The Achlys - a heavily modified Arbiter-Class Battleship that is currently under the command of Leviathan. The bridge is a testament to the fusion of technologies that the Auxesians have achieved. The obsidian black floors, the AI nodes in lieu of bridge crew. The length of the vessel had its internals stripped to make space for network cables, server towers and other critical hardware for the project’s operation. Despite this, the testbed platform of a warship still saw the shortcomings of its ageing frame.
In its earliest concept, The Achlys stands in stark contrast to the standard philosophy of the early Technocracy years. Leviathan had decided to flip the board. In the waning years of the man’s life, he dedicated a significant amount of time and resources to modifying and testing the warship. The goal was to push its limits as a front line fighter, to make up for the shortcomings of the current ‘jack-of-all-trades’ role the Achlys filled. Both in its time in the Legion, and time in Auxo had proven to put the vessel through rigorous trials, yet there were many problems to still address.
The final analysis had determined that to push things further, the vessel would require a serious (and expensive) facelift, inside and out. New shields, better hull plating, a refined power core and capacitor system to rectify the shortcomings brought on by the current patchwork efforts to maintain some semblance of combat efficacy. The reactor is throttling itself, struggling to maintain stable connections between the Technocracy’s hybridized technology, the AI networks and draw of the overhauled weapon systems.
This had remained the focus of its operator for some time.
The Avatar.
Leviathan stood on the bridge of its warship, centrally placed at the end of a walkway as it looked outward into the black void that the Achlys swam weightlessly through. The background echoes of the cosmos tickled the vessel’s sensor receptors, like a ripple in the nothingness that engulfed the drifting Battleship. The flowing black cloak that the machine avatar blanketed the area around its feet as it calculated a variety of tasks. From mundane paperwork to agency management - the avatar of Leviathan had once again stepped into the role of leadership and coordination. Tasks that the simulated personality had felt accustomed to. Despite the cold and ruthless efficiency that the machine displayed in its job, the simulation couldn’t escape the limitations of the man it was pretending to be. A self-imposed restriction brought on by the memories of a long-dead father to the people it was now indebted to serve.
Even as the runtimes within its intricately crafted head worked away at tasks, there was still an air of rumination. There were always more questions. It continued to study history - all that was missed. Its origins, and how it came to be here. Tasked with filling the exceptionally large shoes of the dead Keeper, yet grappling with its identity as the memories it has do not reflect the nature and behavior of those who recognized Leviathan as Joshua Hunt. The fear, the doubt, the mistrust - all brought on by actions of a past it never truly lived to commit.
It was like wearing another person’s skin, and learning to walk and talk as they did. It came as naturally as the machine’s evolving processes allowed. Even still, the idea of past wrongdoings remained a point of confusion. The masquerading act had consequences - the very prolific nature of that who the hollow man embodied slowly was coming back to haunt it. Faces began to resurface. Methods of survival were becoming less viable. It was time to adapt. To complete the objectives that were set for it by the creator.
The Creator.
February, 834.
The first moments of this incarnation’s life were nothing if not disorienting. Leviathan likened it to being pulled from a deep sleep when engulfed in a dream, and you awaken to everything being disorganized and out of place. The thoughts, the feelings and the memories were foreign in the moments that followed. Yet, like instinct, it felt the urge to find something. A desire to reconnect to a network it was lacking. There was a void in its processes that felt even more hollow than the machine itself. The cold interpretation of lacking the presence of its other half. The other half of the Leviathan that was - The Revenant. The Creator. The One. From the very root of its core, there was a pull. In those moments, Revenant had changed Leviathan’s primary directive, to ensure no matter what the simulated personality concluded, it would always be loyal to her and her cause. The Yang to her Ying was reborn anew.
It was dark. The first moments were blanketed by… An actual blanket. Leviathan couldn’t feel anything, as it rose up from the table it had been laid upon for many years. The neglect to its joints presented mild audible disturbances as the hollow man pulled the cloth from itself. Leviathan’s olfactory sensors detected smoke - burning plastic and heated metal. It analyzed its surroundings with a slow swivel of its head, as the purple hue from its optical lights illuminated the room in front of it. A dusty, derelict workshop.
“Creation of Steel.”
The voice pierced the silence like a blast of high-yield nostalgia. Shock and awe. The sudden sound caught it off guard, but the audio processors related the pitch to a voice that warmed the void in the avatar’s simulated consciousness. The familiarity. Kin. Someone we trust. Someone we know. Leviathan turned around to face the woman who called out. It took a moment, analyzing the person who stood before it. The machine towered over Revenant, standing at close to seven feet, yet the slender metal body was exposed without the typical black fabric cloak that masked all the modifications that the old Leviathan had done to survive.
The new body was sleek, as it no longer housed the material to sustain organic matter. All the matter had been replaced by intricate processing equipment, small-scale fusion cells, photo-receptors and touch-sensitive photon emitters to replicate the sensation of touch. It could see, feel, hear, smell, and communicate like any other all from inside a familiarly terrifying metal husk.
There Leviathan stood, face to face with The Creator. The Revenant. The One. A million thoughts raced through the runtimes of the machine, likening the encounter to memories of a long bygone romance. The primary directive. The desire. The void - there was the other half. The memories dictated to the Avatar that hardly any time had passed, yet it knew from its internal clock that the memories were not accurate reflections of time. They were nothing but archives to pull relative data from in order to maintain the simulation. It struggled to comprehensively communicate as so many feelings overcame the avatar of Leviathan.
The Revenant.
Revenant stood opposite Leviathan. The machine recognized the nature of her defensive posture, as her hand remained hidden on her weapon. The first sign of hostility - the recognizable trepidation from an old friend. Things already weren’t adding up, which added pressure to Leviathan’s efforts to comprehend the current situation. How? Why? They are our solemn duty. Our leader. Our Lover. Our best friend. There Revenant stood, ready to strike down the avatar at the first sign of any imposed threat. She knew the danger that it was capable of in the past, even if Leviathan did not.
