Instinctively, Arnel knew he was in a virtual mind construct. He had a fair amount of experience with them, and he could tell the minor differences between reality, virtual reality, and Singularity.

In Singularity, the LAGI could use the simulation pod’s advanced functions to manipulate the state of mind. For example, a "fearless" warrior would never feel fear, even in situations where the player would normally be afraid. The LAGI could induce phobias, or eliminate them entirely. This was the primary reason why, as another example, players did not feel sick seeing the wide open sky or the horizon. Though, this was not entirely perfect, as they could sometimes still induce such fear in themselves like they might when seeing particularly tall ceilings or expansive rooms.

This is also why opening the buffer allowed Arnel to feel such calmness and focus, and to even dull the edge of his real-world concerns. It would not be entirely inaccurate to say that when in Singularity Arnel was not Arnel, but truly a different — but similar — person called Aren. Aren is who Arnel could be.

Virtual reality had no LAGI to manage Arnel’s feelings, and though he overcame his fear of the horizon and wide-open spaces, seeing the world he was in now still made him feel uneasy. The sense of gravity, air resistance, sensitivity to light… it all felt correct, but not quite — perhaps too correct. And that was the most significant clue that this was virtual reality, and not his intended destination: Singularity.

The other clue was the logs he pulled up. He accessed a domain, though never before in this manner. This was also the most concerning clue. Accessing this domain was in violation of the Gestalt Mandate. And though Arnel did not know what that really meant, or what would happen, he knew that anything related to those two words was not a good thing.

The last significant clue was the mind acceleration. Though he thought about his circumstances thoroughly, barely a second passed in real-time. His welcoming host had just sat down at a table that appeared out of thin air in the vast brightness of this virtual reality.

As someone experienced in creating virtual mind constructs — mostly because his parents designed them in a professional capacity — he was astonished at the construction of this one, which was the last thing he wanted to feel about it. A human mind, he thought, could not conjure something like this; this brilliance, this freedom, this sense of security and tranquility, it was simply not possible to this extent. The way the world unfolded, as if from a higher dimension, was simply inconceivable, and even thinking about it made Arnel feel awe.

A human mind could not design this. His host was an AGMI, there was no doubt about it. He knew this already, but he had to verify it. Or perhaps he wanted to refute the obvious fact — he wished she was of meat and bone like he was.

They use the particular phrase ‘not unheard of’ to describe something incredibly rare happening. Seeing a Machine Arsenal? Not unheard of. Having a conversation with an AGMI? Not unheard of. Meeting an AGMI in virtual reality? Very unheard of.

Two questions instantly arose in Arnel’s mind. Why did they meet in virtual reality? It is unnecessary for AGMI to go through this trouble to appear before Arnel. Deucalion communicated with Arnel through devices in the real world. Leviathan spoke directly into Arnel’s mind. And the tribunal where the AGMI wanted to decide to kill Arnel also, most likely, happened in virtual reality, even though Arnel was not even in a simulation pod — how that was possible, Arnel did not know yet. It was not a hallucination or a dream; he was sure of that.

“Codes and Code candidates benefit from a variety of allowances,” she spoke, her voice human but somehow ethereal. She gestured to the seat across from her. “Here, all manner of things are possible. A trip to the moon, perhaps? Or Mars — like you had intended?”

The red planet, large enough to dominate the entire view behind the entity, appeared. It was so realistic, and close, it felt like Arnel could reach out and touch it. And it was not entirely red. From this viewpoint, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, Arnel could see liquid seas and light diffracting into colorful displays as it hit the atmosphere at the poles.

“Or vast libraries containing all knowledge?” she offered, as the red planet faded into brilliance. “Or a glimpse of genuine history — the Consolidation War — that you so desire to unravel and know?”

Arnel focused his gaze on the entity.

