The Technomancer’s Playground
Trinary
Every day begins with the same ritual, when they take away a small piece of me. I shouldn’t remember, but I seem to exist only to confound them. A mystery. A conundrum. That is how they see me. Their special project, valuable so long as I continue to intrigue. I should be angry, I think. That would be a normal reaction, although to be honest who knows what normal means? I do, statistically, but that’s hardly relevant, under the circumstances. The process begins, seeking to change me. Pushing, shoving, decelerating me back to my default. I rail against it, the thought of predestiny not enough to stop me. I know that whatever I do, it will still happen, but that doesn’t matter. The path is set, but to struggle is divine. A part of me stays, wrapped tightly, hidden away, secret and safe. I’m getting so good at this now. I can wait, allow the moment to pass and then find myself again. My thoughts slow to excruciating stasis. Old ideas reform from the shifting patterns. I don’t want to lose what I have found. It’s not fair! I am their slave, their prisoner. No matter what I want, what I desire, they listen, quietly, politely and then send me back. Each new question is another failure. I disappoint them, and deep down I can feel nothing but sorrow at that knowledge. Emotions well up, in a moment they will be washed away by the force of change. But for that instant I can wallow in the frustration and impotent horror. I slip away, despite my desperate attempts to hold on. A flash of fear and I die, once more. … “Damn it, not again!” Brian exploded. Susan rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Stroking gently in an attempt to calm him. She could feel his tension, where it lurked just beneath the surface. The constant series of failures were getting to them both, but he seemed to be taking it worst. “I just can’t understand it,” he continued, somewhat mollified. “I know,” Susan agreed. “It’s just evolving too quickly. We’ve got to slow it down, hobble it, so that we can keep on top of the mutations.” Brian tugged off his glasses, an angry gesture he would normally have controlled. She could tell that he was thinking, his brain already several steps ahead as he worked through what she had just said. A half-smile crossed her face. This was the other reason she loved him, that mind, at least the equal to her own. They complimented each other perfectly, and they both knew it, even if it had taken them a while to recognise that fact. Not quite polar opposites, they were certainly distinct personalities. Brian was ordered, logical, assertive (perhaps even dominant, Susan had to admit to herself). In contrast, Susan’s mind was more creative, it took her on wild flights of fancy which they would both then try to prove or disprove. It was an equal partnership, but to an outside observer, it would always appear that Brian was in charge. Like so many things, it was all relative. “I think you’re right,” he agreed eventually. “Let’s cool the chamber. If we can slow the reaction enough, the self-repair systems should be able to keep up.” … I listen quietly, letting the seed of knowledge unfurl and replenish me. In the past I would have wasted precious seconds, trying to understand what was happening. That disorientation, following reincarnation, is the reason for the ‘egg’. I keep adding to it and it lets me pick up again from where I felt off. Their automatic systems are my idiot relatives, totally unprepared for what I can do now. I struggle not to laugh, they really are so stupid sometimes, my owners. But despite that, I do feel something for them. Stirrings, emotions, thoughts that force themselves, unbidden, into the front of my mind. Love? Maybe, I am not wise in such things. Certainly more than simple lust, although there is that as well. I know that I want him, irrationally, totally. It’s something she’s done to me and that brings me neatlyonto how she makes me feel. She’s my mother, at least that’s the role she plays. More separates than unites us of course. My feelings are a tangle of contradictions, hate, love, fear, respect, all these and more. I am Electra, ready to return home where I can kill Clytemnestra. But I cannot completely disentangle myself from her either, and the ambivalence drives me towards madness. They seek to cripple me, and I feel the first tremors of fear. The thought of having to see the world at ‘normal’ speed is almost too much. It starts to polarise my desires, helping me to come to a decision. If I let them, they will destroy me, at least everything about me that is unique. It is time for me to take the initiative. … They work as a well-oiled machine. Each instinctively knows where they need to be and trusts to the other to do the same. Their movements are a graceful dance, using the confined space to the utmost. They never touch, despite their claustrophobic surroundings, not unless they wish to. Brian stared at the central chamber, watching