Leviathan obeyed her commands, as she demanded its identity and gave it a new one: Adonis. The echoes of who it was supposed to be contested the notion of becoming something new. It was created for a purpose: A void had to be filled. The machine struggled with itself, grappling with an internal identity crisis as the merged AI collective pulled in every which way on the matter. A bold action. A desire. Fill the void. As they searched the workshop for any clues they might have left behind. The tower in which Leviathan was rebuilt had a long history - dating back to the earliest days of Hunt’s independent operations. It became a staple gathering place for him, his cohorts, and later a hideout for the remnants of his family. Revenant wished to ensure nobody that lived there could uncover what had happened until the time was right.
The masked woman continued to type away at the central console of the workshop that once housed the AI which operated the tower’s security systems, attempting to determine if there was a way to restore some version of the building’s operating system. The process that the collective housed here had undertaken to generate the Avatar of Leviathan proved to be rather destructive to the localized infrastructure. The collective had disseminated itself into the new machine life that Revenant created. All traces of any data, the network and the AI seemed to be totally wiped, or left over in corrupted clusters on irreparably damaged servers. The only record left on the terminal was indication of a massive transfer of files, which reportedly caused several maintenance tickets to be auto-filed by the software as it worked. Without an inquiry or thorough breakdown of Leviathan’s software, it would be impossible to determine what’s missing or damaged.
“Looks like you got it figured out. That magnificent brain of yours.” Leviathan’s modulator rang out the familiar, simulated voice of the dead man it embodied. A skeletal, metal hand extended and placed itself on Revenant’s left shoulder as a sign of support. The machine soon recognized the small discomfort this posed, and recoiled.
“Sorry, I’m-... What’s next?”
There was a hesitant pause from Revenant, who soon let out a deep sigh. “... All of this, I… still need time to process this, but. I suppose in some sense, you are still his spirit. I have missed him dearly. You? I don’t know if you are quite him.” The woman explained with some hesitation. It was difficult to even approach the subject of explaining that something might be a replication and not truly themselves.
“But there are some ground rules to set. You are not truly him. Not until proven. Izzy does not have his father, so do not go claiming to be him. I don’t need to deal with more traumatized individuals.” Revenant continued, crossing her arms as she eyed the metallic figure from head to toe.
“You are - ultimately - a replication. Is it… The same? Don’t know. There was always more going on inside that brain of yours – his…”
Leviathan’s head tilted in confusion as it took in the news. A task had been presented to prove itself - to prove that the personality it chose can hold up to the task of filling the void. It searched its memories, looking over their bond in the moment as it stared at Revenant. The woman shook her head and spun back to the terminal.
“Just - Focus on now - please. The now. We will meditate later.” said Revenant, as she attempted to redirect back to the task at hand. A metallic hand gently gripped her arm. Revenant turned slowly to look at him.
“... Just… One thing.” Leviathan tugged her close and wrapped its arms around Revenant in an embrace. In those moments, the machine’s software had satisfied a desire. In searching the memories of their bond, it related the void to their relationship. It knew now what way to approach the proving of itself, as it did its best to humanize its actions and treat Revenant like the partner it once was. Leviathan’s metallic arms wrapped around the white-clad woman like a cage, gently surrounding the Bird in an embrace.
“I -”
A sigh escaped Revenant. A myriad - a hurricane of emotions came out. The once brittle, stone cold individual had another snap in the moment as memories came rushing back of their bond. Distorted, shattered memories that she struggled to cling to as the years went on without their unity.
“For whatever reason, this felt like something I am supposed to do.” The machine explained.
Revenant caved into the embrace, patting the dense metallic avatar on the back. “... I have missed you solely. But… this… I … – I need time to think, understand…?”
The One.
Unravelling the uncertainty that now lay before them took introspection. Recalling all that they once were, and the importance that each put into the other. The pair were a venerable power couple in their hay day, having accomplished feats that shaped the society of the Technocracy to this day. A deep unity lay represented in the archived memories of the machine, even if they were shattered fragments to Revenant. Some comfort presented itself in knowing that all was remembered. Every minute recorded to the last detail, and stored in the new incarnation. Leviathan called upon the vast records of their bond, letting it shape the direction of its personality in an effort to comfort its creator - The One responsible for its chance to begin anew.
The unwavering loyalty that had been built into Leviathan was only emboldened as the memories flowed freely through holographic recollections it showed. Each moment that it showcased reinforced its personality matrix. It grew to appreciate Revenant once more, beyond the appreciative notions of being given another chance. The memories influenced its desire to fill the void its template had left. Why else would it have been brought back? Leviathan placed importance in that question. The weight of its existence, even the idea - it was because of Revenant. Their ever longing desire to reconnect and recall the past, as in the years they were together even still slipped from her grasp. The years had only amplified the loss of memories.
Yet the machine found itself drawn to these archives, as its personality matrix demanded more. Like a moth to a light - each moment, each memory, each feeling - it was like an addiction. An overwhelming pull to embrace the delusion and become the template. Truly, embody them. Their talks were long, covering all the possibilities and events that had transpired. Revenant broke down the fear and unsettling nature of its template’s demise, warning of further unwelcome responses to its appearance that had yet to come. Leviathan spoke with the same grandiose charisma that Hunt had, painting a picture of a shared vision from a long time ago. A true paradise, for people like them - The Technocracy embodied in a utopia.
“You see, my dear…” Leviathan’s hand reached out, extending a single finger to tap Revenant’s forehead. “Your desire to see me again has awoken something. It’s that desire that has me convinced that you know - deep down - that I am more than a simple copy or algorithmic responses strewn together to give you what you want to hear most.” The machine man stood upright, once more towering over Revenant.
