THREE: DENSITY
Standing motionless in doorways and parking lots Pigeons coo on the balconies – bone skull, by glass beach
> there's nothing here > i fail to understand what is difficult to comprehend about that < no, no, it was exactly the coordinates on the entity < youre just not searching right, theres got to be something around there, i know it > i have searched the entire perimeter of the thing here > it seems like an office of some kind, without wanting to draw conclusions. > did you forget about the fact that nobody is here? > we went inside but there was nothing of value < i didnt expect anybody to be there < i expected anything to be there > then what part of my statement fails to be processed? < i just... < look, those were the coordinates on the entity < i dont know where else to send you, youre going to have to go exploring > i really do not wish to mention that around amry, she will go ballistic < oh hush < you could use some of the enthusiasm > fine. LINK TERMINATED
Sekri stands motionless before the office in his wake. He's not looking forward to this whole “exploration” thing. It's much easier for him to do what he's told in this case — ingenuity isn't really his strong suit, as is abundantly clear. But someone has to break the news. Amry, meanwhile, is on a link with Marka. It doesn't seem particularly important. The link terminates around the same time as Sekri's. Unlike Sekri's response of vague indifference, Amry seems almost miffed about whatever she was told. “are you okay?”, Sekri asks, knowing that he's setting himself up for some serious emotional dumping. “it's- it's fine ≈:/ marka is merely the worrywart as always, insistent that i stay on task, insistent that i nail everything down before i do it, insist insist insist...”, Amry says, clearly almost fit to burst. “i cannot really work against the task focusedness, but i do imagine it is frustrating to hear him go on and on“ “right??? i just wish that he would treat me as if i knew what i was doing for once. my refusal to move up the ladder is not grounds for him morally proselytizing to me“ “why did you not go up to processing, anyways?“ “i just like it here, is all. i wish others would understand that ≈:[“ Sekri takes some pause. By all means, he has no qualms climbing the bureaucratic ladder, his needs flowing like the wind around his work. But that's clearly not what Amry needs to hear. “it is absolutely worthwhile, especially given your penchant for exploration“ “...i am glad you understand. at some points i wonder why i am dating him“ He doesn't understand at all. But she doesn't need to know that. “on that note... the coordinates led nowhere, as you can tell. i was instructed to go exploring. i imagine you would like to lead the way on this.“ “oh that is!!! oh alright i see“ “hm?“ “you want me to lead this charge yes? i can lead charges! absolutely ≈:D“ Sekri doesn't quite understand what that means, but it's clear that Amry is enthused and gets the point. “alright, carve the path”, he says, deciding to write it off.
The two begin marching aimlessly along the blackness on the surface. Amry, being ever the eager eye, notes that the ground beneath them, having significantly faded, seems to be largely disjointed: segmented into individual peppercorns, each of which seems to have their own story, many broken off the snake's body. Unlike before, neither have any idea where the snake will lead them or what their purpose is. So they opt to pass the time. “so what was he on about, anyway?”, Sekri says, unaware of the conversation that this question will stir. “it was just another routine check-in. it never seems to be anything nowadays, marka is far too busy with his strange aesthetic sensibilities and their development, and far too concerned with me and my life”, Amry replies. “he does seem to be the controlling type“ “that is an understatement- he attempted to intimidate me into promoting to processing! “wait, pardon? why?“ Amry doesn't respond, hoping that Sekri will connect the dots on his own. “...right.“ “it does seem like he just thinks i do not know what i am doing, as if i cannot take care of myself“ “i do think you are very competent, if that helps.