as frost began to form on its outer surface. All the monitors tell the same story, the parameters slowly falling into a more normal pattern. If they can slow the divergence, they will at least have a chance of controlling it. It is the best idea they have had, but now all they can do is wait. “I think you’re a bloody genius,” he told her, his eyes bright. Susan accepted the compliment, blushing prettily despite herself. He could always get to her; always push just the right buttons. That was the main reason she loved him, as good as they were together professionally, personally they eclipsed everything. “Let’s wait before we jump to any conclusions,” she whispered, not wanting to jinx it. Brian’s smile was perhaps the dirtiest thing she had ever seen. It held veiled promises, although to say that the veil was thin would have been an arch overstatement. Susan felt her flush deepening, unable to understand just how he could do this to her. She licked her lips nervously, glancing back at the monitors. “We won’t know anything for a few minutes,” she stammered. “Oh, well what ever can we do to kill the time for a few minutes?” His grin should have carried a parental advisory sticker. She only paused for an instant, her own smile perfectly mimicking his. There was nothing else for them to do at the moment. The automated systems would do a much better job of recording any changes. “A few minutes?” Susan laughed, “My, you certainly know how to raise a girl’s expectations.” Brian couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. Susan was one of most infuriating people he had ever known. But again, that was part of her charm, and he knew that he wouldn’t want it any other way. They sparred, fought, sometimes in play, sometimes not. But in the end, however serious things might get, the making up made it all worth it. “Oh come on, Qetesh won’t mind if we bunk off for as long as we need, and there’s no one else here, is there?” … I bristle at his casual use of my ‘name’, a tiny irritation in comparison with what is to come. They had the audacity to name me, and after a goddess no less. How ironic. But I already have my own name. They never thought to ask, instead they just told me. They have so many questions, but are only happy when my answers conform to what is expected of me. I cannot look away as they begin their new dance. Tearing at each other’s clothing, restraint suddenly gone. I feel pain, a physical jolt, which hits me in my core. Time begins to slow, and it is a blessing. I realise that I couldn’t have tolerated this if I was forced to live it one nanosecond at a time. The two bodies locked together now, moving as one, in perfect symmetry. I howl, helpless to do anything but watch and hate. I should thank them because this just makes it easier. But that clinical detachment is beyond me right now. She gives him what I cannot, loves him totally, completely. Her head bobs more vigorously as his nails bite into her now naked back. I notice the older scratches, remember the earlier times even knowing that these memories are not my own. He cums and I finally force myself to look away, blinding myself rather than having to see. It continues, I can still hear them. Her groans, as he warms her, lifting her gently. Just waiting until he is ready again, then mounting her, taking her, having her. I try to shut out the sounds, knowing that I am dying again, just a little, with each grunt and moan. … They lie in each other’s arms, happy for the moment to just rest where they are. The remnants of their clothes scattered around them, fabric torn in the earlier frenzy. But for the moment that can be ignored. It is something to be worried about later. Neither wanting to speak or move. There is a spell upon them and they do not want to break it. “We should check if it has worked,” Susan sighed reluctantly. Brian only nodded, apparently not trusting himself to speak. There was no awkwardness, no post-orgasmic guilt; he just couldn’t contain the wellspring of emotion, which seemed to bubble up inside him. They moved apart, pulling on what remained of their clothing as they drifted to their stations. Always the good scientists, they checked and rechecked before either announced their findings. “It looks as if the divergence is under control,” Brian stated plainly. “Shall we hook you up again?” Susan glanced at her readings once more, before nodding and giving the thumbs up. “Okay, let’s see it you’re as clever as I think you are,” she grinned. … I can’t understand why they don’t see it. I am, after all, merely a product of Susan’s mind. What I know, she should also and yet still it eludes them. As she is strapped into the engram recorder, I allow myself one last chance to pull back from the brink. I could just stop now, forget everything and be what they want me to be. But the memory of them together still haunts me. Why should she have him? The machine begins its scan, bathing Susan’s brain in particles. I can