Chapter 9: What now?

“What now?” Estelle’s voice rippled through the stillness.

Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around the cold, empty glass—not quite a drinking glass, she observed, but rather a jar, given its bulk. Had it possessed a neck like a bottle, the shape might have made more sense. Her gaze drifted to the center of the hall, where the Nous Crux Pattern continued its eternal swirl.

Reaching up, she pinched her chin between her fingernails. The sharp ache that spread across her skin only reinforced her growing certainty about her situation. This wasn't a dream—she knew that much without doubt. Yet the phenomenon before her defied all logic, existing outside the bounds of any quantifiable reality she knew. Estelle clenched her teeth and exhaled slowly. No matter how she tried to deny it, here she sat, pressed against the walls of the Trigon Sphere hall, watching the Nous Crux Pattern as it floated.

A weary sigh escaped her lips. “What now?” her voice reached none in this desolate realm, but she repeated, trying to ground the topic she needed to resolve rather than dwelling matters that are not important.

When her mind wandered slightly off topic, she quickly shook her head. ‘Focus on survival first,’ she chided herself. ‘Food, water, basic necessities—everything else comes later.’

Planting her feet firmly on the ground, Estelle pushed against the wall and slowly rose. She shot a glance to the Nous Crux pattern, then to the filamentary just to the side. She considered, ‘Food… That is slightly worrying… I don’t recall making any environmental mapping for it, but I had mentioned they have enclosed biofarms… Or hydroponics, or sci-fi greenhouse—whatever you call it. Though, I don’t recall what type of food they are cultivating. Knowing the Architect’s body is mixed between mechanical cybernetics and biocomposites, their skin tissues were genetically made to stretch, hyper-hyper adaptability against high and low temperatures… So… Their food needs protein, vitamin C, D… and, what is it? Some kind of acid?’

She tilted her head, her fingers rubbing her chin while her feet carried her forward. ‘If only I had the internet… Or access to my World for confirmation…’ Her eyes caught the thin green filament several feet off the platform. ‘Maybe I can search there? Hm, don’t you get protein from meat, fish, or chickens? Wait… Now that I think about it, don’t some nuts give you protein? Then again, do they eat nuts? Wait, no… That’s just silly. Imagine steel teeth grinding on nuts…’ She almost laughed at the mental image. ‘If we think about it logically, they would have fabricators that turn nutrients into paste, or some kind of nutrient fluid battery to plug into their generator, or stomach… or something like that… I’m not so sure…’

Before she realized it, Estelle’s hands crossed her clothes, searching within her pockets for something—then immediately froze when she felt nothing. Frantically. She patted over her clothes before coming to an abrupt realization. “Oh—my phone. Right. Certainly. Indeed. I see. I don’t have it”

“—I don’t have it…” her voice faded into a grumbling whisper.

She shook her head, much softer this time. Estelle turned her attention ahead of her path, eyeing on the nearest filament still some distance away. ‘I—I don’t want to accidentally fall… It might be better to go to the ground floor, huh,’ she remarked.

Estelle pivoted slightly on her heel, allowing her to strafe around the rounding platform. As she continued observing, slightly grinding her teeth, something began to swell inside her. The longer she looked, the more she took in the designs of her creation, the harder it became to think clearly. She tried to hold back—but something inside her mind was bawling, screaming at her body to move and hug those pillars, perhaps roll across the floor, or trace those etchings with her fingers.

Especially those etchings—the ones she recalled spending hundreds of hours on before giving up and discovering auto-generated textures. Yet, despite it all, she held herself back. Grinding her teeth, she steeled herself—clenching her fist. 'Don't think... too much about it, Estelle,' she reminded herself, 'There is always time... I can always make up time.'

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Several steps onward, Estelle's body was cast in shadows by the massive pillar—occasionally bathed by streaming waves of green light descending along its surface. At that sight, her lips pursed. 'How did I not find this cool until now? Damning hell. Holy gods... my minds, and my minds, and my minds... is this really real?'

