CH4 - Mono No Aware

— — —

"You wretched excuses for life. Trying so hard to adapt yourselves to the vast reaches we have already conquered. Cutting yourselves open, programming yourselves, adding this, subtracting that. All to make yourselves into what I already am." - Thieving Magpie

— — —

The mind is just software. We understand it. Mostly.

The body is just a shell.

Death? Just another disease. We've overcome it.

Everyone dies.

The vast majority of humanity survived the Fall through egocast. Their egos transmitted offworld. They didn't die. Obviously. They can tell, they are who they were yesterday…

No other possibility is allowed.

Some worry over continuity of consciousness, but no one questions it when they lie down to sleep. Whenever the signal drops to a simple wave, devoid of meaning. In that moment, does some mysterious "self" that looks out your eyes vanish? Replaced upon awakening with a new, different "you". Confident in their continuity. It was only sleep. Anyone will tell you it's just a "different" state of consciousness. Nothing was lost. Not a lie— they firmly believe it.

No other possibility is allowed.

Don't think about it.

And if there are things you can't forget… we can fix that. Just a "transfer" into a simulspace, a few (hundred) rounds of iterative (stab in the dark) psychosurgery on your mind. We'll create a you that, when instanced and tested, has the desired properties! (Eventually.)

One more transfer. You wake up— or rather it was all "seamless", your memory says so— and it just doesn't bother you anymore. Whatever it was.

I think about it.

People still manage to die. Even with cortical stacks, backups and forks. Especially in dirty business, risky business. And if they don't? They'll die by inches. What meaning is continuity when they inevitably become a stranger? When they become unrecognizable. Are they the same person?

After you've lived long enough, assuming you don't just... erase it... the scar tissue builds up.

I learn not to get too attached.

In the most optimistic future… do you think the man (thing) staring into the last black hole as the universe dies will still be "you"? You have more in common with a tree.

You are already dead.

Despite all this, I find myself a fool.

My first instinct was right. Lisa was trouble.

— — —

Get me a location, Sia.

[Processing…]

[It is not possible to trace this call with current capabilities. However, the phrase 'black hole' can be linked to an intense gravity field. A violent gravitational disturbance was detected around the same time. Location: a storage facility only a few miles from here.]

A thought had it plotted. This time, it was not a simple arrow, but a line superimposed over the world, showing the best possible path.

Robotic arms quickly assembled my armor. Articulated smartmatter and slabs of metal locking together over the bodysuit I always wore. Weapons affixed to my hips and my back.

Had I planned for violence, I'd have had better weapons and armor available. Unfortunately, I needed to make do with what I had.

On my left hip was a vortex ring gun, a less-lethal two-handed weapon. It detonated special cartridges, generating a blast of explosive pressure. The barrel twisted those forces into a high-speed vortex ring, a spinning, expanding donut shaped concussive blast. It was designed so that I could add chemicals, but this was close quarters. Lisa was far too vulnerable for that.

On the other side I had a stunner. It did as the name implied, creating a momentary conductive plasma channel through the air and then transmitting a powerful, modulated electric current through it. I had numerous other devices secreted throughout my harness, but those were my primary weapons.

My plasma rifle was magnetically clamped to my upper back.

More than enough, normally. But against these 'tinkers'? A bomb tinker, even. I wasn't sure.

But life is what happens when you are busy making plans.

I followed the green line floating in space, sprinting where I could. I vaulted barriers as best I could, and by the ten-second mark, Sia had a parkour skillsoft swapped in. The route flickered, and I tic-tac jumped my way up the walls of an alleyway, spun on one heel, and started running the rooftops.

The distance to the storage facility as the crow flies was 2.3 miles. Even with this heavily streamlined ground route, it was around 3.4 miles. At the full limits of my morph?

[Estimated travel time: five minutes.]

Too long.

I couldn't help but wonder what I would find. The unwritten rules suggested Lisa should be fine… but if she believed that, would she have been so panicked? Her flaw was hardly jumping at the first sign of danger; if anything, it was overconfidence. The implications were unpleasant.

