Unhurried, I ascend the stairs. The door at the top opens automatically with a smooth whir.
Talliel-Iota-5’s domain is absolutely deafening, filled with churning lathes and crashing hammers, tended to by an army of adepts. Hundreds of people stand hunched over desks, disassembled machines before them, or rush back and forth with boxes of components.
It is entirely impossible to work here without audio implants to filter out the noise, or to talk in any other manner except vox. A flock of cherubim flit overhead, swinging censors and blasting out hymns, entirely uncoordinated with each other in their choice of music.
A cherubim descends from the flock and hovers before me. It chirps at me, requesting I follow it. I have always found the winged, cybernetic toddler Servitors to be the height of poor taste and this example is no better.
Almost entirely naked, the cherubim’s chubby flesh stained with ash and oil, yet its elaborate ocular implants and fine white wings are pristine, glimmering with gold and rippling with overlapping energy fields that are completely invisible to a Human eye. To me the fields are an elegant and impressive display of advanced mathematics: invisible art to all but the most knowledgeable.
I vox the cherubim my acceptance and it leads me through the maze of industry. It reminds me of a cat as it constantly zooms ahead, pauses, then looks back and waits, only to rush ahead again, all while insisting on hovering at head height, blocking my vision with its diapered ass.
Brian, my favourite servo skull, is far superior. His eternal grin and blazing red eye as he bobs around my workshop, constantly pestering other Machine-Spirits, or chasing their digital impressions, is endlessly entertaining and irritating in equal measure.
Soon, I encounter Talliel-Iota-5 surrounded by a constant stream of apprentices and adepts as they present their work for critique and testing. Six Skitarii keep the adepts from swarming him.
From the stream of data flowing from Talliel-Iota-5 it is clear he knows what he’s talking about. He isn’t providing detailed explanations, but rather pointing the adepts and apprentices towards the information they need to fix their mistakes, or how they could have done better.
Once I reach the outer circle of his congregation, Talliel-Iota-5 says, “Enough. I have an important guest. Come back later.”
I scan the crowd, “Hold up.” I pick out four individuals, “I need you four to stay for a moment.” The four individuals hesitate while everyone else disperses, though not far enough to walk beyond the public proximity vox everyone is using to communicate.
I approach Talliel-Iota-5 and hold out my hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Enginseer Prime, Talliel-Iota-5. I am Magos Explorator Aldrich Issengrund. I hope we can have a productive exchange.”
Talliel-Iota-5 is four metres high and has replaced his legs with six mechanical limbs. His arms are also artificial and there are four of them. While they mimic the Human hand, they are segmented and hide many tools. His torso has withered and there is very little flesh beneath his liver spotted skin. Like me, his head is fake, and his brain is actually in his chest.
“Magos Issengrund. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Talliel-Iota-5 shakes my hand, “I did not expect you to grace us so soon. What do you wish with these four petitioners?”
I point to them one at a time, “Radiation burn, improperly maintained implant, incomplete surgical removal of an aggressive mutation, solvent abuse. If they were smart enough to go to the medicae deck they would have done so. I might as well fix them up while we chat before they collapse and ruin any machinery with their corpses.”
“As you wish, Magos. I appreciate your concern in maintaining the efficiency of my workshop, though it is unnecessary. They do not have enough metal in them to cause any damage and their replacements would learn a valuable lesson during the cleaning process.”
“For all our skills and knowledge, time is a boon of the Motive Force that we cannot alter. The Omnissiah has forbidden it. While these four individuals may be lacking in common sense and knowledge, the worth that they have accrued over their short lives would be lost with their termination and time would need to be spent to regain it. Is it not our duty and pleasure to restore, grow, and most importantly preserve all knowledge? As such, I would propose that they are worth healing.”
Talliel-Iota-5’s mechadendrites writhe behind him for a moment, then still, “This is not a view I have encountered. Perhaps if it was I or one of my peers whom you were talking about, I would agree. What could these four know that is equal to the time of more knowledgeable adherents such as you and I?”
I point to one of the unfortunate subjects of our discussion, a young woman with a radiation burn that is starting to blister her hand, “Take my hand and I will heal you.”
The woman bows and says, “Yes, Magos Issengrund.”
I take her hand and roll up her sleeve, exposing her hand and arm.
“Talliel-Iota-5, I am not specifically referring to the knowledge of the individual, but rather that of the collective, and the efficiency that lies within. Take this young woman for example. She has, likely unknowingly, handled an atomic device. Perhaps a noosphere cogitator with a decay based networking component, or the discarded casing of a Radium Carbine. Regardless of her error, the task list on her dataslate involves bringing your workers the parts they require. Who to ask, how to get where she needs to go, and what to prioritise is an important part of her work.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
I regenerate the damaged flesh and draw all traces of radiation from her body, forming it into a solid ball of flesh and blood.
“I was unaware you were a psyker, Magos,” says Talliel-Iota-5.
I shrug, “We each undertake the great works of the Machine-God in our own ways. I am fortunate to have more tools than most, no matter how much using the Warp displeases me. As for why I was talking about this young woman’s knowledge, her small role is a vital one.
“Replacing faulty cogs is clean and efficient, but it takes time for oil to accrue upon their surface. During this acclimatisation, they wear upon and slow the churning parts of our great, industrial machine, thus repair and maintenance is preferable to replacement, no matter the size of the cog. When you play this analogy across a whole organisation, the efficiency gains are considerable. I even have the data to prove it. Like all great works, it is a matter of numbers and one that you, Talliel-Iota-5, are poised to benefit from.”