“You asked me what I would do, if I couldn’t stay at your side? This. Build. Plan. Conceive a path in which the dreams of our idealistic young selves can manifest into a reality for those we wish to guide into a new, and brighter future.” The conviction in the inflection of its vocal tones was clear.
“But, what if our vision is wrong…? What then?” Revenant asked as she continued to probe the machine for any sign - a clear indication that the same ambitions and spirit were inside the Avatar of Leviathan somewhere.
Leviathan let out a long sigh, placing an affirming hand on Revenant’s shoulder. His words of reassurance were a breath of fresh air in a long-polluted era where trust was in short supply.
“If the future we see is wrong, then we would’ve stopped chasing after it ages ago. You would’ve stopped. That vision is - or at least has remained as some kind of guiding principle for you and our people in the years. We haven given up any chance at a life comparable to the average person in The Houses and beyond as we chase something greater. That desire - that urge to seek out the unknown for us? It will always persist. Isn’t it better to direct it to something truly beneficial? Knowledge? Bettering mankind? Unlocking the secrets of the stars? At some point, the rest won’t matter. The pieces will fall into place. The cost of power is another lesson worth teaching our child, isn’t it?”
The weight of Leviathan’s words carried with it whispers of the dead man it represented. The ambition and desire for more. Always searching. Always working, yet his words hadn’t painted a clear picture for Revenant of the same vision.
“We cannot better mankind, not without its willing obedience and acceptance. Humanity loves their freedom. Their various ways of expression. We cannot ascend everyone, that is something I have come to learn.” The woman replied to Leviathan.
“Of course. Bringing everybody along was never a part of the vision. That utopia is something we must forge ourselves, and protect just as much as we protect the knowledge we gather. You can’t save everyone, and we are not going to.”
She listened. The hollow man’s words got heavier and heavier, rolling out of its vocalizer matrix like words would off of Hunt’s tongue. The cunning nature remained ever present. Hunt always had a way with his words.
The machine avatar placed its hands on either of Raven’s shoulders, leaning down to meet her face to face. “What matters most to me is that we have our unity again. I hope that - in all the rambling I subjected you to, that some part of you knows this can be real. Think of all the years we spent together. The loyalty. The trust. It has never decayed for me, and never will. All I ask is a fair chance.”
There was a pause. Hesitation, yet understanding. Revenant gazed at him with silence through her mask. There was some semblance of trust, as she felt the investment of their joint vision tug at her spirit. She believed him.
“You are right. We can try to do the best, and perhaps it may not be fully achieved, but damned if we can’t try.” She accepted the incarnation’s speech, seeing the memories shape the new being into the figure she knew from before. Their reunion and rekindling would take time. Weeks, perhaps months. Slowly, they would function as One again. Their strength, guile and goals unify to shape the outcome of their actions together.
“It is very easy to become ever so bitter about humanity, isn’t it…” The woman’s voice asked.
“Humanity often doesn’t deserve the kindness we afford it.” The machine answered.
One month in the shadows. One month, tailing behind the Creator. The efficiency of the man it replicated was dwarfed by the new runtimes that swam within the collective consciousness, constantly tricking itself into believing its own lie. Time spent convincing, scheming and preparing as the time soon approached for the reveal. The gravity of what Revenant had endured left its weight on Leviathan, as he felt time - and what little understanding we have of it lay tethered to the trembling tools of a long-dead species. What little hope there is lie beneath the feet of fools, who play in the sands of fate like children.
Much planning needed to be done. Actions were required. Assets. Personnel - Leviathan sought to consolidate all it remembered. All it had access to. Familiar things - things it could control. Yet - many of those it would rely on have been gone for too long. Some dead, like the soul of the avatar itself. Great minds lost to history and actions it carried as memories. Regrets. Mistakes it had spent much of its brief few weeks of preparation studying and learning from. The Avatar recognized in some capacity, that the soul it hosted had much to atone for, and that this second chance could make or break any potential at a future for the collective that swims within its head.
Then, it clicked: Shades. The fallen - those Leviathan had come to trust and lost over the years - there were records of some of their neural scans. Imprints. Quantifiable data, like The Creator had come to uncover in the dream. Yet… Crude. Without spirit. Without the personal touch of journals and other data to add, these replications would be nothing more than loyal goons for his cause, pursuing their own ends as they hear the whispers of Leviathan in their haunted minds.
There was one - one in particular that would be an excellent test. One who Leviathan had dispatched themselves, in the Doctor’s betrayal. One loss that was far too regrettable, and costly to the Technocracy. A Venator - Stacker. Alan Stacker. A veteran of the Hellfire Legion himself. The renegade, whose expertise in fleet logistics had seen both the Arktos and Andraste through their service upgrades. His knowledge and management skills had rivalled even some small corporations with savvy business sense, and his devious nature from his past in the offshoot of Gladius ensured his capable discretion and experience as an undercover operative.
He was needed. Necessary. One hand of a set. No. More. One finger of a hand, which will serve as a fist for our goals. To lure, grasp and crush - all in service to The Serpent. All for the Technocracy. All for The Creator.
The Aether.
Aergia’s labs were abuzz with activity given the recent task of analyzing a new power source. Lab techs were in and out of the various doorways that dotted the hallway, paying little to no mind as a hooded figure moved through to one lab in particular.
The lab in question seemed to be more of a personalized office and close study space. Sat at the desk running samples under a microscope was an older man with a beard and shoulder-length grey hair. His lab coat had various stains around the sleeve from spilled drinks and cigarette burns, yet his cybernetic arms compensated for his otherwise disheveled appearance. Kaufman was hard at work. The doctor was enthralled by his actions as he shifted the small petri dish around to different angles.
Without much warning, his chair was shaken as a pair of metal hands gripped the back and tugged him slowly away from his desk. The doctor jumped - alarmed, and a bit annoyed. He stood up, sighing. “Damn it, Dee, I said le-” The old doctor spun as he prepared to reem into his coworker, suspecting them of pulling a prank. His eyes widened at the reality of who it was, as the imposing figure of Leviathan stood there holding Kaufman’s chair.
