Chapter 16: The Cure
The framework was complete. Parts were being swept up from bins and shelves above and below to be fitted into place and secured with pins or weld. Hands and tentacles manipulated multiple components at once. Layer after layer the latest invention of the Quintessons took shape.
On the nearest wall, a screen displayed a grainy recording of stalactites. The footage would occasionally scramble around and reveal an arm, a leg or a distant form facing away. On the same desk was the head of an old model Lodex Beta that had been recovered from the tunnels beneath the city. The head was not active, cables connected it to a computer to access its data directly. Three of the Quintessons were focused on their creation, while the remaining two stared at the screen.
Greed was working on the device. He was unimpressed he had to take his eyes away from their project to find the tool he needed. Five heads, and only three were focused on the task at hand.
"It seems all we do is review old data." muttered Greed.
"It helps to be thorough. To ensure nothing is missed." replied Pride.
"You could learn something from this, Greed. Rubbish was fueled and built entirely with parts that we discarded." remarked Inquiry.
"The desperate will always feed off the waste of their superiors." said Greed. "That is no oversight. One enforcer surviving off garbage is no threat."
"But this network of tunnels could be." remarked Inquiry "Had we known they were this widespread we would have had them sealed off."
"It's no wonder Alpha Trion and his companions fled into them. It would take an army to patrol all of it." said Pride.
"We can spare the enforcers." hissed Malice. "We should purge these tunnels immediately. Vermin can breed quickly if left to make nests unchecked."
"Protoforms don't breed, Malice." groaned Pride.
"Then perhaps you should tell the resistance we failed to cleanse." snapped Malice. "Because it has clearly been recruiting from our ranks. Let's send an army before they can become a threat!"
"A larger force would be unwise," answered Faith, "a small crew of skilled assassins would be more efficient. Don't you agree, Atross?"
Faith glanced expectantly at the drone standing next to the door. The drone's optics widened with anticipation. He plays the role of a faithful servant too well, Faith mused. A more sadistic mind was at work behind the innocent faceplate of his.
"We can send Atross into the tunnels after the execution. We may have need of his skills." suggested Inquiry.
"Who needs skill when you could have superior firepower?" inquired Malice joyfully as one tentacle caressed their invention.
"Are you so sure of its superiority?" questioned Greed.
"The arena will be an appropriate field-test," proclaimed Faith. "Tracer will no longer be a threat to us, win or lose. Perhaps even you, Atross, can appreciate its subtlety." The drone standing in the shadows only paused for a moment to show he heard. But the Quintessons could hear his optics still scanning the room as metal fingertips delicately skimmed the top of a cabinet. "It's good to see the months being left in storage haven't affected your personality. We are hoping you haven't lost your… hmm, edge. What do you think of your new body?" Once again there was no reply, but the drone raised its forearms to examine them closely.
"It's lighter than your old one," Pride said with satisfaction "we modelled it after your fascinating modus operandi. It has some surprises hidden inside those limbs. Rest assured, we expect you'll be using them very soon."
Their invention rested completed on the workbench as Inquiry turned the body to look at the monitor. He watched the memory recording of Alpha Trion sinking beneath the surface of the energon lake. A moment passed as Inquiry became lost in thought.
"Inquiry?"
"Hmm?"
"You're thinking…" said Faith, disgusted. "It's more than simply musing over theories, it's becoming more… ugh, existential. Tell us what you find so interesting."
"This drone's own memories do not confirm that Alpha Trion died. He only… vanishes beneath the energon."
"Pure energon is lethal to constructs. We have observed this numerous times." dismissed Pride.
"We've observed that effect on drones." replied Inquiry, "Alpha Trion has exhibited none of the observed effects of energon contamination. It seems for once our thorough containment procedures have kept us from making a critical connection: energon does not damage constructs with a spark…"
"… It rejuvenates them!" said Faith in astonishment.
"And we have no shortage of energon," began Greed, "we have reserves measured in the kilotanks. Ah, let's assume that a spark can be sustained by a militank of energon for one week—we'll adjust these numbers of course—we could support one million sparks for as long as our current production of energon remains the same. We no longer need to reward protoforms with rank or goods, we can keep their loyalty by promising them eternal life."
"Eternal?" cringed Malice.
"Another variable we must understand; how long can sparks survive with energon?" asked Inquiry. "We would have to test."
