Aetheral Space-Chapter 454:15.8: The Man Who Sold The World

"Once upon a time," said Erica. "There was a man called Edgar."

AETHERAL SPACE 15.8

"The Man Who Sold The World"

As Erica entered the room, she turned her head to look back at Annatrice, still lingering in the massive doorway.

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"You’re unfamiliar," she said.

Not a question, but a statement of fact. Annatrice meekly nodded, her eyes still flicking around the massive room.

"I’m not surprised," Erica continued. "The history books from the time have a preference for the gestalt. ’Humanity’ did this, and ’humanity’ did that. You can’t distinguish individual strings in a great rope -- and that’s not even counting the Supremacy’s penchant for self-mythology. They’d love for you to think that Azez and his merry band destroyed the Gene Tyrants all by their lonesome."

As Erica spoke, Annatrice tentatively entered the room. It was cold in here -- deathly cold -- and as Annatrice breathed, she could see it leave her mouth as mist. She looked at the people kneeling on the floor. How could they bear to stay here like this, not even shivering?

Erica followed Annatrice’s gaze.

"You’re curious about them," she said.

"Well," Annatrice mumbled. "I, uh…"

"They’re the finest Aether experts of the AWL…" Erica explained, not waiting for Annatrice to finish. "...in a technical sense, at least. They’re not combatants, but their understanding of the underlying mechanics are leagues beyond most. Even I have to acknowledge their existence."

As she drew closer, Annatrice could hear the kneeling figures muttering to themselves. Numbers and letters and functions, offered into their Aether and channeled along to the glass tube at the room’s heart. Was this a formula, or a prayer?

"And…" Annatrice swallowed back her anxiety. "...what are they doing?"

"Once I’ve explained Edgar to you," Erica replied. "You’ll understand what they’re doing.

"Like everyone else, Edgar was born without importance. He was the bespoke Cogitant aide of a minor Gene Tyrant, in the days before the Thousand Revolutions. Back then, it was fairly normal for Tyrants to grow their personal servants in vats. Natural reproduction was for the common stock.

People usually get this wrong, but the revolution started before Aether was discovered. The slaves were already fighting back against their masters… but, of course, they were doomed to failure. Until Edgar joined their ranks."

Erica closed her eyes, as if she could picture history happening right behind her eyelids.

"Edgar killed his Gene Tyrant creator. The reason why has been lost to time. Even I can only ask questions. Had he had enough of following their commands? Did he sympathise with those being trampled underfoot? Whatever the case, the Lady of Flies was slain, and Edgar became a rebel."

"Wait," Annatrice said. "This was really before Aether?"

"That’s right."

"But… I thought the people needed Aether to fight against the Gene Tyrants."

"If a thing lives," Erica shrugged. "It can die. It’s just a matter of difficulty. The Umbrant Hunt was triggered by Umbrants sending their master’s hijacked ship into a star, after all. I don’t know what method Edgar used… but it wasn’t Aether."

Erica turned back to the crimson tube in the center of the room, and the glaring wound within.

"Even so, the revolution was still doomed to failure -- even with all their cunning, the rebels could only do so much with conventional means. Edgar knew something had to be done. And so Edgar… acted."

The way Erica spat that last word radiated euphemism. Annatrice took a deep breath.

"What… did he do…?" she asked -- and in the back of her mind, she still wondered what this had to do with her.

Erica smiled thinly.

"Edgar stole away many futures -- and by doing so, he was able to create something. A thought engine, beyond anything that ever existed before or since. A ’machine’ that could find a path forward through that hopeless war. A herald which could beckon victory, striding across corridors of consciousness too turbulent for mortal minds.

It was called the Sapphire Star."

This, Annatrice knew -- the name ’Sapphire Star’, at least. For a time after the Sed, she had tried to research Aether herself, to understand the mechanics behind her own ability and in doing so improve it. The Sapphire Star had been mentioned in many esoteric texts.

"On Edgar’s behalf, the Sapphire Star discovered the light of the mind -- Aether -- and the Gene Tyrants were no more."

The smile faded.

"But."

"But…?" ventured Annatrice.

Erica turned to look at Annatrice directly once more -- but this time, all warmth was gone from her eyes. Instead, an eonic bitterness rumbled behind her pupils.

"Edgar had hoped that once the Gene Tyrants were vanquished, Aether would serve as the great equaliser. Power available not to the few who hoarded it for themselves, but to any with a mind with which to reach for it. He dreamed that a new world would sprout from that, without hierarchy or subordinate or superior. Peace and joy for all mankind."

