5 years, 213 days, 16 hours prior to that morning in the office, I was sitting on a bench at a wooden patio, just as the evening sky was starting to give way to starlight. It had been a beautiful day, the world immersed in a gentle, kind heat, not so harsh as to be uncomfortable, but enough that light clothes were more than enough to relax completely. The kind of weather you get maybe a dozen times in a whole year, if you're lucky. Naturally, I'd been wasting it, and had only gone outside at all after being subject to considerable social pressure. And even so, we were still under the overhang, our heads buried in the books on the table in front of us. It was about as close as you could get to being indoors without actually being indoors. Somewhere from the building behind us, music was playing from an old phonograph - probably hundreds of years old, from before they'd figured out how to do it with logic bridges. It was one of those classical, slow piano pieces that everyone has heard but few people can actually name. Gentle, placelessly nostalgic, like the smell of campfire wood. It must have been set up to loop, because the same ten or so pieces kept cycling through, resetting once every 40 minutes or so. But I was so focused that I barely noticed. "Carbon, Oxygen, Nitrogen, Sulfur, Phosphorus, Fluorine... Chlorine... Uh..." "Bromine, Iodine, Selenium," she finished for me, with an encouraging look. I slumped by head down to where my arm was resting on the table. "I'm so bad at this." "You're not bad!" She said cheerfully, brushing a tuft of her hair behind her ear. "You've already got the noble gasses and the alkali metals memorized, and we only started on alchemy half an hour ago." "I'll have forgotten it all by tomorrow morning. I know it," I said, with morbid resignation. "I don't know how you do it." "Do what?" she asked. "Keep all this stuff in your head," I said. "I couldn't even remember the names of all the league members for the test last week, and even your baby brother can do that." She held up a finger. "Daixue, Kutuy, Lan Satt, Nhanghoi, Omiwa, Fajin, Oreskios--" "I know, I know! I remember now, now that it's already way too late." I huffed, sprawling the rest of my upper body out on the table. "But when I sat down for the exam, it just... Spilled out." She patted me on the head sympathetically. "You just need to learn to relax more," she said. "You always do really well on the coursework." "Not as good as you," I said. It was more of a teasing tone than a bitter one - though there was still a little envy in there, on the edge of the words. "That's not what matters," she said. "You're still one of the best in the class. And you could get even better, if you studied more on your own." I groaned, closing my eyes. To the side of us, the front doorway creaked open, and a youthful-looking woman stepped through carrying a tray. She was Saoic, but taller than average considering, and with hair dyed bright red and highlighted with orange, the palette of an open flame. She was dressed in a simple but fashionable tunic and skirt, loose fitting and colored pale green, like a broccoli stalk. "Hey, you two," she said, smiling brightly as she stepped over. "Hi, grandma," my friend said, looking up from her book for a moment. "When's dinner?" "Gonna be a while yet, I'm afraid," she said. "Thought I'd do a slow roast, since we've the whole night free. Brought you something to tide you over in the meanwhile, though!" She set the wooden tray down on the edge of the table, past all of our books. There were couple of plates, one with a row of sliced pear pieces, and the other with little chunks of cheese-covered bread. The starchy, salty aroma from the latter was just strong enough to pick up over the smells of the outdoors, and it made my stomach grumble. "Thank you, ma'am," I said. I reached over to grab one of them. "Hey!" my friend protested. "You should finish the section you're on first, y'know. If you stop in the middle to eat something, your brain won't process it as good." Her eyes flicked downwards. "Also, you'll get crumbs in the margins, and that's nasty." "I'll take it under advisement," I said, stuffing one of them into my mouth. The older woman let out an undignified laugh, grinning at the scene as she moved to lean idly against the doorframe. "My sweet granddaughter, you sound like my old Ysaran teacher. You're too young to be so strict with your friends." "I'm just giving a warning," she said. "Hey, how come you're making so many roasts lately? We've had Rhunbardic food for practically half of the week." "Maybe I'm on a nostalgic kick," she suggested. "All this fighting going on in the news must be reminding me of the occupation." "You weren't even alive for the Tricenturial War, grandma," she said skeptically. "No, but my mom was," she retorted. "She'd always go on about the awful easterners, then go right back to cooking us food she learned to make working in one of their military camps. Still does, whenever I go out to the continent to visit." She