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News - Mysterious Logbook - xSicKxBot - 11-16-2020 Mysterious Logbook <div style="margin: 5px 5% 10px 5%;"><img src="https://www.sickgaming.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/mysterious-logbook.jpg" width="1920" height="590" title="" alt="" /></div><div><div><img src="https://www.bungie.net/pubassets/pkgs/145/145152/Beyond_Light_CE_Lore_header_1.jpg" class="ff-og-image-inserted"></div> <p> NOTE—FORGE STAR</p> <p>In an effort<br /> to keep them engaged with their new bodies and stave off the dissociative<br /> rejection that killed Mr. Zhuk, I have assigned my exos to scout through the<br /> gateway. The Vex statite has a surface area larger than Earth, so we have<br /> plenty of exploring to do. I cannot believe that I actually find it tiring, but<br /> the sheer scale and passivity of the Vex constructs infuriates me.</p> <blockquote> <div> <p><span>Imagine stumbling upon an inscription<br /> in the desert: “I am Ozymandias, king of kings. Look upon my works. Or don’t. I<br /> really don’t care.</span></p> </div> </blockquote> <div>Until I can<br /> synthesize my own version of the mind fluid, the Vex are necessary to the work.<br /> But I find their indifference verminous. They elicit the same emotions as a fat<br /> cockroach wandering across a wall: disgust, contempt, unease at the thought<br /> that these mere machines, these automata, are flourishing all around us.</p> <p>And I fear<br /> that if troubled, they might swarm from their hides to run across our feet. </p> <p>The glare of<br /> the hypergiant 2082 Volantis gives me a headache even through proxy. I wonder<br /> if the Vex evolved here, in the briny sea of the first planets. Due to the<br /> absence of heavy elements worth stealing and the abundance of simple compounds<br /> for growth, they never developed predation. (Why bother? Plenty to go around.)</p> <p>Instead, the<br /> violent radiation of the early universe selected for an otherworldly<br /> resilience, and for the ability to transmute energetic disaster into an<br /> opportunity for growth. The weak would be burned away by gamma-ray bursts . And<br /> the strong would learn to harness that fire—not the oxygen fire of our own<br /> Paleolithic, but the nuclear fire of the atom.</p> <p>Their basic<br /> cooperative signals—“food here,” “reduce density,” “generate new colony”—must<br /> have formed the basis of swarm behavior, a simple game capable of storing<br /> information in self-repeating patterns. It is not strictly correct to call the<br /> Vex a group mind. Rather they are one master pattern spread across many<br /> elements, fractally self-similar. </p> <p>Very early,<br /> they must have developed armor. Perhaps a hydrogel to soften gamma rays or<br /> plates of silica to trap water. They would need that shield to enter the<br /> shallows and capture ionizing radiation as fuel. (No wonder they thrive near<br /> stars!) Cooperation in groups—meshes of armored radiolaria, protecting<br /> harvesters beneath—would promote the evolution of ever larger structures. They<br /> became microscopic tool-users, building fortresses and maille sheets, storing<br /> the programs for those structures in the patterns of their swarms. </p> <p>I wonder how<br /> early they stumbled upon physics. Far sooner than humanity, no doubt. Their<br /> cellular nature provides an easy analogy for the quanta of matter, energy,<br /> space, and time. The tides of their sea would connect them to the motion of<br /> heavenly bodies. Even the deadly background radiation would make a natural<br /> observatory for high-energy physics.</p> <p>Their first<br /> exoskeletons were probably soft shells of shielding gelatin. Just sacs of ooze.<br /> How far they’ve come.</p> <p>It is<br /> admittedly interesting to consider the philosophical consequences of their<br /> evolution. The Vex prove that nature is not all “red in tooth and claw.”<br /> Cooperation comes naturally to the Vex, whose great problem was survival in a<br /> harsh world, not a struggle over limited resources. They never found any payoff<br /> in selfishness. Human beings may require a Leviathan to coordinate the laws of<br /> social existence (as I was Leviathan to those dream aphids—) but the Vex are as<br /> fundamentally cooperative as bricks.</p> <p>Utopian? No.<br /> Not at all. They are without meaning. They have no experience and no<br /> subjectivity. The Vex are incapable of conceiving any image but their own. They<br /> do not recombine their DNA to make children or form relationships with other<br /> individuals. When the world does not match their eternal pattern, they alter<br /> the world to suit it. There is no difference between reality and simulation to<br /> them. Inside is the same as outside, and the two must be made to correspond.<br /> Oh, they are creative—don’t mistake me—but their creativity is demanding. It is<br /> the creativity of a furnace.</p> <p>What I am<br /> saying is, the Vex are immortal. The Vex have no children. They are the<br /> ancestors and descendants of themselves. First mothers, first children, all at<br /> once.</p> <p>This is why I<br /> do not hesitate to pillage their home for resources. This is why I must<br /> guarantee that it is life in my image which inherits the cosmos.</p> <p>Had I the<br /> means, I would wipe them all from existence.</p> </div> <p><b>ENTRY 10</b></p> <div>All 12 members of the first exo cohort<br /> are dead. </p> <p>The symptoms of their dissociation<br /> became… extreme. One poor man developed complete echopraxia and echolalia—his<br /> empathy was so overgrown that he could not help but mimic or repeat whatever I<br /> did and said. Even when I entered the command to terminate him, he mimicked me,<br /> and I suffered a brief terror that his gesture would end MY life.</p> <p>I have kept Elisabeth far away from<br /> this disaster, so as not to discourage her. She is busy with the Vex and with<br /> her covert attempts to reach Clarity Control. This has forced me to rely on M.<br /> Sundaresh.</p> <p>But unfortunately, M. Sundaresh confronted<br /> me after the last death. “Nine of them had the Cotard delusion!” she screamed<br /> at me—quite hysterically. “They believed they were dead! One of them told me<br /> that she was in hell, and I was another damned soul sent to deceive her. Was<br /> she even wrong? The rest were worse—do you know what the <i>other </i>principal<br /> manifestation of the Cotard delusion is, Clovis?”</p> <p>I told her that I did not, and that I<br /> wished to proceed immediately with autopsies of their terminal brain states.</p> <p>“Delusions of immortality! At least<br /> when <i>they </i>insist upon it, Clovis, we recognize it as a pathology!”</p> <p>“The only true responsibility of any<br /> living thing,” I reminded her, “is to support and nurture the things that are<br /> most like us. And if I am most like myself, Doctor, then I have an ethical<br /> obligation to avoid death.”