Godclads

Chapter 5-12 Exhalation

Chapter 5-12 Exhalation

Avo... You can do that. You can. It isnt that efficient is the thing.

No two wards are the same. No two phantasmics are the same. Even ones made from similar sequences. People remember the same thing differently. And different things? Even more, so--

Wait. Let's refocus. Yeah, I know there's an aratnid in the vents. A whole nest actually. If you pay attention, you might just be able to discern the thought accretion that bubble from its young as well. Yeah. The aratnid's a mother.

How long does it take for aratlings to grow up?

...Heh. Now that's a question I don't know. Come on. Let's comb the Nether."

-"Walton," instructing [Redacted] on the basics of Necrotheurgy.

5-12

Exhalation

Departing the Carnal Cluster was a bit less than a trifle. The greatest folly rested mostly on the Syndicate Necrojacks, their gazes pointed outward, with scant few amongst them running patrols. Even then, those diligent few played at their duties with half-hearted intent, flying their Specters high and visible as if kites for all to see, making them easy to avoid.

From the gathered crowd, Avo stole flickers of knowledge, palming small pieces of surface thoughts with the pooling presence of his Ghostjack. His broadcast was subtle, spoof memories to meld with minds unwary and unprotected. He slipped in beneath notice, connecting to them by the exploitation of their short-term memories.

Who would think it strange to suddenly remember a random kiosk they just saw, after all? Or regard the sudden appearance of someone wearing a synthjacket in their mind's eye as more than an intrusive thought. Yet, shrouded beneath their ignorance, Avo plucked at their recent memories, using them to avoid the patrols and nu-dogs all the same.

Throughout it all, he savored the sensation of reaching out into the Nether again. Not merely floating. Not merely a vehicle. Now, he was melded, his Ghostjack allowing him to reach up into the cognitive plane that was scaffolded atop reality.

By the time he reached the perimeter, escape was a simple thing of injecting a crude edit of distilled rage into a customer who had already been swindled twice. It was enough to bridge the gulf between their frustration and fury proper. Few questioned why their anger grew when it already had a reason to burn. And few in the crowd were surprised when a disgruntled wager finally leaped into a stall to begin "renegotiations" regarding a faulty product they were sold.

They drew the attention of the guards when the first punch was thrown. And where attention was drawn, gaps formed. The metaphorical dam of security began to tear, opening in folds and leaks.

The guards of the outer perimeter were still incapacitated when ghoul, Regular, and slave crossed them, bodies sheened with sweat, with puddles of fetid clumps painting their writhing bodies.

+Thank Jaus for Syndicate security,+ Avo said, echoing Draus' earlier words.

She laughed.

Through the dark of the gutters again, they crossed a quiet street, neon ads clashing, flashing, and changing as higher and higher bids showcased a cyclic war of eternal product placement. At the end of the street, the gazes of gutter-juvs remained fixed on the fire, their emaciated bodies laden with cheap chrome surrounded by patches of scabs.

They extracted in the same vehicle they came in on. The inauspicious Doldrum served their purpose well, sinking low behind the cover G-Station as its side doors opened to allow for boarding.

"I... I circled the area... three... three-hundred and twenty... twenty-two times," Kae said, proudly. "Made... made the patterns random... I think... I think my... my forgetfulness helped!" She giggled bitterly. "For once--it... uh... it was useful!"

"Yeah, sounds great," Draus said, her words thin and distracted, her mind occupied by other concerns. Avo held a fair guess as to what. Her eyes had been fixed on him during their exfiltration. A conversation was undoubtedly in their future.

Guided by her leash, the former mod-slave boarded the aerovec giggling like a child between sobbing chokes. None gave her much regard within the market. Just another overly neuromodded, overly engineered piece of meat; a creature so commonplace that she was a bland offering amidst the many eccentricities in the market, more wallpaper than a person.

"Who... who's this?" Kae asked, her tone taking on a confused note.

"Salvage," Draus said. She shot Avo a look. "And test-subject if we're gonna be all honest."

