ARBITER

No one's gonna do your job for you After all, that's not how this thing works – Good luck final girl, by underscores

Her Emptiness gets another incoming communication. “shut up”, she replies, denying the call, taken in by the stunning view of the landscape below. The two stare out of the hexagon's transparencies for what feels like an entire tick, taken in by the eerie, perpetual serenity of a ravaged system. After some time, Sekri breaks the silence. “...you were right“ “...i was??? about what, exactly?”, Amry replies. “this world being quaint, is all. vibrant was how you described it?“ Beaming as if she's a character from her novels, Amry lets out a noise intended to be a squeal of glee, but the noise registers more like a pod's squeak. “i knew it! i knew you still had a bit of whimsy left in you ≈:D“ “whimsy is the wrong concept- awe, more so“ “you... you are aware there is no prohibition on enjoying things, sekri?“ “do you think i fail to enjoy my duty?“ “ughhhhhh, there's no convincing you, is there? fine.”, Amry says, gesturing out the window, “what do you think? what do you feel?“ “it is beautiful, almost picaresque“ “you mean picturesque?“ “no“ Amry pauses confusedly. “well, i like the greens covering it all ≈:/. what is your favorite part?“ “i like the greys, rectangles peppering the whole thing. buildings, ostensibly“ “how apt of you @~@“ “look, i just refuse to make assumptions“ “what do the buildings make you feel?“ Sekri chuckles. “lust“ Annoyed, Amry begins to heighten her tone. “i am trying to have a moment with you!!! i am trying to get you to appreciate what we have here!!! this is not the time for jokes!!! >~<“ “what do you want me to feel?“ “i do not wish you to feel anything! i want you to-“ “is saying i feel nothing such a crime, then? to say i refuse to express sentimentality towards a culture i have never experienced, one that clearly refused to maintain itself? you said it yourself, you do not wish me to feel anything“ “aaaargh!!!“ “i am simply taking you at your word“ “you take my words and you twist them! you contort them into your own shapes! my words are not a vehicle for your purposes“ Sekri thinks to himself about his surroundings. Faint puffs of dust trickle from the inside of the room, bonding to his fur in a way that'll require pruning and brushing later. The entire time, he's been thinking about nothing but the necessity of getting this done. But Amry's comment breaks his resolve, and he pauses.

“sekri?”, Amry says.

“sekri?“

“sekri?“

SNAP! can you perceive me? come on, get up! this is no time for dilly-dallying.....

Sekri slams his paw onto the transparency with intense ferocity, as if he's trying to SNAP something of his own. “apologies”, he replies. “you are certain you aren't experiencing decay of your own?”, Amry says, miming an expression of concern with her limited features. “no, just- tired, is all. it is of no consequence“ “...alright“

The two make their way out of the towering hexagon, its sides seeking only to constrict their future operations. Upon exiting, outside lies the same lands they found themselves on before. “so where to, boss?”, Amry says, the word “boss” landing like a truck against a concrete wall. Sekri attempts to formulate a response to the passive aggression, but instead finds himself captivated by a strange block of orange having washed up onto the green. He moves over to grab it — it feels strange, smooth in a way that the greens and greys fail to achieve. The object has some features of the wireframe mesh the computer rendered. To its top lies two triangles, except rounded off towards their tips. While the facial structure of the object is foreign, it does have a face, large circles sitting towards its front. It seems... blissfully ignorant, unknowing of the fate befalling its land. Black stripes coat its surface, doubly so on the triangles and the oblong extension out of them. Above it lies two lines cutting through it, handles attempting to signal that there lies more than meets the eye. Sekri flips it over, his paws not being able to adequately maneuver between the cracks, and part of it falls out with a spring-like motion. A new piece arises, black squares coating its surface. Yep. This is definitely it. “amry. do you recognize this?”, he says. Amry responds with very limited information. “not in the slightest?? certainly nothing from any other culture. look at the facial structuring, it kind of looks like...“ “please do not do the weird thing with your messaging-“ “Σ8}“ “...urgh. sure.“ “is that another one?”, Amry says, extending a tendril out of her voidform towards an area further along the separating line. There lies another piece of smooth orange and black, its blackness having significantly faded in comparison to the one Sekri picked up. “why is it different?“ “oh i know this one!!! it is an environmental effect, i saw similar things on andek“ Sekri reels. “you know my feelings about-“ “i understand it bothered you, but did it not inconvenience elsie as well?“ Sekri aims directly at Amry, his viewport directly upon her, akin to our notion of a death stare. “you do have to get over it, you know“ Sekri stands unflinching. Amry waits as if she expects something from behind his gaze, but even the wind refuses to break the tension. “will that be all?”, he says pointedly. “right, such is... regardless, the blue flowings are hostile, they seek to destroy this black and some of this orange”, Amry says, noting a white spot on the... thing. “perhaps not seeking to destroy, rather- it is just the way of it, if not slightly cruel“ His Tragicality pauses. “we should move on”, he says, picking up the other orange object. The two of them start walking.