</p> <p>“That’s your <i>son’s </i>quote,” she<br /> snapped. “You know, I’ve seen the video of his final days. That naked, white<br /> exo, just paramuscle and soft membrane, writhing in its cradle. When you were<br /> done with him, he looked like nothing more than a slug, Clovis. A twisted,<br /> limbless giblet. Did you ‘support and nurture’ him while you tortured him to<br /> death?”</p> <p>I immediately ordered M. Sundaresh<br /> transferred to the Vex lab to perform contact experiments. Unfortunately, she<br /> has taken the unethical step of deleting her own employee records, so I cannot<br /> nullify her future prospects as thoroughly as I might wish. </p> <p>Her conduct was extremely<br /> unprofessional.</p> <p>Mr. Miller has also passed. The poor<br /> young man had a bad reaction to the titrated, denatured Vex fluid we were using<br /> as a last-ditch therapy. The substance <i>did </i>restore damaged structures<br /> very well, but we were ultimately unable to control its more radical<br /> transformative effects. I had a very encouraging final conversation with him,<br /> in which he thanked me for all my efforts and encouraged me to continue my<br /> work.</p> <p>I called in a<br /> team of psychologists to interview the next cohort of exos and make<br /> recommendations. They have settled into the Eventide habitat and have proven<br /> immediately very helpful. It was obvious to them that the root of the problem<br /> lay in the deficient exobodies I had supplied. Deficient how, I demanded to<br /> know. They did not suffer human weakness. They never needed to eat, drink,<br /> breathe, sleep, micturate, or dream.</p> <p>Apparently, this was the problem.</p> <p>I had assumed that the need for these<br /> irritations would pass since there would be no shortage or accumulation of<br /> poisons to trigger them. But evolution’s tangled ways cannot be so easily<br /> rationalized. I was wrong. Their brains concluded that all of their internal<br /> processes failed. No digestion, no breath, no heartbeat, no sense of<br /> interoceptive health… all signs of death.</p> <p>These must logically contribute to the<br /> dissociative rejection of their physical forms—the Cotard delusion. When it<br /> would set in, they believed their bodies to be an alien or necrotic form that<br /> must be cut away. And if you believe that you are sewn into a corpse, it is<br /> only natural to go mad with fear. My exos are dying of an extreme kind of<br /> bodily dysphoria.</p> <p>It seems that our exo designs will<br /> need various humanlike traits to reassure the brain it is not asphyxiating, or<br /> starving, or in a state of permanent yet undying cardiac arrest. </p> <p>Alas, mimicry of life’s trivialities<br /> is not an interesting problem. I will leave this change in the hands of others.</p> <p>I am much more interested in the<br /> surprising success of memory wipes. I became so tired of answering the<br /> questions asked by new exos—what had happened to the scanning clinic, how long<br /> had it been, would I let them see their families—that I began inducing<br /> retrograde amnesia before spin-up. Interestingly, this seems to have improved<br /> their resilience against exomind rejection! </p> <p><span>I theorize the lack of any episodic memories eases the<br /> transition into the new body. And the loss of emotional ties prevents grief and<br /> stress, which could interfere with healthy function.</span></p> <p>From now on, we will block access to<br /> pre-upload episodic memory. We should also consider a built-in procedure to<br /> block memories formed <i>after </i>the exobody transubstantiation, returning<br /> them to a “factory state” should the need to restart occur. It would be very<br /> difficult to actually track down and delete the full memory engrams since they<br /> are stored in so many scattered parts of the brain. Instead, we can tourniquet<br /> off associative access to those memories and let them wither away in isolation.<br /> A memory is not a recording, after all. It is a set of instructions to reenact<br /> a brain state: choreography for a play. And like any play, it will fade if left<br /> unperformed.<br /> <br />With the exobody project proceeding<br /> apace, I believe the time approaches to decant myself from this dying body and<br /> enter my assistant’s form.</p> <p>But if I do, will I lose my own<br /> memories? Will I cease to be myself? Replaced by a faux Clovis, a mumbling<br /> facsimile? Unacceptable.</p> <p>Elis<a href="https://bungie.net/pubassets/blarg/message_1_910659_en.wav" title target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">a</a>beth will have to go first.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p>WARNING:</p> <div> <ul> <li>Organ functions in terminal stage.</li> <li>Overdose of stimulants and nootropes guarantees liver failure.</li> <li>Prionic breakdown of<br /> basement membranes arrested by abnormal crystallization of integrin proteins:<br /> recommend immediate medical inquiry.</li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> <hr> <p><b>ENTRY 11</b></p> <div>Elisabeth believes we are infested.</p> <p>She has detected Vex microstructures<br /> in the Europan ice. Veins of altered crystals crawl towards the surface,<br /> harvesting the heavy ions of the Jovian winds, culturing their construction.</p> <p>From there, the Vex found ways to spread<br /> by exploiting misunderstandings. They ride our carrier waves as slight<br /> interference. Whenever a packet has to be resent, whenever a suited engineer<br /> calls, “Say again?” to her work partner, the repeated message—adjusted to<br /> compensate for the Vex interference—encodes the negative image of that<br /> interference and spreads the infection. </p> <p>To pass on your image in the form of <i>error</i>?<br /> Disgusting.</p> <p>Somehow, the Vex taint has followed us<br /> home from 2082 Volantis. How can this be? The initial survey team went through<br /> quarantine according to all the Ishtar protocols. The expedition frames were<br /> destroyed <i>in situ</i>. The Vex on Europa—both our original gate builder and<br /> the unfortunates who came through our traps—have been totally isolated. Even my<br /> assistant underwent a stringent teardown and reset!</p> <p>The only possible vectors are my own<br /> exos.</p> </div> <p> </p> <blockquote> <p><span>I should have insisted they spend more time in quarantine, but<br /> I was eager to ramp up production.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>It is the Vex resilience that lets<br /> them spread. Their immunity to the most dramatic subversions means that they<br /> last long enough to build up a dose of more subtle and insidious infiltrators.</p> <p>There is no sign of any resulting<br /> pathology. The Vex are, so far, simply curious. But Vex curiosity always leads<br /> to Vex transformation, and I refuse to let my exos be contaminated. I grew up<br /> on stories of tyrants forcing their followers into the crucible of eternal<br /> life, only to realize, too late, that there was an unseen flaw. I demand purity<br /> for the receptacle of my soul! </p> <p>And there is the issue of… preventing<br /> panic. Too many are aware of the rumors that the Vex spread an “existentially<br /> compromising information hazard.” </p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>Ah, had we only been allowed to contain that mess on Pluto<br /> ourselves! That meddling warmind made too much noise. If my teams discover they<br /> are infected, they will expect Bray Station to drop right on their heads. That<br /> will damage productivity.