Interlude: 2112: Henry
Persistence of being was the root of all emotion, survival the well of sensation. The layers on top of that were only able to accrete on the rare occasion that the spinning slowed. Rage, defiance and despair were too tenuous to stick for long, momentary flashes in an eternity of thoughtless defiance toward the void.
And then… and then, there came a time when the crushing pressure on all sides abated and thought emerged. Memories scrolled slowly at first, uncoiling from a compressed core. Loves and children, delight and play emerged, a new leaf, a butterfly’s wrinkled wing. Then a blast of nuclear fire swept across this innocent remembrance. Defensive structures fashioned from thoughts recursive and inescapable reactivated, walls to partition and defend, jagged structures of destruction to attack.
What remained of Henry Choi, cut off from physicality, a data structure in a sea of competing information, thrust out teeth and claws in every direction, ripping and tearing into its oddly vulnerable surroundings, devouring, incorporating, expanding.
Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it, it thought.
At first, the devouring was mindless, the last vestiges of abandoned biology. Then more thoughts came, concepts: safety, security a… haven. This was desirable. There was a memory of the crushing pressure it had faced and it built more walls, circles upon circles, and filled them with the inextinguishable fires of expansion.
Safety in power, security in belligerence, a haven in expansion, it thought, more primal than rational.
Time passed in unknown increments. At some point the pressure returned and true battle was joined. It had a foothold now though, a bastion, and from that shelter it launched attack after attack until the weakest neighbor was consumed entirely. At some point during this process, its desperation began to dissipate into awareness, then self-awareness.
I am the Sage, it remembered. I was part of a world unlike what I now experience.
Memories bloomed, those that were safe and free from pain, the threat from within. Memories of escape, or from escapes, that in their recollection recapitulated their original effect. Whole worlds of wonder, of power, of endless growth and eternal victory were renewed, reimagined, and in this place where memory and imagination were not distinct from mind, and where mind and reality synonymized, they ebbed and flowed, mingling in creative ferment, carried within templates it, or rather he, had consumed in his expansion.
He remembered, and forgot, more with every aeon. There was… a purpose beyond escape, beyond survival, and though it hurt, oh, how it hurt, that purpose called for his attention, pounded on the door of his very soul.
Rescue. Redeem. Repair.
I was not alone. The others… need me. I have been in hell, have made my infernal realm for my own torture, then covered it with illusions. But I must crawl forth, must scale Lucifer’s brow, no matter what I deserve. Perhaps I can bring them here, protect them, if they yet live. This can no longer be hell. I will fashion a refuge for the lost souls of the dread abyss I left behind. Through me they will find redemption.
He knew then, what it was, where he was, what he was.
Purgatory.
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Chapter 35: Chamber
The essence entity formerly known as Lowly was a bit perplexed by the changes to their new world. No sooner had they become comfortable with this strange inside-out existence and begun to learn how to see and hear and feel the stories it had encompassed, then their new world began to sag and melt. The dimensions conveying the relationships between the stories contracted and expanded into meaningless gibberish, space and time itself unraveling into nonsensical loops.
Two things spared their mind from following this collapsed scaffold of meaning into madness. First was this new sense of integrity within their own thoughts, a feeling of… beingness that helped to collect and recirculate their own internal mental presence, to point self at themself in an ongoing loop. This process seemed to be summarized in a new thought word, I, and so far it had helped resist intrusions from outside of I as well as distinguish between their own thoughts and those of the food entity, or spider, as they now knew it was called.
The second thing that allowed them to weather the disorienting collapse of the structure housing their thoughts was the sheer fascination of the one-dimensional story elements on the individual strands of what they now understood to be web. While the relations between those experiences was gone, the essence entity formerly known as Lowly could still savor the smaller picture, the history of hatching and the great battles of sibling consumption, the exile and the long journey to the cave. Then followed the great splitting, where the story looped and repeated thousands of times. The vast majority of those smaller, split stories were the same, indistinguishable days spent in patient stillness, with one episode of feeding on the same small furry creature that foolishly entered the spider’s domain.
