Rori's torturous and lonely peaceful and homely limbo was interrupted by a stream of typeface, somehow both visible and audible to his consciousness. It was a good thing, too. He was almost ready to resort to mentally shouting at the top of his imaginary voice praying for salvation like a good soul ready to rejoice.
Alert! Integrity Failure Detected in Core ID: 0.0.931-47!
Initializing SOP… //Standard Operating Procedures
Initializing SOP-ACRP… //Automated Core Recycling Program
Initializing SOP-ACRP.EECR… //Extract Excess Core Resources
The sequence of words came to a halt. There was a substantial pause.
The periods began blinking in a rhythmic dot-dot-dot to indicate loading time. Well, not actual periods. The characters were more akin to dashes than dots, and they were flickering back and forth in a zig-zag pattern instead of blinking. But 'dot, dot, dot' is the closest English analogue.
Rori idly noted that he has just encountered yet another unknown language. First it was the tail end of the bone-man's chant, now this. In both cases, Rori found himself following along as if he'd been speaking it his entire life.
…Failure! Central servers unresponsive.
Integrating resources into SOP-ACRP…
Initializing SOP-ACRP.RCD… //Resetting Core Defaults
Initializing SOP-ACRP.ECD… //Extracting Core Data
Initializing SOP-ACRP.ACD… //Assessing Core Data
Another substantial pause. Zig-zag-zig went the not-periods.
…Alert! Anomaly detected within Core ID: 0.0.931-47!
Initializing SOP-ACRP.Anomolies…
Anomaly, huh? Rori thought. That must be me!
Alert! FPP detected. //Foreign Processing Power
Initializing SOP-ACRP.Anomolies.FPP…
A third substantial pause.
Foreign processing power? That's DEFINITELY me! So they needed my brainpower after all!
Determining compatibility of FPP with Core ID: 0.0.931-47…
Determining quality of FPP…
Determining integrity of FPP…
Determining risk of FPP…
Analyzing FPP…
Let me guess. Quality: 10/10, Integrity: 10/10, Risk: 0/10. Analysis: Super handsome. And smart. And humble.
Alert! FPP identified as Soul ID: 0.0.null.
Alert! Soul ID value 0.0 has triggered emergency override.
Wait, it actually WAS referring to me?
Attention intruder!
Rori snapped to full attention at yet another language change. There had also been a sudden tone shift, from artificial-sounding to life-like inflections. Angry, authoritative inflections. Finally, there were no corresponding words-on-screen. Taken with the words themselves, it was a worrying combination.
Unauthorized mortal occupation of dungeon cores is punishable by immediate termination! Leave now or suffer the consequences!
Well that escalated quickly.
DON'T WORRY, I WILL! JUST TELL ME HOW!
He also made a token effort to 'leave', but he had no idea how to do anything at all in his current state, so nothing happened.
You have chosen poorly!
I didn't 'choose' anything!
Farewell, foolish mortal! May the system have mercy on your soul!
Hey! Wait just a minute- but his protest was cut off by the artificial voice of the automated language.
Purging FPP…
…Ahhhhh whatever.
Years ago, his response would have been more severe. But he had spent months coming to grips with his own mortality, learning his own helplessness, and now he was more resigned than angry.
There was another extended wait, the passage of time marked only by the zig-zag-zigging of an alien loading indicator and Rori's own thoughts.
So I've been saved by miraculous alien tech, only to be killed by uncaring alien bureaucracy. Figures. But if I DO survive, this automated program is going to face my… gratitude. Yeah, that's it. Gratitude.
Alert! FPP cannot be purged with available resources.
Phew. Looks like I lucked out. Fear me, lines of code, I'm coming to spaghettify you!
Requesting additional resources…
I mean- uh- OPTIMIZE! Yes, I'm going to clean you up and optimize you!
Failure! Central servers unresponsive.
Phew again.
Consulting SOP-ACRP.Anomolies.FPP.subroutines…
Requesting authorization for Soul ID: 0.0.null to serve as PPP for Core ID: 0.0.931-47…
Failure! Central servers unresponsive.
Granting temporary authorization for Soul ID: 0.0.null to serve as PPP for Core ID: 0.0.931-47…
Failure! PPP must not contain null values.
Consulting SOP-mortals.nullvalue…
Requesting authorization to resolve null values of Soul ID: 0.0.null…
Failure! Central servers unresponsive.