"You can't mean for one second that we might grant them immortality?" protested Pride.
"Nonsense," said Greed, "We may keep a few specimens as a control group, while we ensure the masses believe that immortality goes hand in hand with loyalty."
"… Even that might be folly." uttered Inquiry.
"Are you… afraid, Inquiry?" whispered Faith.
Inquiry took the centre slot and paced their body around the workshop. "I see something here that should be impossible. Sparks are pure energy made sentient. They are acellular, with powerful potential, and now we know they can be sustained by the most versatile chemical ever known—perhaps indefinitely. We have only ever achieved thirty percent efficiency refining energon. A fifteen step process to gain usable energy, yet it was the only fuel source in abundance on this planet. Now we know that sparks defy science and can consume pure energon. None of this is right. Everything we've done to become what we are. The treatments we must take to sustain ourselves inside this—this shell! We are only prolonging our death, we keep this laboratory full of equipment. We always maintain courts of five so that—"
"—so that we may always focus on our goals; and to have more insight to benefit from." continued Pride, growing agitated.
"—because one of us alone is still fundamentally flawed! We were vulnerable as individuals. We are restless, paranoid, obsessed in our quest for immortality. And yet the most sophisticated of our drones are imbecilic compared to any of these protoforms. These sparks, they should not exist! We still do not know their true limits. How ancient are they truly? This only proves we still know nothing. This is more than a random phenomenon. Life doesn't just begin perfect, with immortality an arm's stretch away."
"You must come to your senses." commanded Faith.
"I wonder if I'm the only one who has, Faith! We can leave this planet behind. Send it plunging into the sun and leave, but we won't be able to forget that we just glimpsed the purest life in the cosmos. All our fleets, all our technology… we are amoebas compared to them. Open your eyes, this is greater than us. We must contact the high court before this can get out of hand. The Vector Xi computer is the only way we can master this impossible planet. "
Silence hung in the air for ages. They could all sense Faith savouring the moment. Where they felt nervous, he was confident. Where they had doubts, he was certain. His face slowly maneuvered around their enlarged head. The pathway he took was long and convoluted so that he circled each of his fellow Quintesson judges. When he slid into the centre slot, none of the others gestured, but they could not hide their feelings. Faith does not feel enjoyment. Yet, he chuckled. A ceremonial sound he normally reserves for lesser species. He then raised his arms as to address some invisible assembly surrounding them.
"In all fairness, that was an… impressive speech." Faith paced as his words echoed through the halls. "The Vector Xi computer… yes, of course. How could we forget? It's only the single most advanced artificial intelligence ever made. It has been used to conquer an entire sector. But by all means, Inquiry, let us call upon our superiors to aid us control a single planet inhabited by our own constructs." Faith had a way with sarcasm. He twists the words until they become pathetically self-defeating. "Ah, but I do recall the High Court of the Kraken Nebula exclusively oversees and interfaces with the computer. Therefore calling for the Vector Xi computer will indeed make our presence here superfluous. Obsolete. Did you believe that anything you said could change that? Did you think the rest of us would forsake all that we have done, and everything we are just because of these balls of light? We have nothing to lose if this one planet is destroyed, and we certainly have that option available. We won't admit defeat, that is not the Quintesson way. Are these sparks… perfect? That doesn't matter, and it never has. Existence is but a race. There is no higher purpose, no absolute morality, nothing is truly sacred. All that matters is that you reach the end before anyone else. Fate has always favoured the strong, and the many, but not nearly as much as those with cunning, and without… ugh, sympathy. A Quintesson will bear witness to the end of the cosmos. We will be the last living thing in existence, and behold there will be no gods to judge us. No punishment for our sins. No mystical balance to thwart us. Just us at the end to watch the universe die."
Inquiry held back a shudder "You're going to take this memory. But you'll have to take all of yours too, for fear that a single sliver of doubt persist between us. Who knows what a single missed memory might trigger?"
Faith's tentacle whipped around and snagged Inquiry's face, and he whispered regally "I'll be the judge of that." From inside the enlarged cranium, precise instruments began to move. Through their connection, the others could feel his terror as his mind shattered inside him. Chemicals were injected. Electrical pulses surged. Thoughts were being scanned. Memories; probed. Inquiry's personality was disassembled, and all of its contents examined. "Here it is." said Faith as they pried deeper into Inquiry's mind to find his reverence for natural order: a small thread, which held so much of his motivation together. The excision was complete, and the abstract patient was reassembled. This one will take longer than normal to recover. This was rooted deep into his consciousness.