“ “calls to competency are not required“ The thought gives Sekri pause, given his understandings. “right“ “i just wish i could recapture what we had before, when we were reading our novels and talking about them, him with his vampirism and mine with my-“ “i do not wish to hear about your novels, respectfully“ “hmph! ≈:O the point is the same, though, it feels as if we merely changed apart from one another“ “dispersal will do that to you...“ “well it should not change him! not all of him!“ “it is unfortunate but it is the way of things. i do empathize with you, truly, but i suppose i understand his material disposition“ Amry, somewhat annoyed by this response, raises her tone a bit. “i do not understand the need to uphold foreign bodies!!! if the whims of cognis cannot follow us here, they are irrelevant to me ≈>:[“ “i fail to see the relevance of the whims of anything, really, i would agree with you there- but if it keeps you from decaying, it is best to-“ “you sound just like him, you know“ Sekri pauses. “...sorry. not what you need to hear.”, he says. Already diverting from the maxim of listening and not advising. That's great. “i just want to support you, you know, so if i ever do slip up please do tell me“ “ok well i will and also did“ “that is good, then- ah, globes, what is that???“
Sekri can't articulate why this feels strange to him, but he knows it feels... well, he doesn't know. Something about this location is burrowing into him, and it hurts, as if the space around him is shifting. But he doesn't know why, what, or how. He just knows that it hurts, the pain seething through him as if an open incision, a dagger in his chest that he's had for all his life that is only acting up now. An inarticulate pain that refuses to explain itself. “sekri?”, Amry says, the sound emitting from her feeling like a piercing screech that buries itself in Sekri's audial receptors. “can we. go away from here”, Sekri says quietly. “is there an issue?“ “go, shut up“ Sekri looks away from the ostensibly harmless area, his gaze unwaveringly pointed straight ahead of him and nowhere near the sides. The two move wordlessly until he gives the clear. Amry, on the other hand, feels nothing of the sort, unaware of Sekri's emotions. But she doesn't need to know. After some distance, Sekri recomposes himself, his thoughts managing to actually point in a direction rather than every which way. He thinks to himself about the current situation, the current reality, the one where they are standing on this planet. They are nowhere else, and they cannot be anywhere else. They are here, in this moment. Amry knows better than to question what happened. It's very common for Sekri to suddenly lose grasp on the present when he's incredibly task-focused like this. She needs to break the tension somehow, but she doesn't know what to talk to Sekri about. The two walk for some time through a group of various blocky structures, each appearing to take the form of some kind of respite for each individual who once inhabited this space. They vary in color, but generally they tend to have strong tips, triangular prisms coating their heights and rectangular transparencies throughout their walls. Amry keeps staring out into the distance, attempting to recognize anything that could be interesting.
The two continue on this walk for some time. It's fairly obvious by now how this goes — Amry grabs something, Sekri goes “that's not important”, and they move on. The next thing of note, however, was unexpected. “sekri, look! a store!”, Amry says, pointing at a grey and brown structure coated with small cones for lighting. There lies a large excess of blackness outside of it, the surface blending with the one she is standing on. A stopped object lies outside of it, a long structure with many transparencies, circles coating its bottom. The side of it is labeled “NJ TRANSIT', though they don't know what that means. Similarly, the building is labeled “DOLLAR GENERAL”. They also don't know what that means. Sekri thinks to himself about this. By all means, it could be another one of Amry's random ideas, but it is a store, which he does know about. They should at least have enough time to take a look inside. “alright”, Sekri says, opting to head towards the transparency clearly indicated as a door.