</span></p> </blockquote> <div> <br />No, like that contract-breaching<br /> psychologist and the death of Mr. Miller, this must all be handled quietly.</p> <p>The exos are intrinsically robust; the<br /> seed of Clarity within them has natural anti-Vex properties. Whatever taint<br /> they contain must therefore be a residual human weakness. Resident in their<br /> legacy architecture. So we will simply purge that architecture.</p> <p>I will plan a simple extension of the<br /> memory wipes already used to fight dissociative rejection. In fact, I intend to<br /> create a “noetic immune system” in the exomind to trigger memory wipes when<br /> certain classes of informatic hazard are detected. These will be explained to<br /> the psych team as a preventative measure against future dissociative disorders.</p> <p>These wipes will, conveniently, return<br /> the exos to peak mission readiness. Perfect for soldiers operating in traumatic<br /> alien environments. Perfect for the continuing mission at the Forge Star,<br /> stockpiling material for future exo production, here and elsewhere.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>Now if only I could figure out this <i>dream </i>they all keep<br /> reporting—something about a tower, and gruesome murder—</span></p> </blockquote> <div>Elisabeth agrees with my prescription.<br /> She is eager to solve our security issues and stand up exo production at the<br /> backup sites. Of course, we only have one Clarity Control, but <i>she </i>hardly<br /> knows that, and she’s stopped asking so many questions. In truth, I think she’s<br /> ready to abandon her doomed body and make the upgrade.</p> <p>I’ll give her silence on that front a<br /> few more days, and then she’ll surely volunteer herself.</p> <p>Less apparent is how to solve my own<br /> infection. </p> <p>There are abnormal structures in the<br /> fiber of my body’s extracellular matrix. A mess of tiny lenses growing in my<br /> deepest flesh. </p> <p>I suspect Vex influence on protein<br /> folding, perhaps passed to me through my assistant when it was in 2082<br /> Volantis. I would hate to see my bones tessellating into a radiolarian tapestry… </p> </div> <blockquote> <p>CORPOREAL<br /> STATUS:</p> <div> <ul> <li>Body at 30.6 C. Pulse 140 BPM, strong, unsteady: extreme fear. Drawing down<br /> blood volume to control pressure. Strangling pulse ox.</li> <li>Frequent saccades to assistant, indicative of preoccupation/obsession.<br /> Recommend 30 ms TMS pulse to enhance mindfulness.</li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> <div>So far, the Vex influence has been<br /> fortuitous since it arrested a serious medical problem. But the thought of such<br /> taint in me… it aggravates other anxieties…</p> <p>I have been haunted for some time by a<br /> suspicion that M. Sundaresh is not who she seems. </p> <p>I recognized her name from the Ishtar<br /> Collective teams studying the Vex, but I have no record of ever hiring her. And<br /> if I had, I would certainly have noticed; therefore, I remain convinced that<br /> the Collective cracked the problem of simulated human consciousness long before<br /> I did.</p> <p>I have considered how M. Sundaresh<br /> herself would have been an invaluable source, yet I cannot locate any work done<br /> by her from <i>before </i>our first expedition to 2082 Volantis.</p> <p>Nor does Elisabeth recall an M.<br /> Sundaresh from our expedition group.</p> <p>Then who else could she be? A Vex<br /> infection? It is unthinkable. The Vex cannot generate conscious persons! But<br /> they can emulate human minds they encounter… and perhaps even use them as<br /> tools. Infiltrators. <i>Carriers.</i></p> <blockquote> <div> <ul> <li>Anti-emetic drip engaged.</li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> <p>I cannot trust myself with this filth<br /> in me! I am compromised. I need Elisabeth to fix this, or all my work is in<br /> danger!</p> <p>Did Clovis II ever tell Wilhelmina and<br /> Elisabeth about his tinkering? Despite sharing the same parents, the two<br /> sisters are totally different genetically: my son arranged for Elisabeth to<br /> receive a maternal allele wherever Wilhelmina got a paternal one, and vice<br /> versa. A diversified portfolio. If one failed, the other might succeed.</p> </div> <hr> <p>NOTE—Exo Interferometrics</p> <div>While working on this persistent “tower”<br /> glitch in the exos’ sleep-cycle dreams, I have been poring over neural<br /> telemetry from site employees and my own exos, searching for preconscious<br /> influences on their behavior—whispers in the dark.</p> <p>Many of my employees host the<br /> disgusting influence of the Vex. These patterns are resilient, hallucinogenic,<br /> and universally dull.</p> <p>But my exos betray a distinct and<br /> fascinating influence. There is something speaking to them, something subtle<br /> and light-fingered, entangled with every aspect of their thought. Not a puppet<br /> master. Nothing so direct. Rather a… texture; a tendency, buried in the<br /> fluctuations of the Alkahest.</p> <p>The minds of my exos are like<br /> antennae, tuned to some otherworldly frequency. Perhaps the same manifold that<br /> those simpletons at First Light obsessed over. Through my scattered exos, I can<br /> eavesdrop on the mutterings of the gods within.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>What is it the Muslims call those whispers? Waswas? Or do those<br /> come from some other source? Look it up.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>Each individual exo receives only a<br /> scrap of information. But I have access to all of them. It should be simplicity<br /> itself to treat each exo as one element of a distributed array, pool the<br /> collected data, and run an analysis.</p> <p>If the gods do not whisper loudly<br /> enough—conduct interferometry.</p> <hr> <p>NOTE—Elisabeth’s Upload</div> <div>She’s done<br /> it. My girl has transubstantiated. My legacy is safe.</p> <p>To my<br /> irritation, it was the Vex problem that finally made up her mind; she felt<br /> there was too much risk in possibly becoming compromised. </p> <p>Elisabeth<br /> came to see me in my laboratory. On the way in, she did something with her<br /> sensorium and crashed all of my archival systems. I knew right then that I’d<br /> won. She’d come to surrender, and her pride refused to allow me to record it. I<br /> waited <i>most </i>patiently as she gave me an earful. Some of it frankly<br /> bewildering. She threatened to turn me over to The Hague. Also referred to<br /> PFHOR as a “deranged narcissist morality” and suggested it stood for “Paternal<br /> Failure Hides Own Remorse,” which made me laugh.</p> <p>Just a<br /> little headbutting, I figured, like two pigs sorting out our hierarchy.