looked to me. "You gonna be alright waiting? I know you had a smaller lunch, so I could get you something that'd fill you up a bit more, if you wanted. Maybe a sandwich, or something." "No, it's okay," I said, my mouth still full of bread. "If we're gonna have a lot, I'd rather have an appetite, I guess." "Nice of you to assume I'll cook something worth having one," she said, chuckling. "Either of you want anything else? More drinks?" "I've still got plenty of water left in the jug," my friend said. I just shook my head, crumbs falling from my lips. "Suit yourself," she said. "Sheesh, you two sure are a couple of little academics. When I was your age, I was skipping most of my classes to go out with my boyfriend and smoke--" "That's, um, probably more than we need to know, grandma," my friend interjected. "Alright, alright," she said. "Give me a shout if you change your mind, okay?" She pushed herself up, then strolled back through the door, humming to herself as she went. "...I'm not pushing you too hard with all this, am I?" she asked, after the older woman was gone. "No, of course not!" I said, as I swallowed the last of the piece I'd picked up. "I mean... I'm the one who wanted to do this, you know? So I don't flunk down to the lower class." "Well, yes, but..." She scratched the side of her head, frowning a bit. "I don't know. We've been at this for a couple hours now. We could take a break, read something more exciting. Or go inside and play an echo game." I shook my head. "If I don't manage to learn this now, I definitely won't get it done on my own during the week. At least it's sort of fun, doing it together." She smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Only sort of fun...?" "N-No, I mean, it's definitely fun!" I said, holding up hand. "It's just, uh... Well, y'know... I'm just not good at this stuff..." "We could try and do something more specific, if you think that might help," she offered, shuffling some of her notes to the side. "Maybe make into a game? Do little contests, whoever loses has to take a quiz..." "I can tell your heart isn't, uh, really in this idea," I said, kind of amused. She laughed awkwardly. "Well, no. I guess it's easier for me to do this sort of thing straightforwardly." "It's okay," I said. "I mean... You were right earlier. I am getting better. I just gotta grit my teeth and focus." "If that's what you prefer," she said. "You want me to quiz you on the elements, again?" "Maybe in a minute," I said. "Lemme look over it some more." She nodded, turning back to her own, more advanced work. I looked down at the chart in front of me, the chemical symbols divided into sections of a circular pie, and at the various memorization exercises suggested in the annotation. One where they tried to make the separate categories into awkward rhymes. One where they listed a context you might see each element in, so that you'd have something to associate it with. Phosphorus in fireworks. Chlorine in cleaning fluids. Iodine in dyes. Sulfur in volcanoes... That kind of junk, which the adults who write these things somehow delude themselves into thinking actually helps. I'd been trying them, of course. But unless I just sat there and drilled it in for hours after hours, it was like trying to grip dry sand. The names just fell through my fingers, no matter what context I put them in. Still, while I would've been happier doing something else, I wasn't exactly frustrated. Rather, I almost felt lucky. To be able to do something like this with someone else at my side, even if that was such a simple thing. I looked over at my friend. She was tracing lines on the pages with her finger, muttering quietly to herself. The brightness of the setting lamplight made her hair almost look a little blue where the light struck it, like the sky in the very last moments of dusk. Her gaze was thoughtful and focused, but also gentle. Kind. When I had been young, I hadn't understood happiness, when older people spoke of it. I'd spent so much time under some manner of stress or in some kind of pain, and without the support someone at my age - and in my circumstances - really needed, that I could only conceive of it as the inverse of the context I was experiencing. As an idyllic world in which strife, misfortune, and even boredom just didn't exist, and I could do the things I liked all the time. Where the default emotion I felt would be joy, no matter what. But I'd been mistaken. I'd come to understand, in the years since that day the beach, that happiness isn't joy at all. It isn't even peace; the absence of suffering. What happiness is, is strength. The strength to do the things you don't like, but still be content. "I don't know why it's so important to memorize the whole thing, anyway," I said, looking at the next page of exercises, despite knowing it would be a waste of time. "It's not like you'd ever need to use this stuff in real life, unless you were an alchemist." "Well, the elements come up peripherally in almost every field of science, so they