The inside is lined with various objects of questionable relevance. It does bear a resemblance to their understanding of a store, of a place containing many objects for perusal, but the nature of the objects are different. Many of them seem to have representative sigils of their own, tying them to a greater conglomerate represented by these instantiations. The walls of the place itself are relatively banal: shelving lines the area, each with some designated purpose to them. Some things, though, catch their eye immediately, for one obvious reason. “this... is this the same thing?”, Sekri says. He picks up a smooth piece of white with an orange print, resembling the same entity that they saw earlier: one that he was told by Elsie's report was a “cat”. Regardless, the facial structure is the same, though in a very different configuration: it seems more as if he is smug, rather than content. In it, the cat is sitting down and holding an object of nearly the same shape. From outside the facial structure of the feline forms a gaseous formation, containing some words that Sekri is unable to read. They are: “You should scrape the paint off of this mug with your teeth.” ...Huh. Anyway. Sekri decides not to do that, on account of the fact that he didn't read it. He instead moves to another part of the conglomerate of smooth objects, and picks up another. This one also seems strangely smug, though the feline's paw is curling up back into itself and placing a hand on its stomach. It's very convenient that I know what this actually is now, Sekri thinks to himself. It makes reasoning about it easier. But that still doesn't help Sekri understand the printed text. This one says “I never met a dinner I didn't like”. He understands that it's language, of course, but not anything about it. “sekri are you okay?”, Amry says, noting the vaguely concerned posture Sekri is taking. Sekri gazes back at Amry, looking like he's about to go into a deranged rant or something akin. “how many are there?!?“ “how many what?“ Sekri starts grabbing object after object off the shelf, each with a familiarly feline visage. “representative sigil after representative sigil after representative sigil! it never ends!”, he says, cycling through almost like he's juggling. “sekri, calm down“ “i will calm down when i understand what the fuck this is!!!“ “for once i am not the enthused one ≅:P“ “i simply have never seen anything this unbelievably memetic before“ “you do not get out much, do you??“ “not until recently“ “well it makes sense that you would be surprised. concepts like this are relatively common in foreign cultures, in earnest!!! they are so fascinating to me, it is why i keep doing this“ “hm”, Sekri says. Maybe he misjudged a bit. That's neither here nor there, though. “are there any identifying markings on these? somewhere to tell us where to go next?“ Thankfully, the underside of the object seems to have text on it, though it will require further linguistic analysis. Sekri grabs a metric fuckton of these things, toting them around as if he was cradling a larva. For a moment, Amry seems to see a glimmer in his persona, one that she hasn't seen for quite some time. Perhaps it's dedication, but he seems genuinely enthused in a way. Happy, even. Maybe that's projection. “onward, then!!!!”, Amry says, trying to keep up the energy, but ending up sounding like a huge dork.
The two make their way back to the vessel. Inside lies the same old scenery, the same old pink and blue walls. For once, Amry decides not to retire to her quarters while Sekri does analysis, and instead accompanies him back to the computer room. “you could have asked me to carry some of those ♒︎:P”, Amry says. “mind your own business”, Sekri says, placing down all of the objects down on a nearby table. He speaks up to the computer. “load entity E-MEOW, incident report 102E-8.“
OK FINE THANKS
Sekri places one of the objects in the center of the machine as before. “thoughts?“
OK THE OTHER DATA HELPS THIS IS ALSO ALREADY A CLASSIFIED ENTITY SEE E-SIPCNT
“i do not care what it is, in truth, i just want to know the data on the bottom. is it a location? is it relevant?”, Sekri says. “i would have hoped you would be more excited to learn about it ♒︎:[”, Amry replies. “i am just trying to get this done as fast as possible, i do not want to spend more time here than we need to, given your state“ “i promise it is nothing to be concerned about ♒︎:P“ “yes, but-“
OH MY GOD BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP THIS IS WHY I HATE HAVING BOTH OF YOU IN THE SAME ROOM HERE ARE YOUR COORDINATES: 40.2561527, -85.3244845 IT WAS ON THE BOTTOM PLEASE LEAVE
“you seem angrier than usual”, Sekri replies.
I CAN STAND ONE OF YOU BUT NOT BOTH
“fair enough”, Amry says. Sekri reels. “what do you mean fair enough? of course it is not fair! this is a machine!“ “maybe i am partial to the whims of machinery, sekri ♒︎:]“ “you should not have to take insubordination out of a lowly entity, though.“ “i think we should care for it ♒︎:|“
OUT
“yes!”, Amry says, grabbing Sekri with a tendril and forcefully leading him out of the room.
The vessel lands outside the designated coordinates. Outside lies a large building of intricate geometries, clearly designed to accommodate a great number of entities with a similar goal. On the side lies a sigil of the entity Amry and Sekri have been tracing, as if a beacon to signal their progress. The sigil stands out as if alive, the relevance being nearly unfathomable: this mission is a clear candidate for Culture, Sekri thinks to himself, though he wishes that were not the case.
