Dysphoria- Permanence

by Terra Whiteman

  We sent the Feelers down first. Genzophi and I were last to jump. He muttered something about Teleram, and then he, too, was gone. I hadn’t heart what he’d said exactly, as I was too focused on a notification from grid.

  Adon had fallen into stasis.

  O

  FLUX PERPETUA, IV

  (SENTIMENTS)

  Cassima Shard—;

  “CASSIMA,” SAID A VOICE, BARELY AUDIBLE.

  I’d been in deep stasis and mistook the voice as part of a dream. I heard it again and opened my eyes, the hazy lenses of slumber still framing my vision.

  Mia knelt next to my bed, careful of the console wires connected to my limbs. At first I only stared at her in confusion, but as reality sank in, I remembered that she’d been in the examination room, and then of the talk we’d had there.

  Karr must have released her. What time was it? Everyone else was still asleep in their own beds; rows of consoles flickered green as their stasis continued to cycle.

  Mia said my name a third time, assuming I was still disoriented. I murmured something incoherent. “Are we trying again?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “When?”

  I squinted at the time on the console. “Two hours. Have you rested at all?”

  Mia shook her head. “I can’t. I’m…”

  I sat up then, noticing her disarray.

  “I’m frightened. Cassima, I’m so scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “That voice,” she said. “It’s real. And, what if—?”

  “You really need to rest. I already told you it would be alright.”

  “But it won’t!” she exclaimed, and I shh’d her but that made no difference.

  Unable to think of anything else, I wrapped her in my arms. “Come, rest here.”

  She went rigid in my arms, but relented with a sigh. My eyes roamed the dark residential quarter. Luckily no one had heard us. If Mia appeared unstable, the researchers would postpone the recalibration—perhaps indefinitely. I couldn’t allow anyone to see her like this. I’d have to find a way to calm her; make her rest.

  So I laid there with her, telling her in whisper of all the places we would go and see after our enmeshment, and reminding her that we were engines. We were made for this. The Novitiates counted on us.

  Eventually Mia fell into stasis, though being not at her own bed she would lose the benefits of cyclical succumbence. Being what we were, a lot of rest was required. Deep rest. The consoles monitored our sleep cycles and kept us nearly unconscious.

  But any rest was better than no rest for Mia. My only concern was that it wouldn’t be enough for the recalibration.

  In that case, I would just have to shoulder her portion.

  XIX

  SACRIFICE

  Cassima Shard—;

  THE FIFTH HALL WAS THE ONE THAT NEARLY ended me.

  I collapsed against the wall only six paces from the exit, sliding down it and onto the floor. Dozens of mangled carapaces slowly turned to athanasian in a trail all the way back to the entrance. I’d traded the architect’s carapace for Regalis Adon’s in the second hall. He’d proved more powerful, but barely.

  I no longer had a right arm, torn clean from the shoulder. We didn’t bleed, but there was a lot of pain. I felt something hanging from my face but didn’t dare investigate. Instead I sat against the wall, wincing and panting until channeling enough strength to get back on my feet.

  We were not violent beings. None of the bodies here—including my own—had ever fought a day in their existence until now. It was amazing how much our script gave to us; the survival instincts turned us into murderous beasts, like midcivvers. The program shaped us into anything it desired in a matter of a simple order.

  But not for much longer.

  I set my jaw, and with the one arm pulled myself to stand. The alarms had ceased. I lost count of how many of us I’d killed. Victory was in sight, but it was now an empty one.

  I limped toward the exit gate. If another hallway presented itself, I was most certainly dead. Just as I reached it, the light swirling around it faded. It went inactive.

  “No,” I whispered, sweeping my hand through the empty frame. Only wall on the other side.

  And then something moved behind me. I turned, watching a Feeler emerge from a gate near the entrance. I took a step back as it drifted toward me, but there was nowhere left to go. My shoulder blades hit the wall.

  Halfway down the hall, it stopped and stared at me with an expressionless gaze. It was gaunt, with a long neck encased in black wiring and spindly limbs. It wore a simple white robe; its face markings swirled patterns in an animated glow. Its resonance was familiar.

  “Kima,” I breathed, pleaded. I was in no condition to fight a Feeler, least of all one that held the resonance of my dearest friend. “Open the gate. Let me save you. Free you.”

  It did nothing, only studied me. It twitched several times within the subsequent moments of silence. And then it turned and slowly knelt, bowing its head to expose the base of its neck. I hesitated, watching it unwrap the wiring and reveal smooth, pale skin.

  Take me, I heard its voice in my head, a scratchy whisper. Brother, take me.

  Relief and gratitude flooded through me then, making my lids heavy and my legs tremble. Kima recognized me. He knew what I was trying to do.

  I approached him with my arm outstretched, a finger poised for his neck.

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  As the tarnished carapace of Regalis Adon collapsed and joined his ranks, my new, stronger carapace rose from its knees, and the light at the exit gate returned.

  ***

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  About three minutes ago I’d woken in a dark maze of tunnel systems filled with rubble. My head and shoulders ached, my visor was damaged, one of my eyes was welted shut, and every time I took a breath, something rattled.

