Shades Of Forever

Sky, the reality buffer is-

"I know, Box," I reply, trying not to let the bone-shaking chills overtake my body. It doesn't seem like the sun has shifted at all, yet I'm exhausted. "I know. Just, give me a minute, okay?"

...sorry, Sky. I'll fix it.

The aching fatigue fades from my muscles, but perversely, it only makes me angrier. Sitting amongst the blood and shit, feeling my limbs delicately consume both off my skin, it's all I can do not to scream.

"...Box."

A pregnant silence, puffy clouds drifting by placidly. I watch their slow-motion waltz across the azure ballroom overhead, trying futilely to track immediate movements by comparing the bulging shapes with static objects in my vision, my eyes unfocusing while trying to take in everything at once.

i don't know how to deal with this.

Who you are presents me with an out of context problem.

I slump back into the dirt, gazing blankly up at the sky, arms splayed out.

"...I know."

Box reminds me of the little ones, not just in temperament, but in the absolute fixation on an arbitrary outcome that matters only to them. Box wants to make numbers to go up. If I can't help Box make numbers go up, Box will help me realize why making numbers go up is the best use of my time. Box doesn't understand why I want the things I want, because the only thing that matters to Box is that numbers go up.

...rewriting core assumptions...

Intellectually, I understand what the little ones want. They're the center of their own particular universe. What's important to them is the most important thing that will ever happen. They want acknowledgment that their lives have meaning.

Except, the little ones eventually grow up. Will Box? Can Box?

...rewriting core assumptions...

Emotionally, I want to shriek until the sky splits in half, my raging despair enough to crush infinity into a ball that I can throw into the trash. We killed twelve people. Humans like me. We plotted it out, hunted them down, then executed them.

Has that bush always been there?

My throat convulses and I roll over to the side, vomit dribbling between my clenched teeth. My limbs lap eagerly at the biomass and I slap them away, trying not to puke again. It's not Box's fault this is how it interacts with the world. Without Box I'd be dead.

Right now it's hard to remember that.

...Sky?

"I just..." I wipe my hand across my mouth, pushing the acidic burn back down my throat, "need a minute. Please."

An insect buzzes in, drawn by the noxious bounty, and I stare dumbly, too drained to brush it away. Killing the violations was one thing. Those were clearly wrong. But now that the heat of the combat is gone, how do I unclench this ugly knot in my stomach? My entire life, I've known we're the last humans remaining, the only survivors of a calamity so great it covered the entire planet. Finding other humans, alive, should be cause for celebration, but all I've done is end them. What of their villages? What about the people they knew, that they loved and cared for?

...rewriting core assumptions...

I try to grab hold of my anger, the fact that they killed Wires, but it's like trying to grip mist in a clenched fist. All I can think about is the sounds they made as they died, the little gasps of pain, the surprised disbelief. That group didn't kill Wires, and killing them didn't bring him back. Nothing will bring him back.

Core assumptions reconfigured

Sky.

"Go away, Box."

I curl into a ball, arms hugging my knees to my chest, and close my eyes.

Killing isn't supposed to be easy, Sky. That's why the normal training for anyone integrating with a Combat Variant involves severe desensitization over a period of several years before they integrate. Those Marauders wouldn't have spared a second thought for you if they won and it was your corpse on the ground.

"And that's supposed to make it okay?" I mumble into my shins.

No. It just makes it something that had to be done. As long as Wutan-Weylan thinks you're here, they're going to keep searching, and they will eventually find the village. Sometimes protecting people comes with a cost.

I think of Wires yelling for me to run, trying to draw the attention away, the confused look on his face as his body fell apart.

And yes, sometimes the cost is high. Extremely high.

"...I don't know if I can pay it. I'm not brave like Wires was."

...Sky, you went alone into an unknown cave and single-handedly took out a reality anchor. You successfully ambushed an entire Wutan-Weylan scout squad with heavy support. Your bravery is not an issue. You're just not used to killing people.

I uncurl a bit.

"I don't want to get used to killing people."

You don't have to. It would make things easier, but as I said earlier, your mind is your own. I'd offer to help you ignore those feelings, but I already know you won't let me.

"No. They were human beings. They deserve to be remembered." I uncurl a bit more, opening my eyes back up. "We all deserve to be remembered."

Very well. In that vein, I have a suggestion. A way to memorialize the fallen.

I make myself sit up.

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

I can set aside a portion of the biomass we harvest in a type of 'storage.' This will lessen our healing regeneration slightly, but we can then repurpose it at your village as an extremely effective growth enhancer for new trees. I believe this matches with your funerary customs?

I mull over Box's proposal. It's not the worst idea in the world. If I want to protect the village, I'll have to pay the cost in lives, but at least this way there's the potential for something new to rise out of it. Maybe Box can grow.

