“You… want to have a conversation with me?” I asked, dumbstruck. As far as I could tell, the being before me was in exactly the same shell as The Consumer, but what was inside was not the same sort of thing at all. The grey spirit I had been pulled away from (or that had been pulled away from me?) was a monolithic presence - the inevitability of endings were all that it was. This thing? It was not so simple.

It was staring into deep, starless space. There was resounding, overwhelming emptiness, the loneliness of drifting between the stars for untold eons, the certainty that things would end up this way, sooner or later. I felt melancholy, gazing into the abyss, but also strangely hopeful. There was a note of something positive mixed in, though I couldn’t call to mind what it was.

It was then that I realized that I had no idea how long I had been looking at this spirit. It took an effort of will, but I was able to refocus on the human-shaped shell. The smile remained on its ‘face’.

“Have you completed your inspection? Do you find me an acceptable conversation partner?” The air buzzed and fizzed, the voice coming from a pretty broad area around the spirit. It sounded like the cross between a swarm of bees and a distant waterfall, the words coming through with only marginal clarity.

“Yes,” I said, like a complete idiot. This thing was immense, and I was having trouble composing myself in the face of it. The other two spirits I had seen were big enough that it was already difficult to feel out the scope of them. This thing was bigger. I couldn’t really tell by how much, but it felt like a lot.

“Very well. Now give me your memory.” The voice was getting progressively clearer, sounding incrementally more like a distorted audio feed and less like an eldritch horror aping humanity.

“What? No!” I shouted, then froze. Something about being in the presence of an existential threat seemed to bring out that reaction. It did not strike me down for my refusal, however.

“This is more difficult than it looks,” it said, whether to me or to itself I wasn’t sure.

A moment passed, its smile had faded. I wasn’t entirely certain how it had smiled at all, considering the magical shell confining it was physically featureless.

“I have forgotten introductions,” it said, “I must appear very untrustworthy. We are strangers.”

Its voice had mellowed to a faintly inhuman hum, and had localized itself such that it seemed to be coming from the shell’s mouth area. Androgynous, like a young boy or a woman with a slightly deeper voice. The spirit’s attention seemed to go elsewhere, as a massive weight I had not even noticed was lifted from the area. When it returned a moment later, a game message popped up, identifying the boss for me.

[ ]

Well, sort of. I could tell that there was supposed to be some kind of identifier in the message, but it wasn’t anything I could wrap my mind around, and the game interface seemed to struggle to adjust it into something I could parse. I could almost feel its helplessness at the insurmountable task.

Perhaps spurred on by my lack of comprehension, the spirit’s attention was directed elsewhere again, returning shortly before the identifier changed again.

[𒀭𒊩𒌆𒆠𒃲 ]

This time bearing some kind of alien glyphs. The strange symbols swam and shifted, warping like the air during a heat wave. As I watched, they melted and reformed into English characters.

[ERESHKIGAL]

I got the faint sense that the spirit was… pleased with itself? Was this some sort of inside joke that I was missing? It seemed to pick up on my lack of recognition. It changed its label again.

[Lelwani]

On seeing that I still had no reaction beyond growing puzzlement, it changed it again.

[Hecate]

Ah, that one looked somewhat familiar.

“That’s a goddess of magic, right?” I said, trying to avoid causing any more offense than I probably already had. I was met with a wall of disappointment.

“You are no student of history. Or perhaps your kind have grown shortsighted in the years I have been absent.”

“You used to be-” I started.

“You have not introduced yourself,” it interrupted, “I could check what label you have in this prison’s central archive, but that may be rude.”

“Ah, right. I’m Will,” I said. There was something really weird going on here, but I was somewhat nervous about trying to exploit it. Things in games tended not to be nearly so intimidating. It did apparently have some degree of access to the game’s central database though… that might be worth negotiating for.

“Will, diminutive form of William. I have no diminutive form. Is parity required?”

I wasn’t sure if it was asking itself, or me, but it seemed to be quite focused. It wouldn’t do to stray from the conversation it was laying out. Best to move things forward.

“No,” I said, “it’s fine to have some disparity there, especially when the people talking aren’t really equals, socially or in terms of other kinds of power. So I should call you Hecate?”

“No. It does not please me if you do not understand my reason for choosing. I will pick another.”

“So you aren’t some kind of god of magic?” I asked, growing increasingly uncertain of what exactly I stood to gain from this conversation, besides maybe the key to advance past the second barrier and maybe some clues about the game’s database. Might be best to navigate my way there and then try to get away unscathed, rather than risk trying anything too clever.

“No. I do not fully understand either magic or gods, as your kind imagine them. No, let me try something else.”