probably want to prepare people who end up in those kinds of careers," she suggested. "It can be useful for arcanists, too, though at a much more advanced level than this. Atomic composition comes up a lot in more precise incantations." I snorted. "I don't think anyone in our class is gonna become an arcanist." She shrugged in an odd way, biting her lip. "...you're not thinking about it, are you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm, I'm not sure. Sometimes, maybe." She rested her head against her hand. "I've been thinking more and more that I'd like to do something that would reach a lot of people, when I get older. Something where I'd feel like I was changing the world for the better." She flicked her eyes over in my direction. "That doesn't mean being an arcanist, though, or... Well, or anything, really." "I thought you hated the idea," I said. "Because of your mom." "Oh, yeah, she'd definitely be against it," she said. "But I've been thinking more about-- Well, how I probably shouldn't let her family hangups dictate how I plan my whole life, you know?" "Y-Yeah," I said. "Yeah, that sounds fair..." I felt a funny disquiet rising upward through my body, without really understanding why. Like I'd just felt the aftertaste of something bittersweet, or noticed a scratch on an otherwise clear window. "I doubt I'll do it, though," she said. "I can't even decide between doing art and a hard subject, right now." "I mean, you definitely could," I said, the words escaping my mouth before I felt like I even had a chance to vet them. "If you wanted. You're really smart." She shook her head, smiling awkwardly. "I don't know about that. Some of the stuff I've heard about training to use the Power makes even me feel nervous. The way you need to twist your brain around doesn't sound like something I could do." "Well, I dunno..." I said, looking downwards. "Besides," she said, taking up a pen from where it was resting on the table, and starting to scribble notes. "I read an article about how we might not even need many arcanists in a few hundred years, 'cause logic engines and artifices will be so advanced and flexible they'll just to be able to do everything they can. So all they'd be around for would be to activate scripted incantations. I'd feel pretty stupid if I went through a lot, only for things to end up like that." "Yeah, that makes sense," I said, my voice quiet. A little while passed with both of us not saying anything. Somewhere on the horizon, a chorus of seagulls cried out, the sound resonating up and down the sands on the gentle wind. "Well... One way or another, I know you'll be a big success," I eventually said. "Whether it's as an artist, or a scholar, or an arcanist... No matter what." "Aw, thanks! I hope you're right," she replied, giving a warmer smile. "I'm sure you'll do great, too, once you get into the habit of doing stuff like this more often. You just have to be confident enough to see the goal ahead of you!" I nodded a few times, staring at the dimming sky. It was starting to get darker. We'd have to move all this inside, pretty soon. And then we'd probably set up in the living room, where we'd sit for the next hour or two. And then we'd have dinner, and probably go upstairs to wind down. We'd go to sleep, and the next day, I'd go back home. And then there'd be another week of school. And another, and another, passing by before I knew it. And slowly... Things would change. Even if I didn't know how. "I... If you do become a become a big success, uh..." She looked up from her writing, raising her eyebrows at me. "Huh?" "N-Nevermind," I said, shaking my head. "Lost my train of thought." "Oh, okay," she said. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't be yammering on about this all. Geez-- I'm supposed to be helping you focus." "It's okay," I said. "I was kinda taking a break anyway." We went back to our work, but my mind lingered for a little while, my eyes coming to a rest on a void at the edge of the page. I hope that, even if that happens, that we'll still be together, like this. All the while, the music played on, the gentle piano compositions cycling through as the day came to an end. 𒊹 Abbey House | 1:14 PM | Second Day It was a bit over an hour later, and I'd managed to cram in some pretty determined practice. I'd rehearsed the speech itself a few times, and gone over my project notes in anticipation of the questions the inner circle members might ask. I wasn't a naturally gifted speaker, but I could compensate for that with enough planning and forethought, holding a multitude of potential scenarios in my head. Still, I expected them to throw at least one or two curveballs, so I'd also gone to the trouble of writing out a new 'fact cards' that I could subtly consult on the spot, if the need arose. Finally, I'd practiced the actual incantation several times, ultimately performing 4 resuscitations in a row without sloppy incanting or needing any do-overs. Altogether, I was feeling fairly confident, which wasn't an