Erica closed her eyes.

"Well. You’ve seen the hell we live in now. You tell me whether or not his dream came true."

"I… I guess not…"

The two of them stood there for a long moment, amidst the chanting and the darkness, barely illuminated by the bloody light of the thing in the tube. For some reason… Annatrice felt like some deep and profound sadness had poured into the chamber now. Like the ghost of an ocean now filled the room.

Still… Annatrice opened her mouth to ask again, to ask what she was doing here, what this story had to do with her, what was going on…

…but she was interrupted.

"You shouldn’t end that story halfway through, Erica del Sed," rumbled a deep and resonant voice from above. "You’ve missed the most important part."

Annatrice snapped her head up to look at the source of the sound -- and her eyes widened into saucers.

What the hell?!

There was a balcony near the ceiling of the chamber -- and on that balcony stood… a lion. There was no getting around it. That wasn’t a Scurrant: that was just an actual lion. An actual lion, with jet-black fur, and death-sharp claws, and blood-red eyes.

Those eyes narrowed as they looked down at Annatrice.

"Why have you brought her here, Erica?" The lion’s mouth didn’t move, but those words undoubtedly came from it.

"We had an agreement, Blackmane," Erica said calmly, looking up at the beast with her hands in the pockets of her tracksuit. "In exchange for my participation, you provide assistance in reuniting the children of the Sed."

"Indeed," the lion -- Blackmane, apparently -- rumbled. "And yet… why is she here?"

"I’m telling her the truth, and showing her the last chapter of humanity. Just as I did for all the rest. I would be unhappy if that was a problem."

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Up on his balcony, Blackmane narrowed his red eyes even further.

Hmph. Liar.

The lion turned its attention to Annatrice directly, and she felt herself shrink away from its bloody gaze. There was something about those eyes… not just the eerie colour, or the way they gleamed in the dark… but the way they seemed to see straight through you.

"Um," breathed Annatrice. "I-I…"

"Yes?" Blackmane cocked his massive head slightly. "What is it, child?"

"Why are you a lion?"

"That’s not important."

"Oh. O-Okay."

"Erica speaks true," Blackmane growled, glancing at Erica once again. "What we are constructing here is the solution to every remaining problem. Perhaps it’s fortuitous I interrupted when I did -- we’ve reached the point in the story where my expertise begins. May I, Erica?"

"You may."

"Listen well, then, child," Blackmane said. "Edgar sired not one miracle, but two. Aether, with which to uproot the evil squirming above the world… and a second, with which to set the new garden into the most harmonious alignment. To achieve his dream: ’peace and joy for all mankind’."

Annatrice’s eyes flicked between Erica and Blackmane. If her trepidation bothered the lion any, he didn’t show it -- he just continued to speak, voice echoing throughout the room, like a priest at his sermon.

"Most of those Edgar had revealed his Aether to chose to develop their lights of the mind into engines of destruction and weapons of war. Even his own vat-brother, Zarakhel the Blindman, used it to develop the Spears of Stillness -- honed by his singular hatred. But Edgar alone possessed foresight beyond that of the common man. Edgar understood that the world was still… wrong."

The last word lingered in the air like a curse.

"The shape of this world… is a shape of barbed wire and flayed skin. A neverending vortex of torturing and being tortured, of taking and being taken from. A spiral with no end. Supremacy, UAP, Final Church… all of it is meaningless. So long as people behave like they always have, think like they always have… the shape of this world will never change."

Blackmane closed his eyes, and his next words were solemn.

"...and the sickness of a species is not something that can be cured by a single doctor, no matter how adept."

It was only when Blackmane finally stopped speaking for a moment that the calculations of the masked men once again became audible. Annatrice shivered among the numberwork. Taking a step forward, she looked up at the dark beast.

"What is it?" she demanded with courage she didn’t possess. "T-These people, what are they doing?"

"They are weaving the third miracle," Blackmane snapped angrily. "But to understand it, you must understand the second. Shut your mouth and listen, girl!"

Annatrice’s false bravery died in her throat, and she took a quick step back, silence snapped back into her.

"Careful," Erica said mildly.

Blackmane’s eyes flicked towards Erica for a moment -- and it was only when he had taken a deep breath to calm himself that he resumed speaking.

"Edgar chose his Aether ability with a mind for the future, and nothing else. He created an intelligence from his Aether, a faux-mind that could reason and adapt and plan. He gave it the ability to be passed to another, on and on and on, so that it may straddle the ages long after its creator became dust. He set it upon a quest to observe the mechanics of humanity, put together the necessary pieces, and enact the ultimate mission:

"Peace and joy for all mankind."

