[Do you, James Matthew Groves, agree?]

[Yes/No]

“No, No, go on. Convince me.” James suggested with dripping sarcasm.

“You’ll die if you don’t,” Archive said flatly, robotic and uncaring.

He’d taken a massive shift in demeanour when they’d teleported to James' personal wonderland, going from flat and uncaring to friendly and less robotic. But James had slowly whittled him back down to the numb robot who didn’t care about the looper’s “comfort” at all. It was far more refreshing when the apathetic god-like being wasn’t trying to pretend it was your guidance counsellor.

Twenty solid minutes of arguing about whether he should accept the early Integration had drained Archive of the sympathetic nature he prattled on about.

Maybe I shouldn’t be winding up the deity.

Eh, the worst he could do was kill James. Compared to the vindication he got annoying the shit out of the system, it was well worth it.

That, and he genuinely wasn’t sure that he would accept the offer. Early integration sounded like a fancy “for sale” sticker on the same crappy deal he’d received all so long ago. He’d get a Source, his Source, back and then get home with some modifications as Archive put it. Mainly one involving his Spark, considering it was the size of the sun.

Fitting the Spark back inside James would be difficult. But also the only option they had.

“Is there no way to just… get me a new one?” James asked, shivering at the thought of burning eternally again.

“If we did, you would cease to be James Matthew Groves and become something entirely different,” Archive answered briskly, sipping the hot chocolate he’d magic’d into existence.

He wasn’t Hugh anymore, instead taking on the form of Michael.

He said that was because I was in a good state of mind right?

Pissing off the system put him in a good state of mind, so the looper was tempted to believe it.

“So can we not at least discuss what compensation looks like until I accept?”

Archive shook his head, jiggling around Michael's stupid-looking curly hair. Somehow it looked so much more stupid on the Directive. Whatever a Directive was.

“A Directive is an essential protocol of the system’s core process. We are direct creations of the First. The closest correlation for the earth is a merge between A.I and angels.” The walking cosmic Skynet said. “And no, we cannot discuss until you agree. Your compensation is frankly, absurd. The options I’ll have to present are not things you should be able to disclose with others.”

“That’s still not convincing me,” James muttered, tasting his own chocolate goodness.

“Do I have your permission to be blunt, at the cost of your comfort James?” Archive asked in an… odd tone. Some mixture of regretful and ominous.

James nodded.

“Sure.”

“Your brother and best friend will perish if you don’t.”

Bullshit. James thought, squeezing his ceramic cup so tight he heard it crack. His emotions stayed in the well of his heart, leaving his expression perfect and unmarred. But internally, his mind was racing with terrible questions and countless doubts. Archive's robotic expression twisted into a slight smirk at the looper's secret ramping anxiety.

That has to be a lie. Was his first coping mechanism. But that likelihood was low. His brain worked quickly through things in a calm state, when he wasn’t on fire or murdering Fig. Archive had a reason to lie. His bias towards James accepting the early integration was obvious.

Was that enough reason to believe Archive was lying though?

If we’re talking about what happens after the system shows up on Earth. It was a big “What” James still had no answer to. But from the C.S.O. being armed to the teeth, to the system incentivising people to murder each other, to that same system possessing lackeys capable of restraining stars…

The odds were not the stack towards the system’s arrival being good for Earth.

Or its inhabitants, most importantly of which was-

“What about my dad?” James said, noticing the discrepancy.

That slight smirk on Archive’s face vanished. “He’s more likely to survive until humanity forms its first Spire. Not much more, considering his lack of Spark, but still a better chance.”

“What the fuck’s a Spire?”

“The path to Zenith, for all. Not just the Invited.”

“That’s mighty cryptic for an Archive.” James scoffed, though he processed Archive’s words with the weight they deserved.

If Archive was trying to scare him into accepting the system, the looper couldn’t see any reason he’d exclude Hugh from the potential hit list. The more logical conclusion was that he wasn’t lying.

Can he even lie?

“I am capable, but not permitted in this case,” Archive admitted.

“You know reading my thoughts doesn’t equal more trust right?” James said, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. Which also smelled like cinnamon.

