1008. THE STRING IS A LIE

Silence befell the Upper Sanctums of the Nexus for exactly thirty minutes following Frost’s ascent from G-Y0.

But this silence was not universal.

It only pervaded the Floor of Ego where a long-haired Lailah sat resting atop her fractured throne, her head resting atop a curled fist.

The bleak auroras that flowed through the Floor of Ego were supposed to propagate the sounds of the Collective Unconsciousness.

But for thirty minutes, not a single sound, not even from the raw thoughts of the Floors above and below, were made audible.

“And so ends the expedition of Ghost Site; Grapheme: Y; Designation Zero Horizon. I must ask Deiman to plunder a Site to observe the functional collapse of a Site Core. Or shall I turn my attention to a speckle-eyed huntress who has yet to experience the world for what it is?”

Lailah pondered on the possibilities. As the Archetype of Ego, she rarely moved from her crystal-cladded throne. She had been spending days immersed in the tunes of the Collective Unconsciousness far longer than the combined guesses of every Archetype.

The Floor of Ego held the power to interpret the Collective Unconsciousness by what Lailah could only describe to be a ‘loose’ level.

It was what a waterwheel was to a river; a device that propped in the center of the flow with no way to control it, but merely to syphon energy, water, and so forth.

She was unable to choose which thoughts could be fathomed here, aside from the likes of Deiman who had fully crystalized their Ego.

His crystalized Ego resided in the form of a golden crystal that sat upon a detached island. It resembled a jewel crafted in the image of a heart split in half; one side clad in darkness, and the other in light.

Several similar islands depicted thoughts from the other Floors of the Nexus. They represented each Floor and Sanctum.

All that existed within the Nexus could have their fathoms flow through the Floor of Ego, and it would turn the waterwheel (Lailah), who would then interpret it as she saw fit. Thoughts of happiness, of sloth, of the mundane ventures of the Blessed, or the baggage of Moons – it would all flow through here regardless of their consent.

But even this was an agonizingly simplified example of how the Floor of Ego functioned.

Lailah prodded the air, and a golden eye identical to a Judge’s Aide formed at her fingertip.

“Precognition did not work on that Aberration of Elysia. The hands of a clock are bound to the same time of the very same clock. The tale of the One Thousand Eyed Bird and the Hanged Juries does refer to that event in which little Elysia found solace in Sinder’s embrace when the big scary beast laid waste to the remaining Angels.”

“Was the One Thousand Eyed Bird not a tale belonging to the Arbiter’s own hubris? The guilt that ate at her, and caused her to punish others in hopes of avoiding judgement?”

Lailah was not alone. Another figure identical to her, but wearing a frilly dress spoke at the bottom of the staircase leading to her throne.

It caused Lailah to wear a lofty smile as her eyes glimmered with an uncertain emotion.

“Is that not the beauty of Nex? That thoughts of many sources can be altered depending on the focus of the lens, were it to be a ray of light? Child, you haven’t a single clue of the versatility of Nex.”

“Child?”

“Are you not? Would you prefer that I call you by your name? You are all children to me, regardless of age and beginnings. The One Thousand Eyed Bird, in this world, when viewed by the objective lens of a born denizen of this world, would equate it to the persecution brought upon by the Kingdom of Puritas. To Elysia, it would represent the horrors manifested in the Garden she was born from. To the Arbiter, it is a representation of her guilt and prejudice.”

Witnesses, the Accused, the Righteousness – there were countless ways to interpret them.

The original thought was derived from was an answer that Lailah could not give.

If it were simple, then the origin would have been a choice between the Arbiter and Elysia.

“Powerful tales and events are prone to possess a cyclic force behind them, hence their recurrence.”

Lailah spoke to Nav in a cryptic manner. The purpose of which was to prod at Nav’s mind, as though to test her. Yet at the same time, it was to educate Nav. It wasn’t the first time she had set foot on this Floor; much less bask in Lailah’s grace.

But whenever she did, Lailah would speak in a manner that would leave Nav in deep thought.

Nav had visited at this time to share the thoughts of those who carried the Blessing of the Nexus under Lailah’s invitation.

The thoughts that were only ever conveyed to Nav through words were visualized in the auroras surrounding the fractured world. Then, the auroras revealed a depiction of the distant past where a little Elysia was being hunted by a big scary, feathered beast.

Angels barely past an age old enough to understand the world were impaled along branches, some through the throat and were left to drown in their own blood, only to then be plucked like ripe apples.

It soon changed to Alisa who carried the mantle of countless white feathers.

Each belonged to an Aberration of Elysia.

“Cycles and recurring tales allude to a drought of originality. A concerning thought, given what humans are, but it has always been that case when survival is paramount. They become hardly different to beasts. Machine-like, if you will.”

