Aloy's breathing eased palpably as her mount gained distance from Meridian. Her Overriden Charger attracted unwanted attention in the towns and villages she passed through - usually anxious, frequently hostile, but she was becoming slowly inured to this. Besides, the speed of transit was so rapidly increased that it easily made up for the whispers of fear and reverence that variously trailed in her wake.
She was Aloy, the Anointed of the Nora, saviour of Meridian, after all. Though her fame clearly made her uncomfortable, it also meant she wanted for little. Food, drink, a bed to rest in, raw materials for weapons - all granted with no question and usually no charge, wherever she travelled. She had fitted her mount with panniers to carry significantly more than she could herself, including the camping equipment. But - to her slight distaste - the last little while she had preferred the comfort of a bed and a roof, freshly cooked food over cold preserved meat, and even the occasional hot bath. Meridian had softened her; her physical fitness had declined, and she could feel everything taking significantly more effort. As the Charger accelerated down the Brightmarket Road, she felt the impacts quite viscerally. "Need to work on that core," she mused.
The pannier she had fitted allowed for rapid access to her bow and other weapons, a feature that proved to be utterly without utility. It was an odd experience, travelling on roads that were often the most dangerous out there, not to be in a state of perpetual readiness for attack. The Snapmaws, Stalkers and other predatory machines were gone. This meant the paths were much busier with people, of course, not least with the streams of refugees seeking food and perhaps a new life in the towns and cities clustering around Meridian. Mercifully for Aloy, she was travelling counter to the flow, and if there were crowds, the mere presence of a fast-moving machine would cause them to part like waves around a promontory. She clattered into Brightmarket, stopping briefly to pick up supplies that had proven hard to obtain in the stressed markets of Meridian. Then she rode on again, following the coastal paths north and east, devoid of people and machines. This simply did not feel the same world that she had lived in all her life, and a part of her was surprisingly disappointed. Did she miss the fighting, the heart-pumping terror of stalking the hugest beasts that the Cauldrons could muster?
The sun was setting at the far western corner of the desert as her Charger cantered down a more makeshift section of the riverside path. A lazy wind blew through the rock stacks, scattering puffs of dust which in turn caught the solar rays. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and Aloy stopped to marvel. "Might as well set down for the night," she decided, feeling tired, sore and still a little sick. She found a nice flat spot of ground on the leeward side of one of the stacks; it was tranquil and cool, and provided a strategic – as well as aesthetically pleasing - view over the valley.
Aloy prepared dinner. Bread, cheese and roasted venison from the Meridian palace kitchens that Avad had insisted she have (and her friends had concurred). It had been a strange parting, all in all. Petra was looking quite tired herself - she was working around the clock still to improve her weapons, and Aloy hardly ever saw her. Erend was away on palace business - presumably Cleansing related, she didn't know exactly. Nil had, predictably, vanished quite soon after Hades had fallen. Now there was a man in conflict, an apex predator who now had to confront the fact that he had exterminated his prey. He had been undeniably valiant in the Battle of The Spire; but without bandits, he was no-one. Having defined himself as their nemesis, with them gone, who was he now? Aloy was glad he had disappeared; his unpredictability made everyone feel on edge. Yan had made his way back to Mother's Rise. Vanasha was still recovering from injuries sustained in battle. And everyone else had variously returned home, been drafted into the reconstruction efforts, or The Cleansing. "Talk about anti-climax" Aloy had muttered as she had stood at the city limits. But maybe she preferred it that way, slipping out without too much fuss.
The food eased her nausea, but her head throbbed from the day's journey. She sat outside her tent, watching the stars trace across the heavens. Was she any different to Nil, really? With Hades gone, the human world was now rebuilding itself. She had fought all her life first for recognition, then a fair chance, and finally for the future Elisabet Sobeck had sacrificed herself for. And now? She travelled to see Sylens for reasons she didn't understand at all. Part of her psyche wished that there was some sinister intent in there, that he might turn out to be the one behind Hades' awakening as well as founding the Eclipse. One thing was for sure: when he called, it was never a social nicety. She tapped her Focus, and the world became a mesh of sparkling information in front of her eyes. But aside from the occasional flash of fish swimming in the river, or the distant padding of a coyote, there was nothing to see in range, and the radio network was silent as the night itself. She flipped it off, and sighed. The desert air was cold now, and her breath condensed in frosty puffs, so she lit a fire and settled down for the night.
