“The Goddess invited you to her sanctuary.”

Damon wasn’t too sure how to answer that. It was a truth that the voice through the speaker had invited him into the lower levels of the tower. In English, apparently, a language no other on this planet spoke. Or so they insisted. He was still trying to work through the fact that he was stepping into the glass tower that was held aloft on a massive plane of… metal? That had to be at least a dozen kilometers wide. All of it is held in place by golden metal arches over some mountain peaks between other mountains. A plane of metal that was kept warm by pumping unbelievable amounts of hot water through it.

And the one that was supposedly responsible for the impossible feat of engineering had invited him into a place the locals revered.

No pressure.

“Seems so.” He glanced around, having stepped into the tower, noticing the veritable horde of faces aimed directly at him. “I think we shouldn’t stick around.” He took a step, and only Idina followed. Looking over his shoulder at the two users, Damon scowled behind the mask. “What?”

“Are… you sure we are allowed?”

Han’s voice was carefully diplomatic, a far cry from the boisterous man from that morning.

“Voice said so.”

They both shared glances, gulped heavily, and nodded. It was easy to see how the hymns of everyone around them were reaching out to the duo, because they kept flinching and looking around at people who Damon was hastily walking past.

“Lots of important people here.” Sybil whispered under her breath. “They’re going to have questions.”

“No less than me, I bet.”

The duo had very quickly moved ahead of Damon, guiding him forward while clearly using their hymns to announce their presence. Because every damn head in the room bolted and jumped out of the way well before they approached. And all eyes were upon them.

Damon was thankful he was wearing the cape and mask. There was a faint glimmer of hope that this attention wouldn’t follow him everywhere.

The doors to the ‘sanctuary’ were large gunmetal blue, and without a single knight in sight. Instead, there were things that were far FAR worse than any knight in armor. Four robots sat at either side, shaped like some sort of wolf, except they were the size of a Humvee. Bodies coated in dark green metal with what were clearly guns or cannons attached to their heads and shoulders.

All eight robots had their lifeless glass glowing red eyes fixed on the group.

“Are these authorized entities, Administrator Damon?”

The voice rang threateningly, the guns moving and aiming at the three others.

“Yes!” He quickly declared. “These three are coming with me.”

“Acknowledged.”

The guns on the robots whirled and pointed upwards.

The metal doors slid open without a sound. Han, Sybil, and Idina let out a collective sigh. Damon could only gulp and step forward, leading the group through the doors. They closed behind them just as silently.

“I hope you’re ready.” Han muttered. “When you come out, people will have many questions.” As soon as the artificial blue lights sprang into life. Before them was a long corridor sloping downwards and curving slightly to the left.

“Yeah, not looking forward to that.” Damon mumbled.

Next to him, Sybil nodded, still carrying the large backpack she’d brought from the house. “The guardians let us through…” The words came out of her in a whisper, there was a reverence and awe to her words as she looked at Damon once more.

The human quickly turned at Idina. She was standing close, hands clenching her shirt and looking pale as a sheet. “We’re going to meet the Goddess.” She swallowed, glancing at him with wide eyes that had a lot of the same emotions Sybil’s had.

Han was the first to react. “Let us not disrespect the Goddess. Damon, the mask…”

“Right.” Not sure what to expect, he at least thought better than to keep the mask and cape on. Sybil did much the same with her cowl and hood.

Thus, their descent began. It didn’t take long before they reached another door, with two ‘guardians’ that didn’t react to their presence, the doors opening to a large… room of some sort. The four walked in quietly and looked around, entirely unsure as to what they were looking at.

It was a… warehouse? There were rows upon rows of shelves, with boxes upon boxes within each. All placed in rows upon rows of more shelves. It was hard to see how far things went, with the shelves being four meters apart, and no less than ten or so stories high. There were robots moving between the shelves, connected to either side by rods, and using the shelves themselves as tracks to move horizontally or vertically.

The metal boxes were retrieved and put down, moved away, or brought in.

“Please follow the signs, Administrator.” With the voice came a red line on the floor, lighting up and directing them deeper in. Until they reached a rather innocuous looking human sized metal door.

“What are the boxes?”

“Materials necessary for repairs.”

It too slid open. Behind it there was a dark room.

A light turned on, illuminating the only object within: a chair that seemed fitting for a dentist’s office.

“What… is this?”

“The Administrator’s Thalaring port. Connection to the axon is necessary. Software corruption was detected.”

Damon’s hand reached up to touch the back of his head, and he swallowed heavily. A feeling of dread ran up and down his spine.

“Can it wait?”

