Андреа Хёст - The Starfighter Invitation

"So why would an advanced life form like you want to waste time shepherding some random human about?"

[[Would you like a philosophical discourse on the purposes and advantages of domestication? On a strictly practical level, Bios are our transport. Cycogs cannot generate the lan necessary for interstellar travel. But it is also a matter of our own standing in The Synergis. It is a status item to have is a Bio that performs well in the Trials and Challenges. Best of all would be to raise up the Bio who succeeds in crossing the galactic limit, and expanding The Synergis outside Helannan. Outside the Milky Way.]]

"You mean we’re…pets," I said. "No, mounts, which you ride and also put through competitions to advance your own reputation. We’re horses. We’re…we’re Chocobos."

I hadn’t been certain that the Cycog would even recognise the reference to the giant birds used as transport in the Final Fantasy series, but the glowing ball laughed immediately—a sound that was not only strangely doubled, but possessing an added set of sputtering notes that were in the inhuman true voice of the Cycogs, like an electric organ had giggled.

[[Yes, you are Chocobos. Carefully raised, kept well fed, and excessively useful for getting about. Tendency to squawk.]]

I didn’t know whether to laugh in return. Mainly I wanted to shudder, thankful this was only a game.

"What happens if I don’t do any of this? If instead of facing Trials and Challenges and whatnot, I just go down there and take a nice walk on the beach?"

[[Then you take a walk on the beach.]]

"Until what? I starve? I get kicked out of this room? You bring out the spurs?"

[[What for? All Bios who join The Synergis are guaranteed a base level of care. This room, your Snug, is yours alone. There is clothing, food, entertainments. Less variety than those who choose to participate, but nothing unpalatable. It is not uncommon for a Bio to compete in Challenges until they have unlocked sufficient patterns for their own satisfaction, and then to simply become observers, or find some personal preoccupation: an art or sport unrelated to The Synergis' great goal.]]

"Isn’t that boring for you? Or do you coax them back?"

[[Why would I waste my energy forcing one Chocobo to drink when I can always ask to be assigned another? Nor would I send you to the glue factory, but simply pass your care on to the general attention of the planet’s administrator, who will set a Construct, a…sub-routine, a corner of ter attention to monitor your well-being.]]

"Put out to pasture…" I murmured.

Dio laughed again, that splutter of musical notes over doubled voice. [[Yes. I do like this analogy. I shall add a yellow feathered head-dress to the available patterns, for the other Bios who make the connection.]]

"But…" I paused, because it didn’t seem a good idea to raise that opening incitement to espionage and stolen ships. "Don’t people hate it? Rebel? Try to bring down The Synergis?"

[[Of course. Or, at least, leave. Why do you think there are Enclaves? We often help Bios set them up, or locate a suitable world and transport them there, if enough of them want to go at once. But…]] The glowing mote changed colour again, an entire rainbow shift. [[The Synergis is a beneficial mutual arrangement, and most citizens—Bio or Cycog—treat the relationship as a symbiotic partnership, for that is how it is at its core, even though I have been speaking of it in extreme terms, for purposes of trolling and other mild entertainment.]]

"Oh, really?"

[[I thought you would enjoy it,]] Dio murmured.

This time I did laugh, despite myself. I didn’t find the idea of being someone’s Chocobo at all attractive, but it was an incredible conceit, and Dio almost managed to make it sound amusing.

"So how do we go about getting into space?" I asked, since there didn’t seem anything to do about my Cycog except gracefully accept their input.

[[Well, for a start, perhaps you’d like to get dressed?]]

"What did you call this place again?" I asked Dio, following the ball of light back into the main room. "My Snug?"

[[The Snug is the initial basis for your ship. Currently it can only move through the use of borrowed propulsion. Your immediate goals are to gain the permissions and upgrades necessary to leave the planet, and the strength to Skip.]]

"Are there different kinds of ships?" I asked, thinking of the sprawling hulk people had raced through during Demo 2.

[[Snugs can be modified considerably, including through connection to components kept in orbit. Though there is a limit to the size of ship the average Bio can Skip.]]

"Does Skip equate to hyperspace?"

[[Closer to threading space with temporary wormholes. The door to your left is your wet room—for all the revolting expulsions you Bios needs must suffer through. The door to your right is Storage. You will note your [Status] menu is now available.]]

I wasted no time checking it out:

[Rank]

[Achievements]

[Permissions]

[Modals]

[Patterns]

[Information]

Of these new options, only [Patterns] was green. I selected it without prompting.

[Apparel] (1)

[Consumables] (3)

[Tools] (2)

[Personal Decoration]

[Décor]

[Transport]

[Ship]

The first three of these were green, so I immediately went into Apparel and saw the typical paper doll used by games to indicate equipped gear. Except the paper doll was me, a full-sized slightly improved Taia, equally as naked.

There was another range of options—[Feet], [Head], [Underwear], [Upper Body], [Lower Body], [Full Body], [Accessories]. Only [Full Body] had a (1) beside it, so I started with the only outfit available to me: [Basic Jumpsuit (Green-Grey)].

A jumpsuit appeared handily on the paper doll. A little reinforcement around the shoulders, a somewhat off-centre slit down the front, and a few pockets. It fit the paper doll loosely. A pair of chunky black boots finished the outfit.

Checking out the [Tools] option, I found a massive list ranging from construction to weapons, but only the topmost was green. "What’s a foci?"

[[Plural of focus. You use a focus to direct your lan—whether for combat or for Skipping.]]

There were two foci available to me, and I equipped them in turn. The first was a kind of hoodish helmet—halfway between Spider-Gwen and Magneto—producing an incognito look. The second took me a moment to even spot on the paper doll: a grey loop over one ear, with a forward-projecting section flat against my cheek, like a wireless microphone.

"Any stat difference on these?" I asked, and when Dio told me it was just a cosmetic choice, I went with the microphone.

Making my limited selection had not altered my nakedness, so I turned to the closet that filled the corner to the right of the hexagon-exit. More than large enough to be a walk-in-wardrobe, with a close-fit curving door facing the bed area. The handle was an indent set into the sloping corner, and when I tugged it lightly the thing swung open with a hiss and a lot of weight, like a heavy-duty refrigerator.

Inside was a mirror.

I blinked, because seeing a naked me in my HUD and seeing a naked me in a full-length mirror was quite a different experience. I critically considered my body, and felt pleased all over again. I had disliked my too-short legs for as long as I could remember. Leaning in, I examined my face, wondering why it looked so different when I’d hardly changed anything there, then realised it was my complexion. Perfect clarity, without acne scars, over-large pores, or even shininess.

Not quite uncanny valley, but I needed several second glances to decide to like it.