The winds are simultaneously eerily still and ever-present, unwilling to back down. Every couple of steps — more like a single continuous step in Amry's case, but regardless — they encounter yet another orange object, picking it up, noting its differences, and storing it for future research. After about six of these, Sekri finally breaks the silence. “so...“ “so??”, Amry says, almost shocked. “how was your last trip?“ “you have the care to ask???“ “do you have any other preordained topics in mind?“ “not especially? truthfully, i do not give a shit about the preordained ≈:P“ “not quite what i meant“ “regardless, it was wonderful! the beings on hazzak were incredibly friendly to us, intentions notwithstanding. marka was being a piss baby as ever but i found it serene. actually- do you see over there?”, Amry says, extending a tendril towards a patch of multiple colors. The area is peppered with them as if seemingly random, each falling up from the green, splaying outwards upon their multiple folds. “the entire area was coated in things much like these!“ Sekri looks at the folded and unfolded splaying colors upon the surface as he continues walking. “it is difficult for me to attach myself to these, but i do process what you are trying to get at“ “yes! regardless, the entire area was painted with them, as if the entire planet was a cultural artifact of its own“ “did you manage to find anything?“ Amry pauses for an uncomfortable period of time. “so what was the issue then”, Sekri replies, knowing the meaning when Amry says nothing. “ah – it was much too saccharine there for the taste of the greater whole, despite my personal traits, and so it was rejected wholesale“ Sekri's interest piques. “it was rejected despite being perfectly usable?“ “cognis works in strange ways ≈:/”, Amry says, mimicking a shrug to the best of her ability. “it seems wasteful, is all“ “i did say ≈:/“ “how do you even do that with your messaging???“ “like this: ≈:/“ Her Emptiness receives another communication, interrupting the conversation. She decides to mute incoming traffic from this sender for one tick.

Gradually, after picking up more and more smooth pieces of orange and stashing them away, the two make their way towards some sharp grey blocks. Their shapes vary from rectangular prisms to cubes to pyramids, the texture therein being deeply inconsistent, as if random, insignificant noise was of any value. Sekri reaches out his arm to touch one of the blocks. Its surface is uncomfortable, almost viscerally, as if providing an electrical sting to his paw. Regardless, like any true scientist, he tries again with another block, this one being significantly closer to the planetary surface. “can you feel this?”, Sekri says, noting a strange smoothness above one of the blocks. It feels soft, warm almost, at least to him, a full empty cavern in the idyllic winds. As Amry approaches, Sekri's grip slips on the warmness, and a faint breeze manifests in its wake. “nevermind??”, he says. “oh???“ “perhaps i am missing something, but i could swear that some form was just present“ “hrm ≈:[“ “prescient commentary, emptiness“ “if you do not want me to check, what do you want me to do?“ “...fair point.“ “oh, wait- look!”, Amry exclaims, noting a grey-black towards the surface where the green ellipsoids once lied. “and what is this?”, she says, doing a voidform mosey towards it, almost as if teleportation. Sekri sighs loudly, offsetting the breeze further. Everything seems to be exciting to Amry in a way that feels almost strange — given her position, this should be routine by now. Perhaps it's a side effect of the decay, he thinks. Perhaps it's just always been like this, and I need to stop being paranoid, he thinks more potently. “come on, sekri! it is just interesting to see commonalities!”, she says. “commonalities?”, Sekri says, genuinely confused. “shared features! for example, this winding grey-blackness? it is in my novels as well!“ Sekri shivers. “if you talk about your novels-“ “it is not the content of the novels but the worlds depicted therein. i have not seen it directly but it is called a road there“ “you know how i feel about using concepts from texts such as that”, Sekri says with a scowl. “does it matter? we are not under anyone's gaze“ “i suppose you may be right, but-“ Amry picks up a smooth grey object from the surface of the planet with a tendril, and chucks it straight into the blue without a moment for anyone to react. The thing lands with a solid PLUNK, and concentric circles form within the blue, spreading from inside to out, and eventually fizzle out unceremoniously. “see? it's fine, we can do whatever”, she says. Maw agape, Sekri finds himself taken aback by the sudden insubordination to the mission's parameters. “i said, i suppose you may be right, but the rules of interaction are present for purposes beyond us“ “and i am saying that the rules of interaction are for cultures that are still present. did you not see the computer? did you inaccurately report its results to me? because it seems like that they are dead. deceased. their ashes scattered to the winds. or are you under the belief that these rules are not necessarily situational?“ “they are for our protection, not theirs.“ “i do not need protection ≈:<“ “we are sent here in twos for a reason, and this is it. will you please continue to play by my rules while i am around? not for anyone's sake but mine, if your disrespect for authority is truly all-consuming“ “alright...”, Amry says, meekly. Despite having won the argument in her mind, she still has to get along with others. Unfortunate.

