Chapter 60: Ancient Knowledge, p.1

Jarl Korir was celebrating his son's 15th birthday with a city-wide party and engagement to Dagny of Whiterun, a pretty brunette who had also turned 14. Additionally, all young men of 15 and women of 14 of Winterhold were invited to share the stage with his son.

The new fizzy birch beer was a hit with the young crowd. So was the maple syrup pancakes, maple-flavored sausages and bacon, and maple donuts with strips of bacon on top. Novelty, frivolous, high-end luxuries of little nutritional value and massive calories, not that the latter qualities meant anything to the world. The studies of quantifying the concept of nutrition and caloric value was still in conceptual development stage in Winterhold College and being done by Restoration novices. By the time the first papers outlining the concepts would be introduced to the academic world, the sugar vices would be running amok around Tamriel with the help of Snow Crown Investments and the North Empire Trading Company.

"Almost as good as moonsugar," judged Ma'dran. His caravan had added Winterhold to its route, now being Solitude-Winterhold-Windhelm. "Addic-, no, attractive in flavor but without the, mm, mental soothing of moonsugar."

"Actually, any sugars have an addictive effect. The basic sugar structure is the same, but the flavor molecules and origin enzymes do add character," said Curtis. "Of course, effects vary per species. Though I think maple sap is nowhere near as potent as Hist sap," he added, chuckling.

Ma'dran shuddered. "Hist sap is neither sweet nor benign to any but Argonians." He took another lick of the maple candy stick. "The leafy flavor is not unpleasant."

"Huh. Is that what you taste? Interesting. Puts me in mind of my sister. She was a honey fiend. Claimed she could taste the differences in raw honey versus the fake stuff. Said if she couldn't taste the plant it came from, it was overprocessed or adulterated with corn or regular sugar syrup. Real finicky taste buds.

"Say, speaking of sap, do you know of any trees that grow in your part of the world that put out white, sticky sap?"

"Yesss. The western parts of Elsewyr and most in Bosmeri lands. Foul tasting. Not edible at all."

"I don't need it for eating, but I'd pay for a barrel of the stuff." Ma'dran's ears and whiskers pricked forward and his eyes narrowed with keen interest.

"Of what use would you make of that sap?"

"Depends if the rubber sap is similar or the same to the one I have in mind. If so, its uses are many and lucrative." Ma'dran nodded.

"This one will let you know when a barrel is secured. Freshness is important, yes?"

"Yup. Has to still be liquid and not solidified into a lump."

The public bath house was crowded, so were all the inns. Back to the college then, not a hassle since he'd learned the outlawed art of levitation from Baladas Demnevanni of Mystwatch. While the mystical arts of levitation and teleportation were still forbidden in the Empire, the Telvanni had refused to honor the Imperial ban. House Telvanni rarely listened to their gods — Daedric or do-it-yourselfers — so why on Nirn would they bow to the commands of the Emperor of Man? The Telvanni liked their advantages. He only taught levitation to Curtis to pay for the knowledge the Dwemer engineers shared with him.

Curtis eagerly mastered that spell. The trauma of his death falling off a ten-story building because of a brain aneurysm a sharp incentive. He also had plans for a hang-glider he couldn't wait to try come spring. Taking off from the top of the college should be great. He'd never gone hang-gliding before, but now that he knew levitation, he didn't have to worry about splashing his insides against the ground again.

Maybe he should ask Frosty for tips about navigating the winds around Winterhold. He wondered how fast he could ride the Dragon's slipstream before a wood-and-cloth glider disintegrated from stress.

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

One Skyrim game story started on the docks of Riften, a raving Argonian crying, "I won't go back! I won't!" It was the "ancient knowledge" trope. Explorers find a strange device of some lost and/or dead civilization, and getting near to it or touching it causes a massive data dump of ancient knowledge into the comparatively primitive brain of the explorer. The explorer is usually fated to suffer overload and terminal shut-down unless a solution is found. Those versions were rarely heart-wrenching stories like "Flowers for Algernon."

