Murlian nervously stroked his long white beard in the dark, barely lamplit, alleyway. He knew it was a bad habit, a tell, but he couldn’t help it as he waited in Vicillion. He wished they could have met in one of the city’s cafes or cozy lounging rooms, but they’d all be packed and he needed privacy. An outworld instance was also out of the question. Neither party trusted the other 100%. So, ironically, they needed the privacy rights of The Continuance as a shield.
A cloaked figure passed, sploshing through the last remnants of rain. He thought they might duck in. Murlian let out a slow breath when they didn’t and straightened his robe. He’d forgone the purple insignia once again, but anyone would mark the cut as traditional Cogitare. His people weren’t known for fashion.
Murlian called up the time on his interface, ‘17.1.’ She’s late. Then the number faded into the night. He preferred to keep his field of view clear, especially in the darkness.
A rustle of wind and a deadened splash sounded behind him. He whipped to face it.
“Good evening,” the breathy voice said. She stood between him and the brick wall at the end of the night alley. She adjusted her hood.
“Lady of Waves.” Murlian nodded his respect.
“I apologize for my tardiness. Matters of state.”
“It’s nothing, Lady.”
She gracefully inclined her head and the iridescent scales at her temples caught the lamplight. “You bring news?”
“Yes, Lady. As I said last time, there have been unexpected results. I continued to gather data and use my influence where I could. As we suspected, the AI not only affected the instance with its gravemist creation, but it successfully wrote to travelers as well. I was able to confirm since we last met.”
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“That shouldn’t be possible.” She raised a hand to her cheek with a dancer’s grace.
“I don’t understand it.” Murlian shook his head. “You know as well as I that we only added subroutines to trigger the event. No one involved took it lightly. We checked and re-checked. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. We made sure it wasn’t destroyed for nothing.”
“I know the stakes better than most,” she reminded in her almost-whisper.
He nodded solemnly, ashamed he’d dredged up that memory.
“Have you confirmed you remain unaffected?” she asked.
“I believe so. I sent travelers for samples and experiments. They were able to help me install some mitigations. Even as its creator, the AI was as much limited by the system as I was.”
“I see.” She nodded slowly, again showing off her scales. “Please confirm with a scan at your earliest convenience. We need you, Murl, for what’s to come.”
“I will,” he promised. It should be easy enough to use a scanning bay and compare with his records from before the partitioned instance. He even had a contact who owed him a favor.
“Have you confirmed, as well, that the remnants have been removed?” she asked.
“Yes. Got the last coded transmit yesterday. There will be no additional incidents. No one will ever know.”
“Good.” She started to walk out of the alley, dark cloak billowing behind her.
If only the other High Seats knew. Murlian still wasn’t sure how she’d managed it.
The feeds weren’t saying much. The Operator wasn’t found guilty—one less item for Murl’s conscience. He’d have to keep an eye on him though. The Deinya government was appeased with services in kind. FRC got their money, of course. But the deferral for a year with provisional access—that was a surprise, even more so than their success at keeping the aberration masked. What he’d give to have been in that room.
“I heard the trial went well,” Murlian called out.
The Lady of Waves halted and the dark fabric fell as she turned back to face him. “After a fashion.”
“What does that mean?”
Her grace turned sharp and it felt like the air was sucked out of the alley. “While unpredictable, the promise outweighs the risks.”