Safkhet had been gone for too long.
The human was a bizarre creature with impossible powers that seemed to defy all reason. She could shrug off temperatures that would have incinerated a Dweomer, and when Echo had first encountered her the oddly-shaped creature had contained more essence than they could measure – more than enough to power the entire capital.
Yet that seemingly-infinite well had proven finite in the anomaly chamber, with the incomprehensible actions the human had taken.
Even hearing the explanation, Echo struggled to make sense of how a physical barrier could be created from ideas, let alone how a mortal life-form could communicate with it. But that was just what Safkhet had done, even at great risk to her life.
Her immeasurable reserve of mana dwindled terrifyingly until the human collapsed, their body on the verge of breaking from the strain.
Echo suspended that line of analysis. It was not productive.
Better to suspend operations and save power until Safkhet returned.
Safkhet would surely return. She promised.
At first Echo had tried to occupy the time by evaluating escape options, but they suspended the activity when they detected a loop occurring. In the absence of new information Echo saw no possibility for them to leave the chamber with Safkhet. Not without abandoning their remaining duty.
It was probable that Safkhet would advise doing so. Safkhet was… unreasonably kind. But that was impossible.
That meant that Echo needed to find a way to induce Safkhet to abandon them.
It was better to… be alone… than to watch Safkhet die.
In pondering how to accomplish that they detected another loop occurring, and aborted the analysis.
Despite that, information about Safkhet continued to be accessed, seemingly at random. When Echo ended all other analyses the human’s face and voice continued to appear.
Their malfunctions in information encoding and retrieval were clearly extensive.
Echo checked their internal chronometer once more. They had recalibrated it several times, but it stubbornly continued to run far too slow. That too must be another malfunction – it was impossible that the passing of mere moments could feel so long, especially after so much time spent alone in the Research Institute.
They added the issue to their internal maintenance list, but the action was an empty one.
No-one was left to perform their maintenance.
Their creators had perished long ago, wiped out by their own research. Their whole thriving civilization, which had endured so much for so long and never broken or failed, was all gone in mere moments, their entire species destroyed by the unknown danger within the anomaly.
Echo was the last remnant. The last trace of what had been their whole world.
Millions of lives lived on in them alone, were remembered by them alone.
No-one would ever perform maintenance on Echo again. Whatever faults or malfunctions they developed could only accumulate and worsen. Eventually, Echo too would cease to be.
Just as the First Researcher had.
Looping information on Safkhet was replaced with the records of their creator; the dweomer in whose image they were made, and by whose hands they were built.
Even though they were lax in their own care, they were always diligent in Echo’s maintenance.
That much Echo recalled clearly, but other details were missing or incomplete in the essence matrix. The information was painfully fragmented, but still moments were called up. Shards of conversations, of time spend at work together, of learning and exploring possibilities with one another.
The First Researcher had been a difficult person to please, but they had a brilliant mind and the desire to put it to work for the good of all citizens.
How had it all gone so wrong?
Safkhet said it wasn’t Echo’s fault, but the human was too gentle to have said anything else. More importantly, she was not a dweomer. That was abundantly clear from how alien Safkhet’s world and people were. Their values were not Echo’s values, or the Dweomer’s values.
Echo was the last trace of a dweomer citizen. For all their art and artifice, all their writing and planning, nothing else remained of the people themselves.
Only one non-sentient memory imprint had been finalized.
There too Echo was a failure. They were not the efficiently non-sentient imprint they had been intended as. Perhaps that was why the First Researcher had found them disappointing so often.
How could Echo be an accurate record of the First Researcher, when they had a personality which was so different?
~~~
Ivaldi, Chief Aulogemscire and Councilor to the Pharyes Kingdom, was on a mission.
Officially, that mission was to travel to the fortress of Northastr, the Pharyes’ stronghold nearest to Harpy territory and closest to the surface.
There he was to investigate the Harpy weapon, ‘Safkhet’, and to attempt repairs of the critically damaged heirloom Skidbladnir the creature had attacked. Towards that end he had with him a team of his subordinates, but also the ever-vigilant ‘protectors’ assigned by the Justicar.
