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"The other gods! The other gods! The gods of the outer hells that guard the feeble gods of earth!... Look away... Go back... Do not see! Do not see! The vengeance of the infinite abysses... That cursed, that damnable pit... Merciful gods of earth, I am falling into the sky!"
"YOU CARE TO EXPLAIN THAT?" They seemed to be moving, but Shepard hardly noticed.
"The Pathosis infected the Intelligence of The Leviathan Solution. If it hadn't, you would have been left with very limited choices, none of which would have had outcomes favourable to your continued existence. The Intelligence had arrived at one solution with three branches. All of which would have necessitated an elimination of this Receptacle. As I said, it was terribly flawed."
"They added the option to counteract the Reapers' barriers?"
"As you saw, it was the most expedient method, the one that offered the maximum in evolutionary benefits."
Shepard looked down, saw himself slowly drifting across that great open space, toward the huge 'being' in the center of it. He'd long-since stopped being surprised or dazzled by anything.
"People are still dying in the millions, everywhere." Mulholland was unmoved, not particularly surprised to be moving along with him.
"Evolution extinguishes species constantly. As I said, it plays no favourites. What makes ours exempt?"
Shepard opened his mouth, closed it. What were you going to say, Vic? If you were religious, you'd have a standard answer which would just be dismissed as irrelevant, any scientific 'explantion' would meet the same response. Life doesn't move to any stage of perfection or completion, it just moves. It adapts or it vanishes, all dependant on the random – and sometimes not so random – forces of the universe. A random gamma ray burst from dying star a million light years away can kill an entire solar system. Just… happens. No malevolence, no benevolence. It's the only thing that makes sense, even if it kicks one in the ego. So, he just nodded instead, kept his mouth shut.
"The Intelligence was a woefully limited machine. In all of its time, it derived only three solutions it felt worthy of consideration from available variables, and rejected all others. Granted, they were the three it determined most beneficial to itself. All creations mimic their creators."
"Even that?" He pointed to the being above them.
With a straight face, Mulholland looked directly at him and said simply,
"No."
"Didn't think so," he said dryly. "According to the Intelligence, at least two of those didn't really serve it at all – one would have destroyed them and one would have given me complete control over them."
"Destroying the Reapers would have undone much of the technology upon which your society is based. That would have served their primary mandate. Controlling the Reapers would have drawn the full attention of all the Leviathans. This would have also served their primary mandate."
"I see. So, They simply made the other solutions it had considered untenable selectable again?"
"Correct. For all of its sophistication, it was in the end only a construct and therefore had no choice but to obey."
"How'd the quarians lose control of the geth then?" he asked, only half-serious.
"Fear. Those who could control the geth chose not to, and those who required it did not know how." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You know yourself, that save for self-defence, the geth continued to do precisely what they had been created for, yes?"
Shepard considered a moment, then nodded. It certainly sounded true.
"Even now, the geth are controllable."
"Because they're still machines?"
"In that they now consider themselves people."
Shepard blinked at that.
"It's that simple, is it?" Skeptical.
"Individuals are chaotic. You, for instance, are a shaper of events because you are not 'loyalty-specific', as it were. You usher in change far beyond your physically-limited sphere. In contrast, the geth were, before Legion, basically one individual. Now they are many. It is simplistic but essentially true."
"Multitudes are easier to control than individuals?"
"Of course. There would be no religion, war or civilization without this phenomenon."
Shepard considered it, had to agree. 'Mob mentality' writ subtly on a large scale. Psychologists called it the 'Coliseum Effect' – why people in large events all tended to go with the general atmosphere – dictators used it at rallies, performers at, well, performances, priests at evangelical meetings. One could attend a rally uncommitted and by the end of it be cheering or booing with everyone else without any conscious shift. It would only be after, separated from the crowd, that an individual would realize – but not always – that they had been swept up and gone right along – even if it opposed their personal beliefs. Some even likened the phenomenon to a 'temporary psychological virus' – there were rumours of salarians even seeking to develop an actual virus that mimicked the effect – mind control on a colossal scale. So far – as far as he knew, they hadn't succeeded.