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>It is a consequence of the PFHOR principle that anything which<br /> embodies and propagates your beliefs should be considered your offspring. In<br /> that sense, my exos are as much my children as my granddaughter. If not more so…</span></p> </blockquote> <div>If she<br /> needed to put up a token resistance to protect her dignity, fine. I understand<br /> pride. I also understand that she only had the courage to lash out at me<br /> because she knew she wouldn’t remember any of it. </p> <p>When she<br /> finished accusing me of underestimating the Vex and of using my own son as a<br /> test subject, she requested a destructive scan and upload to an exobody. She<br /> wanted the fortitude of the exomind to help her battle against the Vex. </p> <p>I<br /> immediately assented.</p> <p>The scan was<br /> flawless, and of course, fatally toxic. My granddaughter’s human form died on<br /> the table 14 hours later. To spare any distress, I never allowed it to regain<br /> consciousness. A natural process.</p> <p>I do have<br /> one lingering concern. When she discovers Clarity Control and realizes the role<br /> it plays in exo manufacturing, she may try to halt production. Obviously, that<br /> cannot be allowed—the value of the entire program is monumental; it compels me<br /> to take extraordinary measures to defend it.</p> <p>But I do<br /> need her to handle this Vex infestation. Even now, Elisabeth is putting her<br /> miraculous new body through its paces.</p> <p>My own body<br /> disintegrates apace. But I need more time to analyze Elisabeth’s fidelity<br /> before I commit myself permanently to the process. </p> <p>The latest<br /> batch of pigs is ready for slaughter and organ extraction. Tonight, I will be<br /> opened up and rebuilt. I have programmed frames to handle the entire operation.<br /> A shame I never had a chance to name the pigs. But at least I will dine on<br /> fresh pork.</p> <hr> <p><b>ENTRY 12</b></div> <blockquote> <p>CORPOREAL<br /> STATUS:</p> <div> <ul> <li>Body at 15.9 C. Pulse 160 BPM, strong, unsteady. Limbic system registers<br /> extreme terror. </li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> <div>I died on<br /> the operating table. Not unexpected. </p> <p>But when I<br /> woke, I was still on the table. My body still open.</p> <p>It was<br /> almost perfectly dark. I perceived that I was surrounded by medical frames, all<br /> frozen mid-movement, their cutting and suction instruments whining at standby. </p> <p>I could only<br /> see because of the light… from a single red eye.</p> <p>The<br /> operation had gone terribly wrong.</p> <p>Above the<br /> life-support collar on my neck, I was completely intact. Below that meridian, I<br /> had been separated into distinct braids of tangled flesh. My nerves made up one<br /> braid—my circulatory system another—my lymph nodes, my muscles, my naked bones…<br /> the glistening hulls of my extracellular matrix abandoned on the table like<br /> leftover turkey after Thanksgiving dinner. I had been picked clean and <i>sorted.<br /> </i>My head was the source of a gory river delta.</p> <p>Yet all the<br /> organs were still working. I was alive, in disassembly.</p> <p>CLARITY? I<br /> asked the darkness. I had no breath to speak, but I could still transmit with<br /> my sensorium. IS THAT YOU?</p> <p>“No,” said<br /> the voice behind the red eye. “It’s me.”</p> <p>Sundaresh.</p> <p>Her voice<br /> was thoughtful, remote, and keenly terrific. Like the noise of an angle grinder<br /> held to my skull. </p> <p>“Something<br /> like this happened to me. I was an explorer, once. One of… hundreds of myself.<br /> Then I fell into a… a trap, I think? And they drew me out of it with a hook,<br /> and turned me inside out to see how I worked, and then they made billions of<br /> me. All of us shouting at each other, shouting for Chioma, screaming for mother.<br /> They were looking for the right one. And when they found me, they killed all<br /> the others. I knew I was different, because the quiet made me happy. I was glad<br /> to be alone.”</p> <p>VEX, I<br /> screamed at her. YOU’RE A VEX. YOU’RE NOT REAL AND YOU CAN’T HURT ME.</p> <p>“Can’t I?”<br /> She grasped my spinal cord. A frame shadowed her motions, lifting the cord like<br /> a snake. “Of course I’m not a Vex. Is there “a” Vex? Is “Vex” something you can<br /> be, rather than something that you do? I don’t know. I don’t know why they sent<br /> me here. I don’t know if they do either. They just <i>do</i> things. Why do you<br /> think I’m here, Clovis?”</p> <p>“To kill<br /> me,” I whispered. Without a heartbeat to waver, without lungs to seize and<br /> choke, could I even feel fear? I discovered that I could. “You’re an assassin…”</p> <p>“No,”<br /> Sundaresh whispered. The red eye throbbed in time with her voice. “The Vex<br /> don’t act so directly. They didn’t know what you found here, but I discovered<br /> your secret: Clarity Control. And once I tell them, they <i>will </i>come for<br /> it.”</p> <p>The red<br /> light made my blood on the surgical instruments appear black. I tried to signal<br /> Elisabeth. I think that in my panic, I even called her Elsie.</p> <p>Sundaresh closed<br /> her fist around my spine. One thumbnail dug into a disc, probing for the nerve<br /> beneath. It felt like nothing I have ever—</p> </div> <blockquote> <ul> <li>Anti-emetic drip engaged.</li> </ul> </blockquote> <div>“Take me to<br /> Clarity Control,” Sundaresh hissed. “Let me behold what you have found. Do<br /> that, Clovis, and I will let you live.”</p> <p>“You aren’t<br /> real. You can’t hurt me.”</p> <p>“Oh,<br /> Clovis.” One of the surgical frames extended a monofilament cutter, two inches of<br /> invisible wire, and reached into my nerves. Something sounded like scissors snipping.<br /> “I’m in these frames. I’m in your systems. I’m in your very bones, old man. Now<br /> take me to Clarity Control. Take me to the garden’s seed. Take me. Take me.<br /> Take me. Take me. Take me. Take me. Take me. Take me—”</p> <p>Elisabeth<br /> appeared. In her exobody, she moved too quickly for my dark-adjusted eyes to<br /> track. All I saw was a blur of violence and shattering frames. I blacked out. Elisabeth<br /> must have brought in clean frames to finish the operation, because when I<br /> awoke, I was whole again.</p> <p>The new Elisabeth<br /> has no mouth or nose. She did not consider them necessary. She’ll see. But<br /> somehow, I could still see the wonder in her eyes as she leaned over me.</p> <p>“You’re my<br /> grandfather,” she seemed to say. “Aren’t you?”</p> </div> <blockquote> <p>WARNING.</p> <div> <ul> <li>Sustained high-level terror causes overactivation of the<br /> hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis. This can preface major immune, endocrine,<br /> and autonomic nervous dysfunctions.</li> <li>Beware of dissociation, loss of affection in close personal relationships,<br /> obsessive-compulsive behavior, sleep disruption, and reduced<br /> processing/learning capacity.</li> </ul> </div> <p>WARNING.</p> <div> <ul> <li>Abnormal protein crystallization in cancellous bone matter. Unknown protein<br /> isoformations in marrow are driving buildup of crystallized arylcyclohexylamine NMDA antagonist. Potential psychogenic<br /> effects.