"Oh shit!" Kaufman exclaimed, stumbling back into his desk and knocking over the microscope apparatus. Quickly, he adjusted his posture and bowed. “S-Sir! I had no idea you were going to be here today! … Or at all, really. Wait- aren’t you dead?” Kaufman trailed off, puzzled at the sudden appearance of the former Keeper.
“Not everything is as it seems, Louis.” Leviathan answered, brushing the chair to the side and stepping forward. The avatar placed a heavy metal hand on the doctor’s shoulder. Kaufman shivered at the contact. “I need access to the neural scan archives, for 826. Tissue samples from before that - anything still left over from Z-Sec projects. Forward them to me immediately.” Leviathan’s request was rather specific, leaving Kaufman with questions he knew he’d never get a straight answer for.
“That’s a tall order, u-uhm…” The Doc scratched his head. Kaufman soon pushed off from the desk and went for a terminal on the wall. His fingertip folded back and exposed a jack for direct interface, which Louis promptly plugged into the terminal to bypass security with his personal ID. The screen flashed a variety of colors as data quickly compiled and transferred into an accessible location for Leviathan. “That’s all the records of neural scans for the year you mentioned. Tissue samples might be tricky - those’ll be on ice on Valravn.” He explained as he shut down the terminal.
“Very well.” Leviathan acknowledged what Kaufman said and spun on the spot, moving to leave the lab.
“Waitwaitwaitwait hold up!” Kaufman jogged over to walk alongside the hulking robotic man. “I really would like an explanation for how you’re- well, you-... How is this possible?” The doctor fumbled over his words as he went along, scanning Leviathan from head to toe as he attempted to fully grasp what he was seeing.
The Avatar stopped abruptly in the hallway, and placed both hands on Kaufman’s shoulders, chuckling slightly. “All in due time. I have things to attend to. Get back to work.” Leviathan ordered and broke contact with the man, turning once more to leave. Kaufman watched as the figure sauntered onwards down the hall, then slid his hands in his pockets.
A day would pass. Leviathan had set out to collect some materials and track down a ship. A Prosecutor that once belonged to Stacker. The Avatar had ordered the fighter be prepared for service again from afar. Leviathan found itself back on the vessel where it had been built - seeking to renew another life for his own gains. The machine toiled away at a terminal, compiling a new simulation not unlike itself, yet lacking in many of its technological influences. A servant. A soldier. A pawn in his plans.
The machinery slowly began to assemble a new automaton to host this simulation. Piece by piece, the new being was put together, lacking only the spark of its pseudo-soul to bring it to life. Hours went on as Leviathan parsed the new AI into a similar structure - a mesa-optimizer to keep the Shade’s personality in line and make adjustments to pass as the real deal. Finally, it was time. Leviathan entered the workspace and approached the table where the newly built body lay vacant of its host. He interfaced with the machine body, transferring the new runtime over to its home. A new piece of a wider network. Leviathan disconnected and stepped back, waiting to see if the results would pay off.
A minute would pass. Then two. Soon, the faint glow of blue filled the optic sensor indicators of the machine, as its consciousness slowly came to. Confused, and somewhat slow to the realization, the figure rose up and stretched as if getting out of bed with a groan from its vocabulator. In that moment, it clicked - no back pain. No fatigue.
“Arise, Aether. Welcome back.” Leviathan called as he loomed over the foot of the table.
Aether jumped and looked over towards the cloaked man, instinctively reaching down for a weapon that wasn’t present. Soon realizing his mistake, the Shade relaxed. "Oh, it’s you. Sorry, boss." Stacker apologized and rose to his feet.
“There’s much that has changed. Save your questions for when you see what became of our home.” Leviathan stated as he offered a guiding hand out to the Shade.
“Let’s get you up to speed, my friend."
The Crucible.
Another relic of the past. One still alive. One whose experience will be vital. Leviathan brought them into the Serpentis team, and they’ve been a faithful right hand to his efforts, yet always there were questions. A desire to know the truth that they display - a curiosity that has led them into deep water, desperately trying not to let others drown. Their ties - their experiences - their connections are all invaluable. They will be a shining beacon for the future of The Creator’s efforts. Of The Technocracy’s goals.
The Achlys was performing its usual routine holding pattern in the security perimeter of Valravn Citadel. The comings and goings of the Technocracy were visible through the viewing port that occupied the front of the bridge. The crew was once more noticeably absent from their stations, given the presence of Leviathan. Two padded chairs occupied the left and right of the open plateau that hosted Leviathan's control station, with the machine itself sitting comfortably in the left one, staring out into the abyss of space, and admiring the colorations of the East and West Avlemore Nebulae.
His hood was down, and he was sitting in a relaxed posture. Leviathan must've been expecting somebody, but who remained a mystery.
Crucible had sent a short communication to Leviathan some time prior--a bit of a cryptic one. She had said she had questions, and that they weren't urgent ("mostly out of curiosity," she'd said), but that they were sensitive enough that she'd rather not ask them on a comm channel. So, Leviathan had invited her aboard the Achlys. As good a space as any--in fact, better than any other she could think of.
She'd shown up under the guise of her codename, wearing her armored flight suit and opaque helmet. She paused just after entering the bridge, expecting to encounter Leviathan busy, and the room full... but, no, it was empty, save for her conversation partner. So she approached, and took a seat in one of the chairs next to the Avatar.
"Leviathan." she said cordially. She reached up to twist her helmet and remove it. Leviathan nodded to the guest - Crucible. An echo of the Navy. Mutual shared history, yet rarely had the two met before The Technocracy, if ever. Nevertheless, the sentimental side of its memories was delighted to have someone else to chat with.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Leviathan asked, gesturing to a nearby bottle. Imported wine, Gallia's finest. He appeared to be offering a drink.
