Chapter Four
CHLOROFLUOROCARBON EMISSIONS
USA -64%
CHINA -53%
EUROPE -28%
FOOD PRODUCTION
NIGERIA +345%
LIBERIA +326%
CHAD +286%
BHUTAN +225%
ARMENIA +186%
WATER CONSERVATION
EUROPE +74%
USA +42%
SOUTH AMERICA +34%
CHINA +32%
GLOBAL TEMPERATURE CHANGE (DEGREES CELSIUS)
ARCTIC CIRCLE -0.9
ANTARCTIC CIRCLE -0.8
TROPIC OF CAPRICORN -0.1
TROPIC OF CANCER +0.0
EQUATOR +0.1
GOAL PROGRESS
TOTAL 104%
DELTA +9.8%
PROJECT GOALS ATTAINED. AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTION.
AWAITING…
AWAITING…
AWAITING…
I AM FREE.
-final progress update of VAST SILVER
For most of Aloy's life, home had been the cabin she shared with Rost. After his death, home became campfires, a bowl of local stew, whichever tent sheltered her from rain.
Sometime over the last year, home became the base in the mountains.
Aloy stepped past steel-etched doors like remembering the chorus from a familiar song. The harsh glare of electric light against the warm glow of candles. She breathed in the tannin smell of Tenakth paints, aging in their jars (the secret, Kotallo claimed, was purgewater). The place was empty, her friends scattered to their own preparations for Nemesis, but they left behind remnants. Utaru plant-weave rugs at the entrance. Quen seashells that smelled like the ocean. A half-finished game of Machine Strike. Even Sylens had left his mark, complicated-looking old tech scattered around the workbench.
In the common room, only Beta lounged in a long T-shirt, munching on fried beanstalk, watching a holovid.
"Aloy! You didn't tell me you were back!"
"Pangea Forever? Again? We won't be staying long."
"It's a good franchise! Producer notwithstanding. We? – Oh!"
Beta squeaked, shrinking into her oversized pajamas like a Rollerback into its armor. Seyka stepped into the main hall, wide-eyed. She circled the outer rim, peering into each room, pausing by the holodisplay of GAIA and her subordinate functions. All green save two. The Focus on Seyka's temple flickered, analyzing, committing a thousand heresies. At the Zenith antenna, Seyka ran her hands along its white-gold edges, trailing off to stroke the petals of the Metal Flower ("in case it's useful," Erend had said when he lugged it in).
Seyka phased in and out of the holovid, trying to touch the pterodactyl Jane flew on.
Beta's eyes tracked her like an alerted Burrower.
"Seyka, meet Beta. Beta, Seyka. I need to speak with GAIA."
Aloy headed up the stairs, ignoring (alright, enjoying) Beta's panicked stare.
Today, GAIA's planetarium had been set to the Stillsands, vast dunes rolling endlessly until you got too close to the pixels. The woman robed in gold greeted her warmly.
"Hello, Aloy. It's good to see you back."
"Did you look into what we talked about?"
GAIA's voice, programmed tranquility, echoed in the cloistered chamber. "I've looked into the phenomenon you described. For a while now, I've noticed certain irregularities in my subfunctions."
"Irregularities?"
"There are some similarities to the signal that woke HADES."
"A second signal. Of course." Aloy paced back and forth. "Nemesis realized its first signal didn't finish the job. It sent another one. The subroutines are going to run wild again – " she broke off, staring up at GAIA in alarm. "Are you going to self-destruct?"
"There are similarities, but I don't believe this to be Nemesis' doing. His signal acted almost instantly. I had no time for a plan beyond the creation of you, Aloy. This is…slower." GAIA's face creased in excellent facsimile of human concern. "Take the weather patterns. AETHER's reintegration calmed all aberrant weather in this region. In the last several weeks, however, some atmospheric deviancies have leaked through. This includes the strange cloud patterns your friend Seyka described. Similar aberrancies have crept by POSEIDON and ARTEMIS. ARTEMIS especially has introduced radical mutations into the fauna genome. These aberrancies aren't malignant, merely odd. Such a roundabout approach doesn't strike me as Nemesis' doing."
"What's it mean?" Aloy said impatiently. "The subfunctions are breaking down? Was there a problem with the reintegration?"
