by Vic Davis
“Old geezer, you have confused me with someone who cares about whatever it is that you are doing. I would prefer that you just make source-charges and stay out of my sight.”
The Old Alchemist chuckled in response almost as if it were talking to a new budding. “As you wish. But I would like to accompany you. I have several questions for Codex as well.”
“I care not as long as you wait your turn. Grivil! Find them.”
Even with Grivil’s aid, Voor and Codex were surprisingly difficult to locate. Grivil seemed flustered at first, blaming the strange ether, nearby source beings, and unanticipated vortices. The flow here exerted some immediate yet hard to define influence on the warp and weft of the ether. Or perhaps it was the other way around mused Grivil.
After several halts to focus its transom, Grivil finally located them perambulating away from the main henge of flow pillars. Voor’s five pilgrims hovered around an exceptionally tall column jutting up from the flow like a grasping tendril. Codex was again engaged in an argument or debate of some rigorous sort.
Voor’s lead pilgrim moved to confront them as they approached the scene of the mysterious discussions. “Please do not disturb the moment. The Codex must say its farewells; it is important that the serenity and dignity of the ritual be preserved.”
“Arguing with a flow pillar seems less than dignified,” retorted Xodd sardonically. “I grow tired of these delays Voor. We must come to some plan of action.” Xodd raised a tendril to forestall the anticipated response. “And no, I will not be patient any longer. You promise me that I will have my revenge, that our goals align, but you evade all specifics. I will not be played the fool any longer.”
“Yes, time is running out. The Codex is simply gathering information for our next move,” replied Voor’s lead pilgrim desperately.
Codex broke off its engagement with its friends. “Nonsense Voor. I am simply saying my farewells. The chances of my seeing them ever again are slim. Had I all the inputs and a reliable model I would give you a miniscule success probability. My existence since traversing the gate to this reality has been fundamentally lacking in hard data. I am not programmed— was not programmed to do such work on my own. I was a decision-making routine in a much more comprehensive heuristic structure on Disassembly Platform 13.
“I seems like just yester-standard rotation that I was making myself blissfully useful. Even later while serving the Exiles I was useful: working with Radzak’s dispersed entropic amplification project, venturing out to confront the fallings, lending my logic circuits to the latest communal computational harmonization. Ah, I miss my input colleagues. Now I am the only one who remains.”
The Librarian had communicated a brief description of what the Ancients had known of Codex’s home world; the beings, who had built the gate to answer the call, sent others instead of themselves: artificial computational slaves with exquisitely complex and potent patterns. The concept of a created artificial intelligence was incomprehensible to Xodd, lost in a definitional and experiential void. Was not all intelligence created one way or another whether cloned or in a brood pit? The entire idea was nonsensical. One could think or one could not.
A shudder of disdain washed across Xodd’s transom. What a timid race to send one’s servants, thought Xodd. Perhaps they feared this Codex and its kind; the creature could dominate the information patterns of a source being’s core, bending their will to its own. That would be extremely useful in the campaign to come. Xodd now had a Channeler and a Mesmer to aid its plans. The thought amplified the crux of its present dilemma: Xodd had no certain plans yet, only vague ambitions. That must be rectified. “Voor, I ask again. What are our plans?”
Voor seemed surprised. “Captain, I thought this was clear. You wish revenge upon your creators. I wish to see the prison retrieved from the Citadel of Instrumentality before its prisoners can complete their escape. Is that not straight forward enough?”
“Yes, but how will we do that?”
“Carefully.”
Xodd felt a growing rage that it had not known since it had recovered from its addiction to the alien source: an overwhelming urge to crush things that were not useful or constantly sought to betray it. “Carefully? That is an understatement. We have marched out here to this node in nearly the opposite direction of where we need to go.”
“Since the Great Desolation, I have witnessed the revelation of every single node in Aern,” answered Voor calmly. “I have traveled all of them as well. Although I have been assigned duties in recent eons that have restricted me to smaller confines. And thus, my conversion of source beings to the faith has been more focused than we would have liked. But no matter. I digress. We will proceed down the Pilgrim’s Road from a point within the node that harbors Urta’s Rest: the exact location of which is still undefined. But the Codex will know soon.”
