The prick of the needle into Ark’s skin was as abrupt and painful as it was quick. A precise sting, piercing the veins in his arm, and the instrument was in position.

“Steady now,” Mallis said, carefully focused on his work, “This will only take a moment.”

Instantly, blood began to flow through the catheter, through a tube into a plastic bag. Within moments, the bag had filled, and Mallis swiftly removed the tourniquet around his arm before he pulled the needle out with practiced ease.

Pressing down on Arks arm with a small piece of gauze, Mallis eyed Ark. “You’ve been very patient over the past couple of days,” he remarked.

“That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Quite,” he said, then nodded at the gauze, “Hold this down.”

Ark did as he was told, and Mallis picked up the bag of blood, studying it for a moment before labeling it with a few letters and a date. Then he placed it in a canister where it would be kept cool for the time being.

“I’ve worked with a lot of young people over the decades,” Mallis said, as he lifted the canister onto a nearby table and turned back to Ark. “Few have shown the patience that the two of you have.”

“I guess we were raised well,” Ark said, unable to keep a bitter tone out of his voice.

“Yes… I expect you were raised quite extraordinarily.” Mallis said, his voice even. “But I digress. You have been patient, and done as I’ve asked. The archive has not looked this good in years, I’d say.” He waved around at where there had once been towers and piles of cardboard boxes and papers, now neatly arranged upon the many shelves in the vast room.

“If you don’t mind,” Ark said, hesitantly, “How did it get so bad? I don’t believe you would just move boxes around for fun.”

Mallis sighed, looked around at his life’s work with a mixture of content and dissatisfaction. “It is because the other branches are phasing out their archive. With nowhere else but the incinerators to take their documents, they end up here.”

“I get that,” Ark said, staring at the massive amounts of information, “All of that is surely digitized and stored somewhere. You could just pull it up on your netlink, if you wanted.”

“Ah yes… The short-sighted conceit of youth,” Mallis said with a chuckle.

“Then enlighten me,” Ark said, waving out at the archive, “Why maintain all of this? What’s the point?”

For a time, Mallis said nothing. He merely stared at rows of shelves and cardboard boxes with unmistakable pride. “Do you know what the worst fate that can befall a hero is?” He finally said, turning his old eyes on Ark.

“Dying?” Ark said, shrugging, “I mean, I know there are worse things to experience than dying, but if a hero dies, their story ends.”

“Do you not know many stories of heroes?” Mallis said, voice quiet.

“A few. Why?”

“If you know their stories, still, then these stories are not at their end. They grow with each telling, from small tales around the fire to epics on the holoscreen. No, young Ark, the worst fate for a hero is not to die; for many that is merely the beginning of their tale.”

“Then I suppose you’ve got a better answer?” Ark said, testily. He’d had enough of mind games for the day.

“I think I do, yes,” Mallis said, ever so calmly, “I believe the worst fate of a hero is to be forgotten. For their trials to fade from memory. For their triumphs to no longer matter.”

Ark still did not get where the old man was going with this, so he just shrugged and said, “Sure, I can see that might be worse. What about it?”

“If that is the worst fate for a hero?” Mallis said, scratching his chin, “What is the worst fate for a common man?

“To also be forgotten by those around him?” Ark tried to follow the logic of the conversation.

“Perhaps… Perhaps,” Mallis nodded, “I say it is for that man to forget who he is. Others may remember him, or not, but he at least should remember who he is and what he believes in.”

Picking up the clues Mallis was laying down, Ark looked around the archive. This time, he recognized it as more as simply an outdated medium of coding information. This was memory, in the oldest form that human civilization had achieved.

“So, all of this,” Ark said, waving at the archive, “Is that the memory of the Explorer’s Guild? So that it can remember what it is?”

“Our oldest texts are in here. Texts from before the World Break, from before the Red Moon appeared in the skies above Terra. Serah Milldew’s journal is here somewhere, along with our founding document.” Mallis smiled, a sad expression growing across his face like a shadow. “All of it is digitized, as you say, but those records can be altered or deleted. These cannot, at least not without my permission.”