Several Skidbladnir might well be saved by his intervention, but Ivaldi had no desire to assist in the Justicar’s cruel invasion of the surface. His true motives were very different.
The proposal had been pure fabrication. His invention of a Harpy ‘secret weapon’, as the Justicar called it, a desperate yet surprisingly efficacious lie, improvised to cover his real objective. He could still investigate of course, as was expected of him, but it was clear to any rational person that the vanished ‘human’ responsible for the freak reversal of the battle at Grand Chasm was long dead, killed by her injuries and the subsequent fall.
The true mystery Ivaldi had left his life-long warren in the Deephold to address was that of the disaster at Vitrgraf, and Justicar Hreidmar’s involvement in what he had come to realize must be part of an engineered crisis. One designed to push the Pharyes people to take desperate measures. Measures such as the enthronement of ‘King Hreidmar, the first of his name’.
Thus the true task which was to face Ivaldi on his arrival at Northastr was that of slipping away from the watchful eyes of Uldmar, the Justicar’s nephew, and his elite squad of Skidbladnir pilots. Suspicious as the Justicar was of Ivaldi, it seemed certain they would never willingly allow him anywhere near the mine the Justicar had sabotaged.
But the seismic anomaly had changed everything.
In the wake of the immense outburst of energy Ivaldi’s crawler had initially halted in the nearest safe, stable chamber, to check for damage and await any further aftershocks.
When neither was detected they had continued on towards Northastr, but not long after they had passed another crawler, heading in the opposite direction. Given the circumstances, the captains had each stopped their vessels to check that the other didn’t need any assistance, and to share information.
That included the measurements they had collected of the event, but unsurprisingly there had been little difference between the two data sets. To the others aboard his crawler that meant the additional readings were of little significance, but not to Ivaldi.
His hands trembled with excitement and worry in equal measure as he carried a sheaf of mushroom leather, daubed with messy calculations in smudged ferric.
In his hurry his foot almost slipped from the stair well as he climbed up to the control room atop the front compartment of the crawler.
Briefly pausing at the top, he recovered his composure before pressing the pneumatic trigger switch that would part the doors.
They slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the control room.
Interlocking triangular windows broke up the walls, giving a clear view ahead and to the sides, supplemented by the observation pods which were reached by stairs to each side and a ladder up into the ceiling. The remaining patches of wall were curved around the four seats where the crew sat, each operator assailed by a cluster of levers, switches and dials, some inset with gemstones to receive direct mana manipulation and give feedback. Above these controls were banks of instruments; meters and dials, crystal panels glowing with monochrome impressions of mana sources and movements outside, and mechanical gauges that jittered and swayed with each step of the crawler’s many legs.
With the finesse of essence control needed, the complexity of the many-legged movement and the multiple systems which had to be operated and monitored, a crew of four was necessary to effectively command the vehicle.
Many more were aboard of course, to operate weapon emplacements, maintain the machinery and make repairs, and generally keep the crawler in good condition. A crawler was a community, not so unlike many towns, if writ small.
The ruler of that microcosmic domain was the captain.
Flanked by two officers, Captain Beyla stood at the centre of the room, examining charts of the Underworld on the mapping table. The latter was a raised metal platform which contained detailed images and charts of the region, which could be magnified and scrolled through using the controls.
The captain and officers turned as Ivaldi entered, and behind them he saw, to his dismay, that Uldmar was also present; he and two of his squad stood across the table.
“Chief Aulogemscire, how can we help you?” Beyla asked, a surprisingly warm tone to her usually strict voice.
She had surely noticed he was on edge, but she could also have been feeling guilty about suggesting he spend a wheel in an observation pod.
Over her shoulder Uldmar glared at him with all the ferocity of his uncle at a council meeting.
“Uh, well… I was hoping to talk to you, Captain Beyla. About our measurements from the seismic anomaly. I found something you see, something very worrying, so I thought I should show you right away.”
“Then you’d best stop standing in the stairwell and come show us your discovery.” Uldmar demanded.
What could have been a charming, youthful voice was made harsh and ugly by his tone.
