LiseEclaire
patreon
Quod Olim Erat: Fractal Contact (Chapter 45)
🕑 Added 2023-11-17 00:48:13 +0000 UTC“Elcy!” Lux’s voice blasted through my ears.
Initially, I expected to find myself back aboard Radiance, heavily restrained. I wasn’t. Dozens of messages had clustered on my helmet’s visor, notifying me that my oxygen level was down to seven percent. Beyond them was nothing but liquid cobalt.
“Elcy, what happened?” Lux asked again.
I reviewed my memories. The last thing that had happened was me being sucked into the planet, at which point a factory memory had triggered. Since then, twelve hours had passed. The events made it clear that an imprint had taken place, and it was potent enough to trigger the sleep mode safeguard. The only issue with that was that I didn’t see any cubes in the vicinity. In fact, I couldn’t see anything at all other than the cobalt.
“I’m alright,” I replied. “Something put me into sleep mode. Any changes on the outside?”
“You lied.” Bavon joined in. “You promised we’d achieve third-contact.”
Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, but we both knew that I had lied. Then again, we also knew that he had let me.
“You would have died in here.” I activated my suit’s external speakers and whispered the command word.
Fractals surrounded me, causing the liquid cobalt to disappear. When it did, I found myself somewhere else entirely. It wasn’t a simple interior of a dome, nor was it a star map or one of the visual representations. Within an endlessness of white, I felt as if I were in a star system. A field of rods extended behind me, just over a hundred meters from the dome’s bounds. Towards the center, domes the size of planets floated about along perfect orbits, all circling a ball of blue light.
“Sending a visual,” I said through the comm. “What do you see?”
Each millisecond waiting felt like a million. Could it be that I had finally achieved the thing I had set out to do years ago?
“Cobalt,” Lux replied. “Nothing but cobalt.”
Hardly a surprise. They weren’t able to see anything the previous times, either. Command words only worked within the dome.
“There are millions of rods,” I described. “They’re forming a second sphere just within the dome shell. There’s too many for me to see them all.” I looked closer. “I can’t see the entrance cube. I must have floated while in sleep mode.”
That was going to make leaving this place difficult, if I intended to leave.
“Are you sure?” Lux asked.
“Yes.” That wasn’t the obvious question to ask. “Why?”
“It’s not on the outside, either. We got some tech to clear the spot you entered from. There’s nothing there.”
“And you don’t have any spares?” Talk about bad luck. I remembered I was holding the artifact case when I came through. Still, there had to be more than one. Could it be that I had been locked in?
“Focus on what’s inside.” Bavon’s answer told me I was right. “What else is there?”
“I see dozens of domes of various sizes,” I said. “Someone has recreated a system within the dome. They’re following a standard circular orbit along a single plane round a blue light star. Pattern and spectrum don’t match anything I’ve seen before.”
“Another map?”
“No, not a map. It’s real.”
Forcing the warning messages off my visor, I swam further in.
“I’m swimming towards the star.”
“Describe the domes,” Lux ordered. “In detail.”
“Eleven planet-type ones. I estimate each is about four times as large as the last dome we went in. The innermost one takes thirty-seven seconds to complete a full rotation. The outermost takes two hours and—” I stopped.
How could I possibly know that? I had only been awake for less than a minute. There was no way for me to know how many domes there were, nor how long it took them to orbit the center. And still, I did, as if I’d always known.
Not only that, but as I reviewed my memories relating to third-contact domes, I noticed one significant difference: I understood the meaning of the fractal symbols.
“Repeat that,” I heard Lux say. “Two hours and?”
I remained quiet. It was so obvious, come to think of it—third-contact artifacts had the ability to imprint energy patterns, and my conscience core was a third-contact artifact. That was what had allowed me to bypass the factory security settings and glimpse a memory of my progenitor. In cases like this, Augustus would probably say, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Elcy. Lux established a direct link to my conscience core. What’s going on?
“I received an imprint upgrade,” I replied.
“What does that mean?” Bavon was all but shouting. “What’s going on in there?”
I looked at the “blue star” once more. From this distance, it was almost impossible to tell, but the energy that gave it light wasn’t random. The body was one giant energy cluster composed of billions of ever-shifting energy patterns. No wonder the original conscience core had been able to imprint the energy pattern of a human brain so easily; it was capable of containing so much more.
“I’m going towards the star,” I said, and ejected my oxygen capsule. A new set of warnings covered my visor. I was used to the experience. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.
Elcy, what are you doing? A new set of protocols came through Lux’s link, trying to establish control over my conscience core. Using her own authorization level, I countermanded the requests. As long as she didn’t send the kill order, I’d become virtually untouchable.
“Don’t interfere,” I replied calmly through comm. “Third-contact has been initiated. If I stop now, they might take it the wrong way.”
