Brent Stinebaker
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34-8 Still Bleeds the Wound
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 17:08:32 +0000 UTCOf all the guilds that have tried to create a human-analogous mind, the only ones that have ever truly come close to succeeding were Ori-Thaum and The Sang. We're discounting Voidwatch right now because, though they are a guild in name, they functionally do not participate in the greatest mutual gathering of our age, which is the Guild Wars. I am being very glib right now.
The No-Draongs are an interesting case. Though they do not investigate the Necrotheurgic constructs to create simulated minds from thought and memory, they are no less masters of cognitive biology. For no one else—once again aside from Voidwatch—has delved into the physical makeup of a brain as much as The Sang have, created creatures meant to exemplify various levels of intelligence, or tweaked the intellectual capacity for certain bioforms to such a degree. It is their unique bloodline, their tethering to time, that allows them to exploit biology by all accounts further than their contemporaries.
The most interesting achievement manifested by The No-Dragons is the Exomaths—literal organisms constructed to be cognitive boosters, augmenters of such a supercapacity that it allows them to contend with their rivals who have superior material sciences. Ultimately, there is nothing truly spectacular or unique about human intelligence. It is seemingly a development meant to our benefit, and then evolved beyond its original capacity. If you observe some adjustments made to an octopus's mind, then it too can showcase inklings of sapience. The same holds true for spiders or dogs.
Right now, The No-Dragons are mostly modeling and grafting human minds onto animal ones, creating a sort of merged intellect. It is a sort of “organic scaling” on display for intelligence. The outcomes sometimes are not savory, but the theories are proven. And more than that, if one has a sense of self and can conceptualize, could dream, could believe that something else is possible, then they can accept a frame. And imagine what kind of god an animal might worship. What kind of god a predator might worship. I shudder to think of what kind of god a cat might worship—for we all know, despite how adorable those little things are, within its eyes and behind its flesh lies the makeup of every tiger and every panther that once stalked its golden vest and made prey of so many scaarthians.
-Highflame Intelligence Report on Human-Intelligence Analogous Assets
34-8
Still Bleeds the Wound
“And so here we are, shadows of us after all these years.” Zein sighed as she settled into her seat. Jaus remained standing. The sight of her sinking down was unsettling. She was never one to succumb or surrender before another, not even him, but for her to do this—it was more than an indication of flagging will. It was a symbol of surrender.
Zein Thousandhand was surrendering.
Dead gods.
“I…” Zein took a deep breath. “There are many things I would like to say. Many things I should say. Perhaps an apology is due. Many apologies. Perhaps I should have told you things I’ve seen in our daughter, or… …that you should have been more cruel with certain people and more decisive with others, and perhaps… perhaps I shouldn’t have been so willing to kill some others, and…”
And now she was rambling. Jaus’s heart rate increased. Zein never rambled like this.
Jaus swallowed.
“But I think none of that matters by this point.” Zein clasped her hands together. “We are here. The wound is struck. The wound is still bleeding. And for all the time we’ve spent fighting, struggling, we never really addressed it, have we? We’ve never truly fixed things.”
Jaus looked aside. Even now, this surrender was partial. Zein didn’t want to admit her failure. It was ego that assailed her. Ego that drove her away from admission—because, ultimately, it wasn’t him she feared disappointing the most, but herself. The weapon was the symbol of her narcissism. But what she experienced right now was worse. Her glaive could not save her. Could not deliver her from the burning dream. Could not spare their daughter from that misbegotten path. Could not save him from the latter. The glaive was worthless.
A thought suddenly occurred to Jaus. He needed Zein and the Regular, Jelene Draus, to spend time together. They shared a problem, and Zein might just resemble who Draus could become with the passing of time. There weren’t exact templates to each other. But—
“Jaus,” Zein said, narrowing her eyes. “Did you, did you just realize something? You had that look.”
Jaus opened his mouth. “I—yes, I—yes.” He didn’t bother lying to her. It wasn’t easy lying to Zein Thousandhand. Also, it wasn’t that worthwhile anymore. What was the point of lying now? Where did it get him? Where did it get any of them. “I think I might be able to fix one of your problems. Not only yours… But yes, I think we need to talk.” He fell uncharacteristically silent. Irrevocably and completely silent.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jaus finally managed. “There are so many things I wish to talk about, and yet I don’t have a grasp on any of the words. The words don’t come to me.” He laughed. “I don’t know what to say. I fear that we are more alike right now than ever before.”
The Godslayer eyed her lover and, after a few beats, laid her gaze upon the table in another sign of capitulation. “What a horrible scene. My great beloved… wordless. I never wished to see such a day.”
“Well, we are both technically dead.” Jaus shrugged. “Such a shock as—”
“Please don’t rationalize this. It is humiliating enough that we are here, under the creature’s thumb.” Zein seethed weakly.
The creature. She was speaking of Avo. Of the Burning Dreamer. Jaus nodded. “Of course that is what bothers you.”
