Chapter 14: Revalidation Process

“Huh…” A bewildered mutter escaped Estelle’s lips before she unconsciously added, “Where have I seen this before?”

Her words—yet another phrase repeated countless times, reiterated with slight variations, showing no signs of stopping. Despite holding the confidence that her instincts were leading her towards something significant, her thoughts were clouded in useless musings and clarity eluded every reaching idea. She longed to pause, to take a moment to untangle the threads of her thoughts, but with how precarious her position was, it made reflection almost impossible.

Her arms bore the entirety of her weight as she clung tightly to the wall, her fingers pressing into its smooth surface. Her feet scrambled for purchase against the slick material below, slipping with each desperate attempt to anchor herself. Shaking off her fixations on the translucent monitor , she shifted her focus to the station’s layout.

Though she prided herself on her artistry—on shaping the world with her own hands—this place carried an eerie familiarity. Its functional design lacked the depth and soul of her grander creations. The elements seemed like afterthoughts, the kind of forgettable building blocks she might copy and paste to fill space.

She studied the structure intently, her eyes tracing its protruding form, which seemed to function as the counter or workstation of the Integrated Station. Its surface was flatter than she expected, sloping upward only where it merged seamlessly with the back wall. Black panels of varying shapes dotted the surrounding white surface, their dark screens alive with geometric patterns and shifting lines of color.

Light fractured and spilled outward from these shapes, coalescing into holographic monitors suspended in midair. Blue, green, and white hues outlined the edges where black met white, their glow hinting at distinct categories or purposes. The fragmented luminescence cast an otherworldly aura over the space, the interplay of light and color stirring a quiet unease in her chest.

The design felt strange—familiar yet distinctly different from the fragmented impressions she had gathered while interacting with the security gate terminal in the Hall of Sarcophagi. Had her memory betrayed her, twisting the details over time? Or had she been unconsciously comparing it with the memory of past integrated devices? Or was it simply that her mind had always been unreliable when it came to such things?

Her gaze lingered on the integrated station, and a wry grin tugged at her lips. “Damn, these aliens have RGBs? What in the world—” she muttered, letting out a dry chuckle. The humor felt hollow, and an internal jab followed: ‘Creativity is so dead.’

Deja vu prickled at the back of her mind. The words felt oddly familiar, as if she had spoken that exact phrase before. She couldn’t shake the certainty, though she dismissed it as her thoughts began to wander.

Her gaze roamed the station unhurriedly, taking in its details. There wasn’t much to see—it resembled any desk or device station, apart from the black greebling patterns etched into its surface, giving it a distinctly sci-fi vibe.

Her sights drifted downward to the hollow space beneath the workstation, its open space design seemingly tailored to accommodate whatever forms of the Architect’s might take. There were no chairs, no pedestal—no semblance of rest for whoever operated the device. It was just as she had expected from an environment like these.

Then, something caught her wandering eye. Strange, familiar markings were embedded in black across the white floor.

Squinting for a closer look, Estelle frowned as the markings stirred a flicker of recognition. A memory surfaced, answering the nagging question in the back of her mind. ‘The Transition Device,’ she realized, a wry smile curling her lips.

“Right—” she began aloud, her voice tinged with resignation, as though finally coming to terms with a long-overlooked mistake. “Right… Shoot. I did that, didn’t I? I forgot—I copied and pasted the transition device here too, to suggest they could teleport in.’ she let out a dry laugh, the memory growing clearer with each word. “I know they have the ability to teleport, but those jumps aren’t meant for long distances. So, they need a mix: using their in-built teleportation ability in conjunction with the device lets them bridge the gap, no matter the distance. And yeah, even if someone is already occupying the station, the device should—I think—just rejects the other transition. That’s right. Yeah, I remember now.”

Her muttering faded as the memory settled into place, and she thought dryly, ‘How convenient.’

With a muffled grunt, Estelle hauled herself upward, hanging her leg firmly on the high divider. The solid thud of her boots echoed faintly as she paused, hovering almost horizontally. Her eyes darted across the workstation, calculating her next move.

Deliberately, she extended her legs toward the desk’s flat surface, tilting her weight inward. Her body rolled slightly as she maneuvered over the edge, her grip on the divider steadying her awkward transition.

Awkwardly kneeling on the surface, she began her descent. Inch by inch, she slid down, her movements slow and deliberate. Her legs swayed, feet stretching instinctively as though seeking the reassurance of solid ground.

Then, far sooner than she had anticipated, her feet touched down.

“Huh?” Estelle muttered, her brow furrowing as she glanced over her shoulder. The ground pressed against her legs—solid, yet closer than she remembered. Something had shifted. The station’s interior had changed; the floor was raised, subtly yet unmistakably different from her prior memory.

Releasing her grip on the divider, she felt her heels roll flat against the surface. The motion sent her slightly off balance, her body propelling backward. Her arms flailed instinctively, catching the edge of the flat desk behind her. Her legs scrambled, stabilizing her stance just as she regained her footing.