Amry is the first to speak up, as always. “it seems almost banal”, she says. “i would have expected greater enthusiasm from you”, Sekri replies. “yes, certainly, but look at it! it is just an office like before. what is to say there is anything in it???“ “do you not see the sigil on the side? it is oozing relevance”, Sekri says, pointing. Amry stares at the side of the brown walls, where Sekri points. “sekri... are you sure there is anything there?”, she says. “...i see it myself, do you not? a large orange paw, surprisingly similar to mine, though that is not important“ “no... ~:/“ “alright, i suppose. i trust that there will be something important here, the symbology is too intense for it to be otherwise.“ “whatever you say boss!!“ “don't call me boss”, Sekri says, as he walks through the door in the front, Amry following.
The insides are dark, but inviting, as if the insides of a beast. The grains on every single bit of the walls seem to be noisy, as if every single part of this area is ripe for deconstruction. By all means, this is standard for an Overload, but Sekri has never seen one before. But this entire area seems almost... playful, one resembling something fun, something at the very least meant to be humorous. Overload classification is usually reserved for deities or their kin, so what gives? “this feels almost like a place of worship”, Amry says, “but there is no altar“ “it is quite possible, you know”, Sekri says, “that this culture simply has many dense entities“ “yes, but it is usually... there is usually a pattern ~:[”, Amry says, noting the strangely reverent and simultaneously childish imagery. “this... this is different?“ “different how?“ “i do not know“ “the task is the same, you know“ “the task the task the task... i am just counterintuitive in it“ “counterintuitive?“ “i mean interested, sorry ≅~:P“ Sekri, mostly perplexed, continues his march through the inside. The building is lined with alarmingly sacred geometries for something that should be a banal office: it feels sleek, modern almost, despite these words meaning nothing. The representative sigils of the entity line the halls, each with their own idiosyncrasies that make them somehow unique, the standard patterns failing to repeat. But they are still patterns, nonetheless: despite their touches, they are still recognizable as related. This is strange to Sekri — again, in standard procedure, most Overloads have something that tends to repeat near-exactly. Above the stairwell lies some kind of language, though it is unable to be processed. The information in the one word is so dense that it refuses to be picked apart into its constituent Understandings, tightly packed as if to serve as some kind of container, a crystalline form of its Concept. They understand it to be a proper noun, of course, but unlike most proper nouns, it has no generalization they can find. Given that it fails to be uttered, rendered, or understood, there is only one reasonable conclusion that they can make. “is this god???”, Amry says. Sekri snaps. “what???? of course it is not god. what are you talking about.“ “i just think-“ “amry, foreign concepts are not to be trusted“ “it is just that it is such revered, it is so severed, it is so-“ “i am concerned about you a bit. you seem strange“ “~:?“ “like that. do you not usually use a different sign in your messaging? you have been inconsistent with it throughout“ “i have no idea what you could mean“ “you have used like three or four different ones. i am very perceptive when it comes to this.“ “well i have no thoughts on that meaning anything!!!“ “and that sentence. that barely coheres“ Amry starts a thought. “well-”, she says, failing to construct anything that would please Sekri's concerns. But she notices something else to her left. “eeeee!!!”, she says. To her left, there's a pile of- Oh no.
Sekri mimics a facepalm. “amry, please-”, he says. But it's already too late. Amry's voidform has already near integrated into the pile of strangely feline plush toys. “are they not cute?? sekri you cannot tell me they are not cute ~:O”, she says. “that is fine, but we are here for a reason, you know this, yes?“ “it... hehehehe”, Amry says, squeezing one of the plushies between two tendrils. Good lord, Sekri thinks to himself. Is he going to have to do everything on his own? “urgh, fine, i will handle this.”, he says. It makes sense in retrospect — if Amry was just experiencing larval regression, her ecstatic behavior is probably a result. Nothing to be too concerned about, at least, which is good. Sekri looks around the rest of the room while Amry proceeds to blabber incoherently. Similar to the store from earlier, shelving lines the area, but unlike the store, everything is arranged purposefully, and they all bear the same signs of the entity they chased down: the same facial structure, the same coloring, the same recognizable stylistic quirks, the same geometries. It all feels almost sublime in nature, like the entire room itself was designed to instill a mood: a deliberately misleading space, a hall of concepts so deep they could form civilizations in their own right. Maybe Amry was right, Sekri thinks to himself. Maybe this is their God, one so overwhelmingly memetic that even a facsimile becomes recognizable, general-purpose sigils from a bygone age. By all means, it has similar reach to a God, it has the same density as a God, at least any notion of God that Sekri has seen. Its very naming and its unintelligibility places it in the same category as most deities. But again, acceptance of foreign concepts is not to be, and analysis with them is even more taboo. Sekri strolls through the area. More and more shallow facsimiles of the raw concept emerge, many similar to the one Sekri picked up. In fact, a near-perfect example of the same double-pronged apparatus he picked up on the line between the blues and greens lies on the shelving. He picks it up, noting that it hasn't suffered the same environmental decay as the ones there, the facial structure being as perfectly retained as everything else here. The entire area feels like nothing but a setup. Perfect.