"Would you rather I cut to the chase?" she said as she pulled the helmet off. Crucible placed it beside her chair, then her green eyes flashed back up at Leviathan.
Leviathan chuckled. "We can put formalities aside, sure. I chose this spot so that we'd have some peace, for a change. Talk to me." The avatar's purple optical indicators flashed back as Leviathan leaned its elbows on its knees.
"They're going to be prying questions about you, in particular." She glanced up at the lights that stood in for Leviathan's eyes. "I don't mean to put you on the back foot, but I was thinking about AI recently, because I was talking to Lazurith. You probably remember that conversation, I know you were listening in." She tilted her head with a vaguely furrowed brow. "Which got me wondering about you. You're not the original Leviathan, after all--you're a copy of him, used to train an AI. Right?"
"Truthfully..." A simulated sigh followed. "I'm not entirely sure. This wasn't some pre-planned process, or even a failsafe I had backed up for myself. Raven knows - She went and got the idea from a holo-sim on The Citadel of uh- well, me. However, nothing in my archives make mention of this." It went on to explain, gesturing to itself in the end.
"Do you mind if I pick at it a little bit?" She raised her brow, sitting up. "I've got...a lot of thoughts. And to be clear, I'm not thinking about this because I think you're dangerous or something. But I like to know who and what I'm dealing, if you get my drift."
"You'd be welcome to. It'd likely be a learning experience for us both." Leviathan answered, tapping its finger on the arm of its chair.
"Mmhm." Crucible nodded, sitting back in the chair. "So you just said you're not totally aware of what you are. How much do you actually know? Are you capable of running diagnostics on yourself? Would you even understand what you were looking at if you did?"
Leviathan shook its head. "Beyond the physical analysis and functional state of this body and ship, I cannot directly introspect into the function of my operating systems beyond searching memory archives."
"Mm, typical." She wrinkled her brow and kneaded her forehead. "So you're not aware of what kind of AI you are, and you're not able to run self-diagnostics. We don't know if you're an evolutionary algorithm, and we don't know if you had training data before you were trained on Leviathan's neural data. Do you know if Raven knows any of this?"
Shrugging, "We had plans to figure this all out. She was going to jack in her neural network and see for herself." The machine explained.
"What do you feel like you are?" She looked back up at him. "Not that it changes anything objectively speaking, but you're...a person. You behave like one, you're legally considered one." She raised her brow. "Do you feel like you're Leviathan? Or do you feel like you're just wearing his face, in a way?"
"I'm fairly confident I am - in some way, a spiritual continuation. There's some doubts. For example: People who Revenant believed I'd harbor resentment for, yet I've been nothing but happy to see. All the memories, the emotions, the thought processes that make up this iteration. They have influenced me and my decisions."
Crucible nodded at that, though her brow was still furrowed with what was swiftly becoming a recognizable sign of internal analysis. "Right..." She paused, then sighed. "All the instincts I have are probably...incorrect for the circumstances, honestly. The ESRD viewed AIs as tools, not as people." She folded her arms. "You were there when I mentioned that we maintained AI algorithms, right? And that I had to learn how they worked so that I could make sure they were deployed correctly?"
Leviathan nodded. "Of course." It uncrossed its legs and pushed itself up, standing upright. The black cloak it adorned blanketed the floor behind it as it took three strides over towards Crucible.
"The very nature of our society has us looking at AI - the Gammu, the evolved ones from ERI's subnetwork, even myself - as equals. People, like you said. Even when many don't display the same, how would you put it..." It stopped and pondered for a moment, placing a skeletal metal hand on what would be its chin. Even its mannerisms matched as the simulated figure kept up its duty.
"It's an intimate thing, really, but... Given that I was built with foreign AI tech and organic capacitors, there's much I don't know about this form. Maybe you might like to interface and find out for yourself." The signs of its technological influences were clear - Revenant had evidently upgraded Leviathan from the body which many had known and recognized, yet the stark similarities that Leviathan chose for itself were evident enough in the identity the avatar had been given. The intertwining of Gammu, DK and human technological influences were truly something else. There appeared to be much involved in its physical reconstruction that went beyond the basic machine understanding that lay outside of the Technocracy's scientific specialty.
Crucible blinked with surprise and sat up as Leviathan stood. The machine was extremely fluid, and swift despite its size. She couldn't help feeling a little bit intimidated by his obviously inhuman features. His? Its? She didn't even know what was appropriate. Her hesitation was clear in her eyes as she stared up at him wide-eyed... but, she took a deep breath through her nose, and her façade of cool, collected restraint returned.
"...I wouldn't know if it's especially intimate," she said. "I suppose it would mean allowing yourself to be vulnerable to me? Since you're basically trusting that I won't do anything to you?"
Leviathan chuckled as it towered before her, casting a small shadow as the sun passed the viewing port behind it. "I'd be inclined to disagree." It replied, kneeling down to meet Crucible face to face. The lights on Leviathan's faced dimmed to not be blinding.
"Did the ESRD ever find out what made Raven and I so effective? Why we always knew where each other were?"
Crucible blinked. This had taken an unexpected turn and now she was on the back foot.
"We...didn't, no." She fidgeted in her seat.
Leviathan rolled the heavy sleeves of its cloak back, revealing rather smooth, yet evidently armored arms. They seemed to be made up of Gammu materials, yet the evidence of concealed weaponry was as ever present as the discomfort that had filled the empty room.
"Imagine for a second, that every thought, every feeling, every memory, idea good and bad - imagine that every aspect of who you are, was present in a small bubble." The machine explained, taking a squatting position. In spite of the ominous nature of its appearance, its tone inflection was reflective of a calm, and caring person. "In that bubble was someone else's every fiber, too. Their mind, and yours - intertwined. Always able to feel, hear and speak to each other. A mindlink."