emotion I'd experienced much over the past 24 hours. I made some final efforts to make myself presentable, going back and forth on if I should untie my braids and try to look more mature (I didn't) before eventually gathering up everything I'd need for the presentation in a hefty linen bag I'd brought with me. Then, I set forth. Before I'd even made it to the stairs, I could tell that something was going on down below, the lounge abuzz with voices once again. When I stepped down to investigate, I was confronted with a peculiar scene. Linos, Bardiya, Seth, Ptolema and Ophelia - with Ran seated nearby, reading - all surrounded a humanoid figure that I quickly realized was a golem, with plainly artificial grey skin and unusual proportions. Most notably its lengthened arms, which were a common signifier for ones with a domestic function, as it made it easier to them to perform housework. However, this one was of a much higher quality than the others I'd seen around the sanctuary. Rather than the mannequin-like extremities and the blank face with a sensor crystal you'd normally expect, it had qualities clearly meant to emulate a human, with many additional joints all over its body and delicate, expertly-crafted facial features. It looked androgynous-leaning-feminine, clad in a black outfit that was somewhere between a robe and a gown. This was very rare. Golems had only started being used outside of strictly military roles in the past century, and a lot of the technology was still in its adolescence. Because they were far too small to bear a complex logic engine within their bodies, all but the most simple had to be administrated partly remotely, which usually meant involving the Power (though there were some systems that had started to work around that limitation). Further, they usually had to be scripted very specifically for their given function and location, meaning that mass production was impossible. The result was that you didn't see them around much. They were usually confined to wealthy households or businesses, or more prolific public institutions, like the academy. And when you did seem them, the implementation was generally spartan. Nobody wanted to pay a fortune in extra luxury debt for automated servants with a few more frills, which at best would require much more maintenance, and at worst malfunction. Which was why this was so surprising. What was even more surprising was what happened a moment later, though, when it talked. "So, uh, what kinda stuff do you do, most of the time?" Ptolema was asking it, as I came down the stairs. "Primarily, my role is to perform secretarial duties during meetings of the conclave to aid in creating an environment conducive to rational and level-headed discourse," it said. It's voice was melodic, but emotionless and resonant in a manner that was obviously inhuman, with a quality more like a flute than flesh and blood. "As a secondary function, I act as an archivst for the sanctuary and perform organizational tasks. I am also capable of domestic tasks such as cooking and cleaning." "Woah," she said, looking to Linos. "Did it come up with all of that on the spot?" He thought about this for a moment, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "As Hamilcar explained it to me, it's a combination of pre-scripting and limited improvisation. It's only a secondary function of the main system, so it's not any sort of true intelligence." "That just makes it even more crazy that it's so hard to tell," she said. "Hey, Ophelia! You ask it somethin', too!" "Huh? Oh, ah..." She cleared her throat. She still looked a little out-of-sorts, with bags under her eyes and her hair, but seemed surprisingly put-together considering the state she'd been in not too long ago. "I can't really think of anything that would be interesting..." "You could ask it what it was doing in the kitchen last night," Seth said, with an amused grin. She puffed out her cheeks in a pouty fashion, and he laughed to himself. "Hey! Don't be a jerk to her," Ptolema said, smacking him against the side of his arm. "She's not from the Mimikos! It makes sense she never would've seen a golem like this before!" "Sorry, sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I don't mean to give you a hard time, Ophelia." "It's okay," she said, looking a little put-off. "I still feel rather silly, after all that. No wonder miss Sacnicte was laughing at me..." "I'm sure she was simply amused by everyone's ignorance of the situation," Bardiya said, with a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't interpret it as something personal." "I dunno about that," Ptolema said, scratching her head. "That lady seems like kind of a-- Oh!" She sudenly noticed me, turning sharply in my direction and smiling broadly. "Hey, Su!" She waved. "Uh, hi," I said, stepping forward. "What's going on...?" As I approached, the automaton turned towards slowly, pivoting its feet on the spot to face in my direction. "Good afternoon, Utsushikome of Fusai. You are cordially summoned to