“Welcome back, sir, I hope your meeting went well,” Vila said. I opened my eyes in the relative darkness of my room and looked around slowly, trying to readjust to real sight. Moving from the clarity and precision of incarnated spaces to this was jarring, to say the least.

“Run a disinfection cycle, Vila,” I instructed. I couldn’t shake this feeling of being filthy.

“The last cycle ran fifty-six minutes ago, sir; you are well within sanitation standards…”

“Run the cycle,” I repeated, unable to keep the annoyance from my tone.

“Of course. I apologize, sir!” Vila spoke worriedly. My rig began to churn as the sounds of the cleaning attachment kicked in. A slot opened in the machine above my chest, and a small spout protruded and pointed at me before beginning to spray. A delicate-looking gossamer shroud flowed over my head first and moved to cover the rest of my body. Once the shroud covered me completely, it began to glow with sterile white light. I closed my eyes and waited. My body tingled lightly for a few minutes as the tiny machines within the shroud picked me over and scoured my body.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you, sir, but you’ve received new messages while you’ve been away,” Vila said cautiously.

“Maria told me she sent details for some new off-the-record task,” I said. "I’ll go over it sometime later…” I’d had my fill of Ms. Caligo for the time being.

“No sir, this is from ersatz three and four. They’re convinced that the target has been located.”

“Already?” I said, just barely fighting the urge to sit up in surprise. “How did they find one Orgiastic so quickly down there?”

“Well… The report suggests that it isn’t a single target, sir.” Vila said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Connect me to three and four. Now.” I ordered.

“Right away, sir,” Vila answered. I closed my eyes as they went dark and was drawn into a new incarnated space. I sat in a large rotating black chair atop a raised circular platform. Lining the outside of the platform were dark wooden tables that formed a complete circle around me. There were dozens of empty chairs around the table to accommodate any size meeting. The space only stretched a few feet from the table before fading into a fuzzy gray void.

Several displays materialized before me, including large and detailed three-dimensional models of some pieces of the lower city. Several points of interest were highlighted and scrawled with notes. Three and four had been busy while I was away. They hadn’t had to look far from the coordinates we were given by Trevelli to find signs of what we were hunting. As I reviewed the report, it became painfully clear that we had been denied critical information.

“Did you get our report, boss?” a voice asked behind me. I turned the chair to see two men who looked exactly like me sitting at the table below. Three and four had finally arrived.

“Are you sure all this is accurate?” I asked. I made a short, waving gesture at the displays, which caused them to move between Three, Four, and I.

“Unfortunately,” said four. “I think it’s a proper cyst at this point. The entire habitation segment is infected.”

“Why would they wait so long to bring us in for this?” Three asked.

“The reason doesn’t matter anymore. We have a bigger problem now. It’s our job to deal with this. We’ll send the D.I.C.E to gut Trevelli and its subsidiaries later.” I promised.

“We are going to need more than ersatz for this.” Four said.

“I don’t know. Bring in one and two, and we might clear this cyst on our own,” three offered.

“No. We’re not being given a choice here. It has to be a proper Incarnum.” I said.

“Who are we going to send?” Four asked. “Kearn?”

“I’d rather not leave this to chance,” I said.

“You can’t be serious.” Three muttered in disbelief.

“He has to be let off the leash at some point,” I explained.

“Not when we’re staring down an infection like this. There’s too much at stake!” Four spoke as his voice raised and his temper flared.

“We have no way to know the condition of everyone inside that hab boss. There could be uninfected civilians taking shelter. Sending Isbrand alone is just going to put them in more danger!” Three implored me.

Three and four were right; I could see it plainly in their words. This was the benefit of using an ersatz. Breaking off a piece of your psyche and letting it operate autonomously offered a new perspective when it mattered most. However, it didn’t help if one was determined to make an insane decision.

“I never said I was sending him alone,” I countered.

“And who do you think you’re going to get to work with him?” Four asked, incredulous.

“There’s only one person I can trust to incarnate with Isbrand,” I stated. “Myself.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Four shouted now, sticking an accusatory finger in my direction.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Technically, I’m well within my own mind,” I said.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Four roared. “I go down with you if this goes badly! We all do!”

“Then we all know the stakes,” I said.

“Boss. We’re with you, you know that. But this is a big risk. Do we really need to do it like this?” Three asked.

I pondered the question silently, looking up into the darkness over my head. Why did I need to do this? The civilians were a part of it. I couldn’t just let them go without trying, could I? The simple solution was staring me in the face. Purge the entire habitation section down to the last iota of Orgias taint. It was quick, clean, and guaranteed the infection wouldn’t spread. It was the easy way.

“I’m bringing back one and two to join us. We reintegrate and incarnate alongside Isbrand to keep him in line.” I declared. Four released a long, defeated sigh and hung his face in his hands. Three nodded but could not hide the trepidation from his face.

“Finish your reports and log them to Vila. I’ll send the summons to one and two now. I expect they’ll be ready within hours. We’ll meet in the garage and launch Isbrand from there.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” Three asked.

“I’ll go and see Jakob, run him through Isbrand’s last in-action footage, and see if he has any suggestions before we make our play,” I said.

“He’s going to call you insane, too,” Four interjected.

“Knowing Jakob, that would be the least of my problems,” I said earnestly. You have your orders. Let’s stop wasting time.”

