IXCEPTION
There aren’t many spots where someone can just hang out on the walls of Ix the Undying, the City Unstoppable, to watch the sun(s) rise[1]. The walls around the city were patrolled by the Eparchy of Defense, looking for monsters trying to get inside. Where they weren’t patrolled, there were auto-defenses; and where it wasn’t bristling with autoguns there was sensor and measuring equipment; and where there weren’t antenna the walls were spiked and armored and shielded. A few spots were claimed by influential Sets who built luxury terraces to enjoy the view, and the terraces also had defense soldiers and autoguns and sensor gear and spikes. You couldn’t be too careful.
But aside from that there were a few little-known spots where a clever citizen could peer over and beyond to the Outside. You had to keep the visits short, since they were prime spots for monsters to get at the unwary, or spots where a quick wind could sweep you off. Also, they were partially Outside, which was itself somewhat toxic. But, if you could tolerate the air, you could enjoy the apocalyptic nightmare of the terrain Outside.
If you looked down a kilometer or so, the walls eventually hit the mass of treads and lifters at the bottom of Ix that allowed it to crawl along without getting mired in the ground. And crawl Ix had to. Everybody knew that as an indisputable fact: Stopping meant Death. If Ix stopped, mutants, raiders and worse would slowly home in on it. The air would coagulate. The very ground would suck it down, if it could. Outside was just another threat.
So Ix, filled with the cargo of life Ix carried, kept moving.
One Zen stood on a forward balcony her Set owned. She didn’t care about monsters (she was lethal when she had to be), nor toxic air (lung upgrades), nor being blown off (SmartHeelz.) She had come out at dawn to look at the only view that mattered as far as she cared: the Figureheads. Dozens of different statues of the Imperatrix of Ix, Ix Incarnate Herself, hung from the front of Ix, looking out in all different directions. Each one was a different aspect of Her Mechanical Majesty and they ranged in size from human to the mammoth one at the top of the prow. They all carried tokens of office and most of them were armed as well. Live guns, of course: Her Majesty was always practical.
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The Zen was praying, a simple prayer naming all the aspects. That wouldn’t have surprised an observer, as the Zen wore the suit, habit and fedora of the Eparchy of Auditrixes, a bueroreligious office of the most lethal all-femme combat tax assessors and investigators on Ix. Her eyes were hidden by a privacy veil, her briefcase and guns nearby.
“Her Majesty Mechanicae Fortuna”, she said, counting them rhythmically from memory. “Our Lady of Clipboards and Records. Imperatrix of the Divine Redundant Backups, Nine Nine’s Uptime Unto Her. Visage of Our Most Holy Life Support. Mother of Reclamation. Lady… Lady of…”
Shabhail Set Limina, Auditrix 1st class, trailed off her prayer. The Figurehead she was counting had moved. Not so unusual, as some of Her mechanized aspects moved occasionally, and to move when being prayed to was a good omen, but this one had turned Her head to look forward and slightly to port. Just a casual little turn.
What was making Shabhail’s skin crawl was that slowly all the Figureheads, one by one, turned to look the same way. As far as Shabhail knew (and she would know, as she was more than passing devout and also was a bit of a history nerd on aspects) that had never happened before. Even Our Sister of Spreadsheets and Shotguns, one of the Patrons of her order, had moved, and was now holding Her hair out of Her face so She could see better.
As far as Shabhail knew, Our Sister of Spreadsheets and Shotguns had never moved. Plus Her body looked like it was made of crete, so the hair moving thing was a bit off-putting.
By the time Shabhail had mustered up the gumption to start her prayer over again, a runner from the home office had found her to say her presence was requested, so she didn’t get a chance to finish.
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1. Usually one, but sometimes it looked like two, and sometimes three or five or none. One most of the time, though.