Green highlighted the boundaries of the storage facility coming into sight, a red dot marking the gravity spike. It wasn't necessary, though— I could see people running around. Some looked like generic muscle, but others were wearing suits, school uniforms, and other attire that looked completely out of place compared to the pistols and rifles held clumsily in their hands.

I leaped onto the first storage locker, rolling to avoid too much noise. The effort was wasted. Any noise I made was swallowed up by the loud cracks and rumbles of explosions. Quickly scanning the scene, I finally spotted the Undersiders. I had seen them before— Lisa was kind enough to show me costumed selfies in expectation of 'toys'. Wouldn't want any armor to crimp their style.

It was unfortunate that she had not asked for gear sooner.

They were standing surrounded by at least thirty people in a half circle, all armed with guns. I couldn't risk attacking, or they might reflexively fire— and all it would take is one lucky hit.

Moving as quietly as I could, I approached. It got easier, as a distorted sound filled the air. It trook a moment to identify it as poorly resynthesized laughter. The woman wearing a gas mask— Bakuda, I assumed— shoved a gun in some kid's hands.

She turned and pointed at a thug by the jeep. "Get the camera out and start rolling." The man reached into the jeep, grabbing a camera. He aimed at the Undersiders, his hand wavering.

"Thank you for waiting, Park Jihoo." Bakuda turned her attention to the kid with the gun. "You can shoot someone now."

I tensed, glanding Kick. There was no more time.

The kid, shaking, started to lift his arm. I moved.

A blazing line formed between him and my stunner, and he jerked. Without any warning, his body liquefied, the soupy mess splattering to the ground. The crowd screamed. My mind stalled at the unexpected result. Just long enough for Bakuda to trace the afterimage, her head following. She was looking at me. She jerked, pointing.

"Shoot him!"

Sluggishly, the crowd pulled together, firing their guns in my direction. Unfortunately for them, they were obviously untrained. Few hits landed, and those that did inflicted only scratches. One thing was for sure: they weren't pointing at the Undersiders now. The moment the thought solidified, I pulled my vortex gun and fired.

The cartridge detonated, the chemical energy transformed into a diffused plasma. The energetic gases were pushed violently through a mix of physical and electromagnetic channels. A ring of gas, visible only through the way it distorted light, came bursting out of the weapon, the roof bending and tearing as the recoil stressed my boots' griplock. The vortex ring smashed into the crowd, knocking them down and sending several tumbling through the dirt of the alley.

In the back of my mind, I noted vortexes didn't cause my targets to spontaneously melt.

The Undersiders took the opportunity to run, but the explosions further down the alley suggested they weren't off the hook.

I turned to fire at Bakuda. "Dead man's switch!" Bakuda suddenly shouted, panic evident even through the synthesizer. She started running, aiming a grenade launcher at me.

Processing her words had me stop at the last moment, instead leaping to the side. The canister zipped through the air, and then I was blinded by fire. Warning lights blinked madly as I bounced across another storage locker, clipping the edge and then hitting the ground.

I stood up quickly, turning to see Bakuda jumping into the jeep, the engine roaring to life. I lifted the vortex gun before pausing. On the dirt with nothing for me to grip, it could throw me backwards and still do nothing to stop a several-ton jeep. The stunner had melted the last person I shot…

Before I could think of a solution, the jeep came racing toward me, and I had no more time. On reflex I fired my stunner at the driver. The wire-thin conductive plasma channel struck the windshield, only carving a short distorted scratch before cutting out. Then the jeep was on me, and I jumped to the side, rolling and popping back up as the jeep swerved, first right, then left as it skidded madly on the dirt. Finally, the driver managed to spin it around.

"Who the FUCK do you think you are!" shouted Bakuda, the synthetic voice echoing through the alley. She was standing upright in the jeep, fumbling with her grenade launcher. I ignored her, putting one foot against the locker behind me. I aimed the vortex gun carefully, and fired.