"I've heard rumors of such knowledge transfer experiments," said Drilira. "Just theories back then. I don't know Avanchnzel."

"You came from Bthar-zel, right? Deep Folk Crossing, as it's known now. Other side of the country. May it was only a small town in your time, but it grew since then," said Curtis. "There's a cube down there that holds an entire library of knowledge that seems to be able to download into minds that want it just through touch."

"Interesting. You think it will be helpful?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking retrieving that cube might help us by catching-up on knowledge you people missed out on. But I'm concerned because in the case of the one who survived Avanchnzel and brought the lexicon out, she'd gone insane from all the knowledge."

"That shouldn't happen if proper research was done," Drilira asserted. "Who was this person? Was she of low intelligence?"

"Um, no. A fairly intelligent Argonian, if I remember correctly."

"Oh. That might have been the problem right there. She wasn't a Dwemer. Such transference would have been optimized for Dwemer physiology."

"I see. So, data corruption due to formatting error."

"Yes. The more complex the material, the higher the chance of error. It is likely the data is as generic a format as they could make it to accommodate a spectrum of intelligence. However, all physical mediums and chemical processes are impossible to design for. I do not think Altmer or Dunmer would have too difficult a time assimilating the transfer. However, I would be cautious about Man and absolutely not recommend it for Orsimer or Betmer. The greater the deviation from the origin species, the greater the errors. The Orsimer were changed by Daedric power, the Argonians by the Hist sap, and the Khajiit by moonsugar."

"The Dunmer were also changed by a Daedric prince," said Curtis.

"Cosmetic changes. They remain basically Chimer. Malacath's followers underwent more drastic physical and mental mutation to become the Orsimer they are now."

"Uh, yeah. Um, but Man, wouldn't that be as great a deviation as Orsimer or Betmer? And the Orsimer changes might be Daedric, but not chemically induced like the Hist sap and moonsugar where the bodies have become dependent on those substances to live."

Drilira didn't answer right away, appearing to be analyzing something. "I think I remember a phrase you've used before," she said at last. "'Like, but not alike.' Man is the oldest divergence from the Aldmer stock; the rest of us more recent. However, most mer can still breed with Man. The Orsimer face high infant mortality breeding outside their own. The Argonians and Khajiit are chemical exceptions that are no longer genetically viable with any but their own kind. Lady Valerica's recent experiments also supply the initial conclusion that the relatively recent Falmer dependence upon the mushrooms they eat has made them incompatible with the origin lines. And their cubs are born addicted to the mushrooms. So far, none seem able to survive to adulthood.

"As for knowledge transference, the device likely targets and mutates somatic cells into memory cells and encodes the data. I can see where the mutation process may be imperfect for Man and Betmer. One can speculate the Betmer neural receptors are similar in structure, but…"

"Oh, I hear you," Curtis said, nodding, as pictures of rectangles snugging into square holes moved in his mind. The rectangles "fit" in one aspect yet were still totally wrong for the niche. Neurotransmitter blockers. Neurological problems, misfirings, and all that complicated stuff that was way out of his understanding. His best comprehension was how caffeine molecules blocked the receptors where the "sleep" triggers fitted. Short-term, great; long-term, not so good. Over-stimulation and lack of sleep lead to mental deterioration and physical stress from a buildup of poisons, failure to purge the garbage, and crippled functions of data recompiling and defragmentation — all processes done in regular sleep cycles. Drilira also seemed uncomfortable as the biological sciences were outside her field.

The conventional belief was that people only used three to ten percent of their brains. Bullshit. A couple of brain cells for thought and the rest of the lower ninety percentile were all in autonomous life-support functions. You start overwriting the databanks that control heartbeat, digestive system, lungs, temperature control, nerve processing/sensory relays, and everything else; then how long before total system shutdown?