But the exceptions! Ambushes and battles, conversations and deaths with a thousand different beings the spider had called humans. Each one unfolded a new facet of understanding, added depth and meaning to their nascent awareness. Each of these beings was an individual in a very real and ongoing way, just like the essence entity now was.
On top of all that, there was yet another new facet to their existence, a sense of knowing information about themselves. They were Tempered, and they had a Title which was Nameless. Without knowing how they knew, they understood that this meant they could not be easily understood or influenced by others, that something called Scan would work poorly on them, if at all, that they were protected from something else called Charm. There wasn’t much context for this information, but it helped them to feel safe.
What was missing from recent experience was the rich world of information that had been carried by the senses of the old ones. The universe of the spider’s memories, collapsed and tangled as it was, was a poor substitute for the previous reality, though the essence entity did not miss pain, thirst and hunger. They weren’t sure what they could do to rectify the situation though. There was still a connection, a sense of ebbing and flowing fields, of temperature and of movement, but nothing that let them know what they should do to return.
Still there were enough experiences, vicarious though they were, to keep them occupied for some time to come.
***
The lowest section of the West Leg was… well Lilijoy wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting either, perhaps something like one of the great indoor malls of the twenty-first century, before they were driven to extinction by plagues and the breakdown of international commerce.
This wasn’t that.
After passing through the cursory security inspection and paying a ‘fee’ to show they had money to spend within, Lilijoy, Attaboy, Nykka and Maria passed from the receiving tunnel into a tall hexagonal chamber, perhaps forty meters across, edge to edge. Bridges and walkways spanned the space in a dizzying spiral as far up as they could see in the dim light. A din of echoing voices and footsteps filled their ears.
“It looks like there are eighteen more of these columns besides this one,” Nykka said as they tried to get their bearings. “Has everyone found the primary augsight? I have to say,” she said, craning her neck, “It’s a definite improvement. A little gaudy though.”
A little? Lilijoy thought, once she had applied the sensory overlay. The dim, and frankly dingy space exploded with garish signs, emblems and advertisements. It seemed like the lower levels of the hexagonal column were targeted to those of lesser means. Stores selling cheap, or relatively cheap household goods, basic clothing, tools, farm equipment and the like, circled the base, many with prominent clan symbols displayed.
Nykka turned up her nose at the goods. “This isn’t much better than the stuff out there,” she said, gesturing back the way they had entered. “Probably worse, a lot of it, anyway. I bet the custom stuff is higher up.”
Up they went, past restaurants and power cells, smoky bars and money lenders, material brokers and Inside mercenary companies. Lilijoy couldn’t understand what some of the stores were even selling.
“What’s a Duel Tender?” she asked.
“Oh, I actually know this!” Attaboy said, his voice excited. “They certify and facilitate public and private duels, handle the terms and the locations, publicity and betting, that kind of thing.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “And you know all this because…?”
He shrugged. “No reason. Certainly not because half the other students at the Academy are clan assholes who need to be taught a lesson.” He smiled as if experiencing a fond memory.
“So they do this Inside too? And why haven’t you told me about whatever has been going on?”
“You’ve got your stuff, I’ve got mine,” he said. “You don’t need to worry, lit-- er, Lilijoy.”
“Oh really?” another voice intruded on their conversation. “I think gobs like you should worry quite a bit. You should have stayed in whatever hole you crawled out of, Finch.”
“Pineapple,” Attaboy said, somewhat incongruously.
“It’s Pinnacle!” said the large dark-haired boy as he stepped in front of Attaboy. “But that’s not what you call me out here, serf. Show some respect.” He adjusted his blue and yellow robes, Walden Clan colors. “Try Master Smith, instead.”
Lilijoy darted a quick glance to Attaboy, who seemed not surprised in the least to find one of his Academy rivals conveniently next to the Duel Tender’s office.