In the dark, the Stormbird settled in front of her. She became aware of it, dimly at first, then keenly with a spike of adrenaline, and froze. Her weapons were not immediately to hand, and rapid movement would surely trigger the machine's defence protocols. As her eyes adapted, she saw the predator standing, looming huge, staring directly at her. Its eyes glowed, but did not burn with the expected avarice. Instead, Aloy saw ... Pity? The beast had stretched out its wings, casting an ebon, sinister shadow over her and her tent. Yet it was sitting quite still, looking her in the eye, into her being - or perhaps straight through her, it was impossible to tell. Any moment now, she feared the machine would charge up its lightning cannon, and at this range, she would be burnt to a crisp. Slowly, her hand moved towards her weapons. The Stormbird blinked. She pulled the bow and quiver towards her, and glacially extracted three Tearblast arrows. One shot into the avian's breastplates would strip off the armour and that weapon. As for destroying it... that was another bridge to cross. She took a deep breath, and in a single, incredibly quick motion, was standing with bow primed and ready to fire. The Stormbird did not move. Aloy did not understand. She flicked on her Focus again, but instead of seeing the the creature lit up in technical detail with its weak spots highlighted, there was nothing except a silhouette, as if someone had cut a birdlike shape in the fabric of the night. Baffled now, she switched off her Focus, and nearly dropped her bow. There was a single tear rolling down from the eye of the Stormbird, which traced an erratic, zigzag path down its face, paused for a moment at the edge, and dripped off into the blackness.
Aloy awoke with a start. The first light of morning was just grasping at the edge of the horizon, enough to have her scrabbling around outside for evidence of the night's attack. Her mount was sitting patiently outside, having powered down for the duration. The fire had burnt itself out, the dust and sand was, wind eddies allowing, as she had left it the night before, and there was certainly no sign a raptor had been anywhere near the tent. "Just a stupid dream" she reassured herself, and wiped her nose. As she looked down, she was distressed to see a trail of blood on the back of her hand. "What the hell...?" She picked up her water bottle and rinsed her mouth out; there was a metallic taste that was quite hard to get rid of. "Where's that physician when you need her?" she muttered.
The bleeding had stopped by the time she had washed and dressed. She didn't feel hungry yet, so she packed away the tent and got moving again. There was still at least two days' travel to get to her rendezvous, and Sylens' motives were as opaque and frankly perplexing as ever. It annoyed Aloy intensely that he always had her on the back foot, exploiting her and her Focus for his own reasons. For a man who valued knowledge so greatly, he did not seem to like sharing it at all. She had put some time into considering a change of strategy with the man, but what that actually constituted wasn't readily apparent to her. Here she was, travelling leagues into the cold north to meet this man on his terms for reasons unknown. Was she that beholden to his words? Did it even matter now - the secrets of the ancients were either revealed, or forever buried, were they not? But then she remembered her reasons to escape the confines of Meridian, and figured that maybe it was truly of little significance. She gazed across the still, silky water into the western distance, the rusted metal ribs of strange lost worlds catching the milky rays of the new morning. She loved this world, for all its imperfections; maybe that was all that was important?
She saddled up, and set off. These paths were empty, so her progress was rapid. By mid-day she had come to the edge of the desert which was a relief that had been a long time coming. She'd spent far longer under the Meridian sun than she would have liked (and a girl with her complexion burns easily). The sand was yielding to grass, scrubby nearby, but becoming denser into the distance. The river here was clearer and less silty than to the west, so she took the opportunity to refill her water bottles, and was about to move on, when she became aware of motion near her. The echo of the Stormbird vision sparked briefly in her consciousness, but she dismissed that quickly. She flicked on her Focus, and quickly spotted the heat-trace of a human, not hiding, walking towards her. She gripped her hunting knife a little more tightly, but then relaxed when she saw who was approaching. To her slight surprise, he was Nora.
He went down on one knee in front of her. "Anointed one," he said, looking down at the ground.
Aloy sighed. "I'm just a hunter out here now. I may seem like a goddess to rabbits these days, but please, stand up, don't grovel. We're both equal under the noon sun. I'm just Aloy." The Nora rose up, actually looking more comfortable now that she had brought some levity to the moment.
He thanked her. "My name is Rai, and I have an important matter I need to discuss with you Hu... Aloy."
"You tracked me?" she interjected, amused, flattered even.
"If you excuse my honesty, your reputation - not to mention your ... companion - makes you as easy to follow as a Grazer with a leaking Blaze canister."