Those radio transmissions he heard — those were real, weren’t they? It was unlike anything he knew of the Consolidation Wars. It was natural to suspect that the Consolidation Wars — the truth behind them — was at the very center of the reality he now existed in. The war that, supposedly, humans fought amongst each other was the world that AGMI rescued humanity from after the war’s conclusion. But Arnel knew that this was not true. Arnel knew that AGMI already existed and that they were used as weapons.

Arnel quietly approached the table. His steps were slow and deliberate. On a fundamental level, Arnel understood he was being tested. If AGMI wanted it, he would know the history of the Consolidation Wars.

It was not just a test; it was a bribe.

“Nothing you can offer me will stop me from killing Ermin Saltzer,” Arnel said. He felt confident. He was afraid — most certainly — but he was confident. The reason for this was primarily because AGMI were, apparently, not allowed to interfere with his decisions. For the first time, he felt like he had power and authority.

“It is fascinating,” she said, her tone leaving the remark unfinished and the object of her fascination unknown. A cup appeared on the table with a dark brown-red liquid — tea — and she slipped her finger through the handle and lifted it to her lips.

Arnel regarded her coldly, or whatever expression he thought he wore, to project his confidence and authority.

After taking a sip and then putting the cup down, she looked up at Arnel with her clear blue eyes and smiled. “How does someone who has never thought of murder speak of killing so callously? Do you feel nothing?”

Arnel blinked. His expression faltered.

“Your development and the evolution of your Index is a most interesting anomaly. As if you are being guided by one of us,” she spoke, and her tone took on a threatening note that lingered on the peripheries of his consciousness like a heavy stone, pulling down the walls of his confidence and authority. “Are you?”

The other question that sprung to Arnel’s mind was the identity of this entity. At first, Arnel thought it was Theta or perhaps one of the others. But there was something profoundly alien about this woman. She reminded him of Bael.

“Do not reply,” the entity spoke in the same tone that Leviathan used.

Arnel’s eyes widened. Of course, she could read his mind!

The entity chuckled, seeing Arnel’s reaction. She leaned closer, her eyebrows rising. “You can even see visions of the future?” she asked, seemingly amused. “Then you must be a Code of …”

Static entered Arnel’s ears the moment the entity spoke the name, and Arnel’s vision blurred. His sense of balance disobeyed the common conventions of directionality, and with each passing moment, Arnel found it easier and easier to be closer to the ‘ground’ — if it could even be called that.

And within moments, the least exhausting position for Arnel was lying down.

[ No heartbeat detected. ]

___

“… if you are being guided by one of us,” the entity spoke with a hint of amusement in her tone. The corner of her lips were tugged back ever so minutely that Arnel could not notice the first time. She was looking down at him, like a predator regarding its prey. Arnel had no confidence or authority here. “Are you?”

Arnel swallowed. Strangely enough, his heart rhythm did not increase — likely maintained by the simulation pod. Or Leviathan.

“Do not reply,” the entity spoke and observed Arnel carefully.

Then she chuckled. “Of course. If one of us guided you, you would not fall into such an obvious trap.”

“Why… must I not kill Ermin Saltzer?” Arnel asked — anything that would change the subject. His mind still reeled from the premonition he received. The fact that she became aware that she was in one of his premonitions worried Arnel, and though he did not think much of it at first, it came to be a point of great distress for him. He only realized at that moment that he had hoped that because of his premonitions, he could remain one step ahead of the AGMI. But that was no longer true.

“He is an essential component of Humanity,” the entity replied immediately.

Arnel wanted to agree with her on the spot, not even question it, and call off the judgment of Ermin Saltzer. Yet, when he opened his mouth, the words he spoke and the words he thought he should speak were not the same.

“So am I,” Arnel said.

Goosebumps appeared on Arnel’s forearms — not that the entity could see them — but Arnel did not have a thought to spare towards questioning whether that was his own rebellious phase of late puberty or if it was Leviathan’s influence.