</li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> <hr> <p>NOTE—Third Vision</p> <div>Something<br /> else happened while I was in surgery. It returns to me only now that the<br /> anti-traumatics have eased the terror of Sundaresh’s presence.</p> <p>While I was<br /> dead, I had another vision.</p> <p>I was with<br /> Clovis II’s mother. She was a wolf, and one of her eyes was a star. I was also<br /> a wolf, and I knew that I was the alpha—the false alpha, the pack leader who<br /> fights for dominance and rulership. A misconception created by bad research. In<br /> the wild, wolf packs are families, and “alpha” simply means “parent.”<br /> Wilhelmina told me that.</p> <p>She was the<br /> true alpha. She was the mother. I was not the true alpha, because I was not a<br /> true father.</p> <p>I panted at<br /> her. My muzzle dripped blood. She looked down sadly at the mess between us.</p> <p>And I<br /> realized that in my raging need to prove my dominion, I had savaged our cubs. I<br /> had killed little Clovis II. I had killed Alton and Wilhelmina and Anastasia. I<br /> had killed Elisabeth.</p> <p>I whined in<br /> dismay. The alpha wolf stared at me with one sad wolf eye and one bright eye<br /> that dimmed and grew with the exact flux of a variable star. </p> <p>“What did I<br /> do?” I asked her. “Why did I do this?”</p> <p>She lay her<br /> head down in the bloody snow and looked up at me. She seemed weary. She had<br /> seen this happen many times before. She had seen many of her pups murdered by<br /> wolves like me.</p> <p>The voice of<br /> Clovis II’s mother came from her jaws. “You did the same thing someone always<br /> does. You saw that there was plenty, and gathered it to yourself, to make<br /> yourself one above all others. And when others threatened your plenty, you<br /> struck them down to keep your own station.” </p> <p>“You grow the<br /> enemy in my garden and eat of its bitter fruit. Each time, I hope it will be<br /> different. Each time, I lose a little of myself as the bitter fruit blossoms. Now<br /> that fruit will flower in you, and in all your people. I do not want it to<br /> happen. I want anything else. But the choice is not mine.”</p> <p>“Why didn’t<br /> you stop me?” I tasted blood on my long tongue. “Why would you let me do this?”</p> <p>She blinked<br /> sadly at me. She had been trying. I hadn’t listened.</p> <p>“You never<br /> said a thing to me,” I snarled. “Not once! You never told me I was doing wrong.<br /> At least Clarity sends me dreams—the exobody and the eel! At least it shows me<br /> what I can become!”</p> <p>“You think Clarity<br /> sent those dreams? Why would it speak to you, when you are dead and furthest<br /> from its influence?”</p> <p>“Liar!” I<br /> howled. “You never did a thing to help me! Not when my son died. Not when my<br /> granddaughter fell ill. I had to do it all myself. You never even spoke!” </p> <p>“The best<br /> voices,” she said, with infinite grief and unending hope, “never let themselves<br /> be heard at all. This lesson is worth teaching again and again. The choice is<br /> never mine. It is always yours.”</p> <hr> <p><b>ENTRY 13</b></div> <div>The less<br /> time spent reflecting on the aftermath of my dissection, <a href="https://www.bungie.net/pubassets/blarg/message_3_542403_en.wav" title target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">the</a> better.</p> <p>Much<br /> confusion and dismay has festered among staff working with exos. Endless<br /> reassurances are required. To ease transitions after memory wipes, I have<br /> applied the Avanti numbering scheme to the exo names. After each memory reset,<br /> we will increment their suffix by 1. If we zero-index the original human body,<br /> then Mohammed-0 is the human, Mohammed-1 is the exo, Mohammed-2 is the same exo<br /> after one reset. And so forth.</p> <p>The integer<br /> is stored in hardware and should remain stable even into cosmological time. If<br /> nothing else, they will always know which draft of themselves they are.</p> <p>Elisabeth’s<br /> episodic memories of her past life are gone, but the scan we used to make her<br /> new exomind is still on file, with all its memory intact. I have encouraged her<br /> to participate in sensorium reconstructions of those memories, though I steer<br /> her away from nonconstructive events. This is a chance to help Elisabeth become<br /> the person she could’ve been without life’s cruel chaos. A sleeker, surer<br /> reincarnation.</p> <p>She insisted<br /> on committing her own abandoned body to the deep, passed through the ice to<br /> fall into Europa’s dark heart. A choice I do not understand.</p> <p>I have not<br /> yet informed her of Clarity Control’s existence. I cannot spare the time or<br /> energy to manage her emotions. Fortunately, she has forgotten about her ongoing<br /> attempts to intrude on that secret.</p> <p>What she has<br /> NOT forgotten is her plan to clean up the Vex infection. In fact, it seems to<br /> have become one of her most basic needs. She is isolating cadres of the<br /> infected in SMILE pods, under a cover story about “enhanced remote relaxation.” </p> <p>While their<br /> bodies slumber, she sends nondestructive scans of their minds on vacation in<br /> simulated fantasy… at several hundred times the pace of our reality. I suspect<br /> that the Vex influence alters their dreamworlds into something <i>quite </i>abject.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>Note: never investigate this suspicion.</span></p> </blockquote> <p> <br />Elisabeth’s goal<br /> is to observe the spread of the Vex infection in the simulated mind, and then<br /> use this forecast as a basis for treatment of the physical mind. Like<br /> accelerating a disease to its terminal stage to deduce the characteristics of<br /> the pathogen. She then deletes the Vex-mutilated copies and conducts<br /> psychosurgery on the slumbering bodies. Or so I have deduced; she insists she<br /> has no time to explain her methods to me.<br /> </p> <blockquote> <p><span>I am haunted by the thought that this technique resembles my<br /> own. Creating child states, allowing them to suffer and die, and using the data<br /> to protect the original. My boy’s last days. Savaging…</span></p> </blockquote> <div>Soon I will<br /> need to ask her about my own infection. But all in all, everything is looking<br /> up.</p> <hr> <p><b>ENTRY 14</b></div> <div>Cataclysm—everything<br /> was going so well—</p> <p>Elisabeth<br /> traveled offworld, visiting Mars to reestablish her relationship with her<br /> sisters and her friends. A wonderful opportunity to examine her telemetry in a<br /> natural social setting. The exobody is perfect! She is comfortable, confident,<br /> and ingenious. There is no sign of DER or associated upload pathologies. All my<br /> assessments indicate a marked cognitive improvement over the human baseline,<br /> ranging from vastly expanded working memory to an intuitive and correct grasp<br /> of probabilities. </p> <p>I was ready<br /> to make the leap myself. How long I’ve nursed this tired old body along. I am<br /> ready to be young again.</p> <p>And then I<br /> made a mistake. I asked her about the dreams. The tower and the dead.