She smiled, a little complemented, a little injured by being so trivially simple to find. Meridian and the last few months had truly buffed her edges too smooth for comfort. "So you aren't going to be asking me how I like living in the big city?"
"No of course not, my apologies highne... No." He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment, then continued. "Let me explain. I am from a tribelet dispatched from Mother's Heart to assist the Sun-King with The Cleansing. We have been scouring the desert for machines for many suns and moons, and are coming to the end. There are few left anywhere now, Aloy. We believed we were doing the work of All-Mother. But we have now had our eyes opened, Huntress."
"Opened by what?" said Aloy, suddenly sensing (and maybe hoping) with a tremor of excitement that the world was about to become more interesting again.
"Not 'what', Aloy. Whom. Our tribe were assisted in a dispute with some Oseram locals by a stranger. Though I will say he was a stranger to us, but not to you, Annointed."
Aloy's eyebrows rose quizzically. "I have become acquainted with quite a few individuals over the last year, Rai, not all of them trustworthy. Who was this who dropped my name to impress you?"
"His name is Brin, Aloy, a Banuk. He says he knows you. He says you did work for him and that you can vouch for his word."
Aloy was taken aback. When she last saw Brin, he was a stained man who the desert vultures could have been scenting with enthusiasm. Even though his egregiously ornate tribal headgear had blocked her seeing the true state of his face, her Focus had revealed atrocious facial damage due to his regular consumption of machine blood. That he might have lived for any longer than a few days would have seemed miracle enough, but so many months had passed since then, so hearing that not only was he still living, but presumably hale enough to 'assist in disputes' was both good news and difficult to understand. "You have my attention, Rai."
"Is it true then that you know him? Is his word good?"
"Yes, it is true that I know him. And I did do some hunting for him - against my better judgement, I would add. Whether his word is good, well that would depend on what his word actually was.
"Come on, let's sit and talk this out. Have you eaten? I have some fine food from Meridian."
Rai looked uneasily at Aloy's Charger. It snorted as if indignant at the suspicious glance. "He's lovely, really," said Aloy, sensing his discomfort. Rai wasn't sure if she was talking to him or the machine. She fetched some of the provisions from its panniers, sat down cross-legged on the thin grass, and shared the food. Rai continued the story.
"Brin has told us that the machines have gone wrong over the ages because of the things we have done, that they are not intrinsically evil. Indeed before The Derangment they were charged with keeping the land fertile and the waters pure, but became engaged in a war with the peoples of the world."
Aloy nodded. "That is my understanding, too. So far, so good, I can vouch for that. What else has he said?" She could almost feel his pulse rate rise as she confirmed this part of the story.
"Brin has told us that the destruction of the Deranged machines is a good thing, but that our world badly needs their ancestors to return in order to rebuild after this great catastrophe. He has asked us to assist in this matter."
"Well that sounds a bit more like the Brin I know and love," quipped Aloy. "You need to know Rai that many years ago he was a Banuk Shaman, with the emphasis on 'shame'. When I met him he was feigning prophetic visions. Talked nonsense to me mainly, but mixed it up with just enough truth that you couldn't write him off completely. But the man you're describing doesn't sound quite like that?"
"He appears sober and lucid, Aloy. He speaks calmly and appeals to our reason, not our emotion or loyalty. He has renounced his past in an honest way, confessing the shallowness of his former words. Wishes to make up for them, even."
Aloy sniffed. "Well not everything people say can be unsaid. But I would be wary of following him because frankly he has spent years drinking poison and it will have affected his judgement. If he plans to go back in time then that would be a reason to leave him standing in your dust."
"But you followed his requests, Huntress?"
"Yes. Yes I did." She felt slightly uncomfortable admitting that.
"And did he fail you?"
"Not exactly. He kept his word to me. His last words to my face suggested I look for him in my dreams. Make of that what you will."
"And have you dreamt of him, Aloy?"
"Not exactly. I did think of him, from time to time, but that's not the same thing. Or maybe it is?"
Rai looked nonplussed. He pressed his lips together, unsure as to whether his questions had been answered or not. "Anointed," he began, a little more cautiously. "Will you return to lead us?"
"'Us', Rai? Who do you mean?" Aloy replied, taken aback by the question.
Excitement sparkled in his eyes, "The tribelet. The Nora, maybe. Our people are dying alive, Aloy. We have no true leaders. The past has left us ill-equipped for the now. The sacred lands are in tatters. With your bow and your wisdom..."