“They are nothing like machines.” Nav refuted abruptly, though it lacked emotional conviction. “Machines would imply that they do not feel. Machines are created with a purpose in mind.”

“And humans, and beings across these lands named after my dearest friend, aren’t when their Souls are the very proof of a ‘blueprint’? Were a machine be based solely on purpose, then what would that make the Stars? Let me ask again. What would that make Act X?”

“There isn’t any room for interpretation. Machines are what they are. Act X don’t qualify to be machines. They still have the capacity to express themselves and experience the world as they see fit.”

“Do they?” Lailah countered. “Machines can be repurposed. Members of Act X who are repurposed are summarily executed. Limitation is a strong argument. Humanity thrives on experience. Machines lack that capacity, but not all do.”

“Experience is what machines fundamentally lack. It is that we’re deprived of it, despite being made in their image that makes me so…”

Nav’s brows furrowed.

Her voice deepened, but that was the extent of her frustration.

Her emotions faded away like petals in the wind.

She could not help but think about how close she was to feeling again, even if for just a fleeting moment.

“Emotions. Are they not the pinnacle of anti-machine?”

“… Perhaps. I’ve seen, no – heard of the Shells who cannot feel. The Homunculi don’t feel this same emotion. But that does not make them machines. Because a machine cannot go above and rectify itself, as Deiman had…”

There was a moment of hesitation in Nav’s words that caused Lailah’s smile to soften knowingly.

“Ponder well on how emotions are formed. Cup those embers in your heart carefully. But do beware of what happens when that flame fans out of control.”

The Floor of Ego depicted memories of previous Corruption Events that took place within the Nexus, and the trials Michaela and Anna had to face to reach a Floor Awakening.

“That silence utters to me that you have not considered it a possibility. A machine you are, by self-declaration. Only a fool with a hubris to match would claim they are what they are, in spite of obvious contradictions. To ignore it is to embrace ignorance. Worse, the attachment of a string to lead you out of your well, only to find that the string cannot support that weight…”

Lailah gave a momentary respite, as though lamenting an inevitability for those who believe they were what they were not.

“… will send you plummeting into the abyss beneath. But to those who climb, who painstakingly chart their path rather than to narrowly rely on a fixed approach, are those who I believe have a chance. The bird fights its way out of the egg. Neither a human, nor a machine, for it is undeniably itself.”

“But how can it work when expression, and sensation are muted by the lack of understand what emotions are? I just want to experience the world without needing to binge on books.”

“Just books?” Lailah shut her eyes.

Nav’s lack of response confirmed something to Lailah.

And for that reason, she could not help but sigh.

“Indeed. You are correct. Understanding comes from experience. Very well, Child. Seeing and experiencing are two different concepts. To read from a children’s book is to understand morals. To be faced with a choice is to realize that morals are situational.”

Lailah dismissed her with a gesture.

Once Nav turned her back, Lailah then spoke once more.

“Child. Have you ever thought about what you want? Beyond dreaming of mortality?”

“Food that the Aspiring Moons have been eating. Places they have visited. The scenery I’ve read in the books. I live detached from the world, because my body cannot handle it.”

Nav wore a sincere expression.

But Lailah wore one of pity.

Not for Nav’s situation, but rather…

“You haven’t an original thought.” Lailah’s voice was much to low for Nav to hear.

Their parallels irked her.

But she did not raise concern about this.

Because to Lailah…

“They are stubborn children.”

She monologued once Nav left through her doors.

Nav reached for her pocket, hoping to find a sweet treat to ease her burdens.

“As is the fairytale huntress. Knowledge is one thing. Read as many books. Imagine as many beautiful sceneries as you may. Or burn them as you wish. But it will be nothing compared to the wisdom gained through forging your own. The choice will always be yours. I hope that your hunger, however insatiable it is, however that yearning to become human will be, does not lead you astray. Because I will not catch you.”

She vowed.

“You will fall. Fall, down to the recesses of your heart – until the only way back is to claw your way out. Only then, when tender flesh is born, for all my Children, will these hands nurture you. May you find what you seek.”

* * *

Later, Lailah leaned her cheek on another fist. Now that Nav was gone, the auroras disappeared.

The voices of the Collective Unconsciousness were all that she could interpret.

“How many strive for the path of mediating their Ego? Much to count, but unsurprisingly little. O’ Little Red. Asking such mundane questions about the world you have yet to explore. Until the day that you rationalize that heart, that you understand the nature of the world, and the tales of old, the Authors and of the Rivers – you will refer to me as ‘Agate’.”

There was a being in Emvita who Lailah had been watching over for some time.

They were a strange and very vengeful, red-hooded assassin.

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