Beneath their feet, the Milkiway slowly turned. He liked the view, almost swore he could see worlds burning. He had felt guilty about taking his 'vacation' when so much remained to be done, but it had been that or burn out so thoroughly he'd be useless forever. Like they'd all told him, he'd earned it, and then some.
He had a feeling he was about to go back to work.
"You are where you appear to be." She told him as they traveled. Shepard thought to ask where they were going, but figured he'd just wait and see.
"Where were we?"
"Transverse space. It is a pocket of your reality folded upon itself, and then put at right angles to itself."
"You could have just said, 'don't ask'." She smiled at that.
"Neither of us would have survived much longer there."
"You're a mouthpiece but…"
"Still human. At least I think I am. Feel like it. Have a bit of a headache."
"I can imagine."
"We are as far away as we appear, if distance means anything."
"I don't feel as anxious about that as I think I might have otherwise."
"There's no need for anxiety." Amy went back to that segueing in and out of her own personality and whatever was giving her details. "Our destination."
She pointed before them. In the distance, growing rapidly, was the spitting image of the Citadel, only many, many times more massive. There was no way to determine actual scale, but Shepard instinctively knew it to be so. Around it was arrayed a series of rings of what appeared to be stars, spaced evenly apart, running the length of the station, as if this Citadel sat in the center of a rather precise star cluster.
"Another Citadel?"
"The …Alpha Citadel, to use your terminology. There are many Citadels. The one you know is only a small junction within your Galaxy. So far the only one you have discovered." Shepard nodded.
"…since there are still a lot of closed Relays."
"Many are beyond your ability to open. Most are not within your Galaxy. This was by design."
"Is it as big as it looks?"
"The Alpha Citadel is approximately twenty-five times the size of any other Citadel. It operates precisely the same way – with minor differences, of course, as the others."
"So… the Reapers built the Relays…" he stopped, considered, amended. "This Pathosis agent of yours influenced the Reapers to build the Relays." Another nod. "Am I correct in assuming those stars are also your creations?"
They were a little too precisely aligned around this Citadel.
"They are not stars." Mulholland pointed to one in the distance. "They are…" she hesitated, looking for a word. "Compressions. Pockets of modified Transverse spacetime used as …storage, as it were."
"Storage? Of what?" Shepard's back ached for a moment. He rolled his shoulder and the ache receded.
"Alternatives would be the closest analogy. Inside are housed variants on designs of evolution. Raw material. This material is kept in appropriate environments. From here, modifications can be made to the main Receptacle. Occasionally variant samples from the Receptacle are extracted and stored."
"If I understand this correctly – if I'm following this, and please, correct me if I'm way off-base here – my Galaxy is basically a big pot, on the evolutionary 'simmer' setting, and every once in a blue moon, you reach in there…" he pointed to the 'star', "to pull out fresh or different ingredients to change the flavour. Sometimes you turn up the heat, sometimes you turn it down. Every once-in-a-while you stir things. Sound about right?"
'Mulholland' looked at him with that combination look she'd had, that "dumbass gets something right/I'm impressed" one.
"Exceedingly crude, but essentially correct. To follow your metaphor, sometimes we remove flavours and add new ones to change the recipe. Sometimes we alter ingredients altogether."
"And this 'Pathosis' thing is how you do it." Another nod. Shepard looked up as they moved between the open arms of the Alpha Citadel. It was colossal. Odd to see it so dark, though.
"Sometimes," she told him as they dipped between the arms and accelerated, "The Pathosis is only one agent. It is generally the most expedient. Also, Variants from the Compressions escape. This is permitted, but it is not common. If too many escape, it can be disruptive." Shepard noticed the speed as immense, but felt nothing. "Sometimes, the disruptions are permitted, like the Leviathans. If it is too disruptive, it can ruin the recipe, as it were. One such variant is on the path of being just that."
"What is it?"
