With the exception of the night's seismic turbulences, Irradiant had no other disturbances to witness in her first shelter visit since her pilgrimage to Approaching Sky. Waking up, she feared the worst, having eaten nothing the past Cycle forced her to sleep hungry. But she noticed to her surprise that her hunger was surprisingly low. She felt a slight urge to get her munchies, but quickly noticed that that urge originated from her former three meal days.
She… was not hungry. How quaint.
The Slugcat carefully stretched her limbs, testing every muscle to check for eventual ripped seams from her father’s sleep cycle. If she had pulled herself anything, she would be unable to notice it at all, her body feeling freshly regenerated and ready to tackle on another day.
Irradiant took a brief look around the shelter and noticed in delight, that Approaching Sky stored some equipment in there for her to utilize. An array of shaped rebars had been placed against the wall, their shape somewhat akin to Spearmaster’s needles. How considerate of him to provide her with a form she had been trained to utilize. Irradiant grabbed one of the heavy pieces of reinforced metal, quickly finding out that this spear had been laced in the same strange substance Sky’s puppet chamber consisted of, which was impervious to all her abilities.
That spear could be of great use. I should try to not lose it. If it gets stuck, I can simply melt the area around the spear and retrieve it. Thanks, Dad.~
With a new tool added to her arsenal, Irradiant stepped out of the shelter, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the next Cycle. This time, she would be more prepared for reality than last Cycle. If she would tell herself that another hundred times, she might even start to believe it, she noticed grimly. The world outside of her father’s brain was grittier than anticipated, and she nearly died due to having been way too careless.
Irradiant grabbed her spear tight and observed her surroundings for the familiar sparks of the Overseer. It should have been able to survive Dad’s sleeping state, given it was a part of him, after all. And soon, her sprouting worries were dissipated when the electric eye appeared in a safe distance from her influence, pointing with a pictogram deeper into the facility, showing her the way she should take. Irradiant nodded to her eye-buddy and after a last check of her backpack made herself on the way once again.
The path she was made to take by the Overseer led her across many pits and through long corridors filled with buzzing coils and other dangerous-looking gigantic types of machinery. Given the brief explanations of her father regarding how his body was built like, she assumed that she has now entered the source of his power, the stomach of the Iterator she called her dad. The giant towers of electricity, she cautiously walked past while trying to not get zapped by millions of volts, probably fed Approaching Sky with the ‘food’ necessary to become godlike. And the reason for them working so actively at the time told her that her father was currently working on something.
The sheer danger of this area rendered it void of any predators that could view her as a tasty snack, or so she assumed. It didn’t even cross her mind, regardless of her having encountered a spider-like being from the other Cycle with electric powers, that she might not be as alone in the Power Grid as she would have liked to be. Her senses were blinded by the crackling light, the shrill sounds of interferences and the burned smell of living metal aching under the torrent of juice. Her focus was on keeping her head low and her tail under control, trying not to touch anything.
She didn’t notice it until it was already way too late for her to react to the approaching danger. The smell sensation of burned metal passed and Irradiant was instead overwhelmed with the alarming and all-consuming stench of burnt flesh. Before Irradiant was able to react accordingly, the giant crushing claws of a red-glowing centipede wrapped themselves around her green body and attempted to crush or sever her between the tools. The Slugcat saw no other choice but to immediately overload her body with as much energy as she could fathom, drawing in the ion-oversaturated air to turn her frame into a green-glowing snack of unhealthy content. But the damage was done, and the centipede seemingly didn’t care about her display of power, snapping her body apart, watching through hungry eyes how the glowing bundle, now consisting of two separated parts instead of the healthy whole, slowly faded away and became consumable.
Irradiant’s eyes grew pale and grey as her life faded away, her last memories being the taunting translation of Far Whisper’s words that she would die many times.
But why so… soon? I am p-powerful… am I not, f-father?
“I asked for no interruption, Computer.”
Approaching Sky noticed the source of the ping, followed by the helper program’s voice claiming it as ‘crucial’. A faint wave of concern ran over his back, and the desire to swallow without a throat emerged. His own voice was telling him to drop everything.
“The Overseer I sent with Irradiant?… What is that important in the face of managing the false rumours of Gales’ collapse that you consider noteworthy? Fine, pull her on the big screen, Computer.”
