Book 4 - Chapter 9 - Training inside the gates of hell (Patreon)

It didn’t take too long to setup the basics for our first few trials on diving into the digital world.

Wrath walked me into the room, which had been mostly a repurposed office, so our grand journey started on more mundane beginnings. “This location is clear of any possible spyware.” She said after a quick search.

I turned on the lights and strolled on in. A bunch of old leather chairs with desks before them greeted my sights. I could practically smell the cracked leather coated with dust.

But we were looking for subtilty, so no point in using something people walk nearby often. I took a seat on one of the chairs and reclined backwards, hearing the whole thing creak louder than a rifle shot.

Wrath placed a large box on the table in front, and hooked the wires into outlets nearby. Lights blinked on. “Wireless signal connected.” She said. “The router is operational.”

A moment later, a stream of black smoke trailed out of her hands and arms sinking into the box’s seams. A few moments passed before she nodded, the smoke returning back to wherever it came from. “I’ve inscribed a soul fractal within the inside panel. A server has been booted up and running within instance. We’re ready to begin.”

“All right, here goes.” I muttered, reaching a hand out and touching the bulky box. I could feel the soul fractal on the other side of the thin metal, powered by currents connecting back to the machine. A moment later, I reached out for it and jumped inside.

A single tendril of soul remained connected to my limp body, while concepts bloomed into life around me. The largest of which was the router itself. There was something more to it. A gateway almost. Father had told me this was how he had felt while inside Winterscar’s soul fractal. That there were things within the armor he could reach out to and command. Much to the armor’s distaste.

A tendril of soul connected to the concept of the router itself, and I found myself flowing into it. Sinking down into water, as if I were in the clan baths. Except there was not a person around me, no end in sight, just the twilight blue water, bubbles rising up as I sank down, body limp, awareness expanding outwards.

Motes of data were floating around me, looking like sparkling dust in the water. Loose, moving around without much purpose. Redundant messengers, pinging back and forth.

Further down I sank and started to really understand where I was. My soul was somehow moving around in the system, despite remaining within the soul fractal. More concepts bloomed into life around me. Data banks, ports of access, storage, monitors, all kinds of smaller details. They formed into physical objects before me. Usually cubes or rings, all moving around each other. The space in between was large enough for me to land on and stand.

A ping came, a more concrete package of data, sent directly my way. It hit my body lightly, simply alerting me someone had triangulated where I’d appeared.

A look down the direction of the ping and I saw Wrath. She hadn’t done anything to change her appearance inside the digital realm. Although, to be fair, neither had I.

“Well. This is interesting.” I said, looking down at my hands and flexing them slightly. “Didn’t think I’d have arms or a head in here.”

The world around me was murky, as if I were back in the bunker, inside the flooded sections. The metal ring I stood on wasn’t really solid ground, but felt more like a barrier that separated this small section of the world from a larger wider one out there. If I jumped through the ring’s center, down into the water’s depth, it would send me elsewhere. Far away. Water both surrounded me but didn't. I could move just as fast as I thought. My body was more a concept than an actual physical entity here.

“As I understand, fractals operate on concepts.” Wrath said, confirming my thoughts. “The digital world is different to the physical one, yet we perceive it the same way.”

“How exactly do I appear to you? Because to me, I think I look the same and you do to.”

She tilted her head. “A mixture of inputs. Your digital avatar and signature matches what Feathers and other machines with soul fractals would appear as. It is difficult to put into words. Simpler machines do not care to keep a sense of physical self.” She waved a hand through the water, bits of programs and particles trailing behind the swirl. None of those appeared as people, only primordial plankton.

I sort of understood what she meant. The colorful coral that drew on the metal ring like corrosive rust wasn’t so much as coral at all but a stack of temporarily stored data, frozen into solid useable shape. The soul sight was twisting my senses together.

“Only machines with soul fractals see the world like this?” I asked, curious. I knew Feathers had soul fractals, I’d seen it in the soul sight. I hadn’t known other machines also had them.

“Correct.” Wrath confirmed. “Regular virtual intelligences cannot develop true sapience without a soul fractal. The highest they could gain would be sentience. It does not confer great advantages, thus soul fractals are only included in machines that require fractal powers, which is all of us. All machines operating in the world have soul fractals, in order to connect to the Unity fractal.”

“The unity fractal?”

