Dysphoria: Rise (Hymn of the Multiverse 6)

by Terra Whiteman

  “What are you doing?” I asked them.

  “Trying to get some backstory,” said Zira, checking dials and wiring below the panel.

  “You’ll never get a strong enough circuit that way,” I said. “The interference from the climate won’t let you, even if the wiring wasn’t too far gone.”

  Zira cast me an irritated glance from over his shoulder. “Cynicism isn’t welcome here.”

  “He’s right,” said Sapphire. “There’s no way to get this back up.”

  “I’ll take the DSD and we can extract it at Enigmus.” Zira felt around for something across the control panel.

  “DSD?” I repeated, confused.

  “Data storage system,” said Zira, his expression relaying duh.

  I held out my hand. “Give it to me, I’ll do it.”

  Zira stared; it was his turn to be confused. “Do what?”

  “Extract it.”

  Sapphire smiled with revelation. Zira recalled my memories and smirked, tossing me the device. I caught it with a single hand and closed my eyes, getting a feel for its wave-pattern.

  “He is going to prove so useful,” I heard Sapphire tell Zira.

  The Altrians were clever enough to have tapped into logic pool data storage systems. The systems themselves were weak but well-preserved due to gravitational waves and the high-conducing EM field of the planet. I dumped everything not corrupted into attica, translating it from Altrian logic-pool coding to the prose of our conscious stream. There was enough information to keep us busy for several hours, which was probably how long it’d take for the air to cool off anyway.

  *

  It’d all begun with some kind of probe, apparently.

  Altrians were aspiring spacefarers, though they hadn’t quite reached the level of technology capable of sending spacecraft out of their solar system, aside from non-sentient robots. They’d detected a foreign signal emitting low-wave frequencies between Niaphalis VIII and VII, and recovered what they believed to be a probe sending and receiving information, though its source was unknown and there was nothing further communicated on the subject.

  Sapphire pointed us to research findings announced by their version of astrophysicists several years prior, relaying that the Aregoni Void had grown larger within the last decade.

  Zira sidelined to the cosmological map surrounding their solar system. “Well, that answers that.”

  He was alluding to the fact that what they had called a void was actually not a void at all, but a cluster of galaxies occupied by the Ahahim Collective. To Altrian telescopes, nothing was seen because the Ahahim was an upper-echelon civilization, using all the energy of its stars, therefore blocking any light from reaching observers.

  This system had been in their direct path of expansion; flesh and blood swallowed whole by an old machine race, the remnants of their makers stored in their sentient AI, three-fourths to immortality.

  “Bad news,” murmured Sapphire.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Ahahim tech isn’t something that deactivates easily,” she said. “There could be sentries and who knows what else still guarding portions of their cities.”

  I winced. “Sounds fun.”

  “Regardless of the risk, they’ll have something to get us to that moon,” said Zira. “Spatial transference wasn’t an Archaean-exclusive discovery.”

  Sapphire leaned on the jagged frame of the tower, surveying the ruins beyond. Heat waves swirled up from the ground as the sky was cast in blue iridescence. She sent a query for Ahahim chemical footprints in attica, requesting coordinates of the closest city. Hopefully it wouldn’t be on the other side of the world.

  “What happened to them?” I asked, clutching at debris to replenish.

  Zira shrugged. “They moved on.”

  I confirmed in attica that the Ahahim was still an active civilization, though its population and colonized worlds had shrunk over the last several millennia. The oldest universe was growing sparse for resources, even in neighboring galaxies as stellar dust dissolved with its dying stars. “I don’t suppose we can make a detour and grab a guide?”

  Zira actually laughed. “They hate us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they can’t kill us.”

  “I take it they’ve never contracted us,” I said, sighing lightly.

  “We don’t get any contracts from Avadara,” said Sapphire. “A lot of the damage done to this universe was caused by us.”

  I raised my brows.

  “Not us,” corrected Zira. “The proxies.”