"Now, let that be the end of it." Faith moved them over to the desk and disconnected the monitor.
The door to the workshop opened and Lodex Gamma peeked inside. "My lords, I heard shouting. Is there anything you would ask of me?"
Faith turned slowly. "Always. Has there been an incident?"
"Enforcers have thwarted an attack on a generator. They captured three protoforms, and will bring them to the dungeons to be questioned."
"Tell the enforcers to hold the captives at the generator. We will question them ourselves. Walk with us, Lodex. Tell us what else you've learned."
"I have compiled a detailed list of ninety three witnesses in connection to twenty six disappearances; and a list of two hundred and eleven insubordinate protoforms still in active duty. There are eight counts of overlap where a witness to a disappearance has been disobedient. Perhaps the most intriguing is the disappearance of what appears to be the assembler drone from sector four, and a platform operator drone in cahoots with a… rather feminine protoform."
"The assembler?" cringed Pride.
"Yes, the same assembler Tracer claimed to have overloaded. I had a crew inspect the workshop. It appears the assembler was rebuilt, the parts we found were removed by precision tools and not damaged by overcharge."
Faith stared ahead as he walked. "Let me guess, you found liquid energon there too."
Lodex seemed almost intrigued. "Yes, a large canister. You must have seen it while you were there."
"No, but we have begun to see the threads of a greater pattern. Do any of the disappearances have access to any tunnels that lead below the city?"
"Only some. The majority have no known means of escape, and some have even been several levels up. I'm having crews further inspect these sites, but the crews are already working double shifts to cover all potential security risks."
"Postpone any further inspections." ordered Faith "Reassign all tertiary security teams to reinforce critical sectors in the city. But summon all elite combat units to standby at their nearest entrances into the tunnels. We want every available squad to be in position before we give the order to enter. Do you understand?"
Lodex tapped rapidly on his tablet. "At once, my lords."
"Tell us about these new captives we have." said Pride.
"All three protoforms were at the Colosseum for Tracer's fight. They appear to have had no prior meetings. All work in different sectors and perform different functions. None have any prior record of misconduct. These are indeed the result of Tracer's display in the Colosseum."
Greed frowned, "Tracer didn't tell these protoforms to plot an attack. He just helped them speak their true intentions. Three today; three thousand tomorrow."
"The only thing we need to know is whether to hang their unsparked bodies whole or in pieces across the city!" said Malice.
"We will hopefully have more than three by this day's end, with Tracer's chiefly among them." said Greed.
The Quintessons travelled through private corridors and skywalks until they arrived at the generator. Lodex Gamma and Atross followed closely behind them. They came to the primary refinery level where a team of enforcers stood over three kneeling protoforms. Makeshift detonators were lying nearby, perhaps intended to rupture the energon reservoirs or the mass energy reconditioner. The Quintessons inspected the energon vats with amusement before standing over the kneeling captives. Greed immediately took the centre slot.
"I see three malfunctioning pieces of hardware. Guard, out with their sparks and we'll be off to more important issues."
Before the enforcers could make a move, Faith took control and cancelled the order.
"As you were." Faith leaned their collective head close to the nearest captive. "How old are you? We have three protoforms with commendable service records and no history of insubordination who have infiltrated a generator complex with all the gear needed to shut down the entire grid. One might think we've done something to upset you. But we are at a complete loss as to what that could be."
Pride slid into the centre slot. "Truly we have done everything to improve your lives. Yet, we ask so little of you in return."
Faith returned, as he examined the next captive. "How old are you? Is the thought of your spark going out making your actions needing some greater purpose? Time is slipping away from you, and perhaps you believe you have nothing to lose? Perhaps someone has planted these thoughts into your head, someone who only wants to incite needless acts of destruction. Could someone be manipulating you for their own gain?"
Malice took control and leaned in close. "If it's destruction you seek, you shall have it!"
