Learner’s notes, day 316: Liver tests, and human Aberrations.

Human stomachs are terribly sensitive, reacting poorly to the tiniest change in it’s environment.

While I admire this specialized organ’s ability to provide nutrients to the rest of the human body and provide the first line of defense against poisons, the act of vomiting, while good for the body as a whole, is rather undignified, and extremely unpleasant.

Why so many humans drink until they vomit, is beyond me. I have recently finished construction on a stomach and liver, and decided to have a stress-test on their poison-cleansing ability.

While my original Units die off in droves, human Cells are uniquely resistant to this particular brand of poison, and after isolating my backup unit packets behind walls of human liver filtration, I was able to reach a state of ‘inebriation’, whereupon I noticed the human information processing cells in my head operated at a significant decrease in efficiency. Coordination and inhibitions were especially diminished.

At the request of several similarly inebriated locals, I changed my appearance several times in rapid succession, to a standing ovation from the room, until I turned my head into a giant spider. Humans have a strange distaste for spiders.

It’s doubtful that I would do that were I not poisoned. Interesting.

Prior to the incident that caused the people in the bar to flee, I picked up chatter about a ‘serial killer’ who’d claimed another victim, in between betting about forceball and inebriated business deals and the purchase and sale of nubile young women.

They called him – presuming he’s male – The Head Thief, due to each of the bodies over the last five years showing up oddly bereft of a head. Presumably the man collects them for some reason.

A lot of presumptions. Requires more study.

A ‘serial killer’, according to them, is a human who kills other humans for sport, and in a highly specific, compulsive way. Humans do not naturally prey upon each other in that way, and thus serial killers are viewed as an aberrations, as it is generally abhorrent for one human to kill another.

Strangely the talk was subdued and distant, as if it didn’t have any bearing on them personally, despite the fact that they were all equally at risk. They seemed to achieve some kind of mental disconnect between themselves and the victims of the killer, assuring themselves it could never happen to fit young men despite the fact that by their own admission many of the victims had been fit young men.

Is it perhaps the aversion to death and mortality manifesting itself in a rather self-detrimental way?

I wonder if a brain capable of these kinds of strange mental contortions is a requirement for unlocking the human’s ‘System’?

Requires more study.

After causing mass hysteria at that particular bar, I changed back into my favorite form and began to search the alleys for any dead beggars to dissect. While I could probably hunt humans and cut off their heads, landing the blame squarely on the head thief, something about that plan didn’t…feel right. – Gasp –

I was quietly celebrating my developing human brain’s newfound aversion to killing humans – a sign of a well-made brain – while digging through an alley full of trash, when I spotted Nadia walking by, navigating the dark street under the light of Soscath, heading for the outskirts of the city, where our main camp was.

Everything about her gait and posture spoke, ‘sore, yet satisfied.’

I wonder what –

“You there!” a Juntai guardsman’s voice interrupted Learner’s thoughts as he aimed a brilliant filament on the back of his glove toward her, illuminating the entire alley, along with Learner’s body.

“What are you doing in this alley, foreigner?” the man behind the glaring bright filament asked, his features hidden by the glare. His voice was hoarse, as though he’d spent the entire day coughing.

“Looking for dead bodies to study.” Learner responded.

“That’s…probably illegal.”

“Are you sure? I’m not making them, just looking for them.”

“Are you here with that caravan from the west?”

“Yes.”

The silhouetted figure at the end of the alley regarded her for a long moment that stretched out awkwardly between them.

“…I’m going to let you off with a warning. If I catch you rummaging through trash again, you’ll spend the night in jail, understood?”

According to Goob, jail was a horrific place where they beat you with thin sticks for the most minor infractions, things that weren’t even your fault.

Being beaten with thin sticks didn’t sound like the most constructive use of her time, so Learner decided to .

“Understood. I’ll go back to my people.”

“See that you do,” The guardsman moved out of her way, allowing her to pass.

Learner walked past the man, aiming for the street. She would simply change her appearance and try an alley further away.

When learner turned onto the alley, she stopped for a moment, sniffing the air.

Underneath the overwhelming smells of a city full of humans was something…different. Odd.

Learner headed west, following Soscath, the satellite looming bright above the main road.

A man passed by her, wringing his hands, seemingly massaging his fingers and palms as if there were some kind of ache in them.

Learner caught a whiff of the strange scent rolling off the man. It was acidic, vinegary, and though faint, it was easy for her to make it out against the tapestry of human filth. She turned to glance after him, and found him staring back at her.

