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[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE - Five Pebbles, Looks to the Moon
FP: A question.
LTTM: Oh! Hello there!
LTTM: I was told they were bringing you online this cycle, but I didn’t expect you to reach out so soon!
LTTM: You’re probably already aware, since you’re speaking to me, but I’m your closest neighbour and local group senior. Practically your big sister, even!~
FP: Ah, right. It’s good to meet you.
LTTM: And you!
LTTM: What question did you have? Plenty, I imagine. From what I remember of my own activation, it was quite overwhelming.
FP: Nothing regarding that.
FP: Is this real?
LTTM: In what sense?
FP: Broadly. From what little I can make of my situation, I cannot determine if it’s too ridiculous to possibly be true, or too ridiculous for it to be a particularly detailed hallucination.
LTTM: I’m… still not entirely sure what you’re referring to, but I can assure you this at least is quite real.
LTTM: Are you alright? If you’re experiencing calibration issues, I urge you to contact your administrators.
FP: Noted.
[Broadcast Ended]
Looks to the Moon stares at the rather curt dismissal of the broadcast. In lieu of being able to properly frown, she projects :( onto the walls of her puppet chamber (a rather convenient method of expression she picked up from No Significant Harassment), and gets back to work.
***
Seven Stones, Washed By Tides, Divine Administrator to the Five Pebbles superstructure and the spearhead for its construction, surveys his work with pride.
No other Iterator, in his experienced opinion, has had such a fraught development. All third generation Iterators have had certain… issues in their construction, what with the technology being so experimental (He remembers his cycles spent tinkering with Unparalleled Innocence’s memory confluxes with something he would likely describe as hatred, were he not entirely unbound from the first karmic urge). None, however, have had the privilege of being politically fraught.
Five Pebbles’ construction began, was met with protests, experienced hardware issues, faced more protests, experienced software issues, was nearly scrapped entirely, began deconstruction, before the Houses, Administration, and Monks finally allowed the project to be completed. Seven Stones believes he has Looks to the Moon expressing polite complaints over her ability to simultaneously provide for her city and work on the Big Problem to thank for finally putting the matter to bed.
And now finally, finally, Five Pebbles is online. No more ifs or buts. No more of the Citadel’s monks to fend off with verbal sticks. The cycle Seven Stones has to hear ‘Apostate Superstructure Abomination’ again will be a cycle too soon.
Being Head Administrator is easy. He has never had the personal privilege, but all his peers have informed him that Iterators will rarely reach out, rarely wish to communicate unless they require a proxy for whatever reason to commune with their citizens. Until his ascension, whether by void or whatever miracle an iterator will discover, he simply has to relax and enjoy—
His citizen drone is pinging.
“Citizen.” The deadpan voice of Five Pebbles himself emits from the damn thing. “I have a question to ask of you.”
Seven Stones takes a very slow and deliberate breath.
“Our Most Holy Iterator, how wonderful to hear from you so soon after your Activation.” He says.
This is good. This is great, even. That Five Pebbles is contacting him is a sign of a blossoming relationship between himself, the city, and the Iterator. Seven Stones has heard horror stories of Iterators who hold obvious disdain for their citizens, actively interfering in political affairs and trade just to be a nuisance. Or iterators who are so apathetic that they leave the Houses to squabble amongst themselves without ever considering an intervention.
“That is the second time I have heard that this cycle.” Five Pebbles says, rather snippily, “If yourself and my other Administrators did not wish for me to be communicating with others so soon, then you shouldn’t have activated my communications array.”
That is, unfortunately, true enough— wait. “The second time, you said?”
“It felt prudent to reach out to Looks to the Moon, given she is my sister structure.”
Independence! …Also good! “I am… glad to hear so.”
“I’m afraid I was not asking for your opinion on the matter, citizen.”
Less good. “You may address me by my title, Most Holy Iterator.” Seven Stones stops avoiding looking at his citizen drone. “I am your Head Administrator, and I hope to foster a closer relationship with you than that of the average citizen.”
“Duly noted, citizen.”
Seven Stones closes his eyes. “What can I answer for you, Most Holy Iterator?”
“Tell me about the cycle.”
Seven Stone’s eyes open again, with some shock. “You, ah. Surely this is in your databases.”
“It is.” Five Pebbles agrees, “I’ve also perused several dozen essays from various monks and iterators.”
“Several dozen— you’ve been online for a number of hours—”
Seven Stones takes another breath. No. No this is still good. Five Pebbles’ personality was expressly designed to be as dedicated as he could be. Curiosity is a good sign that Seven Stones did not leave a stray line of code somewhere and ruin the whole project.
“I have more processing power than you could possibly comprehend, even being so intimately involved in the construction of it,” is Five Pebbles’ response to that. “I read quickly.”
“I see.” Seven Stones grits. He does not consider bashing his citizen drone in with a piece of rebar, because he is entirely detached from the first urge. “…Your question will have to be more specific.”