The walk goes on. Every so often, the two encounter an encampment of some kind, ones that Sekri identifies as “buildings” to Amry as he did before. It's all more of the same, monotonous routine: Amry finds something exciting, Sekri doesn't find it exciting, we move on. The land is bare as the story to be told about it.

The grey snake they walk on is long, almost unending. It splits, it winds, and it eats its own tail. It ends at the point where culture and perception intersect, the shape of the snake creating an implicit bias towards where it leads. One might assume the snake has animosity towards where it fails to land. But the snake does not care about what lies on it or away from it, it is unfeeling, unflinching, inorganic. The snake waits for noone.

At the end of their segment of the snake, they find

nothing. A profound nothing, one that loops around the language they speak as if a criminal on the run. There are no shapes here, nothing to be processed, no consensus to be dealt out. They find it odd and attempt to press on, but still

just nothing.

“if we keep encountering prohibitive irrelevance it is likely we should just back up“ “honestly... yeah, i am getting kind of bored. you still have the artifacts, yes?“ “who do you take me for“ “faiiiir point!“

So they head back.

The vessel, of course, is unscathed upon their return, the watchful gaze of the hills protecting it from hazards. Not that there would be hazards regardless, given the whole “wiped out” thing going on here. The ramp is still open, the fog machines long since disengaged. “can i have a moment?”, Sekri says. “i want to retire to my quarters for a moment before we perform analyses“ “of course, silly!!!”, Amry says. “i am glad you are taking a break“ Sekri walks down the labyrinthine halls of the vessel, eventually landing in his room. Unfortunately, it lies right next to the room with analytical tooling and computers – the humming, clicking, whining, and whistling of the machinery is unsuitable for any form of respite nearby. It's clear that the vessel's designer was looking for someone work-focused, willing to attend to duty at any time. Conveniently, then, Sekri is here. The room he finds himself in is suitably drab, the green tone of the walls being the primary splash of color present. The area could be described as a “male living space” under a different frame of reference, a utilitarian wet dream. A shelf lies to his left, full of role playing game source books, yet not a single die, and video games befitting somebody who would have a shelf full of RPG source books. While the actual contents of the RPGs are significantly beyond the possibilities of Sekri's imagination, the worlds constructed therein are meticulous, incredibly specific to a point, he says. Though he'd never tell you that. The video games... are collecting dust. Truthfully, Sekri hasn't had enough time to put many more hours into these. The games are a strange variety: clearly, some get less love then others. On display are “HALF LIFE 3” and “METAL GEAR SOLQUID”, as well as a video recording of a movie called “LARVAL DRIVER” that's mixed in with the games as if he couldn't tell the difference. The room itself is lined with posters, about half of which are maps from various cultures or ripped out of sourcebooks. The other posters all follow a relatively similar formula: each of them has some arm of Cognis providing something, or a being in the center calling the reader to action. It's easy to get a sense of the raw emotion in each one, as if these were people truly committed to their message. The conviction therein inspires Sekri — he says that it reminds him why he is here when questioned about it. The rest of the room is horribly standard — a pod, a desk filled with various incoherent scribblings, a monitor to a games console, and a floor covering that really ties the whole place together. Without it, it would just feel like a temporary station. But with it? It's a home. Sekri grabs a game from the shelf and inserts it into the console. The monitor springs to life as if being imbued with it, finally ready to serve its purpose after all this time. The game's title screen loads. “Tetris”. No jokes, references, or intentional bastardizations here, Tetris is just the universal constant. Not just that, but Sekri crushes at Tetris. He starts up a 40 line sprint and finishes it in 27 blinks. Not bad, he thinks. Entranced by the game's repetitive motions, Sekri says he'll put in 10 attempts. He puts in 30, unfortunately failing to get any personal best.

