The Starfighter Invitation

10 skill

[[Ensign?]] Dio said. [[You’re getting a little above yourself. You’re Rank Zero at the moment.]]

"Is it true there’s no level cap?"

[[In all the history of The Synergis, the highest Rank reached was one hundred and fifty-four. That Bio is lost, however. There are several dozen in the one-thirties. We have a number of stratagems active to improve them, and there are several we have hopes of reaching a new record.]]

"And Rank doesn’t equal level?"

[[Rank is a measure of your strength in lan. After a certain point, expanding lan Rank is immensely difficult. It is not a matter of accruing experience until you automatically gain a Rank. It is surpassing yourself.]]

I digested this, walking back to my control-less cockpit and settling cross-legged into the chair, my boots poking into my thighs. Progress through the game revolved around increasing a particular skill, rather than gaining levels?

"So what Rank would be needed to reach the next galaxy?"

[[That is a complicated question. Skipping, as the name implies, does not require arrival at your destination in a single bound. Simply by Skipping repeatedly, we should have spread beyond the bounds of Helannan centuries ago, but every ship that has Skipped a certain distance beyond the galactic halo has not returned.]]

"And you don’t know why?"

[[Not yet. There are places our ships cannot survive—gravity wells beyond their tolerance, stars, extreme atmospheric envelopes, and the centre of the galactic core. We have many theories on what could lie between galaxies, but we have yet to detect anything of note. Whether our ships are facing some consequence of galactic rotation—the Dark Current, as it is fancifully known—or there is a factor we have not even guessed at, our approach includes a push to increase the length of an individual Skip in the hopes of leaping across the imagined obstacle.]]

"So getting to the next galaxy is the main quest?"

[[It is one of the primary goals of The Synergis, certainly. But there is plenty to occupy us within Helannan. Half a trillion stars, and a great deal still to learn. And do. Start by opening your Activity menu.]]

Since only the [Challenge] menu was green, I went straight into it, and found an extensive selection:

Some of these I could guess at, but others… "Citadel?"

"Your best equivalent would be big lan dungeon."

The [Construct] option was green, so I took it, and was given only an opportunity to [Request].

"Any consequences for selecting this that I should know about?"

[[The first Challenge is universal, and will give you no difficulty: it’s designed to introduce you to the use of lan. Once you have completed it you will be given more choice, and your Loss and Abandon statistics will accrue.]]

"And there’s a penalty involved in bad statistics?"

[[The mockery of your fellows? My own mild disdain?]]

I gave my Cybercognate a steady look, then said: "So are you a permanent attachment? You follow me through thick and thin, a faithful guide, strewing barbs and bon mots along the way?"

[[I certainly don’t follow you into the wet room,]] Dio said.

A literal Bio break? I smiled, but waited, watching a seagull drifting far below.

[[No, I don’t follow you about all the time. Primarily, we work together on the lan-related Challenges and Trials, while you’ll be on your own for the majority of other Challenges. For the moment I’m conducting you generally, but once you’ve passed the initial orientation, you’re free to meander about as you will. Simply say privacy please or something similar and I’ll leave you. The [Contact] menu will be available if you have questions, or wish to progress in the game.]]

"What do you do when you’re not conducting me?"

[[Oh, all manner of perversions,]] Dio said, and even though I didn’t hear any laughter, I caught the rainbow shift.

"And when you’ve had your fill of perversions?" I asked, trying to guess what a glowing ball of light would find perverse.

[[Learn, socialise, make things, compete with others of my kind, rest.]]

"You sleep?"

[[Yes. We don’t need it as frequently as Bios.]]

"Does it matter if I travel a long way away from wherever you are?"

[[Skipping off to another planet would annoy me considerably. Otherwise, you will always be in reach of the Link.]]

An image of me appeared in my HUD, then reduced to an outline with a teardrop-shaped object nestled centrally in my chest.

[[All citizens of The Synergis have an implant connecting to the Link. It is how you transfer to modal units, prevent memory loss, and access information channels.]]

"And is it a gateway for Cybercognates?"

[[An access port, certainly,]] Dio said, serenely. [[Request your first Challenge now.]]

I didn’t obey immediately, finding myself again both amused and appalled by the game’s central concept. I was transport. Not only a means of moving a spaceship about, but a person with a door in my chest, and an alien rider who would be annoyed if I went out of reach.

[Request] produced only an arrow in my HUD, instead of—as I’d half-expected—a paragraph telling me to go kill rats in Farmer Griswold’s cellar, or bring back seven wolf pelts. I had played MMOs that didn’t start with kill or collection quests, but they were rare exceptions.

"So are all the Challenges just random competitions, or is there a storyline involved?" I asked, as I slipped out of my comfortable chair and trailed the arrow image out of the cockpit.

[[There are Challenges with narrative, and Challenges without. The first few lan Challenges are without any pretension to story, just simple training, and I will figuratively hold your hand through them all.]]

Reaching the empty area in the middle of my Snug I stopped, because the arrow had disappeared.

"I do hope the reward for walking from one room to the next is suitably generous."

[[Lan training is best in a clear space,]] Dio said, ignoring my attempt at snark. [[You will see the command to activate your focus has been added to your HUD.]]