“Woah—what’s happening…?” she breathed, her voice trembling as her gaze darted down over her body. A strange lightness enveloped her. It was nothing like her past experiences with the transition device. Her limbs moved effortlessly, as though gravity’s oppressive pull had loosened its grip.

Strands of her hair floated into view, weaving and swelling around her face as if caught in an invisible current. The weightlessness was surreal, yet she could still feel a faint, grounding pressure tugging at her feet—a subtle reassurance that she remained tethered to the ground.

Her mouth widened in awe, a grin spreading across her face. “So weird... What is happening? That’s so weirdly cool. Wha—t,” she stammered, her tone teetering between confusion and childlike wonder.

Her hands reached out, testing the newfound freedom of motion. Shaking her head caused her hair to drift and twist in front of her eyes, obscuring her view. She laughed softly, marveling at the peculiar sensation. ‘What’s this? Why is this so fun?’

She spun on one foot, shifting her focus to the long white gown trailing behind her. It moved freely, unburdened by gravity’s usual weight, twirling with effortless grace. Estelle’s grin widened, watching as the fabric spiraled like a dancer’s costume on stage, fluid and flawless. Another spin—then again—before a sudden chill raced down her spine, cutting through her exhilaration. She shuddered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “So cold…” she muttered, her breath escaping in visible white puffs, curling faintly in the air before her lips.

Instinctively, she tugged her gown closer, seeking a fleeting sense of warmth against the encroaching cold. Her long black hair, still floating weightlessly, drifted into her view, slapping against her facial skin. Annoyed, she reached up to gather the strands, her fingers fumbling slightly. As she worked, her gaze fell on her gloved hands.

Her brow furrowed as a fleeting thought took hold. ‘Does gravity affect objects here too? It should, right? Change of gravity should… what was it again?’ She paused, grasping for the term. ‘Area-based? And everything within the area gets affected regardless? Like instancing… Floating island, for instance… Yeah, per se, per se.’

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The scrambled thought dissipated as quickly as it had come, her attention flitting elsewhere. Tucking her hair beneath her gown with a quick motion, she muttered to herself, “Anyway, back to what I need to do.”

Her focus shifted to the holographic monitors hovering above the desk. As she studied them, she couldn’t help but notice the peculiar variations in their displays. Most of it dominated in shades of blue, green, or gray, while others snapped nearly the entire color wheel. The arrangement seemed random, scattered around the circular desk of the station.

Yet something about the panels struck her as strange. They were pale—so pale that without a steady gaze, they nearly disappeared into the subdued backdrop. The faint colors blurred against the station’s minimalistic design, their subtlety making them easy to miss.

She was certain these elements held meaning—why else would she have specifically designed these panels in the first place? Her past self must have deliberately created and placed them here; she was sure of it. After all, these were relics from an age when gods and Architects worked hand in hand, the very essence that the characters within the world of today—and the future—to touch the past, a past long forgotten by most.

It held importance, Estelle knew and remembered the many stories; the many characters that will come across these integrated devices. Yet, as much as she yearned to unravel the intentions behind her past actions, a red, blinking pulse drew her attention. Her eyes shifted to the panel.

[Primary power bank maintenance duration: 3 hours and 27 minutes.]

“Oh—” Estelle gasped. The words slowly seeped into her mind, a flicker of recognition clawing its way out from the depths of her memory. “This—wait, isn’t this the same thing I heard when I woke up? Yeah—definitely it is. I see.”

She nodded, the pieces falling into place as she stepped closer to the display. “So… Is it just regular maintenance, or did something happen to trigger it?” she murmured, her eyes scanning the screen for answers.

Most of the monitors were static; displaying only information they were supposed to display—data streams without any clear inputs or outputs for interaction. Frowning, Estelle let instinct guide her. She reached out tentatively, her fingers hovering just below the blinking dot, below where the timer was found counting down. The motion felt familiar, like muscle memory resurfacing.

‘It should work the same way, right? Not just the terminal, but these… uh, what are they called again? Display monitors?’ she mused silently, her thoughts tried to chase the perfect term before giving up.

Sinking her fingers into the holographic monitor, Estelle’s eyes caught a sudden, dramatic shift in the display. From the point of contact, the monitor’s backdrop flared into a brilliant, pulsating red, as though the color was bleeding directly from her hand. Startled, she yanked her fingers away, her other hand colliding with a sharp slap that left a dull, throbbing ache.

But despite her retreat, the monitor responded further. A golden-yellow mark materialized where her fingers had been—a near-perfect circle, as if the device were tracing their outline.

The animation unfurled with an almost organic fluidity. Luminous waves radiated outward from the golden mark, their ripples cascading toward the edges of the hologram. Upon reaching the borders, the frame ignited with the same radiant golden hue. Each successive wave intensified the glow, drawing her focus deeper into the display.

Estelle’s gaze felt locked, almost hypnotized, as though the very space between her and the monitor had ruptured, making it impossible to look away. ‘What is happening?’ she wondered, snapping her head sharply in a frantic motion. Her eyes darted across the desk, noticing the absence of other holographic monitors. They had vanished, their presence subsumed into the growing brilliance of the central display. Even the maintenance countdown had disappeared, seemingly assimilated into the pulsating glow.

