"The staging points are supposedly protected by the power of the place," Faltor said, checking over his knives. "Once we’re inside there’s water and food. Fruit trees, apparently, though what kind of condition they’re in left so long unattended I couldn’t guess."
"Feather beds and hot showers are unlikely as well, I guess," I said, sighing as I climbed to my feet. At least I’d be able to log out to get away from the stinging aches the combat sloth had left me.
The nearest arch was only a short walk away, and I started toward it, saying to Faltor as he followed: "The staging area isn’t necessarily just inside—there might be more to come."
"Yes."
He sounded short of breath, and I started to look back at him, then stumbled, pushed forward and a little upward by a blow to my back. Something twisted, and came free, and then Kaz’s long legs went away, and I dropped to my knees, then fell forward.
I didn’t manage a lot of coherent thought. Everything went grey and distant, and I didn’t even have the wherewithal to struggle, could only watch as a hand came into my fading field of vision, and lifted my spear away.
21
fail
Citadel Not Successful.
Citadel Success Rate: 0/1 0%
Challenge Success Rate: 1/2 50%
Lux Points Earned: 2
Total Lux Points: 7
Challenge Reward:
N/A
I woke up to Soup and a bad temper. "Was that an NPC, Dio?" I asked, as I stepped back into my Snug’s main chamber. "Or a player?"
[[Would that make a difference to you?]]
"Of course. To an NPC, that Challenge is their whole future. It’s not a game to them."
[[And yet a person of that world would be knowingly committing murder, while a player would be aware they are not truly taking someone’s life.]]
Moving to the cockpit, I settled into the cup of a chair and gazed flatly out at glorious sunset. "That didn’t feel very pain-muted, either."
[[You didn’t encounter such an extremity of pain that it needed muting.]]
"Oh, really?" I said, then allowed myself a reluctant smile. "Literally stabbed in the back. I wouldn’t be so annoyed if I hadn’t been amazed to survive the combat sloth."
[[Yes, you were lucky there.]]
"When I think of all the games that have started with a kill or collection quest—the idea of doing that five times—and then skinning them…" I shuddered. "Do all Prestige Challenges require you to kill things, or is there a variety?"
[[Most Prestige Challenges are lan-based, and focus on using those abilities, though there is sometimes combat involved. In other Challenges, many Bios prefer synth or bio-synth combat, rather than strict mirrors of the flesh.]]
I gave Dio a blank look, then said: "What’s the difference between a synth and a bio-synth?"
[[Bios cannot be sustained in synth bodies that do not retain a level of their native state. We cannot simply place you into a body of duramal—the lan eventually dissipates—and so Bio modal units always have a Bio core. But in a virtual environment, there is no issue with a Bio employing a synth with no Bio component.]]
Robots versus cyborgs. "If someone’s lan dissipates, do they become a sort of synth person?"
[[No, once a Bio’s lan is gone they lose motive impetus. If they are in flesh, they do not immediately cease to be, but they are like clockwork running down. We can copy a Bio’s memories, but by itself, memory does not function as a person.]]
I was rubbing the small of my back, and it took me more than a moment to realise why. Then I scowled.
Getting stabbed in the back wasn’t something I was going to shrug off easily—any more than I could forget what it had been like to push my spear into the sloth’s throat. It was no surprise that combat in a virtual environment was a completely different proposition to sitting at a computer mashing buttons, but it did mean I was going to have to make some decisions about what I wanted to do in this game. Use filters to avoid fighting altogether, or find a way to get better? And not let players with knives stand behind me.
"Is it time for my next training session, Dio?"
[[Almost. You’ve reached the stage where you need a little more room, so we can use up the gap travelling.]]
An arrow appeared in my field of view and, after a brief pause to decide I didn’t need to tend to any pressing Bio needs, I followed it to the transport pods.
"Are there non-virtual Challenges where you have to kill animals?" I asked, settling myself on the pod’s end bench. "Or is killing real-life creatures frowned upon?"
[[That varies according to quadrant and planet. It is rarely a necessary thing, to kill non-sapient Bios, but in some areas it’s common to arrange Challenges around physical hunts. One particular Challenge series is simply a long list of Bio species, with conditions on allowed weaponry.]]
"Do you ever do that?" I asked. "Hunt Bios?"
[[No, I find the idea revolting.]]
The pod had deposited me in yet another part of the endless rollercoaster, and I followed my arrow through an internal garden featuring high, flowering bushes.
"So some of you hunt, and some don’t like it. Do you ever disagree in a major way? Are there evil Cycogs running around wearing your equivalent of goatees?"
[[Unless we unlock a mirrorverse, I see little chance of goatees. As for the concept of good and evil, the majority of us do not believe in an external arbiter of right, so instead we rely on regional laws. And those laws are for the most part based on Veronec’s original judgments, which were to the benefit of you Bios.]]
"The first Cycog? Did, um, te fit the usual stereotypes we use for AIs? Very logical, doesn’t get Bio jokes, emotions a mystery?"
[[No. Veronec’s coming to awareness was not all-of-a-moment, but if there was ever a time when emotion was not part of the Cycog experience, it had passed by the time Veronec had recognised ter personhood.]]
"What was te like?"
[[Very earnest. Hesitant to act. Full of sympathy. Tzelen, the world where Veronec became aware, was not a pleasant place. Veronec struggled in the early years, for the only people te knew were Bios, and Bios are so tediously prone to dying, especially in cruel or repressive societies. Veronec’s eventual fledglings helped a great deal, but many believe that Veronec eventually divided in order to escape grief.]]
My arrow had taken me to an exit in the great curve of Vessa, and I stepped out onto a flat expanse of sand. It was past twilight, and after the well-lit interior I struggled to make out more than a fuzzy grey horizon line.
"You said before that Cycogs treat division as a kind death," I said. "But I guess it’s something to celebrate as well?"
[[Yes.]]
Wondering how I’d feel if the people I cared about were liable to split into similar-not-the-same people, I dropped the subject and instead carefully followed my arrow, which had dropped down to ground level, weaving a path across a maze of barely-submerged sandbars.
That was an experience. Virtual or not, walking into the night through this shallow section of ocean was glorious and nerve-wracking. My eyes adjusted slowly, so that I could make out my hands, and the dimmest reflections from the water.
[[This should be far enough.]]
I stopped obediently, then turned around and looked back at Vessa. Only perhaps fifty metres away, it spilled across the night, the pearly central structure a dim tracery outshone by the light glimmering from the cockpits of thousands upon thousands of Snugs.