She nodded. “Machines connect to one another through this fractal. And mother can connect to any of us as well. She will not be able to tell where we are location wise through that fractal, but can command an audience with us using it, even in a blackout. There may be more to this fractal, though it seems to be used for convenience.”

She gave me more bits of trivia on that fractal, and how it’s used. The unity fractal could unify concepts together, if both objects had been inscribed with that fractal. There were certainly a lot of interesting ideas I could think about on how to abuse this fractal. It was apparently a pretty big deal to machines, even if it was relatively mundane in what it did.

“I would recommend against using this fractal.” Wrath said. “I am not sure why, but Relinquished always has a connection to the unity fractal. Anything inscribed with it, is by default connected to her. If anything, I seek to get rid of it from my own suite. Or at least counteract its effects. Mother will always be able to contact me so long as it remains fused. It operates much like a leash would.”

“Can’t just, you know, cut it out with a blade?” I asked, shrugging.

“The thought had never occurred to me. How silly of me.” Wrath said, arms folding up. “That was sarcasm.”

“Noted. So what’s the actual reason you can’t?”

“Machine soul fractals are our home. Damaging it affects us. In this case, it would be fatal, leaving a hole in the soul fractal that no longer protects us from the world outside.” She thought, and came with a better analogy. “It would be as if your mask was broken on the surface, leaving the surface air in contact with your skin.”

I gave a shiver at that. I’d seen frostbite from plenty of people returning from expeditions. Retainers described it as if their digits had been outright set on fire the moment skin was exposed.

“What actually is a machine soul in the first place, how are they created?” I asked. “Because it seems pretty natural for a human to have one, when does a machine become smart enough to have one? I don’t think excel is going to be plotting anything sinister other than crashing a bunch of times when data isn't saved.”

She frowned, thinking. “The event happens naturally when an empty soul fractal is powered and connected to a machine with a neuromorphic mind past a certain threshold in complexity. That’s the only known requirement so far. Range of when the soul coalesces is also in debate, some more complicated shells can generate a soul within a few minutes, while more simple minded machines require a few days.”

That was a sentence to unpack. I had to ask Wrath one by one to define the terms she was using here, but the gist of it was that machines could only get so smart with the tech humanity had. They tried to push the boundaries by making the machines operate more like the human brain would, and it did work - somewhat. Nuromorphic computers were a step in the right direction for making machines more creative, but they came with limits to processing speed, and still hit a bottleneck.

Once the soul fractal was hooked up, that’s when the neuromorphic part really took off and developed further than it could have. Fractal tech really did change the game entirely when it came to advancements, and humans of that day were constantly discovering new fractals to use.

Then the war happened and everything stagnated. “Mother has not continued or advanced fractal technology since.” Wrath said, wrapping up her lecture.

“She hasn’t? What? If I were an evil AI goddess with the entire world to play with, I’d be doing all kinds of research experiments. Who knows what I could discover with that kind of reach over that timeline?”

Wrath nodded. “I cannot say for sure. The only confirmed data point is that there has not been new entries into the fractal archives since the war ended. Nor have I found any projects to research new fractals. This is one of a multitude of strange behaviors I’ve noticed from Mother. A part of why I still wish to dive into the archives despite the danger. Not only to discover a means to hide my people from her sight, but also understand my enemy better.” She looked up, peering through the water surrounding us. To the surface, where data faded away back into I/O ports that led to the physical world. “Eventually, I will have to face her. The more I understand who and what she is, the better prepared I can be for that moment.”

The murky water felt more and more clear the more I attuned myself to the soul fractal, and let my soul sight be the one in command. My head was clearly doing some kind of interpretation of the surrounding world, but not by much.

“If the dive operation worked out, I’ll keep an eye for info on Relinquished.” I promised. It wasn’t just because she’s a friend, I was also curious about what the goddess of machines was really up to on her silver throne.

“Appreciated. Do remain searching for means to hide machines from her sight as the top priority. The protofeathers must have been able to do so, it's possible we can replicated this. The emperor and mother’s own history should come as a secondary objective. Now, we should begin testing combat operations within the digital sea.”

I nodded, straight back to business then. “Are you going to be generating some simple programs to fight off, or a training course?”

Another head tilt. “I was thinking of using my fists instead. Tenisent suggested this as the starting point.”

Of course he fucking would. That bastard.

She took a combat stance before I could squawk anything out. “Direct means are often the most effective.”