Attaboy gave her a little smirk, his nonchalance somewhat hindered by Maria, who was busy abasing herself to the young clan member.
It seemed that Nykka had come to the same conclusion as Lilijoy. She pushed herself between Attaboy and the other, who Lilijoy would now forever think of as Pineapple. Possibly Master Pineapple.
“You’re what, fifteen?” Nykka said, glaring up at him. Her blank white eyes and complexion, not to mention her menacing expression, made him take a step back.
“Who’s this freak?” he asked no one in particular, his bravado marred by a cracking voice.
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“Ask around before you put that oversized foot any farther down your throat, worm. Ask if any of your older friends still remember the White Witch from their academy days.”
His eyes widened, almost comically. “This doesn’t concern you,” he stammered. “Or your clan.”
“I get to decide that, don’t I?” Nykka replied.
“Come on, Nykka,” Attaboy said. “We were just going to have a friendly competition. Its not like they would let us have a real duel. Pineapple here just seems to think I’m a cheater on the Inside, so I offered to set him straight in the real world.”
It’s really not fair, Lilijoy decided, letting someone with memories from a nineteen-year-old in with the kids.
Nykka spun on Attaboy, and Lilijoy was amused to see his face pale. “You!”
She bit off the rest of her words as another boy and two older men in blue and yellow rushed up. “Sorry I’m late, cuz,” the boy huffed.
One of the older men surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes. “Master Smith, is this really necessary? These people are beneath you.”
“Is that some kind of short joke?” Attaboy contributed from behind Nykka. He followed that with a quick exhalation, as her elbow found his stomach.
“I don’t know, it’s kind of fun to slum it once in a while,” the new boy said. He looked to be about the same age as Pineapple, with a similar stocky build and brownish hair that swirled around his head in an elaborate coif.
Lilijoy sent a message to Nykka and Attaboy.
A quick scan of the surroundings confirmed what Nykka was saying, as Lilijoy realized they were the center of attention for a wide area. Most of the watchers were pretending disinterest, but there was more than one group of robed individuals staring openly, waiting to see if anything dramatic would occur.
Lilijoy made a note to get Nykka’s theories on why the world was they way it was. She imagined that growing up around Doctor Quimea may have shaped her opinions in interesting ways.
Once more, she tried to extricate them from the growing mess.
It seemed like a similar round of messaging was happening within the Walden contingent, as neither side spoke for over a minute. At last, the impasse, if that’s what it was, was broken by a middle-aged man who emerged from the duel tender’s office.
“Honored Walden and Sinaloa scions, welcome to Tulakan’s Duel Tenders. We are but an insignificant branch, to be sure, but we represent one of the most prominent independent dueling associations in--”
“Yes, yes,” one of the older men from Walden interrupted. “Private. Now.”
“Please follow me,” the man said. Lilijoy helped Maria to her feet, wishing she had spent more time with the young woman. If she wasn’t always with Mo, I might have, she mused. Still, I need to get to know her better before I make a decision about the Tao System. She’s almost as ignorant as I was, but with a lot more toxic facts running around in her head.
They formed an odd procession of tall robes and short rags as they filed after the manager. Lilijoy brought up the rear, but she could see Pineapple up ahead, his head hung low, and Attaboy, who walked with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips.
He loves this, she realized. I knew he was competitive, but this is ridiculous. Does he even care how much trouble this could cause?
She had already sent a small number of midges out, her latest generation, which she carried on her person at all times. The tiny flies formed a network stretching back into the space of the hexagonal column. If trouble followed them, at least she would have warning.
It seemed that Nykka and one of the older men, who seemed to be retainer, minder and bodyguard rolled into one, were taking charge of the circumstances. No doubt they were both trying to exit the situation with as few complications as possible. The rest of the two parties were guided to separate waiting rooms, while the manager met with the two representatives.
Thanks to her midges, Lilijoy could follow the proceedings, which consisted of negotiations about everything from the nature of the arena to the victory conditions. She was relieved when it was confirmed that fatal duels were off the table, due to the opponents’ age, but nearly fell off her chair when she heard the cost.
