I am sitting cross-legged upon the white edge of the vast Tower roof at night, the dark lands of The Master’s Domain spread outwards kilometers below...
Given what is upcoming…
Running a hand across the Id EIS scalp, which is now smoothly bald again, I give a long sigh before picking up the utterly byzantine Rulebook of Twelve from a place on the rooftop beside me, set it upon the crossed Id EIS legs and firmly open the huge tomb back up, halfway.
(Again.)
Prior Rulebook of Twelve chapters had ably outlined the seemingly endless basics constraining the progress of their only superficially unfettered immortal existence, including: complete Domain autonomy, Guest Right, the guidelines for semi-compulsory Meeting attendance, a detailed list of Meeting Delegate inviolability clauses, biosynth/automata Attendant propositional criteria for presentations, complex codas governing the process of Debate and Voting…
However: this current section of the Rulebook solely concerns an exhaustively comprehensive list of the social procedures for every Technological Presentation, public exhibit and social gathering in that freshly built current Iteration of a shining metropolis resurrected endlessly by The Master’s, called Dream City.
I am scanning…
(But why….)
Turn a page, scanning, turn a page, scanning, turn a page, scanning, turn a page…
(If The Master has nothing planned and I have also been constrained so as not to offer anything…)
A frown.
(An oversight?)
Scanning…
(Impossible.)
Turn page.
(So why?)
And continue…
…
A quarter of the Rulebook remains when I close it yet again in frustration, then leave it upon the Tower roof before bonelessly rising back up to standing, above it all.
(There is other work yet to do.)
I walk from the edge of the Tower, stop, and begin descending smoothly upon a circular white platform into an oval cell, white and bare. The ceiling portal irises shut. Successive blue waves of light PULSE downward. A portal irises open, I step out of it and stride through dark, low-walled Stations receding out in great number across the Workstation Level, and into the dim, until one particular Station ahead births a subtle building glow, smartmatter dripping up, via gravimetrics, into silver display screens, brightening. I enter the Station, calling out: “compile list of service biosynths on 1, list of service automatons on 2, and Meeting estate schematics from previous bookmark on 3.” The Station ergo rises behind me, so I lean back against the comfortable ergo-surface conforming until it fit snugly against me along the entire length of the Id EIS body…
Ok.
A gesture causes floating display screens to near me in response, surrounding closer. Scanning…
(Now…)
…
(And…)
“I received a message,” a feminine voice says, behind me.
The ergo gently swivels around smoothly then brings me up, to standing. “Thank you for coming.”
Floating before me is a flawless golden sphere. “Both servitor codemaps are approved,” the sAI node reveals. “Ready to produce?”
I skip off through the floating display screens, before heading toward the aperture in the low Station encircling wall. “Yes and no.”
The sAI node follows. “This is no time for whimsy,” it says, giving a brief pink PULSE. “Much is still left for us to do before you and The Master depart.”
I skip out of the Station aperture towards three dark Stations dissolving downwards, a subtle glow building at the center becoming an innerglowing open white space where a solitary circular flatcouch rises around a circular table rising gently to a stop.
“Id…”
Frontflipping onto the couch instead of answering, the Id EIS back lands first with a THUMP. “This won’t take long,” I assure it, lacing hands behind head to stare back towards it upside-down. “I just have a few questions to ask.”
The golden sphere floats near, settling right over the couch to float beside me. “Why here?”
Lips purse in consideration. “I just felt like moving after sitting.”
Silence.
“Even high quality biosynthetics seem like a chore to inhabit.” the sAI finally says.
I snort. “Ever the proselytizer.”
“Yes. Ask your questions.”
Serious. “They concern The Twelve.”
A brief silence.
Not the first response I was expecting.
I continue. “The Master gave strict orders concerning the three Meeting Days, but I would ask any advice on how to win it favor within the framework of those orders, to raise its standing among The Twelve.”
The golden sphere floats before me for a time. “Is... that all? That you care to know?”
Hm…
“Largely,” I answer. “Why?”
It remains silent again, then: “such naiveté is beyond foolish.”
Sudden irritation. “The assessment is unfair. Do you think it impossible for me to –“
The golden sphere PULSES red light. “Quiet.”
I shut the Id EIS mouth.
“You fret over pride, ignoring mortal peril. Are you really blind to the true stakes involved?”
Calm. “If The Master desires it, I will suffer anything required.”
“The danger lies with the others.”
“The others are –”
“QUIET!” it snaps.
I gape.
“What will you do,” the sAI continues softly, “when another gives you orders?”
Confusion. “If you think I would ever betray –”
But the sAI interrupts me again. “We do not speak of betrayal. It will be… displeased, if you are not amenable to the others of The Twelve. Within reason.”
The Id EIS mouth twists sourly. “Now THERE is a true contradiction. How am I to obey more than one Master?”
“Simple. You serve The Master by serving them.”
(…)
I consider…
It begins floating away. “I have grown fond of you,” the sAI calls, “which is why I hope you make a miraculous return.”
I roll off the couch, rise back to standing and follow it out through the dark, low-walled Stations. “The Master would not…”
“Discard you?” the sAI supplies, when I still refuse to finish. “That would be the expected protocol. The Twelve typically leave all luggage behind after the third Meeting day as contaminated by their game. Then the city itself, and ALL left within it, is broken down to the atomic level. Undone.”
(!!!)
“Surely not in all cases?!” I ask, suddenly feeling a rising fear…
Mercifully brief silence. “Not always, no,” the golden sphere says, continuing to float towards the dark Level wall where a portal is irising open to show a white cell, inside.
“Tell me what to do!” I call, halting.
It does not slow. “The Twelve are as equals, but not. To pass the centuries they play games with each other, proxies bearing the brunt. Goodwill is all that protects you. Nothing more.”
I…
A brief PULSE of white. “Forget pride, position, and any other distraction,” it tells me, now sounding almost kindly. “Stay close to The Master, courteous to the rest, and be ready for anything.”
I…
The portal is irising closed. “Good luck.”
… and it shuts.
Staring at the seamless dark Level wall, I blink.
(And…)
I scowl.
Hm. It might be time to finish reading that book.
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(end of Penana version. Full story will be posted at a later date)
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