Mask of Humanity

After a moment, Nicolai opted to ask the robed being the obvious question.

‘What is the Great Game?’ He spoke the words slowly, taking care, sounding them out. His mouth felt heavy, like he was chewing the words, and he disliked how slowly he was forced to speak. Though he mangled the words a little, he recognised the sound of his ancient voice, one he’d thought long dead. An even tone with little accent, and what accent there was shifted from word to word, hard to place.

Without waiting for the robed thing to answer, he said the same again, continuing to exercise his mouth. ‘What is the Great Game?’ This time in German, with a German accent, and he found the words came more easily. Nicolai laughed, then repeated the question once more, now in Russian with a matching accent. Trying out his voice, loosening it up.

He spoke many languages and had been adept at altering his accent to sound as though he came from any place of his choosing. A skill that had been of great use to him prior to his slavery as a Module within Zero-Twelve, and one which he could sense was still available to him—if he could only shake off the rust.

Unfortunately, many of those accents and languages were largely dead. These days most people spoke Common, a fusion of English, Mandarin, Hindi, French and Spanish, with a lean on one of those five depending on where the speaker was from. It was a strange and often clashing language, one which Nicolai had always disliked. But global linguistic trends didn’t care about his opinion and so, everyone spoke it.

He looked up at the robed figure, realising it had not replied. As soon as his eyes touched its face it began to speak.

The Great Game is a chance for lesser beings to Ascend.

‘What if—‘ began Nicolai.

Participation in the Great Game is mandatory.

He waited a moment then spoke again. ‘What does it mean, to ascend?

Come here and grasp my hand, it said, taking a step forward and extending its arm, looming over him.

Nicolai pushed himself rapidly backwards, sliding on his ass over the grass, and he eyed that hand, the suspicion and paranoia that had kept him alive for centuries ripping its way out of his subconsciousness, sensing that it was needed once more as it mingled with the other restored parts of him. The robed figure’s hand looked like his hand, four fingers and a thumb, but its skin was different, pure white and with an odd texture, more like marble than flesh.

‘What do you mean by lesser beings?’ he asked absently, but didn’t give it time to answer, his paranoia pushing the more pressing question from between his lips. ‘Why do you want me to touch your hand?’

The robed figure stood there, face blank, utterly still. Nicolai looked at it a moment longer, his gaze flicking to its extended hand, hovering above him, back to its face, back to the hand. There was no wind, he realised, no sound but his breathing. The world around him seemed very quiet and empty.

He could all too clearly imagine what Threat Analysis would say about that hand. Very Dangerous, Do Not Trust. He snorted and smirked, then winced, the thought of Threat Analysis causing a painful little throb in his chest. It seemed there was little point in asking questions, and he was increasingly sure that he had no choice in this matter.

But, it was worth investigating and making sure. He pushed and slid a little further away from the robed figure, then snapped to his feet, watching it carefully. Nicolai smiled again as he felt the ground beneath him and the mobility and energy and unrestrained freedom of his body.

To move and to act as he wished, it was a dream he’d thought entirely out of reach, an impossibility, but now the dream had appeared out of nowhere, grabbed him and taken him with it. Even now he felt as though in a kind of haze, a surreality and disconnection distinct from what he was experiencing in physical reality.

He was free.

Alas, right now that freedom was limited to exploring the small island and talking to his strange robed companion. There was a space of about five metres between him and any edge. Beyond, there was nothing but empty white. Nicolai walked slowly towards the edge, and after a few steps he stumbled and fell, his legs tangling for no apparent reason. He experienced a spike of fury which he shoved back down as he rose and continued his more cautious approach, wary of accidentally toppling over.

Peering over he saw the same empty white continuing below as it did everywhere else. Nowhere to go, unless he was willing to jump, and that didn’t seem a particularly good idea. He wondered what Observation would think of all this, what patterns or sights it might pick out that were beyond him. It would probably be quite disappointed by the white void but extremely interested in the flowers of the island.

Nicolai stood back before the robed figure, looking at its hand. He felt an almost physical repulsion at the thought of grasping it, his paranoia writhing within him. But there was no choice, he knew that, and as he admitted it the realisation somehow reassured him, grounded him. He was used to having no choice. Something eager and hungry lurked in his stomach, looking through him and filling his mind with the things he would do if the robed being attacked him.

Nicolai reached out and grasped the offered hand with his right palm. It felt smooth and cool and hard, like glass. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a shocking numbness rippled out from where he held it, rolling through his arm and in an instant shooting through his chest, up his neck and into his head which rang like a bell, a white shock, his vision swimming and head spinning. Nicolai stumbled away, falling to the ground as his legs crumpled beneath him and he struggled with weak arms to keep his face out of the grass, unable to stand let alone fight.

As the numbness faded the back of his right hand began to burn, and twisting it to look he saw what seemed to be liquid gold running over it, just below the skin. He gritted his teeth against the pain, his hand clenching as he stared at it. The gold shifted and coalesced into a mark, like a tattoo. It was a rough circle of gold that covered the back of his hand, and in the middle of the circle was a stylised symbol. It depicted a grand city of towers resting on a cloud, with an eye radiating light floating above.

At the same time, there was something new in his head. Something he felt unfold, some kind of hole or wire full of information, attaching itself to his consciousness. It didn’t seem physical, but it was there nonetheless, interacting directly with his mind. The part of him that had grown used to coding and communicating as a Module recognised it as running on some kind of code of its own.

Nicolai shook his head dizzily, wrestling with a sudden nausea, then the back of his hand prickled and words appeared floating in the air above it, a hologram.