“I strongly object.” I said, quickly, hands snapping up to guard my jaw, a cautious foot step backwards.

Not that it made any difference in this world.

“Your objection is noted.” She said and struck out with a palm in my direction. A wall of willpower hit me like an intercept airspeeder and sent me flying off the edge of the ring.

All right then. I need to file a complaint.

And as it turned out, I should have filed multiple complaints, because it progressively got worse and worse each day.

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Getting beat up in the digital world didn’t leave any lasting effects on the body. This was both a blessing and a terrible, horrible, curse. Pain was still felt, this time through the soul itself, but besides a bit - or a lot - of pain, nothing permanent occurred.

Wrath had some amount of mercy in her. She’d often make sure I’d get thrown off into the sea itself, so that I wouldn’t crush my digital body into a wall or rock. I’d eventually get slowed, and then start sinking to the next floating geometric object, or would glide through the waters back to where I’d been kicked off.

This wasn’t where the complaints would come in. No, there was an entire monster lurking in the digital sea all of us had to contend with. Prowling around, maw filled with sharp teeth ready to attack anything.

Father.

Of course, he had no such reservations when we trained. As he described it, everything to do with the soul revolved around willpower. And the digital sea was far more malleable to a soul than the real world was.

Basically, I’m saying his fighting style was pure brute strength.

Wrath’s attacks felt like a four hundred pound hammer to the chest, but I could reliably deflect or match that power if I saw it coming. Father’s was an outright continental shelf speeding in my direction with the words ‘stop’ written down in the dictionary as a funny joke. I had to get smart to deal with anything he threw out. Both of us had to.

Wrath was excellent at generating a bunch of distraction programs that would nip at his heels or otherwise annoy him long enough for her to slip away. I couldn’t code anything out of my head, and the bits of software training I knew how to do were woefully underpowered compared to what a Feather could generate.

I did find my own way of surviving the sledgehammer punches - specifically the digital sea itself and all the floating pieces that comprised it. I couldn’t generate things wholesale like Wrath could, but I could connect to what already existed and command them to change because the occult was a weapon that cheated a lot of rules. A pillar could rise here, a ring could collapse there. And if I had good enough focus, I could even have the geometry of the stage change up. The very water of the sea could be bent with enough understanding of what it really was.

Watching Wrath think her mental barriers were strong enough to resist a hit from me was comical when it wasn’t the hit itself that did the work, but the surging tide following it. She’d get blown off into the water with an angry scowl, and try to zip right back and make it my problem.

Dealing with programs that didn’t hold a soul fractal was far easier in comparison. All I had to do was reach a hand out with my mind, connect and then crush. The complexity and power of the program would delay how long it took to break, but eventually I’d find a way. They could fight back, often with metaphorical teeth, trying to take bites out of me. That didn’t end well for them, the closer they were to me, the easier it was to throw my willpower around.

Father didn’t have that kind of finesse, but then again the monster didn’t need any. In all our practice free-for-all bouts, it usually ended up with Wrath and I coming to a very quick and understood agreement to work together against Father, or we’d both get literally punched out of the digital world. Take too much damage, and the sense of self would vanish away, throwing me painfully back into my soul fractal as a wounded blob.

Apparently, even a machine could feel pain, which was a surprise to me so at least I wasn’t alone in the suffering.

Things got worse when Kidra got involved, because of course she would, and this was where all my complaints are aimed at.

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Let me preface this in the kindest way possible - my dear sister is an evil traitor and should never be trusted again.

“Again.” Kidra said, hand stretched out, a sword materializing into the digital world by her will.

Father nodded somberly, flicking a replica of the family occult knife in his hand, spinning it around back into position. He took his usual stance, waiting for us to regather our forces.

My dear sister gave me a glare, since I hadn’t gotten back up on my feet. “Please.” I begged. “He stabbed me twelve times last round.”

“He wouldn’t have, had you not tried to run when he charged.” She said. “You panicked, failed to trust your team and paid for it. I would have reached you in time if you had stood your ground.”

“What, you’re asking me to hold off an angry blender with two daggers?” I said, pointing my broken longsword at the man in question. Father returned the glare with an icy calm look. I knew if we didn’t hurry up and get back up and ready, he’d charge at us early.

“He modulates his strike speed when fighting you to match your limits.” Kidra said, taking stance. “You might not notice it, but I do. You could have stood your ground.”