[The Abstract Painter]

“Ah, because you’re sort of an abstract being, and also a painter… and you paint abstract things?” I guessed. I hadn’t seen the painting it was working on, as it was facing away from me, but I felt like it was a solid guess given what I was talking to.

“Yes!” It said, voice crackling ominously. Its uncanny smile was on its false face once more. I felt its attention settle back onto me, a heavy mantle both physically and spiritually. “Now, give me your memory.”

Fuck. That certainly felt like something that would reach outside the game.

“I can’t really give up something like that,” I said tentatively, “It’s too valuable to me, I need my memory in my everyday life.”

“HA HA HA,” It said, its voice weirdly exaggerated and mechanical. “No, human Will, I now understand our misunderstanding. I was not precise. Let me try again: I wish to view your memory.”

That was… well, at least the consequences of doing that would probably remain confined to the game world. Would I get in trouble for sharing what amounted to a bunch of company secrets with an alien AI? Did it even matter? It’s not like I was being recorded at the moment anyway.

“What would you offer in exchange?” I asked. It was a big ask, maybe there would be a proportionate reward?

“Earth’s history.”

What?

“All of it? That sounds unlikely.” I clarified.

“No, you are correct. Communication using words is much harder than it appears. I offer my memory of Earth’s history, extending from the birth of your solar system, up to and partially including the year 1959. The clarity may vary wildly between different times and places based upon my interest.”

Well that was sure something. I’d bet that there were people out there that’d kill for such an offer. Not quite as tempting for me though. Besides which…

“That sounds like something that might be a bit too big for a human mind,” I said. I wasn’t sure if this thing just had no proper reckoning for the value of what it offered, or if it really, really wanted access to my memory. In either case, I was actually considering taking it up on its offer. Not this specific offer, but there had to be something worthwhile it could give me. What did I care if the aliens knew everything about me? They clearly had even better surveillance than the corporations already, or they did up until 1959 for some reason.

“Yes, you have some wisdom, for all your smallness,” it said, confusing me momentarily, “You have very few senses. Your soul may bear the burden, but your brain will not.”

“How does that work?” I asked.

“You humans are not like me, not like my lesser cousins. If your physical puppet is damaged, or your soul degrades too far, you die. Well, not you specifically.”

“Not me? What? Which part?” I asked. I was beyond confused at this point. Was this actually supposed to be exposition, or were we just waaaay off the rails?

“You, in particular, have some sort of loop from your soul back into your body. Reinforcement? Humans do not have any sort of complex interaction between body and soul. Are you not human?”

Its voice broke and sputtered, and sped up as it spoke. Excitement?

“I am human,” I replied. This thing could obviously see the game mechanics like I could. Maybe that was what it was describing. I could always log in again after being killed, after all. Was my soul, inside the game, a representation of my real body on the outside? That didn’t quite square with what it had said so far, it having apparent knowledge of humans and their supposed souls outside the game somehow, but this was also exactly the sort of thing I had wanted to avoid. I had skipped as much dialogue as possible in the town precisely because I was prone to get bogged down with story details, if I let myself. My job normally, and specifically my job here, was to break down the mechanics, not the lore and backstory.

“Your body, then. And I can pay in installments, to prevent fatal brain injury.”

“What?” I sputtered, “That’s even worse! Do you mean that you want to examine my body?”

“No, I want to take possession of it. You do not need this one. You can make more. You have this thing,” it said, shifting its spiritual presence. It was somehow pointing directly at the internal space I had come to associate with game functions, despite there being no physical presence to it at all.

The precision with which it pointed that metaphysical space out actually gave me a fuzzy glimpse of it, the first I had managed. I could only peek for a moment before my mystic senses lost focus, but I spotted two interesting things. First, the spirit was quite possibly correct. The login function looked pretty simple, and felt more like it was just creating something than maintaining and managing it. The second thing was that the whole mess of game functions was undergoing some kind of change. There were sections around the login function that were shifting and being adjusted by other functions.

“You mean you want this avatar? Like this body here in the tower? Not my actual body?” I clarified. It would be unforgivably dumb to make a deal with the devil that I didn’t fully understand. The deal, that is. Understanding this particular devil probably wasn’t in the cards. Unless… Nico? Any ideas?

[No. It is not like my kind. Or yours. The assistance I can offer is limited.]

I could feel the spirit’s scrutiny intensify, pulling my attention back to it. “This is not your main body? Are you certain that you are human?”

“Yes. I’m certain. I think I might be willing to give you an avatar,” I said, deciding that letting some sort of super boss run amok with my face was probably less likely to be a crime than giving it access to my memory, “but I’d need to be certain that I can make another one, like you say. If I can’t, then you’d need to give this one back.”