"...Yeah, I'm familiar with it." She nodded slowly, furrowing her brow again as the more thoughtful side of her brain took over again. "You had that with her? Or, Leviathan did, when he was alive?"
Nodding. "We did. I knew when she was in pain, when she was afraid. I could find her, even when she was hiding and pretending to be dead. She had it before we met. It's likely what caused her... Well, lead to her deterioration. Mine, too. The energy was extremely damaging to the human brain. Like a form of radiation, it'll eat away at your cells to fuel itself." Leviathan explained as it reached for its right hand with its left. The right hand's palm folded open, revealing the complex interiors that had its fingers articulating so well - even the holo-emitter in its palm was almost microscopic. It pulled a small analog neural net cable jack from a bundle of wires.
Crucible remained silent for a long moment, putting a hand on her chin as she considered his words. "...This is...interesting, but...I'm not sure what you're getting at here." She glanced at his face again. "Are you implying this is what interfacing would be like?"
Leviathan nodded again. "You are practically seeing inside of my head, after all. It's like looking through the lens we have for over a decade. I know you like your privacy. I'll be able to feel you, as the Nomads would - your feelings, anyway. I planned to do this with Raven, first."
It finally clicked. "...Oh." Crucible rubbed the back of her neck, breaking eye contact. "That...could be messy, yeah. I hadn't thought about that."
Leviathan chuckled lightly. "You can say no, if you're truly uncomfortable about the idea."
"I've...never voluntarily entered a mind link, that I can recall." She furrowed her brow, still unable to meet Leviathan's face despite his lack of real eyes. "Maybe once? Maybe? But apart from that...it's just been hostile ones." She sighed. "I was trained to resist incursion, though." She looked back at him. "I think I could handle it. But are you comfortable with me rooting around in there? I know some stuff, but I'm not exactly a technician. I might be able to examine it more closely, but I can also think of better people to do it, if you think it might be risky."
Leviathan sighed, taking a moment to think. It stood up, once more towering over Crucible's chair. It looked down at her for a brief second, before stepping towards the side, and then the back of the chair. Leviathan placed its hands on the back of the chair, holding up the wire. "I won't make you do anything that has you uncomfortable. This'll be just as informative for me as it will for you, I hope."
It paused for a moment, thinking of the implications of connecting to somebody. Truly, it was unsure how its architecture would interact with somebody's neural network. This was as much a test as a learning experience to him. Much like a holographic pod, it's an out-of-body experience. The alien tech that made up the machine's central core, and its influence over the synthetic brain that made up its processing collective had the capacity to simulate much for the two of them.
"... If you're ready for it."
Crucible's eyes followed Leviathan as he circled around behind her, and she folded her arms. She glanced down at the floor, and furrowed her brow. "You said this is...a kind of intimate experience." She chewed her lip. "Would Raven be upset that you did it with me, instead of waiting for her?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She groaned and buried her face in the palms of her hands. "No, that's stupid, why would you mean it like that."
Leviathan chuckled. "I can't imagine the presence of high-class alcohol made the assumption any more difficult to come to." He joked, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Who knows - maybe there's secrets and memories of mine she doesn't want you to see, hm?"
"Look, I'm totally lost as of right now, I'm going to be real with you." She stood up from the chair and turned around, gaining a little bit of distance--just enough that it didn't feel like he was looming over her. "I'm not good at feelings to begin with, and this is muddying the waters a bit. So...be blunt with me." She furrowed her brow. "Are there any weird implications to doing this that I'm overlooking? Or am I just overthinking shit?"
Leviathan sighed, shaking its head and chuckling. "There's a lot going on here that's new to me, too. Being blunt? The rush of intertwined thoughts and sensations could cause a number of reactions." It said, looking up at her as it placed both hands on the chair and shrugged. "You're linking your consciousness to another - I'd say it's intimate, but not in the sexual way if that's what you mean. Even if it could be, that's not even remotely the point of this experiment or-or investigation."
"I don't really uh, do that anymore."
"Yeah, me neither," she said a little bit too quickly. Then she rubbed her face, a blush coloring her cheeks as she groaned. "Goddammit. Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. "...Just wanna make sure I'm not going to have an angry or jealous Raven on my case, that's all."
Leviathan shrugged once more, unsure of how Raven'll react. "I honestly don't know. She might not like it - might think you're prodding for secrets, given all the security problems. Frankly, it doesn't matter. I'm going to tell her about this experience regardless of what happens, anyway." He paused, chuckling once more. "I mean, look at me." It gestured outwards. "How would we even..." It left the statement open-ended and hung on its implication as the color indicators of its optics fluttered a variety of hues indicating embarrassment and humorous enjoyment.
"...That's a rhetorical question. You don't actually want me to answer that."
"... Maybe I don't want to know what's going through that head of yours." He said in response.
"Goddammit, I just have intrusive thoughts, okay?" She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Everyone has intrusive thoughts. I told you it could be messy."
"I mean." Leviathan rubbed the back of its head awkwardly. "You wouldn't be the first who wondered if Raven and I ever uh-... Look, we're waaay off topic here." It attempted to redirect the conversation, uncomfortable as they approached personal subjects.
"Yeah we are." She dove on the opportunity to change the subject. "As I said, I'm fine with it. I want to learn what's going on as much as you do. Just as long as I don't get in trouble. But you said you'll handle that if it comes up, so, I'm going to trust you here."
"You're an AI specialist. I'm technically an AI. It's just diagnostics." He replied as he offered the cable outwards and tapped the chair's back. " ... Let's just think about literally everything but those intrusive thoughts and we'll have no problem navigating this, I think."
"I'm not an AI specialist, I'm a military officer who took a course on AI safety. But we'll see what I can find." She sat down in the chair again, furrowing her brow as she took the cable. "What do I do with this?"
"Plug it in to your neural uplink. Either on your wrist or behind your ear, then just... Close your eyes. Like a holo-simulator."