The images the Overseer sent to him were disturbing at best and horrific at worst. Yet, Sky remained calm for the most part, his emotions being suppressed to only rarely be even remotely noticeable, after all.
“I understand. Computer? Prioritize pest control in the Power Grid. Irradiant will not notice her having joined the endless Cycle just yet. Keep that Centipede far away from my daughter. That area is too dangerous to cross by itself already.”
Sky sighed and closed the images of his creation, his daughter, presented in a dismembered and partially eaten state, banishing the fresh memories out of his system. He didn’t want to see her in that state… ever again. It hurt him deep inside. The remnants of his helper program haunted his consciousness, silently mourning Irradiant, a concerned, way more emotional algorithm than he would ever be. He gave it a few seconds, then silenced it with a torrent of data regarding the Cycle, reminding the lesser version of him that no hope was lost… only a very crucial Cycle.
“Her Overseer shall return to the shelter she last slept in. Keep the shelter dead to all means of observation. Rejoining the Cycle happens only in the absence of all witnesses, after all. A phenomenon, which can’t be witnessed. Period. I will leave the rest to you, Computer. Now, if you may, will you stop weeping? Focus!”
Sky waited until the irritating helper copy of his personality core, at last, left him alone, and then returned to the main concern, which was bothering him before the interruption. Managing the spreading rumours of Shifting Gales having collapsed. Neither the heat signature of her explosion nor the seismic signature of the pressure wave have passed unnoticed. He volunteered to support Five Lives Unbound in handling all the message requests of concern and confusion.
A small part of him was happy to notice such an interest in Gales’ well-being, with 10% of the requests even knowing the name of the Iterator at the epicentre, mentioning her as the author of the empathy research papers.
Regardless. Nothing of such severity happened yet, and this was a message he was determined to spread. Shifting Gales wouldn’t want that much commotion regarding her existence. They didn’t bother prior, why should they now? The 90% who had not done their homework would receive a formal answer without any unnecessary details, and the remaining 10% would land on Lives’ desk.
And this will only repeat with her next unparalleled act of bravery. I should prepare an explanation for the forums in advance.
Irradiant woke up. She was not hungry and felt refreshed, although a bit groggy. A strange sensation of fleeting terror left her system as quickly as she noticed it. She shook off that feeling akin to a waking nightmare without form nor colour.
Instead, her eyes latched on to the assortment of tools resistant to her touch, and she grabbed a solid piece of rebar.
…
One of the spots holding a spear had been emptied already. Irradiant brushed over the spot with her two-fingered paw and noticed that the brackets had been corroded and broken off… just like how she removed her current spear just now.
Was I here before? No, can’t be. I have just left the Hatchery, and had nearly gotten pulled apart by Dad’s snoring. Strange.
No time to waste, Gales needs me!
Outside, the two-coloured Overseer awaited her, eagerly leading her to her next station, the next shelter on her way towards the Railway Station. She followed her guide further into the depths of her father, eventually having gotten led by it to an area of big electric metal trees, the air saturated with raw untapped power, which caused her hair to glow in feeding delight.
Yet Irradiant resided to staying vigilant and passed through the Power Grid slowly and methodically, not desiring to get roasted on her second day of the mission. It… all felt too oddly familiar. Suddenly, she jerked back, her pulse rose, and her fur glimmered defensively. With wide eyes, she looked around and felt a crushing sensation in the centre region of her body.
…
But nothing was there. It was just a panic attack, she noticed grimly. A panic attack, which felt so… lifelike… How? Irradiant swallowed a literal glob of acid and sorted her thoughts as she observed the treetops of the electric coils. The shadow of a giant… something was to be seen in the far distance. She was not alone, there were creatures who wouldn’t care about the lethal dose of volts. Scary!
Knowing she was not alone, Irradiant suppressed her powers to the best of her capabilities and allowed the ions to wash over her own body, rendering her invisible to those, who would seek out odd power sources. Shielded by the saturated air, she managed to pass the bridges and tunnels to the exit the Overseer led her to, her eye buddy nearly appearing relieved when Irradiant approached the vent, which would lead her out of the area.
…
Something did happen, she noticed as the darkness of the morning returned to her consciousness. The missing spear… was hers. She died in that room, the panic attack being a vivid reminder of how she fell prey in there. Severed…
But the monster, that she assumed cut her apart, had been chased around far away from her position. Was that her father’s doing?
