Chapter 54 - Thought Synergy

"Miss Lightvein. I've grasped your intent. If we cooperate, I am sure we can execute the process flawlessly."

He made sure not to put it too bluntly. It would backfire if he clearly expressed in words what she was doing. It would be leaking information she didn’t want leaked, and piss her off.

After pondering it for quite a while outside, he had concluded that she was trying to send a message, maybe even a distress call.

His theory was simple. She was controlling the whole station as some kind of sentient entity and was ordering it to send messages. He remembered the sound of beating heart in the sorting room upstairs, and other similar occasions only bolstered the likelihood of his guess.

But this meant that she wasn't using the standard mechanical method to get the station up and running, which could conversely mean that he might be of no help at all.

Still, he wasn't going to inspire any confidence in a depressed person by telling her the complete truth. He had to at least flail before his death.

He could feel it. There was no time to slowly coax her into giving his idea a shot. Even Ambrose was babbling about the rhythm being off-tune and whatnot. They had to do something. Now.

But then she replied, a little bit of snark bleeding into her words, "No, you don't understand. Even if you do, what can an Observer without a single shade do to help me?"

He was ready for this one. He shook his head, "An Observer can't.” Then he hung the hourglass badge of Coven of Truth from his fingers for all to see and continued, “But how about a Fundamentalist? A Savant? This station even uses technology that I published in my own research. I know exactly how it works." He emphasized the last part.

She seemed confused for a second, but then she suddenly stood up and turned towards Cera.

"Is that true?" She asked, squinting.

Cera looked flabbergasted, but still nodded rapidly.

The woman rested one hand on her forehead—swiping away the bangs and bit on the nails of the other one as she stared into the void.

Vern wanted to hurry her up, but she was clearly debating something important.

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THUMP

When his patience was finally about to run out, she shook her head and slammed her palms on the table as she shouted, "Grab a chair and sit next to me! Right now!"

"What, what are you guys doing? This is no time to play house."

Both of them ignored Ambrose's pointless question as Vern pulled a chair next to her. She settled down, and Vern made to sit himself.

RUMBLE

That's when loud noises resounded from upstairs. If he had to guess from the intensity of the sound, it was akin to breaking through walls.

But there was more. He felt as if some kind of weight was lifted off his chest before another, even heavier one was dropped right back. One eyebrow raised, he watched the redhead in front of him closely, and his heart dropped when her expression turned fearful.

"They're here."

FUCK!

Why did it have to happen when he finally managed to convince her!? He didn't know how long it would take them to do whatever she was going for.

But he couldn't give up.

Not when his only options were to either get this working or embrace death. The fact that she quickly turned so energetic at his words meant there was a chance. A possibility that her communication would give them some kind of opportunity to get out of this mess.

He was willing to put his faith in his deductions.

He wasn't naive enough to believe that his luck would let him escape murderous psychos twice a month. He had only managed to persuade Hensen back in the library due to some very unlikely circumstances. This time, he had nothing to bargain for his life against these apostles. It was a death sentence if he couldn't make this plan work.

The panicking part of his brain was internally screaming at Cera and blaming her for this whole debacle. He would never be in this situation if she hadn't picked such a powder keg of a place to seek enlightenment. But he knew she couldn't have known, and he was responsible for his choices.

Yet, it still made him have second thoughts about everything. Things he could have done differently to not get ensnared in this trap, which was only entangling him further, promising a pitiful death.

Not right now. Not now. This wasn't the time. Reflection would have to come later.

So he took a deep breath and bellowed, "We might still have time. What do you want me to do? We can make it work!"

The red-haired woman bit the corner of her lips and, just a second later, leaned to one side of her chair, briefly touching the ground.

Then, with a fierce look, she turned to Ambrose, who had stopped manically digging himself out of the ground.

"Protect us if you want to live. Whatever comes, don't let it interrupt us. If you can't do that, then get out of my sight and fuck off."

Ambrose seemed like he wanted to say something, but his face suddenly turned fearful, and he hastily freed his legs from the holes that didn't have any more marble hands constricting him. With a serious nod, he turned around and flicked his cane, taking a proper stance.