Consulting SOP-mortals.nullvalue.csunresponsive…
Retrieving temporary value for Soul ID: 0.0.null…
Hello! said a cheery voice in the same language used by the would-be terminator. What's your name?
There was a pause that would have been awkward between two living people.
Hello! the voice repeated in exactly the same tones as before. What's your name?
Rori wondered if he should attempt to answer. He weighed his options, then made his decision.
Hello! What's your name?
Nah.
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
Ignoring the second prompt, his eyes scrolled all the way to the top of the text wall, which had grown quite lengthy by this point. Time to commit a few important-looking lines to memory while he has the chance.
Hello! What's your name?
Ugh. If he can manage to ignore that for long enough.
At least the words weren't appearing on screen, just like the warning from earlier. Otherwise an endless stream of Hello! What's your name? might have clogged the textwall and pushed his memorization targets off-screen.
Hello! What's your name?
Let's see, it starts with 'Alert! Integrity Failure Detected in-'
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
Oh, be quiet!
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
Go away!
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
AAAAAGH! ShutUpShutUpSHUTUP!
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
__________________________________
Dreadlord Clac checked the time, his illusory face showing an illusory frown.
He had run out of papers an hour ago, and he has been shoring up his mathematical abilities in the meantime.
He completed two separate practice runs already: two distance/direction combinations that would simulate two true dungeon core appearances. For each, he performed the math to determine the precise locations, then consulted his atlases to route the quickest paths to those parts of the world.
For the past minute, he has been tapping his pen on the blank page in front of him, thinking carefully about his upcoming schedule.
If the core does not reform soon, this project is going to start clashing with his other obligations.
__________________________________
Finally done!
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
Rori was now sure he would remember everything from the text wall.
Hello! What's your name?
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
More importantly, he had reached a few conclusions about his current situation.
Hello! What's your name?
The term 'core' had come up over and over in the textwall, but his automatic-understanding of the word hadn't come with automatic understanding of context. The word 'core' was too broad on its own, just like the closest English translation, and the extra details in the text wall only narrowed it down so much.
Hello! What's your name?
Thankfully, something else had already blown the puzzle wide open, and it only took until he got there on his first recollection to realize it:
'Attention intruder. Unauthorized mortal occupation of dungeon cores is punishable by-'
The threat had only come as audio, not text, so he had to remember it manually. And despite being different from the coding language, his mysterious polyglottery informed him that the two terms for 'core' were referring to the same thing. Everything had clicked into place from there.
Thank you, terminator friend, Rori thought to himself. Couldn't have done it without ya!
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
Well, he thought. Not much left I can do with the information I've gathered so far. I guess it's time.
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
That message alone probably added over an hour of time to his efforts. It came up every time he explicitly 'vocalized' a thought, meaning that his thoughts were somehow being heard.
'Prayer' might've actually done something after all. Who'd've figured?
Please answer in the format of 'my name is [insert name here].'
Pretending that he hadn't heard it – a habit that was beaten into even HIS rebellious mind – Rori finally moved on.
He readied himself to memorize new lines as they appeared, then he waited for the original prompt to appear one last time. He had no way of knowing when or if the textwall would vanish forever, taking its alien secrets with it.
Hello! What's your name?
Using the language and format provided by that stupid thought-killing line, he finally replied.
My name is I-
Habit kicked in at the last moment, stopping him from referring to himself as 'Israel' to a stranger.
-Rori, he thought instead.
Soul ID set as 0.0.irori.
No! Not 'irori'! It's Rori! Just Rori! My name is Rori! My name is Rori!
Granting temporary authorization for Soul ID: 0.0.irori to serve as primary processing power for Core ID: 0.0.931-47…
…Well that's a great start, isn't it?
Rori quickly calmed himself down so he could commit that and future lines to memory. Even the best eidetikers in the world can't remember something if they're not paying enough attention in the first place.
Integrating prior processing power unit "Nominal Operating Normal Standard Artificial Processing Intelligence Entity" Number 7-3n717135 into primary processing unit Soul ID: 0.0.irori…
Terminating SOP-ACRP…
Initializing "SOP-HelloWorld!"…
All at once, the entire textwall was replaced by a new interface – one that looked like it was meant for front-end service, not back-end repairs. When new words appeared, they were in the same language used by the would-be terminator and the cheery interrupter.
Greetings! Welcome to the Dungeon Core tutorial!