"Are you planning to use the lexicon yourself, my lord?" Drilira asked, interrupting his thoughts. "I don't recommend it for you. Not because of your Dunmer form; no. But we would be devastated if the delicate balance of your minds were upset beyond recovery."

"I guess. The Argonian kept raving about 'the memories,' which may infer that, along with scientific data, were the personal memories of the donors."

"Again, proof of formatting errors," insisted Drilira. "Mismatching field entries and data delimiters."

"Okay, okay. I won't try it. But I still think you and the others might benefit."

"Yes. A 'catching-up,' as you call it. Of course, it depends on what fields of knowledge the lexicon contains. Do you know? From your otherworld knowledge, do you know what it contains?"

Curtis shook his head. "No, not really. From the game, returning it to Avanchnzel only increased one's ability to learn the smithing craft."

"Hm. Well. It still appears to be a desirable venture. We're not so arrogant as to believe all learning and engineering advancements stopped when we sailed into Oblivion. So, again, when do we leave, my lord?"

Curtis blinked, startled. "Uh, you planning to come along?"

"Didn't you want me to come?" she asked, arching her brows. "You usually only raise such curious subjects when you have a project for us. Was I mistaken? If so, I apologize for my presumption."

"Oh, no, no. No apologies are needed. I mean, I would be happy if you came along. But I'd assumed your work schedule, in light of all the projects we'd gone over last week, would make a two-week journey impractical for you," Curtis said hastily. "And this lexicon project was something that's been bobbing in and out of my head for a while now. I just decided a couple days ago to seriously fish after it. An impulse project. And I was planning to leave early the day after tomorrow."

"Predictable," Drilira said, deadpanned. She then shook her head. "We trust your judgment and intuition, my lord. If anomalies appear on the sensors and you think it is worth investigating, then investigate we must.

"It will take me three days at minimum to clear my schedule and delegate responsibilities here in Winterhold," she said firmly. "How long do you estimate this exploration of Avanchnzel to last?"

"Um, well, four days travel. I want to stop in Windhelm and check on people. And then Avanchnzel itself may be three to five days depending on whether or not we can get security to stand down, how many of the Falmer have restocked the lower levels, and how distracted Arniel might get."

"Arniel is coming with us?"

"You know Arniel."

"Ah, of course he would insist on going."

"Yeah. And he's also willing to be a test subject."

"I hope you've invited someone like Ilya to come along should his mental health suffer."

"Actually, Drevis is coming. This kind of transference of knowledge interests him."

"So it should. I'll be ready to leave in three days, my lord. And I will return to Winterhold afterward while you continue your explorations. I expect you are targeting other ruins than Avanchnzel?"

"Well, I was thinking of dropping in on Bthalft. Sure you wouldn't want to come there?"

Drilira frowned, clearly torn between curiosity and responsibility. "I will have to visit there later," she said. "Who else is in this party?" she asked.

"You, me, Drevis, Arniel, Elden."

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

"Why in hell are you tagging along?" Curtis demanded.

"You have doubts about my ability to safeguard your operations?" challenged Vivec. "If you recall the battles in West Gash, I kept the Nords off your back while you were gathering and evacuating your people to safety."

"Yes, thank you. You did a great job back then. Nerevar was very proud you carried out his orders so well to protect Dwemer noncombatants. But that was then. He's not ordering you to guard Winterhold mages."

Drevis nervously stuttered, "Uh, C-Curtis, maybe—"

Vivec's head turned to him. The popular dark-shade ski goggles Curtis had introduced in Winterhold kept Vivec's mismatched eyes hidden. "Do you have a problem with my protection?" he sweetly asked the ex-acolyte of his temple.

Drevis squeaked and turned his face away.

"Why would you think I need your help going to a Dwemer ruin to pick up some equipment?" demanded Curtis.

"As you say," answered Vivec with a coy smile.

Curtis glared at him through half-closed eyes. "I ain't playing. Whatever. Elden has seniority."

"Excellent. You've become so much more agreeable in your second life."