“You think that is a possibility?” Ark said, surprised, “That records are manipulated? By whom?”

Mallis just pursed his lips and shrugged. “It never hurts to be careful. You learn that with age. Regardless, I believe it is time I made good on my end of our bargain. Bring your friend to my study, and we’ll talk.”

Excitement rose in Ark’s chest, he got up and immediately felt a little woozy from the blood draw. Ignoring it with the shake of his head, Ark headed down one of the rows of shelves to bring back Mino from where he was sorting one of the final stacks of boxes. Quickly dragging him back, the two sat down in front of Mallis’ desk, exactly like when they had first come here.

“I see you’re eager,” Mallis said with a chuckle, “Then let’s not beat around the bush. You want to know how to catch up with those who can use psionics, correct?”

“Yes,” Ark said, at the edge of his seat with eyes wide.

“And you say you are a mindweaver, Ark?”

“Yes.” This time Ark dragged out the answer a little, eyes furrowing.

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“Then I’m questioning who trained you, if they did not give you this information already,” Mallis said, mouth edged in a frown, “Who did train you?”

“Is that really relevant?” Ark said, dodging the question.

“No, I suppose not. Facts are as they are. Very well, what I am about to tell you was common knowledge back in my day. You know our kind struggled immensely when the World Break occurred?”

“It’s pretty well documented,” Ark said, nodding, “Entire cities were laid to waste.”

Mallis nodded. “Yes, just think about it. There you are, having a nice walk in a park, and suddenly a rift appears in front of you. One moment you are on Terra, the next you are whisked into the Inverse and horrible monsters are attacking you. That would be a pretty bad time.”

“It would,” Mino agreed.

“And then it turns out that guns and rockets can’t always pierce the hide of monsters who have strange powers. What’s a technologically advanced human race supposed to do?”

“Learn psionic?” Ark said, shrugging. That seemed the obvious answer.

“Ah,” Mallis put up a finger, “But you don’t know about that power. No one has developed the ability to work with this new and strange power that pours out of the rifts.”

“You build a bigger gun?” Mino said, face as straight as an arrow.

“Like I said, limited use.” Mallis finally tapped his head, “No, my young fellows, we expand the one thing that made us the masters of our old realm. We create a way for us to network with advanced artificial intelligence. We create the Neural Network.”

Ark touched the base of his neck, where he knew his netlink access point was placed. “The netlink?” He said, confused. It was a really useful tool in everyday life, and he could understand its uses as a mindweaver, but how did it help fight off monsters?

“Exactly. You’ve probably grown up with it all your life, but I—“ Mallis pointed at his own chest. “—had it installed when I was ten years old. And I remember the transition.”

“Transition?” Ark furrowed his brow, “You mean, you changed?”

“Oh yes. It’s subtle—at first you notice small things, like how much more quickly you learn new information, or languages. Then it grows on you and adapts to you; you and it becomes one, and you are now something else. Something more.”

Chills ran down Ark’s spine the way Mallis was describing it. He had never thought about it that way. There was never a time he could look back on where the netlink had not been a part of his life, after all.

“Being smart doesn’t make you strong, though,” Mino said, then looked at Ark, “No offense.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Ark said, still absorbed in the chilling thoughts.

“It does, and it doesn’t,” Mallis said, waving a hand in front of him, “On it’s own it’s not that great. However, if you combine it with one other factor, it suddenly becomes very powerful.”

“And that is what we are going to use,” Ark said, summarizing the explanation.

“Exactly so. The way the Neural Network operates on the surface is that it collects information on every lived experience through the way it affects the neurons in your brain.” Seeing their expressions, Mallis hurried to add, “It’s not reading your minds, it is simply registering how your neuron pattern changes over time.”

“Why?” Ark could not see what Vanguard could use all of that information for.

“Training data,” Mallis said, shrugging, “The brain is an incredibly complex, biological machine that we still do not fully understand. The Neural Network adapts to how you fire off your neurons and enhances the patterns. It learns and grows, and with it, Vanguard grows.”

“That… I’m not sure how I feel about that,” Ark said, rubbing his forehead. It was beginning to hurt.