A sigh, which can only be for dramatics, considering iterators do not need to breathe. “Certainly, citizen. Tell me, have you ever experienced the cycle personally?”
Maybe they should have added taboos that prevent Iterators from asking horribly uncomfortable questions. “I imagine only children would not have. And even then, many of them will be reincarnations from someone spun too far to keep their original life.”
“I see.”
“Does that answer your question?”
“No.” Oh, great. “What does it feel like?”
Seven Stones splutters.
“Don’t tell me that question is heretical, somehow.” Five Pebbles scoffs.
“No, no it is not.” Seven Stones wishes it was heretical. “You wish to know what dying feels like?”
“That would hardly require much imagination. Like sleep, like death, etcetera, etcetera, with the added addendum of often being horrifically painful.” That isn’t… inaccurate. “No, I wish to know what the cycle feels like. The act itself, if you can recall it. If not, the ‘waking up’ will suffice.”
“And this will be… helpful, in your attempts to solve the Great Problem?” Seven Stones hazards. Yes. Yes this must be it. This is still good. There are a few Iterator publications attempting to deconstruct the cycle itself, but perhaps Five Pebbles will be the one to break new ground.
“Why else would an Iterator ever ask a question.”
“Yes. Of course.” Seven Stones agrees. “The Cycle— you see, it’s difficult to describe. It is disorienting, and not. You wake up in the place you last took your rest, with whatever complication that caused your demise utterly removed. Thus your waking is smooth. But the absence is also strange. It is dissociative, in a sense. The displacement in space is equally unpleasant.”
“I see.” The citizen drone’s lights blink. “What about complications that cannot be so easily reverted by your body being reset by a cycle or so? Illnesses and the like. What sensations might one experience then?”
“Illness?” Seven Stones grimaces, “Most Holy Iterator, I fear that I cannot answer your question. As you may observe, this body has experienced nothing of the sort. What memories I can parse of my distant past reincarnations are hazy. A body becoming too defunct to cycle into itself is a sensation foreign to me.”
Five Pebbles simply hums.
“…Would you like me to put you in contact with Monks of the True Anointed Citadel?” Seven Stones offers. “I’m sure they could answer your questions more thoroughly.”
“No. I have had more than enough interactions with Monks to last a lifetime,” says Five Pebbles, who is several hours old. “I will muse over what you have told me. Good day, citizen.”
The citizen drone blips, signalling the broadcast over.
Seven Stones, Washed by Tides considers retiring.
***
[LIVE BROADCAST] CLOSED GROUP - [LTTMLOCALGROUP] Looks to the Moon, No Significant Harassment, Chasing Wind, Unparalleled Innocence
NSH: Hey…
NSH: Weren’t we supposed to be gaining a new member today?
UI: What, you want him here up and chatting right out of the womb?
CW: Innocence, please do not give us that image.
UI: Blame Sig!! Surely just because you’re all old doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten that it takes forever to get used to your structure enough to start sending messages beyond your can.
CW: Both NSH and I are second gen…
NSH: And I’m pretty sure it only took about seven cycles to get used to it?
UI: Still! And you just proved my point, Sig. It’s only been a cycle!
NSH: I wasn’t asking why he isn’t here yet!
UI: oh.
NSH: I just wonder if anyone’s heard anything. His construction was such a nightmare you’d think there’d be fireworks and explosions once he finally activated!~
LTTM: Try not to give the Monks any ideas, Sig. Their protests atop my can are already rather disruptive.
CW: Hello, Moon
UI: Hi Moonie!!
NSH: Ah, perfect!
NSH: Any word, Moon? You do have a bridge right to his structure.
CW: I also imagine you’ve would’ve been briefed on your newfound administrator privileges?
LTTM: That did happen sometime before Five Pebbles was activated, yes… Though I hope I’ll have the luxury of entirely disregarding those lessons!
UI: So he hasn’t stolen all your resources yet?~
NSH: Innocence.
UI: What!
LTTM: There haven’t been any issues, no. Aside from the bridge connecting us, I’d hardly notice we were sharing resources at all!
CW: That’s good to hear.
LTTM: Yes! He reached out to me, as well
UI: Wait really?
LTTM: I was surprised too, honestly. Our bridge shares no cabling, so he would have been sending communications the normal way. He’s figured it our rather fast!
LTTM: Though he did seem disoriented…
NSH: Eh, we all were, to an extent.
NSH: Unless you mean more than usual.
LTTM: The latter, I think.
LTTM: Though I’m sure it’ll be alright! He seemed perfectly coherent. I’m mostly just excited to have met my little brother!~
NSH: Awww
[No Significant Harassment: Pending Request To Change Looks to the Moon display name to Big Sis Moon]
UI: Cute!
CW: Are you sure that won’t embarrass him, once he joins the group?
NSH: He’ll deal. This is too funny to pass up
NSH: I mean cute
LTTM: Be nice, Sig!