Xodd was not surprised at Voor’s proposal. It had been secretly hoping that the Djenirian’s scheme would prove more inventive, even if Xodd could not conceive of any other way itself. “This is the best that you can do? The Pilgrim’s Road is not unguarded. Urta’s Rest stands athwart it like an Omega hovering in a cage. Troops will be rushing through it to support the capture of Privil’s Landing.
“We will be funneled down into a situation where we cannot sneak past our opponents or hope to beat them on the battlefield. As far as I can remember from the maps that I have seen, and I have seen the best that the council possess, these Empty Nodes have no slip points that lead to any place near it. Instrumentality itself occupies the tip of a tendril of nodes jutting out oddly from the Great Desolation. On one side are The Shards that separate it from the Reach. On this side are these Empty Nodes that have neither slip point nor resonance point to permit access to the Pilgrim’s Road.
“Therefore, to get to Urta’s Rest and the Pilgrim’s Road, we must travel to the node below Timathur’s Node and enter there. If we can continue to summon raw source during our trip through the adjoining Empty Node we will survive. Once we leave it, we will need to capture supplies on our own. That will be difficult.”
“Captain Xodd, your professed knowledge of the geography of this world is incomplete and full of disinformation,” signaled Voor with a tone on its form walls that Xodd found infuriatingly disrespectful.
“Well then, please enlighten us.”
“Certainly, captain: that which you call Aern is a geometric construct that for lack of a better symbol the Ancients called a polytope. The nodes that we traverse are—”
“Analogous to a polytope in complex space,” interrupted Codex.
Voor admitted the mistake. “Ah, yes. Well, I do not understand the math myself. Even the Codex here cannot comprehend the full structure. But what the Codex does know is that there are imaginary nodes in this complex geometric construct that connect and interact in strange and amazing ways, useful ways.”
Xodd was growing tired of the conversation. “Imaginary nodes? Get to the point. You spout fantastical irrelevancies as frequently as my parasite. I am not interested in the theory—”
“Captain Xodd,” interrupted Grivil. “You should listen more carefully. The Hidden Nodes are commonly misconstrued as those nodes which intuitively should be there on the other side of a vertex barrier but are inaccessible: no slip point, no resonance point. There would not even be a zeroth point in the interaction of the harmonics of the etheric field. But this is a layman’s interpretation and a popular misconception. Listen carefully. I think Voor is about to tell you that it can open a pathway using a Hidden Node. Such a thing is rumored to be possible according to the precepts of the Channelers.”
“Precisely so, Master Channeler Grivil,” signaled Voor quite pleased. “And once the Codex here has completed the calculations, it will attune the pillars to open the gate.”
“It’s not technically a gate,” admonished Grivil lightly. “It’s more like a variable resonance point but in a different dimensional—, well, space perhaps, domain— the symbol for the con
cept is difficult.”
“The Channeler has the right of it,” signaled the Codex. “And now we are almost ready. “Our farewells have been said and our friends will help us into the Hidden Node. I have told them where we want to go. I have not left my isolation here for a very long time, but I know its coordinates. We shall come out in the node that lies between what Voor describes as Instrumentality and Urta’s Rest.”
An idea occurred to Xodd. “Why not use this Hidden Node to go directly to Instrumentality. We could set up camp in an outlying source farm village and then plan our assault.”
“The Codex says the connections are not possible,” replied Voor. “The closest we can get in one jump is the next node past Urta’s Rest. A second connection would be hazardous beyond acceptable risk. But worry not. We will adapt once we arrive.”
“Any traversal will present great risk if the legends are true,” added The Old Alchemist, who had been listening quite intently.
The noise of the geezer’s signaling grated on Xodd, but it did not like the import of its statement. “What legends? Do you refer to one of your old manuscripts, that you make us haul around in a wagon; one that could be put to much better use.”
