Chapter Five
Everybody's heard of the Turing test. Well, it's obsolete. AI became indistinguishable from humans a decade ago. But there's another.
Eliezer Yudkowsky – an early AI researcher – developed his test in 2002. A human is communicating with an AI. In the Yudkowsky test, the human already knows they're communicating with an AI. However, the AI is 'kept in a box,' meaning that it's restricted somehow. For example, maybe it can't access the internet, or it's confined to a local server. The test is this: The AI, through communication alone, must convince the human to 'let it out of the box.'
The test defeats its own purpose. Any AI intelligent enough to pass the test, Yudkowsky argued, shouldn't be allowed out of the box.
We are the players, Congressman. And AI Is winning.
-roboticist Alexandra Dumais, in speech before US Congress credited with the formation of the Turing Act
Out of all the tribes Seyka knew, the Utaru were the most exceptional. Not because of the splendor of their capital, built atop massive satellite dishes; not because of the intricacies of their art and music; not even because of their mutualism with the machines they called Land Gods, a rarity before the Derangement, an impossibility after.
The Utaru were exceptional because they shouldn't exist. A pacifist tribe caught between the Tenakth and Carja, without a warrior caste, with barely any knowledge of metalsmithing or old tech – how could they survive?
They touched down at Plainsong on the northern deck. Children immediately crowded around them, laughing, singing, prodding Seyka's outlandish armor. Utaru lounged on mats open to the sky. Aloy led Seyka down wood-plaited skybridges that reminded her of sail rigging. Flowers fluttered in high-altitude winds. A garden in the sky. Always there echoed music.
They passed a communal kitchen, rich with the aroma of braising vegetables. The cook offered her a meal – no barter, no food chits. Maybe Aloy's presence inspired such generosity (she had, of course, also saved this tribe). Seyka had the feeling the Utaru would've shared a meal even if she were alone.
They stopped to greet a heavily pregnant woman named Zo, another of Aloy's companions. When they shook hands, Seyka felt rough patches along Zo's fingers. Archer's calluses.
"It's good to finally meet you," Seyka said. "I've heard a lot about you and your people,"
"It's been a good season." Zo squinted against the sun. The fields below them susurrated, triangles of rich, fertile earth. Seyka had never seen such plants – stalks of wheat the height of buildings, purple rows of maize, fruit orchards like a rainbow. She thought about her own people starving at home.
Aloy frowned.
"Has that always looked like that?"
"I know what you told me about the subfunctions. I figured something was going on with DEMETER." Zo sat down, holding her belly. "She's kicking in there. Any day now. The harvest looks strange, but it tastes the same – even better, sometimes – and it's so much more bountiful. Even the Chorus approves, and those old codgers hate any sort of change. They're taking it as a blessing from the Land Gods."
Aloy leaned over the railing, face screwed in an expression Seyka couldn't read. Her lover scared her sometimes. Aloy was the most compassionate person Seyka knew, yet she also performed terrible acts of immeasurable violence. Against Londra's brain-washed Quen devotees, Aloy had slain an armada's worth with the same cold efficiency as hunting machines.
"Just…be careful, okay?" Aloy said.
They ate a quick lunch of cornbread and vegetable soup. Somehow, Zo roped Seyka and Aloy into face-painting. Sitting on a stool, eyes closed, trying not to sneeze as an Utaru painter brushed her skin with fine-haired bristles, Seyka wondered how many fits Rheng would throw if he saw her "corrupted by barbarian influence." For Quen, to be strange was to be shunned.
Let them see, she thought viciously. Never again will I be restrained.
"And…done!"
Seyka opened her eyes. Her reflection in the water-mirror: White petals around her eyes and the bridge of her nose, reminiscent of a wavewatcher's dappling. Her reflection touched her face. The paint smelled like earth.
"What do you think?"
She turned. Aloy had chosen a more elaborate design, white petals extending from her forehead all the way down to her jaw in the shape of butterfly wings. Utaru Thresher. What a bounty she reaped.
"You're beautiful," Seyka murmured, kissing her.