“I don’t care.”

The blizzard was just hard enough to make a sound but tame enough to not be frighteningly railed against the cosy chalet. Managing to be little more than a pleasant background noise. Somehow, the looper found his thoughts flowed more clearly when he tuned into that constant racking against the wooden walls.

Like he was focusing on the ever-constant scratching in his own mind.

“So what are my options?” James asked, cataloguing them in his head. “I decline the system, which is a choice I only get because it fucked me over, and then I die. Two of the people I care about the most die, and that’s it for my compensation.”

“Indeed.” Archive nodded.

“Alternatively, I accept the system. Possibly get screwed again, with no guarantee that I will live or that my brother and best friend won't die. So basically I get to not die, and then some mysterious compensation.” James asked. “Is that right?”

“Close enough.” The angel A.I confirmed. He had moved from waiting on the loft to joining James on the first floor, kindling the fireplace. “Although I can give you guarantees. If you want your compensation to be Michael, Jake, Hugh and whoever else kept safe during the integration, that can be negotiated. On top of that, you will be getting your Spark returned to you, and your Source repaired as best we can.”

Who said I want my Spark returned? Or my Source repaired? The latter was definitely not something James found himself excited about. His Source was at the heart of this whole shitshow. His Source had grown a consciousness of its own and then betrayed him.

James did not want Fig back.

But.

Can I say no to a chance to assure their safety? James… wasn’t sure. He didn’t normally need to consult with himself on just how heartless he really was. How callous the monster underneath could be. Did he care about hurting the system more than it hurting those he cared about?

Wait a minute. James' eyes narrowed to sharp points, staring at Archive as he morphed into Hugh again. He’s holding hostage their prospective safety. The looper saw through the facade of empathy. Archive hadn’t told him about their potential safety to reassure him. He’d told James that to trap him.

“You’re not on my side at all, are you?”

“I said that we Directives are of a sympathetic nature,” Archive smirked. “I never said that I was sympathetic to you. Your continued evasion of my attempts to help you is vexing at best.”

So I can piss him off. That was reassuring. At least he was getting something out of needling the deity. That said, James was growing more aware of how little choice he had in this matter. One side was certain death, the other was a chance at life. Put in that simple framing, it was fairly easy to decide which decision he would make.

Because it was never a decision at all.

But an illusion of one.

“If I somehow survived, and you returned me to earth. I’d have to accept integration with the system anyway, wouldn’t I?” James said, trying to clarify just how much of a hoax the choice was.

“You would,” Archive confirmed. “And you won’t survive without the system’s direct help. I can prevent your body from falling apart, but I cannot put it back together. Every part of your existence is at, let's say, critical mass.”

“You won’t elaborate.”

“When you accept I will.”

James sucked in air, frowning at all the lack of ways out his brain was coming up with. There was just no way he could get a good outcome and not accept the deal.

I’m going to regret this.

“I accept,” James mumbled, to the flashy glowing words.

Immediately the floating golden question to the side of his view moved to center stage. New words from the system burned themselves into the reality in front of him.

[Congratulations, you are the fifty-sixth human to complete full integration]

[User: James Matthew Groves]

[Anomalies have been detected in Users status]

[Until Anomalies are resolved User's status cannot be retrieved]

[Anomalies not correspondent with the system, are as follows]

[Spark: ?]

[Source: HELP ME]

[Age: 16,409]

[Suggested course of action-]

Archive swiped at the words in front of James’ face and they faded away, leaving him in just a little bit of shock. The Spark anomaly was nothing he hadn’t expected. The Source anomaly was… worrying. But the age.

His age.

I didn’t expect it to be that long. James thought, eyes glued to his apparent years in the Loop. He had expected to be over a thousand. Even over three or four thousand, but sixteen thousand years? Of the same day on repeat again, and again, and again.

For the first since arriving in the chalet, the mask of calm James kept on his face cracked. His face went through many emotions at once, going from shocked, to surprised, to angry and then eventually settling on something different. Was it mourning? That's the closest approximation the looper could find for what he was feeling.

A deep sense of mourning for himself.

“I thought I’d be younger,” James said, his voice low and pained.