  “Does anyone actually know why they wanted to destroy everything?” I asked.

  Zira and Sapphire looked at each other, saying nothing. I took that to mean no. “We should rest a few hours,” said Zira. “This heat won’t leave until late morning.”

  I wouldn’t argue; I’d been nearly cross-eyed since last night.

  Without another word, Zira and Sapphire took to the floor—Zira leaned against the wall and placed his head between his knees, Sapphire curled on her side beside my bench. Apparently I wasn’t the only one exhausted, which was relieving.

  *

  We all awoke at precisely the same time; attica had pinged a match to Sapphire’s query, jolting us from our slumber. The intensity of the outside light had faded, and the air was significantly cooler. Late morning had come and gone, the sun having shifted to the other side of the sky. Mid-afternoon, perhaps. We’d overslept.

  Zira cursed, realizing our mistake. He cursed again once we learned the closest city that attica could find was two thousand miles south. We had about eight hours before dusk, which may or may not bring another storm.

  I was still trying to wake up, running a hand through my disheveled hair and then across my face. Even though we’d overslept, it still wasn’t enough. I snatched a piece of eroded stone to replenish as the three of us regrouped at the tower entrance. Zira proposed that we run for it, stopping only when we needed to refuel. Sapphire and I agreed.

  And so we were off.

  Speeding through an unknown terrain was always risky; at our fastest we could reach the Ahahim city in an hour, but that also meant possibly launching ourselves off cliffs or running into (or more often through) objects because acceleration was inversely correlated to reaction time. We settled for a moderate speed; three hours still left us plenty of room.

  We had to break more often than usual due to depleted resources. In terms of composition, rocks lacked nutrients with their low atomic weights and uniform lattices. Harder to break down and absorb; barely worth the reward. In this half-wasteland, half-nightmare fairytale, rocks were the only things available to us.

  The scenery changed once again thirty minutes into our journey. All forms of vegetation ended and a geyser field began. Silhouettes of ruins could be seen in the distance, but it was clear that most of this world was unlivable, even for the Ahahim. Here the atmosphere had thickened enough to trap excess heat. We couldn’t see the sun anymore; the sky was a pale-blue haze. Even for us it was too hot and there was no longer anything to regenerate with, but it was too late to turn back.

  “The city will have metals,” panted Sapphire, trying to keep us hopeful. Even Zira looked worried, and he never looked worried. I couldn’t help but revere Sapphire for her stoic bravery. It was decided then that she was my aspiration.

  Neither Zira nor I responded, but we acknowledged her encouragement and soldiered on.

  It took closer to four hours to reach the city. We whirred through the fractured perimeter gate and dove inside the closest structure. The shade offered us a temperature a few kelvins lower. We came to a halt in varying presentations of exhaustion. Zira was on all-fours, retching from exposure. I didn’t look much better. Sapphire logged our arrival into attica.

  With all the talk of Ahahim being a top-tier civilization, the sight of their city was somewhat anticlimactic. They built upward instead of outward, its borders being a third of the diameter of the Altrian city. It consisted main
ly of cylindrical and spherical edifices without any distinction of their function. Were they residencies, or stations, or shops? Who knew? Perhaps they were none of those, because a machine race wouldn’t need the frills of an anthropoid society. In fact I couldn’t even begin to fathom a culture whose gender, personal gains and mortality were all shed like old skin.

  There weren’t any murals to marvel at here, only smooth, metallic frames and concave interiors. The entire city felt lifeless and cold, like having been constructed but never occupied, which was probably intended. The metal itself seemed to have low-conductivity and heat-resistance. When scanned, attica relayed that it was 45% feherium and the rest ibthium, an alloy that I’d never seen. This was worthy information, and I archived it.

  Rifling through information what was known of Ahahim architecture, the alloy was only used to build here. Probably to fortify their colonies from the weather; which meant they had been here sometime within the last several hundred years. That was disturbingly recent.