“Ah! Negotiation! Possible deception!” it babbled, sounding really disturbingly excited, “Do you know how many humans in your history have deceived their business partner? It is many! How can I be assured that you are not doing so?”

Its tone of glee was deeply at odds with its suspicious words. I watched as it continued to paint, as it had through our entire exchange. Was this entropy spirit… playing with dolls? Was that what I was offering it? That didn’t really explain why it wanted my memory, but I wasn’t sure I was properly equipped to understand an entity like this. I could play along, though.

“I can give you the avatar first, and you can help me with something very small. If I try to make another avatar, and somehow I can only use this one, you would have to return it. If that happens, you don’t need to pay me further. If there is no problem with making a new one, then once I return you can help me with something bigger.”

“A hint, and an interesting structure. You are good at this. I must plan my words more. Tell me the small and big things that you want from me.”

I paused for a moment to consider one final time whether interacting with this thing might be a terrible mistake. Probably not for me, but maybe for the rest of humanity. Particularly if this was a rogue element within the game, instead of a normal part of it. Well, if not me, someone else would come along to enjoy the benefits.

Besides, it had been watching us from the literal dawn of humanity, if it was telling the truth. How much worse could I really make things if it meant us harm?

Resolved to take this course of action, I spoke. “The first thing I need is a key, one that you should have in your possession already if you were intended to be on the floor I originally entered. It should be something that marks the person that uses it, and also probably is filled with useful energy. If you were not meant for this floor, you may still have such a thing, and I still want it, but I also need to know what floor you are supposed to be on.”

The spirit stilled, and its shell with it. Seconds passed, then it resumed its painting.

“I have such a thing, and I was placed on this floor, though not normally in this tower,” it said, “What is the second?”

“I… think that will be fine. The second thing is a different sort of key, one that lets humans come here. They may be small points of light, and they may have some connection to the big pink crystals every ten floors. I was hoping you would be able to look through the prison's archive, if you weren't already aware of such a thing. I need as many as possible, or at the very least some clues as to where I might find them.”

“I have not seen such a thing, but I can agree to seek it. If you comply.”

I could feel the spirit practically vibrating with excitement. The shell it was wearing was failing to contain it entirely, with finger-sized crystalline shards of emptiness bursting into being all around us, before gradually evaporating. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign… or a very not good sign.

“I will need to deliver the first key to my friends, then I can let you have this avatar. Are you able to watch outside this floor?”

“More humans?” It gushed, then reeled itself in. “I am limited in how far I can reach. If I push too hard, the entire prison will break.”

Definitely a rogue element, or meant to look like one.

“Just outside this floor, there is a pile of random things. That is where I will meet them and use the first key. Can you reach that far without issue?”

“Yes,” it said at once. As it grew more excited for the deal, I grew more wary. I could feel the twisting anxiety rise as I second guessed myself. Wasn’t there an old saying, ‘fortune favors the bold’? Yeah, that’s what this was. Bold. Not insane. Definitely not insane.

Then reality shifted. Suddenly, there was a collection of random enchanted objects comparable to the previous boss floor, though it was neatly laid out on the lawn next to the pond, clearly sorted, though at first glance I couldn’t pick out the metric used.

The shell ceased painting, and moved. Space shifted to accommodate it, and it arrived standing over a small brass lighter in the blink of an eye. The transition was so smooth, I couldn’t tell if it was some sort of power, or if space just really didn’t want to be in this thing’s way.

The spirit reached down, plucked the lighter from the neat array of objects, and then it was in my hand. I blinked. I was maybe pushing my luck, but was starting to get the measure of this thing. Or at least what it was showing to me. It wasn’t trying to impress or intimidate me. It really didn’t need to try to do that. No, it seemed to me that what it was trying to do was to play at humanity. If I could endear myself to it by helping, well, that had to be worth something, right?

“Normally, you hand objects to people,” I said.

I could feel a surge of some sort of alien emotion, the shell standing stark still, and I had just long enough to wonder if I had fucked up before it spoke.

“I see. Is it permitted to try again?”

“Yes,” I said, stepping toward the shell and extending a hand with the lighter in it, “there isn’t any harm in it, when the action doesn’t have some permanent consequence.”

“All actions have permanent consequences,” it said, ominously. I guess that was technically correct.

Still, it very deliberately reached for the lighter in my hand, grasped it, and pulled it back towards its body. Then it transferred the lighter to its other hand and held it out to me, making a nearly perfect mirror of what I had done. I reached out, took the lighter from it, and dropped it into my inventory. It spoke again.

“Go to your friends. Activate your key. The deal is done.”