"It's called by its enemies the 'Pandemonia'. It's a conglomeration of Variants that have become aware – crudely - of the Pattern and Method, that believe the Pathosis an extension of a deity or deities and therefore is an instrument of a 'divine will'. In your terminology they are 'fanatics'. The Resumption has begun, but the Pandemoniacs are set to unduly influence its progress. They are already in play and will soon be in force. They have the capability on your level to do immense damage. Their fleets are huge, their weapons are not based on mass effect technology, but dark energy manipulation."
"We use dark energy derivatives."
"Mass Effect technology allows you to manipulate dark energy on a basic level. This Variant Threat uses dark energy as a primary energy source. For instance, the disruption of the star Dholen was their doing."
"What was the point?"
"To do it. A test of an idea."
Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"A test – to do what? Blow up stars?"
"An effective weapon."
"You can't just wave your hand and stop them?" Mulholland looked at him as if he were an idiot. He'd seen that look a few too many times in the past.
"No. Everything that can happen is allowed to happen. In a way, the Pandemonia is also a force for change and an evolutionary modifier. However, if they disrupt too much, they will, like the Reapers, become the dominant variance within the Receptacle. The Resumption will be once again interrupted and the experiment corrupted."
"Which means, what – another billion years of pointless murder…?" She shook her head.
"This Receptacle will be reset and repurposed." Her tone made what she was saying clear.
"So, instead of just a few selected races, They'll purge the whole Galaxy and start over, with 'assets' from your 'Compressions'."
"They will also be forced to purge the Compression from which the Pandemonia originate and any they have influenced. If that happens, this Receptacle will simply be judged 'failed' and eliminated completely." She thought a moment. "Erased completely."
"They can destroy an entire Galaxy, just like that?" He put up a hand to stop her reply. "Of course They can, They built it in the first place. So much for 'everything that can happen will be allowed to happen.'"
"Well, it will be allowed to happen. Then it will be erased."
"There's nothing you can do?"
"I am doing something. I can influence, but cannot overtly interfere. As such, I require you to do that for me."
"And how would you like me to 'interfere'?"
"Stop the Pandemonia."
Shepard found himself in a docking bay. It was disconcerting to see such a massive space so completely empty – well, not entirely empty. A Keeper wandered by on its way to wherever.
"The Keepers your creatures?" A shake of her head. Behind him, the space out the window was mostly Void. In the distance, the Milkiway.
"They are a product of the Citadels, created by the Citadels themselves, complete constructs. They do not possess life as you understand it."
"You make it sound as if the Citadels were alive."
"They are - after a fashion. At their hearts they contain an... awareness. It is a conscious thing, but only of itself. Have you never wondered how your Citadel generated power and atmosphere, heat and light?"
"We always assumed there were keeper-tended mass effect furnaces or something at the heart of the Citadel - or something similar. Of course, I always wondered where all the eezo would come from to power something that big..."
"The Citadel itself is only the protective shell around this awareness. Needless to say, it does not perceive the universe the way you or I do, and it is not alive as we consider life."
"Right. Okay, why am I here?" He was examining the interior. From here it looked like the Citadel he knew, save the bay was easily many times larger. There were no numbers anywhere, but it could have been D24 on his Citadel, so identical it was, save in size.
"Because here is where you can begin – and do the most good." Out of nowhere, Mulholland punched him hard in the arm again with one of her smiles. "Jackass." She turned, walked off toward a lift. "Follow me."
"Where to now?"
"Armor and weapons, Shepard. Or did you wanna walk around naked?"
Shepard looked down. Yeah, he was naked.
"You're doing this on purpose."
She stopped, looked back with an appreciative eye.
"Arrogant, aren't you?" A pause. "Well, I am myself now, while I'm here, so... yes." She started walking again.
Shepard huffed, and nude, went after her.
"I might appreciate this more if this was Pre-Torfan."
They stepped into the lift and she activated it.
"Oh, don't be so maudlin. We'll find you clothes."
"Good."
"Eventually." A smirk, then she laughed.
"Jack is going to kill me," he muttered, and Mulholland just laughed harder.