Ignacio's 3rd Chapter (to be continued)
I need a change of pace for this recently-omniscient Ignacio - something to give him vulnerability again. This chapter, he finds his way back to the mortal realm, and who knows what happens next.
This “naturalist” has consumed my every thought.
I believed that I, with access to the brain power of 10,000 men, could push persistent thoughts out to some infinite ether. No such luck, unfortunately. I’m stuck harping on some imaginary messiah. Some hack without the infinite wisdom of the High World, or the resources to do away with this world’s blights.
It’s wild how often I catch myself entranced in megalomania. Calm yourself, Ignacio, the world can handle two saviors. Or can it? We’re at odds with each other by design. I, supposedly, represent everything that someone deemed “naturalist” sees as a world destroyer.
My android army is, by nature, entirely digital and centralized. There are few, if any, means for independent thought. Certainly no way for androids, who represent as artifices in the real world, to disconnect from the High World without my say so.
Green spaces are on my list, but fairly low. I see the greater needs of society, which still requires basic means of survival. Especially in the stretches between cities.
So much of Earth’s natural beauty was lost well before my time. In a lifetime before, predating the existence of androids, cyborgs and artifices, archived only by databanks here in the High World.
Why can’t they see that my employ of artifices is entirely for world building? To automate the revitalization of a world despaired by the actions of my predecessor. To quickly, and efficiently, return the population centers of this planet into sustained prosperity.
Does this “naturalist” have resources? A vision? A means? I think not. Wait — calm down once again, Ignacio. I know too little to make such conclusions.
I haven’t had any interaction with this character, so perhaps this is all the neurotic part of me resurfacing. A part of me, buried deep, that is nowhere near as brave as the part that put together a whole rebellion against Baris. An isolated, prodding version of me who hasn’t existed since I suffered pain. Since a loss so great, I can’t even bear to think on it now.
As all of this whirs through my consciousness, I am struck by a haunting realization. The resentment of my High World androids — does it bleed through cracks in my surveillance? Is there something I can’t see when perched on my lonely hobble? While statistically improbable, this new information forces me to think between the cracks.
I need to analyze all of this more thoroughly. With a quick twist of my wrist, I summon an android who is wisdom incarnate. An old friend, without whom my rebellion (and subsequent ascendancy) would have been for naught. Known by many names: the first android and the chronicler here in the High World, and the scientist back on Earth.
Mlesna appears in a whirlwind of pixels and a spark of unnatural, radiant light.
“To what do I owe this honor, brother? You caught me in the middle of my thrice daily nap!” He yawns loudly.
I stand, with the grace of my station. “I am preoccupied, my friend. With thoughts stronger than I’ve felt since my ascendancy. I am hoping, through discourse, that I can make better headway into controlling myself. Have you any archival knowledge on the one they call “the naturalist?”
Mlesna shakes his head. “I see what you see —nothing more, nothing less. I cannot speak wisdom I haven’t access to. What is archived is what you’ve learned from sister Adelaide.”
“A shame, then.” I respond, with a hint of defeat in my voice. “I suppose you’d have the same to say about any vulnerabilities within my artifice control?”
“What I can say, brother, is that your eyes here are not your own. They are of the High World. Mighty and nearly omniscient, but flawed. This system, which is of my design, isn’t meant for surveillance. I designed it to defeat the baddies. From Earth, it observes High World baddies that do harm. In the High World, it’s meant to do the same for Earth.” Mlesna holds back a yawn after nearly every sentence.
I cock my head in confusion. “It was my understanding that we made modifications to be more observation-focused? That my HWOP is fundamentally different from the system’s original intent?”
“Well, yes.” Mlesna’s body language continues to show that he’d rather be asleep. “That doesn’t mean your HWOP and my ‘baddie-onlooker’ are perfect systems. My suggestion to you, brother and friend, is to entangle yourself again in the world of the breathing. How long has it been?”
“Nearly 15 years, give or take. With all of this new information, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it myself! Your words are revelatory, as usual, even through your feigned sleepiness. Thank you, great sage.”
“To your order, jefe. Now if you’ll excuse me, these naps aren’t going to take themselves!” Mlesna wisks away into nothing.
I make my way off the throne, zipping instantaneously into the portal room. I approach a panel projection in front of a mile high warp gate. It’s not actually a mile high, as nothing here is really as it seems. It appears to me larger than life because I’ve willed it so — where the size of the doorway to humans is proportionate to the tasks at hand.
A panel appears in front of me, with a near infinite spectrum of artifice choices. I choose an artifice shell that perfectly replicates what I looked like before taking over the High World. A callback, certainly, but also a chance for anonymity. For all of the clamor after Baris was overthrown, my contribution remains relatively unknown among the masses. The mortal world hasn’t a clue what I do, and that’s by design. No intention for glory, as was custom for the High World. The work I do is intended for betterment, and I suffer no loss of ego when good deeds go unnoticed. My power is meant as support, not supplication.
I walk through the portal and emerge as a facsimile of myself in the same laboratory where I once believed myself dead. If I were a mortal man, I’d be overwhelmed by the memories held in this space.
I tuck the anxiety away, to be examined when I am again fully present in my realm. I always have access, but I am so out of my element here that I don’t want to overwhelm this artifice setup with deep human emotion. For now I must continue this journey with strength and faculty.
My body in this realm has not aged, although my mind remains of the High World. Obviously, my elevated intellect and knowledge base is physically invisible, so my artifice self shouldn’t raise alarm. Still, I must be careful — I am unused to this.
…aaaaanndd I leave it here for now. Not my favorite chapter so far, for transparency’s sake, especially in this unfinished state. I know I’ll want to return to this and make it less dry. But for now, I wanted to think through the pangs of his peculiar human —> cyborg —> android —> artifice transition. What fears developed? What harm is he capable of? What empathy does he exhibit?
Fun stuff to think through if you ask me!