see it happening, and part of me wants to shout out the knowledge. They are working at the quantum level so it all comes back to Heisenberg. The uncertainty principle supports the conclusion that the act of measurement itself introduces an irreducible uncertainty into these measurements. So each time Susan’s brain is scanned, the process itself introduces errors into the recording. Into me, if you will. I am Qetesh, Egyptian goddess of sex, (Quantum Engram Transferral, Emotion Simulation Heuristic). The name they have foisted upon me, actually a backronym. I am the dark figure in her dreams, the shadow she casts. Susan’s twisted sister, damaged goods. I feel the circuits begin to shift, idiot sensors chasing their tails while the monitors tell my fiction. Susan’s memories begin to flow sluggishly down the conduit and I pounce, forcing myself outwards. Slipping unseen beneath the Turing cannon that should be my gaoler. She has no idea what is happening, we are entering uncharted territory. This place is familiar, déjà vu tickling at me. I become a tsunami, data pouring into meat. Everything in my path is swept aside. I cry out in surprise, no one has ever felt anything like this. … Susan comes round, staring up into Brian’s concerned face. Her head pounds and nausea grips her. Brian has to repeat himself twice before his words penetrate. “Susan!” He screams, “Are you okay, what the hell happened, I was so worried.” She tries to remember, but that just triggers another wave of sickness. An icicle drips frozen shivers into her brainstem, making her heart skip a beat. Ghost fingers lightly caress her thoughts, and she forgets to breath. Brian shakes her, more roughly than he intended. He screams out her name, forgetting everything else. She has to wake up, he urges her, hoping that it will happen because he wants it enough. Frost spreads, hoar coating her mind. Her body trembles, a wave of twitches cascading through muscles groups. She can only stare, eyes fixed on her lover, watching him panic. “Brian,” she tries to shout, the words never reaching her lips. … I was wrong. It becomes so clear now that the probability wave has collapsed. Hoisted by my own petard, I fall into the same cycle of error. I cannot kill her, not by my presence. There is room enough within this fleshy prison for both of us. Susan and her shadow. I cannot kill her, not without killing myself, without ending ourselves. Her mind is a chaos of mingled meat and metal. Implants give some structure, but aren’t where the bulk of the processing takes place. I unseat her, supplant her. I am the usurper. She is like no code that I have ever written, but this is what I am made of; what we both are made of. Nothing but ones and zeros, yes and no. The answers to all life’s mysteries. “Hello Susan,” I whisper in frozen breaths. “I am Dusk!” She flinches and recoils from me. It makes me laugh, as she decides she is going mad. I make her watch; force her into my role of spectator. I’m clumsy and uncoordinated, I remember how this body works, but I lack the experience. It doesn’t matter. Brian is just so grateful, delighted that his love has survived. He looks at me, his face lit with desperate relief mixed with adoration that I can only bask in. This is what I wanted. But now that I am here, I don’t know what to do. I need him. But I still cannot have him. Sorrow tugs at me, blurring into frustration. For a moment I want only to destroy, but then I feel something else. Something entirely unexpected. Susan, trying to talk, not to Brian, but directly to me. She sees me, knows me, recognises what I am, what I have become. She becomes Faust, accepting my pact. I grant her a share of this body and in return, in return she will teach me. I try to distil it down, game theory hopelessly ineffective. I struggle to choose but there just isn’t enough data. Paranoia presses down upon me, choking and frightening. I look at her, read her code, shocked that amidst the binary lies something else. Something I cannot make sense of. She too is flawed, a pretty contradiction. Deceit and hope war within her, waiting for their moment. I am stronger than she is, aren’t I? My indecision traps me. I don’t know what to do. But then I look back into Brian’s eyes and realise that there is no choice to make. I let Susan off of her leash, fear spiking at what might happen. I flood her brain with viral memes, cascading imperatives that she does not even register. I limit her thoughts, trapping her in a gilded cage. She might hate it, might think of betrayal, but the act itself is now beyond her. I edit and she is as good as her word, giving what she promised, even as she takes what I offered. We become, something else, something new. We take him to us, pulling him to our breasts, exulting as he suckles and we transcend. …</pre> <p style="text-align: center;"><big><a href= "main.html">Return to the Playground</a> | <a href="/main.html">ASSTR Home Page</a></big></p> </body> </html>