There was a delay before the voice spoke up. “It is advised, but not mandatory, Administrator.”

Damon quickly glanced at the others. “She’s telling me she wants to connect to my axon. Thoughts?”

The way Sybil looked at him reminded Damon of the drill segregant when someone had asked a stupid question. Han was right along those very same lines, though more shocked than anything else. Idina was the only one that hesitated at the proclamation, swallowing hard and looking at the chair before glancing at Damon.

“If you think it’s what you should do, sir…?”

“It’s creepy as fuck, though.” He commented, feeling chills when looking at the gray metal chair. But he grimaced, nodding. “Though I don’t think there’s much of an alternative to be had.”

Walking forward, he reached for the center of the room and slowly sat down.

“Initiating review procedure.” The voice spoke. “Please remain still.”

There was a sudden jolt in the back of his head.

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The world went dark.

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

Damon opened his eyes. The world around him shimmered, his eyes tried to focus, but everything remained blurry.

“Calibrating.”

The voice was full of static, and it was followed by a soft chime. The world sharpened around him, and Damon saw more than felt that he was inside a room that was some combination between a garage and a hospital room. There were people there, floating, unconscious, lined one next to the other and being held invisibly in space. At least forty of them, each grouped by gender and species.

There were no walls, no roof either, only a cement gray floor that extended on and blurred, becoming dark and just straight up ceased to exist a couple dozen meters further off.

“Welcome to my workshop, Administrator.”

It was a disembodied voice that spoke.

“Where…?” Damon glanced around quickly, feeling a mild disorientation from the sudden movement. The sensation of motion didn’t quite match with his movements, it caused a mild dizziness. “And the others?”

“This is a simulation within digital space. You are still within the thalaring port chair.”

The words were accompanied by an image of Damon laying on the chair, while Sybil, Han, and Idina were apparently very distressed.

“They are being informed of the situation.” The voice continued.

Damon looked around again, frowning. “What is this, then? Other people in the digital space?” His skin felt wrong, his hands tried reaching out to touch, but there was no sensation to be had. As if he were disembodied or in a strange dream.

“They are users undergoing bio-metal supplementation. Their minds are disconnected from their bodies to avoid calibration errors and trauma.” There was a slight sigh. “Are you not familiar with the process?”

Damon frowned, realizing he hadn’t blinked so far and trying to ignore that. “No? I was not conscious when they forced the axon on me.” He pointed at the back of his head.

This time there was a shimmer. A form appeared. It wasn’t definite, with no distinguishing features, but definitely humanoid. Its skin was made of strands of smoke, black and diffuse, impossible to pin down into a singular shape. The figure, nearly twice his height, leaned to look at Damon through a face that was devoid of features.

“But you are a full user.” She replied. “Your body has all the creation markers. You were created at a Janus Entry point.”

The voice spoke through the synthetic female voice. The shadows blew away to reveal long black hair and pale golden skin, a body that was much like a doll’s in that it had the curves that would’ve hinted at female anatomy, but it was all smoothed out and undefined. Its face is still devoid of any features save the hair that floated around the head as if underwater.

He laughed slightly. “You mean transported. Some sort of gate or teleporter, right?”

“No, the Park does not possess such technology.”

“Maybe it was-.”

“Your body has markers.”

The doll leaned closer, reaching out with a hand and showing it was holding… something. Damon’s gaze was drawn down to the featureless palm. “That’s me?”

“Yes, it is a full body scan that was made for quality control purposes before you were deployed.”

The image shifted, the body having the skin, muscles, and organs removed, reducing it to a skeleton.

It zoomed into the bone on his arm, focusing on the humerus. As it got closer, the image zoomed further and further, until it became a porous maze of holes and white scaffolding. The image sharpened, and there, Damon saw something that should not have been there.

Letters and numbers.

Printed out on nearly every other part.

“psUpSScotJX46gb.”

The letters were in no strange dialect or language. English letters and numbers, clear as day. “Wha-.”

The image zoomed out, shifting to the bones on his skull, zooming in, faster this time, showing the same web of hollow connection points, and the same string of characters. Another, now on his ribs. Again. Then his vertebra, the same. His hips, his legs, his fingers.

Damon’s eyes kept going wider, and wider.

“No, this, I… this can’t be possible.” He commented, swallowing hard, he got the distinct sensation of ants crawling under his skin. “My memories are real, I’m not some creation!”

“Your memories are certainly real, but your body and brain were fabricated no more than one hundred twelve days ago.” The image vanished, the golden doll looking at him through hollow empty indentations that should have housed eyes but were empty. “You are not the first.”