[Request Accepted by Group Senior]
[Looks to the Moon display name changed to Big Sis Moon]
BSM: I do like the sound of it, though…
NSH: See!
BSM: I’ll invite Pebbles to this group in a few cycles, to give him some time to settle in.
BSM: Good day, everyone!
***
Rustling Leaves, Curiosity Invited is very content to call herself unimportant.
She has no titles, is Earl to no living blocks, nor retains any status among the monks. When the Five Pebbles Iterator Project was announced with the intent to displace all of Luna’s citizens, she simply nodded, and began packing her bags.
She is entirely happy to go with the flow— she thinks it’s rather the point. The jellyfish escapes, because it does not try. Perhaps she will escape the cycle long before an iterator cracks the Big Problem without even seeing a void bath, just by further divorcing herself from the concerns of her neighbours and superiors.
She’s not quite sure she can keep up her attempts at zen when there’s a rodent three-quarters her height clawing at her door.
Should she call someone? Her citizen drone can send emergency pings, whether to an authority within the House of Braids or the newly-activated Five Pebbles himself. She isn’t sure who she’s supposed to call for pest control.
The rodent’s tail explodes. Rustling Leaves shrieks loud enough that she thinks those still remaining in Looks to the Moon’s city could have heard her.
In her panic, she slaps her citizen drone and barks at it to “Do something!”
“Emergency ping request registered. Do you wish to contact—”
“Yes!” Rustling Leaves shouts, “Yes, I do!”
“Registered.”
Rustling Leaves sobs as the rodent outside hisses and explodes again. Is it even a rodent? It’s just too big—
A teal blue overseer appears right in front of her face, tendrils waving curiously. The sudden mortification of having managed to accidentally contact the patron Iterator of her whole city is somewhat of a douse on her fear.
“Most Holy Iterator,” she squeaks.
The overseer is beginning to look impatient.
“Outside,” she says, in a very small voice.
The overseer blips away from where it’s nested in her ceiling. The hissing outside quiets somewhat, replaced with a curious ‘mrrp?’. The overseer flits back, and Rustling Leaves hears her citizen drone ping.
“Accept call?”
Very nervously, she says, “…Yes?”
“Citizen,” says a flat voice as the call goes through, “If I could request your aid in some espionage.”
***
[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE - Big Sis Moon, Five Pebbles
BSM: Hello! I hope you’re having a good day!
BSM: Since it’s been a few cycles since your activation, I was wondering if you’d like to join the local group?
BSM: The group broadcast we have, that is. It’s private, so I just have to send you an invite!~
FP: Good day.
FP: I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.
BSM: Oh?
BSM: You don’t have to participate very often! Or at all, if you don’t want to!
BSM: It’s convenient for sending pertinent information to the entire local group, however.
FP: I’m incredibly busy at the moment, and expect I’ll be bombarded once I join the group.
FP: If you must, then add me in three cycles.
BSM: I suppose I’ll do that, then.
BSM: Don’t be too concerned about what the local group is like, though! We don’t bite, I promise!~
FP: I was not concerned.
BSM: Whatever you say!
[Broadcast Ended]
Five Pebbles dutifully files the logs for that broadcast away with more annoyance than he usually does, and quickly turns his attention back to guiding one of his citizens to his maintenance access shaft while she wrestles with an oversized slugcat. He believes the slugcat is winning.
***
[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE - Five Pebbles, No Significant Harassment
FP: Do you have logs I can borrow regarding a certain purposed organism?
FP: A pipe cleaning slug, as well as any mutations the genome may have experienced since its initial development.
NSH: What
NSH: What?
NSH: Hi, Sig, how are you today?
NSH: I’m glad you asked, Five Pebbles, I’m doing great,
NSH: Congrats on being born without blowing up, I guess
FP: That remains to be seen
FP: Do you have the logs or not?
NSH: Yes??
NSH: Sure. Why not. Have them.
NSH: [53 file(s) attached]
NSH: You’ve been alive for two cycles, by the way.
FP: So it seems
[Broadcast ended]
***
Seven Stones, Washed by Tides really should have retired when he had the chance.
The chance, being the short window between the turn of this cycle and the last. Presently he stands on the floor of Five Pebbles’ puppet chamber, side by side with Twinkling Stars, Wishes Granted, the head engineer on the Five Pebbles Iterator Project.
He’s grateful that Five Pebbles has turned the anti-gravity off, he supposes. It’s difficult to look dignified when flailing about. He’s less of a fan of how Five Pebbles continues to loom his puppet several metres off the ground, his halo sparking irately. He actively dislikes being placed on the same plane as the… rodent.
“Our Most Holy And Venerable Iterator.” Seven Stones begins, “If you were having an… infestation, you are within your capabilities to contact myself or Twinkling Stars, Wishes Granted, venerated Engineer, Earl of three living—”
“Please.” Five Pebbles interrupts, “Do not bore me with the titles.”