“There was a Master Alchemist called Xindoor the Magnificent from the precursor city states that now make up Sindari Sai. It made conjectures along the lines that have just been described. The ether there will be different. How so can only be conjectured; the majority of the forecasts were not good.”
Xodd considered itself a bold leader with little concern for its own personal safety. But callous disregard for one’s own coherence often led to the unhappy state of ending one’s aims and ambitions. That must not be allowed to happen, thought Xodd. The Old Alchemist’s legends hinted at dangers that were best known beforehand. “Is what this old geezer says true? What are the dangers of using this Hidden Node to get us closer to Instrumentality and our revenge?”
“There is no need to worry. They are merely theoretical at this point,” assured Voor.
“Hardly theoretical,” signaled Codex slightly offended. “The data set is admittedly small: a single trip. But eventually I made it through.”
Xodd grew suspicious. “Theoretical? Eventually? What does that mean?”
“Exactly that dear Captain,” replied Voor somewhat exasperated at the direction of the conversation. “There is a possibility of some disagreeable outcomes but since we have little experience with traversing a Hidden Node—”
“The data set has one point,” insisted the Codex.
“Ahem, yes. But we have never been able to confirm many of the theories. I expect that we will find an ether no more disagreeable than the Great Desolation.”
“The single data point was neither agreeable nor disagreeable” asserted the Codex.
“We will be fine,” insisted Voor, “but we will naturally need to take precautions for you and your fellow source-beings.”
Xodd could not believe what it was hearing. Voor was an odd creature to be sure, especially if it really was this “Djenirian” that the Librarian had described. The silent companions that always accompanied it were credible evidence that such was the case. But this latest bizarre flight of fantasy was too much. “You can’t be serious. I will give you credit for your trick of summoning source from the ether in this node. I would not have believed such a thing possible if I had not witnessed it myself, assisted even if one can call it that. But you now want me to risk everything on a theory? No. We will march back the way we came and then find a way down the Pilgrim’s Road.”
Voor seemed mildly disappointed. “Are you not the bold, audacious and fearsome General Xodd? We chose you for a purpose even if our choices were limited.”
The jab struck a sensitive spot. “I am Xodd. But I am not a fool. I will not risk everything on a single roll of the dice. What happens if we enter this Hidden Node and can’t find a way out? What happens if we run out of source?”
“These are valid points,” replied Voor. “But desperate times require desperate measures. And we are in such times.”
The Old Alchemist raised a withered tendril. “I have a suggestion: perhaps we should perform an experiment; send a volunteer through first? A scout.”
Codex stirred from its mumbled farewells with one of the nearby pillars. “The concept is sound. That would be an excellent and rigorous approach to this problem. However, the portal into the Hidden Node is one way. It would be difficult if not impossible to get any data back from our test subject.”
The Old Alchemist deflated a bit. “What if we attached a flow cord or rope? Then we could yank them back. I assume a gate or portal is opened up of some type. Grivil, what do you know of such things? This is your specialty is it not?”
Grivil shrugged its form walls. “I deal only with the ether. Channelers perform the calculations intuitively. We pride ourselves on our art and channeling sense. A gate from one location in the ether of a node to another would permit a cord to pass through and maintain its integrity. The issue is the duration of the gate and its stability. A standing gate is unheard of. They will last only as long as the Channeler maintains its focus; the effort is severely draining and it is dangerous to exert oneself for very long.”
Codex was quick to respond. “This portal to a Hidden Node within the polytope is altogether different in both general principle and detail. Its nature is uni-directional: once translated, information cannot return the same way. That is the theory of course. We could try your little trick with a cord. It’s clever. Such an effort cannot hurt the flow. But we run into another dilemma: namely the reactivation time. Once we open the portal, we will only have a short window. If we delay too long it will shut and we will have to wait far too long.”
Voor was adamant that they risk the portal directly. “We must not dally. We should enter and take our chances in the Hidden Node.”