  “How long did you say their security technology could last?” I asked, eyeing Sapphire.

  It was clear she had come to the same deductions as me, as her expression was grave. “I didn’t say precisely.” Then, looking at Zira, she said, “A thousand years, give or take.”

  Zira returned her look, saying nothing.

  “Well, we’re certainly in for an adventure,” I said.

  In the center of the metallic floor was the indention of a circle, large enough for all three of us to stand inside. I thought it was just a strange marking, until Zira dug his fingers into it and pulled upward. He was strong enough to bend the thick sheet of alloy until it was angled 90 degrees at the radius. Not a marking. A door.

  And then it clicked; this place was so bereft because most of their city was subterranean.

  Zira gave Sapphire a nefarious grin. “Ladies first.”

  “You’re going first,” said Sapphire, frowning. “Account for your decisions.”

  He shrugged, unfazed by her stab and jumped down the hole without another word. I started next, but Sapphire grabbed my arm. “Stay behind me,” she advised. “You aren’t an adept of your senses yet.”

  “I take it you care whether I live or die?”

  Sapphire looked down the hole. “Only you.”

  I really hoped that was sarcasm, but you could never tell with her.

  ~*~

  2.2-4.18-S ATTICA wave sequence Bs9b2

  -Machines came first. They took the entire population of Katekan underground. Investigations into the matter discovered large holes around the city perimeter. Not a single person was left.

  -Efforts to open the holes, covered by strange metallic seals proved fruitless. Diagnostics of the metal was taken to the central city to be analyzed.

  - Then everyone started getting sick, and Katekan was forgotten.

  Language: ALTRIAN (egosymsi dialect)

  Personal Recording 234581-2

  Source: Rehgonatta Medical Hub Transmission

  XV

  RESOUND

  Yahweh Telei—;

  I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE ASTOUNDED when Leid’s hands had completely regenerated by the time I saw her later that morning. Instead I’d grown used to these types of surprises, only pausing briefly from my Altrian and Ahahim research when she entered the Apothecary, lingering in the doorway, as if waiting to be welcomed inside.

  My eyes settled on her healed, un-bandaged hands and I said, coolly, “You seem better.”

  She took that as an invitation and sat at the other end of the desk. Nothing was said for half a minute, until I cocked my head and lifted a brow. “Can I… assist you with anything?”

  Her gaze lowered briefly. “You were right.”

  “About what?” And, with a tiny smile I added, “Also, which time?”

  Surprisingly, Leid returned the smile. I hadn’t seen her wear one like that for a long time. “I shouldn’t have kept anything from you. I’m sorry. This was all my fault.”

  “It wasn’t all your fault,” I said, sympathetic. “We agreed to go, just like you.”

  She lit a cigarette, and I twitched in irritation. Leid’s cigarettes were not malay, but a foul-smelling, cough-inducing type from Earthen worlds. Although my expression was evident, Leid ignored me and continued to pollute my place of business.

  “Will you be honest with me now, then?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I left my research and opened up the Framer/Hunter thread. Leid felt the switch; her eyes narrowed as she realized what I was planning to do. She didn’t object, however, as she also knew that any and all information she was about to give me would be valuable to us in one way or another. “Would you like to be the editor, or should I?”

  “Go ahead. You deserve the credit.”

  I nodded, sat back, and waited.

  Leid hesitated, sucking on her cigarette. “For the record, I haven’t talked about this until now because it was neither relevant nor did I feel like burdening anyone with phenomena that I couldn’t explain, let alone describe in a comprehensible way.”

  “Burdening us?” I asked. “By making us aware of a situation we could have helped you to better understand?”

  “I don’t want to be an outlier anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to be the cause of your concern.”

  I was taken aback by that confession. She looked away as her façade cracked. “You’re not an outlier,” I said, carefully. “You’re our Queen, before that my advisor, and before that, my friend. You’re not in control of anything happening right now, so don’t blame yourself.”