Blackmane let out a shuddering breath, as if he were on the verge of revelation.

"And he called it the Prince."

"Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince. Prince."

Annatrice shuddered as she realized the speaking around her had changed. The numbers and letters and functions were gone, replaced by that single word, over and over again… as if pleading with it to appear before them. She had to wonder again: was this formula, or was this prayer?

And… she had to ask again…

"What does this have to do with me?" she said, as loudly as she dared -- and that wasn’t very loud at all.

All the same, the lion heard her, and the lion answered.

"For a thousand years, the Prince has slithered across the galaxy. The Supremacy, the Unified Alliance of Planets, The Final Church, Pandaemonium, the Great Chain… it has observed and measured our world from all perspectives. And yet… it has been arranging its dominoes for a thousand years now, and it will continue to arrange them for a billion more. Do you know why?"

Annatrice opened her mouth to answer --

"You know she doesn’t," Erica said. "Explain it to her."

-- but was interrupted before she could do so.

The thing was… she felt like she did understand. With the way it had been laid out before her, she could take a guess, at least. That mission: that ’peace and joy for all mankind’ thing. Well, to be blunt, it sounded to her like…

"It is impossible," Blackmane completed the thought. "Edgar’s one flaw was his idealism. It is impossible for all humans to be happy, and it is impossible for all humans to live in peace. So long as two humans exist, they shall find reason to destroy one another. When one human achieves happiness, it will be at the expense of another. The Prince will continue gathering data forever, as the solution to the problem it has been presented with simply does not exist."

"This Prince thing," Annatrice ventured, holding onto her own arm like a safety net. "T-The way you’re talking… it still exists? Even right now, it exists?"

"Of course it does," Blackmane rumbled. "If you need proof of that… you need simply look at the Sed below us."

Annatrice’s heart skipped a beat.

Annatrice’s mouth suddenly felt dry.

Annatrice’s eyes widened until they felt like they’d pop out onto the floor.

"What?" she asked -- but she couldn’t even hear her own voice over the thumping in her ears.

"It’s like I said before, Annatrice," Erica said, crossing her arms. "The story we were fed… the development of artificial Cogitants… all of that was nonsense."

She turned to look at Annatrice, and for the first time the girl saw a burning resentment deep within Erica del Sed’s eyes.

"The true purpose of the Sed…" she hissed. "...was to create the Prince’s next host."

Annatrice said nothing.

"It was thought that a non-standard mental architecture would allow the Prince to operate more efficiently. For it to… express itself more directly."

Annatrice said nothing.

"For that purpose, we were trained."

Annatrice said nothing.

"Everything that happened here…"

Annatrice…

"...all of it…"

Annatrice…

"...was for the sake of the Prince."

Annatrice collapsed to the floor, and Erica finished speaking without glancing at the girl who had fainted.

"It can’t have all been for nothing."

"I don’t think the girl can hear you anymore," Blackmane pondered. "You broke it to her rather harshly, in my opinion."

"It’s a harsh world. I decided it was for the best to explain it to her that way. Therefore, it was for the best."

Blackmane huffed, returning his gaze to the crimson wound in the tube.

"All the same," he said. "It’s a pity. I wasn’t even able to finish explaining the last part."

Indeed, it was as Blackmane had said. The mission of the Prince -- ’peace and joy for all mankind’ -- was far too idealistic. It wasn’t something that a single entity could accomplish, no matter the knowledge or resources at their disposal.

Therefore, their third miracle had a much simpler -- and much more necessary -- order.

’For the survival of humanity’.

Within the tube at the center of the room, the nascent Prince-Regent pulsed. Just a little more. Just a little more struggle, and that rough beast would slouch forth, its hour come round at last to be born.

Suddenly, the room rumbled. The chanting didn’t stop, but Blackmane glanced at the console before him.

"A pirate vessel," he mused. "It seems they noticed our friends coming down here and thought they’d found easy pickings. Poor things."

"That’s fantastic news," Erica said -- her earlier tension gone in an instant. "Get LYCHGATE ready -- I’ll head down to harvest them in a few minutes."

"So soon? Is the suffering of minor pirates so valuable? Unseasoned by Only I, I can’t imagine there’ll be much to speak of there."

Erica shrugged, looking up at the shining Prince-Regent.

"When you’re educating a god…" she said. "Every little helps."