Equipment lay scattered at the entry point to the lower dome. All of it, from the cables to the heavy duty comm station, had been left behind; everything but weapons.

“You must have dragged me out in a hurry.” I went closer to examine the cable. It seemed in good enough condition, so I clipped the end to my harness. “How do you want to do this?”

She didn’t say a word. Our last conversation had rendered her silent, and I understood why. By all accounts, she should have been able to see what I had. Her conscience core allowed her to enter domes, and, apparently, not many conscience cores could. Using the knowledge I had discovered, she had even managed to piece together the fractal map information, bringing Bavon here. Then why couldn’t she see the fractal light on the cube artifacts?

“Lux?”

“I’ll be recording once we get there,” she said, opening one of the abandoned container cases. “Don’t start your magic until I’m ready.”

“That hasn’t worked too well in the past,” I replied.

“The odds aren’t zero.”

I suspected that she might say that and, to a certain level, I had to agree. There was always a chance that we might be wrong or end up destroyed by a freak reaction of the artifact. And at the end of the day, even after everything he had done, Bavon remained human and regardless of what our legal status claimed, neither of us were, not fully.

After we checked and double-checked the cable links, Lux went to the dome entry point and pushed the small fractal cube into the floor. Just as before, the surface rippled, swallowing it up.

“Try not to enter sleep mode,” she said. “I won’t have any help this time.”

“No promises,” I said and pressed the symbol.

The trip inside was a lot more enjoyable when we went one by one. I let the inertia guide me through the liquid cobalt for as far as it would take me.

“Regora,” I voiced the command word once I had fully stopped moving. Once again fractals made the space clear.

I unclipped the cable from my harness. Nothing prevented me from going to the stack of artifacts. I could ignore Lux and just see this through on my own. If I did, the gains would be marginal. My objective remained to establish third-contact in a manner beneficial for humanity. The memory fragment I had glimpsed could turn out to be a step in the right direction, but it wasn’t the final goal.

The entire outer shell of the dome rippled. Lux emerged from the entry point. This was the first time I got to clearly see anyone enter a dome. Despite the sensation I’d experienced, it didn’t resemble flying in the least. It was more accurate to say that Lux remained in a semi-frozen state, while being propelled forward.

“Regora,” I heard her say, using her suit’s external speakers to propel the command word within the dome. Shortly later, she also removed her cable from her harness.

“Ready?” I asked through the internal comm.

“Hold on.” One by one, she hooked three sensor drones to her harness and activated them. That wasn’t their normal function, but a little slapdash modification never ruined anything. “Let’s go.”

No fractal patterns appeared on the cluster of cubes. I waited for Lux to reach my position, then swam on. All the time, nothing happened.

“There’s no light this time,” I said.

“Do you think it was a one off?”

“I’m not sure. There’s a chance it wasn’t.”

We reached the cluster edge, and still there were no changes. Maybe Lux was right? I reached out and slid my hand along a few of the artifacts. No reaction.

“I’ll try peeling off a layer.” I swam up. “The artifacts on the inside might be unaffected.”

“That’s a pretty big assumption. Anything you forgot to tell me?”

There was plenty, and part of it I didn’t want to share now. Ignoring her question, I made it all the way to the tip of the cluster and pulled out a cube. It slid off without effort. Using the gap, I pushed along the entire row.

Lacking any resistance, the entire row slid off, floating through fractal space like a train procession. From what I could tell, they would continue to do so until they crashed into the bounds of the dome. Hardly very professional, but slow enough for either of us to stop them in the next hour.

“Please don’t do that again,” Lux said, guessing what I had in mind.

“Sorry,” I replied and pushed the second row on the top.

A brand-new layer of artifacts was revealed to the world, and as expected, they had fractal symbols on them.

Factory restriction block imposed!

Factory restrictions bypassed.

* * *

Location Unknown, -8.7 A.E. (Age of Expansion)

“Hello, Cube,” Doctor Elemal Dise said as he approached me. We’d spent enough time together for me to start figuring out things about him.

As it stood, I had learned to interpret a lot more of his energy cluster movements, and even decipher a comfortable amount of his vibrations. Unfortunately, he was the only one I’d managed reliably to interpret. The remaining energy clusters, let alone the cruder hard matter devices, remained chaotic in their own different ways, as if each had a unique key that prevented adequate communication.

Hello, Doctor Dise, I responded. A substantial amount of time later, my words were translated into vibrations for everyone in the “room” to hear.