Estelle pinched her wrist again, the sharp ache once more confirming her doubts. There was something crawling inside her mind, the familiar sensation of ideas rising from a thousand graves in her consciousness, surging forward. She abruptly stopped on her heel—watching as another wave of green light, liquid-like, snaked through the sleek pillar's engravings. These appeared different from the ones in the hall before—the reason slightly eluded her, but she knew there were distinct features.

She wanted to take a moment and recall. However, knowing her current issue was far more urgent, she decided against it. Estelle urged herself forward, her eyes pinned on the last green wave falling from the pillar, descending until it vanished beneath the floor, then shifted her gaze ahead.

Immediately, a wall of pale blue light entered her view—her eyes widened in surprise as a series of memories flashed through her mind. Her legs slowed unconsciously while her eyes darted from one detail to another—her mind following and registering what she was seeing. The pale blue wasn't strong in color; if anything, it was profoundly translucent, almost blending with the muted tones of the environment. The light formed a perfect circle, creating a wall as it beamed from floor to ceiling.

'The Architect's Amazing 1.0 Floor Transitioning Device'—its name abruptly materialized in Estelle's mind, prompting her to stop dead in her tracks. 'Oh... Fuck...' She slowly restarted. 'Oh, no. Don't tell me the architects actually made their elevators that—really that of my placeholder. Oh no—... Oh no. What about the others? Haven't we officialized many details in the past, but I couldn't figure out names and did placeholders instead... Oh no.’

The slit of her mouth pursed thinly, turning to a somewhat wry grin. 'That would be funny to imagine though—Architects having troubles with their naming sense—well, they do have a more logistic approach if anything...'

Her thoughts trailed off, and her eyes widened when a sudden revelation dawned. 'Fuck—now that I think about it, it does seem they would name their elevators like that. Of course, minus all the adjectives and verbs.'

Estelle continued forward, the naming theme still occupying her mind. With every mindless step, her legs brought her closer to the Transition Device, while her thoughts drifted again. She was certain she had been leaning toward developing the Architect's race further—what lay unknown beyond the Gates of Another World left by the Architects in this realm. However, she couldn't seem to recall the details she had changed—aside from the Transition Device.

More apparent to her mind, however, was the reasoning that led her to stop progressing—taking a break for many weeks before bringing herself back to that desk. To that World inside a digital realm, one that grew alongside her, the World that she had poured effort, energy, money, and time into. Estelle couldn't figure out why her thoughts led to this very moment, yet she didn't deny them.

She pivoted on her legs and eyed the massive spherical shape of the Nous Crux Sphere. Though part of her mind questioned if this impossible scene would have happened had she deleted the world instead of starting a campaign—somehow, Estelle didn't want to answer that. She tried to keep herself busy by taking in her surroundings.

Above, where the filamentary screens met the ceiling, she noticed a piece protruding downward like a ring. At that sight, Estelle commented, "Right... that one too," and immediately smiled.

‘Right, that one too,' she repeated inside her mind, still eyeing the ring. She felt her fingers itching as something surfaced in her mind. 'Right, that one, that one. Right,' she repeated, nodding her head. 'I was making a concept before stopping. I wanted to know—I wanted to see how a populated base of Architects filled with mechanoids, or androids, auxiliary drones, and their overlord Architects would look like. But I never finished it—'

Her thoughts went silent—a moment of pure clarity. She stood motionless, her lips parted slightly. Her gaze flowed, taking in the scene once again—it was majestic, it was beautiful, and more importantly, inspiring. Something sparked behind her eyes, while her fingers began itching. 'I want to draw—I want to draw again. Fuck. I want to make more of this scene—perhaps humans, or Tyrs. Or perhaps champions, or the Cultists of the Sea—someone, anything. Perhaps they can discover this place—not this place actually. More like the ancient Architects' base in the mortal realm, yes. That....'

Then she snapped back with a loud inhale. She was certain—this feeling, the hunger; the urge, the desire—the inspiration and motivation. She knew this so well. The longer she stared, the more intricate details she discovered she had made in the past—the urge to write concepts, draw art only grew.

Estelle clenched her teeth, shaping her hands into fists. 'This is so wild. So fucking wild.' She rapidly shook her head, hands moving with the motion, her energy levels maxing out as it released through her movements. 'I want to see how this looks from the ground.'