It must be because he sensed danger in his rhythm, right?

Then she looked at Cera and asked, her words coming out in rapid succession, "Do you have a solid viewpoint? Would you be able to assist us right away if I helped you with your enlightenment?"

Cera was taken aback for a full three seconds before an excited yet solemn look spread over her face, and she replied stoically, "Yes. I have been studying an Observation Record of Ephram—"

"Good enough. Take this." She clicked something on her neck and pulled out her headpiece–the red locks falling all over her face. She threw the headpiece towards Cera, who caught it promptly and wore it on her head after a nod from the woman.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Once Cera had it settled on her head, the beauty in front of him yelled, "Fen, activate the second sequence."

After having done all this, she ignored Cera’s further questions and focused back on Vern. She extended her hand towards him, palm up, and asked, "What is your name?"

He was confused by the question. Why did his name matter in such a situation? But the urgency of the circumstances made him overrule any and all hesitation as he put his palm on top of hers, replying, "Vern. Vern Lockwood."

"I am Esther Lightvein. I need you to relax and let me into your thoughts…and I will do the same. Synergize with me and guide the…process. I will be there to assist you however you want."

My thoughts!? How would that—

No! Can she see my memories? What if—

I need to calm down. She clearly said ‘thoughts.’ There's no way reading memories would be so simple. I should be fine as long as I don't let my thoughts wander to my secrets and stick to the business at hand.

It had to be fine. He didn't have much of a choice. Not when all their lives hung in the balance.

I just need to keep myself in line.

Should be simple.

Taking yet another deep breath, he closed his eyes and banished all the unruly thoughts.

Thoughts that included him being skewered to death by some spear-wielding fanatic or the one where the whole basement collapsed. Or the one where Esther peeped into his brain and exchanged the knowledge of time discrepancy and Duskfall for her own life—leaving him to die at the hands of the apostles.

These were all scenarios that could happen, but their possibility was either negligible or a possible result of inaction. It was nothing but peak paranoia.

Stop.

So he did, and his thoughts became calmer than a lake.

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Vern? Can you feel this?

That was not his own words or a hallucination. It was her. The words weren't conveyed as voice—instead, it was a notion. A notion that was attached to these foreign thoughts—clearly distinct from his own. They had a peculiar feeling to them. One he couldn't put a finger on. But it was a pleasant feeling nonetheless.

So he responded in kind.

Yes.

But something far more complicated started to populate in his mind. Threads.

Hundreds—no. Thousands of threads were spreading around him—or was that his perception?

No. It was her perception.

It was starkly dissimilar to his own. The more he focused on understanding it, the clearer everything became as an increasing number of threads made themselves known to him.

"What you are feeling right now are the Essence Strands I have weaved in objects around the station."

"I…see."

The more he listened—no, sensed her words, the richer they became—as in they had a vividness that was absent in vocal communication. Speech used intonation and body language to express a significant amount of meaning. But here, something else was at play, and it was making him jittery.

This synergy communicated more than just words. Each word seemed to have an emotion attached to it, while the whole sentence relayed a certain meaning right to his mind.

It was jarring. But fascinating.

"I understand that it's confusing, but I hope you're still with me. And a fair warning—if you start feeling emotionally numb, you need to let me know as soon as possible. This synergy isn't as harmless as it seems."

Well, that was the law of the world. Nothing was free.

"It's okay, Esther. I can take this much. I am with you."

He intentionally pronounced her name because she'd been doing the same. What if it was some kind of anchor to the thoughts? Better to proceed with caution wherever possible.

"Alright. So tell me. What did you understand? What was I trying to achieve? Don't worry about the time. It hasn't even been a few seconds outside. Think of it as the benefits of conversing through thoughts."

Well, ideas were indeed meant to be thousands of times faster than speech. It made sense. So he put together his best pitch and let loose.

You've been attempting to contact someone using the whole station as a conduit. But you failed. Again and again. If your Vision is anything like mine, it will work far better if you have a greater understanding of the objects under influence. Which is why I said I can help. I might not know every detail, but this could be our best shot.