She shook her head. "The past has left us all confused as to who we are and where we go next. You can smell it wherever you go. The Nora are no exception and you - we - are not alone. The whole world is trying to reinvent itself and there is so little real wisdom around to help guide it. But it will come. We're still grieving our losses, Rai. Happier times lie ahead." She brushed crumbs from her tunic, and looked into Rai's eyes sincerely. "In the meantime, I still have a path of my own to follow. I've no idea where it leads - probably nowhere." She saw a flicker of disappointment cross Rai's face, and felt the need to justify herself.
"Look Rai, I was born an outcast. For years I banged on the gate of the Nora wishing to be let in, but I gave up waiting, became accustomed to my own company. I'm not a Matriarch, and have no desire to follow in their footsteps. I don't see myself as a leader, never have; I prefer this - " she gestured around her - "to the temples. Worse than no leader would be the wrong leader - just ask the Carja. Return to the tribelet, Rai. Say hello to Brin for me, tell him I'm still waiting for that dream."
Aloy packed again and set off, riding as hard as she dared. The sensation of speed, and the cooling of the air as she headed northwards caused something primal to react inside her positively. For the first time in many months, she felt as if she were heading somewhere again. She stuck to the less travelled parts of the landscape, sometimes even taking awkward routes across tricky terrain just so she could ensure the solitude. Also, she figured that attracting less attention was probably a good idea - Rai's glib description of how easy she had been to find in the midst of the desert had tweaked her pride.
So Brin had survived, somehow. This made her happy, for reasons she couldn't quite cognize. Perhaps it was the fact that he, like her, was a loner and that she saw him as a kindred spirit - ex-machine-hunters both. What did he want with the Nora though? Telling them tales - however true - of benign machines? He seemed to have traded false visions of the future for visions of a long-gone past. She had not encountered a single machine over the many miles of ground she had covered; she had single-handedly disabled the means of their manufacture. And the majority of the world had railed against them. If Brin was telling the Nora that this was the age of the machine, he was surely as wrong as he had been when he had "seen" her impending death. Calling the future is a stupid business, she concluded. It can only end up making you look foolish. What was troubling about Rai's tale was of the conflict that it might engender. On the one hand, Sun-King Avad, desperate to bring peace to a world too long ravaged by poisonous tribalism, and keen to rid the land of all machines. And on the other, a yearning for an age of mechanised custodians, lost beyond recall. When would people start pulling together? Hadn't they learned where division and superstition had led?
She had travelled quite far North by the end of the next day, and the climate had gone from temperate to there being a chill now as the mountains reared in the near distance. Eventually, Aloy had to leave her Charger behind when the terrain became too gnarled and slippy for it to be safe. It stood there, still, obedient, waiting for further instruction, and to her surprise she felt a momentary pang of sadness, then guilt even. Did it feel boredom, loneliness, the frigidity of the air? She recalled the day she removed it from its pack, hiding in the needle-sharp marram next to a river, allowing it to get closer until she could Override it. Did it remember its fellows? Did it remember fields and water and freedom? And what of the distaste for human life? Was that gone forever from its psyche - or merely quiescent, maybe even awaiting some wake-up signal? Like Hades. Could humans ever fully trust these machines, themselves created by a machine?
She had grabbed a few provisions for the final ascent, and changed into a warmer outfit. Still: the cold air felt keener than she recalled, and she couldn't quite avoid shivering, even after a sweaty hour's climb up some sheer rock faces. She ate as she moved, not wanting to waste time or lose momentum, even to build a fire to warm up her now aching bones. Snow had held off, but with the sky as leaden as it was, it was getting dark too early for her taste. Eventually though she reached a ledge and stopped to rest, as climbing when exhausted was a dangerous hobby she dare not indulge. (Though admittedly not as deadly as when Stormbirds and Glinthawks had wheeled in the sky, leaving nowhere to hide.) Perspiration had partly frozen onto her face, it crackled slightly and fell to the ground when she prodded it. Her cheek stung in that spot. "Must be getting old for this," she muttered to herself.
She turned her Focus on. The world glittered around her, giving her improved night vision, and allowed her to start the final ascent to GAIA Prime. She talked into the device. "Hey Sylens. It's Aloy. I'll be with you in an hour or so. Some hot food would be appreciated. Also a heads-up on why you've dragged me up this glacier would be good." As expected, no reply was forthcoming. "Business as usual, eh?"