For the first time since Rori's arrival, he finally did feel a little welcomed. Emphasis on little. But it was better than being treated like swine by automated bureaucracy.
It's almost like I'm a customer.
Please remember your responsibility to report any errors you encounter to the proper authorities.
Hmm… make that a beta tester.
Note that your session may be terminated at any time, for any reason, as outlined in your orientation.
Make that a beta tester caged by crappy contract clauses.
The hyper pace and small-font text of the disclaimer reminded Rori of TV commercials about pharmaceutical products.
Select your Base Danger Level (Difficulty):
0_Harmless (Insane)
1_Saintly (Hard)
2_Safe (Medium)
3_Mild (Medium)
4_Moderate (Easy)
5_Dangerous (Easy)
6_Risky (Easy)
7_Belligerent (Medium)
8_Violent (Medium)
9_Murderous (Hard)
10_Genocidal (Insane)
Rori blinked at the list, skimming it once. Others would have seen a menu, a choice, a start of an RPG adventure. And while Rori saw these things as well, he also saw something else: a stopping point that required his input to proceed. An opportunity.
He started repeating the last of the 'back-end' messages to himself – the few lines that had appeared after he had given his name. With the textwall gone, he was now running on borrowed time.
After the first mental recitation, he paused to try a few things. Namely, he tried mentally vocalizing a few words.
File. Files. Open Files. Note. Notes. Open Notes. Notepad. Notebook. Journal. Diary. Text. Document. Word. Word Document. Open Word. Sheet. Paper. Papers please. Parchment.
He was stretching it at the end there. Neither 'paper' nor 'parchment' were on the list he wanted try once he finally escaped the hell of Hello! or Please answer in the format of… interrupting every other thought.
When nothing worked, he went back to his mental recitations. This time he went over the entire sequence of external-stimulus memories, from the skeleton man and the chanting, all the way through the textwall pre- and post- name submission.
With memories refreshed once more, he tried a different approach. He vocalized it – mentalized it? – a single word in multiple different languages, without and with an addition to go with it. He chose to start with Settings, a hopefully universal constant of interface screens.
(English) Settings. Open Settings.
(Bone-Man Language) Settings. Open Settings.
(System back-end Language) Settings. Initialize Settings.
(System Moderators / User Interface Language) Settings- Aha! Success at last!
A new window appeared above the old, containing a different kind of options list, one he was much more familiar with.
Let's see…
System opacity, no…
System color, no…
Font options, system volume, system brightness, no, no, no…
Notifications? You are getting turned OFF! Goodbye and good riddance!
Preferred language? I'll come back for you later…
Flavor text? Again, later…
He skimmed through the list like a man on a mission, making note of everything he was excited to explore, but not seeing the function he needed. He dismissed the window after reaching the end. Thinking Escape and didn't work, but Back did.
After another recitation, he tried all the previous 'word document' command words again, this time using the appropriate language and format (i.e. no need for 'open', just think the command word itself). But they all failed.
After yet another recitation, he began going down the mental list of other command words he had wanted to try, starting with the obvious one.
Status.
Success! Well, sort of.
Please finish the tutorial to access your status.
Interesting, but don't rush me. Also, I said no notifications! Now begone with the almighty word of 'Back!'
The pop-up disappeared.
Next up: inventory.
Nothing.
Interface.
Please finish tutorial to access interface.
Back, foul demon! Back I say! Now let's see, where was I… Return. Cancel. Menu.
He went through the remaining words on his list of pre-planned mental commands. None worked. He also tried a few non-planned commands. Those didn't work either. At this point he was running out of ideas to try, until sudden inspiration struck.
Bug report. Error report. Report error. I would like to report an error.
A screen appeared before him.
Please describe the nature of this error, it said at the top of an empty box.
Could… could it be?
He mentally recited his memories, thinking as explicitly as he could, watching words appear on the screen as he thought them.
It is! Praise be! A way to write at last! And thought-to-text at that, how lovely. Oooooh, and automatic language recognition! You and I are going to be BEST friends.
The error-report screen accepted almost every ounce of language he could remember hearing in the past few hours. Unfortunately, he did not 'remember hearing' the first four chants from the bone man. Not as words, anyway. But everything else – from the bone man's final chants, to the scripts in the text wall and the pre-recorded voices that weren't – it all came out nicely. (Except his attempts to dictate earthly languages, which returned errors on his error-report form.)
