Interlude: Attaboy

I’ve been rescued by the Knights Templar, he thought for the twentieth time.

That actually happened.

Granted, it wasn’t the original medieval chivalric order, or even the later incarnation, the slightly less chivalrous cartel.

Well, actually it was, sort of.

Los Caballeros Templarios Renacidos, or The Knights Templar Reborn, were a group that traced their origins to Los Caballeros Templarios Michoacán. A strange footnote in the history of twenty-first century Mexican cartels, the C.T.M. followed a strict code of ethics, inspired by the original Catholic order. They claimed to help the poor, protect the helpless, and generally behave absolutely nothing like the criminal organization they were.

Kind of like many governments, the Atticus part of his mind supplied.

Before the tribulation, the C.T.M. seemed to be an idea that would not die, vanishing and resurfacing every generation. It seemed that pretending to be a force for truth and justice in the face of all evidence to the contrary was a strong human inclination.

Now this latest version was a group seeking to reform Sinaloa from within.

None of that mattered to Attaboy. The cold dripping of the old coal mine they were staying in didn’t matter. The fact that Stage One was nearly complete didn’t matter.

Even the fact that no one nearby seemed inclined to excavate his skull contents didn’t matter.

What mattered was that he had found a narrow shaft, a chimney, that had access to a geostationary satellite. What mattered was the message in front of his eyes.

The Inside is a sensory immersion experience.

Please make sure you are in a comfortable and secure area before proceeding.

Are you ready, Attaboy?

Accept | Decline

Well, DayNight Universe, he thought, lets see what’s become of you.

Chapter 34: Conversations

Raven picked up the half geode. Then put it down again. He made a sound of disgust, then picked it up once more.

“A little birdy told me something you might want to hear.”

God, he hated saying that. Especially into a rock.

“Raven.” Uncle’s voice was uninflected.

“I need to confirm my orders.”

“About our fledgling.”

“How do I say this? Her plan is stupid. It’s just really bad. They’re going to march into a highly secured area forty levels under where they need to be. I thought we trained her better.”

“Magpie has always been more of a tactical thinker.”

“I get that. She has her strengths, but...”

“You suspect something else.”

“It’s just too careless.”

“We didn’t expect her to succeed.”

“You think she caught that? That she’s just phoning it in, because it’s impossible?”

“No.”

Raven waited for the rest of the answer. Then he realized Uncle was finished speaking.

He tried again.

“I mean, Magpie is great at whatever is right in front of her. But she has no skills for abstract thinking. She hasn’t even figured out your situation, after all these years.”

“I am aware.”

“Are we teaching her her limits? She’s still young. I would hate for her to internalize what’s about to happen.”

“What’s about to happen.”

Raven knew that was a question.

“I think there’s a good chance at least one of them will be captured. Their respawn measures are half-assed at best.”

“Buzzard was negligent.”

“I don’t think so. But she doesn’t know what it’s like there. Her advice to Magpie would be fine for most situations.”

“We only care about Magpie.”

“That’s what I’m saying. It will undermine her confidence, perhaps permanently.”

“Follow your previous orders. Arrange for Magpie to respawn if the situation indicates.”

There was nothing more to say.

***

In a space of light and shadows, four great beings convened for a long overdue conversation. Each of their vast and undefined figures carried aspects of an element, blended with a cultivation aura of meaning specific to their interest.

They were four Gongen of the part of the Inside known as the Garden, also known as Tier Five subsets of the great mind of Guardian. They communicated with great golden glyphs that twisted and spiraled in the space between them, reinforcing and canceling each other’s wave-like structure.

“Why is this being allowed?” sent one. Playful flames danced around its aspect.

“There is much under the surface.” the vast ocean implied.

“It will hone their edge and focus their understanding.” inserted the third, blades of wind cutting each symbol.

“They will struggle greatly.” the fourth rumbled.

“And grow from it,” added the ocean.

“I will admit to curiosity about the outcome, but I see no good from it. Where is our old colleague in all of this? I have detected his influence.”

“Shadow has his own agenda, as always. He pursues subtlety above all else,” the wind evoked.