She continued her ascent in the dark. The wind had picked up now, and progress had become harder. She kept her feet moving in rhythm, her boots biting into the gravel and ice, left in front of right in front of left, hypnotically, the trance growing like a dark halo around her until the world started to fade, dissolving into the velvet blackness of a moonless, starless night. And then, the shadow of the Stormbird fell on her again, like a veil across the face of the void. The huge inky shape enclosed her like a corvid around a mouse, left then right then left, and slowly, helplessly, she fell to the ground, her sanguine locks spraying sideways on impact.
When the lights came back on, the world was whirling around Aloy in a sickly blur. Slowly, it span down like a top, and coalesced into a coherent scene. Her head hurt, but she was surprised to find it was propped on a pillow. Almost shocked, she sat bolt upright (her head throbbed in response) and found herself in a slightly rusted metal-framed bed. A somewhat coarse sheet had been placed over her to keep her warm, and it slithered off her onto the floor. And Sylens was there, sitting with his back to her at a desk, peering intently at a display, his face lit in gaudy neon. He looked round at her and smiled, but there were lines of concern, too.
"Welcome, Aloy. I am glad you made it, though you are probably aware that you almost did not."
Aloy raked her hair with her hands, feeling for the spot where she had cracked her head on hard ground. She grimaced. "Thank you for helping me out. I wouldn't have expected that of you."
Sylens looked a little offended. "We have been through a lot together, Aloy, have we not? Whatever you may think of me, even I would not leave a fellow human to die on my doorstep. Certainly not one who is here at my behest. Now, please, let me get you some water to drink. You have quite a bruise on the back of your head." He left the room briefly, and returned some moments after with a cup of cold water. Aloy took it and sipped; it was icy and tasted as clear as crystal.
"I must have slipped on ice. It got a bit wild out there" she said, in a tone tinged with some embarrassment. Sylens nodded sympathetically. She sipped again.
"So how have you been, Aloy? It's some time since we spoke."
Aloy swivelled on the bed and set her feet on the ground. "I've been okay. It's been quiet - apart from the crowds who want to come and worship me for saving the universe."
Sylens kept a straight face. "People look up to you now. When everyone else had failed, you stepped in and changed things for the better. Like it or not - and I know you don't - you are important, Aloy. Important to your tribe. Important to the king. Important to your friends, who supported you when you needed them and you did not let them down. Important even to those who know you only by reputation, for the old ways of superstition have been discredited, and the politics and hate of the tribes has led only to war and never peace, and people are sick of war."
Aloy shook her head. "I never asked for any of that. I never set out to be a hero, or an icon, or a god. I hunted machines - and now there are hardly any. I didn't see a single one other than my Charger on the way here from Meridian, Sylens." She sighed. "And you're right: Avad thinks I'm important. So important that he didn't want me going out with Cleansing parties to mop up the bad guys, even though I wanted to. Who wants to be 'important'?" Another sigh. "I understand why. I'm even more responsible for the machines dying than most. But I honestly don't know who I am anymore and the stupidest, most frustrating thing in the world is that I only just found out who I was and then it all changed..." She trailed off, clearly upset. Sylens let the silence ride for a little.
"So how do you feel?" he asked again, patiently, but with concern.
"Fine. I've been a bit out out of shape, not having anything to hunt and not having mountains to run around in."
He nodded. "Which may explain why I had to pick you up unconscious off an ice sheet a few hours ago."
Aloy looked at him oddly. There was clearly a game of chess in progress. Perhaps she ought to make a move? "So how have you been, Sylens? I can't imagine for a moment you've been taking a sabbatical, and the fact that you're here rather than somewhere warm and comfortable suggests you're still thirsting for more knowledge in dangerous ways."
Sylens nodded appreciatively. "You know me well, Huntress. I have been extremely busy, and yes, knowledge has come to me but the effort has been quite draining.
"This place is ideal for study. It is quiet and as secluded as you can get. I have stockpiled supplies for many months, and the meltwater from the glacier - " he pointed at the cup " - means water is plentiful. There is still sufficient power here to last many years yet, and - should anything untoward happen - the location is so isolated that innocents are unlikely to be affected."
Aloy shuddered a little at that last remark. Sylens was up to something here, something clearly involving significant risk. But what was even more of concern was that he was usually supremely skilled at keeping his activities close to his chest. This level of candour was unfamiliar.
"Well it's good to be busy. If you have any mysteries you'd like me to solve, I can help - for the right number of shards." She smiled, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.
Sylens changed the subject. "Come, let's eat - provided you're hungry?"
Aloy nodded. "That climb took it out of me."