  On the plus side, judging by the chorus of panicked conversations in my head, none of us were dead yet.

  Adrial had thrown me over his shoulder as he and the others darted through the pitch-black labyrinth. All the jostling made me nauseous. He realized that I was awake and swiftly put me down. We retreated to a sectioned-off corner of the tunnel system to collect our wits.

  The ruin on the peaks was (or had been) a landing port for airships. The midciv dwelling was apparently in the mountains itself. That fact came to me as my vision adjusted to the darkness and I saw outlines of dead computerized stations and decaying wall décor. Contrary to what we’d thought, this world probably had always been cold. Taking shelter in a mountain was one way to keep your balls from freezing.

  I had no idea why I was thinking about this right now.

  I removed my visor and started feeling around the floor for something to regenerate with. Some of the damage done to me was by Alpha-Insipians, so it would take a lot longer to heal. Just my luck.

  Yahweh winced at the sight of my face. “Are you alright?”

  “I’ll live. What happened?”

  “Adrial blew up the deck,” said Zira. He looked nearly as bad as me, crouched at the corner of the tunnel, peering out into the recesses.

  “Not much else I could do,” muttered Adrial. “Leid, do you feel them?”

  “No, not yet. Soon, I’m sure. We didn’t get all of them.”

  “We have to keep moving,” urged Aela. “If we keep ahead of them, we might find a way out of here.”

  “No,” I said, trying to stand. Eventually Yahweh helped me and I swallowed the humiliation of needing aid of any form. “Facing them out in the open is a death sentence. Those bald-things will wipe the floor with us.”

  “So then your suggestion is…?” asked Pariah.

  Adrial and I shared a knowing look. “Stealth,” he said. We’d had more than enough training for it in the Jury. It was evident that the Framers, albeit powerful, were not well-versed in combat. Up until now they’d had other races kill their targets for them.

  S
o we would treat them like code violators.

  We would show them everything we’d learned in order to survive the Multiverse.

  “Down that way,” ordered Leid, already onboard. “Spread out along the tunnel.”

  Everyone unleashed their scythes and moved into position. Yahweh shot me a look as we parted ways at the fork. “Brain apoptosis saves the day once more,” he chided.

  I smirked, and it hurt my face. “Yeah, but keep your distance once this starts to heat up. I don’t know how well it works just yet.”

  “Noted.”

  As soon as Leid announced the Framers were in the building, the orchestra started in my head again. Fucking perfect.

  Now that our battle had a blaring theme song, I had to rely on my barely-functioning visor. Their outlines flickered in and out of vision, the dent having slightly dislodged the shard from the frame. I had neither the hands nor time to fix it. It looked as if they hopped several feet at a time down the tunnel system.

  There were ten of them. Three bald-things and seven Regals.

  Leid was shielding our resonance. The first nine passed me and I simply watched. Sarine was among them—fourth in the line—and I was slightly disappointed she wasn’t at the end.

  The last Framer walked into view.

  Yahweh, Aela and myself emerged from our hiding places with one, synchronized step, slicing our victims’ throats. We’d stepped back into the darkness long before the thud of their bodies hitting the ground alerted their comrades.

  Two Regals and one bald-thing down.

  As they realized what was happening and moved away from our side of the wall, Adrial and Zira stepped out behind them and claimed another two.

  Now there were five.

  Pariah and Leid appeared at the beginning and fork of the tunnel, blocking their path at both ends. She’d dropped the shield, which let the Framers know that they were surrounded.

  The rest of us emerged as well, scythes bared.

  XX

  CASCADE OF SORROW, I

  Cassima Shard—;

  THE GATE LED TO A SPRAWLING ANTECHAMBER. My eyes rose in awe at the limitlessness of it all. I couldn’t tell the shape or dimensions of the place, as the walls and ceiling spanned until cold darkness swallowed them whole.

  Welcome, Engine.

  The greeting invaded my mind, the voice soft and tonal. It was like a song. Not at all what I was expecting after the carnage I’d endured.

  Unsure of how to respond, I didn’t; only stood there.

  Flecks of light rose around the floor like technicolor embers. Like tiny stars, drifting off into the ether. Was this the heart of the program? Were there no operators here? No architects?

  Where was I?

  A halo formed around my feet and illuminated a path in a series of rings, trailing off into the darkness. I followed, albeit with caution.

  The walk was long, the path never seeming to end. As soon as I caught up to all the rings, more sprouted. Time was immeasurable here; I may have walked for a cycle, maybe ten. I hoped not ten.

  I began to run until exhaustion hit and I fell on all fours in a burst of candescent ground. Whispers through the darkness pervaded my mind, some sounding like they were right behind me, others far off in the distance. As if it—whatever it was—sensed my waning hope, the ground shifted and a square indention carved itself around me. More blue light spilled from the fractures; it was so intense that I shielded my eyes.

  And then I sank.