Three and four stood from their seats and left without another word. They turned and walked out into the gray static void around us. I closed my eyes and disconnected from the space. Vila was waiting for me back in my room.

“Welcome back again, sir. I’ve sent your orders to one and two and readied a request to meet with Mr. Jakob,” she informed me.

“Good. I’ll be compiling Isbrand’s footage while we wait for Jakob. Don’t bother me for anything of less importance,” I said, settling back against my rig and reaching out mentally for the needed files.

“Of course, sir, please let me know if I can help,” Vila said.

“Not for this, Vila. You’re better left out of it.” I responded.

“If you’re sure,” she said, trying to mask the concern in her voice.

“I am. Thank you, Vila.”

“You’re welcome, Elias.”

I waited a few moments before viewing the footage to ensure Vila was disconnected. It was better to spare her from seeing certain aspects of my work for D.I.C.E. The fewer people subjected to the things I’ve seen, the better. She’d never have to thank me for it, but it was a small gift she deserved for all her hard work.

I poured over every minute of the recordings from Isbrand. I’d only ever used him in situations that were a lost cause with little chance of capturing the Impulsate alive. He had seen action twice since his creation. It took me a month of deliberation and several meetings with Maria to decide if I could maintain his presence within my psyche. I’m not sure I had the choice back then or now. One cannot cut away the flaws in one’s own soul. I opened the recording of the last time Isbrand had been in action. It was nearly incomprehensible viewing it through the screen. Isbrand’s mind cared little for detail and good memory. I let out a small sigh and closed my eyes, incarnating inside the recording space for a better view.

The target was an Indolent, a particularly loathsome Impulsate becoming more common daily. It doesn’t take much for a person to succumb to the call of inaction. When they reach a certain point, they break. The degenerative rot inside them blooms, and a new Impulsate is born; they become a twisted expression of their unsatisfied desires. The lethargy around an Indolent is so oppressive that it can glaciate its surroundings. Isbrand walked down a narrow hallway filled with floating crystals of ice. Pipes had burst from the low temperature, and icicles dangled from the walls and ceiling like gnashing fangs. I stopped the recording and changed my view, stepping out from Isbrand’s body and looking around the hallway. He had been entirely alone that day. The office block where the Indolent was nesting had been evacuated when the incident began. The civilians made it out frostbitten but alive. I turned to look at Isbrand; this was about evaluating his effectiveness in the operation.

Isbrand loomed in the hallway, nearly tall enough to scrape the ceiling with its shoulders. The metallic frame of his body was oriented forward and low to the ground, allowing him to walk on four of his six limbs. The extremities he used for locomotion terminated in three clawed digits, one facing back and two to the front. The last two limbs were attached to his back and were much more slender than the other four. Each of those two limbs ended in a hand with five digits. There was no proper head on Isbrand’s frame. In its place was a prismatic dome of glass that glowed red from the center. The dome seemed to turn and pivot as the light danced inside, a clear sign that Isbrand was scanning the surrounding area.

The hulking metal Incarnum moved past me with a grace and precision that belied his indelicate body. I watched as he neared the end of the hall and began to scan over a door more stricken with frost than all the others. I moved to follow, stopped by a tremendous crashing peel of sound and force as Isbrand ripped through the door and part of the wall in a single blow. A wave of freezing air escaped from the room Isbrand had broken into; this was obviously the Indolent’s nest. I paused the recording again, stepping through the wall and into the nest. The space had once been a processing unit; the remains of many rows of cramped rigs were apparent even beneath the layers of ice. Hundreds of people could have spent years-long shifts connected to a more extensive processing hivemind rented to whoever could afford it. If you aren’t suited for more complex tasks, this is where you end up. Before the advent of shift limits, these office spaces were notorious for spawning all manner of Impulsates, especially Indolents.

In the far corner of the room was a horrific sight. The Indolent was huddled on the ground in a fetal position. Whatever it had been before was gone. Its black and brown mottled skin was pulled tight against its bones. Bursting out from its chest and intertwined with pieces of its mummified flesh was a separate torso of light blue ice. The Indolent was pulling itself out of the remains of its old body, climbing a pillar of ice that had formed above it. A hollow alcove near the top of the pillar looked just big enough for someone to curl themselves inside and sleep.

I let the recording play and watched Isbrand work. He tore through the room headlong, crashing through the frozen equipment, scattering it to icy ruin. The Indolent turned to face him, raising an icy hand in what looked to be a plea for mercy. It was still in the early stages of its gestation and lacked defenses beyond the cold. That would not save it from Isbrand. A metal-clawed hand clamped down around the Indolent, ripping it from the floor like a weed. The Indolent made a sound like warping and cracking ice as it screamed in pain. Isbrand’s only answer was to slam it down onto the floor several times, grinding it ruthlessly with each blow. As the strange, otherworldly cries of the Indolent died, Isbrand raised his hand one last time. He held an oval object made of blackened and cracked ice. The red light of his ‘eye’ scanned over the object. When the scan finished, he tucked the object into his slender back limbs and turned to leave the office.

I stopped the footage there and walked over to Isbrand. I recalled this moment well. He would not have spared the Indolent’s core if I hadn’t monitored everything directly during the operation. I had felt his desire that day—the need to unmake something.

This was the shame I carried in my heart.

Not that Isbrand existed.

But that I loved it.