LINK: TRAGICALITY > PERTINENCE > i think we have found its genesis < Oh? Already? > the entity we are searching has very significant memetic properties, it was very easy to locate it > its culture appears to have significant reverence for it, at the very least > you can see what i see, yes? i should have that working < Naturally. > take a note of everything.
Sekri walks around the room as if he's trying to document something, his eyes becoming the vigilant gaze of a documentarian. Every single entity in the room gets its gaze beamed back to Marka's sight. One thing catches his eye, though.
< Can you look at the framed object towards the right of the room? > of course
Sekri walks towards the framed object. Inside is a thin slip of faded paper, one that has clearly seen better days, environmental decay thoroughly destroying it. But the image remains, clear as day, its relevance effectively oozing to the point where it is near imperceptible, its full force being unable to be comprehended. Yet it is comprehensible to Sekri, and to Marka as well: and they instantly know what it is, a cultural artifact of days long past, unparalleled in its raw power.
< Ah. < This is almost certainly it, then. > you have made notes already, yes? < Certainly. This... it seems as if it is some kind of pivotal point in this entity's history. < It being framed denotes something, otherwise it would not be in such a key location.
Marka thinks to himself. There are some obvious facts about this: it's drawn in a style that seems to be cartoonish, it's segmented into three parts, and it has language involved. The actual contents elude him: once again, he sees something that is clearly E-MEOW and representative of the same thing that Elsie was writing about earlier, but it doesn't seem to make sense. ...But maybe it's not supposed to. Three parts. Three acts. A setup, a confrontation, and a resolution: an inciting incident, a midpoint, a climax. But that doesn't seem to make sense: clearly this cannot be some grand epic, a literary masterpiece to be revered, but something cartoonish, something reminiscent of the simplistic stories given to larvae. Something that has a three act structure of its own. Oh.
< It's a joke.
CLICK!
> what? this is not the time for belittling- < No, you dunce, I meant it literally. < This is meant to be humor. > how do you know that? < Look at the individual frames, the frame-within-the-frame. < The first two are similar, but the last one is significantly different. Why is that? > because they do not know what they are doing? < Ah, but you make the mistake of being dismissive. < It sets something up, it reinforces something, and it then subverts it. < It is a setup, a reinforcement, and... > ...a punchline. < Elementary. < It explains the brevity of each of the entities you have seen thus far as well. < Every single one is meant to be humorous, though we are unable to see it due to the linguistic barrier. > and what do you want to do with that information? < Well, this is a very dense entity. It seems like a Culture candidate, though that is not my decision, clearly. < That Understanding should allow me to find it, at the least. > but what about amry? > i have failed to mention it, but she is acting somewhat erratic < ...I did tell her that this was likely. > what? < We had a discussion about this. She did refuse her promotion, meaning that the whims of Cognis provide not for her. > she did talk about this, but i did not envision that it would- < I do care for her, I really do. < But... < This is out of my control, unfortunately. I hope you can find something else. > marka- LINK TERMINATED
SHIT. What the hell, Sekri thinks to himself. The entire purpose of this mission was to solve the issue of Amry's decay, and yet he wants to claim this for Culture? It's an Overload, it makes sense bureaucratically, but surely he can let this one slip. He has to, doesn't he? Does he understand the mission in truth? Did his briefing on the parameters make sense? It's very rare for a Retrieval team to be dispatched solely for purposes of decay prevention, though not unheard of. But maybe he was wrong, maybe he was misled. But the Arbiter would never mislead him, his faith in the whims of Cognis never shaken. This can't be true, and so it won't be. He tries to link up with Marka again.