Leave it to the former Highflame Regular to carry old fears of cognitive defilement. Such was the art that Ori-Thaum wielded against them, after all. Where Highflame was a thaumaturgic and militaristic powerhouse in the real, they survived only behind vast, warded fortresses in the Nether, constantly straining against the unending assault that Ori-Thaum and other freelance Necros inflicted upon them.

What a strange thing it was, to be a lion in one world, and a lamb in the other.

Avo studied the thoughtstuff of the mod-slave. Already, his ghost was fragmenting, the flow of her mind clamping inward akin to a jaw closing around a beam of cracking glass. Soon, the blue clouding her flesh would swallow the red. Injected feelings were things ever-fleeting, but traumas and emotions anchored properly to a mind were like scars and wells both. So long as the thinker remained, how then could they run dry of their own memories?

"She'll be broken again," Avo said. He strapped himself within the aerovec's gimbal, watching Draus do the same for the slave. "Soon."

"Put any thoughts as to what we're gonna do with this one?" Draus asked. "Ain't keepin' her with us, that's for damn sure. Ain't equipped to fix someone this broken."

At that, Kae narrowed her eyes at the Regular. "I... I think she can get better."

Draus nodded. "Yeah. Sure, so do I. But you gonna be the one to pay the imps for her therapy?"

"I'll extract the sequences," Avo said. "Useful. Good for weapons. Bioware also useful. Aesthetic. Sell it to the No-Dragons. Leave her with them."

"Don't like leavin' a trail that leads back to us, Avo," Draus said.

"Will scrub her mind clean. Give her new identity. Plant a false trail if anyone links us."

That struck a beat of silence into the Regular. Again, she looked upon Avo, but there was something new in her stare now. A new tension. "So. You weren't lyin' when you said you was a pretty decent 'Jack."

Avo grunted. "You haven't seen decent yet."

She exhaled and began strapping herself into her own gimbal as well. "Hells. Your father... ah, Walton was it? Must've been a real special guy."

"You said that before. During the Crucible."

"Nah," Draus said, shaking her head as she clapped her mag-belts together, "I didn't mean this of special before. Mean it now, though."

A low breath snaked out from Avo's nostrils, a mixed noise. Her honesty, he appreciated. The admission that she thought his father was some kind of invalid, he did not. The beast was clawing inside his chest, begging him to crack the minds of all those present, to tear them asunder and ascend alone.

He had the Ghostjack. He was a whole person again. He didn't need them. He didn't. Avo swallowed. He wasn't even hungry right now. He just wanted to kill. "Draus. Silence is better than honesty sometimes."

She barked a laugh. "And sometimes if you don't be honest, that shit can go from a feelin' to problem mighty quick." She shrugged. "We might as well clear the air early. Get stuff cleaned up between us."

On that, he could agree. "Yeah. Want to talk about my Ghostjack?"

"I wanna talk about settin' some boundaries is all. Later."

That, he understood.

***

The local Nether was filled with recollections plucked from recently made ghosts; crude vicarities remembering an exchange of gunfire between Dead Lotus and the Neon Bleeders from multiple perspectives.

What apparently started as a dispute over who held the right to which taxable sky-lane descended into violence as local enforcers and drone jocks sought to settle things by gauss and firepower. Knots of golems, then, were called in. Including one that had a nearly filled Rendsink to begin with.

As a result, they had to take an alternate route due to a spatial tear bleeding intrusive counter-chronologic entities into the Y-Y-23 Red Express lane.

According to Kae, seeing as a golem lacked a Soul to keep feeding the Rupture, she expected the destabilization to last no more than mere minutes before it burned through the last of its borrowed Soulfire, leaving only the Rend. One of the Syndicates would probably use it to make a bomb or munition sometime soon, useless as it was for anything else.

They made it back to Xin Yunsha beneath the lethargy of mid-day traffic, a full hour later than expected but a few thousand imps richer. One of the imp-collector ghosts was leaking visible sequences of memory. Sequences that Avo studied and spoofed, allowing him to intrude into the construct and make a few changes of his own.