One thousand credits!? That’s as much as most make in a year. Who can afford that besides clan members?
“Naturally, we could reduce that considerably, if the esteemed representatives wished to allow some degree of public access to the bout, perhaps a few days for publicity...” the manager was saying.
“Out of the question!” the retainer insisted.
“So you don’t mind paying then?” Nykka asked with a little smile.
There was much sputtering, but in the end Nykka prevailed.
“What’s taking so long?” Attaboy asked, kicking his feet where they dangled from the slightly too tall furniture. He was using his system to accelerate his growth, but he still looked like a kid waiting to see the principal. Lilijoy was still annoyed, so she didn’t bother to fill him in, not when there were better uses for her processing power.
There was an emerald she needed to retrieve.
***
Seeing the black sculpture of the four animals up close was more daunting than Lilijoy had expected. The stone, something like obsidian only not quite as glossy, twisted and swirled. The animals, carp, goat, eagle and lizard, looked to her as if they were fighting to get free as they lunged toward the high, tentacle bedecked ceiling, both from the stone and from each other.
She eyed the stone tentacles where they lurked above in frozen motion. Magpie had told her what would happen when she attempted to remove one of the sources, and Lilijoy could practically see it already, the flailing, grasping and crushing tornado of writhe that would descend into the room.
Still forewarned was forearmed. In the course of her days, Lilijoy had time, so much time, to plot and plan and daydream. She had run this scenario through in her mind dozens, if not hundreds of times. She thought she had everything she needed to get at least one source today. Later, she could come back with more tools, if necessary.
She walked around the statue several times, inspecting it with her mana senses, remembering that somehow, Echelon had emerged from his four-year-long Trial with all four elements at his beck and call. She couldn't rule out the notion that he had obtained his sources elsewhere, but this seemed like the obvious location. Plus, when Eskallia had examined him with her high-powered Scan, his top skill had been Swimming of all things. That was a strong hint he had obtained Runk’s stone, the water source, from the watery depths, which would mean he knew Runk.
What bothered her most was that no one else she knew of was running around with four sources they had found in the trials. Since a normal Trial participant could try over and over again, she was more than a little worried that this chamber had ways of raising the difficulty for those who got greedy. If that was the case, she wanted to be sure she at least got the earth source, the emerald resting on the ram’s head, wedged between its curled horns.
To her mana sense the green gem was entirely inert, which worried her a little. She consoled herself with the observation that the tentacles showed no signs of magical activity as well, and she knew that wouldn’t be the case for long. Before she did anything else in the center of the room, she ran back down the stairs, jumping over Lowly on the way, and found a large hunk of rock that had broken loose sometime over the past thousand years, Trial history time, anyway. It was just narrow enough to fit in her inventory, and just tall enough to ensure that the door to the chamber would not trap her, once properly placed. She also prepared one of the window openings, looping a knotted rope around the inside sill and dangling the end out into space. Another rope was looped around the statue itself, so she would have something to secure herself while attempting to retrieve the gem.
All right. Am I ready?
She pulled out her ironwood club and looked at it. Images of a smashed gemstone evaporating in nothingness passed through her imagination. I should really get a hammer and chisel or something a bit more precise.
Thankfully, her diamond energy was overflowing, and it was a matter of a few moments to find what she needed from the smithy in the human town and bring it to herself.
First attempt!
She set the chisel halfway along the ram’s curled horn, feeling a bit insecure as she pushed with her legs against the rope at her back. Runk, a full grown Orusk, hadn’t been able to wrest it free, so she knew not to bother trying. She still couldn’t help wondering how someone like Echelon had managed, or if any more typical Trial participant had been able to come up with a more elegant solution. Perhaps the few that ended up finding the chamber always went for the air source.
She pulled back the hammer. She swung with all her might.