Faith regained control and moved on to the final captive. "How old are you? I can see in your optics none of you are less than two weeks old. You are all indeed in your last few days of life. The fear of death makes one exceptionally brave doesn't it?" He waited, watching the protoforms closely. "Nothing to say? Hmm, it just so happens we're looking for brave individuals like yourselves. Yes, those sparks inside you yearn for… purpose, yes. You want your lives to have meaning. Is it because of Tracer? He's older than all of you. Did you know that? And yet he's still fully functional. Many are saying he's a hero, but would a hero learn the secret of eternal life and keep it all for himself? Yes, it's true. Tracer was our first subject to receive the cure. And look at how he squandered his gift: fighting against us who gave him everything. We only want to help you all reach your full potential. There is no resistance because there is no divide. Your triumph is our triumph."
The third captive slowly turned his optics upward. When he looked at the Quintessons there was no contempt, but there was a hint of longing.
"I see potential in this one… what is your name?"
"Grids."
Tentacles slithered around the plates of the protoform's torso. Faith grinned, "Be brave, Grids." The Quintessons flung the meagre robot high into the energon vat. Faith signalled Lodex to lower a hook and pull out the remains with the overhead winch. An energon-soaked protoform emerged. Trembling with exhilaration. Before the hook could bring him down to ground level, he leaped away and hopped between the vats as he slid down. He looked anxiously at a nearby enforcer, perhaps wondering if the two were suddenly equals in strength.
Faith smiled. "Tell your friends here what you think of our gift."
Grids clenched his hands into fists. "I feel… unstoppable."
"Have we earned your loyalty?" Three other Quintessons grinned as Faith lead them beside the rejuvenated protoform. "I think you'll find that our price for immortality is more than reasonable. Swear on your spark that you will serve us and we will take you with us to the farthest reaches of the universe. You may someday have entire worlds to rule however you see fit. You morality and values will be left entirely to you, so long as you give your loyalty to us."
The protoform stood at attention, "I will serve the Quintessons… I swear on my spark."
The Quintessons turned to the remaining captives, "Immortality is but an oath away. Would you have your companion take all the glory for himself?"
The first captive was clearly fixated on the energon dripping off his companion. The Quintessons knew he was convinced. The second was clearly refusing to look at any of them. He looked up briefly to meet the Quintessons with a gaze of pure contempt.
Faith glared down at the defiant protoform. "Two will serve adequately. Bring them along. As for the third… give him the cure, and then bring his spark to our private workshop." As the enforcer lead the captives away Faith turned again to Lodex Gamma. "Are the squads in position?"
"Yes, my masters."
"Purge the tunnels."
"At once, my masters."
Faith turned to the lean assassin drone. "Atross, you are no longer needed in the Colosseum. Follow these pipes into the tunnels beneath the city. And eliminate any protoforms you find." Atross looked down the deep pit and cocked his head playfully before meandering off seemingly without care.
Tracer stared across the dungeon hallway, dumbfounded by the phantom of the drone he used to be.
"You spoke to me before." Tracer said, "You were the one who told me to break into the Quintesson's palace."
"Drone didn't tell you to do anything, he only made you aware. That protoform follows his emotions, just as he always has."
"How could you have known the palace wasn't under heavy guard?"
"We both see through the same optics. Drone saw when we were inside the palace before. It was full of enforcers. We saw the same enforcers all around the Colosseum. Senses are functional; awareness is always pending."
"My senses must be malfunctioning now. Why can I see you?"
"Drone must show that protoform something before he can understand." The phantom drone raised his arm and the walls of the cell began to glow. Tracer looked closely and saw digital symbols scrolling across the wall's surface.
"It's code. Your code?" asked Tracer.
"Our code." The phantom drone corrected, "This is not only what this drone is, but it also defines all the laws that this body must follow. That protoform remembers when we were first brought online?"
"Yes," Tracer smiled, "Kaetor was entering the code manually before he had to stop."
"Drone was reset into novice spectator mode. He was meant to learn by observing, and through trial and error. Had we not been bound to one another he would have mastered all his required tasks within a day and been left to repeat them over and over for as long as needed. Such as he was he longed to learn and to be commanded. His future promised to be tedious but with great purpose." The drone turned and touched the wall in front of Tracer. "And this is the code they wrote for him to follow. Watch. Can you see?" Tracer stared at the scrolling symbols unsure of what he was looking for. He watched until he saw a symbol from the code vanish, leaving nothing in its place. "The spark energies break down the programming of the drone. Protoforms weren't believed to live this long. This degradation would have gone unnoticed. But now the code must be repaired."