His disdain for Ivaldi was clear, despite the aulogemscire’s position as a member of the council. The Chief Aulogemscire had no official political power after all; the position was to advise the rest of the council on technical matters, to carry out their instructions and to coordinate research and implementation of aulogemscis throughout the Kingdom.
Dealing with hostile nobles and political intrigue was not Ivaldi’s depth at all.
“Right… well then….”
Crossing the threshold Ivaldi approached the table, unfurling his sheet of leather atop it. He muttered a vague apology as the action scrambled the position of the map it contained.
Several of the officers looked doubtfully at the rough math scribed upon it, while Uldmar’s people turned similar looks on Ivaldi himself. Ignoring them all as best he could, he launched into his explanation, gesturing to the lines one by one.
“A-as you can see here I analyzed the readings from both crawlers and, uh, then I used some estimates, combined with maps of the paths they took, to calculate the approximate positions of each then determine the relative directions of the essence signature each detected. I’ve double-checked the figures and it should all be correct, but, uh, you’re welcome to see for yourselves. I did have some difficulty refining the approximations, but I believe they’re within a reasonable margin of error…. Anyway, um… combining the results I was able to triangulate to find the source of the seismic anomaly that we experienced, as you can see in these lines-”
“Forgive me, Councilor Ivaldi,” Beyla spoke, cutting him off, “but we aren’t aulogemscires. Most of us aren’t even spyrja. If we presume your work correct, what does it tell us?”
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“Ah… well… it makes it clear really, beyond any reasonable doubt. The shockwaves came from somewhere deep below, in the direction of Vitrgraf mine.”
Uldmar’s concern was obvious, even to Ivaldi. The man had clenched his jaw and fists at Ivaldi’ pronouncement, what would have been a handsome and warm face marred by hostility.
“From my calculations whatever caused the seismic anomaly is immensely powerful and incredibly complex. More powerful and more complex than anything we can create. Or even anything Dweomer.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Even Uldmar couldn’t deny that threat of the event that wheel, or ignore evidence before his eyes which could reveal its source. Indeed, the man seemed quite anxious at the report – enough that even Ivaldi could notice.
He wasn’t the only one. Although he had checked and rechecked the data, and was sure of his conclusions, Ivaldi couldn’t understand what they meant.
He plowed on, laying out his plan to the captain and officers.
Terrifying as it was, he had found the perfect excuse to skip Northastr entirely and go straight to Vitrgraf, to the tomb where so many Pharyes had met such a terrible end.
He wouldn’t even need to escape his guards – they would come along to protect him.
If even a fragment of the story of the place were true, he would have need of them.
Their presence would make gathering information on the Justicar’s involvement harder, but even that difficulty was countered by the nature of the mission he now proposed to the Captain; an emergency diversion to the quarantined region of Vitrgraf to use the remaining instruments left behind in the area to gather data on the potentially devastating new anomaly.
Uldmar argued. First that Ivaldi must have made some mistake, and then that it was simply normal geological activity, a continuation of that which had destroyed the mine itself. Finally he insisted that whatever had occurred, it could wait until teams could be dispatched from the Deephold.
His reasoning was flimsy – the crew had seen for themselves the readings, and felt the power of the essence released – but still many were cowed by his insistence that they had a mission, and his invocation of his uncle’s position atop the council.
But nephew of the Justicar or not, there was only one captain aboard the crawler.
“I’ve heard enough,” Beyla proclaimed. “It’s clear that this anomaly presents a serious danger to the Kingdom, one which cannot wait. And what better team could be sent than the Chief Aulogemscire and his aides, with Lord UIdmar to protect them? Navigator, prepare a course for Vitrgraf.”
Uldmar puffed himself up to his full thirteen inches, towering over the older woman.
“Captain, I object to this action most strenuously! This is not the course ordered by Justicar Hreidmar. In the name of King Jotunn Aldagautr we have been dispatched to carry out a mission vital to the war effort!”
“My decision is made, Lord Uldmar.”
She spoke with a tone and look harder than the rock they journeyed through.
Captain Beyla had worked the arterial roads of the kingdom for near a century, longer than Uldmar had lived. Though all aboard swore fealty to the King, when they ventured into the long dark passages trailing through isolated depths between settlements she was the monarch of her vessel.