The nearly invisible donut of air flew just above the hood, clipping and shattering the windshield. Bakuda was knocked backwards by the wind. I slapped the vortex gun to my side and drew the stunner. I fired, and this time the line connected with the driver.

An eruption of light and sound blinded me, and it cleared just in time for me to see the burning, shredded jeep barrel into me, slamming me into and through the storage locker behind me. The reactive plating on my abdomen blew, but it was meaningless in the face of at least two tons of metal— all my armor could do was distribute the force.

[Severe bruising and assorted organ damage is in effect. Multiple skeletal fractures. Dispensing MRDR.]

"...Let's see you get up from this!"

I heard a thump, and before I could move my eyes burned.

All of me burned, actually— freezerburn? I blinked, the world blurring. Literally; there was something wrong with my eyes.

I had a face-concealing helmet, and it wasn't compromised— this didn't make any sense. It was like my armor was completely ignored.

[Utilizing all active scanning methods. Compositing AR.]

Everything turned into a kaleidoscope, then the blurred world reappeared, covered in highlighting and lines. What I assumed to be thick ice encrusted everything.

Sia, tactical sitrep!

[The storage locker is frozen. At least 30% of the volume is filled with ice. Massive temperature drop measured by all sensors. Smart vac suit, reactive armor, vortex gun, stunner, plasma rifle outside operational temperature range. Rapid temperature drop has caused mechanical damage. Severe tissue damage. Body temperature rapidly decreasing.]

I struggled to move, but nothing happened. Formerly flexible smartmatter was frozen in place, and it left me with no leverage.

[Body temperature is dangerously low.]

I needed a way out.

Sia…

My thoughts seemed sluggish.

...fire the vortex gun.

The gun on my hip exploded violently, every cartridge inside detonating moments later in a chain reaction. The combined force obliterated the ice formations, sending much of it flying out the only opening like frozen buckshot. The jeep was shoved a full meter back, and the damaged joints of my bodysuit fractured. For a moment, I couldn't even think as blinding pain racked me. After a moment, though, neurological thresholds tripped. The sensations were clamped.

Looking at my entoptics, I saw the cause: my left hip had been shattered.

There was no time to think about it.

I fell forward onto the hood of the jeep, reaching and pulling myself forward. Looking out the locker's destroyed roll-up door I saw Bakuda, a dozen feet away, turning back towards me.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you? Look at you, a broken wreck. You lost the moment you decided to fuck with me. You're not on my level. Just accept it and die."

My vortex gun was destroyed. Even if I could get to them fast enough, the stunner and plasma rifle could not be trusted to work. More importantly, I couldn't trust the stunner wouldn't trip the dead man's switch she had claimed to have, detonating everything. I had no idea where Lisa was— that was a risk I couldn't take. I was out of options, and out of time. Bakuda entered my line of sight, just beyond the wrecked jeep. She lifted the grenade launcher.

What a feeble end. A joke.

A momentary blur from the left was the only warning, my cold-deadened mind only truly processing the imagery after the fact. A giant quadrupedal monster of raw muscle and jagged bone slammed directly into Bakuda. I heard a distorted scream as she was carried out of sight, followed by an explosion. Then another, and another. Then nothing.

Just the slow popping of cooling ice, and the faint sound of burning in the distance.

I laboriously dragged myself forward, over the wreckage and out of the shattered storage locker. Looking around, I couldn't see anyone— not Bakuda, the monster, the Undersiders…

I sat up with some difficulty, my back to the rear of the jeep.

My body temperature wasn't dropping anymore, which was good. The Hyperbright morph normally produced an obscene amount of heat, dispersed by the fins on my head. This had likely saved my life. While my equipment was frozen solid and my body was near-hypothermic, my brain had been only borderline. Even a minute longer in that locker-turned-freezer and I would have started suffering from mental effects not dissimilar to intoxication.

Not the time to think about that.

Sia, call Lisa.

[Opening cellular communication with contact: Lisa… Connected.]

"Kind of busy," Lisa said. I heard muffled cursing in the background.