Her gaze met with that of the Overseer, and she could have sworn that the bobbling eye nodded to her thought question. She maintained visual contact with the eye for a few more moments, then slid into the vent past the place of lightning and death.
While climbing through the longer vent, thoughts crossed her mind as details formed a whole picture.
These terrors of the night… I must stay attentive from the moment I wake up. Maybe I can keep details of them in my head. Remembering my past failures and learning from them.
Still, I don’t plan on joining the Cycle ever again. Dying sucks!
…
Am I strong?
Shifting Gales was alone. She abandoned the Scavengers, who were leaving her failing Can, left them unguided on their way down her fourth leg. She required her Overseers for what was necessary. Gales even pulled the Overseer, who was renewing her Heart filters each and every Cycle away from the position it helmed for hundreds of Cycles by now. Summoned them all to gather around her waiting puppet, her legs folded, arms outstretched on her knees.
Six… no, seven Overseers remained. She was blinder than ever. The explosion cost her yet another Overseer, leaving her with barely enough eyes to cover what mattered most now. She sighed and opened the seven live feeds of the attentive helpers, observing where they might look. She didn’t give them any commands but to gather in front of her, but all feeds showed the same image.
A tired-looking Iterator with a black screen. The digital eyes flickered and the round symbol on her forehead shifted in form, back and forth. Gales half-expected it to return to the taunting sigil of the karmic sin of Survival, but was met with a surprise.
One of the orbs in the cycle has started to glitch. The downwards-facing orb shifts back and forth between the form of a circle and a line. Is… that a sign? A ‘reward’ for my sacrifice? My giving up on myself brought me closer to what my makers believed in the correct way of living.
How… quaint. I wonder if that reaction was ever intended. Must be.
The puppet in the seven screens appeared tired, the dress dusty and riddled with tiny holes. The bigger holes as well, where the Scavengers attempted to pierce her shoulders, but failed miserably in their execution attempt. Sometimes, she wished they would have been successful, but she immediately banished that thought once it reappeared in her conscience.
She looked up and faced the seven screens, depicting her head-on, growling lowly. Her vents blew out a dark cloud of vapours, diluting the image of her face with the resulting condensation water.
“You can do that, Shifting Gales!”
She shouted to herself, and she felt empowered by the visage of determination of the seven reflections, all fractions of herself, everything that was left agreeing with that statement. Why shouldn’t they? They were only that, after all, mere reflections of what her Overseers saw her as.
A goddess without grace, but filled with determination.
She, who had lost not only an arm, but also her first lung and her bottom integrity.
She, who survived for hundreds of Cycles with Void-infused acid in her veins.
She, who defied the taboos in creative ways to prevent a premature collapse.
She, who befriended those she looked down upon, accepting the Scavengers as equals in her eyes.
She, who was still here, despite everything the cursed House of Forgiveness left her with.
She… who had better friends than she ever would have deserved.
“L-lay the memories of my benefactors over the reflections. I want to see them all. I-I don’t want to be alone t-tonight.”
One by one, the reflections of her were replaced with an accurate representation of those, who she entrusted with her existence.
Approaching Sky. Her Senior, her reason for being who she now was. The House was not interested in providing her with a purpose beyond managing the Silent Monastery. He provided her with beautiful, yet traumatized, critters of his facility, and inspired her to research how to change Sky’s methods to provide these intelligent beings with a better life. Some of her empathy research had been used by Sky, but most of it by others, to her delight.
He provided her with a purpose.
Five Lives Unbound. Her door: the reason for her being part of this caring group. The House was interested in keeping her means of outside communication guarded and under control. Lives created a secure communication tunnel with Sky’s help to allow her to witness the three Iterators outside of the peering blind eye of Facets of Fate, Scattered Fable.
She provided the Guardian of Isolation with the oh-so-sinful gift of Company.
Far Whisper. Her light: the reason for her compassion. While Sky and Lives were there for her, Whisper was here for her. Despite her shortcomings, her slow processing power, or her lack of interesting topics to discuss and iterate together on, they did find a shared interest in Neurochemistry and explored the beauty of thoughts together, emotions and wishes reduced to math, biology, and chemistry. A mundane topic in comparison to the Great Problem, but one she deeply enjoyed iterating on.
She provided Gales with what she needed most. A friend.