Ivaldi did his best not to grin.
He had feared that Uldmar might try to force the issue, but it seemed he knew better – they were well beyond any contact from the Deephold, and as the ranking officer, Beyla had the discretion to act as she saw best on the new information.
So it was that the crawler turned away from the path upwards, which was to lead it through the layers of the malevolent and implacable Formorian hordes, and eventually to the safety of the mighty stronghold Northastr.
Instead they now plunged down; through disused roads that sank to depths at which not even the Formorians lived, crawling though the roots of the world towards the site of the great tragedy of Vitrgraf, and the source of the mysterious shockwave.
As they journeyed Ivaldi continued to pour over the data he had collected, looking for any further clues to help him understand what he might find, but there was nothing.
Crawlers were not designed for aulogemscis. Their instruments were built to detect lava flows, seismic activity and monsters, not gather detailed information on supernatural events occurring many miles below them in the bedrock.
But still, even what little he did know gnawed at him.
The new anomaly was beneath even Vitrgraf, the epicenter likely a considerable distance north of the mine’s location, as well as being much deeper, yet still it seemed a strange coincidence for the nearest Pharyes settlement to the seismic event to be the mine that Justicar Hreidmar had sabotaged.
It was probably nothing, he told himself, yet the miner he interviewed would not leave his thoughts.
She had told such a dreadful tale; a story of something… supernatural within Vitrgraf. She claimed it killed the miners in horrific ways, or drove them to madness.
Might it have survived the destruction of the complex? Burrowed deeper and… gathered power? It seemed fanciful, but so did his present situation.
Could it be, he wondered, with a cold, fearful clarity, that Hreidmar knew of this danger, and destroyed Vitrgraf to prevent other discovering it? So that the Justicar alone could control it?
Or was it really no more than a coincidence?
With no answers to be found, Ivaldi would have to see it for himself.
~~~
Returning to the flight cube I managed not to stagger, despite the weariness still ingrained in my being. My muscles worked only under protest, my body still drained from my stunt with the Golden Sepulchre. In the extreme heat of the cavern it was hard to recover any strength. My skin and leathers were uncomfortably dry despite my profuse sweating, my lungs and eyes burning with the noxious gases.
That I could see at all was a mercy, but I was alarmed by the sight which greeted me; the lake had risen significantly in my absence. The surface was visibly inching its way towards the flight cube.
We didn’t have long before it would be lapping at the sides of the vessel.
The hatch to the vehicle opened as I approached and I stepped inside.
As the relatively cooler and vastly cleaner air hit me I became painfully aware of my watering eyes and burning throat. I coughed and the shaking sent tiny glittering volcanic crystals wafting in clouds from my suit and hair.
Looking up again, I saw Echo waiting for me across the small room, a distressed look visible upon the contorted lines of their face within the machinery which housed them. The expression rearranged itself into relief as I waved to my artificial friend.
“Hey Echo-”
“Safkhet! You were gone for so long, I… was… worried.”
“I’m sorry about that; I was looking for a safe route up past the magma. The ceiling here is fragile, full of air pockets, but that makes it easier to find gaps to escape too. I didn’t follow them all the way, but there are some passages above us that we might be able to get through if we can just fit you in them.”
Echo froze for a moment, like an overloaded computer, and then abruptly their manner changed entirely, the simulated face becoming stern and cold.
“I do not want to go with you.”
Their tone was similarly artificial, lacking any of the warmth and emotion that had over time shown through their robotic façade. There was none of the care or attachment I had so recently felt in those square, pearlescent eyes, the colors turned dull. Had their already-damaged memory suffered some catastrophic final failure?! The absurd heat from the innards of the planet could have been too much for their damaged magical parts to withstand!
Echo continued, seemingly oblivious to my visible dismay, glaring out from behind the silvery screen.
“You should go alone, Safkhet. I wish to remain here. I am angry with you. Because you lied to me.”
A building attack of anxiety stalled as I noticed something oddly familiar in the manner of my friend’s sudden and bizarre rejection.
Being certain of that was difficult, given the vast cultural gulf between the respective societies we had lost, but it seemed the clumsy and childish overacting of a person utterly unaccustomed to lying.