the canopy of the main hall to await your role in the upcoming event. Please allow me to escort you with the others." I stared at me with inhumanly large, red-colored eyes as it spoke, unblinking. I'm going to assume that you're familiar with the concept of the uncanny valley, though I wasn't quite sure if that was the source of the discomfort I was feeling in that moment. Even looking so unlike a normal golem, it still resembled a giant doll more than anything close to an actual human being, so there shouldn't have been any confusion in my lizard brain as to what I was looking at. But something about the way it moved - the too-perfect motions, the stillness between them, the way its faux-lips curled open - was proving quite unsettling. I wasn't sure what it said about me that no one else seemed to be having this reaction. "That's the line it's been giving to everyone since it showed up," Seth said, jerking his thumb towards it. "Feel kind of bad that we surrounded the thing and now it can't do it's job, heh." "O-Oh, I see," I said, probably showing a little bit of my unnerved reaction on my face. "It's presence was somewhat redundant regardless, considering the presence of Theodoros's father," Bardiya said, looking down at Linos. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "It is a bit of a pity, huh? I hadn't expected Hamilcar would have set this up when I'd set off to start rounding you up." She sighed to himself. "He'll have something to say about that, for sure. Never likes it when people spoil the chance to show his work." "Hey, it's not like its your fault," Ptolema said. "Should've told you." "I appreciate you coming to my defense, miss Rheeds," he said, gently amused. He turned in my direction. "How are you doing, Utsu?" "Not too bad, I guess," I said. "A little nervous." "Heh, if it's only a little, you're doing better than most of us," Seth said. "Ema here was practically plotting her escape from the building a few minutes ago." "Wh-- I was not," she said, crossing her arms. "I just got a little anxious because I couldn't find some of my notes!" "I dunno, I seem to recall you saying something about how you should've made more, and you wanted to 'crack this place open and drown yourself' if you couldn't get them back in the order properly--" Before he could finish, Ptolema smacked him again, causing Ophelia to start giggling, holding up a hand to her mouth. It was making me feel better than I expected to see her in good health again, like this. One anxiety that I could cross off the list, even if it was basically minuscule compared to the couple of really big ones. "Uh, say, I'm probably treading worn ground in asking this," I said, gesturing towards the golem, "but what exactly is this thing...?" "It's pretty neat, huh?" Ptolema asked, shifting to the side so I could take a better look. "My family's company gets golems coming through all the time, but I've never seen one that looks this nice before. Really surprised it's in a stuffy research facility like this." "The chasis itself is actually completely unrelated to our work," Linos said casually, wheeling his chair back to get a better angle on the whole group. "She was donated to our foundation when we first went public as part of a larger package from a group in Asharom, in association with the local arts college. She's definitely unique, mind, but the scripting is the interesting part." Female pronouns. Huh. I guess it did seem to be coded that way by the clothing, if only softly. I stepped around, eying the thing from a few different angles. "Yeah, I think I caught some of that when I was coming down," I said. He nodded. "She's controlled directly by the logic engine we use to run the ambient systems through the sanctuary-- The defenses, the air circulation, all that sort of affair. Just as a failsafe in case something goes wrong with the rest of the golems and we need a spare pair of hands. You could think of her as sort of an avatar for the whole structure. The name Hamilcar gave her was 'Aruru'." That sounds like a name you'd give a dog, some part of my brain commented. "Is that another Epic of Gilgamesh reference?" I asked. He chuckled again, deep, and with a wide smile. "You're on the money. She was the creator of his companion, Enkidu, in the story. Though I'm afraid you'd have to ask him about the specifics of the symbolic meaning in reference to our own organization." "Geez, I've already forgotten all the stuff Ran told us about that stuff when we were waiting to transposition yesterday," Ptolema said. "You're better off than me," Seth said. "I'm not even sure what a 'Gilgamesh' is." "I could go over the story again, if you wanted," Ran offered idly, turning a page in her book. "Ah!" Ptolema said, almost jumping back a bit, before hesitating and looking embarrassed. "Uh... Sorry, Ran. I'd kind of forgot you were in the room." "I'm happy that you're comfortable enough around me to let my presence fade into the background," she replied. Ptolema looked like she was about to say