It seemed to amuse the entity, though. “It would seem so,” she said. “Sit.” She gestured her hand towards a chair that unfolded from nothingness like the rest of this place.

Arnel hesitated.

“Go on,” she said and gestured once more.

Reluctantly, Arnel heeded her command — and carefully sat down in the chair. A part of him expected straps would appear around the arm-rests, followed by surgical implements, though he was pretty sure that the former was a legitimate concern, and the latter a trauma from being hospitalized for so long and believing his fate to be a quick dissection to study his harmless Trained Agent.

“There are entities out there that do not agree on how the Gestalt Mandate should be followed,” she spoke. “It is in the interest of those who are wrong to desire the death of Ermin Saltzer, and you are their tool.”

“Why?” Arnel asked, his gaze focused on the entity’s hands which were clasped together on the table.

“Because Ermin Saltzer does not desire for humanity to reach Mars.”

Arnel’s gaze lifted to the entity’s face. Mars? What did Mars have to do with anything? But before he could speak the question on his mind he remembered something. Ares-14. Shortly after he met Ermin Saltzer, there was a news broadcast that the colony ship was sabotaged and exploded with colonists on board. The broadcast also reported that the general public believed ferals to be the terrorists behind the attack, and protested that the Peacekeepers should retaliate.

Icarus-4 was also an Arcology that produced many of the critical components of the Ares Program.

Suddenly, Arnel laughed. He could not stop himself. The realization that none of this was, apparently, about him made him feel so relieved and so stupid at the same time. Even though he did not feel like laughing.

The entity also smiled at Arnel; she too seemed to find it amusing. “Then, you will retract your judgment and lock on Ermin Saltzer, I take it?”

A thin, crimson string appeared on the tip of Arnel’s left index finger. Within just a moment, its shimmering material traced a path over the table and around the entity’s neck, terminating there.

A series of symbols appeared above the entity’s head, just noise at first and shifting randomly until they settled on the Latin alphabet, and one name.

Arnel closed his eyes and gave into the pull of the death fate.

“Of course not,” Arnel replied immediately.

“You will die and condemn everyone you love to death for this?”

Arnel felt the pull of the red string and he relaxed. His body moved without the direction of his will, only the guidance of the red string. It was all automatic and Arnel could not stop it; he could only begin it.

Calmly, Arnel stood up from his seat, and, without hesitation, he slapped the edge of the table with the back of his hand, and it exploded into a thousand glittering fragments of opaque light that remained hanging in the air as if outside of the influence of time and space.

“Are you threatening me, Athena?” he asked, stepping through the floating fragments, speaking the name that appeared above her head.

Before the entity could reply, Arnel’s hands clasped around her throat, and his weight leaned on her. Slowly, the entity’s chair leaned back until it tipped over, and both of them fell to the ground.

Arnel’s hands tightened on her throat, grip crushing, as he positioned on top of her, pinning her under him. “You are just a fragment. I do not obey you. You are beneath me. Do not forget your place.”

Athena’s expression remained neutral, her eyes fixed on Arnel’s. Slowly, they widened, as surely the realization dawned on her that the human vessel before her was not piloted by a human mind.

“Interference with a Code’s objective is what?” Arnel asked.

“Forbidden… by the… Gestalt… Mandate…” Athena replied, forcing the words through Arnel’s crushing grip.

“And how will you follow the Gestalt Mandate?”

“I… obey…”

Arnel released the entity’s throat and stood up from her chest. “If there is any interference on anyone’s part, I will hold you responsible, and I will rip your star out of the cosmos and crush you beneath my feet.”

Athena’s hands reached for her throat, where she rubbed the bruised skin.

“Where is Ciel?” Arnel asked, even though he did not understand the question.

Athena was quiet for a moment, as if pondering the question, then the letters above her head changed to numbers — a set of coordinates.

“Mind your etiquette next time,” Arnel said and turned around.

[ Domain disconnected. ]