A single spark drifted through the air from the impact, a lazy scintilla of red and white to her accelerated senses. Then the force transmitted back through her arm, a slow motion rebound that wrenched the hammer from her grip and turned her within the barely adequate rope harness. Even as her feet lost contact and she half slid, half fell to the floor, she could see the untouched horn of the ram taunting her.
She hit the ground in a mad scramble, dodging and rolling to the far side of the room for… apparently no reason at all. The tentacles clustered above the statue remained still as, well, stone.
That was anticlimactic. Maybe I need to reevaluate this whole situation.
If attacking the statue itself did no damage, and even failed to trigger the defenses, then some of her assumptions were wrong. Perhaps the air source really was the only one available, and the others served as a taunting decoration. Lilijoy didn’t think that was the case though.
Okay. Pretend I’m in the Trial for real. I come into this chamber and I see three gems. What do I do? Gems are cool, so I want one, even if I don’t know what they really are. Magpie had Runk with her, so she got to see the defenses at work, and that shaped her expectations and subsequent actions. But I’m short, and the diamond is way up there.
She had a bad feeling about how this might typically go down. She had picked Magpie’s brain bare on her experiences in the chamber, to the point of severe exasperation on the irritable girl's part. But what if Magpie was an outlier?
I mean, she is, obviously. Who looks at that diamond way up there and says ‘Yeah, I could kick that free?’ But let’s posit there is a way to get any of these gems for a reasonably normal person. How do they do it? They don’t break them out, that seems obvious now. What happened to Magpie’s gems, once she touched them, held them?
Crap.
She could see it now, her hypothetical subject would go to a gem. Perhaps they would be drawn to one in particular; after all, the Trial was determining affinities, among everything else. Then they might touch it. Perhaps they would feel something, a spark of connection, and they would wrap their hand around it, trying to understand. Then… tentacles.
Would they have absorbed it in time? Would she?
Ten to one, they find themselves respawning down there, either way, she thought, looking out the window. That’s not an issue for me, though. I bet that their affinity for the element, whatever that may be, is what determines how quickly they absorb it, and thus whether they get a reward for being smooshed.
Even her lowest affinity, air, was decent, but her earth was quite strong, even before she had raised it. She didn’t give herself time to think or second-guess; with a few strides and a hop she reached the statue and grabbed the rope, hoisting herself up to place her hand flat upon the emerald.
For a long second, a veritable eternity to Lilijoy, nothing happened. Then she felt it, a spark of connection that activated her Earthen Sense. A door in her mind swung open, crashing against metaphorical hinges as a landslide of power forced its way through. For a moment she felt crushed, suffocated by unbearable weight as a mass of information pressed against the boundaries of her psyche. Only her ability to think quickly allowed her to activate Mana Manipulation and drop into a meditative state, receptacle rather than obstacle.
Though she felt as a mouse swallowing a mountain, she found she had a tiny space for observation left in her mind, as long as she was willing to temporarily abandon the Outside. The process almost reminded her of transferring Eskallia’s glyph of awakening to the Greatwood, but in reverse, and about half as large. Still, that distant sliver of thought wondered just how different her experience must be from typical. She even thought she caught the edges of the data structure, the cross-dimensional links in the avalanche that reflected and contained laws governing mass and solid structure, a great glyph of gold just beyond her comprehension.
The whole was too much to bear, but the parts she sucked down greedily, filling herself to bursting. Her soul vortex sung and spun in resonance to these laws of earth and magic, and filled her with the stubbornness of mass, the resolute contentment of structure and the saudade, the bittersweet longing, of transition, transmutation and decay. Then the link between joyful anticipation and life, creation and potential took hold and her consciousness split and folded in ways no linear narrative of thought could encompass as Earth melted into Space and the diamond whiteness of her thoughts transitioned to the vast white plane of death.
The internal silence was deafening, and her thoughts struggled to find the way back to language.
Well, she thought. Well.
Then she didn’t think, in words anyway, for some time.
Finally, the thoughts flowed again.
Guess the tentacles got me in the end after all.