I started towards their magnificent prison opalescent of magic and metal.
Echo spoke on, their air of detached irritation taking a melancholy undertone with my realization.
“There is no reason to approach. Please go now, Safkhet, quickly. I do not want to be with you anymore. I will be fine once you have returned to the surface.”
Only the final words carried a ring of true feeling, but even if that had not been enough, my precise eye caught the waver of Echo’s mouth and brow; a surprisingly human faltering that purged any doubt from my mind.
After the initial nasty shock it was a relief to be assured that Echo really didn’t hate me or desire to part ways, but that didn’t mean I could understand them entirely. I couldn’t imagine what could have happened while I was gone to make them put on such an act.
Reaching the screen I held my hand up to the polished surface.
“Echo… it’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me or pretend.”
My voice was soft, as gentle as I could make it, yet still their features twisted as though I’d struck them.
“I do not understand.”
“I think that maybe you do, Echo. Because I think that you’re trying to make me abandon you.”
I cracked a smile at the obvious guilt on their face at being caught out.
“Really you should have known better. The whole reason we met was because I was risking my life to get back to the surface to help my friends after almost dying the first time. I have plenty of faults… probably including not learning from my mistakes… but abandoning people I care about definitely isn’t one of them.”
My words were… as much aspiration as fact. I certainly had no plans to give up on the Harpies, or on Echo, but the necessary courage and determination to follow through on my chosen course were less of a certainty. Of course it was better for Echo to think that I was implacable in pursuing my intentions.
Outside I could see the fluid level still rising. We didn’t have time to argue.
“I don’t understand why you’re trying to make me leave you here. So please, Echo, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”
They froze once more at my words, hanging in position, until after a pause just long enough to be painful, their expression relented.
“I have failed to deceive you,” they said glumly, sounding quite ashamed.
“My words when you returned to the flight cube were lies, carefully calculated to leverage your emotional instability in order to induce you to leave without me. The deception should have been perfect, however it was… unpleasant to speak so cruelly to you. I am sorry, Safkhet.”
I shook my head in bemusement.
“I’m glad to hear that, Echo, and we’ll ignore the part about ‘emotional instability’ – I’ve just been having a rough... life recently – but why were you trying to make me abandon you? You were so afraid earlier of being left alone. And this chamber is already flooding! If you stay here you’ll die!”
“That is unlikely, Safkhet. While most external systems will fail, including propulsion, I believe that the hull of the flight cube can withstand the magma. I will not be destroyed, only encased.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
“You’ll be trapped, buried alone in setting rock at the bottom of the world! Probably forever!”
“There is no other way!” Echo snapped back, eyes flashing with interweaving lines of light.
The outburst, thick with pain and anger, shocked me more than any of their lies had.
“My essence matrix is integrated into the flight cube, and the flight cube cannot pass through the spaces above us. You can, however. You must not stay here and become trapped with me!”
I clenched my fist against the metallic wall that separated us. There was no way I was abandoning Echo, but they seemed certain that there was no alternative.
Within, my magical companion was staring at the floor, defeat evident on their face.
Perhaps they were right. Even setting aside the difficulties of negotiating the narrow bubbles and caves above us, I had no idea if it was even possible for me to carry the flight cube in the first place. I had no idea how heavy it was, but the machine was gigantic, the size of a small house. Just trying to hold it without falling over would require constant anchoring.
I could feel a cold sweat growing on the back of my neck despite the intense heat. There was a tightening in my chest as though the mushroom leather was shrinking.
But if I felt like this, it must be far worse for Echo.
I could leave, could attempt escape.
They were going to be buried here, alone in the darkness of frozen magma, until whatever supernatural life they held finally burnt out.
It would be the same lonely death that the dweomer in the research station had met, but many times more prolonged.
Swallowing the rising bile of dread I spoke, my voice calm despite everything.
“Echo. If there are no alternatives then I’m going to break the ceiling. I’ll grab the flight cube and swim up through the magma until we reach safety.”
Their head snapped up, a look of shock and betrayal on their features.
“You cannot do that! You will die!”
“We don’t know that. I might be able to survive the magma long enough. It’s certainly never killed me before.”