Her attention snapped back as movement caught her eye in the top-right corner of the monitor. A line of text emerged against the red canvas, its characters glowing with the same golden motif that now framed the display.

The style was unmistakably that of the Architect’s language. Yet, this version seemed more robust, more rigid—like a default template compared to the intricate designs she had encountered before.

The text didn’t stop with a single line. It continued to flow, extending downward, each segment materiazining in sync with a faint pulse of light. With growing curiosity, Estelle leaned closer and began to read.

[---]

PRP: C/UserAccount/AICP/Ent.to Revalidation in progress.

INITIATING REVALIDATION PROCESS

> User_Account/Estelle_Nytelles/?/

The Architect Authority System has detected a discontinuity in your operational state. As the Original Pattern, your presence is critical for the restoration of balance across all dimensions and matrices.

Identity verification confirms Administrator-class neural complexity and consciousness alignment. However, flagged misalignment and dormant systems require immediate action to re-establish full functionality.

[---]

A sharp breath slipped through Estelle’s nose, the air cold yet grounding. The sensation traveled down her neck, coiling tightly in her chest before she exhaled, warmth unfurling across her lips. For a brief moment, the world narrowed to the subtle rhythms of her body—a stark contrast to the intense focus she maintained on the words before her. The juxtaposition was almost jarring, as though her body resisted the stillness her concentration demanded.

Before she realized it, her fingers had drifted to her chin, tracing idle patterns along its curves, her thumb moving aimlessly beneath. One, two more strokes, and a low hum escaped her as her thoughts began to solidify. ‘As much as the implication aligns with the original lore… and stuff… I don’t think I made this one. Certainly, it doesn’t feel out of place—does the world just correct its mistakes? Patch its holes? Or something?’

Her musings were abruptly interrupted by the continuing movement of the text. This time, the lines stretched further and scrolled faster. She frowned, doubting she could keep pace with its speed.

[---]

Initiating… Initiation halted. Nous Crux Pattern report received.

> Nous_Crux/Report/1c12m323409sdf4.log

[18:04_221231.211] Admin Sarcophagus hall has detected awakening: Account_Estelle_Nystelles consciousness activity detected.

[18:17_221231.211] Admin Sarcophagus hall initiated an awakening protocol. Furthermore, requesting power and processing cores for the awakening procedure

[---]

“Oh… this—” Estelle’s budding thoughts were the first to break her concentration this time. Unlike before, she was now certain her past self wouldn’t have designed such intricate details. Her mind latched onto the mechanical underpinnings—specifically whatever device or module had been tracking her movements since she awoke. Perhaps every motion within the structure was being recorded, though only snippets made it into the device’s reports for the sake of brevity.

The purpose of this particular feature, however, remained a mystery. Even so, a vague sense of understanding emerged, a glimmer of logic in the design. Estelle nodded to herself. ‘I see. Then, I wonder how long it’s been recording. Oh, wait—recording? How is it recording? Just signals? Does it have a camera? Can those signals be reconstructed into a 3D render in hologram? I really need to check that out later. If that’s possible, imagine getting one that can record kilometers of distance—every person, every action, everything. But the storage…’

Her thoughts spiraled, calculating. ‘A five-minute video at 2K and 60fps could take gigabytes of storage. And then there’s the power to maintain it…’ She couldn’t help but start a mental checklist of possibilities and challenges, knowing full well she’d forget most of it within moments.

As her musings continued, she finally noticed the line of text had come to an abrupt halt at the very bottom of the display. It must have ended while she was lost in her thoughts. She leaned forward, preparing to pick up where she left off, when a flicker of light at the edge of her vision caught her attention.

A pulsating circular shape blinked in the same golden palette, standing out against the multitude of geometric shapes occupying the black screens on the desk. It pulsed once more before releasing a beam of light along its line, transforming into a dazzling circular pyramid—or perhaps an hourglass. The light sprawled outward from its focal point, creating a new holographic object just beneath the red screen.

The new projection was a half-oblate shape, rendered with the same golden color. Its surface was simple and unadorned, lacking the intricate designs or engravings Estelle had come to expect from Architect creations.

Intrigued, Estelle hummed softly, her curiosity piqued. Her gaze shifted back to the red text, her thoughts steadying. It was clear to her now—her answers to what had appeared, lay within the words displayed before her.

[---]

[19:10_221231.211] Security gate of Admin-Sarcophagus hall reported consciousness signature identification of Account_Estelle_Nytelles. Log report: Account_Estelle_Nytelles access matrix dormant, requesting autonomous protocol revalidation of administrator class.

[19:10_221231.211] Account_Estelle_Nytelles has manually override access authority of Security gate of Admin-Sarcophagus hall-A001

[19:10_221231.211] Nous Crux Pattern has detected movement in Hallway-H001. Estelle_Nytelles original body detected. Initiating adjustments for biological utilization.

Log file ended.

Proceeding preferred biological adjustment for Account_Estelle Nytelles.

Initiating Revalidation process.

To proceed:

Estelle Nytelles must maintain connection with the Nous Crux Pattern peering system.

—