IMPS: [2722]

A sea of scintillating motes instilled the accretion of his thoughts with a nebula-like shine while sinking past the roiling clouds of his wards. In the back of his mind, Avo heard the light chimes sounded by the cognitive entities that were the imps. Supposedly, they were created by the excess thaumic resonance unleashed when the Nether was first installed. Most just accepted them as an easy, cog-tangible form of currency.

It was better than physical money. Too many Heavens of Riches, Wealth, and Prosperity already used that as an attack vector.

Still, Avo was pleased to have money again. He was even more pleased that he got to steal from a Syndicate.

They landed in a quiet lot located at the heart of a downward-slopping neighborhood, a few blocks away from the Second Fortune. A myriad of lights greeted their descent, some bioluminescent, some holographic; all neon. Dancing splotches of ink played advertisements across billboards of paper-like skin lining the side of smaller buildings, their surfaces infused with living tattoos.

Then, taking different routes, they each made their way back to the Second Fortune, Avo with the slave, Draus with Kae.

"Don't eat 'er," Draus said.

"Try not to," Avo said.

The approach the Regular took to covering her tracks was near-overkill, but near-overkill was sometimes insufficient in this city. With how many people had Recollector constructs at their disposal, and how many eyes were watching every corner of New Vultun, the only way to hide from the panopticon was to break from the routine and disrupt patterns of movement.

Already, the No-Dragons were probably suspicious. Avo would need to see if he could work an angle on Green River somehow. Find out just how much more she knew. That would take some careful work. As much as she revealed, her knowledge was more tied to the Frame and less to his capabilities.

The Ghostjack, then, would remain his best tool. One that he sought to keep hidden from as many as possible. Aseleri's mistakes were never going to be his, but still, her foolishness served as a reminder of Walton's teachings.

What he had was more than a mere weapon platform. And he did not need to be in visual sight of someone to null them.

Behind, the mod-slave was whimpering, her mind collapsing back under the weight of trauma. Draus had handed him her shock leash and he had taken it off. As much as he wanted to peel and sample her skin, he had no taste in keeping her chained. She had been treated enough like a nu-dog. If she were to break, another dose of joy should be enough to soothe her senses.

Along the streets, a train car hovered by, packed to the brim with children and their mothers, leaving a trail of laughter and thoughtstuff tinged with excitement. His holocoat and helmet kept his incognito just fine, though he found himself wishing he had an Incog phantasmic to parry any attention that might fall upon his person.

Above, the projection of a false sun shone as a splotch of darkness built at its core, a live simulacrum of the actual daystar slowly succumbing to its thaumic twin. Even in the Warrens there were wealthier districts and poorer districts. The gulf between Yunsha and Mazza's Junction--much less Burner's Way--was a magnitude of worlds.

From sloped roofs ribbed with jaded bricks, wind-chimes rang in the air. Across doorways, more figures of myth and legend from Old Sangshan, their looping animations portraying them as guardians of homes and establishments. Of course, outside walked the actual guardians. Bioforms implanted with weapons both biological and cybernetic, their Sang owners roaming behind them, encased in suits of living armor.

Short was the distance between a little government and a Syndicate. Somewhere, the Sang that governed this place must've indulged in their own set of horrors. But after Conflux, his appreciation came easy for an organization that could maintain its own buildings.

+STEEEEEEEEEAMMMMM BUNSSSS!+ A loud wail of phantasmal excitement washed out from a hovering aerovec. It projected a holovid of a dancing nu-bear of some monochrome variant riding on a massive tiger made of animated dough. +Any dog-headed wanderer can court death amidst the metal mountains of New Vultun! But only the wise will move to pre-emptively still the groanings of their stomachs. Be you wise or a dog-head, wanderer?+

That drew a low laugh from him. He thought Walton might've bought him a meal from an auto vendor much like this one. A lion head was his Metamind's direct translation. Still, despite the delectable scent of meat, Avo never had the taste for dough. Soft and clingy, it clung too much to his fangs.

