Petroleum Effect

Interlude IV - Out of the Darkness

Unknown Location, Unknown Date, 2183

Confusion. An awareness scrabbling for purchase amid shreds of concept, struggling against something undefined. A feeling of disruption - pain but not a physical pain - more existential. Panic. A feeling of calm. A lapse into unconsciousness. A calmer return to awareness. Still confused, in darkness. Thought - where am I?

The normal inventory of consciousness upon awakening, truncated. Where am I? A question that should cascade into bodily senses, orientation, limbs, touch, hearing, vision. None are found. A consciousness with no body and no senses. Panic and unconsciousness again.

The third time awareness returned, there was the beginning of memory. I am Simon Collins. Seeking the most recent memories - what happened? Failure. Panic and unconsciousness once more.

The fourth time awareness returned, it was clear. I am Simon Collins. I am Archlord Lordak. I was dying ... and now ... a connection. Slowly growing in insistence, a cybernetic connection. An implant. An update.

The procedure was successful. There had been a plan. The remains of the Archlord's brain, original and artificial, had been merged into the young, healthy body of his clone. Vessel had been filled. Now all that remained was to integrate with the brain stem. The new body was a clone, but even clones had some differences including nerve pathways. The brain needed to adapt to the new body's sensory input, which was currently suppressed.

The implant reported the procedure was a success, but not yet complete. Sensory connections were being suppressed. Respiration and heartbeat were being supported by medical equipment. With a thought, Collins reduced the suppression allowing misaligned neural connections to begin. At once he regretted it. He felt ... chaos. Pins and needles, heat and cold, pleasure and pain, throughout his body. Incomprehensible sound. Meaningless light and colour. It was overwhelming, but Simon realised that he had no choice but to persevere. The reconfigured brain had to adapt to the brain stem and the nerve connections from the new body. Collins reduced the suppression on motor function, allowing him to twitch his limbs.

After a while, things began to improve. He withstood it as long as he could. Realising that he could control the devices, he thought-clicked a dose of sedative and sleep claimed him.

When awareness returned, the limited signals from his body were beginning to make more sense. The lights were beginning to look more like vision. Simon dialed the connections up further and endured. He realised that he was not yet complete. As Archlord Lordak, Simon's consciousness had been permanently augmented by implanted artificial neurons. Much of his awareness was currently dormant - he was functioning in something like his biological core human consciousness. His psionics were gone. He paused for a moment. Surely he could at least use simple psionics? Those techniques did not require augmentation.

Collins, with difficulty and some pain, worked through the mental thought patterns for a simple psionic remote viewing effect. At once his perceptions changed. He was in an immaculate medical room, floating above a muscular body on a padded metal bed of some sort. He recognised the heraldry of the Acolytes of the Archlord on the wall. The room contained several shapely women in immaculate white clothes. His perceptions of the room were a confused mess, but he could with effort make sense of it.

"I think he is awake," said one of the women to the others, "there was swelling and chaotic activity at first, but it has slowly stabilised. The brain swelling has nearly gone down. The implant was activated yesterday by the patient to reduce nerve suppression, and again today. Nothing definite yet."

Another woman grimaced. "Plenty of time," she said then turned to an instrument which was chiming. "Hmm. Detecting a weak psionic emission. Vessel could never do that."

Simon allowed the effect to lapse. He returned to his disconnected awareness, struggling to regain control of his senses and body. He realised he was safe for now.

The next few days - for now Collins was regaining his orientation in time - saw his senses come into focus. He could feel his body and move it slightly. However, he experienced twitches and sometimes ghost sensations without warning. He could see, but sometimes out of the corner of his eye, things which were not there. He could hear but sometimes wrongly. Simon deliberately reduced nerve suppression to zero.

A healthy, attractive, brunette woman leaned over the man strapped down to the bed. Simon tried to speak to her. He meant to say hello. It was a mess. The complex movements of tongue and mouth needed to be relearned. "Garrrr," he managed.

"Hello," said the woman, brightly. "Are you awake? Do you know who you are?"

This would not do. As the woman repeated herself, concerned, her patient used a simple psionic technique to send her a thought, "I'm alive and adapting to this body," [rueful] "apologies for the incoherent groaning. Speech is complicated."

The woman's eyes widened, something like awe in her eyes. "I'm Lena," she said.

Sanctuary of the Archlord, interstellar space near Sol System, Local Cluster, 16 April 2183

Simon Collins relaxed. He was in his Sanctuary, a hidden asteroid fortress drifting in deep space near Sol. The hollowed-out structure had no signs on the surface to distinguish it from an ordinary rock. Since his awakening, he had undergone significant physiotherapy and regained much motor control. He could walk, feed himself, dress himself and clean himself. His senses worked. Occasionally, there were sensory glitches, twinges, even minor seizures a couple of times, but it was all improving. He could use an array of simple psionics.

The Archlord was reborn. He was however, in no condition to rule the Dominion or even face his subordinates. That would take time. Time to fully integrate with his new body. Time to remember how to run and jump and swim. To read and write. To type swiftly. To regain fluency in simple psionics. The Archlord had even used the First Transcendence - connecting to a neural suite via his implant. He only did it twice. He feared becoming too remote from his body before he was fully integrated with it. He had no intention of even touching the Second Transcendence for some time. The implant seeds and additional neurons in his body remained firmly inactive.

For now, the Archlord enjoyed an enforced holiday. On the upside, he had plenty of beautiful, willing company. He had soon proven that his new body's reproductive organs worked. On the darker side, Collins was troubled by questions of identity. He did not feel like an Archlord. He did not even feel like the Simon Collins whose work on AI led to reliable psionics. Whose soul did he have? Whose consciousness did he continue? Was the 'I' behind his eyes the original Simon Collins, or was he Vessel's soul, now endowed with his progenitor's memories? Was he something else entirely?

The Temple Ship, Sol, Local Cluster, 26 June 2183

Amaoth picked up the video call with some trepidation. She took it in her private office. When the Acolytes of the Archlord had contacted her, she had not paid much heed. They were once an integral part of the government, but since the Archlord had withdrawn near the end of 2172 they were no more than a privileged relic. She tolerated their access only because they likely still served some purpose of the Archlord.

Yet they said he had returned.

The call began. The face on the screen was his. Yet, perfect deepfakes had been developed more than a century ago.

"Amaoth," he began, "it is me."