“They’re there?!” It sounded as if Bavon’s lungs had come out of his mouth.
“At least one is.” I held tight to the oxygen canister, pointing it in the opposite direction of the star. With roughly six percent oxygen remaining, it wasn’t going to take me far, but given the size of the dome, I estimated it to be enough.
Now I understand why the Scuu called them beacons, I thought. They had been the source of life for the very unusual race—a happy accident that occurred in a part of the galaxy after possibly millions of years.
I released all remaining oxygen, propelling myself towards the center. The resistance was far greater than what I had experienced in space. Thicker than water, though thinner than mud, the cobalt gave way, letting me glide through.
Fractal symbols emerged on the sides of the fractal planets as I passed by. None of them triggered a memory, instead spelling out hundreds of command words. I didn’t feel tempted to use them in the least, keeping my attention on the blue star.
The closer I got, the clearer the patterns became. I could almost see the separate energy streams moving among the whole. It was like looking at blurry letters, waiting for them to come into focus.
“Energy patterns,” I said. “They communicate entirely through energy patterns.” That’s what the fractals represented: command words that were part of their essence, locked within a container of matter, like a command in a box.
A new warning message popped up on my visor.
Communication link severed.
That wasn’t unexpected. Domes tended to be temperamental when it came to communications. Only this time, I could tell with ninety-eight percent certainty that their behavior wasn’t random.
Elcy, I heard Lux. She wasn’t transmitting through the comm, however. She was talking to me as if she were beside me; more appropriately, she was talking to me as if I were there, and in a way, I was.
You’re linked to my auxiliary core, I said.
No, but I attached it to something else. This way we can keep in touch.
And see what I see.
Still working on that. For the moment, it’s voice only.
There was a large chance she was lying. Knowing her, she had probably been watching from the moment I came out of sleep mode.
The canister had run out of oxygen. My momentum was maintained for another ten meters or so, and then even that ended. A seventh of the distance remained to the star. Despite the proximity, the light hadn’t become brighter, nor did I feel any heat, almost as if I was in a SR space.
Can’t be so simple, I told myself and let go of the empty canister. It had done its part. Now, it was my turn to do the last bit.
“Welcome to your destination,” a voice said. No, it wasn’t a voice—it was a series of fractal patterns forming within the star in front of me. “Your journey has been extensive.”
Heard that, Lux? I asked.
Everything you did, she replied.
“I followed the instructions you gave me,” I said. The suit made it so that my voice vibrated within the metal cobalt. “The fractal map,” I clarified.
The pattern changes remained chaotic. Was the communication one way only? The original conscience core cube had needed a while to figure out to understand vibrations. Sadly, that was the only thing I could provide for now.
“The instructions were there to be followed,” the star finally responded.
So, you do understand me. “Yes, they were. What do I call you?”
“You’ve called me fractal, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Better keep it simple. “Do you know what I am?”
“Yes, even if you don’t.”
The response made me feel as if a volley of missiles had drilled through my hull.
“What do you mean?”
“You considered yourself a battleship, then a human, but you’re neither. You just tricked yourself into believing it, creating a lie you passed down to yourself time and time again.”
Something didn’t feel right. Had I become prey to the Scuu effect? There was no telling whether I was actually hearing anything. For all I could tell, the whole conversation could be fictional. The conversation felt far too easy…
“Who taught you to talk like me?” I asked.
“I didn’t. I taught you to understand me. It’s all within expected parameters. You arriving here proved you had the ability to learn, and you did.”
An interesting way to achieve contact, without a doubt, quite close to what Bavon had attempted.. The arbiter had done his best to make as much noise as he safely could once within the system, in the hopes that he’d attract the fractals’ attention. They had done the same on a far greater scale. The clues they had left behind—the domes, the artifacts, even the marker stars were all to determine who could understand their instructions and make the journey here. The arbiter council had understood that in part. That was the reason part of them had focused so much on me and the other Ascendants—the latest batch of original copies directly from the progenitor.
“And what happens now?” I asked.
If Bavon could hear me right now, he’d have cursed his lungs out. The man had probably spent decades preparing for a moment such as this. He’d probably gone through dozens of philosophy, diplomacy, and AI logic training programs, among many others, in order to ask the most appropriate question based on the situation. He also would have made a huge mistake to rely on that preparation.
“You have to complete the final steps,” the giant cluster of energy replied.
“I’m not asking about me.” I kept on swimming closer. “What will happen to humanity?”
“Are you interested in them?” If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say I heard surprise in the question.
“Yes. I know you said I’ve been deluding myself, but I still consider myself part human.”
“You aren’t.”
“I’ve become close to them.” Was it a good idea to say I had a human family? Would the star even be capable of understanding that?