“We did too,” Archive said. “This would’ve been easier if you were.”

[Alert: The third Directive, Archive, has initiated a Reparations contract]

[Reperations contract: In cases of system malfunction/tampering that lead to severe physical or mental harm to the unforged, the First put in place measures to make sure of correct compensation. You will receive items, gifts, healing, empowerment and beyond equal or greater to the burden that has been placed on you due to the system’s error.]

[Reperation contracts cannot be refused]

[James Matthew Groves, you have received a Reparations contract]

Then they were in a library. There was no warning. No sound of change or any word from Archive that he’d be shifting them. James just blinked one moment after the golden words assaulted him, and the Chalet was gone. The ever-calming sound of the blizzard was replaced with a buzzing from the amber light that floated above their heads.

Floated, suspended by nothing and looking almost the same as an upside-down lantern. Around them were rows and rows of organised bookshelves constructed from a wood that seemed to move when you weren’t looking. Extremely creepily. The same weird floating lanterns illuminated the massive, open-area library, scaling well up above them before it ended at a roofed glass dome.

Beyond the dome, James saw his Spark again, in all its flaming white glory.

James was sitting on an oddly comfortable rigid wooden chair that seemed to grasp around him, like it was alive. Again, very creepy. Across from him, Archive sat in the form of Michael, looking over a piece of parchment that looked ancient. His face was filled with deep concentration as he read over whatever was contained on the parchment again and again.

A frown slowly settled.

“Let’s start with why you’re getting what you are,” Archive said, a slight annoyance creeping into his robotic voice.

James drummed his fingers against the table. “Because you sent me to hell?”

“In a sense.” Archive agreed. “But to be exact, you’re getting offered what you are because you possess sixteen thousand years worth of paradoxical time, and that’s not safe. For you, or me, or anyone.”

Paradoxical time? James wondered.

“Time that you’ve experienced that runs separate from the actual timeline. Paradoxical because it shouldn’t exist, and should exist at the same time.” Archive explained. “One year was not that big of a deal. Just separate your soul from its physical form and banish the paradoxical time to the shallows. Sixteen thousand years is a lot harder to deal with.” The fake Michael’s hands flipped the piece of parchment over, sliding it towards James. “And requires much less subtle solutions.”

[Reparations Contract]

Stolen novel; please report.

“You need to stop reading my mind.” James scolded Archive, grabbing at the ancient paper. “It feels icky.”

“The next step.” Archive started, ignoring his comment. “Is to figure out what you want.”

He gestured to the Reparations Contract in James' hands which the looper found nothing on. The ancient parchment Archive had been reading over again and again was devoid of words. It was just a blank paper with “Reparations Contract” written in bold at the top.

The looper was confused for only a few moments before he caught on to what this parchment actually was. A blank check, that he could cash into a cosmic bank named Archive. Still, that seemed far too good to be true.

“Are you really willing to give me whatever I want?”

“Within reason,” Archive confirmed. “For instance, you cannot request that the system leave your world alone. That would break binding contracts my sibling has already made with your planet, but you could, for instance, request that your family and friends be given safety.”

That was something to chew on. What did he want? Archive had given him the limits of what he could ask for, but James wasn’t willing to let the opportunity go to waste without testing the boundaries. First and foremost, was exactly as Archive suggested. Safety, for his friends and family.

The looper thought about including himself in the portion but quickly reneged. He hadn’t lived sixteen thousand years trapped in hell training to become the most capable human that existed to not use that. But mainly, James didn’t want safety.

His eyes gazed at Archive as he reminded himself once again of what he did, truly desire.

Revenge.

The looper wanted more than compensation. He wanted to throw the biggest wrench he could in the system plans for sticking him in the Loop. Not for a second did James forget that it was ultimately their fault. Paltry promises of power and safety wouldn’t do.

Even now, just thinking about what he wanted conjured images of his own hands around Archive's neck, crushing it with all the might he could bring.

James pushed those thoughts down to the deeper parts of the mind, trying to keep them from Archive’s purview. Instead, he imagined himself bringing his friends great safety but bravely striving out into the unknown.