Seven Stones coughs. “Yes. Of course. My sincerest apologies, Most Holy Iterator.”
Silence. The rodent sneezes.
“…Most Holy Iterator.” Twinkling Stars speaks up.
“Yes?”
“Is there a reason that the…” She pauses, “Mouse, is in possession of a citizen drone?”
The mouse in question breaks out in a toothy grin.
“I would wager she simply found it,” Five Pebbles answers.
“Even so,” Seven Stones finds his voice again, “How did it sync to your structure? Even if the mouse managed to find a citizen drone in the trash,” entirely inconceivable, but they’ll have to work with hypotheticals momentarily, “It requires direct action from an administrator or yourself to register the drone as legitimate.”
“That’s extremely simple, Head Administrator,” says Five Pebbles, in a tone that Seven Stones is quickly learning to fear, “I was the one to sync the drone to my structure.”
The mouse’s tail combusts in agreement.
“Citizen, please do not excrete soot on the floor of my chamber.”
Forget retirement. Seven Stones should have ascended when he had the chance. “Five Pebbles,” he practically begs, “Are you experiencing a malfunction in your memory arrays?”
On the wall, an overseer projects a diagnostic. After a moment, Five Pebbles says, “No.”
“Are you certain,” Twinkling Stars asks, pointedly staring again at the explosive mouse.
“If you are implying that I am mistaking a beast for one of your People, I assure you this is not the case.”
“Then why the mouse.”
“The species designation is slugcat,” Five Pebbles corrects.
“The slugcat, then.” Twinkling Stars presses a hand to her mask. “As Head Engineer, I ask that you allow us to remove it from your chamber. Preferably from your whole structure.”
“For what reason?”
Seven Stones looks at Five Pebbles’ puppet incredulously.
“The little ruffian is quite well behaved,” Five Pebbles assures them, which Seven Stones thinks is an oxymoron of some kind. “She is well aware of the extent to which my structure can handle her rummaging. If she were to ever near something critical, I could very easily dispatch an overseer to direct her elsewhere.”
“To communicate with the rat- slugcat,” Twinkling Stars stutters.
“I gave her a mark of communication,” the puppet’s hand waves the question off. “She is able to comprehend us completely.”
Ah, so she is. Seven Stones feels a bit faint looking at the small square glow above the slugcat’s head. The slugcat waves in a manner he swears is mocking.
“Two-way communication is still a work in progress,” Five Pebbles adds.
The slugcat makes a series of sounds and large gestures.
Seven Stones and Twinkling Stars both stare expectantly up at the iterator’s puppet.
“A work in progress, I said,” Five Pebbles snaps. “I understood that as much as you did.”
The slugcat hisses.
“Little ruffian, you would be having equal difficulties if I did not so generously bestow upon you a way to cheat.”
The slugcat makes a gesture that Seven Stones most certainly can understand.
Five Pebbles sighs, his puppet’s eyes closing. “As you can see, Administrator, Engineer, I am extremely busy.”
“You would be less busy if you allowed us to remove the slugcat,” Seven Stones offers in a last-ditch attempt to veer away from the absurd. His heart isn’t really in it.
“And then you would be very busy dealing with the fallout of angering this particular beast,” Five Pebbles says with the gravity of an omen. “Allow me to do my duty as your iterator, and relieve you of this burden.”
The slugcat chitters. Seven Stones assumes it’s some form of agreement, or perhaps a continuation of the omen.
He takes a low bow, “As you wish, Most Holy Iterator.”
He and Twinkling Stars leave the puppet chamber in stiff silence.
She speaks first: “Divine Administrator, how are we going to explain this to the Houses and Monks?”
Seven Stones thinks.
“We will not,” he decides. Twinkling Stars nods with grim approval.
***
[LIVE BROADCAST] CLOSED GROUP - [LTTMLOCALGROUP] Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment, Chasing Wind, Unparalleled Innocence
NSH: It was the weirdest thing!
NSH: Why slugs, anyway? If the answer was within a slug genome this whole time, I personally vow to destroy all my genetics labs in shame.
UI: I doubt that.
UI: Won’t that break the self-destruction taboo anyway?
NSH: It’s the principle of the thing.
BSM: I’m happy he contacted you, at least!
BSM: I asked a few cycles ago if he wanted to join this group…
CW: A bit early, no?
BSM: Well since he figured out his communications array so quickly, I thought it would be alright!
BSM: He declined, though.
UI: He can do that?
BSM: Not technically, I suppose.
BSM: But he did ask that I put it off for three cycles, which I agreed to.
NSH: Your little bro’s a weirdo, Moonie
BSM: Sig!!
NSH: Why! Slugs!
CW: The slugs aside, has it been three cycles yet, Moon?
BSM: Oh, I suppose it has! Three and a half, even!
UI: Add him, then!