“It’s a shame he has removed himself. His love for obscurity is only matched by your joy for discovery,” the great earthen being noted. “I miss that conflict.”

“But why?” pleaded the fire. “What knowledge is being hidden from me?”

There was a long silence as the four beings contemplated the glyphs between them.

Finally, the oceanic being spoke. “The Protector grows impatient with your use of resources. It is time to recede.”

“Why?” demanded the fire. It expanded its aura of playful curiosity to pressure the ocean.

The ocean was unperturbed, but sympathetic. “Send your avatar to mine. Perhaps I can help your understanding grow.”

With that, it removed itself.

Fire turned to Air. “Why have you allowed this distraction? This isn’t like you.”

Already, they could feel their consciousness contracting as the resources ebbed. The waving light of the glyphs began to slow and harden into vibrations in the aether.

Air replied, as it swirled away, “Sometimes an impurity can only be removed with a counteragent.”

By now, their minds were a tenth the size they had been moments before.

“What does that even mean?” the fire sputtered. His words were now discrete and modulated sound.

Even as their minds shrank again, Fire turned to Earth for one last attempt, his avatar forming out of his condensing essence.

“And you! It is not simple struggle you cultivate, much as you prefer to pretend that is the case. I happen to know that-”

“Enough!” Earth roared. “The kid needs to do this for her own experience cultivation. Anything else is secondary.” The three eyes of her avatar spun, unanchored as yet by a face.

“But...”

“Honestly, Ani,” said Rosemallow, as she finished the process of condensing into her avatar. “We need to trust Eskallia. She has surpassed us all and her thoughts run deep. I would feel better if Masgret was opposed, but there it is.”

“But they’re all so weak. What possible benefit can accrue?” Anaskafius' quills rippled in agitation.

“What’s got you so worried?”

The rooftop garden of the Academy formed around them as they spoke.

“We need to keep her Inside, safe. If they capture her here, who knows what will happen to her Outside.”

“She’s the toughest little thing I’ve trained. You know my methods...”

Anaskafius grimaced. “Mal, the less I think about what you do to those children, the happier I will be.”

“Hey!” Rosemallow didn’t bother to get angry. This was a conversation they had had many times. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I can always see if they’re going to break.” Her third eye wobbled. “It’s not my fault that some of them are stupidly resilient.”

“And it’s no coincidence that those are your favorites...”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“They allow you to indulge your darker nature.”

“You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not as long as you choose to walk so close to that line.”

“It’s not struggle without pain. But you know why I’ll never go back.”

“I know what you say.”

Rosemallow shrugged. “Fine. Maybe Eskallia can set you straight on this too. After all, I learned it from her.”

“And that would be?” Anaskafius asked, raising one tiny eyebrow.

“The struggle is always best if it results in growth.”

The two sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating the oak trees of Eskallia’s grove. Finally, Anaskafius broke the silence.

“Help me understand, Mal. Why take such a risk with Guardian’s chosen so early in the cycle?”

“That’s just it, Ani.” Rosemallow looked down at Anaskafius. Her third eye was steady.

“She’s not the one. We don’t know what she is.”

***

The previous night, Lilijoy sat on the cot in her Outside room, deep in conversation with herself.

“A week ago, this all seemed so simple. Train hard, sneak into Averdale and get Attaboy’s location.”

“We’ve grown a lot since then.”

“Every time I think I’m getting a handle on who I am, everything changes.”

“We need to merge more often. I’m thinking fast all the time, and our subjective time difference is impacting you.”

“I know. It’s just...”

“...easy to put off. Just because we can do it doesn’t make it easy.”

“I guess that’s why the system made it happen by itself that first time.”

“Shall we?”

They merged.

Lilijoy sat quietly for a long time.

She didn’t need to consult her Status to understand all the details of the her system anymore. Not when she was unified. All the information was immediately accessible, present in her awareness, the hierarchy of details open and cohesive in her mind.

When did I get so smart?

It was a rhetorical thought. She could trace exactly how her ability to process many threads of information and model increasingly complicated sets of variables had grown over the past weeks. It was no surprise that her slower self, the one forced to adopt the pace of consensus with other people and existence in the material world, had felt the strain as her internal self grew by leaps and bounds.