He looked her up and down, his gaze calculating. It was a strange look. Learner had come very far in her ability to glean intentions behind human ‘body language’. Typically, when someone looked at her like that, it was a sign that they found her human form physically appealing, and wished to breed with it.

This one, however, while his eyes wandered her body, his stance, expression and the way he held his arms was all wrong. It spoke of a different kind of desire.

Learner stepped closer, curious to know more about this anomaly.

“You smell odd,” Learner said, inhaling, picking up the strange acrid scent again, emanating from the man’s hands. He wore leather gloves with holes poked in the fingertips, exposing the pad of his finger.

“Oh?” He asked, glancing over at the guardsman beside the alley who was leaning up against the streetcorner, keeping an eye on the two of them. Learner saw his jaw clench, a subtle indicator of frustration.

“Are you by any chance related to the foreigners? This might sound racist, but you look nearly identical to Kal” – the man bit his tongue – “To the gadveran woman.”

“She’s my cousin,” Learner responded, the cover story flowing off her tongue easily.

“My name’s Carem Sageva,” He said, making a small bow.

“My name’s Learner,”

“That’s a lovely name, what does it mean?” He asked, head cocked.

“Learner,” she translated into Juntai.

“What.”

“I learn. It’s my name because I enjoy picking things up very quickly.”

“I imagine most people would enjoy picking things up quickly,” Carem said with a chuckle.

“What’s wrong with your hands, is it some kind of mutation?” Learner asked.

Carem stiffened, glancing at the nearby guardsman, almost too fast to register.

Looks like I got it right.

“What does it do? Can I see it?”

“Ummm…” Carem hesitated for a moment, body language and subtle facial expressions indicating strong desire conflicting with extreme caution.

“Sure. Just not here… Juntai aren’t very tolerant of mutations. I’d be happy to show you at my home.”

“Excellent!” Learner said, a bright smile blooming on her face without even forcing it. She was always happy to learn something new, and her human brain was starting to display emotions without even being prompted to do so.

All the better to gain access to The System.

Learner tucked her arm around the man’s and told him to lead the way. Together they sauntered off toward the east. It looked like she wouldn’t be making it back to camp today, but that was fine.

Learner listened to him tell stories of his childhood as they walked, but she strongly suspected that they were fake, as they didn’t have the bouquet of emotions that usually accompany these things.

This Carem fellow was strange.

Finally they made it back to his house, an above average villa on the northeast side of the city. He took her to the living room and proceeded to demonstrate his mutation.

“Alright, hold still. It’ll take a moment to read your thoughts.”

“Okay,” Learner said, obliging as he placed his fingertips against her skull.

He heaved in a shuddering breath.

There was a sudden pain in the skin outside her skull as four little roots grew into her human brain.

Learner frowned as she felt the chemistry of her human brain begin to shift, chemical and Cell-based information turning into soup around the roots, beginning to rearrange themselves into an unfamiliar pattern.

Ah, that must be where the vinegar-scent came from.

“I was pretty suspicious of you at first, but by the gods, you’re dumb,” Carem said with a half chuckle. “Learner, my ass.”

“So the mutation is a direct connection to the subject’s brain? That’s quite interesting,” Learner said.

“Shhhh… it’s all fine,” the man said, and Learner felt something wash over her human brain, slowly shutting it down from outside even at it was reconstructed from inside. Her human amygdala gave a flutter of activity, sending a bolt of panic through her human organs, feeling like a jolt of lightning through her core. The sensation lasted a second before it too shut down, leaving her whole body slack.

Most interesting, Learner thought, opening an eye on the side of her head to inspect the man’s hand, and sending several of her units inside her atrophied human brain to directly investigate the roots emerging from his fingertips.

Learner’s jaw went slack as her human brain was completely disabled. Dead, in other words.

I just got that brain feeling emotions properly, Learner thought, a bit miffed at the man’s callous treatment of her mindmeats.

Still, it’s providing a lot of interesting information about brain chemistry that I wasn’t aware of. With information like this, Learner estimated that she’d be able to make an even more accurate human brain and edit it in mid-use rather than having to regrow one every time it did something she didn’t want.

I suppose I should be thankful.

Then things got weird.

Her brain started waking up again, to her surprise, only it wasn’t her brain anymore. It was vastly different, and it was rapidly establishing connections to the various organs and muscles of her human body.

“…YYyou don’t have to kill me,” She felt herself say, a passenger in her own skull. “I can help you with the other foreigners.

It was quite amusing to have someone else’s brain in her body, making the decisions for her.