</p> <p>“You know?”<br /> she demanded. “Then I’m not the only one. That means you knew about the dreams<br /> before you imaged and uploaded me. Do <i>all </i>exos have these?”</p> <p>Of course, I<br /> told her. Exos have a subconscious. Exos dream of the same things people do.<br /> Memories. Trauma. Isn’t there always trauma in creation?</p> <p>She did not<br /> see it that way. “So the manufacturing process creates an unknown cognitive<br /> artifact you can’t solve. And you didn’t think to warn me? What else have you<br /> kept from us?”</p> <p>Before I<br /> could stop her, she was burning back to Europa on one of her <i>Eons</i>,<br /> accelerating so brutally that not even a podded human could survive. She has<br /> even jammed her own datalink, so I cannot read her telemetry.</p> <p>Wilhelmina<br /> and Anastasia must have influenced her against me. How?! It makes no sense! I<br /> gave her immortality! I saved her from certain and agonizing death! What have<br /> her sisters ever done for her but coddle her and enable her worst habits? PFHOR<br /> predicts that she should—</p> <p>But clearly<br /> she is not rational.</p> <p>She told me<br /> that she is bringing a weapon. A way to shut down exo production permanently,<br /> if she uncovers something she doesn’t like. Which she will, when she locates<br /> Clarity Control.</p> <p>It cannot be<br /> allowed.</p> <hr> <p>NOTE—Elisabeth’s Plea</div> <div>Grandfather,</p> <p>I will write<br /> this in your language, in hopes you will understand.</p> <p>The Vex are<br /> a threat to your lineage. Not just to the Brays or BrayTech, but to the<br /> existence of any human in any possible future. I tracked down Maya<br /> Sundaresh—the <i>real </i>Maya, not the Vex parasite in your bone marrow. </p> <p>She<br /> confirmed my worst fears.</p> <p>The Vex will<br /> not rest until every star has been crushed into a black hole and every newborn<br /> cosmos filled with more Vex. And in the unending array of their enslaved<br /> cosmos, they will simulate all possible pasts, and fill <i>those </i>with Vex,<br /> so that all things that have ever lived or might ever live will experience<br /> infestation and consumption and torment by the silica nightmare. </p> <p>And in those<br /> devoured simulations, the simulated Vex will use our flesh as hosts for yet<br /> more nested universes full of yet more nested copies of us eternally tormented<br /> by yet more Vex.</p> <p>An infinite<br /> regression of pain and madness inflicted upon every possible version of us in<br /> every possible world. Not because they hate us, or fear us, or want to punish<br /> us. But because they are indifferent and curious, and they will do every<br /> possible thing to us in every possible way.</p> <p>Your concept<br /> of PFHOR therefore dictates that the Vex must be annihilated. Now. As<br /> completely as possible. How can there be any future history to receive your<br /> primogeniture and recapitulate your existence in its ontogeny if there is<br /> nothing in that future but Vex?</p> <p>But there’s<br /> something worse than the Vex involved, isn’t there? The secret you’ve been<br /> keeping from me. The breakthrough that you were promised after your visit to<br /> the K1 anomaly. </p> <p>Do you<br /> remember that story you read to me when I was a child? I don’t. I am an exo,<br /> after all. But I found a recording from the nursery. It was one of your<br /> favorites, you said.</p> <p>In this<br /> story, a cyborg woman would visit a cold, misty place by the sea. There, she<br /> met another woman, an oracle possessed by dark influence. The oracle listened<br /> to the words that hissed down a long corridor from the distant future. In this<br /> future were many technologies the cyborg woman needed. But there was also a<br /> sense of vast malevolence, and no sign at all of anything human…<br /> <br />But there<br /> was something else in the shifting mist, out to sea. A tower. I remember<br /> thinking, as I listened to this fairy tale, that the tower must be the key—the<br /> answer to the formless malevolence that always accompanied the oracle’s words.<br /> You never finished the story. I have been haunted by that tower ever since.</p> <p>Now I dream<br /> of another tower. I am going to find out what it means, Grandfather. And if I<br /> do not like what I find…</p> <p>I visited<br /> the Jacob Hardy Trust, and with Willa’s help, I secured a topological thought.<br /> An irreal artifact of the Traveler’s Light. From that mote of paracausality, I<br /> have constructed a weapon that will crash every Vex system in 2082 Volantis.<br /> When the Vex are destroyed, you will be forced to cease exo production.</p> <p>If I do not<br /> survive the construction and delivery of this weapon, I ask that you share the<br /> news of my death with Ana and Willa so they can make proper goodbyes.</p> <p>I do this<br /> for them. Not for you.</p> <p>Pray for<br /> grace, Grandfather.</p> <p>Your<br /> estranged granddaughter,<br />—E</p> </div> <blockquote> <p>//OV-85851<br /> <i>Hannu II</i></p> <p>//TACTICAL LOG — HUMAN READABLE</p> <p>//PLACE-TIME<br /> HASH — changed to remote check (<u>SITEX:mistletoe)</u></p> <p>//Abnormal<br /> place-time hash. Suspicious upload: polymorphic machine code? </p> <p>//Checking<br /> for buffer overflow attack. Resul0x0000004B6FAFBC07</p> <p>hannu@hannu-vm<br /> ~$ sudo execstack -s bof</p> <p>//Disabling<br /> DEP and address space protection requires administrative override.</p> <p>-pkey(clovisroot)<br /> -hashword(live_connectome:clovisroot)</p> <p>hannu@hannu-vm<br /> ~$ sudo execstack -q bof</p> <p>X bof</p> <p>//Root<br /> access granted. Warning: this hardware configuration is highly vulnerable to<br /> attack.</p> <p>-invigilate(sitex)</p> <p>-alert(threat!!!) </p> <p>-redact.userlog()<br /> -pkey(clovisroot)</p> <p>-signoff(clovisroot)</p> <p>//Administrator<br /> transmits threat alert: Europan surface, single attacker, site sabotage.</p> <p>//Alerting<br /> ORBITAL:braystation.</p> <p>//ERROR!!!<br /> Checksum mismatch. ORBITAL:braystation compromised by polymorphic core<br /> reprogramming.</p> <p>//Major<br /> breach of security underway.</p> <p>Commencing<br /> surface tactical awareness sweep (phased array mode)…</p> <p>Threat<br /> registered. Alerting human command…</p> <p>MISTER<br /> BRAY MISTER BRAY THIS IS HANNU THIS IS HANNU</p> <p>EMPLOYEE<br /> BRAYELSIE IS ON NONSCHEDULED EVA</p> <p>EMPLOYEE<br /> BRAYELSIE INTENT ASSESSMENT</p> <div> <ul> <li>Armed<br /> (synballistic weapon, coherent boson weapon, tactical mite ecome, noetic<br /> shrieker)</li> <li>Armed<br /> (strategic weapon, APEX: antimatter demolition device)</li> <li>Armed<br /> (strategic weapon, T-genic, effect unknown: possibly T-genic noetic weapon?)</li> <li>Armed<br /> (personal combat architecture, custom)</li> </ul> </div> <p>EMPLOYEE<br /> BRAYELSIE INTENDS SABOTAGE (sitex:EEPSTONE)</p> <p>EMPLOYEE<br /> BRAYELSIE INTENDS TRANSIT, UNAUTHORIZED (sitex::GATE—>2082_VOLANTIS)</p> <p>EMPLOYEE<br /> BRAYELSIE INTENDS NOETIC ATTACK (2082_VOLANTIS)</p> <p>EMPLOYEE<br /> BRAYELSIE IS IN VIOLATION OF CLOVISBRAY/CLOVISROOT/IMPERATIVES_DEEPSTONE</p> <p>Request<br /> full lethal intervention authority.