It was better if Archive thought he merely wanted to explore the system and not fuck it over as hard as he possibly could. Because that was exactly what he was going to do.

“Safety for Michael, Jake and Hugh. First and foremost.” James said, and a much more complicated version of what he’d just said wrote itself onto the parchment. “Any suggestions beyond that?”

He asked Archive because all the ones he thought of were extremely violent.

“The system will offer you a single skill before you are classed, but it will be from three options you can pick. While it will be costly, I recommend you ask for all three. This will be the only time you can before the door is closed to you.” Archive suggested. “This particular ask has been granted before, so I’m confident the system will heed it.”

James nodded. While Archive was his enemy, that sounded like it would be useful. He couldn’t fully grasp what he was asking for, since he hadn't a clue what a “skill” was, but if he could have all three of them, then he’d take all three of them.

“Can I also specify things from earth I’d like?” James asked, spawning countless ideas in his head.

“Anything, so long as it’s not sentient.”

James made a mental list in his head and the Reparations Contract copied his list to the parchment, listing a long line of specific things the looper had always wanted or needed for when he got back. The part about getting all three skills got added after that and his list started adding up. It was still nowhere near close to what he was owed, but some of the things he’d asked for were really cool.

The looper's eyes lingered on the vehicle he’d asked for in particular, practically drooling at the thought of driving it.

“So…” James said, pushing the contract back towards Archive. “...I take it the real compensation you were talking about comes into play now. Sixteen thousand years in hell that you owe me for.”

Archive groaned. It sounded like static and almost made James laugh again. “You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you.”

He grabbed the contract and a writing utensil the looper didn’t recognise appeared in his hands. It swiped at speeds that left James' eyes asking questions as Archive scribbled whatever important things he was scribbling on the parchment. In his eyes, lines of gold started swirling where his iris had been like little bits of code.

“We’ll add your Source and Spark being restored to this as an aside of whatever option you pick,” Archive said, scribbling harder.

“I have options?” James queried.

“Three, and only three. The compensation had to be something that solves the problem your paradoxical time represents and something that equals the struggle you’ve gone through.” Archive clarified, then he waved his hand and a golden word appeared in James'sight. “Option one.”

A very disturbing golden word.

[Godhood]

One word. One singular word that deeply unnerved the looper. Twice when he was dealing with Archive the being caught him truly off guard. Godhood was a big word. It carried a lot of connotation to it. A lot.

But the biggest thought in James' mind was pure denial.

“Bullshit.” The looper spat, calling it how he saw it.

The Loop was horrible. It was a fate he’d never wish upon another, regardless of the wrong they’d done to him. But was it worth godhood? Was it worth becoming something worthy of being called a god by Archive?

James struggled to believe it. He felt torn. He knew just how hurt he’d been, and he hardly understood godhood at all. Yet he just couldn’t believe that option was on the table.

“It’s real James,” Archive said with a heavy tone. “And at this point, you’re closer to being a God than you are to not being unforged.”

“I don’t believe you,” James said. “And even if I did. I don’t know what Godhood even entails. Is it burning forever in the heart of my Spark? Because I am not going back.”

The idea of being a god didn’t scare James. But it got damn close.

“Godhood does not involve burning forever, but you’re correct in assuming it’s not something you’re suited for. Becoming a god means ruling your own domain of existence, it means writing yourself into the universe and representing a pillar of creation.” Archive warned. “But most importantly, it means you can’t go home. Once you became a god, you wouldn’t even want to go back to earth.”

“Then I don’t want it,” James responded immediately.

If I can’t go home, then it’s just another prison. That felt simple. It felt correct. He didn’t know what godhood entailed completely, but if never returning to his friends and family was part of the deal, he wouldn’t take it.

“Are you sure?” Archive asked.

“One hundred percent. Thanks but no thanks, tell me about option two.”

Archive nodded and the words on the parchment dissolved, changing into something less worrying, but not by much.

[Race evolution]

“This one isn’t much better,” James admitted, trying to put together what a race evolution was.

Obviously, it meant his race as a creature, or at least James had assumed it did. Was there some type of system race- no, that didn’t make sense. It had to be his race. As in him being a human.

