Mask of Humanity

Heaven Actual

At the centre of the Andromeda galaxy lurks the largest black hole in the Local Group, known to humanity as Andromeda M31.

M31 is not visible to most observers, possessing a gravitational pull strong enough to capture even light. Impossible to view directly, it makes its presence known through the stellar phenomenon around it; a great accretion disk of spinning gas and dust which circles M31, light years wide. This matter was unlucky enough to be captured by the gravitational pull of the supermassive black hole, and is in the final portion of its terminal journey, circling and circling like water around a galactic drain as it is drawn in to be consumed by the event horizon.

The friction of all this matter moving against itself causes it to heat until it forms plasma, glowing hotter and brighter than thousands of suns, a great band of light wrapping the cosmic engine. As the dense plasma swirls, the charged particles within it produce a magnetic field from which spring two magnetic poles, and from each pole erupts a monstrous beam of plasma, arms of heat and energy which reach for hundreds of light years into space.

For those viewing in the lens of the mundane, this is all that may be seen. M31 is light and darkness together, a grasping maw at the centre of the Andromeda galaxy.

But were it to be observed by one with power enough to pierce through the weaves of reality-bending illusions extending for hundreds of light years around it, something infinitely more dangerous than the largest black hole in the galaxy would be found.

Such an individual would see a shimmering golden light wrapping around the accretion disk, around the black hole, leaving only two spaces on the poles where the plasma vents are allowed exit.

It is M31, but it is also far, far more. It is one whole, singular being, the greatest Spiritual Stellar Engine in the Material.

It is called Heaven.

At this moment Heaven moves like a sea in storm. Great waves of gold surge and crash, shapes spawning from the stuff of it as a solar flare would from a sun, but rather than vents of solar plasma they form a myriad of strange, dream-like shapes.

Weapons, instruments, plants, faces, animals, buildings, all briefly form in gold on its surface, then collapse back into it, the fading crest of a wave.

Peering deeper, piercing just one more of the endless layers of illusion, threads of gold become visible. Billions of wires emerging from Heaven and reaching out into space, some larger or smaller than others, some darker or brighter, some more or less active.

One of them extends in the direction of the Andromeda’s sister galaxy, the Milky Way.

This one is slender, yet its light rapidly darkens and brightens whilst its surface shivers and twists, highly active.

It penetrates through the vast distances between Heaven and the Milky Way, a golden wire reaching across millions of light years.

Finally, it ends in a distant point which worms ever forward towards a solar system where there waits a planet named Earth.

Earth, Year 2493

New London, Western Corporate Coastline

A camera affixed to a metal strut panned slowly to the right, monitoring the state of the Over-City, rattling slightly in the wind.

Through its lens the watcher saw the skies seething above, endless layers of storm clouds hurling down a spiteful deluge of snow. This snow was whipped into shape by blasting wind, formed into hundreds of screaming hurricanes, great white funnels wrapped by spasming shawls of lightning. All the world for hundreds of miles around the city was the same, as though the storm sought to destroy every vestige of life it found.

The storm clustered especially thick around the city itself, this stronghold of humanity, taking on the role of a natural army, sent to war against the race which had wrought such destruction upon their planet.

The city took little notice of the inclement weather.

It was composed of gigantic concrete towers, mountain-like in scope, formed into tight ranks which speared up into the angry skies and shrugged off their fury with a mesh of overhanging steel and concrete rooftops. The hurricane winds were unable to gain any grip on smooth walls, instead being carefully directed by curves into large openings where their energy was harvested by wind turbines. Metal struts caught grasping lightning and drank the storm’s power. Driving snow was trapped by ripples in the heated rooftops, melted till it became water running in artificial rivers down drains to be used. All of it fuel for the hungry city of New London.

An especially powerful blast of wind caused the camera’s strut to judder, rattling the watchers point of view.

Another beautiful day, thought Nicolai, before the Governor cut his connection to the StormsEye Public Broadcast and his awareness returned to the interior of Zero-Twelve, the multi-ton killing machine he was a part of. There were lengthy technical descriptors for beings like Zero-Twelve, but most people just called them killbots.

The Governor, overlord of Zero-Twelve’s composite mind, had been giving the brief and Nicolai hadn’t been paying the proper amount of attention. He could sense the other Modules leaning away from him, acting all innocence and displaying rapt attention to the Governor’s words, as though they hadn’t been watching the StormsEye feed over his figurative shoulder.

Human Resources Module, it snapped at him. Please explain the plan to us.

The Governor always called him by his proper name in the internal hierarchy, Human Resources Module. Instead of visualising the Governor as it actually was, a weighty chunk of highly advanced hardware, Nicolai imagined the Governor to be a tall, stern, official type, with a bushy moustache that grew or shrunk depending on how annoyed it was. Right now that moustache was big enough that, had it been real, the Governor would have struggled to fit into the metal containment unit their bulky form resided within.

Nicolai wasn’t able to throw a sloppy salute, being little more than a scarred brain peppered with implants. But with some creative coding he managed to give the impression of such a movement in his reply to the Governor.

We are being transported in a GRECKON PMC VTOL towards the Primary Target, one: Claire Del Brugnie, who according to latest info will be accompanied by the Secondary Targets, four: Joan Del Brugnie, Karl Del Brugnie, Karen Del Brugnie, Isaac Del Brugnie.

They are at sector twelve, level nine, block E, Poseidon Tower, floor eleven: Del Brugnie interior mansion. Once the VTOL has launched us at Poseidon Tower we will utilise the garish golden horse statue on its roof to cover ourselves whilst we make our descent, then infiltrate the tower, reach the Del Brugnie interior mansion, and kill the Targets.