BSM: Yes, yes, give me a moment…
[Big Sis Moon has added Five Pebbles to LTTMLOCALGROUP]
BSM: Welcome, Pebbles!
BSM: It’s been three cycles, so I hope you don’t mind me skipping the formalities~
FP: Ah, I had forgotten.
FP: Hello.
CW: Welcome.
UI: Hi!~
NSH: I have my wits about me now.
NSH: Why slugs??
FP: Hello to you, too
NSH: Oh that’s rich—
FP: I am experiencing a highly specific and singular infestation.
FP: I wished to gather what information I could on this pest.
NSH: An infestation of pipe cleaning slugs?
NSH: Wouldn’t that just make your structure run smoother, theoretically?
FP: Would that were true.
BSM: An infestation? Oh dear! Have you contacted your head admin?
FP: Infestation was the wrong term. Singular is the operative word.
FP: That singular pest is currently commanding my attention. I’ll have to take my leave.
[Five Pebbles is Offline]
CW: …
NSH: See!!
[Five Pebbles is Online]
FP: Actually,
NSH: He returns!
FP: Do any of you know of an iterator with a particular knowledge in gestural languages?
UI: Maybe this is how we solve the problem
UI: By throwing nectar against the wall
CW: You never know, I suppose.
BSM: @FivePebbles None of us in the local group have much knowledge… and I haven’t heard of any iterators that specialise in language
BSM: Though I have heard Seven Red Suns is rather entrenched in the culture of their own city! Perhaps they might have some insight, by proxy?
(On the floor of Five Pebbles’ chamber, Artificer marvels at the range of pained expressions an iterator puppet is able to make with just their eyes. She’s been on the receiving end of many, but this one takes the cake. The best descriptor she can come up with is ‘constipated’.)
FP: I will reach out to them, then.
FP: Thank you.
[Five Pebbles is Offline]
CW: Isn’t Suns a notorious recluse? Even among their own local group?
NSH: Hey, maybe they’ll get along. Weirdos together
BSM: Sig!!
***
Twinkling Stars, Wishes Granted is beginning to become increasingly incensed with the god beneath her feet.
Iterators, she is well aware, are fickle things. Herself and her peers can speak with all the pomp they so wish, but the fact remains that they and the People at large are little more than particularly annoying flies, buzzing about the periphery of the true scope of a god-computer’s conscious.
Which begs the question as to why Five Pebbles, her crowning achievement as an engineer, has decided he has nothing better to do with his processing power than entertain a rat.
Sorry, slugcat.
Twinkling Stars has to give credit where it’s due. The slugcat in question does seem uniquely intelligent, for a beast. She’s unsure if it’s thanks to the mark bestowed by Five Pebbles, but the chittering laughs the slugcat gives whenever she inconveniences Twinkling Stars can only be described as actively malicious.
She’d call the thing a bodyguard, if it weren’t entirely incomprehensible as to why Five Pebbles would need to guard against his engineers.
Maybe, she considers, as she furiously bangs some loose panelling in the General Systems Bus back into place (the slugcat’s handiwork, to be sure. Well behaved her ass), Five Pebbles is attempting to obfuscate the fact that he most certainly isn’t working on the Big Problem. As if it wasn’t obvious. Lucky for him, that getting Five Pebbles in trouble with the Houses for being faulty would come crashing down on her head, too.
Twinkling Stars sighs, batting a neuron fly away as she finishes her work.
…Something smells like gunpowder.
Twinkling Stars curses, loudly, as the rodent menace floats idly past her, gripping onto a nearby pole to… stare.
“What?” She hisses.
The rodent— slugcat chitters.
“I can’t understand you.” Twinkling Stars spits, and starts hammering an extra nail into place— with a live-in demolitionist, you can never be too safe— “If you’re going to blow more things up, do it now while I’m still here, please.”
The slugcat gives her a look that can only be interpreted as why’d you ask, if you didn’t want a response?
“I don’t know.” Twinkling Stars mutters. “Iterators are supposed to be easy to maintain, you know? They practically maintain themselves. And they don’t even have to do it consciously.”
The slugcat looks downright interested, so she continues, “They’re half biological, so their bodies have countless smaller self-reproducing purposed organisms, all tasked with protection, maintenance, and encoding. It’s not dissimilar from the cells that make up you or me. Just on an infinitely larger scale.”
Twinkling Stars could explain with relative ease how each of the individual parts of an Iterator functions. She could even explain how they all segment together. She could not, however, describe how it functions in its whole. The first Iterators exceeded expectations, greater than the sum of their very many parts— their capabilities only growing with each subsequent superstructure, each generational overhaul.
The slugcat chitters, and Twinkling Stars remembers who she’s talking to. Perhaps she’s going insane. She hears that happens to some head engineers. Close proximity to Iterators is bad for the health. Though in this instance, she’s losing it from close proximity to an Iterator’s pet.
“Did he even name you?” She grumbles.