It will also provide an excellent emergency snack in case you die and I have to replenish our reserves. Now, c'mon, let's make numbers go up!

...nevermind. I push myself to my feet, feeling... not 'better,' but at least slightly more willing to keep moving forward. I approach the first fallen Marauder, bringing up the worst box to try and distract myself from the disconcerting things my limbs are doing to the corpse.

Establishing new reality baseline... waiting for quantum observer collapse...

You have two infinity expressions available

Choose one of the following:

Increased Damage (this makes us hurt things more)

Increased Attack Speed (4) (this makes us able to hurt things quicker)

Avoidance (1) (this allows us to get hurt more without having to retreat; don't pick it)

Life Regeneration (this allows us to heal more quickly using the same amount of biomass; don't pick it)

Increased Movement Speed (this allows us to move quicker; don't pick it yet)

Increased Movement Speed {Short Range} (this allows us to move quicker when a hostile is at Short Range or closer; don't pick it yet)

Increased Pierce Chance (this allows us to hit more than one thing with a single attack; don't pick it yet)

Increased Non-Causal Effect Chance (this allows us to inflict various ailments on enemies)

"There has to be a less offensive way of showing me that information, Box," I complain, squinting at the wall of text. "I keep losing track of what I'm reading."

Hmm. Let me try something. Pick Attack Speed while you wait.

I focus on the Increased Attack Speed option.

Observer collapse initiated... Attack Speed increased by 10%. Current Attack Speed increase is 30%

WARNING: Local reality limit for Attack Speed reached. Unlocking irrational options.

"...great, now what?"

You have one infinity expression available

Here, try this.

Increased Damage (0/5)

Increased Attack Speed (5/5) (+30%) (Four IOs available)

*Increased Movement Speed {SR} (0/3)

*Increased Non-Causal Effect Chance (0/8)

Avoidance (1/5) (+1%)

Life Regeneration (0/5)

Increased Movement Speed (0/5)

Increased Pierce Chance (0/5)

"...okay, now there's less words, more numbers, and everything moved to the left. I don't know if this is an improvement, Box. Also, what are 'IOs'?"

Irrational Options, aka one of the things that makes us unique and valuable. If you focus on Attack Speed you'll see. There's one there we should take.

I do as Box suggests and another box appears in front of me, this time on the right side of my vision.

Attack Speed - Irrational Options

Specialization (0/∞) (Increases Attack Speed by 1%. Subsequent investments will be 10% less. 1, .9, .81, .729, .6561, .59049, .531441...)

Momentum Strikes (0/1) (2% Increased Damage for each hit on an enemy in the last three seconds, to a maximum of double the base Increased Damage value)

Quickened Metabolism (0/1) (Increases to Attack Speed also apply to Life Regen rate, does not change efficiency of biomass use)

Phase Shift (0/1) (Non-causal damage from a single source is lessened by 50% of total Attack Speed value, to a maximum of 50% total damage mitigated. Attack Speed has no effect for three seconds after mitigating damage this way)

I feel my eyes crossing. "Box," I whine plaintively, "this is ridiculous. Those are entirely too many numbers and words! How am I supposed to know what to pick?"

I'd do it myself, but I can't. You're the one who has to collapse the quantum state. Choose Phase Shift.

I examine the last entry, trying to make some sense of the strange sentences. If I'm understanding it correctly, if I get hit by something like what the heavy Marauder was using again, I should take... less damage... based on...

"Box!"

I can't help myself. I start laughing, softly at first, then full side-splitting guffaws, tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't know why it's so funny, but it feels good to let it out.

"You... you want me to pick... a defensive option!"

...you don't have to make a big deal out of it.

Still howling, I lock in the choice and the boxes disappear.

...it's not that funny. 'We can't do damage if we're dead,' you're the one who said it, not me. We're going to run into more non-causal weaponry.

"Okay," I wheeze, making my way among the bodies scattered across the hillside as my limbs clean them out, "okay, if you say so."

I do say so. Stop here. We can use this.

I lean down to inspect one of the empty suits of chitin-like armor. The bottom half is mangled, caught up in one of the explosions earlier, but the breastplate looks completely intact. I eye it dubiously.

"This will fit?"

It will fit. I know your body's exact dimensions, Sky.

I shrug and pick up the chestpiece. It's remarkably light for how bulky it looks, a series of segmented plates made of some kind of metal that reminds me of a beetle's shell, all of it attached by an intricately woven underlayer of what looks like black cloth. A small indentation glows green, and I press it. The front and back half swing apart, allowing me to put it on. Another press seals it shut, and the armor settles across my body like a second skin. I twist and turn, inspecting the fit, but Box is right - it's like it was made for me. I rap my knuckles on the front plate and they bounce off with a convincing thud.