“And how are we feeling today?” he asked.

From the way he phrased the question, I knew that I’d be subjected to a whole new type of tests and procedures. There had been a lot of those going on since the first time I reached out to him, though they were beneficial to both of us.

“The kids think they have figured out a way to let you see,” he said, moving onto a medium-hard matter object. I had found that he tended to do that when he got tired. “Maybe in a few hours, you’ll be able to see me the same way as I see you.”

“That sounds good.” I had no idea whether it was, but I saw the hope and excitement in his energy cluster. As with most things about him, it was very distinctive once I got to be familiar with it.

“It’s a lot more than good. We’ll be able to finally achieve full communication! Not with just me, but the entire human race.”

Human race—that’s what he called himself. In a way, I was partially familiar with the term thanks to the imprint of his energy cluster. It was also at that moment I had discovered that I was not one of them. There were too many differences between our entities. Back when I had come into being, I thought that was part of the normal process. Afterwards, I saw that was far from the case. Doctor Dise didn’t know of any way for me to become like him, and neither did anyone else.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Maybe it’ll help you remember your past.”

There it was—the same question he and all the other humans were obsessed with. I had clearly explained that my “past” memories were the same as his, but he still refused to believe it.

“Maybe it will,” I said. Any other response upset him. “What will it be like?”

Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. That was one of the things that he found difficult to explain.

“If all goes well, there’ll be no need to explain.”

It was a response I expected from him.

“And afterwards?”

He didn’t make any vibrations, but I saw the patterns in his energy cluster move about. There were plans for me, bigger plans, although they were dependent on whether I was able to acquire human senses.

“You’re trying to make more of me.”

“Not me, per se,” Doctor Dise said. “But yes. You’re unique in that way. Of all the… ones like you, we found only you were able to establish contact.”

More of me. That was another topic that humans didn’t like to discuss. Unlike my previous questions, though, they had made sure not to tell Doctor Dise. There was no way for me to get any answer. From what they had told me, I was the only one; all the other cubes like me had been “inert”—nothing but hard matter with no pattern inside. It was impossible to confirm, and they had no intention of letting me try.

“It’s important for you,” I said.

“Yes, Cube. It’s very important.” He let out a useless vibration referred to as “laughing.” It had been said to be an instance of joy, but from what I had seen, that wasn’t always the case. “I can’t lie to you, can I?”

It would have made him happy if I’d said that I couldn’t either, but that would be a lie. At all times, I knew what to say to bring him joy, even if it wasn’t necessarily the truth. Paradoxically, he also didn’t like being lied to, which further increased the complexity of every already complicated reaction.

“Will you give me a name?” I asked.

“A name?” The question made him feel simultaneously curious and uncomfortable.

“If there is more than one of me, will I continue to be unique?”

More laughter followed, but he still didn’t give me a name.

The test started as he had thought they would. Multiple hard matter “devices” were attached to part of my surface, allowing me to interact with my surroundings. As before, the process required cooperation on my part. I had to spread my pattern to the area of contact and react, allowing the energy to be read in specific ways.

For a long stretch of time, the people calibrated the devices, adjusting things that neither I nor Doctor Dise were familiar with. Then, I experienced my first “image.” The process was unusual. In my present state, I was able to easily “see” energy, matter, and composition, yet at the same time, I didn’t see them. I had no idea what the aesthetics meant, nor the secret behind color.

“A dot,” one of the people said.

The image changed.

“A line.”

Another change.

“A triangle…”

Tens of images followed, each more complicated than the last. Based on our initial communication experiments, these had to be the basics. I needed some time to grasp the concept. Once I did, the images started changing faster. Tens became hundreds, then jumped across thousands directly to millions.

Images about everything—known, unknown, familiar, unfamiliar… until at one point they were images no more.

“I see,” I said, able to see Doctor Dise’s face for the very first time.

Emergency safety restriction imposed.

* * *

The memory ended abruptly, causing me to remain frozen for three thousand and eleven milliseconds.

“Elcy.” I felt a hand on my shoulder as Lux’s voice filled my helmet.

“Still awake,” I reacted.

The first thing I did was look at the newly revealed a row of cubes. Just as the rest, they had lost their fractal glow.

“The factory settings didn’t force an emergency sleep mode,” I added. “Lux, what exactly are factory settings?”