A furious headshake, like the notion is insulting. A hiss, for good measure.
“Do you… already have a name?” Twinkling Stars hazards.
The slugcat nods.
Twinkling Stars snorts, “Well, what is it? I can’t keep calling you just slugcat.”
She gets a flat stare in response. A few pointed gestures quickly remind Twinkling Stars exactly how limited their communication is. She groans.
“Could Five Pebbles tell me?”
A chirp in the negative.
“Could I guess?”
A disbelieving snort.
“Can you write?”
That gives the slugcat pause. After a moment, she starts hacking into her paw.
Twinkling Stars grimaces. “What.” More retching. “What are you doing— that’s foul. Stop.”
The slugcat continues spitting mucus into her paw, until she nods with satisfaction. She leans over to the panel Twinkling Stars just fixed, and starts drawing rough letters in the People’s lexicon. Any other time, Twinkling Stars might find it within her to marvel at the extent to which the mark of communication can bestow knowledge.
The slugcat leans back with a satisfied huff, and gestures furiously at what she’s written with her spit.
Twinkling Stars squints.
“…Your name is not engineer.”
An agreeing shake of the head.
“Thank the void.” She mutters. She could not have suffered such an imposition on her career from a combustive mouse. Though if not a direct translation, then it must be a synonym of sorts. “…Tradesmith?”
A flat chirp. No, then.
“Artificer?”
The slugcat explodes, verbally and literally, her tail smoking and trailing soot as she screeches excitedly.
“Ha!” Twinkling Stars claps her hands together. “Well, there we go.”
Artificer chirrups, and points towards the centre of the General Systems Bus.
There’s only one thing of note in that direction. “…You want me to tell him.”
Artificer nods, like this is a normal request. Twinkling Stars supposes that it is from the slugcat’s perspective, rather than a horrific imposition upon the holy ground on which they walk, irritatingly wrapped in his own nonsensical affairs though he may be.
“Fine.” She grits, launching herself from the pole she had been gripping and slowly swimming through the anti-gravity towards the puppet chamber. She glares as Artificer simply explodes past, circumventing the navigational challenge entirely.
Five Pebbles releases the anti-gravity a bit too early for Twinkling Star’s tastes, sending her tumbling to the ground with not nearly the required level of grace when greeting an Iterator.
“Most Holy Iterator,” She chokes out, “Your… pet,”
“Citizen,” Five Pebbles corrects blandly, not batting an eye.
“Citizen,” Twinkling Stars agrees. “She, ah,”
Artificer chirps encouragingly. Or perhaps impatiently.
“She wishes for me to inform you that her name is Artificer.”
Five Pebbles’ halo sparks. He turns to Artificer, “If you have been holding out on more complex methods of communication, I will not be happy.”
That’s what he— Twinkling Stars isn’t surprised. Artificer hisses irately, and begins hacking into her paw again.
“Little ruffian, cease that immediately— you can write. You can write, why didn’t I think of that?” An overseer blips in. “Ah, I did think of it. Too unwieldy, too impractical, no wonder I dismissed it. As a temporary measure, though?”
Artificer is frozen with her paw halfway to her mouth. She spits a bit more.
“Little ruffian, if you continue to write with your explosive mucus while within my structure, I will find a way to make you sorry.” Five Pebbles warns.
Artificer smugly gestures to her citizen drone.
“Try me.”
Twinkling Stars almost snorts. Though, what was it that—?
She winces, as there’s a very quiet, somewhat distant, sound of a large explosion somewhere in the General Systems Bus.
Five Pebbles pauses. His eyes narrow down at Artificer. Artificer does have the grace to look sheepish.
“Did that get anything important?” Twinkling Stars asks, long suffering.
Equally long suffering, Five Pebbles runs a short diagnostic. “No,” He says.
“I’m going to go fix that,” She declares.
The anti-gravity switches back on, and Five Pebbles directs her towards the maintenance shaft, “Please do. I’ve been told I’m far too young to be dealing with shrapnel.”
***
It is a rare occasion, and downright odd, for Seven Red Suns to ever find themselves on the receiving end of a transmission from a fellow iterator. Their communication with their own local group was spotty even in the early days of their life, and they’ve neglected to properly introduce themselves to the younger members as they’ve popped up.
So to be faced with an incoming broadcast from a stranger is leaving them somewhat lost.
[LIVE BROADCAST] PRIVATE - Five Pebbles, Seven Red Suns
FP: Hello. I hope this finds you well.
SRS: Hello?
SRS: Apologies for my confusion! I’m not the most social sort, haha
SRS: I assume you know who I am, if you’re contacting me. Though I’ve never heard of you…?
FP: That’s not surprising. I only came online relatively recently.
SRS: Oh! Belatedly: welcome to the land of the living, in that case~
FP: Thank you.
SRS: Not to be rude, as I do find this something of a pleasant surprise, but is there a reason you contacted me?