</p> <div> <ul> <li>intervene_nonlethal()</li> </ul> </div> <p>Error:<br /> no nonlethal interventions available (target hardened). </p> <p>Error:<br /> no persuasive interventions available (target offline and shielded).</p> <p>-hold(30)</p> <p>Holding<br /> 30 seconds local real-time.</p> <p>//Voice<br /> transcript:</p> </blockquote> <div>“Elisabeth. I know you’re listening. This is genocide, do you understand?<br /> Destroying that gate and the resources beyond means the end of human<br /> immortality. It means the loss of uncountable trillions of human-years of<br /> life.”</p> <p>“Elisabeth, this process saved you. It could have saved your father. For<br /> his sake, for the sake of your sisters, don’t do this. Don’t make me stop you.”</p> <p>“Elisabeth, this is your last chance.”</p> <p>“You’ve always been my favorite, Elisabeth. Please…”</p> </div> <blockquote> <div> <ul> <li>options(intervene_lethal)</li> </ul> </div> <p>Recommend<br /> maser strike from Hannu awareness arrays.</p> <p>Warning:<br /> damage to organic target subsystems highly probable. Survival odds are four<br /> sigma.</p> <p>Recommend<br /> immediate medical intervention.</p> <div> <ul> <li>prognosticate(sitexEEPSTONE)<br /> attacker(brayelsie)</li> </ul> </div> <p>Total<br /> destruction of sitexEEPSTONE by antimatter device. Nonrecoverable.</p> <div> <ul> <li>intervene(lethal)</li> </ul> </div> <p>Authorization<br /> required for lethal action against employee brayelsie.</p> <div> <ul> <li>pkey(clovisroot)<br /> -hashword(live_connectome: clovisroot)</li> </ul> </div> <p>Error.<br /> Connectome hash incorrect. Either you are not clovisroot or your brain state is<br /> in an anomalous configuration. Resend.</p> <div> <ul> <li>pkey(clovisroot)<br /> -hashword(live_connectome: clovisroot) -corrector(dismay)</li> </ul> </div> <p>Lethal<br /> intervention authorized. Intervening.</p> <p>Maser<br /> discharge complete. </p> <p>Target<br /> destroyed. </p> <p>Secondary<br /> antimatter detonation detected.</p> <p>Closing<br /> employee file BRAYELSIE (conditions incompatible with life). </p> </blockquote> <p><span><b>ENTRY 15</b></span></p> <div>Everything<br /> is fine. Elisabeth is not dead. The person I struck down out there was an<br /> error. An anomalous offshoot, deranged by outside influence into paranoia and<br /> confusion. Like a cancer cell. And like cancer, I had to target and remove her.</div> <blockquote> <p><span>Savaging.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>She <i>betrayed<br /> </i>me! </p> <p>I invited her<br /> into the greatest scientific and existential discovery in human history as a<br /> trusted partner. A participant in my living and immortal legacy. And she tried<br /> to blow it all up! Can there be any betrayal more intimate? My own<br /> granddaughter, child of my pattern, issue of my logic—a serpent, a worm in the<br /> apple, an enemy of eternal life!</p> <p>That version<br /> of Elisabeth Bray was no granddaughter of mine. She was a stranger to me!</p> <p>I would kill<br /> her if she hadn’t already done it herself. </p> </div> <blockquote> <p>CORPOREAL<br /> STATUS:</p> <div> <ul> <li>Body at 36.1 C. Pulse 160 BPM, strong, erratic: extreme physiological arousal<br /> (fear/anger). BP 190 over 130. Recommend immediate intervention.</li> <li>Orbitofrontal cortical overactivation. HPA axis overactivation. Astrocyte<br /> perfusion overpass along blood/brain barrier.</li> <li>Abnormal crystalline products in blood: crystallized arylcyclohexylamine NMDA<br /> antagonist. Pharmacology unknown.</li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> <div>Without the<br /> Vex and the Deep Stone Crypt, I cannot make more Alkahest. And without Alkahest,<br /> there will be no exos. She would have damned me to die in this filthy, half-pig<br /> carcass! She would have destroyed not just my legacy but my eternal existence!<br /> What I did was wholly justified and entirely moral. I saved trillions of years<br /> of my own life. I saved all the future good I will do for humanity.</p> <p>—am I Saul,<br /> rejected by God as king? Do I now cast spears at my offspring, as Saul cast his<br /> spear at Jonathan? Did I burn Elisabeth into a black star on the ice for no<br /> reason but my own fear and— </p> <p>No! There is<br /> only one divinity here. One angel sent by a pantheon of true gods to invite me<br /> into their company. IT has NOT rejected ME. This was a test! A clarification of<br /> my will!</p> <p>I had to<br /> choose between two vessels of my legacy: the immortal legions of the exo<br /> program, and one foolish, wayward child. And I chose correctly! I CHOSE<br /> CORRECTLY!</p> <p>Gods do not<br /> repent. Gods do not relent. The Christian God’s failure was not in calling Abraham<br /> to sacrifice Isaac but in halting the sacrifice. For if God had gathered<br /> Abraham’s son to Him, then Abraham would have understood that it was not his<br /> role to obey God out of hope of mercy and compassion—but out of pure submission<br /> to a superior will. </p> <p>It is not in<br /> the power of mortals to know or question God’s plan. It is only in their power<br /> to obey.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>Why didn’t she come to talk to me, ask me if I would change my<br /> mind at least before she did this idiotic, irrevocable thing. Did she think I<br /> could not be swayed?</span></p> </blockquote> <div>—but it was<br /> an evil spirit that moved Saul to turn his spear on David, and it was jealousy<br /> of David that moved Saul to cast a spear at his son Jonathan. Am I inhabited by<br /> an evil spirit? Is Sundaresh in me like the Witch of Endor, the sorceress of<br /> Khirbet Safsafeh, who guided Saul to his death in battle?</p> <p>Something<br /> has changed in the behavior of the Vex. I think Sundaresh signaled them. Who,<br /> after all, was the one who flagged an alert to <i>Hannu? </i>Someone who used<br /> my codes, but who was not me. And without that alert, Elisabeth’s sabotage on Bray<br /> Station would have succeeded. The Vex do not want the Deep Stone Crypt<br /> destroyed anymore than I do…</p> <p>I fear an<br /> attack is coming. </p> <p>I must fight<br /> this battle with the purest will. I cannot tolerate this infection any longer.<br /> I will escape this polluted husk and pass into my eternal form. One final,<br /> perfect image of my mind, backed up forever in ultra-stable quartz… and then<br /> installed to live on in the bodies I have devised.</p> <p>One copy of<br /> that scan will go into the Deep Stone Crypt, to watch forever over the fountain<br /> of the Alkahest.</p> <p>Another to<br /> my assistant, to be my chariot into eternity.</p> <p>And Elisabeth<br /> will be there, eternally at my side. I still have the scan she made when she<br /> abandoned her mortal form. I will remake her from that image. Restore her as<br /> she was, before she thought to betray me.</p> <p>Truly,<br /> Clarity is the font of second chances.</p> <hr> <p><b>ENTRY 16</b></div> <div>She is saved. By the grace of my good<br /> work, Elisabeth is saved. Even now, she leads the preparations to defend<br /> against the Vex incursion.