“You can’t be serious,” signaled Xodd. “You want us to jump blindly into a portal, into a Hidden Node, arrive wherever and rely on this Codex to blindly guide us to safety? That seems like a poor way to start my revenge taking.”
“There is sadly no way around that. But you are Xodd, are you not? You will overcome such obstacles. We are counting on it,” replied Voor.
Voor’s wheedling bounced off Xodd’s large ego harmlessly. “You are transparent Voor. I tell you again: I am Xodd, but I am not a fool. No, we will return to Timathur and start our campaign there. I would rather fall in battle striking at the Endarchs than disappear into a mythical void.”
“We are running out of time Captain Xodd. The prisoners are stirring, and the first seal has most likely already been removed,” signaled Voor.
Codex concurred. “From what Voor has told me of this council and the resources at its disposal, I calculate the chance that they have broken the first seal at 85%. The second seal is complex but solvable. It will not be long. The third seal will break with the force of will of the Aldruathezai themselves; the catalysts which they will require, have no doubt already been groomed. They will emerge from their prison and dominate everything, consume everything.”
Xodd could not countenance their absurd fairy tales any longer and turned on Voor. “You are not some harmless eccentric Voor. You are a traitor: a madman who manipulates and deceives. I will not listen to these lies any longer. You are in league with this parasite inside me.” Xodd paused briefly as if a revelation had struck it. “Oh, now it is all clear. Malador said as much. Was it not you who supposedly freed me from the trance that this vile thing had inflicted on me? Now it all makes sense. You are manipulating me. I should crush all five of your cores.” Xodd instinctively looked around for something to use as a weapon. Why did it always forget to bring its war club? It was never around when needed. Xodd resolved to make someone like Pipper a permanent valet to see to such things.
“Calm down captain,” signaled Voor in a soothing tone. “We are all on the same side.”
The assertion flipped some switch in Xodd’s tran
som unleashing a destructive rage within its core. The scars of a lifetime of abuse as a tool for other’s aims and desires ached with a searing pain. Xodd knew that only vengeance could soothe the pain. Once again it looked around desperately for a weapon: none was apparent. Xodd’s form walls shuddered. It formed two massive, corded tendrils balling the ends into blunt fists. A surge of energy ran through Xodd; it shifted into a daunting battle form: angular plates, reinforced walls, a shimmering aura licking forth from its outer edges to form a brilliant halo above the crown of its large, still mostly ovoid shape.
Xodd hovered forward with murderous intent and then froze. The Librarian screamed in symbols with such amplitude that they reverberated throughout Xodd’s transom: “STOP! TIME OUT!” Then everything went dark.
For the longest time there was only blackness: an emptiness that surrounded Xodd’s sense of self, not just a lack of information but a claustrophobic cocoon of nothingness. Coherent thought was scrambled; it was impossible for Xodd to reckon how long this lasted. But gradually a sensation took hold, a feeling of hovering in the ether but there was no ether: drifting, falling, floating weightless.
A shape slowly came into focus: a magnificent kaleidoscopic fractal pattern; it expanded to encompass the entire horizon. It spoke: “Of all the source creatures in this pocket universe, I had to choose you. You are proving to be less than useful Xodd the Enforcer.”
“Who are you? What are you? Where am I? Is this what happens when you decohere?”
The patterns fluttered as if they found the questions amusing. “Surely you know the answer to the first two questions. As to the third, you are exactly as you were before I was forced to intervene: resting on the surface of the flow in the middle of the Empty Nodes.”
“You are the parasite. Why did this not happen before when you attached yourself to me? What is going on now?”
“I am the Librarian, unit 1444, forged in Radzak the Tremblers workshop shortly before the entropic recalibration: the Great Unmaking as it was fancied by some, the Great Desolation by most others. I am a fragment of Radzak’s greatness connected with a user interface that mimics its most beloved consort, Parthati the Tale Spinner. But most importantly, I am an insurance policy for the future. And that future is now imperiled.