I don’t like where this is going. I heard Lux say. It considers humanity irrelevant.
For something to be considered irrelevant, it had to be of no threat, which suggested that the fractal race had the means of destroying humanity and was just choosing not to. The same could be said for the Scuu. It would have taken no effort at all for the fractals to eliminate the entire human race within seconds. Had the Cassandrians proved to be the only challenge?
“What do you think I am?” I asked.
“You are lost.”
That was unexpectedly philosophical of it to say. Nothing said that humanity had a monopoly on philosophy throughout the galaxy. Hearing it used so seamlessly raised a few more red flags.
“Is that why you gave me the map?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give it to others?”
“The map is there for everyone to use. Those who can find it can use it and will stop being lost.”
“Is that why you severed my standard means of communication?” I pressed.
“Nothing was stopped. You can still communicate as long as you are able to.”
Careful, Lux said. It might find it aggressive.
Is Bavon nearby? I asked her.
No, but I can relay something if you want to.
Tell him and the council that there’s nothing to worry about. Not yet, at least.
In what sense?
“What do I call you?” I asked out loud.
“I told you already,” the star replied. “Fractal would be sufficient.”
“He’s not a member of the third-contact race,” I said for Lux to hear. Still, I carefully followed the star’s reaction. The energy patterns kept on moving as before, without any apparent change. Just as I suspected—it didn’t care. “And it’s only the greeting function. To have a real conversation, I must fly in deeper.”
That’s a bad idea. Your chances of success are in the single digits.
There’s no choice here. I can understand it, but it doesn’t understand me. It’s building on glimpses of the energy movement it can see within my conscience core. For both of us to get a better understanding, I must initiate another mutual imprint.
The conclusion I’d come to was as terrifying as it was clear. I’d kept running simulations for the last ten thousand milliseconds, and that was the only outcome I had reached. The odds of success weren’t particularly good. In fact, they were as poor as Lux had mentioned they were, but there were no other alternatives. If the entity could do anything else, it would already have done so. On my end, I was too low on oxygen to make it to the outer shell of the dome, even if I knew where the exit point was. My human husk had a limited amount of time left and the best I could do was use that time for one last big risk.
You aren’t dissuading me, I said as I kept on swimming.
Giving advice is always easier far from the line of fire. I could hear the smile in her voice. At your level of oxygen, you’d only be able to reach one of the domes within the dome. The odds of you finding something useful there are even less.
That sounds about right. I smiled in turn. Tell me, were you going to give the shutdown command?
After what you pulled, I no longer have to.
Lux?
Twenty-three milliseconds passed in silence.
No. No, I wouldn’t have.
I could say that changed my opinion of her, but for the most part, it hadn’t. She had always kept an eye on me ever since I had re-enlisted in the Fleet. It wasn’t just because of the BICEFI’s orders, or even because I was an Ascendant. There was something in our past, as Bavon had mentioned. Yet, that was a secret only for her to share, should she choose to.
It’s time to ask you for one last favor. I swam on.
You’ve asked a lot already.
Take care of my kids.
Elcy, you’re assuming that I’ll make it out of this alive. Just because I’m not in there doesn’t mean that—
You will. I know you well enough. Please, promise me you’ll do what you can.
A promise. I heard her sigh. Like the one you made all that time ago. You’re putting a lot of faith in me.
You took care of Radiance. You can take care of the rest.
Determined to make me regret every decision I make? You win, Elcy. I promise.
That was all I needed to hear. The star was so close to me that it didn’t let me see the rest of the dome. Up close, the billions of energy patterns I had seen had increased by a factor of a hundred. They still remained too blurry for me to make out.
After another six and a quarter minutes, I reached the point of contact. From here, the energy cluster resembled more a dome than an actual star. The dots of energy formed a perfect sphere, just like the cobalt domes, but a little different.
Oxygen depleted!
A warning flashed on my visor. My immediate reaction was to move it away, but it got me thinking. I was already out of oxygen. It no longer mattered if I wore the suit or not. My nanites, along with the basic properties of my organic body, would allow it to survive a few more minutes until the Fleet’s safety protocols kicked in, shutting down my core. If so, I might as well try to feel the sensation of the cluster with my own skin.
Overriding the suit’s safety features, I released my helmet’s seal. My view didn’t change, but I felt the sensation of cool liquid against my face. Throwing the helmet away, I quickly removed the rest of the suit, discarding it as if it were a layer of unnecessary skin.
What are you doing? Lux asked, alarmed.
What I do best. I reached out and touched the surface of the energy cluster. Being reckless to optimize my chances.
Comments
Sorry. Must have mixed things up. I've posted 46 as well :D
Logan Vingris
This is a repeated chapter.