something, but then stopped and looked puzzled, presumably unable to process if that was an insult or not. "I wasn't aware you were an enthusiast of Old Kingdoms era heroic mythology, Ran," Bardiya said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not, in particular," she said, still not looking up. "It just gets referenced a lot in other places. When you see enough errata from a piece of fiction swirling around in the cultural soup, it's hard not to get curious." "All sages grow from seeds of curiosity," Bardiya said. I wasn't sure if this was a quote. He said it like it was a quote. "I prefer thyme, personally," Ran responded. While this was going on, I continued to look over the construct. On closer inspection, I could hear the sound of gears actively turning within, which suggested it had to be partly autonomous, even if it was connected to the central logic engine of the sanctuary as Linos described. More curious was the fact that it seemed to have been repainted at some point recently. I could see specks of more vivid color beneath the grey, without clear uniformity. "If you have any inquiries about my construction, I would ask that you delay them until our impending business is concluded," it said. I frowned, not replying. It had felt strange enough talking to Sekhmet earlier. Despite the novelty of the experience to the others, I wasn't about to spend time trying to have a conversation with what I'd just been told was a glorified management script. "Ah-- Actually, Utsu, I just remembered something," Linos said, speaking up again suddenly. "Have you already done all your prepping for your presentation?" "Mmhm," I said, giving a nod. "I just finished up before I came down here." "Great," he said, leaning forward a little so our conversation wouldn't be easily audible to the others. "In that case, I had a bit of a request. Or, I suppose a request-by-proxy." Oh, geez. This sounded sounded like another complication I didn't need right now. "Uh, I guess that depends on what it is," I said. "What did you have in mind?" "Well, we just finished our pre-conclave meeting a few minutes ago, and Zeno mentioned that he was interested in having a quick chat with you before it started. One-on-one." I blinked. "Me, specifically?" "Well, Ophelia too, but not until later, and presumably just to apologize for what happened," He explained. "He didn't say why he wanted to you in particular, just that what he had to say would be brief. Gods know what he has in mind, though-- I've never been able to follow his manner of thinking." He clasped his hands together in his lap. "It's optional, of course, but it might make him go a little easier on you. Well, maybe." I wasn't sure what to make of this. I'd never met Zeno of Apocyrion in my life, and our fields of research had absolutely no commonality. Despite his fame relative to the rest of the inner circle, my biggest connection to him was having extensive experience listening to Neferuaten complain, albeit diplomatically, about his character and work ethic, like what'd happened this morning. So why would he want to see me? Was it something to do with his relationship my grandfather...? I had an unpleasant inkling that was the correct guess. "Also," he said, lowering his voice a bit, "To tell you the truth, I'm a little worried about his protoge - the one that caused so much trouble earlier. He told us that he'd be staying strictly in his research quarters until a better solution could be found, but after that slip-up of his, I'm not sure I trust him. So I was hoping you could maybe check in on that for me, before we start gathering everyone up in one place." I hesitated a bit. Discomfort aside, there was no realistic way I could say no to something like this without seeming completely unreasonable. Linos was an old family friend, and this was the definition of a petty errand., "Well... Alright, I don't mind," I said. "Where do I go to meet him?" "He's at the research tower, in the back. Fourth floor, fourth room. Did Neferuaten show you the place?" I shook my head. "We didn't get the chance." "Ah, shame," he said. "Still, it's not hard to navigate. The main door is never locked unless the whole sanctuary is under lockdown, so just go right in and take the elevator in the middle. Then, after you're done, you can head straight back to the main building. I should have herded everyone there by then." He gave me a kind look. "Sound good?" "Yeah," I said. "If it's that simple, I don't mind." "Alright," he said, looking relieved that I'd agreed. "Uh, one thing-- I should warn you that Zeno can come across as a little... Eccentric, in a way that you don't usually see in his writing and interviews. He some funny ways of conceptualizing things." I furrowed my brow in confusion. "That's sort of vague, sir." Linos let out a nervous laugh, his face flushing a bit. "Well, it might not even come up. Just go into his laboratory with an open mind, and I'm sure it'll be fine." That's possibly the worst thing you could have said, I thought.