Talliel-Iota-5 stops scanning his apprentice with a mechadendrite and gazes down at me, “How so?”
“Imagine a menial who spent their whole life disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling a single machine, like a fuel pump for the enginarium. While they do know the proper ritual of maintenance for the device that they work upon, they have long since become jaded from the monotonous nature of their role and have learned slightly faster ways of performing each step.
“Everything from the exact angle and amount of force required to remove each piece, or how they can skip some parts every other cycle without impacting performance. They can now do this job faster and better than anyone else.
“If an enterprising fellow such as yourself were to collate the data from thousands of menials on exactly how they do their jobs and compare it to the time spent and quality of the work, you could find the optimal manner in which to manage the great machines that you oversee.
“I am not saying that one should break with ritual, but even the most humble of workers might one day have an epiphany. The more workers that one has, and the longer they remain productive, the greater chance you have of improving the performance of your domain. A productive domain is far more likely to garner the attention required for advancement, rather than one that is constantly in a state of renewal and recovery.”
I offer Talliel-Iota-5 the ball of irradiated organic matter from my hand and he picks it up. The plethora of Machine-Spirits surrounding him run up his legs and arms and start tapping at it and chattering to each other. Talliel-Iota-5 can clearly hear them, but I do not think he can see them like I do.
I beckon the older man with a badly maintained implant closer to me and envelop his eyes with a cloud of nanites. Talliel-Iota-5’s Machine-Spirits become rather agitated and he sends a thick stream of prayers towards them.
Talliel-Iota-5 turns a mechadendrite upon my new patient and records my actions, “An interesting philosophy, Magos, yet I remain unconvinced. I understand the thrust of your argument, but I suspect that the resources expended in the scenario that your propose far outweighs the benefits one can accrue through this method. There is simply too much uncertainty for me to gamble vital supplies on individuals who lack the drive and means to uplift themselves beyond their basic tasks.
“It is far better to leave everyone to do their work as best they can and provide an environment where the most talented can rise to the top. Hence my presence here directing those who seek to learn, rather than question those who do not. Dare I say you are looking for an excuse to justify the assistance you grant? Charity is not a sin. Why bother putting so much thought into it when you can warp steel and flesh however you please?”
The ocular implants shift beneath my nanites, slowly moulding into the man’s flesh until they look more like eyes, than crude green sensors.
I say, “Then how do you view the Owl-Class Machine-Spirit Inquisitor Horthstein has requisitioned? The benefits it offers are much the same as the ones I have outlined.”
“Ah! Yes, I do actually want to talk to you about that. With that in play, it would be much easier to spread knowledge and accrue improvements. I understand now why you shared your philosophy with me. You believe I should implement your methods throughout this Inquisitorial strike group.”
“I cannot say for certain, Enginseer Prime. Only you know the intricacies of how the mechanical heart of Petitor Veritas functions. I do think it is worth trialling. I have educational systems in place for all of my personnel as every single one is a member of the Mechanicus.
“I am unsure how much benefit you will see when your numbers are divided between the Mechanicus, Imperial Guard, Imperial Navy, and Inquisition. I do think the other institutions on this vessel would look kindly upon you if you were to improve the ease with which they can educate their own personnel.”
“You have heard of my circumstances? I should not be so surprised.”
“I have not, but would be eager to hear what you have to share.”
Talliel-Iota-5 chuckles with a flat, artificial tone. “It is no great secret. As you can no doubt tell from the specialised grippers on my legs, I am from the Lathe Worlds, where its strange gravities can dislodge an unprepared Tech-Priest working in the void.”
I did not know that at all, though now that he’s pointed it out, the adaptations are quite noticeable, as are the similar extra clamps on the Servo-Harnesses that many apprentices and adepts are using.
I nod, “I have seen the great works of the Lathes throughout the expanse and intend to visit the Lathes for the first time as soon as I can slip through the Maw.”
Talliel-Iota-5 smiles, “I dearly love my homeworlds, thus you can imagine my despair when I was banished from them.” He taps his chest, “I was once a member of the Crimson Guard and this breastplate is all I was allowed to keep. My fellow guards and I got into a scuffle with the Divine Light of Sollex, one of the Lathe factions intent on making ever more destructive weapons.
“They wished to acquire an artefact from Cella, one of the worlds in the Pondus System that houses the three Primary Lathe Worlds, Hadd, Het, and Hesh. Cella is a world rumoured to be entirely artificial and covered in vaults and warehouses. It is the primary storage facility for dangerous artefacts in the system and the Crimson Guard takes its protective duties with the seriousness such a lethal facility requires.
“The Divine Light of Sollex did not have the proper codes to remove the artefact they wanted, believing that their unofficial sponsorship by Arch-Magos Rulwure the Golden, Keeper of the Primary Logis Key and second in command of the Lathe Worlds, was sufficient justification for their claims.
“We objected and terminated the lot of them. It turned out they had overstepped their bounds, but Arch-Magos Rulwure still managed to break up my brotherhood and have us reassigned. It took me almost eighty years to claw my way up the ranks to Enginseer Prime, yet I would abandon it in a moment if I were able to return. I am hoping that my service to the Inquisition will create that opportunity with a sufficiently grand discovery.”