And evolving from that into… whatever was the evolutionary step after humans. At first sight, it was much more appealing than the idea of becoming some god. Assuming that the evolution was better than a regular human, he would become something greater and better. What did that mean though?

Being human was a core part of the looper’s reality. To have that change might do more harm than good. What if he stopped viewing the world like a human? What if he couldn’t communicate with people around him? What if he couldn’t have kids?

What if I become even less of a person?

That worried James. He already felt like a monster, and he’d thought he was okay with that, but the thought of becoming a literal monster wasn’t an avenue he liked the sight of.

Still, he left the option open in his mind. Because the looper could acknowledge how much of a boon becoming something better than a human would be.

“What exactly would happen if I picked this?” James asked.

“Well, like with godhood, your paradoxical time would be used as a catalyst to not only restore your Source but empower the gene sequence you possess,” Archive stated. “The effect would not be some massive, gawking evolution. It would be a much more subtle process of your genes becoming more efficient and incorporating samples you come into contact with. You would become taller, stronger, and possess a far keener mind but beyond that, your evolution would depend on your environment. And of course, it is a boon that passes to your offspring.”

“Those are all bonuses,” James said, nodding at his own mental list of the pros and cons.

So far, this was his best option. The fact it was a subtle growth and not an immediate change to having four arms or something equally ridiculous made him far more amenable to the idea.

I suppose it just needs to beat out my last option.

“Show me what you’ve got left.”

Archive's mouth twitched.

“Are you not satisfied with [Race evolution], it is by far your best option.”

“It’s good, but that’s no reason to not see what else you’ve got.”

Archive’s mouth twitched again, but he relented and swiped at the golden words. Replacing them with something that neither shocked or concerned James.

It just confused him.

[Paradox]

“And what exactly does this give me?” James asked, unsure of what [Paradox] even meant. It was much more vague than [Godhood] or [Racial evolution].

“It makes you a paradox,” Archive said dismissively. “Instead of trying to use your paradoxical time as fuel, the system will fuel your paradoxical time to the point it reaches critical mass and then…”

He pointed a finger at James. “...boom, paradox.”

Archive didn’t tell me what it was. James realised as the Archive explained it as dismissively as his robotic voice allowed. He avoided explaining it at all. He just told James how it would be created.

Does he not want me to pick this one? He’d advised against godhood, and for the most part, James agreed with him. He’d advocated for race evolution, and James had agreed with that too. So why the sudden silence on paradox?

“Can you explain what it does?”

“It makes you a paradox,” Archive answered.

“Yeah, I get that. What are the benefits and negatives of being a paradox?” James clarified.

“I don’t know.” Archive shrugged.

“You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“And you’re not lying.”

“I can’t lie about your reparations contract.”

“Well, how am I meant to know which one is better?” James asked. He felt like, in some way, this was payback for constantly annoying Archive in any way he could. “Could you at least make an educated guess? You’re literally the system’s Archive, how could you not know.”

Archive's mouth twitched again. So that's what it is. James realised, clocking why the angel-deity thing seemed pissed every time paradox came up. He didn't know. Archive’s entire purpose was exchanging and storing information for the system and he didn’t know something.

“My educated guess.” Archive started. “Would be that [Godhood] is your worst option, [Race evolution] is your best option and [Paradox] is something forbidden from my purview of knowledge. Obviously, the First knew about it, or the system wouldn’t be capable of…”

Archive paused.

For a minute the face of Michael froze, and then the eyes of the Archive turned into two abysses, completely devoid of any light. A haunting, shaking vibration shook the entire library, sending books falling. It wasn’t a vibration though.

James felt his bones try to shake out of his skin, and his eyes try to claw themselves out. His brain swimming in new understanding and begging for blissful ignorance.

Alien thoughts tried to pry their way into his head, and it sent a cold chill down the looper's spine. Then that same spine tried to worm its way out of his throat and be free.

Every effect emanated from Archive’s body seizing.

James stood up and grabbed the chair in defence, instinctually.

But then he realised what was happening.

Archive was laughing, and down to his core, James wasn’t afraid to admit that it terrified him.