He checked over his work when he was done, and then realized a problem. Ideally he'd save the document somehow, but he only saw a glowing 'submit' button and nothing else.
Will it save if I submit?
Error report submitted.
Rori's eyes would have blinked in surprise if he still had them. And then his eyes would have widened in terror as he realized-
Error! Central servers unresponsive.
Oh, thank goodness, he thought in relief.
Would you like to save to Drafts?
NO!
Draft discarded.
He felt the bodiless sensation of slumping in relief.
What's that, system? Notify the authorities that tried to terminate me? Send them a word-for-word transcript of the fact that they failed to do so? Great idea! What could possibly go wrong?
Even saving it as a draft might be a bad idea.
Wait a moment… Drafts, he thought to himself.
And blessed be this day, for there did appear a screen, and upon that screen, thought-words flowed forth once more. This time, however, he hesitated before going through the full recitation.
If the 'authorities' can peek into my private places and look up my drafts… This thought did not appear on the screen, for it was deliberately thought in English. You know what? YOLO.
With 'central servers unresponsive', and with his memorizations starting to fade, he decided to risk it.
Every moment that passed was a chance for small mistakes to be added by his mind, for slight adjustments to happen, for small details to be forgotten. Especially the textwall.
So he went through the recitation one final time. Once he was done, words like 'save' and 'submit' and 'save draft' began appearing at the bottom of the draft, until…
Draft Saved as Draft One.
Back. The window closed. Drafts. The window opened, blank. Open Draft One. Getting it in one, he gave it a once-over. He decided to leave his failed key word attempts in the draft, just to preserve history. For good measure, he added everything he could find in the Settings tab. This took a bit of time due to the long list within the Preferred Language feature. Then, on second thought, he put the Settings stuff in a separate draft.
Save as Draft Two. Back. Drafts. Open Draft One. Back. Open Draft Two. Once again, he confirmed everything was there. Back.
With the drafts window closed, the same initial choice hovered in his vision.
Select your Base Danger Level (Difficulty):
0_Harmless (Insane)
1_Saintly (Hard)
2_Safe (Medium)
3_Mild (Medium)
4_Moderate (Easy)
5_Dangerous (Easy)
6_Risky (Easy)
7_Belligerent (Medium)
8_Violent (Medium)
9_Murderous (Hard)
10_Genocidal (Insane)
He looked at the list with longing, tempted to start exploring it.
Hmph! he pouted. Soon, my lovelies. I'm almost there. But stop rushing me, okay? First, housekeeping- er, system-setting. Settings.
No 'dark mode' option was readily available, but maybe he can get there manually by changing the screen color to black and the font color to white…
__________________________________
The dungeon had not reformed in the six hours that passed since midnight, either setting a new record for 'dungeon respawn time', or perhaps a new record for 'resources wasted on a single common dungeon core'. Clac has officially been forced to put the recovery process on indefinite hiatus – a truly dreadful thing that he had hoped to avoid.
His facial illusion did not scowl as he stood and gathered his pile of papers. One of the whole points of this project is discovery. Throughout thousands of attempts, he'd had hundreds of failures. Some of those, he turned to success. Granted, not a single basic core has failed to respawn before. But so long as it's a one-off and not the start of a trend, a failure to respawn would be valuable information in and of itself. If it happens, he shall accept it with dignity. At least the core still exists – or rather, the soul bound to it does.
Clac touched his illusory chin with illusory fingers.
Assuming that total respawn failure is not the case, what could possibly be taking so long?
__________________________________
I wonder what THIS button does.
Flavor Text: Off/On -> Off/On
Rori saw no obvious changes within the Settings window itself, so he Backed out of it, only to see some very obvious changes on the screen beneath it.
How aggressive would you like to be?
0_Mercy for all living creatures. No exceptions.
1_Violence only against monsters, not people.
2_Aggression only in defense of life, liberty, and property.
3_How aggressive I will be depends on how aggressive my enemies are.
4_Pre-emptive strikes are a useful tool, but sometimes bad for business…
5_I'll be exactly as aggressive as I need to be.
6_Don't blame me if my delvers die. All is fair in love and core…
7_How aggressive will I be? That depends. How weak are THEY?
8_Anything is permitted in pursuit of survival, power, and profit.
9_"Violence" is my middle name!
10_"Mercy" shall not exist in my vocabulary. No exceptions.