If our sources are accurate, then the Targets are not expecting an attack and will be lightly defended. No complications are expected.

Nicolai imagined what he said as spoken word, but in truth it was transmitted as a near-instantaneous stream of code to the Governor and the other Modules. Likewise, the Governor communicated to him with similar streams of code that were quite unlike words, but Nicolai’s brain and the hardware that formed a synthetic web around it transformed the code into something he could more naturally comprehend.

While the Governor mulled his statement over, taking its time, the Legal Module, which Nicolai imagined as a ratty little creature, pulled at its attention.

Corporate has decreed we only refer to the removal of Targets with words and phrases such as; remove, disable, grant-peace-to, rather than “kill,” it said, ensuring its message reached Nicolai as well as the Governor.

If Nicolai had possessed eyes, he would have rolled them.

“Kill” can be misconstrued and recent surveys indicate its usage paints GRECKON assets as “cold and uncaring,” Legal burbled, for example—

Yes, fine, said the Governor, shaking Legal off then broadcasting to all of them, its tone, if the code could be said to have a tone, coming across as stern and serious. Remain focused, keep the channels clear, do your jobs. The same statement it made at the start of every mission, ever since a job where they’d spent significant time monitoring a virtual cinematic environment. Nicolai was pretty sure it had been inspired by a commander in an old war movie they’d watched. It released the lock it had placed Nicolai in, and he regained his typical level of access to the rest of Zero-Twelve.

He immediately utilised this freedom by sending an offensive depiction of Legal to the Threat Analysis and Cyberwarfare Modules, who replied with coded smirks and began to commiserate, but they all felt the glower of the Governor and quieted down.

Closing with Poseidon Tower, preparing for launch, stated the Aiming Module, which was taking a leading role for this stage of the operation. There was a sense of charged anticipation as Nicolai and the other Modules clustered around the sensory information the VTOL AI was feeding them, viewing the world outside, one writhing, glittering layer of the endless city. Not far off, the Target, Poseidon tower, was visible. Their body emerged from the containment unit, slithered through the internals of the VTOL and was loaded into the launching port, then the Aiming Module briefly communicated with the VTOL AI, calculating the launch. This process—normally a smooth and mutually respectful one—developed a degree of animosity when the VTOL AI dared to question the Aiming Module's calculations, claiming it had arrived at a more optimal solution. This VTOL AI transpired to be unusually obstinate, sticking to its calculations, overruling the Aiming Module and initiating the launch.

Nicolai and the other Modules tended to be somewhat unruly and divisive. But when one of them was questioned and overruled by a lesser AI, this division vanished instantly.

They all fused together into one, becoming Zero-Twelve in truth. Led by the Governor, Cyberwarfare, and Aiming, they overwhelmed the VTOL AI in a millisecond and attempted to re-calibrate the launch. Unfortunately, it was already in progress and they weren’t able to completely fix matters before—

There was a blast and a flare of pressurised gas as Zero-Twelve burst from the VTOL’s forward launching port, spat into the air to arc over neon-lit buildings and snaking lines of airborne traffic.

The slew of angry code the Aiming Module released was transformed by Nicolai’s mind into a barrage of profanities.

The Governor quickly calmed them, redirecting their focus forward. They were in the air now. There was no point ruminating on what had happened. The mental fusion tightened as they worked together.

Part of Zero-Twelve’s focus was on its scanners and sensors and connections, invisible tendrils of information which stretched out to investigate the tower it was hurtling towards, as well as monitoring nearby traffic and buildings for threats. Another part was focused on double-checking the effectiveness of the cloaking and anti-scanning technology which wrapped its body, and the rest was busy simulating its route through the air to the target, trying to work out how far they would deviate from their planned landing.

Nicolai and the other Modules saw the world through dozens of cameras spread over their body, each one tiny yet able to comprehend far more than the human eye. However, Zero-Twelve tended to do its most focused observation with its twelve primary cameras, four on its head, two to each of its four gun-limbs. The majority of these cameras were now fixed on the tower ahead.

The killbot was curled into a foetal ball, gun-limbs wrapping it, allowing its cloaking technology to work at maximum effectiveness, and it had reached the tip of its arc and begun to plummet down towards the statue of a golden horse, frozen mid-rear, which crowned the tower below it.

The sensors and cameras covering Zero-Twelve squirmed and the Modules dedicated to the task ran hot as they analysed the route.

The Simulations Module declared that they were very slightly off-target, a finding which was met by an internal groan, most especially from the Aiming Module.

Their planned route was a very specific path over the horse, one designed to utilise its shape for the maximum amount of cover from the four scanning arrays atop the tower, devices which were designed to detect things like Zero-Twelve. Zero-Twelve’s cloaking technology prevented the arrays detecting it so long as it remained in its ball-shape, but as soon as it opened up, its cloaking would no longer function at one-hundred percent.

If its course had been perfect it would have been blocked completely from three of the scanners by skimming by the horse, almost touching it and using its bulk as cover. It was now not only going to touch the horse, it would also crash into it and be sent spinning.

Nicolai and the other Modules considered the situation. They would need to open early, meaning they would broadcast small signs of their presence to the one array which would have a sight-line on them for slightly longer than had been planned.

The Governor reviewed the solutions presented by the various Modules. Nicolai felt there wasn’t much to be done except to move fast and hope for the best. The Movement Module had come to a similar conclusion, though it presented this in a significantly more detailed fashion. The Aiming Module took a break from its fit of fury to agree with them.

Below them, on one corner of the roof, the array continued to send out its scans, as of yet unaware of them. The killbot’s drop through the air continued and then all of a sudden, it arrived.