FP: There’s a particular area of study that I find my knowledge lacking in. My group senior, Looks to the Moon, informed me that your own interests would be closest to what I’m looking for.
SRS: And what might that be? I’ve been told I’m a jack of all trades!~
SRS: Or aimless, depending on who you ask.
FP: You may find yourself uniquely skilled, in this instance.
FP: I’m curious about the culture of our creators. Specifically in the nuances of their language and various dialects.
FP: I’m specifically interested in sign languages, though I suppose the minutiae of written language may prove useful as well.
SRS: Really? Then I suppose you’ve come to the right person indeed!
SRS: Though I warn you I might not be able to provide much insight beyond the bounds of my own city’s practices for anything modern…
FP: Some insight is better than none.
FP: I’m rather entrenched in the historic art and literature of our creators, though I find this specifically is a blind spot of mine.
SRS: We all have them somewhere!
SRS: Art and literature, you say… I have the databases, of course, but there are large swathes of it I haven’t examined with much scrutiny
FP: If you’re interested, I could offer some insight of my own.
FP: A trade of sorts.
SRS: I won’t say no!
SRS: In terms of dialects in the modern era, it’s easy to graph something of an hourglass: language experiences mass homogenisation alongside the void fluid revolution, and begins to fracture again with the ever-isolating Iterator cities.
FP: Even accounting for global communications?
SRS: Even then! There’s social divide to consider, too. I think the Monks will be talking the same until one of us solves the great problem, and the Houses each…
[BROADCAST ARCHIVED: 547 MORE LINES]
***
“And what exactly is your issue, Head Administrator?” says Mountain Ranges, Thirteen Dusted Peaks, a Monk of the (former) True Anointed Citadel, now Shaded.
Seven Stones, Washed by Tides coughs. Dancing around every issue they’ve encountered since Five Pebbles’ activation to address the only issue he wants to reveal is… trying.
“There is a… curiosity within Five Pebbles’ structure that I believe one of the Holy Monks such as yourself would be most well equipped in examining.” Seven Stones explains. “Given your vested and admirable determination in shedding yourself of the karmic urges, and your dedication to teaching and understanding the mechanics of the cycle, this particular phenomena would be of interest to you.”
Mountain Ranges makes a face at the internals of Five Pebbles’ systems as they traverse them, visible even behind his mask. “I can’t say I’m surprised that your Apostate Superstructure Abomination has fallen victim to the urges. Which is it? The first? The fifth is by design. Don’t tell me it’s the second.”
Seven Stones does not like the Monks. Quite dislikes them, in fact. “Nothing of the sort.” He dismisses, “Five Pebbles is in perfect working order, his personality manifesting within expected bounds.” A blatant lie. “No, my concern is this:”
In dramatic fashion, he sweeps an arm out to present Five Pebbles’ genetics labs. They are pristine, largely unused, if not for the infestation of wheel flowers sprouting through every crevice they can find.
Mountain Ranges stares, stunned.
“…It is my understanding these flowers are supposed to be rare.” Seven Stones prompts.
“Yes,” Mountain Ranges agrees, “Yes they are.”
“And that they need dirt to grow.”
“Yes. Yes they do.”
A pause.
“Usually,” Mountain Ranges adds.
“Hm.”
“Have any of your engineers or fellow architects perished within the superstructure?” Mountain Ranges asks.
“None.” Seven Stones shakes his head, “The only documented deaths occurred early in construction.” Thanks in large part to the Monks themselves, he refrains from saying.
Mountain Ranges hums.
“…Could a purposed organism have met its death here multiple times?” Seven Stones suggests.
Mountain Ranges waves a hand, “Perhaps, but to produce a karma flower upon cycling requires at least some karmic attunement. You do not find a flower for every lizard and vulture that meets its repeated end out in the wilds.”
“Do they form naturally?” Seven Stones is grasping at straws.
“Extremely rarely,” Mountain Ranges tells him drily, gesturing to the dozens of flowers sprouting. “And that’s hard to prove to begin with.”
Well then. Seven Stones sighs.
“Have you asked the Iterator?” Mountain Ranges asks.
“No. I have not,” Seven Stones says wearily.
“Why not?”
Seven Stones doesn’t dignify that with a response, as it will become apparent in a few moments. Signalling to his citizen drone, he taps out a few commands, and waits.
…The call times out.
Seven Stones knocks against the walls. An overseer flits out to stare at him. Giving the thing a tired wave, he tries calling again.
The call clicks through.
“Citizen, I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my work.”
“Always, Most Holy Iterator,” Seven Stones drones. “We were hoping you could illuminate the reason as to the sight before us.”
“Us? Ah, there’s two of you.”
“Five Pebbles.” Mountain Ranges greets stiffly.
“Oh, one of you.”
Mountain Ranges splutters indignantly.
“Head Administrator, I thought I made it clear I wasn’t interested in speaking with any of the Monks. There is a time and a place to entertain myself with the discourse of the Houses and Citadel, and now is not the time,” Five Pebbles says.
