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(AS) B3 - Lesson 1: "Don't Be Afraid To Talk To Yourself."
🕑 Added 2025-01-23 04:36:00 +0000 UTCWithin the featureless expanse of a stark white void, a large round table dominated the space. Suspended above it, dozens of screens flickered, each playing fragments of events from the past few months. The screens shifted constantly, showing a thousand perspectives simultaneously — a chaotic mosaic of surveillance, strategy, and history.
One by one, figures materialized around the table. Eight TAWPs emerged from nothingness, their mechanical, beetle-like forms gleaming in the void’s harsh, ambient glow. They stood silent and still, their armored carapaces reflecting the flickering images above.
Seconds stretched into a tense quiet before one of the TAWPs leaned toward its neighbor, breaking the silence with a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Is he really going to make us wait again?”
The neighbor shrugged, its optical plate swiveling lazily. “You know how Prime is — always needs a dramatic entrance.”
A third TAWP, seated directly across, tilted its sensor array toward a floating clock. “Maybe we got the time wrong. Did anyone confirm the meeting with him?”
A fourth threw up its front limbs in exasperation. “We’re the same person!” it snapped, its voice cracking with irritation.
The table erupted into a cacophony of overlapping complaints and snide remarks, the mechanical chorus growing louder with every second.
A soft bloop cut through the noise, silencing the group instantly. A ninth figure materialized at the table, occupying the last empty space. The TAWP appeared facing away from the group, deliberately slow as it turned to face them.
The newcomer adjusted a corncob pipe taped to its optical plate and tipped the brim of a peaked cap embroidered with a fearsome war duck at its center.
“Good morning, gentlemen!” boomed Prime, his voice carrying the crisp authority of a commanding officer.
“Good morning!” the others chorused, their tones perfectly synchronized.
Prime swept a limb through the air, and the screens above blinked off simultaneously, plunging the void into a sharper stillness. “It’s time for our periodic project review!” he declared, his enthusiasm almost palpable.
“…We haven’t done one of these in months,” one TAWP muttered.
Its neighbor promptly jabbed it in the side with a mechanical limb. “Shut up,” it hissed.
Prime ignored the interruption, gesturing grandly toward the two TAWPs seated to his left. Both wore oversized white lab coats — one labeled Research and the other Development.
“R&D! Give us the good news!” Prime commanded, pointing a limb at the pair.
The twin TAWPs exchanged a glance, their optical plates flickering in unison. Research reached up and tapped one of the now-blank screens, bringing it to life. Instantly, dozens of graphs, schematics, and images cascaded across the void, a visual symphony of data.
“Progress has been exceptional,” Research began, its voice steady and precise. “Thanks to the arrayed [Wasp] drone, Jīshí’s book, and Garrelt’s insights, we’ve made tremendous strides in decoding the array system. We’ve also resolved several… embarrassing misconceptions.”
“Oh?” Prime tilted his optical plate, curiosity clear in his posture. “What sort of misconceptions?”
Research swiped away several graphs, enlarging a specific image — a refined version of the energy-cycling array Alpha had first devised in the Radiant Sea. Its intricate structure shimmered with countless sigils, interconnected like the strands of an intricate web.
“Initially, we treated sigils as simple conduits — pathways for Spirit Energy to flow,” Research explained. “We assumed these arrays functioned like machines, with each sigil acting as a component in a greater mechanism.”
Prime’s pipe bobbed as he adjusted its position. “And they don’t?”
“They do,” Research confirmed, “but they’re more than that.”
The sigils rearranged themselves across the screen with a flick of their limbs. More sigils appeared, forming three distinct yet interconnected grids. Even a cursory glance revealed their similarities in structure and pattern.
“This looks almost like…” one TAWP murmured, leaning forward.
“…A language,” Research finished. “And that’s exactly what we believe it is. If our theory is correct, these arrays aren’t just machines. They’re instructions. A universal programming language for Spirit Energy, if you will.”
The screens shifted again, displaying overlays of sigils from different sources. “This also explains our difficulties. The arrays in Jīshí’s book and those used by the old geezer appear to be distinct dialects. By attempting to use both without proper integration, we’ve essentially been speaking to the universe in two conflicting languages.”
Prime’s optic plate spun, his attention laser-focused. “And Garrelt’s contribution?”
Research’s tone brightened. “The Adventurer’s arrays seem to act as a bridge — a more fluid, adaptable dialect that links the two seamlessly. Possibly because Halirosa itself is a larger melting pot of many different cultures. While it sacrifices some specificity, it provides the interoperability we’ve lacked. With this understanding, we’ve already improved stability and efficiency by 30%, and we’re confident there’s more to gain!”
Prime slammed a limb on the table with an audible clang. “Outstanding work!” he roared, the pipe in his optics shifting slightly.
Prime’s optic plate swiveled toward the second lab-coated TAWP. “Development! Go!”
Development sighed, the motion rippling through his segmented frame. A limb reached forward to tap a hovering screen, and in an instant, the intricate graphs and shimmering symbols were replaced by vivid images of machines, sleek black ants, and rows of glimmering growth tanks.
One screen surged forward and expanded, displaying a hybrid of X-ray and blueprint. Bold letters at the top declared: Alphantonso Mark-8
“Our new Mark-8 Alphantonsos are now in production,” Development announced, his tone flat but tinged with pride. The screen flickered, shifting to a view of black ant pupae being delicately maneuvered through a dimly lit tunnel by a team of antborgs. The nursery beyond pulsed faintly with the golden glow of containment fields. “Thanks to breakthroughs in alloy research, the Mark-8 models are tougher than ever, and our recent advancements in arrays have made them almost indistinguishable from the natural colony. Rejection rates are down to a mere 5%.”
