Chapter 19: Technicalities [2]

The words materialized in Estelle's mind, unbidden and unwanted. She scowled, refusing to accept their implications. Currently immersed in last month's reports, she reviewed the critical metrics of the space station: status, power levels, facility conditions, hull integrity. Though she knew there was little point in checking, since her written narratives had already stated the station was well functional until its fate of dooming itself into a nearby star—there was an undeniable thrill in exploring sci-fi elements she had never encountered in her previous life.

Yet beyond sleek holographic displays and gesture controls, an unsettling familiarity crept in. The user interface, though allegedly designed for alien use, mirrored the computers and game menus from her previous world with frustrating similarity, despite its supposed intuitive design. While many features—sonar, radiation readings, probe communications—ventured into genuine unknown territory, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that even these might be imitations of the devices of her previous world. The many similarities gnawed at her, threatening to diminish the wonder and originality she desperately wanted to preserve.

As Estelle swept through the display, each line of the report deepened the furrow in her brow. Halfway through, she abandoned careful reading for rapid scanning, having gleaned the essential information. A defeated sigh escaped her lips. “Fine—I get it. I know I wanted to limit the narrative potential of the Trigon Sphere Station’s. The Ancient Architects consumed nearly all the resources in this realm, their zealots destroying facilities and purging data to keep their technology from gods and mortals—I wrote that. But to deplete the entire star system, leaving nothing but its central sun? Really?”

Her fingers found her chin, massaging it absently as frustration built. "We need materials to construct facilities, but those facilities demand power, which means generators and power banks, which need more materials..." She groaned. "How in the world? How do I break this cycle?"

She paused, frowning at the display before muttering, "We have a few... what was this called again?" With a gesture, she conjured the symbol to close the report.

Her fingers hovered over the numerous icons and settings beneath the [queue menu], skimming past dozens until her searching eyes landed on what looked like a plasma icon. A large blue sphere radiated prismatic light, its brilliance flanked by four smaller spheres. Each of these smaller spheres bounced energetically, perfectly aligned at the cardinal directions—north, south, east, and west.

“Huh?” Estelle muttered. “This must be the energy icon… Yeah, the energy report used this instead of the electricity symbol.”

A tap on the icon triggered an animation—the symbol duplicated itself, its copy rising to seamlessly integrate into the empty space above the top bar. The copy expanded into a new holographic monitor, its display crowned with tabs featuring various power indicators: atomic symbols spinning around cores, lightning bolts, leaves, and nuclear trefoil symbols. Each icon came paired with watt-per-hour measurements. The top right corner showed the vital statistics: [440 MWh total output], with [354 MWh] current consumption and [86 MWh] surplus being channeled to battery storage. Battery status: [2560/7400 MW]. While these numbers drew Estelle's attention, familiar extending lines in the central monitor quickly captured her focus.

The left panel revealed a web of images linked by gray and white lines, branching rightward through multiple nodes before rooted additional image clusters further. Groups of images nestled against different colored backgrounds, each topped with a distinct symbol and accompanying text. Her eyes caught the first label: [Thermal wing deployment [3/12].

“Make sense… now the plasma icon makes sense,” Estelle murmured as she scrolled through the display.

From her observation, the station boasted five types of energy generators: solar, thermal, biogen, fission, and fusion. Knowing the resource-intensive nature of fusion and fission generators, she focused on the thermal cluster, tapping to expand its display. The group preview expanded instantly, transforming from three images to a full spread of twelve. Each image of thermal generator resembled an elongated cylinder, its surface adorned with geometric patterns and intervally-spaced wing panels. Estelle attempted to whistle appreciatively, but only managed to suck in air, cringing at her failed attempt.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head, baffled by a sudden discovery among the expanded group.

The first three images connected to their nodes via bright white lines, converging at a central junction where the nodes linked together. Following these connections led to another image—a series of glowing green lines separated by small intervals, all encased in thick gray material. Not only that, but it appeared to be 35% full. Estelle couldn’t shake the impression of a battery, a suspicion that was confirmed when she looked up and saw its label: [Battery].

“Hmm,” Estelle hummed a loud, lost in a clear thought.

After studying these active connections, Estelle's attention shifted to the anomaly below. Starting from the fourth image onward, everything appeared grayed out and darkened—clearly non-functional to her eyes. Their connecting lines blazed red instead of white. Estelle hummed thoughtfully, tapping one of the red lines.

The line responded with a sharp glow, triggering a blinking spark on one of the top tabs. She followed this prompt, tapping the tab to reveal a new view. Though structured similarly to the report queue monitor, with its familiar array of text and tabs, this display held different information. Estelle focused on one of the report entries, all formatted in the same structure.

"Let's see... Report from External Technical Specialist... Current status... scanning down... malfunction, currently waiting for repairs..." Her words trailed off as she skimmed the text. "Then, just repair it?"

As if answering her question, another line caught her eye: "No resources available for repair. Of course," she sighed. "I'm guessing the fusion and fission reactors face the same problem?"

Her gaze drifted to the left panel, where generator logs were listed. The top entry, [Thermal Wing generator log], glowed in gold text, while [Solar generator log] sat beneath it. She tapped the solar entry, diving into its details.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

A few minutes of reading revealed the core issue: the need to manufacture solar panels from scratch and deploy them in nearby space. The resource requirements proved even more demanding than the thermal wing repairs. Estelle shook her head with a sigh, choosing not to memorize the astronomical material costs. Repairing existing facilities would be far more economical than building new ones—if she could just secure the resources.