It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing. Should at least protect your Life a little bit.

"Another defensive upgrade? You're spoiling me, Box."

...

"Fine, fine, I'm done." One last giggle slips out. "For now. What about the weapons?" I squat down and reach for a pulse rifle, but it falls apart in my hands as I lift it up, disintegrating into a fine gray powder.

Useless. Standard Wutan-Weylan protocol is biometrically-linked with a self-destruct order in the event of an operator's death. We got lucky last night their initial recovery squad was sloppy. We'll have to find an unlinked one, or a molecular forge and make our own.

"I'm sure you'll explain what that means when it's important."

I will. Okay, that's the last of them. Let's keep going.

I retrieve Dirt's pack, carefully folding away the scrubcloak, then take one last look around the hillside. Apart from the occasional crater, it looks quiet, peaceful. If I didn't know how those craters happened, I could mistake them for an animal foraging for roots.

"...is it always like this, Box?"

The aftermath? In small-forces conflicts, generally yes. Modern weapons, especially non-causal models, don't exactly have a non-lethal setting, and Combat Variants don't leave much evidence behind. Biomass is biomass.

I set off toward the green waypoint hovering over the mountain starting to take up more and more of the horizon.

"Yeah, speaking of that, how come none of the Corporate Marauders had 'limbs' like ours?"

Integrated hosts don't get access to the limb system until they have at least twenty infinity expressions allocated, and those people are off fighting the serious wars. To those without sufficient reality exposure, the limbs can be... disconcerting.

"You don't say." I dash through a boulder rather than go around it and break my stride, which causes another thought to surface, one I probably should have considered earlier. "Box. What happened on that last dash? With the orange flicker? I shouldn't have been able to reach the Marauder, but I did."

Synchronous non-causal energy hijack.

"In barbarian-speak, please?"

I'll try. The reason I can provide a threat indicator for you is because the part of me interfacing with reality is constantly scanning our surrounding infinities, which gives us a very brief warning when an attack is on its way due to it occurring in some of them slightly earlier. This is also why it's tough for me to talk during combat - I need that processing power elsewhere. Now, we can't do much against traditional weaponry other than avoid it, but non-causal violations require energy to manifest, and if another non-causal violation intersects with that energy at the exact right time, we can subvert the outcome to our advantage by siphoning off the energy used and adding it to our own. What the advantage is depends on what non-causal violation you use, but generally speaking, it makes whatever the ability normally does, do it better. Dash goes further, offensive abilities hit harder, defensive abilities can withstand more, etcetera.

"Huh. Sounds complicated."

It is. The math would boil your eyes out of their sockets. Luckily for you, I'm the one dealing with it, and all you have to do is time up that blink if you want to try and take advantage.

I traverse the shore of a small pond. On the other side, several crabroaches stare at me with clusters of compound eyes, then flee into the water in rippling splashes.

"Why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"

This is supposed to be a tutorial. I'm trying to ease you into things as much as possible, Sky, and it's not without risk. In order to use an energy jack, you have to stay within the attack's threat, which means if you don't time it right, you're going to eat whatever's coming at you. As you saw, non-causal weaponry doesn't exactly fuck around. Usually it's better to just dash out of the threat zone, and that's normally what new hosts are taught. Energy jacking is for the compulsively suicidal and those with no other choice.

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess." I climb one last hill, this one covered in a field of purple wildflowers that fill the air with a spicy tang. Swarms of bugs flit in and around them, though thankfully they stay well clear of me. "Can someone do that to me? 'Energy jack' one of my abilities?"

Potentially, yes, though it's rare to find an operator willing to risk themselves on the practice required. Non-causal violations have been known to occasionally manifest much stronger than usual, and if your Life isn't high enough... splat. Nevertheless, there will be some out there, especially at higher levels. If we run into one, you'll have to be on your guard.

The mountain looms in front of me, a towering edifice of crumbling rock, steep cliffs, and winding gullies. The green icon gently hovers halfway up the sprawling slope, almost two thousand meters up. I frown.

"Box, how do I know the precise distance to where everything is at? And why isn't it in scrumbles?"

Because I'm excellent at math and I refuse to acknowledge your ridiculous measurement system.

"I don't see what's wrong with using scrumbles," I mutter, breaking into a run towards the snow-capped peak. "Everyone I know uses scrumbles."

If you say 'scrumbles' one more time, I'm going to use something even more obnoxious than

!! sparkles DING sparkles !!

the next time you fill the reality buffer.

"...fine, I'll just climb the mountain in silence. One foot in front of the next. For the next five thousand scrumbles."

...you better hope there's no one there to level from.