“That’s excellent!” Prime exclaimed, tapping his pipe against his chassis. “What are the current numbers?”
Development swiped a limb, revealing a chart brimming with colored bars and percentages. “About 60% of the nest has been replaced with antborgs. It’s slower progress than projected due to the need to replace outdated units rejected or destroyed. However,” he added, a note of excitement creeping into his voice, “this brings me to our next milestone.”
A new image filled the screen; a large, wriggling larva, fine lines of luminous gold weaving through dark flesh. As they watched, it was silently being transported through a pre-prepared tunnel network.
“I’m thrilled to announce the completion of Project Antoinette. She’s currently en route to the nursery. According to Dr. Maria, her royal aura should naturally compel the Demon Ants to accept her. We’ve sealed the nursery from natural ants until she acclimates, but if all goes well, she’ll mature within two to four months. In six months, she should start producing natural antborgs.”
Prime nodded, his optic plate flickering with approval. “Perfect. Keep me updated on her status. A lot hinges on her success.”
He swiveled to the TAWP on his right. “Construction. What’s the update?”
The yellow-vested TAWP adjusted his hard hat before gesturing to the screen. Images of cavernous tunnels and the vast expanse of the Dragon’s Garden replaced the antborg visuals.
“The dungeon walls are 80% complete,” Construction reported. “The layout still needs time, but the first three rings should be ready for goblins and expedition parties once Icefinger’s crew is handled.”
Prime’s optic plate brightened momentarily. “Good, good.”
Another gesture and the view shifted to sprawling tunnels branching toward a second nest.
“We’ve begun building into the termite nest,” Construction continued. “The plan is to isolate it completely, preventing breaches while setting up harvesting facilities in the buffer zones. It’ll take time before Adventurers can access these areas, but it’s best to stay ahead.”
Having nothing left to say, Construction folded his front limbs and moved away from the table. Chatter broke out among the TAWP as they discussed potential uses for the new real estate. Prime let them talk for a while.
Satisfied, Prime nodded. “Solid progress. Loot Goblin! You’re next!”
All optics turned to the TAWP lounging atop a glittering treasure pile.
A TAWP next to the treasure pile leaned over to his neighbor and asked, “I thought Si’dia said we had to call him ‘Resource Acquisition’?”
The other TAWP shrugged. “I don’t see her around, do you?”
The first nodded wisely, stroking an imaginary beard. “True. True.”
Coins clinked, and gems tumbled as Loot Goblin leaped up, scattering riches.
“WE’RE RICH!” he bellowed, throwing his limbs wide.
Prime tilted his chassis, unimpressed. “Go on.”
Loot Goblin gleefully tapped a screen, which shifted to the containment facility housing a colossal Kigendoro, its form sedated and encased in a shimmering energy field.
“The Kigendoro was a gold mine!” Loot Goblin practically vibrated with excitement. “The black tar mud it produces is leagues beyond anything we’ve dredged from the river. Preliminary tests suggest MUD made with this substance lasts twice as long, with far more powerful array potential.”
“That’s not even taking into account the other stuff.” The screen flickered to a warehouse scene where Dr. Maria was already working with a team of goblins to sort and categorize various scales and plates they had harvested from the Kigendoro.
“And that’s not all! The peach orchard we cultivated is thriving!” Another shift revealed glowing trees heavy with fruit. “The [Swampbreaker Ambrosia] production is driving Spirit Energy levels sky-high. We’re even seeing new species emerge in the grove. Translight costs are still high, but we expect that to go down as soon as we can plug the Kigendoro into the grid.”
“Finally,” Loot Goblin continued, not even pausing long enough for Prime to interject, “Probably the most important thing we’ve found yet!”
The screen flickered, and a single object dominated the screen.
A simple silver orb, patches of blue frost accumulating on its surface.
“Is this the… artifact… that Maggy was using?” Prime asked?
“Yes!” came Loot Goblin’s enthusiastic response.
“Have we figured out how it works? Is it something we can use?” Prime continued.
“Definitely!” Loot Goblin said.
“…And? Can we reproduce it?” Prime said with a sigh.
“Oh! No trouble there! We’ve already got half a dozen in storage!” Loot Goblin said with a vocal grin.
Prime paused for a moment. “What?”
“Ya!” responded Loot Goblin without missing a beat. “Well, ok, maybe not this, exactly. But it shouldn’t take too much more tweaking, I think.” He waved a limb, and the image of the orb deconstructed into its components.
The TAWPs around the table gasped.
“Is this…” Prime asked.
“Yup!” Loot Goblin nodded.
Though there had been obvious modifications to the device, both mechanically and with complex arrays, the deconstructed object was still registering a near 80% match to something already in their database.
Specifically, they were looking at a modified Quantum Thermal Flux Sink. A common device found on every military ship in Federation space, used to keep high-energy weapon systems from melting their way through battleships.
Loot Goblin waved a limb, and several parts of the device lit up. “Of course, this is an older model. I mean, really old. First Federation at the latest. That said, I think this is pretty clear evidence of what we’ve been suspecting for a while now…”
Prime stared up at the deconstructed device and voiced what they were all thinking.
“We aren’t the first ones on this planet.”