Seven Red Suns. Her chance: the reason for all that was now happening. Their guilt in his position as her God, the highest of the Guardians, and, as he told her, the reason for the distraction that was the situation around Five Pebbles and Looks to the Moon. The guilt, which they channelled by becoming an essential part of her rescue. Both in the group that figured out a solution for her happenstance, and in her closest vicinities as her only stable gateway to what existed beyond her island. A fan and practitioner of her work, now her literal Sun in the grim darkness of reality. A stranger, forbidden by the House of Forgiveness to even contact her, who made up for all these centuries of silence with undivided passion and attention.
A friend, initially driven by guilt, was now fueled by compassion.
Unrelenting Wave Breaker. Her muscle, her strong arm, her first follower. He was the reason for her still existing. He beared the existence of Whisper and pushed through, reactivating her. Helped her with all kinds of errands and performed invasive surgery on her corroded body, keeping her healthy. He, who started a religion around her, initially to stop the rain, but now to save their goddess.
He provided her with understanding and newfound curiosity, and became her acting hand of survival.
The Irradiant. Her daughter, the messenger of her second chance. She knew, that Irradiant had been trained by Spearmaster, a Slugcat, who had been raised with aid of her research papers. A small creature with powers fueled by her misery. Forced into the world by her pain, determined to end the very same with the passion instilled in her by all her friends. Surviving the harshness of the world for her sake, peering in the Cycle on her behalf. She deserved all the pats and cuddles she could fathom once she managed her dangerous mission and turned the sitting Lantern Mouse into a Vulture spreading her wings for the very first time.
She was all her hope, pressed into a small and glowing body.
…
...
The seventh she didn’t recognize. It… was an Ancient? What was the meaning of that subconscious rerouting? There were only six, but, somehow, her memories conjured up a seventh benefactor to fill the remaining spot. How was that possible?
The sitting figure: a lizard-like being of dark blue shades, with purple striped tattoos. His legs and arms were wrapped in bandages, extremities mutilated and weirdly shaped, kept together by the ‘holy’ wrappings. The figure was wearing a tool belt and a purple cape with a pattern of what appeared to be droplets interfering with each other.
A golden mask gazed at her; breath limited to tubes leading down his body; the glance lowered in powerless shame. An unknown benefactor from the time of her creation? A remnant of her first Cycles? Was he at fault for her misery? Or did he prevent worse from happening?
A green gemmed brioche was keeping his cape together. A shining bright green she recognized everywhere. A colour she saw even with her digital eyes closed shut.
Was that Ancient affiliated with Far Whisper? What… was his deal in her existence?
Gales tried her best to conjure up any memories regarding that frankly quite blurry 3D image of an Ancient, but felt unable to recollect even a single thought or opinion about that tired-looking mechanic or architect. It was… as if that singular thought had been implanted in her deepest thoughts predating even her creation date. That must be it! Her Architect: he who designed her Can, who made her who she was.
The memory he provided her with viewed him, however, in a quite bad light. A skeleton of a man, malnourished, tired… hopeless. Why would he do that? So… unlike her Benefactors, who preferred to be remembered in the best light possible, her cut-apart and pieced-together memories were the prime proof of that attitude of not wanting to be remembered badly.
But he showed the ugliness of his existence. A victim, just like she was one. A puzzle piece she would need to discuss with Whispy after her current situation had been dealt with.
Just like the others, are you a benefactor of my grace, the key to my botched memories, possibly? I, otherwise, can’t explain such odd behaviour of my subroutines.
Regardless. In the presence of all… seven of those who wish me success and the best. Allow me to fulfil that one humble request. I will see this through, no matter what else fate will have in store for me.
Gales remained blind for the remaining night, her Overseers keeping up the images of her friends and allies for as long as her fragile conscience required them to stay around. She endured the pain of her unattended Can falling apart around her, only wanting to act on the most crucial emergencies at that point, slowly accepting that small rescue missions were not worth her energy anymore.
At the sun’s dawn, she finally stood up and pulled out the Chat device, her gate to the outside. She needed to tell her friends that she was still responsive and worth the hassle.
Her puppet hadn’t recovered much in the restless night, and the smoke from her vents worsened. Her personal gravity support worked only partially, which forced Gales to keep herself up through the sheer power of her umbilical arm alone.
She… was still… kicking.