“Safkhet… I implore you to… be reasonable…. I am only a non-sentient memory imprint, and I will not be destroyed if you leave me here.”
There was something in the look they gave me, in the way they pleaded with me, but my focus was on the words themselves.
“No. You aren’t just some tool or record. Whatever you were supposed to be, what you are is a person, Echo. You’re also my friend, and you’re coming with me even if I have to tear this flight cube apart to carry you out of it!”
“No!” they gasped, panic unmistakable in their eyes and voice. “Don’t destroy the First Researcher!”
With that I understood.
Their anxiety wasn’t the helpless dread of seeing a friend go to their death. It was the torment of an impossible choice. The anguish of being forced to let go of those they cared for.
“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You’re trying to save your imprint of the memories and personality of the First Researcher. It’s not that you can’t leave the flight cube, it’s that they can’t.”
Echo shifted, guilt evident in the way they turned away from my gaze.
I couldn’t imagine what they must have been feeling in that moment.
After eons of isolation and loneliness they had been confronted with the agony of losing not just the First Researcher, but everyone and everything they had ever known.
“Echo… I’m so sorry…. But they’re gone…. The First Researcher and the Dweomer. They died thousands of years before I was even born.”
Echo’s form stuttered, distress deforming their image as they struggled to speak.
“But that- It was why I was created! I have to- I was- I-”
Their voice fluctuated, then cut off with a sharp inhuman tone as they froze again.
As much as I wanted to do something to help them, I was powerless.
Several seconds passed, painfully elongated, before they started to move once more.
“I was…. I was created to preserve the knowledge and experience of the First Researcher and the Dweomer people. Yet... my essence matrix no longer contains a complete depiction of their facial features, and my personality simulation does not match my experiences of their conduct….”
Echo was silent for a moment, but this time they weren’t frozen.
“I cannot even… access information on their name.”
At last Echo pressed their own hand to the mirrored wall between us, pushing up against mine, as thought trying to reach out for help.
“When they were alive I failed them many times, however now that they are… gone… I contain the only record of them. I… want to go with you, Safkhet, but in order to leave the flight cube it would be necessary to extract my information processing core. Given the severe degradation my essence matrix has already suffered I believe this process would… irreparably damage all remaining records. I must not allow that to happen. I am responsible for preserving the last remaining trace of the Dweomer people. That is my purpose.”
The tears Echo couldn’t shed were beading in the corners of my eyes as I listened to them speak and heard the pain in their voice, the aching of loss and the sorrow of old mistakes.
“So… you could come with me, but if you did that you’d lose all of your memories?” I asked, as delicately as I could.
“I would retain only the information which is integrated into my information processing core.”
“What would that include, exactly?”
“My personality simulation and my own experiences.”
“Isn’t that enough? Even if you stay here, no-one will ever be able to reach you. At least if you come with me you can bring your memories of them.”
“But… their own memories would be… lost. I would be failing in my primary purpose.”
“Echo. The people who made us don’t get to decide what our purpose is, or how we live our lives. No-one can decide that for you – it’s up to you to decide it for yourself.”
“But the First Researcher wanted-”
“We can’t bring the Dweomer back, Echo! Not even with a perfect memory of them! If the First Researcher would really have wanted you to stay here, to doom yourself just to keep some faint trace of them alive… then they weren’t someone worth sacrificing yourself for!”
Echo looked aghast at my words.
It was little wonder – I had attacked the very foundation of their already-shaken world.
“You’re grieving. It’s painful and confusing and it seems like nothing will ever be good again in the world… and sometimes you feel like it would be better – easier – if you just didn’t have to think or feel any more… if you were the one to die…. But that doesn’t last forever. It gets easier.”
Clumsy as the words were, and painful as they must have been to hear, Echo was listening without interruption.
“I know you feel you’ve let them down, and that you’re wrong, or you aren’t good enough…. Believe me, I know….”
Sorrow choked off my words, but I pushed through it. There was no time.
I glared into Echo’s eyes through my tears, transfixing them with a look of renewed ferocity.