An icon obligingly appeared in the bottom-left of my field of vision. I triggered it, sparing time to marvel once again at the ability to interact with the HUD merely by thinking. Then I suppressed a flinch as something sprang up around my head.

Lifting my hands, I discovered a faint tingling and then my face. Frowning, I went into the [Patterns] sub-menu to display my paper doll and confirm that I was now wearing a featureless grey helmet that lacked any form of opening for my face. Or the illusion of one.

The focus-turned-helmet didn’t affect my vision any more than a pair of sunglasses, but I felt restricted. Controlling an impulse to deactivate it immediately, I turned toward Dio.

"And now you download kung fu into my brain?"

[[Nothing so easy. Gaining the beginner’s range of lan skills will take many days and much effort.]]

"No training montage?"

[[In your dreams.]]

"This is in…"

[[Don’t say it. And no, there’s no shortcut. Suffering is mandatory.]]

"Wait, this is going to hurt?" I made as if to pull the helmet off, but then said more seriously: "I take it we can be hurt in this game?"

[[Oh, certainly. Though most modal units have high pain tolerance, since they’re used for physical challenges. Now I’m going to make you feel very strange.]]

The floor tilted. Or—no—the floor was fine, but my head was reeling and my vision blurred blue, as if I’d mainlined ten beers and chased them with spirits.

[[The focus is intensifying your connection to the lan within you,]] Dio went on. [[Giving you the ability to see and affect it.]]

The dizziness receded, but the blurry vision remained. I cautiously turned my head, and the blue blur swirled into attractive curls and spirals, leaving non-blue patches. It was as if my head was putting out azure gas.

"Trippy."

[[Eloquently put.]]

"I try. What now?"

[[The lan is part of you. Think of it as a hand, or many hands.]]

"Head tentacles? Lovely thought."

Briefly, the blue haze seemed to swirl into suckered arms. I was intensely aware of myself surrounded by them, and of the beam of sunlight spilling from the cockpit and spotlighting my lower body. I seemed to be seeing myself from the outside and the inside all at once—the helmet proving no impediment to looking at my own face. The pure clarity of my skin was faintly distracting: I kept noticing the even sheen and the absence of tiny specks and flaws that were part of me. It looked glowing and wonderful—magazine-quality without makeup—but for some reason bothered me immensely, pulling my attention back to search for the little red dot I knew sat beside my nose, and the pock that should be left of my eye.

"I think I’m beginning to understand why the synchronising thing is important."

[[Lan is very much an extension of self. And if you are distracted by your self, you will not be able to centre and focus on the lan. Your self-image is strong, which will assist in your control of lan.]]

"So we only ever do this lan stuff with our Core Unit?"

[[Most modal units are suppression modals. That means they are blocked from using lan, preventing interference with Challenges. Now, first we have a straightforward control exercise. I’ll project shapes, and you will move the lan to fill the shapes.]]

I was fascinated, immediately trying to shift the stuff. Not easy. The blue haze would certainly move when I wanted it to, but in spasmodic gusts and whorls, with occasional unexpected imagery. Ships and mermaids and dragonish eyes emerged when I least expected it, but very little tidily organised itself into the circle Dio projected.

"Like a two year-old trying to colour inside the lines," I said, dropping onto the couch when Dio finally told me to take a rest. I deactivated my focus, and rubbed my eyes. "I don’t see how that leads to space travel."

[[Don’t think of lan as a gas, think of it as a field of force. If you can control that force sufficiently, you will be able to stand on it, lift or hit things with it, use it as a shield, move yourself with it, and create interdimensional pockets with it. That last is rather a leap conceptually, but it is the thing that makes you Bios so useful.]]

"So Cycogs can’t do this?" Since lan seemed as much an equivalent for soul as it was for magic, I wasn’t sure how seriously I should treat this lack.

[[Even if we wear a Bio, we don’t produce lan.]]

"Wear?"

[[The link gives your assigned Cycog sufficient access to control your Core Unit, if you’re not currently in residence. If you, for instance, logged out of the game while sitting out on the concourse, I’d walk you back into storage.]]

"Let’s not do that," I said firmly.

[[The suppression modal units are more comfortable for us,]] Dio said, blithely unconcerned by my reaction. [[Core units are very specific to the individual Bio, while most Modals are a general fit, and Synths designed more specifically for our use. You’ll never feel quite as comfortable in a suppression Modal as you do in your Core. Now, if you’re recovered, we’ll proceed.]]

"This world is going to take some getting used to," I said, but obediently reactivated my focus.

Although it wasn’t easy, I straightforwardly liked playing with lan, and ran determinedly through a long series of shapes exercises, until I started finding that the blue haze had thinned to the point where I could barely see it.

[[Break time,]] Dio said. [[At this level, your lan will recover from depletion after ten hours of game time. Until you are ready for further exercises, you are free to explore, or participate in non-lan Challenges.]]

I deactivated my focus again, and flopped onto the couch, jelly-like and sweating freely. Skills in MMOs usually involved a button appearing on a toolbar that, when you clicked it, caused your character to perform a series of fancy moves that involved no actual player effort. This had been a lot of effort. But, unlike clicking a button, this felt like it belonged to me. All while not being real at all.