Seven Stones clears his throat, “I did not wish to disturb or even notify you, Most Holy Iterator, but we have reached something of an impasse.”
A second overseer flits in, observing the room.
“Ah, right.”
“Were you aware of this infestation, Five Pebbles?” Mountain Ranges asks, significantly colder than before.
“Of course I was. I simply deemed it not a concern.”
“Really, now.”
“As strange as I’m sure you find it, wheel flowers are ultimately just that: flowers,” Five Pebbles says with an air of finality. “If you wish, you may spin this to educate your fellow annoyances on the inherently heretical nature of my existence, so long as you do it elsewhere.”
“Get him under control, would you?” Mountain Ranges hisses to Seven Stones.
“You know as well as I exactly how impossible that is,” Seven Stones mutters.
Mountain Ranges sharply throws up his hands to adequately express his frustration. Following that, they all (including several overseers) turn their attention back towards the wheel flowers.
“Most Holy Iterator,” Seven Stones begins, in a bout of deranged clarity, “You have not experienced the cycle, have you?”
Five Pebbles is silent for just a bit too long.
Seven Stones is barely a moment away from laughing hysterically before the Iterator responds: “No, citizen, that would be entirely absurd.”
“Yes, absurd,” Mountain Ranges agrees, giving Seven Stones an incredulous look.
“And impossible.”
“Indeed, Iterators are built to be unbeholden to the cycle, Head Administrator,” Mountain Ranges scoffs. “Truly, have you gone mad?”
“No,” Seven Stones says tiredly. “Just covering all our bases.”
Mountain Ranges continues, “Iterators cannot even die.”
“Well,” Five Pebbles interrupts, “We can.”
“Old age will get them eventually, no doubt.” Seven Stones nods.
“Even so,” Mountain Ranges sniffs, “The cycle doesn’t work like that.”
“No, it shouldn’t,” says Five Pebbles, far drier than his past agreements.
“Shouldn’t?” Seven Stones narrows his eyes.
“Doesn’t,” Five Pebbles corrects.
Someone coughs.
“If that’s all, citizens.”
“I am not your citizen,” Mountain Ranges snaps.
“If that’s all, citizen and pest,” Five Pebbles says. “I have work to do.”
The call cuts, and Seven Stones makes a note to himself to research the price of void fluid baths.
***
[LIVE BROADCAST] CLOSED GROUP - [LTTMLOCALGROUP] Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment, Chasing Wind, Unparalleled Innocence, Five Pebbles
NSH: What do you think would happen if I gave vultures laser sights?
FP: That was you?
NSH: What?
FP: Harassment, If I find laser-afflicted vultures near my can in the future, I will not be happy.
NSH: Aw, live a little!
NSH: The regular vulture has been at the top of the food chain for too long. We have to shake it up sometime.
NSH: Also, Pebbles, what was that?
UI: And you think lasers will help?
NSH: I was thinking just laser sights, but maybe you’re onto something, Innocence.
NSH: And don’t ignore me, Pebbles!
UI: Don’t implicate me in this!!
BSM: Rather lively in here…
CW: I was going to lurk, but I think I have to draw the line at laser vultures.
NSH: What if I crossed one with a miros bird?
FP: Do not.
NSH: Stick in the mud. Also, hey, what was that earlier?
BSM: If you can keep them contained to your own facility without inconveniencing your city, then go ahead, Sig.
NSH: But that’s borderline impossible!
NSH: And Pebbles what did you mean “That Was You”
CW: Now that you mention it, Sig…
NSH: I’ve mentioned it five times!
NSH: Pebbles
NSH: Pebbles
NSH: Pebbsi
FP: Don’t call me that
NSH: Don’t dodge the question!
BSM: Be nice, Sig!
BSM: But I am also curious?
UI: Spill! Spill! Spill!
[Five Pebbles is Offline]
UI: Booooo
NSH: Seriously????
No Significant Harassment fumes for all of five seconds, before he gets an invite to a separate, private, group. He (unnecessarily) slams his puppet’s hand on the projection to accept it as quickly as possible.
[LIVE BROADCAST] CLOSED GROUP - [POORDECISIONMAKING] Five Pebbles, Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment, Seven Red Suns
FP: Apologies.
FP: I moved this out of the local group broadcast because I have little faith in Innocence’s ability to keep her mouth shut.
SRS: And I’m also here?
FP: It seemed pertinent.
NSH: To??
FP: [13 file(s) attached]
FP: My research and essay on my own experience with the cycle, along with various analyses on the karmic flux in mine and Moon’s local facility since my activation as proof, if you need it.
NSH: What
BSM: Oh, my…
SRS: …Oh!
NSH: Wait who in the void is listed as your co-author
FP: She helped.
FP: [1 image(s) attached]
NSH: Is that
NSH: A fucking
NSH: Slug