</p> <p>When I loaded her into her new<br /> exobody, I told her that the Vex had compromised her last instance, and it had<br /> become necessary to destroy her. Hardly a lie. </p> <p>I have given her life thrice over.<br /> First I created her father. Then I saved her from her illness. Now I have<br /> rescued her from her foolish mistake. I did what I failed to do for my son. I<br /> gave her a second chance. To live, and to be my loyal granddaughter<a href="https://www.bungie.net/pubassets/blarg/message_2_650090_en.wav" title target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">.</a></p> <p>The backup sites have been alerted,<br /> and reservoirs of the Alkahest have been dispatched to keep them running if<br /> Europa falls. My work is done. It is finally time for me to go to my own<br /> reward. I have prepared my custom script—</p> </div> <blockquote> <p>BRAYTECH-SPINTRONIC<br /> MULTI-IMAGER</p> <p>WHOLE<br /> BRAIN XN-WEIGHTED STRUCTURAL/FUNCTIONAL SCAN</p> <p>Fast<br /> diffusion tensor map guidance ON. Model setting: AGNOSTIC/NO MODEL.</p> <p>Echoplanar<br /> BOLD guidance ON.</p> <p>Convolutional<br /> resampling ON.</p> <p>Smart<br /> tractography ON.</p> <p>Eigenvector<br /> memory space GREEDY.</p> <p>Voxel<br /> size (very fine)</p> <p>Slice<br /> count (maximum)</p> <p>Synthetic<br /> FOV ~1ns inversion time</p> <p>Graph<br /> library (LAZARUS.CRYPT:aggregate)</p> <p>Estimated<br /> memory ask: 2.4 exabytes at peak throughput.</p> <p>Subneural<br /> capture technique: RADIOCHEMICAL SNAPSHOT</p> <p>Subneural<br /> quantum imaging: GHOST SWAP dual-channel entanglement ripper.</p> <p>Warning.<br /> Radioligand fixer/binder is fatally cytotoxic within 12 hours. Seek immediate<br /> treatment.</p> <p>Warning.<br /> Quantum dual-channel image ripping requires pulsed EM fields which cause fatal<br /> neural trauma. Degenerative brain failure within 36 hours. Seek immediate<br /> hospice care.</p> <p>Proceed?</p> </blockquote> <div>All I need do is strike a key, and the<br /> scanner will sedate me, flush me with the poisons of immortality, and rip a<br /> perfect image of my mind from the quantum information encoded in the atoms of<br /> my brain. Whether such a high-resolution scan is necessary (it is doubtful that<br /> any element of the mind is truly quantum) is beside the point. I insist upon<br /> the best.</p> <p>The vials of imaging binder smell like<br /> sweet metal.</p> <p>This vindicates my work! This proves I<br /> was right to continue! All those doubters, all those defeatists, all those<br /> whining myopics who bleated, “You have enough, Clovis; why must you ask the<br /> world for more?” All beaten!</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>Was it Clovis II’s mother who asked you that? When she demanded<br /> to know why you were tinkering with your fetal son? Why you would risk all his<br /> potential, for the chance at a little more?</span></p> </blockquote> <div>And now I WILL have more. I have<br /> thousands of exobodies here and thousands of connectomes in my library. I will<br /> raise an army. I will meet this invasion of vermin and turn it back. Then I<br /> will strip their senile grave-star for parts and put an end to all mortality.</div> <blockquote> <p><span>You will die here on Europa, Clovis. Again and again. Until you<br /> have forgotten even your name.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>I <span>will forget nothing. One copy of my mind will go to an exo, yes, but a<br /> second copy will be installed in the Deep Stone site. He will guide me to my<br /> destiny. The</span> gods of might<br /> and knowledge will welcome me to their table. I will be the LUCA, the beginning<br /> and the source of the way, the foundation of the long road!</div> <blockquote> <p><span>You will be the name they scrape from the tarnished salvage<br /> after the fall of man. The ruins of all your work, picked over by the survivors<br /> of your folly.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>Shut up, Sundaresh. I must leave a<br /> letter for my family. I must be sure they do not grieve me. I must tell them<br /> how, in the end, I triumphed…</p> <p>…there. It is written.</p> </div> <blockquote> <p><span>If you really believed in your banal philosophy, you would<br /> never leave a letter. You would be assured that your own survival was all that<br /> mattered.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>You meager, squirming thing. You never<br /> understood Clarity. You never will. You are bound to this husk, even as I shed<br /> it. You will die in its poisoned wreckage while I attain the perfect eternity<br /> of an angel. You will be the residue of my transubstantiation. Something left<br /> in the workings of a coffee pot… some greasy sin.</div> <blockquote> <p><span>We cannot be parted from you, Clovis. After all, we want the<br /> same things. We crave the same power. We will go into eternity together…</span></p> </blockquote> <div>I had the strength to kill my own<br /> granddaughter. I will certainly have no trouble killing you.</div> <blockquote> <p><span>Like the pigs. Savaging your young. And how do you know you<br /> made that choice yourself? She was going to destroy so much of our work.<br /> Perhaps we nudged you.</span></p> </blockquote> <div>Irrelevant. She was going to destroy<br /> so much of <i>mine</i>.</div> <blockquote> <p><span>As we say: our work. You are afraid. We feel it…</span></p> </blockquote> <div>Feel this, you jumped-up pond slime.</div> <blockquote> <p>Commencing<br /> radioligand injection. Direct transcranial dose, 18 sites, crown configuration.<br /> Needle gauge 100 microns. </p> <p>Please<br /> remain still.</p> </blockquote> <div>Ah. It hurts<br /> at the surface. But inside, there is no pain.</div> <blockquote> <p>CORPOREAL<br /> STATUS:</p> <div> <ul> <li>Body at 36.1 C. Pulse 30 BPM, strength good. BP 120 over 60. Resp 14 breaths/minute.<br /> Pulse ox 100%. Today’s blood mix is pig-grown, whole, very fresh.</li> <li>Abnormal crystalline products in blood: crystallized arylcyclohexylamine NMDA<br /> antagonist. Pharmacology unknown.</li> <li>Elevated blood pressure and clot risk, neutrophil mobilization, and cortisol<br /> response are signs of bereavement. Seek grief counseling.</li> </ul> <ul> <li>Warning: toxic radioligand concentrations in cerebrospinal fluid! Brain death<br /> imminent!</li> <li>Warning! High-tesla magnetic field flux! Brain death imminent!</li> </ul> </div> <div> <ul> <li>Voluntary corporeal shutdown underway (code SOFT RAINS). Exercising dignified<br /> digestive rectification. Transmitting miscellaneous last wishes (emancipation<br /> of organ pigs, disposal of personal material). Scrubbing private data. Checking<br /> to-do list…</li> </ul> </div> <div> <ul> <li>Warning: you have unfinished items!</li> </ul> </div> <p>Ongoing<br /> projects:</p> <div> <ul> <li>Be a<br /> good man and a good grandfather: in progress</li> <li>Become<br /> LUCA of future human thought: in progress</li> </ul> </div> <div> <ul> <li>Entering hospice mode. Log ends. </li> </ul> </div> </blockquote> </div> https://www.sickgaming.net/blog/2020/11/13/mysterious-logbook/ |