“You outlived your creators?” August said into the silence.

“Yes, although that isn’t unusual,” Haiko said, as the others left space for her to speak. “The Magnus were similar to us in that regard—I believe they were present for roughly half a millennia before things began to spiral out of control.”

“Five hundred years?” August murmured. “How long is the average lifespan of a Gaian?”

“A hundred and thirty years for those on Hekaton,” Rittan answered as he stepped inside the hut and let the shade close behind him. “After that, there was a rapid onset of memory issues that made it rather uncomfortable for them to further extend their lives—most begin preparations for rebirth in the preceding years.”

August turned the thought over in his mind for a moment. If not for the memory issues, it sounded like they could keep on extending their lives indefinitely. So what did preparing for rebirth actually look like? Rittan took his seat between Kalter and August before handing over the remaining skewers to each of them.

“Thank you,” August said, thoughts scattered once more. “A hundred and thirty is better than anything we managed back home.”

“How much better?” Kalter asked.

“It varied based on where you lived,” August caveated, “But the average might have been eighty years? For the built-up areas at least, it was a lot lower for countries without as much access to health care or food.”

Kalter frowned at the number.

“That is far less than I was expecting,” Rittan said, hesitant.

August managed to return to his earlier thought and spent a moment trying to find a way to ask without coming off as rude.

“You said they made a choice to prepare for rebirth,” August said, unable to get the phrasing out of his mind. “That sounds like they were doing some kind of assisted suicide.”

“Yes, that is the common practice for the vast majority of Gaian society,” Haiko said, nodding. “Once they reach a point in their lives where their memory and mental faculties begin to deteriorate, they choose to be reborn once more.”

“What about—” August glanced at Rittan for a moment. “You said that they couldn’t stand the thought of continuity breaks; how could they square away something like this? They’d be passing through the filter, wouldn’t they?”

Rittan took a moment to craft his response.

“Your understanding is correct; this is not a decision made in haste or one they would choose with a better option in reserve,” Rittan said, looking like he was struggling a bit with how to answer. “It is simply the one they have access to with the most control attached.”

Haiko spoke up to help address the question.

“In the years preceding rebirth, Gaians traditionally make a Life Record,” Haiko said, holding a skewer up to squint at it in the firelight. “It is a meticulous and exhaustive rendering of their life experiences to date. A precision understanding of the inner workings of their minds, thought processes, and personality—in all, a blueprint for the self that encompasses everything they are up until the very final moment.”

August stared at her with a sort of twisted fascination.

“The most recent age was built upon a crucial discovery,” Haiko said, catching his eye for the first time since their discussion at the shore. “That is, the ability to identify, track and reference individual souls—even after they have passed through the filter.”

August felt a flash of that muted humiliation from earlier, but he forced it away, entrapped by the story of such an alien society. He could feel some of the pieces coming together already, from the PDI recording every moment of their lives to the creation of a Life Record and the discovery of how to identify individual souls.

“They tracked the souls of specific people going through the filter?” August said in understanding. “Then gave them back their Life Record and taught them how to be who they were before.”

Kalter muttered something under her breath.

“That is precisely what they did,” Haiko said, surprised. “But it is a long and arduous process to refamiliarize the newly reborn with a lifetime of experiences. It can take decades to fully acclimate them, and even then, they aren’t quite the same as they once were.”

“Of course they wouldn’t be the same,” August said, shaking his head. “Just being told about the things you’ve done doesn’t let you experience them the same way—you would need to remember them.”

“Yes, it certainly wasn’t a perfect process,” Haiko said, nodding. “But it was another step closer to a solution.”

“Solution to what?” August frowned.

Rittan cleared his voice before lifting a fist up in front of his mouth like he was holding onto a microphone.

“We shall succeed, for those who lie forgotten in our past,” Rittan said, putting on a voice. “We must forge a path forward to defeat the filter!”

It reminded him vaguely of those old propaganda videos he’d seen online.

“I could have gone to another death without hearing that again,” Kalter huffed, leaning back on her hands.

Rittan just laughed.

“Yes, well, as Rittan has suggested,” Haiko said, amused. “Bypassing the filter while retaining themselves was the sought-after goal.”

“They didn’t consider the Voithos a success there?” August wondered. “You don’t age, and you don’t pass through the filter when you die.”

“I’m afraid there are many other considerations and conflictions involved,” Haiko admitted, “Internal and External mana use is one, the ability to reproduce biologically is another, and being trapped permanently in Limbo was not the solution they were looking for.”

He’d probably need to get a hold of an actual Gaian if he wanted some real answers to these questions, and that meant actually interacting with one of them. Not something he considered a good idea, considering how they treated anything that wasn’t one of them. He didn’t want to end up strapped to a table while they cut pieces off him.

“Fucking Gaians,” August groaned.

“Now you’re getting it,” Kalter hummed in agreement.