"However, I was expecting myself to physically rotate knobs and valves to get things in order. This…wasn’t it."

He wondered if all his confusion, anxiety, and smugness at having figured out her problem was somehow being packed into his words and parceled to her brain for her to pick apart. Well, it was not something he could control.

"I…see. You’re indeed worthy of being a Savant. I apologize for not speaking up about it and wasting our time. It's just that my pursuers have…unique methods. By matching my words with the ideas that flit through my mind, that branding in my body can deduce far more than what I say. I couldn't risk that."

He felt her heaving a sigh of relief. He didn't know how that worked, but it was definitely a sigh.

"Luckily, Thought Synergy is completely different at a fundamental level and works outside the bounds of the physical body. It is primarily a conduit to control the Essence Strands, but this is another way of using it. Anyways, you're right. I was trying to contact my Mother."

A sense of longing filled Vern's heart at the mention of the word Mother, and the feeling did not amuse him. It wasn't his own. He missed his own mother, but he had long since come to terms with the fact that she was gone.

Or so he hoped.

If I can somehow get a distress signal to her, it wouldn't take her even a second to warp here and claim the heads of these sly Apostles.

"Well, maybe more than a single second. But it shouldn't take her too long to find a Traveler within the family and warp here. But that's the problem. This…this damned station wouldn't listen to me. You have experienced it yourself already, but every time I attempt a transmission, things go out of control. They just keep getting polluted."

Vern couldn't contain his curiosity this time and interjected.

So pollution comes from failed Visions?

"Yes. I think. Maybe there's more, but that's not the point right now. I will need you to either explain everything about this station to me, or we need to let each other go deeper in our minds. That way, you can directly take control of the Essence Strands, and I can assist you. But Thought Synergy cannot be elevated one-sidedly."

After giving him what felt like half a second, she continued.

I would suggest the second option because I once tried to learn Mechanical arts from Master Svartlf and how machines like my Cogwing worked. That was the day I realized I have as much aptitude for mechanics as a fish has for climbing trees.

That made a certain sense, but it was getting hairy. There was no way he was going to tutor a newbie about one of the most complex machines to exist on the planet as they inched toward their death. So he cut to the chase and asked her, Will you be able to read my memories?

He sensed something akin to a scoff as she said, "Haha, adorable. Do you really think I would open up my memories to an outsider? Do you think I can? The bindings of my Observation Record will turn me into a vegetable long before I willingly try to divulge anything inside it. And what did I tell you? Thought Synergy goes two ways."

So that meant if he couldn't see her memories, she obviously couldn't do it either. That was a relief.

But he still tried to assess this proposal. Ensuring none of the stray thoughts bubbled up to the surface of his mind, he went through some of the possibilities. He didn't care if she could control his perception as well. It was a blank slate right now, anyway—

He received a notion of curiosity from her end, and he forcefully halted all such thoughts. There were possibly other dangers, but what if he thought about them, and they were transmitted straight to her mind?

That would defeat the whole purpose of being discrete. This was annoying.

So he made to nod, and he realized that actually sent a notion. She reacted to his nod with a…nod of her own?

But what exactly am I supposed to do? How do I…elevate our connection?

It's simple. Try to reach out to the Essence Strands, and don't resist when I try something similar.

He nodded again and visualized those thousands of glowing strands that floated all around him in the darkness. Picking one of them, he followed it.

Soon, that strand further divided itself into more strands—each leading to a different direction. Randomly selecting another one, he pursued it.

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Before too long, he felt it. A sense of rigidity pervaded his mind, and an impression of some kind of goal echoed in his thoughts.

It was to stay rigid and pass along messages. The only thought looping at this Essence Strand's edge was to fulfill this purpose. Vern quickly realized that this had to be the result of Synergizing with one of the tubes.

The feeling mesmerized him.

He was sensing what the tube felt.

How amazing was that?

But when nothing changed for a while, he retraced his steps and followed a different strand. However, before he could reach its end—

"Vern! WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"WHY!?"

"Why do you…"

"Why do you have the rune of an Elden One in your mind?!"