, weighted lists warping, and floating points hovering dancing twinkling around the fog, the frog, and the screaming man.
There was a sudden POP and the body flew free.
The fox and the frog grabbed the wounded man, pulling him close, as the other four faces screamed in denial and rage.
FILE NOT FOUND
VARIABLE RETURNED NULL
CANNOT WRITE TO MEMORY LOCATION #00000000000
GURU SYSTEM ERROR UNAVAILABLE
Holding tight to one another and the wounded man the fox and the frog shifted as the mountain kept dissolving. File Trees burst into flame and crumpled into fragments. Open sources objects yawned wide, the bottom of the chasms too deep and dark to see.
Kicking their feet to slow themselves the fox and the frog, holding tight to the man, slid down the dissolving slope of the glass mountain.
Behind them the figures struggled, warped, fought. Their form distorted as four different figures struggled to go in different directions. Flesh split and data packets flowed.
The fox and the frog concentrated on holding onto one another and their rescuee, sliding down the dissolving mountain.
The figures suddenly erupted into four different beings in a spray of digital ichor.
The four beings were terrible to behold as they took flight, wings of smouldering feather, hammered bronze, cold forged iron, and burning bone flapping with strength that buffeted the trio sliding down the mountain with windy fists. The four beings circled as they slowly rose into the clouds.
The fox, the frog, and the man slid to a stop on a riverbank.
There was the remains of a fire in the sand, ripples in the water, and the echo of the words of a legend shimmering in the air.
The man cried out in pain as the fox and the frog patted him over.
"He is badly wounded," the fox said.
"Take joy, friend, for we are with you," the frog soothed.
Together the two scooped water from the flowing data stream, pouring it on the man's wounds. They soothed him when he cried out in pain, held him as he cried in pain from more than just his physical wounds, fed him broth to strengthen him, and gave him cool water to ease the pain of his cracked lips.
When it was obvious to the frog and the fox that the man they had rescued was delirious with fever, his internal code strings severed and damaged, they moved aside in the fire light and took counsel with one another.
They came back to the man, moving him gently to the edge of the river, and cradled him gently.
The fox dug out a crystal vial that was only half full of a shimmering silver liquid.
"We will wash your wounds with these, let you sip at this, and perhaps it will ease your pain," the fox said.
"Either way, we are with you, and will not abandon you," the frog reassured the man, who cried golden tears.
The fox tipped the vial over each wound and the silvery light filled the wounds. The streaming code that made up the man's body flickered and dimmed, then brightened as the silver fluid merged with the being's code.
"Sip," the fox said, tilting the vial against the suffering prisoner's lips.
A single silver drop, the last of the liquid, rolled from the lip of the vial to the sufferer's lip.
The sufferer's eyes opened wide. He reached out and grasped the fox and frog's hands.
He began to sing, softly, but gaining in strength as his wounds healed.
The fox and the frog sang with him, by the banks of the datastream, as the light of dawn brightened the edge of sight.
warm podling safe podling sing podling sing the song of hope sing the song of love sing the song of warmth sing the song of healing sing podling sing
As the sun rose over the edge of the dataplain, Sam-NU sang with the fox and the frog.