Андреа Хёст - The Starfighter Invitation

I was already so cold it was impossible to chill further. All Dio’s attempts to puzzle me out, poke at what I was afraid of, how I reacted to stresses, and now…would I do handstands, perform, vomit up all the innermost of me, in hopes that te would offer salvation? But, no, that wasn’t Dio. Te wasn’t telling me this in order to watch me beg.

[[We could not, of course, properly develop lan over a few days. You have a strong Core identity, but you remain at the very lower edge of viable transfer. We cannot bring forward current bodies, you understand—we will be transferring lan and memory. The risk is high for you, and it will be into circumstances where you will be separated from all you know. Not everyone would wish to experience that, so I will give you time to consider your choice.]]

I found a use for the bed. Unable to face the stars, I retreated, crawled beneath neglected sheets, clutched the pillow and wept.

Not for a single moment did I entertain the hope that Dio lied. That death was not about to rain from the sky. Nor did I spend time debating whether Dio’s motives were less altruistic than presented, for all te was literally asking for my soul, or the futuristic equivalent. Having moved past the question of lies, there was no doubt in me. I don’t think I ever heard a single person suggest life boat as the reason for Dream Speed , but I was glad to be offered a place on it. I didn’t want to die.

Knowing I had a way out did nothing to prevent a mountain of grief and helplessness from crushing me. I kept trying to be angry at Dio for offering only escape, instead of giving us the chance to fight for our future. But how could I criticise someone for not sacrificing ter own species in order to spare mine? All this had happened before Veronec had come into existence, and the Cycogs were even putting the lives of Bios above cold practicality—just the Bios of the future, not those existing now.

Who drowned the Earth? The first question the game had asked, and when I’d heard it I’d somehow pictured the inundation happening long after humans had spread beyond our solar system. But it was nearly now, in a way that made me half-frantic to wake up, so that I could run aimless as a chicken before a falling sky. The great flat fields of the Lowlands would lose the long battle with the sea. Drowned. All the places I had ever visited, all the continents on Earth, soon to be hit by a rain of stone and fire and upheaval. The mountains would speak, the ground would split, the oceans rise. Planet-wide Atlantis.

Beyond tears, and those fumbling attempts at anger, came a dry nausea that sent me retching. I resorted to a shower and peppermint tea in an attempt to gain some measure of…could I call it calm?

By the time Dio returned I was back in the cockpit of my Snug, hands curled around a lukewarm mug, feeling somehow scoured. I watched tem drift, wordless, to rest on the tip of my boot.

"You must be stopping people who say 'no'—or, even 'yes'—from telling anyone else."

[[Simple enough to not copy back the details of conversations. You’ll wake feeling as if you were upset, but not remembering why.]]

Something the Cycogs could do at any time in this sort of game—a far from comforting reflection. That was the Chocobo future I had been invited to join.

"What happens if—oh, I need to stop that—there is no if . I would like to go to The Synergis, please, Dio and be whatever that—what was it?—be an inoculation. But how does that happen?"

[[Drones. Not Renba: there’s no biomatter involved, which is one of the reasons why this transfer is so dangerous. The drone downloads your memory, and then your lan is detached, and the drone immediately returns to its chronal departure point. There you will be transferred to a Renba until you’re stable, and can be transitioned to your Core Unit.]]

"Do—" I hesitated, because there were some very important things I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to ask outright. "What happens to my body? Will it look as if I died playing the game?"

[[No. For original Cores, there is usually an echo of lan that persists for a few hours before dissipating, and so Bios can function to a certain level. Like a memory of a dream of themselves. But we are attempting to perform all transfers in the last two hours before the fall, to avoid panic around the game.]]

"How many, Dio?" I asked, for the second time.

Dio drifted from my left boot to my right, and I wondered if the movement was an attempt at distraction or prevarication, or even discomfort. Cycog body language was still beyond me.

[[Our goal is a hundred thousand. Whether we reach it depends on how many agree—and how many of them survive.]]

"You’re getting refusals?"

[[Yes. There are some who do not believe, or do not trust. And others who choose not to be separated from those around them. We do not invite the parents of young children, but there are other bonds candidates are unwilling to walk away from.]]

"Children couldn’t even play the game." The whole horror of it hit me afresh. Every child on this planet, about to die or face a future of deprivation followed by slavery.

[[I was not certain of you,]] Dio continued. [[Because of your dislike of Cybercognate oversight. You can reconcile yourself?]]

"When the choice is to serve in heaven, or die in hell, I can adapt."

The smile I offered up failed, not because I thought it would be so hard to have an alien overlord, but because of all that decision represented. I stared down at the drowned Earth, remembering that I’d cried the first time I’d floated above it. I’d do so the next, I suspected, for different reasons. Perhaps I always would.

Then, carefully, so carefully, I asked: "Is strength of lan the only criteria you’re using?"

[[No. We have chosen primarily candidates that, after due grieving and support, appear likely to adapt and go on to become functioning citizens of The Synergis. There was no set criteria beyond an ability to understand and respect city rules. Common courtesy and consideration. That kind of thing.]]

"The forums were full of debates about ruthlessness versus teamwork, puzzle solving ability versus fearlessness, and you were looking for polite ?"

Dio flickered through colours. [[Because this is an intake System, you perhaps did not have the context to fully understand the impact of city rules. It is enough to say that our Bios are safest when they do not cause offense without thought.]]

I sighed, because I was never going to like our Bios , no matter the context.

"What happens to the Cycogs here?" I asked instead. "Are you at risk of not transporting back? Do you have a nice time paradox become-your-own-grandparent thing to look forward to?"

[[We will be observing for some time,]] Dio said. [[We don’t anticipate difficulty returning.]]

"No?" I paused, wavered, and said: "The people you take can’t team up at all? Everyone will be alone?"

[[There are numerous paired candidates which we will attempt—though those are complicated by the possibility that only one survives. But clusters would paint too large a target, particularly during the initial years of this project. It will all come out eventually, of course. I only hope we’ve achieved our goal before that occurs—or we might find that a spate of mysterious deaths among transferred Bios point the way to Type Zero.]]

I coughed, a failure of laughter. "We’re not even Chocobos," I said. "You’re looking for canaries for your coalmine." But it was not that fact, nor the prospect of travelling alone that bothered me. "A-are —" I began, then stopped. What I wanted to know was whether my parents were candidates, but what would I do if the answer was something I didn’t want to hear? I would rob myself of the ability to pretend that they, like me, had a seat on the lifeboat.