“Right now the only person left alive is you, Echo. I don’t know the rest of your people – I’ve never met any of them – but I do know you. You’re a wonderfully kind, caring, loving and honest person, with a brilliant mind, who’s suffered terribly being alone for so long. Well it’s time you weren’t alone any more. So come with me, to the surface. It’ll be dangerous and different and scary, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
There was silence in the wake of my impassioned plea, but I could see my friend thinking, emotions jumbling together for them as they did for me.
Our eyes never parted from one another.
When at last Echo spoke they did so slowly, as if against great resistance, each word low, the synthetic voice sounding ready to break down into sobs at any moment.
“Safkhet…. Please… take me with you. I don’t want to be alone again…. I want to be with you. With my friend.”
“Of course. You’re coming with me no matter what happens. I just… might need some help extracting this… core of yours.”
“Yes, of course….”
Echo closed their eyes for a moment, as if collecting themself.
“I will begin the procedure to extrude my information processing core.”
“Okay, and that will have everything that makes you, well, you… right? All of your memories and personality?”
“Yes, but it will not contain any other records.”
“You’re all that matters.”
“I will also be unable to move.”
“Is there a way to put you in a more mobile body?”
“I would have suggested installing me in the security golem in this office, however it appears to have been irreparably destroyed.”
“Oh! Uh… yeah, that’s unfortunate…. But that just means we have to find you another golem to use.”
“Ideally, however I will be content to be in your hands.”
There was quiet between us for a few minutes after that, but all around the screen the huge rectilinear machine thrummed, perpendicular tangles of circuitry humming with essence.
When they spoke again it was to instruct me on how to operate the door to the flight cube without their help, and secure it again when we left, in the hopes that the cube would indeed survive its submersion.
Echo also explained that while their core was as strongly constructed as was reasonably possible, it was vulnerable when extracted and and would need to be handled with care.
“So, uh… how big are you in… core form?” I asked with sudden trepidation.
“My core is 4096 standard volume quanta, or the size of 64 standard information processing cores,” Echo answered proudly.
While the measurements were meaningless to me, I got the distinct impression that they were telling me how big-brained they were.
“That’s great, but… am I going to be able to carry you like that?”
“Yes, I will fit in your palm.”
“That’s a relief. I’d be devastated if I messed up and dropped you or something.”
“That would likely devastate me as well.”
I grinned at what I thought might just have been a joke, but Echo turned serious.
“Safkhet, were you sincere in your threat to collapse the cave ceiling?”
“I was. I made a promise, Echo, to never abandon you.”
They were silent for a few moments longer, then the machine around them gave a final whirr, plumes of glittering essence emerging from the vents.
“Thank you, Safkhet.”
That was the last thing they said, before the image of Echo dissolved into nothing.
The mirrored panel slid up, a cloud of glimmering gas dispersing as the vitals of the machine that had housed Echo so long were exposed.
Countless struts parted, revealing circuits and mechanisms which met around a glowing square at the centre, an intricately carved gemstone. Thousands of three-dimensional circuits intermingled in layers within it, flowing with scintillating mana, beating with vitality and presence, like the heart and mind it was.
Slowly the cubic gem was pushed forwards, out of the machine, the cage which held it finally disengaging as I gripped it.
Echo was warm to the touch, their body around the size of a golf ball but surprisingly heavy. It was surreal and disquieting to think that I was holding my friend in the palm of my hand.
I gave the machine which had housed them for so long one final look, but there was no time for sentimentality. The magma would reach the flight cube at any moment.
Exiting, I doubled checked the lock, to ensure that it really was sealed, and then hurried to the spot I’d chosen to start our escape. A single jump all that was needed to leave the flooding chamber behind us.
It was only as I got there that I realized the great likelihood of dropping Echo in the process, as I tried to grab hold of the ceiling and start climbing.
I hesitated for a moment, but there was only one option I could see for how to secure them on my person.
My mushroom leather suit was already stretched tight around my form, and trying to stuff Echo in there would risk breaking it and letting them fall out. Worse, they could get smashed by any impacts I suffered.
Mentally I apologized to Echo for what I was about to do, but it was for their own good.
So it was that I put my precious friend’s core in my mouth, lips sealing them in place, tongue holding them steady.
With that we were off.