She had the audacity to give me a quick kick in the chest when I still didn’t comply. I grunted some more complaints as I stood back up, willing my longsword to mend itself back into one piece.

Father nodded at the two of us, as if nothing were wrong in the world. “Begin.” He said. And then charged forward for another bout.

Further out into the digital misty water, I could see the other platforms and geometry floating with combatants from the clan equally practicing their techniques, sometimes not even horizontally. Directly above us, as if mirrored, I saw Sagrius fighting with three other Winterscar knights as a team against a few clan elites from different houses. Gravity was more a suggestion in this world. But the closest duel happening was on my left, slightly tilted at an angle, between two familiar snarling opponents, clashing blades with genuine hate against one another. 

Wrath and Cathida.

Journey itself hadn’t really cared to join our training, even though by all reason it should have been able to. It had a soul fractal, a soul, and a mechanical brain capable of intelligent thought. It still only cared to protect its user in the physical world and had no issue watching me get shanked again and again here.

That is, up until Wrath literally connected the server we were using to the armor, forcing its hand. Technically, this section of the digital sea was all within Journey's local systems now.

Given the intrusion, it decided on its own to pick the best engram it had to fight off the invaders, which was Cathida.

Chaos ensued, now that Cathida had a means to vent her frustration about the Feather in the most direct possible manner. On the other hand, Wrath got a very well matched fighting partner in exchange. Especially since this version of Cathida wasn’t human and wasn’t limited by human speed of thought. In addition to having a perfect memory recall of all surface technique’s she’d seen me, Kidra or the clan knights perform. That put her on the same level as Wrath, and a lifetime of intuition got her over the edge. The crusader seemed to be actually enjoying herself, since she was winning most of the fights and getting to stab a Feather in the process, on top of insulting her the entire time.

Wrath had started neutral to Cathida’s taunts and feelings, but quickly learned to develop a genuine hate-freindship. Hatemanship. Some kind of abomination like that. Given that no Feather I knew of enjoyed getting stomped into the ground again and again, and Wrath proved to be no exception to this.

I feared that Wrath was learning the wrong vocabulary. She’d recently started trying to taunt back, like a hesitant cook figuring out how to use the right order of spices from a new crate of goods. That only encouraged Cathida to double down, which in turn did the same for Wrath, and so forth. 

Now, why was all of this my sister’s fault? Because out of all of us, the bloody battle maniac loved fighting enough to want this kind of thing, and smart enough to realize it was possible. Kidra pointed this out within minutes of talk, and Father happened to be around to hear it. There was no returning from that.

And why have only us five train when we had the entire clan’s elite knights to join the fun? All of them except for clan lord Atius, who somehow wasn’t able to do any of this. To be fair, Journey wasn’t able to do it either unless we mounted the server directly inside the systems it connected to. Wrath just used the unity fractal to bind herself like a stowaway. She couldn’t see the occult sight, nor reach out of her fractal soul, some kind of limitation to artificial souls compared to human ones.

Hence why she needed a human occult specialist like me.

I’ll grudgingly admit my skills in combat were growing by leaps and bounds now that there was no safety. In the past, I’d have to train with plastic swords and when I’d get too many bruises, we’d need to stop the training to recover. So most of the teaching was repeating katas and movements until they came naturally, with hand-holding spars occasionally happening once I had healed from the last time.

This kind of training was directly hands on, and everyone in this madhouse except for me was having an absolute blast with it. Bloodthirsty monsters.

Father charged into Kidra and I, delivering a quick flourish, slice, feint and backstep. Kidra tried to match him and that last backstep in the string of moves had been to avoid her follow-up counters.

Meanwhile, I just had my sword hand cut off instead within the first second into the fight.

Again.

This time I gritted through the flash of pain, yanked the sword out of my rapidly dissolving dismembered hand before it hit the ground, and went right back into the fight with my left hand. That was apparently the right move to make, as Father parried my strikes, smiled faintly and took a few more steps backwards to continue the spar with Kidra.

Instead of kicking Kidra a few hundred meters backwards and stabbing me twelve times again for doing the wrong move, like he’d done last time.

His training methods left a lot to be desired. Mostly in mercy.

Three more days of this before Wrath considered us ready to go dive into the machine archives. A very long three days.

• Next chapter - Secrets of the machine archives