"Ahh-mmmmm," her initial yelp dissolved into a muffled groan as she sorted through her thoughts. "Weren't there electricity-producing abnormalities in the 2000s? No... that was closer to 2200, wasn't it? Those were more efficient, per se... but abnormalities are rare in this era. Did they only appear after the Trigon Station's destruction? Or was it the awakening of the gods? Still so far in the future… No use in thinking about it—but I should at least prepare a containment to secure myself an abnormality—"

Her lips widened to smile as her eyes spark with curiosity, “I am rather curious about those as well. And I can’t wait to see them with my eyes.”

She resumed scrolling down the display with a smile, but it quickly faded as a frustrated grumble escaped her. “There’s not much to do here... Should I explore, or head to the mortal realm to gather resources? I really want to see the mortal world—the floating islands. Damn.”

The display stopped abruptly at its bottom, her gaze locking onto the final image. It stood out—dark blue with white lines sketching a structure's outline, marked by bold lines and cut-marks along its edges. The design reminded her of modern solar panels drawn in a blueprint from her previous world, a suspicion confirmed by the label below: [Solar Panel (blueprint @Adjel4yeh2t )]

"The research Terminal!" Estelle gasped, eyes widening as she snapped her fingers before reality tempered her excitement. "But resources..."

As her thoughts spiraled into increasing incoherence, she turned to the furthermost monitor of the main terminal—the research terminal. Her numbing legs protested as she shuffled over, finally stretching after too long stationary.

Just based on the first impressions she had received, both from seeing it through a monitor and in its physical form, the research terminal resembled drawing software, like AutoCAD. It had been intentionally designed that way—and Estelle couldn’t decide whether she should be angry at herself for making it what it was, or regretting what it could have been. Certainly, most of the terminals the Architects used were foreign to the natives of this world—and to her own previous world—few of whom, except those with similar academic backgrounds or hobbies, would understand just how ‘overwhelming’ these programs could be. She hoped that excuse would be the last one she had to rely on.

'It's supposed to be more like a 3D renderer though,' she mentally corrected herself. ‘The research terminal stands among the most advanced components of Architect technology, alongside the Nous Crux Pattern Sphere. But this one sees more use. After all, the research terminal is capable of… how do I explain this… It’s capable of Translatable, Demystifiable, Transcodable… or—right.’ She searched for the precise explanation.

"Elicitable," she muttered, finally finding the word. "Yes, that's it. It can elicit the [Infosphere]—one of the core foundations governing the world's laws, meaning, and everything else."

Estelle scanned the monitor methodically, absorbing the text from top to bottom until an icon caught her attention—a blueprint icon showing a sphere atop a box. Intrigued, she tapped it, summoning a display window above the centerpiece. The new window was filled with images, a gallery of varied blueprint designs, each distinct from the last.

"Blueprints? I thought they were... Oh..." Her confusion melted into recognition. "Right. I completely forgot about that."

She attempted to scroll the display but found herself locked to the current view. Her attention shifted to studying each blueprint in detail. A glass jar— no, a cup led the list, rendered in blue with crisp white outlines, followed by an array of everyday items—tables, chairs, cabinets, and flower pots. Her focus wavered as these mundane blueprints triggered a cascade of memories, faint images and past conversations flickering through her mind.

She remembered crafting these particular objects—playful experiments inspired by the research terminal’s potential outputs. More than anything, they were meant to support a narrative she had once been passionate about, a story she had started writing before ultimately abandoning it and discarding the entire idea.

"This was for that story," Estelle muttered, disbelief lacing her tone. "The one where the protagonist came to this space station, but the story went differently. Instead of the station falling into the star, she managed to repair it and was granted this technology. A stupid idea. No wonder I scrapped it… Though, to think some blueprints still exist… Did I forget to delete these?”

"Hah," she managed a dry laugh. "Not that they're much use now. We need raw materials for anything worthwhile—titanium, coal, iron, copper—" Her eyes suddenly widened as a troubling thought struck. 'Do we even have enough materials for a body?'

She lifted her gaze, her focus shifting from the holographic monitor to the backdrop beyond it. It was still the same as when she first arrived. Her thoughts crystallized. “Damn... I really wonder what it’d feel like to possess bodies. I mean, that’s fiction—that’s romance. Something we never get to experience, huh.” She clicked her tongue, her foot tapping impatiently.

Just as she was about to finalize her decision, she froze, her gaze focus snapping back to the research monitor. She stared, reconsidered, then reconsidered again before surrendering with a grumble. “Hng. Fine. It should only need electricity, and we have around 100 MW. Enough to power an entire city’s residential division... I think..." She tilted her head, fingers hovering above the display. "Though how much would it actually consume? Even if it's high, I should be able to adjust the power requirements. Right—the leftward controls."

Her gaze shifted to the nexus protocol module on the far left. "Yeah, I can modify it there—pretty sure."

Returning to the research display, Estelle pressed her fingers against the interface and wrote: [Handheld terminal device.] When she lifted her hand, instead of the usual stretching text animation, a new holographic window materialized with words positioned at the center: [Tapping into infosphere... processing...]

"Hmm, I want to be able to get a phone-like terminal so I can hopefully get access to the base while I am out and about," she hummed. "That might've been a mistake... I've thought about this before, and this wasn't it... Research terminals search all data related to the prompt within the infosphere. More vague terms mean..."

As she came to, her eyes widened as the holographic window updated: [Processing hypothetical variants found: 54,333] and then again [Processing hypothetical variants found: 97,405]

"Fuck," she cursed, jolting forward as her hands frantically drew a cancellation symbol on the display. Relief washed over her as the display shrunk and vanished. But uncertainty lingered—had the command truly terminated, or was it still processing somewhere in the system? She quickly checked the research terminal's queue panel on the left.

[Research task queue ongoing: Handheld terminal device || requested by Estelle_Nytelles... || Current status: Gathering data from Infosphere]