“Yes, of course that is what bothers me,” Zein snapped. “I was supposed to be able to— we were supposed to be able to turn the world around. My blade, your genius, our daughter—the culmination of all our efforts, all our gifts—and now, now look at us. We are, we are just merely mortal.
“Yes, merely mortal. Merely, especially.” She sighed deeply. “I have no issue with being mortal, but merely… it is not enough.” Her hand gripped, clawing at something, and Jaus realized she was looking for a glaive—a glaive that was missing. The very that she used to define herself—more than her flesh or mind. “It is not enough, being a mere instrument of causality. Perhaps I was deluded, but I always yearn to be more, so much more.
“I suppose everyone does in their own way,” Jaus said. “We perceive the world through our minds.”
If Zein’s glare was a blade, Jaus would have been hewn down to the atoms. “Do not speak this way. You’ve done this speech many, many times. I did not come here to retread old ground. I came here to… to…” She stared on blankly, uncertain. “I don’t know what I came here to do. I don’t have an answer. I don’t have someone to kill. I don’t have some target to defeat. I am weaponless and directionless. And you… you’ve retreated. You’re not here, talking to the delegates. You hide away in the lounge, alone. I would expect you to be leading Naeko, not the other way around.”
“I think that is our greatest mistake,” Jaus said. “That we proved to be the fulcrum of this world—the load-bearers, all the connections to the Guilds, this current architecture of the world we created. It fell over without me, without my guidance, without your hidden touch. Our daughter, we didn’t desire the same things. We brought her in, but all the time, all the while, we exposed her, we misshaped her, we designed her—for our world, and we never really even understood what world it is she perceived, what she wanted to fight for. Or truly believed in.
“I fear, I fear a failure was written into us before we even began. A failure of our egos, a failure of understanding and sympathy, because we could only ever be ourselves. Even with all the advancements in necrothergy, all the progressive scientific achievements that the Voiders granted us, we were blind. Blind to how someone else is. And so I turn away, and so I cede this ground to Neko, to the others, because I think it needs to be spread out. This dream, this thing I wanted to see complete—it couldn’t just be my dream. It couldn’t be but a thing of blind faith for the world to follow. Everyone must join, participate, and… and…”
Just then, silence fell, and neither the Godslayer nor the Savior spoke. Their eyes met, and with the faintest expressions and the most momentary of glimpses, they exchanged more than words ever could.
“Perhaps it is for the best that the Plague takes hold now,” Zein murmured. “As I had finally said, he bested me for a reason. He consumes all. He is quite the nightmarish entity—not exactly what I imagined my ideal disciple to be.”
“Your ideal disciple is Naeko,” Jaus corrected. “He remains our son. Our son in all but blood—in more than blood.”
“Correct,” Zein said. “But still, for such a creature to assume and inherit our mantle…”
“He doesn’t inherit anything,” Jaus continued. “He is taken inspiration from, perhaps. He has learned from and drawn from our wisdom, but what he does now is untethered from anything I could have imagined.”
“And that might be how things should be,” he whispered. “For ideas to evolve, for dreams to evolve, for dreams to be broken. You were more so bothered by the fact that you were not swinging the blade anymore. “At least, not this continuation of yours,” Jaus said. He leaned back, and slowly— all too slowly—a grin crept over his features, as Zein narrowed her gaze.
“What? Why are you smiling at me like that?” she asked.
“Nothing, I just… It is amusing to see you flustered.”
“Not flustered, I am frustrated.”
“Ah, yes, let’s use that word.”
“You know I can still hurt you very, very badly without a weapon.”
“Yes, but not as much as I can make you uncomfortable with my words.”
“I will go for your tongue first, my love.”
“But you so often say that’s your favorite part of me. Why would you deprive yourself of such joy.”
Her face twitched. She wore her crone-like guise now, but even still, a flicker of the puckish girl she was remained. Zein was never one to wallow. She was like napalm, a kindred to warmth. Strike her right, and she will burn bright, and burn happily.
And I will say nothing and do nothing, because I think we’re a little bit beyond idle threats now.”
Jaus settled into his chair, trying to get comfortable. “I think… I think we should be here when the children call upon us, when they need to learn or advise me. But beyond that, I think it is time for us to be people for a while. Just people. Just face each other, face our problems, and see if we can find contentment in the ordinary.”
As I laughed, it was at once a mirth-filled laugh tied to the absurd and the impressed. “Ordinary. Do you genuinely believe we could ever constitute the ordinary? We’re not. We are properly wed. We have, or had, a child that might be restored. And now we are simply facing troubles. Not exactly the typical marital troubles, but troubles that originated with us, that the world has to contend with.”
“I think… I think I am tired,” Jaus said nothing more.
After a moment, his lover agreed. “I think I am tired too, Jaus. I think perhaps you are right. Perhaps it’s time we have a talk with our child. To let him know that we will be there for them, but that we will impede them no more. We have… we failed.”