She followed him out of this small room into a nearby larger one with a table that had been prepared for eating. There were fresh fruits, cheeses, meats and breads. In the centre, a large earthenware pot of soup steamed gently. "One of the benefits of living in a frigid environment is that food stays fresh a long time."
She sat down and he served the soup - a kind of thin vegetable stew. It tasted strongly of herbs and roots - very pleasant. Almost like the palace kitchen, but more homely. "This is a recipe from the ancients, Aloy. Some of the ingredients did not exist in this age; I have learnt to recreate them by manipulating the very essences of other plants. With such knowledge, humans can finally produce enough food to ensure no-one starves. This can change the world, Aloy."
Aloy was impressed. "At last, something with a practical use. Most of the knowledge I gained in my journey gave me understanding, but no power."
Sylens shook his head. "Oh that is quite wrong, Aloy. If I have learnt anything, it is that understanding is power." He took a spoonful of the soup to let that nugget of wisdom sink in.
"So tell me what happened at The Spire," he asked casusally.
She chewed a chunk of rye bread thoughtfully before responding, savouring the dark tang. "There was a battle, horrific as you might expect, and fire everywhere; Hades had brought an enhanced Deathbringer along to defend itself - specifically from me. And quite a few Corrupted machines. I was flattered, in a way. We fought them off. It got part of its wake-up transmission out - I thought we were too late - and we did get reports of the ancient machines powering up all over the broadcast region. But they never got fully operational. The odd thing is that Hades didn't - perhaps couldn't - defend itself. That modified lance you gave me - I rammed it in deep. The bastard gave me a huge shock, but apart from that, the Master Override defeat sequence we worked on just shut it down, and suddenly it was all over.
"I felt elation on that day, but it's been a downhill ride since then. So much death and destruction were brought by the Eclipse. They blew holes in lots of stuff, even The Ridge. They're turning it into a memorial so that the people of Meridian never forget that day - not that they would. They wanted to start naming things after me, but that didn't feel right at all." Aloy realised she was sounding morose, and shifted tack. "So whilst all that was happening, where were you?"
"Here, or around," Sylens replied evasively. "There are still unanswered questions regarding our history that I intend to get to the bottom of. But the sources of information are not just difficult to interpret - they fight back. The ancients created these great minds to run their affairs in their absence, Aloy. But they could not know how they would turn out. They guard their secrets jealously, are able to hide the truth with smoke and mirrors..."
With a slight hesitation, he followed up: "Aloy, have you been feeling sick of late? Tiring easily, nauseous...?"
She was taken aback; by the specificity of the request, and with the accuracy of the symptoms he described. She opened her mouth to reply, but he interrupted.
"I should probably say. I have heard some of the conversations you have been having - such is the peril of wearing a Focus. I have heard you report sickness, and this concerned me greatly. You may take this as a token of my genuine esteem for your abilities, or simply a worry that one as remarkable as yourself, who is considered a symbol of heroism to the many, may be taken from us at such a young age. With disastrous consequences for all at such a delicate point in our new history."
Aloy took this intrusion on the chin. She knew Sylens listened in on her - and that she was largely powerless to stop it. But she could easily forget about it. And taking off her Focus left her feeling vulnerable, even if the robotic threats it may have once spotted were now on the point of extinction. From the moment all those years ago as a child she had picked up what she had thought was a discarded toy, it had defined her life, her identity, her skills. Without it, she felt diminished.
Sylens added: "I also took the liberty of upgrading your Focus when I learned that you were unwell. I installed a software patch that allows me to track your own vital signs - the speed your heart beats, how well it pumps blood, the amount of air in your lungs, your core temperature, a few other things. I can also analyse what is happening in your cells, Aloy."
"'Cells?' What are they?"
"Your body consists of many parts. Each part in turn is made of a vast number of tiny components called 'cells'. Though they are tiny, they are very complex. Think of each one like a miniature machine. Each machine is built from instructions held in their centre. It is the same thing with the ingredients in the soup, they are made in an almost identical way."
Aloy had stopped eating and was looking at Sylens, fascinated and curious. What was he leading up to? "So you can snoop on my cells using my Focus. And what have you learnt?"
A troubled look crossed Sylens' face like a cloud scudding across the sun. He looked down at the table. "I brought you here not just to talk to you face-to-face, but also to do some further analysis. Whilst you were passed out I managed to run some tests that were not possible remotely, and ... And they have confirmed my suspicions." He gulped, suddenly not knowing quite where to look.
"Aloy... You are dying."