"I'm familiar with the feeling," I said roughly. "Where's Bakuda?"

"She's gone," she said. "She melted Bitch's dogs, but after getting her left arm chewed on and some broken ribs she decided to cut her losses. We didn't chase her because she still had one arm and grenades— not worth getting in strike range, and not worth cornering the crazy bitch. She could've gone full kamikaze."

"Please don't get cornered by a mad bomber in the future. I have a limited supply of bones."

"Bones? Oh, shit, you're hurt. I thought your armor would… another bomb. Okay. Fuck. We're all fucked up, so I'm calling the boss for a ride. We'll have them drive in and pick you up too."

"No," I rejected. I didn't trust Coil on the best of days. I sure as hell didn't trust him as a cripple.

"What? No, look, I know you and Coil don't get along but if you're—"

"I'll be fine. Don't worry," I interrupted. "I'll see you later."

The line was quiet, broken only by stray noise from her end. Muffled cursing.

"...Fine," she said curtly. "Whatever."

[Connection closed.]

— — —

I had Sia retask drones usually responsible for delivering PHO orders to pick me up. I hadn't made them for this, but as they were just a blueprint from my database, multi-drone lifts were there in the design and the software. Explosions in the distance made for tension during the flight, but in the end I made it the few miles home without incident. Hab automechs carried me inside.

I had made a terrible mistake.

My plan for the foreseeable future had been to stay in my base. I spent almost all fabrication time on upgrading said fabricators, racing my way to the finish line. After all, if I was staying in my base, then there was no need for luxuries, like the hideously complex healing vat.

That was clearly no longer the case, if it ever was. Needless to say, the industrial fabber was already working on one.

A brief check of current news indicated that Bakuda had not simply attacked only the Undersiders. There were bombs going off all over the city. Power networks, public and private schools, libraries, transportation networks on road, rail, and air… the entire city was in chaos. Dozens were dead, and that was only what had been verified so far.

All a distraction. Something to strain government response to the limit. Meanwhile, the teleporter Oni Lee attacked the Protectorate headquarters out in the bay. The result was a broken force field, courtesy of her strange, physics-breaking bombs, and the ABB leader Lung broken out of prison.

Whatever unwritten rules governed parahuman politics, this city was being strained to a breaking point. I'd tried to stay out of things.

It was clear that was no longer an option.

Not unless I was willing to write off Lisa; she would no doubt be hip deep in the mess. Even if I did wash my hands of the girl, I was already going to be on Bakuda's shit list, and Coil was a time bomb waiting to explode.

The gatecrashing armor I had been wearing when I arrived on this Earth wasn't going to cut it anymore. On Earth Bet, there were no heavy hitters to guard my back. Even Bitch of the Undersiders was really a glass cannon, as her capture by Bakuda proved.

Of course, even as I queued heavier combat armor, I knew it wasn't really a solution. Bakuda's bombs had pounded home the lesson that tinkertech was an outside context problem. I could not rely on armor, because that armor was built on basic assumptions about physics.

Assumptions I could no longer trust to hold.

Dodging… I simply wasn't some amazing fighter. It was untenable.

An automech trundled past, and I glanced at it. Perhaps…

Drones. Even if they are outright destroyed, the only thing lost is a machine.

With a thought, I opened the blueprint for the 'Steel' model synthetic morph. I removed the nuclear RTG immediately. Then I turned to the battery.

With regret, I deleted the momentum battery, replacing it with a mid-range carbon-germanium-lithium chemical hybrid. I downgraded servos, removed the cosmetic articulation, dropped redundancies...

I finished by removing the other part that monopolized fab time: the high-quality cyberbrain. I stuck the budget cyberbrain from a mass-market case morph in instead. It could still host an ego, if it came to it— it just did so emulated with a cruddy 120 terabytes of RAM rather than proper FPGAs. More than enough for forks of my muse.

By the time I was done, the manufacturing time had tanked. I queued five; that was all I could afford, and frankly? At this point, I didn't expect to get them all done before something happened.

— — —