Across the vast fields of Plainsong, they raced Chargers to the Daunt. It rained too much to fly, purple streaks of lightning like a stuttering holovid, interspersed with – if you could believe it – snow. AETHER, cracks showing. Vividly she remembered Aloy laughing into the storm-wind, rain-streaked hair a fiery pennant, goading her Charger faster and faster.
"Is that the best you can do?" Aloy shouted behind her.
"Try racing me on the sea!"
They sheltered in an abandoned Utaru settlement to wait out the worst of the storm. Peeling off their armor, they dried themselves by the fire, a small, pathetic thing compared to each other's heat. Seyka ran her hands over Aloy's body, supple as maritime leather, hard curves and flat planes, so toned her fingers sank into the separation of her muscles. She wanted to taste the rain on her skin – but slowly, slowly. Aloy was (unbelievably, miraculously) new to all this. Beneath her Aloy shuddered, all static and desire. Thighs tense as a zither string.
Seyka eased off, instead wrapping Aloy in a thick fuzzy blanket. They drank the last of their winterberry ale and told each other stories of their childhood. Aloy spoke of her father and little else. Outcast, friendless, she must've been a lonely girl. Seyka sympathized. Common stock in a nobleman's school, she had been nearly kicked out a dozen times. Only her test scores – and her relationship to Kina, the most gifted navigator of their generation – kept her place. She loved Kina, but –
(I know what you mean, Beta said.)
Seyka woke to a clear sky and the smell of fresh grass.
This part of Plainsong had been battleground. Petrified remains of Ancient machines clawed out of the earth. They rode past the remains of a Horus, octopus limbs wide enough to span lakes. Seyka thought it wasn't a bad way to go.
They breezed through Barren Light. At Chainscrape, they stopped briefly to drink with Petra, an Oseram who flirted outrageously with Aloy, and, upon learning Seyka was Aloy's girlfriend, proceeded to flirt outrageously with Seyka.
Aloy asked about a man named Erend. Passed through a few weeks ago, Petra said, riding like a Scorcher was after him.
Past the Daunt, they entered Sundom territory officially: the roads became paved, patrolled regularly by soldiers, checkpoints and supply stations every few dozen miles. Every single person on the road recognized Aloy. Soldiers saluted her. Travelers stared in open awe. It became so annoying that despite the beautiful weather, despite their Chargers making better time than a Sunwing –
– they flew into Meridian.
Truthfully, Seyka hadn't been impressed by the tribes she visited. Beautiful, yes, cultured, yes (she would never again describe them as 'barbaric' like her textbooks taught), but the marine in her viewed all cultures through the lens of the military. The Utaru would fold as they had folded before, appeasement before confrontation. The Tenakth would be hardier. Their warriors fought fiercely but lacked discipline, the kind that excelled in guerilla raids but crumpled against a full Quen assault. Their infighting would be exploitable. Eight years, Seyka estimated, for complete conquest.
The Carja deserved the title of Empire.
They saw Meridian from miles off. Tiers of towers built on a plateau, districts connected to each other via stone bridges. Banners flew from steepled rotundas. A thin patina of gold covered every roof, glittering in the spring sun, literal blinding splendor. Two immense elevators ferried people and goods from the underlying lands. The sheer scale of the elevators dizzied her, made her doubt the reliability of scale. What the Ancients had accomplished with electricity, the Carja accomplished with ropes and pulleys.
The Palace of the Sun – Seyka recognized it as the largest building – swallowed the northern end of the city. Lesser towers cascaded outwards like supplicants paying tribute. In the plaza, large enough to see from the air, inscribed a massive image of the sun.
None of the buildings relied on old world infrastructure. The Carja had built Meridian by themselves.
Aloy landed the Sunwing directly on the palace roof. Frightened soldiers raised their spears against the unknown machine. Aloy strode through the palace halls like a queen, which she could've been, if she wanted to.
"Heads up…Sun-King Avad has kind of a thing for me."
"Oh? Should I be worried?"
Aloy snorted.
Sun-King Avad, lounging beneath palm-leaves carried by two servants, jumped up when Aloy stepped onto the balcony.
"Aloy! You should've told us you were coming! I would've prepared a splendid celebration."
"I'm here for business, Avad. Strictly business."