  The severed floor drifted down into an underlayer resembling the inside of a geode. The athanasian crystal that comprised the walls shimmered in reflection of non-existent light, harmonizing with the basewave in a series of soft chimes.

  The dimensions of this space were visible; only as large as a typical hosted aperture. The square floor of the previous layer erupted into fractals upon making contact with the new floor.

  There was no gate here.

  Confusion and fear coalesced, yet soon fizzled out as a small portion of the floor at the center of the room—only several paces from me—receded and an object emerged.

  It was… a console? The design was old, Novitiate, the base connected to the crystalline ground by folds of twisted, gnarled flesh.

  Despite my better judgment I approached the console, having no other option at this point. A crude screen ran lines of script at a speed that made reading any of it impossible. The flesh layers pulsated with life; blood vessels wriggled beneath the folds and snaked across the floor in a network of familiar silver and blue threads. I followed them as they created a source of light, in contrast to the walls. And then I saw it.

  Them.

  The athanasian layer of the walls were actually paper-thin. Compacted behind them were carapaces—hundreds, thousands, the depth was impossible to calculate—of Feelers that were neither alive nor dead. Their eyes were open but behind them was a vacancy I’d recognized from victims of my own. The threads perforated the walls and wrapped themselves around their bodies like a luminescent net, some woven directly through them.

  I turned in place, distraught. In every direction, the scenery was the same. Here was the eventual fate of all Framers: feeding the machine.

  The why of it alluded me. I couldn’t fathom the motivations of something capable of this. It didn’t feel the same as back then; whatever had begun this dark dream had moved on and we were left simply with a program gone awry.

  The console flashed again, which cued me to look. The screen went dark for just an instant, before a single line appeared.

  RECALIBRATE ENMESHMENT. Y/N?

  Yes.

  RECALIBRATION PROCESS INITIATED.

  …

  Another object erected behind me: an enmeshment totem from the orbital station. How long had these walls been waiting for someone to come and finish the process? Instead the program had thrown Feeler after Feeler down here, forcing us to cannibalize ourselves to perpetuate the immortality of a long-dead sentience, keeping its dream and guidelines alive for no reason except that we were lost in an undertow.

  Tragic. It was nearly impossible to bear this knowledge.

  I didn’t know how long I stood there, numb, trying to process this. It wasn’t until the totem came alit with sparks that I remembered why I was there, and what I had to do.

  I backed into it as protruding threads wrapped my arms and legs like tentacles, puncturing the flesh of my carapace, replacing my script with its own. It only hurt for a moment.

  APHORIC ENGINE NUMBER TWO; ENMESHMENT CALIBRATION SEQUENCE ACTIVATED.

  PROGRAM COMMANDS?

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, relieving both myself and the rest of us to universal uncertainty. As it should be. At least our fate would truly be ours.

  Terminate synchronization program.

  ***

  Regalis Sarine-376—;

  Two Feelers and three Regals left.

  Despite the odds, we still had a good chance of overpowering the enemy. Genzophi was clearly terrified—and angry, mostly at me since I’d agreed to push forward. I felt bittersweet about his fear. He had been among those who’d berated me with questions about my true death. Now faced with the same threat, he was far less curious.

  The surviving Feelers were stationed on either side of us. We activated our razor cages, finding whatever shield Leid had placed in effect to be gone. They would keep us protected for now, but at any moment they might flicker out if Leid saw fit to resurrect the shield.

  She stared at me, and I at her, wordlessly finding some sort of common ground. She understood that even though I didn’t agree with the Codemaker’s Law, I was bound by it and had to oblige both the law and those who’d exacted the charge of their vengeful superior whom, back then, hadn’t known Cassima and his dark revelation.

  In turn, I understood that being here made me fair game, and though I’d been courteous enough to warn them of our reckoning, that did not exempt me from any consequences.

  Those were our variables.r />
  The game was matched.

  We’d done well on both of our parts.

  Just as the inevitable was about to occur, surely taking with it many lives, all of us were jolted by white-hot shocks that shot from the back of our heads, all the way down to the base of our necks. My visuals were erased; grid became a blank screen, save for a scrolling line of script:

 

 

 

  WELCOME, APHORIC ENGINE NUMBER ONE.

  O

  FLUX PERPETUA, V

  (RECALIBRATION)

  Mia Shard—;

  I KEPT MY HEAD DOWN, AVOIDING GAZES FROM THE OTHERS AS we took our first nourishment. I was not hungry but ate anyway, if nothing else than to keep the researchers’ attention off of me. Several of them stood by the entrance to our living quarters, whispering and murmuring to each other. Karr stood between them, keeping his stare fixed in my direction. My senses prickled while our handler’s eyes burned a hole through the back of my head. The researchers were wondering if I was well enough to go ahead with the calibration, and Karr wasn’t certain.

  My gaze rested on the panoramic viewing window of the orbital station as it drifted over the north latitude of our inky, cloud-blotched world. I chewed my food slowly, mechanically, tasting nothing but salt and fat, things that the tongue senses. Dread moved in steady waves across my chest, cinching my airways. I kept chewing and swallowing.