LINK: TRAGICALITY > PERTINENCE < What. > we are not done here! > what in the name did you talk about? > what is this mission for? < I understand your concern, but I cannot tell you that, in truth. < I am beholden to the same rules as you, am I not?
Sekri shudders. He can't believe that this is a thing that's happening right now. They don't have time, for fuck sakes, he's going to have to put Amry back in the pod again. They're already pushing the upper limits of how far she can decay without dissolution of her Concept. What the fuck is this guy's problem?
> she is fucking dying and you- < We do not use that word. > i do not mean to lash out but- < I think you already have. > WILL YOU STOP ACTING LIKE A FUCKING COP AND LISTEN TO ME? > DO YOU WANT HER TO FUCKING DIE? > BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU DO THIS > DENSITY THIS, DENSITY THAT, SHE NEEDS THIS < Rare for you to raise your tone. > no, this is worth tone-raising for. > do you not care about her? < Of course I do, but I can only go so far to save people from themselves. < My agonizing won't do much good anymore. > ...you make me sick. LINK TERMINATED
Clearly pissed and with everything to prove, Sekri dashes over to the other side of the room. Amry is still incoherently babbling in the pile of plush toys, happy as can be. Unfortunately, he has to be the bearer of bad news, and from someone as important to her as Marka. But how's he supposed to make a conversation with her now? Is this even regression, or is it decay? Fuck. Sekri speaks up. “amry-“ “hiiiii sekri!!!!”, she replies. Shit. That intonation can't be good, it never is. It's the call of someone who's clearly in out of her depth, one who's not in the mental state to process much of any coherent information, let alone something this federally fucking terrifying. How in the hell is he going to break this to her? “i just got off a link with marka, and-“ “ohhhh?? ~:O“ “right, and i think we need to retreat to the vessel“ “why???? comforble“ “yes i get that but i need you to understand you are in danger. frankly i would pick you up and run you there if i had the chance“ “i do not wanna ~:[“ “i cannot get you to do this, amry, you need to understand it is in your best interest”, Sekri says. God, he has no fucking experience with this. He should have figured this out earlier. This is not the right time- “if i do not wanna i do not wanna you retarded fucking bunghole bitch!”, Amry says. Wow, uh. “i need you to-“
And that's when it hits.
Amry shudders. Her entire voidform convulses, the hole stemming from the contradiction at her center failing to synthesize, the thoughts running through her head prohibitively incoherent. It feels like a dam failure, as if a hole had been punctured in her mind, letting the internals spill out, begging to be let out, screaming- “hhhhhhhhhrrrrrk”, she emits, with various unknown fluids spilling from every orifice of her body, or lack thereof. On the ground lies a pile of black goo, slowly fading in color gradually from random points as if a form of static, as if it was never there at all, the very being constructing her Concept self-immolating until it is nothing. She can't take much longer like this, and she knows it. She tries to cry for help, but she can't make any more noises. She won't let that be her last fucking words. But Sekri notices. He was wrong. Immediately, he rushes to her side. He would ask if she's okay, but he already knows the answer to that. He knows he can't even talk to her. He tries to establish links. Marka would come first, but clearly his dumb fucking ideas about bureaucracy are clouding his judgment. Who else even is there? Elsie? Can they even help?
LINK: TRAGICALITY > CLEVERNESS < well this is unexpected, for what do i owe the honor- > not the time > how do i prevent advanced decay < oh no < is everything okay? > if i am asking that question, do you think it is okay? > you fucking know why we are here!!! < ok gdmmt < is the vessel nearby > no < leave her here. run. now!