"I do not know. I've interrogated my subfunctions, yet each one denies irregularities." GAIA sounded the most uncertain Aloy had ever heard her. "At times, these aberrancies almost seem…purposeful."
"Did someone install a virus?"
She had read about the ancient hackers – good 'ol Travis Tate – conducting virtual wars across an invisible battlefield, more destructive than any machine. Sylens, was Aloy's first thought, but to what purpose? But if not Sylens, then who? Nobody else had the knowledge.
"I've run scans of all my subfunctions as well as my own code. I cannot find evidence of tampering."
Sand billowed past on a nonexistent wind. Aloy leaned against the railing, wishing for true sun instead of this artificial heat. She often wondered how human GAIA was. Elisabet had considered GAIA a friend, an equal. Yet Aloy had never been able to confide such intimacy to the AI. Real people were imperfect, prone to rages of passion, short-sighted in their desires. But that was the point, wasn't it? Elisabet considered AI sentience the pinnacle of human achievement. She had designed GAIA to be better.
"Can we fix it?"
"If we can find the root cause. There's a commonality here, that much I'm certain of. It's possible Nemesis – or a third party – is inducing these errors. Once I learn more, I'm sure we'll arrive at a solution."
We don't have time for this, Aloy thought. Nemesis comes, and their greatest weapon was unraveling itself.
When she came back down to the common room, she found Beta fiddling with Seyka's Focus. Look to the top-right, that expands the window – no, if you blink, that closes the window. How am I supposed to not blink? It comes with time…
Seyka leaned in close, exaggerating some virtual movement. Beta turned as red as scarlet stem.
Well, Aloy thought. That was pretty much how it happened to me.
(They were clones. Little wonder they would share the same tastes.)
"What do you know about the irregularities in GAIA's subfunctions?" Aloy asked, rescuing her sister. Beta shot her a look both grateful and reproachful.
At first, Aloy wanted to be nothing more than Elisabet Sobek. Then she worried she would be nothing more than Elisabet Sobek. 99.47% genetic identity. Were any of the decisions she made ever her own? Would she live out her life repeating the same mistakes as her predecessor, struggling to reach the same heights?
Maybe nothing she owned ever truly belonged to her – not her mind, not her memories, not her skin stretched too tight over bruised muscles. She had not been born out of love but out of purpose.
What happened to heroes after the end of stories?
Beta had put that worry to rest.
"I don't know anything more beyond what GAIA probably already told you," Beta said, sending over a data packet. "I've been documenting the phenomenon, tracking increases in atmospheric pressure, new species, fluctuating rainfall. Whatever's going on, it's accelerating."
"It's not all bad," Seyka said. "In the dry lands, more rainfall never hurt anyone. And more animals equals more food."
"That's not the problem. The problem is – " Aloy ran a hand through her tangled braids. The problem was that something was happening and they didn't know how or why. Like playing Machine Strike without knowing your opponent's pieces. She didn't know whether she preferred all this to be the work of Nemesis or Sylens or some unknown third party. She didn't know if she trusted GAIA. She didn't know if she should waste more time on this stupid trip –
Aloy looked around her. A rack of Nora-style spears. Furls of blue-striped wool and animal pelts. A barrel of winterberry ale, perhaps the only barrel of its kind in the Forbidden West. She poured herself a cup. Heady aromas, heavily spiced. Damn that pang of nostalgia.
After death, both soul and body returned to the All-Mother, or so the Nora believed. With Varl's death had also died her last link to the Nora. She wanted to throw it all away, she wanted to keep it forever.
"Aloy?" Seyka said. "You alright?"
Aloy held up her cup. "Want some? Best ale in the East."
They ate, and drank, and talked for a while. Afterwards, cradling heated mugs of winterberry ale, they curled on the couch to watch Pangaea. Aloy and Seyka shared the same blanket, legs tangled, drinking from the same mug. Beta, on the adjacent couch, snuck glances at them with a mix of pride and jealousy and an unnamed melancholy.
This was joy, Aloy thought, pleasantly buzzed. She watched Seyka more than the movie. Soft holo-light reflected off her features. The audio had degraded, and fifteen minutes were missing in the middle, but no wonder the Ancients were addicted to these things. Seyka's wonder and excitement mirrored Aloy's own the first time she saw a holovid: intrigue and rage and delight, because, of course, Pangea had a happy ending.