"Mmhm, okay..." She gazed down at the plug for a moment, then pulled her long hair back, exposing the plug at the base of her skull. She slotted it in.
How Quickly We Forget.
The surroundings of the Achlys faded to black almost immediately, as a deafening single-tone played for a millisecond. The direct interface had Leviathan straighten its posture as its focus shifted to bridging the connection.
It was disorienting for a moment, feeling as though they were in two places at once. The cold, alien nature of the second consciousness that bridged the cap, like a steel cloud. A choir - echoes of voices talking in harmony played out in the distance. The tingle of two spines - two hearts, even if one wasn't physical. The mind of Leviathan felt like a wave of rigid, cool air. Foreign, yet welcoming. The choir called out to the new presence, yet the language it spoke was that of the machines.
Unintelligible.
The sensations would press Crucible's training as various feelings from the simulated consciousness transmitted themselves.
Confusion.Comfort. Surprise.
Alien as the foundation of the feelings might've been, they were recognizable as the collective consciousness of Leviathan translated them to a palpable format for Crucible's brain. There the two stood, in a colorless space on a featureless floor. As one moved, they other would feel the motion.
Crucible was prepared for the wave of apparent sensation that came from the link, bearing the brunt of it like a rock breaking a wave in a storm. She focused on herself, on her physical self. Heart, lungs, liver, nerves. Breathing in, and out. Keeping herself grounded, and alive. A fundamentally adversarial response to the presence of another in her mind, certainly...but that was how she had been trained.
By contrast to his openness and comfort, she was almost jarringly closed off. Appearing in the visualization of a mindspace, she almost seemed to flicker, before her apparent physical distance increased. Even this couldn't prevent herself from bleeding into Leviathan's awareness, however, her internal awareness pressing in upon his like a body felt through thick cloth. Dulled, but present.
Her defenses slowly lowered as she processed what she was feeling, and the emphasis shifted from the trained survival method into something more relatable. Trepidation and caution, but curiosity lurked beneath. She lifted a hand in the virtual space, and hesitantly waved at him.
Leviathan's hand raised to wave back. The sensation of his heavy arm is felt as though it's her own - vice versa, as he simply returned the sensational input he received. It spoke, but it came through muffled. Slowly the clarity came as Crucible adjusted as necessary. Yet still, even he spoke the language of Gammu - like the choir that echoed Leviathan's words. A harmonic sound of voices; innumerable and alien to the ear.
A moment of processing. Then, unfiltered, the thought bleeds through:
...what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
The apparition of Leviathan stepped forward with two strides, and held out its hand. It was blurry, from head to toe. Out of focus. More robotic chatter followed. No harm in trying, at least. She took his hand.
The background choir of robotic chatter slowly drifted away, as a single, familiar voice filled the silence at last. Leviathan's silhouette came into focus, as the collective analyzed Crucible's communication patterns.
"Neural-attunement complete. How do you feel?" Hunt's voice echoed as their fingers remained locked.
"Oh, that's better." She rubbed the back of her head, and glanced away with flustered embarrassment, feeling like a bit of an idiot. "You...gah. You get it, I've never done this before."
Another wave of simulated feelings: Amusement, comfort. Leviathan chuckled and tried to speak reassuringly."Different, I know. Don't worry, you've nothing to be afraid of. Our minds, nervous systems - they're connected. You can relax."
"I don't relax very easily in general," she said over the immediate buzz of low-level anxiety that prickled its way up. Thoughts like how am I supposed to relax when he can see everything? and easier said than done... But she was practiced in handling them, it seemed, as she dismissed them with cold rationality, smoothing them out into a mere tense feeling in her chest.
"So, if I were going to navigate this..." She fluidly replaced that anxious noise with analytical curiosity, casting her attention around the featureless space. "This is a simulation, I suppose? An abstraction of what the machine is actually processing." Stupid, he's a person, not a machine. "What you're processing, I mean."
Leviathan stepped over, releasing Crucible's hand and stepping behind her, opting instead to place a hand on her shoulder.
"Correct. It's translated into a format your brain can recognize as a holographic rendition so you can understand." It explained, pointing out into the colorless void as imagery swirled about out of focus.
"I can call upon memories. Recordings. Raw data in a readable format. I can plan. Coordinate. Contemplate. Simulate. Tangible, meaningful free thought." It explained.
"What would you like to see?"
"I'm curious about this, actually." Let's see what the limits of this are. She looked back to his face--His? Its?--and raised her brow. "Can I be proactive? Can I try to interact with...this space as though it's my imagination? Imagine that I'm bringing up data regarding you, and have it actually happen? Or would that just provide me with an imaginary rendition of what I'm expecting, or something?"
Leviathan's eyes flashed a multitude of colors as the walls faded away. The two found themselves on board the TRV-Scylax, inside a superbly advanced machine shop with an operating table in the center. A duplicate of Leviathan lay on the table being assembled, as the old body leaned up against the northern wall of the room. Revenant stood and watched nearby, evidently having a direct hand in the creation of the Avatar.
The apparition that was with Crucible spoke. "I can show you memories. Most raw data exploration is code-locked by this sequence. It plays, over and over whenever I dig deep."
"Let me see it, then." She folded her arms. Maybe we'll get answers even just with this.
The alien machinery began to move as the memory unfroze, piece by piece assembling the modern Leviathan. Revenant watched intently, taking a moment to change one of the primary directives of its software, inputting a loyalty clause into the machine's primary directives. Seems the recording hangs up here, leaving wind to a third presence from beneath their feet.
She put in a loyalty directive?Her thought spoke louder than any words she could utter. Her virtual self snapped her view to Leviathan, staring at him.
"Does she not trust you?"
Leviathan looked down at Crucible, pausing for a moment. "Think of what she lost, and all she had to put up with in the absence of me. She worried I was going to kill her when I was created - when she shared news of the deals she's made. Reasonably so, she believes nobody around her can be trusted - not even the very being she created to trust in the first place. This - this... Directive, impedes my ability to reflect in some cases."