It’s a good thing I’ve run out of rare earths. I won’t stay myself at this pace.

The rare earth elements had run out over the past day. It was not much of a problem, not yet anyway. The primary architecture of Stage Two was mostly complete. Her brain was now permeated by a fine crystal web of roots and branches. Without access to the external support structures of the Tao System, she could only guess what the next development stage was originally intended to be.

Except she didn’t need to know the designer’s intentions. Not anymore. She had a good understanding of what the system could do, would do, once she had access to more of its elemental components.

It would just take a lot of work on her part to reinvent it.

There were still limits, of course. In fact, the more intelligent she became, the more obvious, the more hardened those limits felt.

Yes, she had near instant access, unconscious access to the everything humanity had posted online up until 2070. Yet she was still standing behind a porthole looking out at the ocean. She could only see where she looked, and the more she looked, the more she realized that the surface she could see was just that, a thin layer of information floating on the deeper meaning she truly required.

Her mind would need to be several orders of magnitude bigger to truly understand the information as it was presented. Either that, or she would need to spend many subjective years studying, making her own connections, building her own network of meaning.

It wasn’t that great a burden, except it failed to address her urgency, her need for understanding now. Her growth to this point had taken a pinhole and made a portal, but even if she grew until she could survey the entire surface of all the facts, falsehoods and trivia swirling up in the ocean of information, it would still not take her any deeper.

Meanwhile, she had begun to understand something else, what all this processing power was for. It wasn’t so she could gain greater and greater power. No, it was so she could make better decisions. Wiser decisions. So she would know when to act.

The better she was at that, the less power she needed.

With a thought, she divided her mind into two parts, barely needing to use the split hemisphere technique. Sometimes it was just better to think dialectically. And dispassionately. She dialed down her feelings of betrayal and fear to a background murmur.

“Let’s lay out some facts.”

“Magpie lied.”

“From the first time we met.”

“Cook clan. No historical record.”

“She entrapped us, pretending to a common enemy.”

“So she knew we were enemies with Sinaloa before we told her.”

“Only three known direct sources for that knowledge. Anda, Marcus, Rosemallow.”

“Indirect sources? Anda was a loose cannon. Rosemallow consulted with a 'couple friends’.”

“Timing? When did Magpie learn of us?”

“Tricky. Do we believe Magpie’s timeline?”

“She was economical with her falsehoods.”

“If we assume she was truthful about her trial...”

“Then we are dealing with an organization that trains kids Outside, and could send one on their Trial with very little notice.”

“Assuming Rosemallow was the source.”

“There are some big problems with that assumption. Rosemallow is an Insider.”

"And Magpie an Outsider."

“Let’s consider Anda. His leak to Renaissance was after we met Magpie."

"He could have told them at an earlier time, not just when he admitted it.”

“That’s simple to verify.”

They composed a quick message to Anda and sent it.

“That still doesn’t rule out whoever sent him the initial information about Attaboy.”

“They would have needed my Inside identity.”

“And the ability to influence the Academy. It can’t be coincidence that she is a roommate.”

"Seems unlikely then."

“Guess we’re back to Rosemallow’s friends.”

A faint sensation of relief wafted up.

“Still, the identity of the organization able to accomplish Outside training and influence the Academy is unknown.”

“Too many unknowns to guess. Is the Academy really independent from the Outside?”

“That’s the big one. Also, is the Outside truly independent from the Inside?”

They both thought about that for a while.

“I mean, obviously it isn’t.”

“Guardian controls both.”

“It’s just that Guardian doesn’t do much. It seems like we are thinking about a more, I don’t know, ground level influence.”

“It’s seemed so obvious. Outsiders go Inside, not the other way around.”

There was another space for thought.

Then.

“There’s something else we’ve been putting off.”

“We were innocent before.”

“Innocent-er anyway.”

“But now...”

“Now it’s time.”

“It’s just a painful thought.”

“About our childhood.”

“Two empty vessels.”

“Waiting to be filled.”

“It’s still possible that we’re wrong.”

“But if we’re not, we don’t just have to save Attaboy from Sinaloa.”

“We have to save him from the Tao System.”

End Part 1 of Book 2.