  “Leid, you need to let everything go,” said Adrial, appearing in the room. I thanked him with my eyes for the backup. “Stop holding it all in. That type of defense mechanism has never helped our situation.”

  “We’re all here for you,” I said with newfound courage. “We don’t see what you’ve become, only you. It’s always been you.”

  The Apothecary went silent. Leid lowered her head, shifting uncomfortably. Our attention remained on her, awaiting a response, reaction, anything.

  “I get it,” she murmured, finally. “I’m sorry.”

  That was all we could expect from her.

  Adrial moved behind Leid’s chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek against it, closing her eyes. “Don’t apologize, just let us help you.”

  *

  It took Leid upwards of twenty minutes to explain everything. Not all of it was coherent, especially the part about seeing electric butterflies everywhere, and I found myself glancing at my supply cabinet to make sure there weren’t any hallucinogens missing.

  She explained the cyclic nightmares that had led up to her touching the thread on the gorge, the visions she’d seen of the massacre at the ruins through the eyes of a mysterious victim, and the crushing anxiety from coming to terms with the notion that she was connected to whatever the Framers were.

  “They have him,” she said, her voice quivering. “They have him and will question him about me.”

  “Qaira won’t give you up,” assured Adrial.

  “Of course he won’t,” she snapped. “They’ll realize after many brutal, lengthy torture sessions that he won’t ever talk, and then they’ll kill him.” Leid crossed a leg and lit another cigarette, evidently distressed. “These things have been hunting us and others like us for who-the-fuck-knows how long. They’ll come for the rest of us eventually.”

  “Which begs the question why they haven’t found us prior,” said Adrial.

  Leid only shook her head.

  “Zira and the others are making progress on their mission,” I said. “There’s a very strong chance we’ll find answers to our questions soon. Right now we can’t do anything except for wait. No information, no plan.”

  “Qaira could be dead at any moment,” said Leid.

  That was true, and I could empathize with her frustration of feeling so helpless. Leid was not the helpless type. None of us were.

&n
bsp; Aela appeared in the doorway. All of us looked toward her.

  “It’s officially a party,” muttered Leid.

  “Come and look at this,” she said, gesturing toward the hall. “All of you, now.”

  Sensing the urgency and fear in Aela’s voice, we all moved to follow her. Confusingly she led us outside, into the courtyard. I knew what she was going to show us almost immediately. My attention rose to the sky, now presenting a visible, red sun. It was almost set, and dusk was falling over Exo’daius. The sight made me stagger.

  “Look at the grass,” urged Aela.

  It had grown past the ankle of my boots.

  “Okay,” Adrial breathed, clearly shaken. “Keep the mind-fuckery coming, then.”

  I froze, paralyzed with revelation. “It wasn’t a trap.”

  I’d said that so quietly that only Leid, stationed beside me, could hear it. “What do you mean?”

  “It was a shield,” I said, hands to my forehead, pacing along the path. “There was some kind of shield around us that manipulated time.”

  Now I had everyone’s attention. Once I’d finally gathered my thoughts, I said, “We think the thread Leid touched was some sort of trap left to alert the hunters of our presence. But now that it’s gone our realm is presenting time-affected phenomena.”

  “Like any other place,” stated Aela, reeling. “Exo’daius is a physical world with physical properties.”

  “So you’re saying Enigmus was frozen in time,” Adrial said, still trying to grasp my conveyance. “Leid broke the shield, and now we’re—”

  “Exposed,” Leid said, her expression darkening with cognizance. “That was why they couldn’t see us before. We were cloaked.”

  “By whom?”

  Leid tapped her chin. “It must have been the proxies.”

  That backed up Adrial’s notion that Oraniquitis and her ilk had crossed paths with the Framers and subsequently built defenses against them. Whether or not Framers were our genetic donors was yet to be determined.