Hi there, cutie. She thought, making a biologic bridge between her units and the strange brain in her skull. Who are you, taking residence in here like a hermit crab? Give me one reason I shouldn’t convert you back into biomatter.

She felt her eyes go wide, along with another jolt of fear as the other brain’s amygdala sent panic signals throughout her entire body.

“Wait, Carem, She’s not –“

Carem pulled the roots out, accompanied by a squirt of blood, grabbed her head and wrenched it all the way around, snapping the spinal column.

“Freaking retard with a six-year-old mind,” Carem muttered. “Didn’t know a damn thing I didn’t except some anatomy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Gods, if I knew she was that badly off, I wouldn’t have brought her here in the first place. it wasn’t worth the risk.”

Learner watched and listened with fascination as the strange brain inside her head died, vicariously experiencing the confusion, a rapidly dwindling thoughts, mostly revolving around his father and guilt about some thirty women.

It was a fascinating opportunity to literally be inside the head of a dying person, in a way she’d never thought to do.

She was learning so much about consciousness and the death process. This Carem fellow was a veritable Nem mine of information when it came to the brain. Finally after some three minutes of confused fumbling, the last vestiges of thought flickered out like a candle.

Then she ate the brain, reconstructing it as she went, trying to use some of the new techniques she’d learned.

***Carem***

Carem was pissed as he dragged the girl’s body to his workshop.

Nothing. NOTHING of any importance.

Thoughts about birthdays and why they’re important. Social commentary from an outsider’s perspective, where boys pee from. Why old people are saggy.

On and on it went, these memories equal in importance to advanced medical techniques to this…fucking moron. He’d learned a little bit about blood vessels and organs, but what use was it to him?

He’d fired a shot that couldn’t be taken back, unable to stop himself from taking the tantilizing prey right in front of him. Kala was going to notice her cousin’s disappearance, for sure, then her husband would notice, and then Carem was going to be in a tight spot.

He’d learned more about Calvin this evening, through Nadia’s memories. The boy was much more dangerous than he’d thought, and even though Carem knew – he knew! – it would draw him into conflict with the wizard, he had still been unable to resist the compulsion to steal the tantalizing memories of a foreigner.

How disappointing, Carem thought, laying the girl’s corpse on the bench and searching for his saw. Now it was just a matter of cleaning it up. He’d have to be far more thorough this time. There was only one corpse in the city with that skin tone, making it trivial to identify.

He’d have to bury her outside of the city once he was done destroying her skull, rather than toss her body in the river.

Carem braced his knee against her shoulder-blades with a familiar ease and set the teeth of the saw against the back of her neck. He didn’t like looking into their faces when he removed the head.

The head swiveled around to look at him, facing directly backwards.

“That was interesting,” she said.

“Gah!” Carem shouted and jumped away from the girl, slamming into the workstation behind him and sending tools clattering onto the stone flooring, creating an awful racket that pierced through the night.

Shit!

The girl’s body rose and gracefully spun off of the bench to face him, her head staying unnaturally fixated on him until her body matched the orientation of her body.

“I learned a lot.” She said with an unnatural smile, her cheeks twitching like they were having a cramp.

“What are you?”

“You don’t think I’m human? Learner asked with a frown, before nodding. “No, that makes sense, actually.”

The sound of clattering tools had woken Carem’s neighbors, who shouted at him to keep it down.

Carem didn’t bother to respond, his whole attention focused on the abomination he’d brought into his home.

“Where is that thing…” Learner muttered, searching the folds of her dress for a moment. “Aha!” she reached into her dress and pulled out a thick card. “Calvin told me to give this to anyone who found out I’m not a real person.”

Carem took the card and read the fine script, one eye on the unnatural creature watching him curiously.

So you’ve met an eldritch abomination.

You may be confronted with several conflicting emotions. Wet pants, a desire to run, the urge to try to kill it before it kills you. Strangely aroused, even.

All normal things to be feeling.

This helpful card will tell you everything you need to know to survive contact with the Fractal Mimic. – A.K.A. Learner –

Read Other Side -->

Carem turned the card over, blinking at the message he found there.

Give her the card back and walk away. Don’t fucking fuck with Learner and she won’t fucking eat you, you fucking idiot!

-Calvin Gadsint.

Carem sat there, staring at the name at the end of the letter. Calvin Gadsint. It took him a moment to realize that he was biting his lip.

“So,” The voluptuous, ebony-skinned monster said, clasping her fingers around her knee as she sat back on the workbench, dangling her other leg off the edge. “I couldn’t help but notice that you called me retarded.”