User Interface 376 | User #53,217

> Map

> Cultivation

Nicolai’s worry was forgotten, curiosity and excitement returning as he gazed at the words writ in light. With his free hand, he tapped Map and the words transformed.

He wasn’t surprised to see a literal map floating over his hand, though he was disappointed by how little it showed, really no more than he’d already seen. An endless empty white with a single spot drawn out in the centre. Nicolai instinctively moved to operate it as he would a map on a touch tablet, placing two fingers against the intangible screen and spreading them.

It worked, and zooming closer he saw the spot was the island he stood on, and in the centre of the island was a little blue dot labelled “You.” He panned out and it just showed the island growing smaller and smaller as white space expanded all around it. After a moment he found an icon that returned the layout to the original, and he tapped on the other menu, Cultivation.

Alas this one showed him even less, simply a blank square of light with the words Player does not possess any recognisable internal system in the centre.

Nicolai pushed at what he felt in his head next, mental fingers caressing it as a master thief might caress a lock, seeing if he could weasel out further functions or hidden menus. Seconds turned into minutes which grouped by the dozens, but—other than working out a few hand-movement based controls—he found no success. It was seamlessly built in a way alien to human code.

Had Cyberwarfare been with him, he could easily imagine the Module would have been incapable of leaving it alone, and may well have found success where he had failed. But Cyberwarfare was gone.

With a flick of his wrist Nicolai dismissed the hologram, opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, glorying once more in the sensations of his body as his mind returned to the present. He took a deep breath and began to smile only to see the robed figure staring down at him.

Nicolai sensed it preparing for something. His wariness returned in a rush and in an instant he levered himself off the ground to stand before it, ready for whatever might come.

The robed figure tracked him as he stood. Requesting Seed, it said, and something pulsed.

Nicolai’s skin itched, the air around him growing heavier, hissing and pressing as though alive.

His gaze was pulled to one side of the island where space twisted, opened up, and he saw something in a dark place, vast and writhing, shining and silver, staring right at him, and he felt it latch onto his mind and squeeze through his body and taste him and know him and his mouth was bitter and his left eye stopped working and he was mumbling something and he held out his hand and something was placed into it LOOK AFTER MY CHILD and it was over.

Nicolai gasped in an explosive breath of air and stumbled, dizzy and reeling, his heart pounding, legs shaking, and he felt as though he were an ant, a deeply uneasy ant. He fell and almost as though by instinct he clutched tight around the thing in his hand, knowing that it was important, knowing that he had to look after it. But just then all he could do was hold his hands to the side as he choked and vomited pale, burning bile until his spasming stomach was empty.

Curled up in the grass, sucking in rasping breaths, Nicolai held his hands before him and peeled the cage of his fingers open.

Peering up at him was a tiny worm-like creature, less than half the size of one of his pinkie fingers, glimmering with a faint light. Nicolai rose to a sitting position, hunched over as he lifted his palms to stare at it.

The thing was questing slowly around on his palm, and where it touched his skin he felt it as a faint cold. At first he thought it was roughly skin-coloured though a little paler than he, but after looking a little longer he realised it was mostly see-through, and he was just seeing the shade of his skin beneath it.

So far as he could see, it had no eyes, mouth, or anything else. It was no more than a tiny semi-transparent worm crawling around on his palm.

It wasn’t something he’d have expected to feel much kinship with, let alone a bond, but as he puzzled over the smile on his face and the warmth in his chest, he realised that was exactly what he felt. A sense of love and attachment, an urge to protect, washing over him whenever he looked at the worm. Sensations that were practically unknown to him. Strange. Very strange.

In accordance with Heaven’s Law, unsouled sentients are granted a complimentary Soul Seed. Looking up, Nicolai saw the robed figure’s head was twisted towards him, its mouth moving. If lost, no replacement will be given. You must feed the Seed. You must bond with the Seed. When it is strong enough, take it into yourself.

It stopped and Nicolai stared at it, waiting for it to explain.

Your Mark allows you to Examine objects and beings, so long as you are able to touch them, it droned instead. Touch me, and wish to Examine me. It extended a limp hand.

Once again Nicolai felt there was little choice, so he stepped forwards and poked the robed being on the arm with his hand where the Mark glittered, thinking examine. His Mark shifted, gold rippling under his skin then rapidly extending through his fingers in a fleeting touch against the pale arm. As the gold retracted, a hologram popped up again over the back of his hand, presenting fresh words.

Tutorial Guide

An extension of Heaven, here to prepare new Players for entrance to the Great Game.

The Tutorial Guide started speaking again as soon as he’d finished reading.

You have completed the Tutorial.

You will now be transported to Nightmare.

Session end.

The Tutorial Guide froze in place with those last words, and it began to fade, turning transparent. In only moments it was gone.

Nicolai stared at where it had stood, a little taken aback. Is that it?

The island he stood on shimmered then it exploded into motes of lights and his stomach flipped as gravity seized him.

‘Oh,’ the word burst from his mouth, a little mew of surprise. ‘Shit.’ He scrunched his eyes as he fell through the light then he burst out the bottom and found himself plummeting through the white void, his fall rapidly speeding until the wind screamed in his ears and squeezed his face. He grit his teeth and kept his lips tightly closed as his cheeks shook, and he half closed his eyes and held his hands with the Seed tight against his body.

He found himself adopting a pose learned long ago in rote practice, days spent jumping out of planes, working to take control of his fall. But just as he had begun to sort his thoughts he saw a shimmer of golden light which rose up and grabbed him and he was surrounded by darkness and his body lurched and hung frozen for an infinite moment.