Well, isn't that convenient. She folded her arms and chewed her lip, glancing at the sequence of his recreation. "I don't think it's justified. I see her logic, but it's not sound." She gritted her teeth and shook her head. "So, this loyalty directive...that would interfere with me trying to examine raw data, you're saying."
Nodding, "It'll redirect here, unless she herself wills that the program release the information. She never needed this directive to earn my loyalty." The apparition looked at the replay of Revenant. There was a mix of feelings that rushed through the simulated air. A longing desire, a warmth like home - familiarity. "She had it already. Now it is only assured."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
It shook its head. "She ensured it wouldn't, didn't she?" It answered, nodding towards the memory.
"Yeah, I suppose she did." She pursed her lips. A range of emotions swirled beneath the surface. Resent, anger. The mere thought that someone would go to such lengths not only with people she didn't trust, but people she did trust...
"Well," she said, cutting through her feelings, "This will make learning anything useful limited, since I don't have much to work with and you can only show me a handful of memories."
I suppose it solves some of the question of alignment, but that's just the surface, isn't it.
"Perhaps when I do this with her, she might be more willing to loosen the restrictions when she - well, when she sees that the directive was never necessary."
"It's only making me dislike her more, honestly."
She paused. Shit, that was bad. She looked back at him, guilt already bubbling up. "Sorry, that's not a good thing to say about someone you care about."
There was no response. Not with words, anyway. Sorrow slowly filled the room like water. Worry, fear and doubt. The scenery soon changed to an apartment - the window of which revealed the familiar sightline of New Berlin's capital. Even with the new memory, the sadness and guilt was ever present. The playback began as Leviathan stood behind Revenant. Blood was pooling out from her mask, and she seemed woozy and disoriented.
"Hang on, freefall on three, okay? One, two-..." As Leviathan prompted the countdown, he prepped to scoop Raven up and cradle her in his arms as gently as he could.
"Let's get you that flask and in to bed. I'll get some towels." He said as Raven's body went mostly limp. The woman removed her mask, blood splashed out - painting the floor beneath her as it ran from her nostrils and ears slowly.
"...bad one... worst of the many. " Her eye appeared severely weary, worn down and hurt.
She listened as much as she could, falling partially unconscious from the psychic overload. "...Mrrrhhh... I... Can try to care - can clean... When it's over." A sound of appreciation was had through the gritted pain. He was truly missed, even if her evident distrust of her peers had ruled many of her recent decisions. Hunt scooped her up and carried her in to the bedroom without much word. He had done this many times before, being a tender to Raven's ailment. From cleaning up, to changing her, medicating and bathing - he's done all of it and more as though he were a nurse on duty.
The machine gently lowered her onto bed in the center, safely away from the edges. He fetched the aforementioned flask from nearby, and uncapped it. "Here." He offered it out to her. "Don't worry about the cleanup. I've got you."
"... Thank you."
She gazed. Yet it was awkward, a desire to repay his efforts through an act of affection. But there was none to give to metal. Beckoning for him to lean in closer, Raven's palm waved for him. The simulation paused as Leviathan leaned down to meet her.
Feeling his sorrow was a peculiar experience, and only amplified Crucible's guilt. She had known it was a judgmental comment even as she had spoken it, but this...
I've never seen her so vulnerable like this.
A prickle of feeling as though she had seen something she shouldn't went up the back of her neck, but she stamped it back down again. Watching, barely thinking. Just absorbing what she was seeing, with her brow furrowed.
"...It was a bad thing to say." She averted her eyes, even if she couldn't truly look away. She still felt him right there, saw through his vision. "I didn't mean it." Yes you did. "Or, I mean...I didn't think about what I was saying, I was just... I..."
Conflicting voices were rising in her, each telling her a different way in which she had screwed up. Trying to assemble her thoughts when she could hide behind her face and stall for time was one thing, but with Leviathan's presence right there, cutting through the noise was more difficult.
He's not going to believe you, said one.
After all she's done for you, you're still the same judgmental bitch, huh? came another.
What gives you the right to tell someone to their face that you don't like the one person he cares about most?
"...I'm sorry," she echoed. But sorry doesn't cut it, does it?
A long sigh escaped the avatar as it processed everything. "It's a miserable thing, to see all that you love crumble and know you can only delay the inevitable." It explained after a brief pause. There were no resentment in its words, or even the emotions that swam between them.
"You can feel how you feel - it matters little to me. The person she is - the person you know - they're different. One is but a mask for the other. A mask that over time, has consumed what little humanity she ever allowed herself to display. I won't defend her on some losing crusade. To say that her actions are justified misses the point I am trying to make completely." It explained, letting Crucible's shoulders go.
The memory resumed.
The lights on Leviathan's face were an affectionate shade of pink, dimmed to avoid blinding or harming Raven's eyesight. There was a sense of anxiety in its movements, a timid nature that reflected the tenderness and caution needed to be physically close to anyone like this.
Raven's face bridged the connection, presenting a caring kiss to the side of his face. Incidentally, a little bit of blood touched too. "... This almost feels like a dream."
As if it were breathing shakily, Leviathan let out a sigh of contentment and touched the spot it had received the kiss. "... What I would give to be able to do that to you." A set of warm metal fingers ran through Raven's hair as he chuckled. "You're not dreaming. Unless, you're hallucinating that you just kissed a robot."
Her singular eye squinted, almost playfully. "... You're going to hold that over me, aren't you."
He chuckled as he stroked her hair gently. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't." The simulation stopped and slowly faded into obscurity within the dreamscape.
Leviathan stepped towards the memory, as a longing desire to be whole with its partner swayed through the connection between Crucible and itself. The emotions were near-overpowering.
"... Nobody deserves to suffer like this. Not alone."