Behind him, he heard the pattering footsteps of the girl stop.

"Wait," she said.

He could already see the top of the Second Fortune. The sooner he got back and met up with Draus, the soon the girl could be offloaded to the grafter; her bioware sold for profit.

"Please, wait," the girl choked out, her eyes red. Turning, he glanced at her mind and found his earlier shot of joy dissolved. Yet, despite the obvious tumult afflicting the waters of her thoughts, she had not caved in as she had before. Not yet. "I... I want to eat."

Beside them, the auto vendor roared with mind-drowning laughter. +Master Baozi senses hunger! Master Baozi says: you cannot channel the full powers of the Heavens when hungry! Fill your core, wanderer! Do not let your body down, lest it let you down in return!+

Avo studied the former slave. A conversation occurred between the many voices governing his person. The beast was the first to be strangled, its desires nothing but brutal banalities. Practicality, then, called to Avo. To pull her along. With her being an obvious mod slave, the people of the district might take note. Might remember. He needed to get her out of the street before--

A sour note bled out from her mind. Most human emotions splashed off against Avo's mind. Too much asymmetry; too little empathy from his end. What she bore against him, however, was potent. Just the right angle. Just enough pressure.

Hunger. She reeked of pain and hunger. Even the beast recoiled at her pain, the suffering not beyond its instincts to comprehend.

"Please," she said again.

Avo sighed. The light-bathed streets were few of walkers at this hour, but never few of watchers. Someone could still track Aseleri's death using her. She would be an easy find for a Recollector. He would need to edit her mind extra meticulously. Just in case. Ensure that even if someone connected her to Aseleri's death, they would find nothing through her. He would burn himself, Draus, and Kae from her mind; leave a false trail leading to a nonexistent group of squires in their stead.

Avo sighed. More trouble though this act might incur, he knew Walton would've smiled upon him. "What do you want?"

She swallowed. A trickle of a tear spilled out from the corner of her eye. "Steamed bun."

"How many?"

"One," she said, choking again. "Thank you."

One. How insignificant her hunger compared to his. He chuffed, a low chuckle hissing out from his throat. People hated ghouls. People massacred his kind like vermin. People treated him as less than nu-dog. Yet, for all the delights that New Vultun bestowed upon him, he never once wished he could've been human.

For in her was the fate that branded the vast majority of the species. Broken. Impotent. Exploitable.

FATELESS.

IMPS: [2697]

Avo flicked the imps over to the auto vendor's locus, placing his order with a thought.

+Virtuous indeed, wanderer!+ the bear cried, backflipping to catch two dishes of food using its feet. It began to cycle the plates back and forth as the machine began printing the food, rumbling as clone-meat melded with the sludge of grav-molded dough. A holo-projection of a percentage bar filled up rapidly, finishing with a triumphant ring as the machine ejected the bun.

Planted neatly atop a quick-fabbed plate, the white of the bun glistened still with a pearlescent sheen. A spill of soy sauce ran down its top in the form of the Stormsparrow, looking at her shoulder with a faint smile in sponsorship of the bun.

Avo plucked the meal from its port and handed it to the girl. "Eat and walk. You can do both."

Nodding numbly, she took the dish from his hand as they carried on. "I... thank you--"

"Already said that," Avo replied, cutting her off. "Don't talk. Just eat. Keep walking."

Quivering, she did as he said.

He didn't want to make nor risk small talk with her. If she formed deeper memories of him, if she started forming the sediment of affection when it came to his person, it would add hours to his work.

And she wasn't the only one.

Her. Kae. Chambers. The techs. Draus. Himself. The memories he got from Aseleri. They all needed work, and he was the only one who could deliver. At least for now he had some room to breathe. Claim more thaums, ghosts, Heavens, and Hells. Contemplate. Investigate. Prepare.

Avo exhaled.

For so long, an opposing momentum had seized him, dashing him along obstacles and adversaries like he was crashing from rock to rock, caught in the rapids. Now, the waters were slowing.

And when they stopped, he would see about driving it back the other way.