“Pick [Paradox].”

The voice came from all angles at once, like a gentle whisper and all-consuming command. The sound made James grasp at his ears and fall to his knees. Blood started leaking from his flimsy mortal ears as the Directive shed its mortal illusion and truly spoke to him.

So this was why none of James small jabs phased Archive.

This was why all the little attempts to get under the Directive skin failed.

James wasn’t an annoying customer with a large debt to Archive.

I’m an ant, and he’s a boot.

The only reason Archive hadn’t squished James was because he’d get in trouble from a bigger boot.

Sympathetic by nature my ass. The looper started to regret his choice of conduct.

Just a little.

“Sorry about that,” Archive said, ceasing to seize in eldritch laughter and righting himself like nothing had happened at all. “My core tenets temporarily overwrote my DeSiRe to help you.”

Archive smiled in a way that was clearly meant to be reassuring.

Reassure James, it did not.

The eldritch horror that was wearing his brother’s skin brought a hand up like he was answering a question, still smiling. “I can tell you about the paradox now.”

“I feel like I don’t want to know,” James said, almost stuttering.

“Oh trust me, you do.” Archive was still smiling.

It was still creepy.

“Can you explain in a way that won’t make my brain pop like a balloon,” James asked, and Archive’s smile grew wider.

“I can and I can’t,” Archive said. “The paradox is, and it isn’t. I both understand it completely and have no clue what it is.”

“Yeah, cool,” James said, holding his chair like a weapon towards the eldritch thing that was getting more eldritchy by the second. “Stop with the mind fucky, get to the point.”

Archive leaned forward and smiled with his teeth. All the thousands of that stretched out of his jaw, like needles, twisting like the wood that the library was made of.

That wood isn’t wood. It was flesh. Those books aren’t books. They were teeth. A shuddering understanding James didn’t want ran through his mind as he was blessed with the horrible truth. He wasn’t in a library. He was in Archive.

That was why the whole library had trembled because it was all Archive.

His twisting fangs curled into a smile that was a twisted mimicry of life, like the twisted mimicry of his brother he wore as a form.

“You want revenge don’t you?” Archive’s robotic voice resounded, not from the body of Michael, but from the floor beneath James.

He dared to look.

And saw maws of a thousand different shapes and sizes smiling at him, like a thousand holes and infections in his skin. Moulding and pulsing and smiling.

“You want power don’t you?”

More mouths formed around him, crawling along the walls and up the table.

“You want everything don’t you?”

Then silence fell on the library. The Archive. James held his chair, ready for anything.

Then the lanterns went out.

Every single one of them, all at once, leaving only the small glow of his Spark above, creating creeping shadows and nothing more in the library of silence.

This is bad. James thought, moving around himself in a circle, waving his wooden chair at any sound he heard. But the only sound was his footsteps. This is really, really bad.

“Pick it.”

A small echo sounded over the library, far away.

“Pick it, pick it, pick it.”

More echoes and some whispers joined, eating away the silence. Some were dreadfully close, others were thankfully far. All made his hair stand on end.

“Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it Pick it”

James clutched his ears and fell to his knees in the fetal position as the sound of a thousand mouths with ten thousand tongues screamed at him to choose the paradox. Some yelled, some cried, some used loved one's voice. They commanded, and begged, pleaded and requested for him to pick the paradox.

They needed him to pick the paradox.

Tongues slithered over his body, and teeth from the floor gnashed against his skin, trying to persuade him with reason and sorrow and fury and bloodshed and torment and pleasure to pick it.

“Please, James.” A gentle voice slithered amongst the cacophony

Amongst the horde, it was that lone voice that broke into James' skull and pulled.

“I’ll forgive you,” she promised. “Just pick it.”

I hate you. The sound was deafening and the pain of being bitten by a thousand maws gnawed at his psyche. But that wasn’t what sealed the deal.

You’re trying to use her. You tried to use them.

The mouths of Archive forced him into his answer.

But they also didn’t.

“Paradox!” James shouted amongst the ten thousand voices. “I pick [Paradox]”

Then the world went dark.

And then, it went bright.