After eventually managing to strip himself away from the game, Sekri makes his way to the computer room again. Unchanging as ever, the machinery coats the walls, the warmth of the area being almost tangible. He pushes a button on the main controls, and a pulsating mass on one of the walls opens up, as if a gaping maw ready to receive prey. Sekri retrieves one of the smooth orange objects, and places it in the analysis bay. Not wanting to bother Amry — possibly wanting to avoid her altogether — Sekri tries to keep the noise down, as if he's doing something taboo by getting back to work so quickly. Regardless, the machine doesn't appear to get the memo.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???

“can you keep your messaging down? or at the very least use a less antiquated system for it”, Sekri says.

LITERALLY NO CHEAPSKATES WON'T GIVE ME UPGRADES

Sekri sighs, hoping that the machine doesn't grab Amry's attention. Amry, conveniently, is listening to music loud enough in the other room that she can't process the conversation, thereby making it a non-issue. “alright, well. the “fuck” is this object that we found upon the dividing line between the blues and greens, which i would like to submit for further analysis if at all possible“

IT STINGS

“you are in pain?“

IS IT THAT OBVIOUS THE MULTITUDES CONTAINED IN THIS ARE... ...MULTITUDINOUS

“what wonderful formplay, machine. regardless, is there any semantic analysis that can be done on this?“

IT IS A COMMUNICATION DEVICE IT TAKES THE SHAPE OF A LOCAL LIFEFORM OTHER VARIABLES UNKNOWN

“you kid. that is it?“

SUCH IS

“do not “such is” me, i would like to determine what relevance this has“

IT CERTAINLY HAS RELEVANCE! HAHAHA BUT IT HAS TOO MUCH OF IT

“oh?“

DID YOU NOT CATCH THE PART WHERE IT LITERALLY STUNG ME OR SOMETHING SHIT HURTS IT IS BASICALLY AN INFORMATION BOMB

“so how do we extrapolate from it?“

I RECOMMEND TRANSMITTING RAW DATA FOR FURTHER RECONSTRUCTION OF SEMANTIC MEANING

“estimated time of inspection?“

ONE TICK

Great, Sekri thinks. Even more waiting, as if the time spent here wasn't already monotonous enough. “go ahead“

The machine whirs and clicks, the device rotating within the wall-maw as if on a turntable. Each individual piece of it is scanned with a beam of light extending from the insides, hyper-focusing on individual, easy to decipher, meaningless chunks: meaninglessness that is narrow enough to be processed and sent. Upon each scan, the device establishes a link with home, then beams the individual particle's data over, where the whole is reconstructed molecule by molecule, bit by bit, point by point, thoroughly and excruciatingly reforming every detail. While Sekri starts to leave the room to go do something else for the wait, he catches a glimpse through the transparent view into the wall's crevice. It's strange, really. The object looks... like it is content, both in the sense that it has no care in any world, but additionally in the sense that it is made for consumption. It is certainly a worthwhile candidate for reconstruction, its relevance being almost blinding, its orangeness seeming to seep through every nook and cranny of the light being cast onto it. It feels almost as if it's staring back. It feels as if it's alive.

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