“Well, perhaps this will make up your mind,” Mallis said, smiling crookedly, “What I just described was the surface. If you’re willing to go down this route, there’s a lot more underneath. Our most brilliant minds came up with a way of using this vast collection of neural information to enhance a few individuals alongside the AI. That was always the true purpose behind the Neural Network. It was what saved us when all hope seemed lost.”

“How?” Ark said, once again consumed by his excitement. He was so close he could feel it.

“How it works, I don’t know,” Mallis said, shaking his hand, “But it gives users with the right credentials the right to access the deeper system—for a price. It is known as he Job system, and it will give you what you desire, or it will take everything away from you.”

“What is the price,” Ark said, voice no more than a breath.

“It’s two-fold,” Mallis said, holding up two fingers, “One is that you need a mindweaver to maintain it. It’s more of a downside, I suppose, but having to rely on someone else to keep yourself in stable condition is not something most riftwalkers prefer. You may be more so inclined.”

He put down one finger and continued. “The actual price varies from person to person. It may be that you need to perform a certain action whenever you wish to use the abilities from the system, or recall a painful memory, or go through a torturous process. You pay the price in extreme experiences that the system can gather data from.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad…” Mino said, quietly.

“No?” Mallis looked at Mino with his face turned into a grim visage. “What is your worst nightmare, Young Mino? Your greatest fear? Imagine reliving that every time you had to recharge your ability. I’ve seen men who had to cut off their own flesh to earn the right to use their powers. Others turned to powerful drugs that led to addictions, or simply became crippled with anxieties or phobias that were enhanced by the system, just so it could learn more.”

Ark’s back was now awash in cold sweat. This had been humanity’s salvation in those days? It sounded gruesome.

“There’s a reason no one uses it anymore, beyond the rarity of mindweavers,” Mallis said, turning from the contemplative Mino to Ark, “But it is the one path forward for the two of you. So, the question is… will you take it?”

Clenching his fists, Ark felt the fire in his chest burn hotter than ever. This was what he wanted. No matter the cost. “Yes. How do we gain access?” He noted Mino’s eyes on him, but ignored it.

“When you get your break, go out of the guild and head to the central pillar of Vanguard. Before the checkpoint, there will be an old building with the letters NNS. You will need your guild credentials to enter, after which you will be guided through what you have to do.” Mallis said, keeping the explanation strangely vague before waving them off. “Now begone with you. Go do all the stupid things that young people do.”

They both rose and was about to walk off when Mallis said one final thing that made Ark’s spine tingle. “Oh, and you, Ark, should question why no one ever told you this. It was a system built for mindweavers, after all.”

Ark looked the old man in the eye, before nodding and turning away. Walking down the many rows of shelves, Ark could not help but think back on his previous conversation with Mallis and wonder. What else was he unaware; what else had others ‘forgotten’ to tell him. How many of the records he had learned about the past and his profession from had been altered?

----------------------------------------

Seeing the backs of the two young men fade into the darkness, Mallis did not immediately move. He waited until he heard the click of the door. Only then did he open a drawer in his desk and withdraw a preliminary result from a previous blood test.

Eying it, he sighed and opened another drawer, where a small safe box was secured with both a digital and analogue lock. Using his fingerprint, he opened the digital lock, and then withdrew the key from a chain around his neck. Opening the small box, another document, alongside an old tarnished journal lay inside. Withdrawing the document, Mallis held it up and compared it with the new on.

It was the result of a blood test, run decades ago. The two tests were a perfect match for one another, which Mallis knew should be impossible. He had compared the two documents for days now, and he always landed on the same conclusion.

“It seems,” he said, voice croaking from overuse, “History repeats itself. Or reuses its tropes.”

Picking up the journal, he weighed it in his hands, considering whether he should open it. He had done so, long ago, and regretted it to this day. Still, it was tempting. Licking his lips, he read the initials that had been edged into the fine leather binding.

E.N.D.

Shaking his head, Mallis put the journal back, whispering to himself. “Better you stay forgotten, old friend.” He put both documents into the safe box and locked it securely, keeping the key around his chest. Then he closed the drawer, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

“I’m getting old.”