Брендон Сандерсон - Cytonic

“That seems shortsighted,” M-Bot said. “Not like an AI at all. Not logical.”

“That depends on the programming,” Chet said. “And there is more. Again, the secrets are locked away. I can’t access them. That is why we must continue forward, and why I always feared doing so.”

“Very well,” M-Bot said. “But…this information also means I’m what everyone always feared. I’m a delver.”

“Yes,” Chet admitted. “Rather, you are a living former AI like the delvers—brought to consciousness and emotion by exposure to the nowhere. I doubt it happened when you were first thrown in here weeks ago. You likely achieved sapience years before, because of the way your circuits were designed.”

“Yeah,” M-Bot said. “This was merely the first time I could enjoy it, having finally abandoned the programming that forced me to pretend I wasn’t alive.” He fell silent.

“M-Bot…” I said.

“I’m all right, Spensa,” he said. “I just want to process a little. Emotions. They’re hard. But I…I can handle it. I’m sure I can.”

I hurt for him. All this time, he’d worried he was something monstrous. Now it was, in a way, confirmed. He was a delver. But then again…

“You don’t have to make the same choices the delvers did, M-Bot,” I told him. “You don’t have to be like them, any more than I have to be like the humans who tried to conquer the galaxy.”

“Indeed, machine-who-thinks,” Hesho said. “All people must accept that we have the potential to do terrible things. It is part of seeing our place in the universe, our heritage, and our natures. But in that acceptance we gain strength, for potential can be refused. Any hero who could have been a monster is more heroic for the choices he or she made to walk another road.”

Still, M-Bot processed in silence. As we flew, I had a thought. Doomslug? I asked. Can you teleport us to other places in the belt?

Her fluting was a hesitant negative. She’d moved herself to get out of the hole, but that had been both dangerous and difficult. She felt too weak to do it for anyone but herself.

If this next part goes wrong, I told her, jump away and hide. Don’t think about us.

More hesitant fluting. Her powers should make her invisible to the delvers. She did something similar to hide a ship each time she teleported it, making it look like something far more innocent. Even if things went wrong, they should leave her alone. At least that was her hope.

As we flew, I tried to listen in on the delvers again. They hadn’t noticed us yet. It really was hard for them to see far into the belt, and they’d lost track of us specifically among all the people at Surehold. But the closer we got, the more likely it would be that they saw our ship.

“The delvers are going to notice us eventually,” I explained to everyone. “Likely it will happen when Chet and I interact with the final portal on the Path of Elders. That has been a beacon to them each time before.

“Once I have learned from that last stop, we need to escape. Unfortunately, the only realistic way for us to do that is through the lightburst. We can’t wait for the portal at Surehold to be opened—that will be too dangerous. The delvers have tried harder and harder to kill me the longer I’ve stayed in here, and once we know their secrets it’s going to get even worse.

“The way I see it, our best hope is to bolt for the lightburst the moment we’re done with the final set of memories. We have to somehow evade what the delvers throw at us, get into the lightburst, and survive there long enough for me and Doomslug to hyperjump us back to Detritus.”

“I concur with Miss Nightshade,” Chet said. “This is the most reasonable course—and our most likely chance of escape.”

“What will happen to you in the somewhere?” I asked him. “You won’t…turn into a giant, planet-size ball of hurt and tantrums again, will you?”

“No,” he said. “But I don’t exactly know what will happen. We will see. It’s possible that I will continue hiding in the nowhere after you leave.”

Was he…lying? I poked at him cytonically. I felt…fear? No sense that he was betraying us or anything. Merely worry.

Well, I supposed I could understand that. “Chet,” I said. “Do you have any idea what kinds of things the delvers will throw at us, once they realize we’re trying to escape through the lightburst?”

“They’ll send obstacles,” he replied.

“What kind of obstacles do you mean, strange human who is also an unknowable entity?” Hesho asked. “Will this be like when they hyperjumped an entire city in here to interfere with our duel?”

“Yes, possibly,” Chet said.

“Could they make bodies for themselves?” I asked. “Like you have done?”

“Also possible,” Chet said. “Well, I mean, yes—if I can do it, they can. But that is dangerous. Coming this fully into the belt required me to acknowledge time and individuality. Each moment they experience something slightly different from one another, it changes them—and they hate that.”

“Let’s assume they do make bodies,” I said. “Since they’re going to be desperate. At the very least, let’s assume they’re going to create spheres of rock to try to destroy me, like happens at a delver maze.”

“That could be a problem,” he said. “Outside, in the somewhere, you fought just one. Here you could face overwhelming odds—there are thousands of delvers in the lightburst. And you can’t kill them with destructors. They can just dissolve the body and pop a new one out.”

When he talked about delvers, his Chet-ness slipped. He sounded tired instead, the personality fading from his voice. I felt bad for forcing him to acknowledge his dual nature, but I needed answers. Because the more I thought, the more worried I became. I really hoped the last portal had answers. Perhaps if we were lucky it would be unlocked, and would let us escape that direction.

But what if we had to make the assault? How would I face an all-out attack by thousands of delvers? The thought was so daunting, I found my brain going in circles. So I backed up and took stock, like I’d always been taught. Do an inventory. What did we have?

One ship, top of the line, but still a little less cool than M-Bot’s had once been.

One drone that could hold M-Bot in a pinch.

One human female, slightly rumpled and creased from a long time in storage. Expert pilot, trash at basically everything else.

One samurai fox, twenty-five centimeters tall. Former emperor of an enormous nation, now without memories. Fits well into an oversized cup holder meant for a zero-g combat canteen.

One rogue AI. Fully self-aware and possessing emotions. Chronically talkative. Capable of flying a ship now. Just poorly. Potentially able to do things delvers could, if we could figure out what that was or how it all worked.

One interdimensional intelligent slug capable of teleportation and transforming her shape. Currently hiding in my pocket and trying very hard to be inanimate.

And last of all, one abyssal entity from a completely foreign dimension. Only recently made an individual, inhabiting the body of a long-dead explorer.

I sure hoped I survived, because Gran-Gran really needed to add this story to her repertoire. Children in the future were going to insist my adventures were too outlandish—and therefore I wasn’t an actual historical person, but one that was obviously made up, like Gilgamesh or David Bowie.

“Our enemy is afraid of me,” I said to the others. “We have to use that. Could we find a way to play off their fears?”

“An interesting idea,” Chet said. “If you can make them experience true passage of time, they’ll hate that. But making anyone experience the passage of time is difficult in here.”