"Why have I never heard of this?"
"This drone was supposed to be taken out of spectator mode. But it appears all codes are considered lost after joining with a spark. Nobody wondered what a spectator program might learn after being displaced by a spark. All he had was data. Diagnostics. He watched the energies of this spark as it jumped from one wild emotion to the next. He knows much about how you think. And where you let him, he had fixed where the code had come undone." The phantom raised his right hand, and somehow Tracer felt himself raising his right hand in response.
"When I got my new hand." Tracer said understandingly.
"The hardware wasn't responding to the signals. Giving any incorrect code caused the hand to lock up in storage mode. But instead of letting your emotions take control, you gave up and allowed your diligent subconscious to find the proper signal. One small task, and it changed everything, because only a drone in spectator mode can re-write its own code. Suddenly his life had meaning once again."
"That's why you're here. That's what you want me to do. You need me to let you repair your… our code."
"As this drone has said before the keys have been with you the entire time. You can enter a state where the conscious yields to the subconscious. To other forms of life, this is known as dreaming. I know what you're thinking. This protoform is thinking this is all an elaborate trick, and once the drone has control of the code he'll somehow corrupt this spark and take full control of this body and return to serve the Quintessons. Yes, that's exactly what you were thinking and the answer is no. The code is bound to this spark. This drone could separate himself from it with as much success as you would from removing your own head. If we must be so joined, he is compelled to prolong our survival any way he can."
"So I let you out, and you'll repair the codes that keep us functioning."
"Yes." The phantom said with great relief.
"Can you fix the code that locks me into storage mode?"
The phantom paused, looking almost humbled. "Some data tracks are too close to vital codes that keep us functioning. If this drone erases the wrong sequence we could be paralyzed or blind. If he had logged information on what data tracks were coded first he may have been able to deconstruct our core program and build up from just the essentials. But the Quintessons must have implemented those locks prior to the rest of our core program. The Quintessons were rather keen to choose that exact emotional trigger to disable protoforms. The only reason to fear protoforms is if they are unified, and the only reason to unify is because they have hope. The weakness of sentient life is apparently altruism: the greater good is achieved through sacrifice, often with little concern for consequences."
"I should have expected a drone to see it like that."
The drone faced directly at Tracer. His optics narrowed. "Feelings alone don't accomplish anything. Look around you. These bars, these walls, you're feelings lead us here."
"When are you going to give that up?" Tracer groaned.
The drone raised his voice, "I cannot be free until you admit that without logic to guide you, you're lost."
"Go away!"
"We are inseparable!"
"GO AWAY!" Tracer stepped back into the bars of his cell.
The phantom drone approached Tracer. "Now the protoform understands what has become of the drone. Now you understand how meaningless your life becomes when you're a prisoner inside your own body."
Tracer held the drone away at arm's length. "What do you want from me?"
The drone swayed as it gripped Tracer's arm. "I need you to let go." He said calmly.
"Let go of what?"
"Everything! Your life was an accident. You have no control, and deserve nothing from anyone. No pity, no gratitude, no affection…"
"STOP IT!" Tracer turned around and tried to pry the bars open, to no avail.
"Don't deny it." The phantom's voice surrounded him, "This drone knows what you're thinking. He's always known. You don't want to live anymore. You want it all to end. You want us both to die right here in this very cell!"
"NO!" Tracer's spark flared in his chest. He heard the sting of laughter, he felt the contemptuous stares of every protoform in the Colosseum. He closed his optics and pulled until his arms felt they might break. "No, no, no…"
"Yes, you do."
Tracer's body collapsed to the floor. He closed his optics and felt his body give up to gravity. 'Let every piece of me fall. Let time pass and forget I ever lived.' Tracer took in cool air until his spark felt like ice. "Yes… yes, I want to die. Escia said I'm nothing like Armaetrus, and she's right. He lived half as long and everyone—everyone looks at my face and they see him. I had to live up to his reputation. I kept telling myself to be some kind of noble, selfless hero. And I hated every second of it. How can someone always be so perfect? One hundred years from now they'll still tell the story of Armaetrus, but no one will even remember my name."
"Someone may."