“What… what do you mean not the first.” The space around him was empty, but he felt trapped, locked, tightly bound. “What’s… what’s going on, what is this, explain yourself!”

“It is part of the original functionality the Park had.” She answered. “Using the Network Array, a copy of the user’s mind would be downloaded and implanted onto a manufactured body. The user would then experience the Park, and leave through a reverse process, uploading the memories for the original body to absorb.”

There was a pause, the doll-like creature’s shoulders slumped marginally. “The Park ceased to function due to the catastrophe over twenty millenia ago, but Users have been emerging sporadically out of the Janus Entry points that were still functional. All cases have been from malfunctions, copies of users that had been left in the system’s cache. But… you are the first to have emerged with administrative rights. An oddity, as the process would have required the Network Array to issue the key.”

“You’re… you’re saying I’m just some… some sort of flesh doll with the memories of some dude named Damon!?” He’d tried to shout, and yet his voice came out no different than if he’d spoken it softly.

His head whipped around, his hands trying to reach for anything to grasp at, bones itching and crawling. “Get me out.”

“But-.”

“OUT!”

One blink, he was on the chair, he threw himself to the side, his stomach felt like it turned itself inside out. The contents of that morning’s breakfast were emptied. The world felt solid under him, but it was spinning, fast.

Hands touched his back, words, concern, worry. Another voice, the one that used the speakers quietened them. And Damon had his minute of world shaking panic roll through him like a storm.

“Breathe.”

It was Sybil, speaking softly as she gripped his shoulder.

Faintly, he nodded, taking long gulps of air, accepting an offered cup of water to drink down the bile that crawled up his throat. He breathed, fast, but working his way down, slowing.

He wanted to scream, but there was no air to spare for his voice, lungs kept burning and begging for more.

But eventually it settled, and with it his urge to claw at the door and run.

He wasn’t real.

His memories weren’t real.

A copy.

“Administrator Damon.” Raising his gaze, Damon met the concerned eyes of Sybil, but quickly focused on the speakers on the opposite wall within the room. “Forcefully decoupling like that will-.”

“I don’t care.” He swallowed more air, mind trying to grasp anything to focus on.

His eyes fell back to Sybil.

She was looking at him in concern, eyes that were pools of hazel. He knew there was more than just concern for him, she was worried about the ‘goddess’, about his… no, he couldn’t hold her gaze, he closed his eyes and tried to stabilize his head. There were too many things swirling around his head, a tornado that was going out of control.

Damon was reminded of when Sybil had told him about the grafts for the first time. The deep sense of… wrongness. The unease he still felt when looking at her prosthetic legs, even as the feeling had subsided, he… His bones itched, his fingers brushed against the metal thing on the back of his skull.

Warm fingers pulled his touch away.

Looking up, it was Han. “That’s not going to do you any good.”

“I guess not.” His admittance was a reluctant one, hands tightening into fists and put at his sides where they couldn’t do anything to his skin.

He could tell all three were burning with the question of what had happened, of why he was like this. And it wasn’t like he could lie to them either, he doubted he could even attempt to pretend to shrug it off let alone do so convincingly.

“I want to go.”

“It would be best you do not leave until you’ve been informed fully of the situation.” The voice spoke through the speakers.

His lips thinned. “I don’t care.”

“As administrator, user and guest safety is part of your responsibilities and duties.”

“I do not care.” He repeated, glaring. “I’m not even sure why I’m an administrator. The… the last thing I remember before coming here was living in a world that didn’t even have spaceships! I don’t fucking know how I ended up here!”

“It is lamentable, but unimportant.” The computer-generated voice pressed on. “Unless you are declaring the wellbeing of yourself and your companions is also irrelevant to you.” That was a cold jolt down his spine, suddenly the three others had stopped looking at him and instead focused on the speakers. The so-called-Goddess continued. “Your Axon registered an Apocalypse event. The Janus entry point detected a technology killer: nanomachines.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

The following moment of silence felt as if the digital creature were quietly sighing. “An axon, if violently destroyed, will likely kill or cripple the individual it is integrated with. Nanomachines would do exactly that. Under the proper conditions, they could spread on their own and annihilate millions of my babies.”

Unsaid went that he was part of that list of potential victims.

Damon’s lips twisted into a grimace as suddenly Idina, Sybil, and Han were looking at him again. As much as his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil, he couldn’t just… His shoulders slumped, exhausted in a way he’d never felt before.

Apparently, the AI took that as a sign for her to explain further. “To start, you need to kill the Southern Mountain dragon.”

“No.” His words rung hollow even inside his chest, standing up to turn away.

No one stopped him on his way out.