The Starfighter Invitation

33 fingerprints

I’d chosen to log out in a sleep pod rather than Soup, mainly because I couldn’t forget the idea that there were probably dozens of Core Units all in the same vat—or would be if not for the conveniences of simulations. I definitely preferred waking up curled comfortably on my side, rather than with that hit of mint-chill Soup. And the pod had the added advantage that, instead of immediately stepping out into the staging area, I could lie there thinking some more.

Eventually, I decided asking questions was a better option to anticipating answers.

"Dio, given that Bios body hop, and Cycogs are little motes of light, does The Synergis have any definitive way of telling individuals apart?"

One of those motes of light drifted through the ceiling of my sleep pod.

[[Yes. It took us a long time to reach that point, however. Bio lan was something we could sense, but not initially measure, and much of the way it functions is still a process of discovery for us. But we can now clearly identify individual Bios from their lan. Uniquely identifying Cybercognates was an easier task, but has its own issues, because we change more completely than Bios. For instance, a system administrator who had put valuables under Self Lock later divided into two, and neither of the shards were recognised by the lock.]]

"Can you tell each other apart just by, uh, looking?"

[[Those who know me best would likely be able to pick me out of a crowd by my…call it aura. But that is not a definitive thing, any more than our voices are impossible to imitate.]] There was an unmistakeable thread of amusement in that last sentence. This was definitely Dio, and a Dio who had clearly guessed that I’d been upset, that I’d logged out hastily because I’d been able to tell voices apart.

"Why isn’t the Construct Cycog good enough at pretending to be you that it didn’t use your laugh?"

[[Oh, we do that deliberately. It makes us uncomfortable, for one thing, to have pretend selves to that level. But we also like to see if Bios notice.]]

"I should have known."

[[The intention is not to distress, however,]] Dio went on, in a less entertained tone. [[I apologise for that. The denial of service attacks are testing our connections.]]

I shrugged, because it had been silly of me to be bothered in any way. I was not going to describe to Dio the sensation of walking through a crowd holding on to your mother’s bag, and then looking up to see a bemused stranger.

[[I learned a great deal about you from that last session. I had not previously noted the leadership tendencies.]]

"Is that leading? I’m hardly the only one out there who wants to avoid a pointless waste of time arguing, so I figured there’d be other people there who just wanted to get on with it. Did you decide I was bad with people because I shut off all my communication feeds?"

[[Maybe.]]

I shook my head, deciding not to try to explain that I was fine with people, so long as I could take extended breaks from them, and was not currently made of fail. Speaking of which…

Arlen and Imoenne were either fully anon, or not logged in yet. Silent was on Mars, exploring the area outside the Challenge location, and I chatted to him and other guild members as they logged back in and dissected The Interview down to the same conclusion my parents had reached.

[g] The big question being which of the many possibilities they’re preparing us for.

[g] Ranging from The Last Starfighter to Matrix?

[g] I’m leaning toward Starfighter: they need lan pilots (or lan something) and this is the equivalent of carefully planted arcade games, training us in the basics, sorting the wheat from the chaff, in preparation for a recruitment offer.

[g] I don’t see why they couldn’t do that openly. If they, say, are aliens that have lost their lan pilots and need some more to get home, or are AIs that have developed locally and want to travel off-world? Why not just tell us that and ask for volunteers?

[g] Because setting up an almost plausible MMO is less of a headache than officially dealing with governments?

[g] Because it’s fun to shove their noodle future down our throats. Half recruitment, half giant psych project.

[g] Your definitive take on The Synergis revolves around what’s between your legs?

[g] When every second Challenge takes my bits away? Yeah.

[g] I’ve got it! I’ve got it! We’ve in an Enclave. It’s like the movie The Village, but we’re the ones in the village. We’re further into the future than we know and the game’s a way of transitioning us to the reality of now.

Arlen and Imoenne popped up in the guild active list, so I pushed guild chat away, and suggested a spot in the staging area to meet up, then went to look for the nearest toilet.

The bathrooms were not divided by species or sex, but by size, except for a room that had an airlock, and was no doubt intended for the species that didn’t breathe some sort of oxygen/nitrogen mix. The area that was intended for my size species was unremarkable, offering stalls with floor or bench options for waste, and water and wipes for cleansing, along with a separate sub-room provided with a Soup vat and mirrors. There was a small teal-coloured humanoid in there, using a tiny curry comb to smooth and then make patterns in the plush-short hair that covered all of her visible skin. Her hide? I washed my hands, trying not to stare while wondering if this was a player with a great modal, or an NPC.

The idea of asking someone who was not a player prying questions about her skin made me feel awkward, so I left. Even though all the NPCs would be either Constructs or, probably, Dio, it felt strangely intrusive to talk to them.

The meeting point I’d suggested was again next to this stage’s wall mosaic. The same gorgeous array of colour, but now I could make out figures amongst the swirls. Brown tiles resolved into a featureless human, and the silvery multi-columnar shape must be the methane-breathing species.

I searched out the third shape and, just as Silent arrived, found a small round animal almost lost in the curlicues of the mosaic. He murmured a greeting and considered the mosaic.

"The picture adds a species with each stage. Darashi, Vvv, uh, Vssf, and human so far."

"Are Type Threes called humans in The Synergis?"

[[Llura.]]

Dio rarely spoke up uninvited in conversations between Bios, so I was as much surprised by the contribution as the name.

"Is that the name Type Threes call themselves, or what other species call us?"

[[Guess,]] Dio said, with a ripple of laughter, then sank through the mosaic.

"I’m willing to bet it’s not something complimentary, then," I said to Silent.

"I see you’ve a quirky sort of Cycog. Have you noticed their personalities often match their names?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Cycogs people have called HAL are very calm and often unhelpful. The Datas are Pinocchios all lit up with curiosity. The GLaDOSes ooze passive-aggressive snark."

"Two out of three of those personalities are liable to kill you."

"I played it safe and called mine Bishop. But it’s the sheer adaptability that makes it so difficult to believe this game doesn’t involve…something more." He laughed. "Listen to me. I’m usually one of the guild’s cynics."

"The GDG filling in the blanks concept works for personalities, though. If you called someone HAL, you’d expect at least a few pod bay door references. I liked the idea it was my mind producing this stuff in a solo GDG, but I’m far less comfortable with the idea that the players are building a full virtual experience by being fed prompts."

"I foresee several dozen theses on perceived reality, if that’s the way this game functions. But I don’t believe Ryzonart. And the Cycogs are…convincing."

"And The Synergis so alluring."

He laughed. "I’m so used to dystopias that I can’t help but look for the cracks. Is the face they’re showing us true, or something mocked up to draw us in?"

He glanced at me, frowning, and I wondered if he was also tripping over a stranger’s face to go with a familiar voice.

"Whether The Synergis is true, or just a really enjoyable game, I’m worried there’s a price," I admitted.

Silent nodded. "It does feel like a honey-baited trap. Maybe the Cycogs really are here to steal…I can’t believe I’m saying this. My Catholic upbringing stirring."

"Lan equates soul, and they cultivate Bios for their lan? If there turns out to be a theological explanation for this, well, I guess I’d be impressed by such a slick technological approach to soul-stealing."

"And then run like hell."

"By then I guess I’d be in Hell," I said, and then added: "But if this all turns out to really be Purgatory, I want another ending," and perhaps only imagined I heard a faint, now-familiar laugh.