After what felt like hours Tracer looked up. In the cell across now stood TL. Her optics were open wide with longing. Her soft voice wasn't echoing in the emptiness of the dungeon, it echoed inside Tracer's mind. "I can't just forget about them! Some risked their sparks for me and the others…" The image flickered for a moment before speaking again. "The others said someone destroyed the generator. Someone fought so that I and others could be free. All this time I thought… but it wasn't you, was it?"
Tracer's voice barely broke into a whisper. "No. That wasn't me… look at me. I'm not a hero."
When Tracer looked up again it wasn't TL standing anymore. It was the assembler, revealing the bright spark inside his chest.
"You didn't even know me." Tracer muttered.
"You're right. I choose the resistance." said the assembler.
"But I couldn't take you there. I left you alone. Did you ever make it?" Tracer closed his optics. He tried hard to close himself off in his mind. When he looked up again he was looking at a perfect reflection. His same eyes, his same face, sprawled in the same careless position on the floor.
His reflection whispered. "I tried to save Lug when three enforcers came to take him away!"
Tracer rolled his optics, "Yeah, for all the good that did. It's easy to do what the hero ought to do. But you're not the hero if you try and fail. Everyone knows you were only pretending." He felt someone lean down next to him. Phantom words, his own voice.
"Don't be a hero then. Just be. Tracer."
Tracer rolled onto his back and looked at the featureless ceiling. He felt himself chuckle. The chuckle kept rolling until he was laughing. He laughed hard until fluid was leaking from his optics. A strange sensation.
"So I guess we're even now." Tracer said, "Is it over? Have I set you free yet?"
"Yes." The voice came from the phantom drone standing at Tracer's feet. He looked satisfied. "But this drone had a reason to make you face your emotions. Remember the code. This drone will do more than repair the damage; he may eventually rewrite how this body of ours works. The code controls our energy distribution, our senses and our reaction time. The laws that bind us both. If given enough time, the entire core program might be altered. But we must be willing to change on every level: on the physical level, on the coded level, and on the emotional level."
"I guess I should thank you for leaving me in charge of our emotions."
The drone knelt down. "But this drone will leave you with one final secret." Tracer saw the drone's open palm holding a projected wave-pattern. "This is how you've always been, let's call it your 'receptive state': everything you do is in response to the needs of those around you. Watch closely… this was your spark in the arena. Do you remember this moment?" Tracer saw the wave-pattern replaced with a chaotic flash of pulses. "You stopped worrying, you stopped wondering and your spark became something else. You were driven to destroy everything that ever served the Quintessons, even another spark—something you consider alive. And when you did that you broke through all the locks in our code. You couldn't be motivated by hope, so instead you were motivated by rage. None of the codes could block your control, and the power. You're spark was amplified, boosting not only power output but somehow also strengthening our material body. You only sustained this energy pattern for a short time, but these readings show you could have run faster, jumped higher and hit harder than you were ever designed for. Trust this drone, he watched everything… Look at what you did to the bars."
Tracer stood up and looked at where his hands had pulled on the bars. He could count the imprint of each finger left in both bars, which were nearly ripped out of the frame. "I didn't do that. You're making me see things. This's another one of your tricks."
The phantom shrugged, smiling. "Maybe. I will let you decide for yourself when you wake up."
Tracer sputtered, "Wuh—Wake up?"
"That's correct, the recoding has begun. You've been dreaming this whole time." Tracer felt the grip of fear so tight his limbs refused to move. A weight bore down on him where he stood. He heard the sound of solid ore grinding and crumbling as he looked down to see the floor beneath him collapse. He plummeted down a cavernous hole, passing through layer upon layer of strata. Tracer flailed wildly to keep from tumbling head over feet. A bottom was fast approaching. Tracer braced himself for impact as he passed through the solid mass. The tunnel began again going deeper and deeper still. The layers of ore around him dimmed as the pit darkened. A single light waited at the end of the tunnel. The light grew brighter and warmer as Tracer fell into it. It felt softer and cleaner than he ever thought possible.
Tracer finally wrenched to force his optics open. In doing so he thrashed himself to a crouch. He could hear a sound echoing off through the dungeon, someone had been screaming in complete terror. The sensation of falling was slowly letting up as Tracer recognized the voice echoing down the corridors was his own.
He looked up and saw two of the bars had been pulled nearly out of their sockets.