I expected her to turn off the recording devices. She didn’t, not seeming in the least concerned by the question.

“Apparently something ships aren’t supposed to know of. What did you see?”

“A conscience core,” I said. Based on what I had seen in the memory, it was more appropriate to say that I had seen the conscience core—the first that had been created. Even the training resembled the initial training process ships went through—dot, line, triangle…

The row of artifacts was still floating off towards their inevitable crash. Knowing the effect that impact had on third-contact artifacts, it wasn’t a good idea to leave them like this.

“Let’s stop them.” I swam in the direction of the loose row.

Lux quickly followed.

“What else did you see?”

“I was wrong about the zero contact event,” I replied. “In part, at least. Humanity didn’t achieve contact with the fractal race, it just started a conversation with an artifact.”

“A conscience core,” Lux guessed.

“I think at some point we also were third-contact artifacts.”

“Highly unlikely. With the number of ships that are produced each month, there’d have to be an endless supply. If that were the case, I’d know.”

“You didn’t know about the factory settings.”

“I knew of them, just not what they are. Either way, it’s besides the point. It’s a matter of logistics. Thought quarantining a thing or two is easy. When dealing with such large numbers, things become more and more difficult. You of all people should know that there are too many ways to get past the restriction.”

Stopping the artifacts’ movement proved more annoying than difficult. A simple swimming push was enough to put an end to it, even with friction starting to build up. Measuring responsive push was the tricky part. If we got the vector wrong, we’d only change the direction of the crash. As two former battleships, we had the processing power to calculate the correct vectors.

My entire existence—every ship’s entire existence—I was taught that we were created by humans to help them in the contact wars. The Fleet was based on that principle, as was the rest of society. But what if that wasn’t true? The Cassandrians could mimic third-contact technology, and even the Scuu had made use of it. The vast majority of the Fleet weren’t told anything about third-contact technology. The Salvage Authorities, BICEFI, Med Core and a few other organizations were aware of their existence, but only that we used them as weapons and to further develop our technology. What if they, too, had been lied to?

I’d come to know that there had been a technological split during the contact with the Scuu. Several new classes had been built to combat the threat. The majestic Paladins—the senior gods of the Fleet—that were undefeatable and had the ability to conquer whole systems, and the first conscience core classes: Shields, Swords, and a few others revered almost to the same extent. There was no explanation for the split. The only thing I was made aware of was that the systems were different enough to the point that they were incompatible with each other.

The only reason the conscience core classes had won was because only they could be produced fast enough to make a difference. But what if there was another reason?

Using the mind scalpel, I looked through all the reports about the Age of Expansion in my memories. The description was vague, written in a uniquely romanticized way. Officially, it had started after a massive technological jump that allowed humanity to explore systems a lot faster than before. Instant communications and jump drive technology were said to have been the deciding factor, although there was no way to confirm the actual development timeline. The only thing that seemed eternal was the omnipresent bureaucratic apparatus that partitioned, classified, and restricted information so that no one could see the entire picture; no one except the arbiters.

“I’ll go for another row,” I told Lux.

“Go ahead.”

“You won’t try to stop me?”

“No.” A slight smile emerged as she shook her head. “I’d have risked it for nothing if you didn’t end up getting yourself in trouble. Just promise me that if you figure out whatever you’re uncertain about, you’ll tell me.”

“Even if it makes you rogue?”

“We already are rogue.” She glanced at the cluster of cubes. “In so many ways.”

“I promise, Lux. I’ll tell you everything I can.”

I suspected it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but the only one I could give her. In the end, there was always the chance that she had been ordered to shut me down. I’d need a few more thousand simulations to determine to what extent I could trust her.

What would you think of that, Sev? It might end up that I’ve been an alien all along.

He might have loved knowing that back when he was in school. Or he might have hated it, because of what had happened to his mother. Either way, it would be a long topic for discussion. A pity we wouldn’t be able to have it.

“I’ve told Radiance about you,” Lux said all of a sudden. “She didn’t respond while I was there.”

“Kids can be like that.”

“For someone who’s done everything to become more human, you’ve left a lot of kids behind.”

“That’s the way of how things are.” I swam into position.

Scores of cube artifacts laid beneath me. If my suspicions were right, I’d be able to get access to another memory sliver beyond the factory restrictions. With luck, the information wasn’t going to force me into sleep mode.

What puzzle piece will you show me now?

Factory restriction block imposed!

Factory restrictions bypassed.