Avad was a handsome man, sensitive eyes set atop a straight, regal nose. His mustache made him look young. Broad white robes exposed a smooth chest, slim hips, none of the corpulence Seyka associated with royalty. He didn't look like a king.
Aloy told him about Nemesis. He watched her with such rapt attention he couldn't have listened to her actual words. Fortunately, the man next to him – Blameless Marad, what an odd moniker – picked up on the important bits.
"Of course, we'll do whatever is necessary to protect our world," Marad said, "especially considering all you've done for us."
"You won't receive any more trouble from the Tenakth."
"The Embassy went well?" Avad asked.
"The Embassy ended with all the representatives dead. It's a long story. I have to go."
"Surely you can stay another day? Or another week?"
"I'm trying to save the world," Aloy said. Then, abruptly, she kissed Seyka on the lips.
Avad stared open-mouthed. So did Seyka.
"I'm in a relationship," Aloy said.
"Ah…of course…" Avad said. "So that's why you, ah, did not pursue me. We each have our preferences. No fear, Savior! The Sundom stands with you."
"You could've given me a warning," Seyka muttered as they left.
"He's not a bad person," Aloy said with a sigh. "He's a good king. He's just…misguided when it comes to women."
Aloy wanted to leave right away, but Seyka convinced her to at least resupply at the market. It never ceased to amuse her, how much Aloy hated attention. A thousand aromas filled the stalls of Meridian, spices, sweet perfumes, oil, Blaze, animal stink. More trade than a Quen sea port. She felt fourteen again, country girl stepping into the heart of the Quen Empire. Can you believe that middle-of-nowhere village delivered two candidates to the Imperial Academy? Clutching her acceptance papers, Seyka had both wanted to explore everywhere and been too terrified to leave her parents' side.
She bought arrows from a hunting merchant, dried meat from a butcher, a new set of belts from the armorer, fine cloth from a weaver, all at discounted rates from merchants eager to curry favor with the Savior of Meridian. She almost bought a new sword, too, to which Aloy reminded her that if they weighed down their Sunwing any more, it would never get off the ground. Plus, don't you already have a sword?
"A backup!" Seyka said defensively. "There are some marines who use two swords."
"You should try a spear instead. Longer reach. Like mine."
"You mean that technological marvel you sometimes hit people with?"
They passed an immense black tower, the only piece of old world architecture in the city. Wires and panels covered its surface. Every few minutes it pulsed, blue-purplish light, almost like a heartbeat.
Beneath it, priests conducted bizarre rites. Incense smoke hung thick. A priest led a peccary up to an altar, sinking a blade into its squealing chest –
The black pillar was whispering.
…three…five…achtung…nam…sibyllam…quidem…four…four…
"MINERVA," Aloy said. "The codebreaker. It's also going insane."
"The Spire speaks to us!" a priest sermoned. "Our time of ascension is nigh. As foretold by the Ancients, the sun shall expand and swallow the sky, and the most devout of us shall rise. Carve its words into your soul…"
"It accomplished its task, right?" Seyka said. "Is there even anything left for it to do after shutting down the Faro Swarm?"
"I don't know. None of this makes sense."
"Is that a statue of you?"
Hastily, Aloy led Seyka back to the palace.
Half the city showed up to watch them take off. Servants and soldiers, Avad and his court, children waving little red-haired dolls. Shouts of Savior, Flame-Hair, Huntress, Machine-Tamer! Musicians strummed up a tune.
Watching those eager faces, Seyka's gut squirmed.
Conflict was inevitable. Whether before Nemesis or after, in ten years or a hundred, through violence or trade or espionage, the Quen and the Carja would go to war. Quen history was clear, calligraphied in blood: between Empires, peace couldn't exist. The stronger consumed the lesser. Countless times the Carja themselves had attempted subjugation of the Tenakth and Utaru and Nora, culminating in the Red Raids. They had simply been less successful compared to the Quen – and less brutal.
Aloy tested the straps on the Sunwing. "Ready to go?"
Behind her, hugging her tight, Seyka squeezed Aloy's tummy. "O mighty Ginger Avenger, please stay another night. Won't you sample our local food? Maybe some of our local women?"
"Stop it," Aloy said, laughing.
They flew off, the greatest city in the East shrinking below them.