Jaus shook his head. “No, no. No, this is… As Avo said, it might just be a continuation. Now come. We have done enough for now. It is time to see what happens when another hand takes hold of the design.”
“Yeah, so that sounds about…” Zein’s eyes narrowed some more, and then suddenly widened. “Oh, right. Speaking of design… I need to talk to the Dreamer again. This will be… quite frustrating… Oh, there’s something I must remind the Dreamer of.”
“What? What’s wrong?” Jaus asked.
“Frederick Three-Eye. He’s due to return. Where Scale currently is. I… I might have pulled on his chronological pathing during the fight. Sadly, I wasn’t fast enough to make use of him.”
Jaus blinked. “Zein… how many people have you cast into the future.”
“I was never good at math, my love. Let’s just qualify it as many. I leave the exact details to the Plague. A final act of revenge on my part.”
***
—[Avo, The Hidden Flame]—
The fall of Noloth and the collapse of the Nether proved to be a blessing in many ways. For one, the reunion between the mind and the will made greeting nodes so much easier. Previously, the separation of one’s capacity to believe—to even choose—towards self-determination was stripped, and thus all the founds and depths that fed a soul were hollow in terms of knowledge. Ghosts, meanwhile, were hollow in direction, mere things to be wielded by a self-aware entity.
Now, however, as Soulfire was bound to ghosts, Avo tested them, accelerated them through simulation after simulation, teaching them, and slowly grew them. From the center of these new burning ghosts pulsed swelling dots—budding sphere just like that which occurred under the conditions of Hysteria.
The new experimental templates he just generated were becoming self aware.
[Yes!] Peace cheered. [Fuck yes! They’re… they’re aware! I can be aware! I can be myself again!]
[Incredible,] Kae breathed.
With stabilization achieved, Avo released the first of his merged ghost-soul consciousnesses, and a chorus of cheers erupted.
He brought in the Wallfacers of Old Noloth, some drawn from the sanctuary hidden within Drowse, others extracted from those the Woundmother was protecting. They stood, joined in song, offering their own understanding and perspectives to the process. The cadre, meanwhile, stared on just before the massive locus, their faces lit by awe, confusion, or general indifference.
“It is done,” Avo said. “The first part of the process is underway.”
“So, these things—they’ve got intelligences? They’re self-aware?” Naeko frowned at the undulating strings. Sure, they had accretions lining their exterior, but ultimately, they didn’t exhibit or resemble any intelligent lifeforms Chief Paladin had ever encountered.
That was because they weren’t like any other lifeform. They were created from simulations, and bred from Avo himself. Not the earliest iteration of his ego, but that which existed between. The assimilator after the ghoul, so to speak, deprived of biofeedback or predatory evolutionary impulse. This made them something between alien and hyper-sympathetic, and more importantly, allowed them to be good symbiotes when attached to another mind.
“Derived from my current intelligence,” Avo said, “I’m going to attach them to your exo-cortexes. It allows them to burn. To maintain the Conflagration without actually affecting your biological parts. With that, you will have an instance of me alongside you, paired but separated, and the Amni-tech should keep it separated and warded from our exterior perception. Layers of separation. Ensures you can operate and even if I am disabled.”
“All right,” Chambers said. “So, just like you got a little bit of me inside of you, I’m going to get a bit of you inside of me.” A dirty grin spread across his face. “That makes me think of something—”
“If you’re going to make an ass-fucking joke, I’m going to shoot you, Chambers,” Draus said. However, Shotin let out a stifled chuckle, and the folded over slightly. Chambers shot the shaking Shotin two thumbs up and Draus let out a groan. “God damn it, Seeker. What the hells is wrong with you? Why are you encouraging him?
“Look, it’s a very easy thing to think about.” Shotin shrugged.
“Yeah, if you’re degenerate,” Draus shot back.
“Not exactly degenerate, just some of us still have our parts, you know? ”Naeko muttered.
Draus glared at all of them. The Chief Paladin held up his hand in apology. “Listen, I’m sorry that happened to you, about what Highflame took—”
“No, I’m kind of glad it happened to me,” Draus said. “Keeps distractions away. Lets me focus on the main thing, which is killing.”
Now, everyone just stared back at her.
“Draus,” Naeko began, “you got fucking issues.”
“No. I got guns and firing solutions. Issues are for other people. Speaking of, how’s this thing supposed to work, Avo?”
“Glad you asked.” And instead of explaining, he let one of the nodes slither into her exo-cortex rooted at the base where her neck met her skull.
As soon as it slithered in, a brief spark of flame flashed out, and then suddenly went invisible. To everyone else, it might have seemed like a momentary malfunction—a momentary malfunction that was quickly forgotten, redacted from memory.
For Draus, however, the world experienced a few distinct changes.
Comments
Aramis
You misspelled no dragons in the beginning part
Jeremy Russell
Let the fires burn!
