The Drift Machine

The Drift Machine

                John's Land. Once, it was Plensgrath. Before that, Far Bounty. Before that... It had many other names.

                Though it took the inhabitants many generations to realise, the pattern became obvious to all with time. The country - sometimes countries - that made up the 'area' would be conquered, often renamed by the conqueror. Legends tell of times when the area was merely incorporated into empires, but the now-wiser neighbouring lands have long since made a tradition of granting rulership to a favoured general, or younger child. Empires that incorporated the 'area' have always fallen, for the same reason the land is perennially conquered.

                Each conquering brings new people to the 'area'. Violent (comparatively, at least) conquerors, new rulers. Sometimes they intermix with the local populace, sometimes they don't. A few times the entire population has been slaughtered. It doesn't change anything. The next few generations - whether or not they are related to the previous inhabitants - will become progressively more peaceful. Not just in action, but also in word and deed.

                This effect, occurring in the midst of a war-torn continent, makes them easy prey to plunder. The 'area' is fertile, and mineral rich; and when the former conquerors finally become mostly unable or unwilling to fight, it is invaded again.

                Dytja, the wandering hero of a thousand wars and countless adventures, knew this much when she wandered through the 'area'. Two generations back it had been invaded; and even she - unfamiliar with the land - could see the effect between the generations. In another generation or two John's Land would be conquered once more.

                But on the far side of the 'area', a old man - a wizened grump, born in the area but scarcely different from his parents - recognised her. He requested an audience - in truth, he demanded, but his men were not enthusiastic about making demands. Dytja was intrigued and agreed.

                The 'soldiers' (who were so unthreatening Dytja had a hard time believing that they weren't priests of some benevolent deity) led her respectfully to the domicile of the local mayor. The soldiers introduced her to the man who had recognised her - he was the Lord General of the Western Army.

                "That's enough, kids, guard the door and let me speak with her alone," the General said.

                "Yes sir!" responded the soldiers, saluting perfectly and marching out.

                "They've got a lot of heart, but barely any steel," said the General, watching them go. "I took the 'worst' cases on as my honour guard, hoping to mould them into real fighters... But I can't beat this place."

                "I've heard a lot about it as I've wandered through this place," replied Dytja. "And a lot of hearsay and theories."

                "Well, here's another theory: it all has to do with an experiment by the original rulers of this world. But first, an introduction that includes my name: I am General Alvin," the General said.

                "I am Dytja, as you noticed," she replied.

                "It's good to me someone such as yourself. Legends from the lands you've been to have been heard even here - is it true that you were born on another world?" he asked.

                "Yes, although not quite 'born'. Why have you requested my presence?"

                "I want to make a request. There's an old facility of the original rulers in the centre of the 'area' as we all seem to call it. The centre of John's Land. It's incredibly hard to reach - surrounded by a moat of an acidic liquid, then huge, jagged cliffs, then another moat. Each region is full of guard creatures - the outer moat has been cleared by prior expeditions, and part of the ring of cliffs, but the inner moat has barely been seen, let alone crossed.

                "I would ask that you journey through it, to the facility in the centre, and explore it. See if you can find some cause within that would alter our people towards... Complete pacifism. Pointless pacifism. I understand that what has been done will likely not be undone, but we may survive yet if the process is stopped," the General said. He looked at Dytja solemnly as he awaited an answer.

                "Sure," replied Dytja. "So, how wide are these moats?"

                A couple of weeks later, Dytja stood at the outer moat. She had dug up all the information she could find about the facility and its surroundings - records of prior expeditions, wanderers, and others; some dating back thousands of years. The outer moat was acidic, but clear of dangerous creatures. The jagged cliffs - barely climbable - were swarming with flying terrors that fed off smaller inhabitants of both moats, and the terrifying grubs that infested the lower regions of the cliffs. And the inner moat - hordes of titanic crocodilian lizards swam and lazed about within it.

                Dytja had seen defences like these before. The former inhabitants of the world, when thousands of forsaken armies, monsters, and other horrors had streamed in through the portals, had fortified several locations they wished to keep meddlesome wanderers out of as they tried to either flee through or close the portals.

                It worked like a charm, in most cases. Knowledge of how the defences worked and flight capability (that would subvert many) was lost along with the former inhabitants. Those that didn't die or leave lost track of their roots and blended into the many other human populations that came to the world, amidst the rubble of their civilisation (not that there was much evidence of their presence outside their mega-cities and isolated labs - they were great conservationists, amongst other things).

                But Dytja knew the tricks of this particular kind of defence. She'd never seen this exact defence, but records she had read once - long ago - had chronicled the efforts of several scientists to seal off labs that contained irreplaceable but potentially dangerous experiments. Often, these were not truly dangerous - experimental versions of the machines that prevented language drift by unifying language, for example - but others would be easy to retool to cause mass destruction.

                This particular defence - rings of seemingly insurmountable danger with flying 'defenders' - always included one major caveat. The laboratory would be connected to the tunnel network that linked together the various machines buried deep under the earth; and more importantly, an access point would be nearby.

                It only took Dytja a couple of hours to find it with a tool in her possession. An advantage of living so long and travelling so far, she possessed many tools. This particular one identified the presence of the world's native magic, even if it was hidden by illusions designed to prevent normal detection. It had been created to help the world's former in habitants find lost objects that attempted to hide themselves; but Dytja had repurposed it to find anything they had wished to keep hidden.

                Under a few feet of dirt (and hidden by an illusion that made it look, and even feel, like more dirt) Dytja found the entrance. A brief wave of another device - this one being an identity card that had all-access privileges - and the entrance opened, revealing stairs heading down into the earth.

                Dytja entered, closing the entrance behind her. After she finished inside the lab, she would return and rebury the entrance. She had long since learnt a lesson about giving advanced technology away freely.

                The walls of the stairwell glowed softly, lighting the way clearly. Dytja descended, heading at least twenty metres underground before the stairwell changed into a tunnel that headed - Dytja assumed - straight to the lab.

                The tunnel was spotlessly clean, the off-grey walls composed of a concrete like material completely untouched by the passage of time. It was the result of magic imbued into the material itself, preventing the growth of moulds and warding off insects as well as dust. Even facilities that had seen frequent use when operating - or were still in use as housing - were almost immaculate despite the passage of thousands of years.

                It stretched on in front of Dytja, seemingly infinite before and behind her. It was a natural illusion - the stairs were too far distant to be visible, and ahead the tunnel would extend into the maintenance tunnel network that connected various machines deep beneath the surface. Most were used to prevent language drift (and were the reason that various native languages had been lost, replaced with the language of the former inhabitants bar a few pieces of slang), and the rest were generally responsible for controlling weather patterns. Despite the age of the machines, only a few rare exceptions were functioning at less than 100%.

                Nearly an hour later, Dytja saw a ladder up ahead. It would lead to the lab's lowest maintenance level, which would probably lie just above the 'sealed' section - the place any rogue machine would have been stored while the security measures were put into place. With a bit of luck, Dytja's card would get her into there - otherwise she'd have to attempt to reverse the security protocols engaged when the laboratory was abandoned.

                About thirty feet of ladder stretched up above her. As with the access tunnel, the way up was lit by the walls themselves. The ladder was painted grey, and thankfully - unlike the rest of the tunnel - it did not glow.

                Dytja climbed the ladder. At the top was a small, semi-circular room, with a door on the straight side marked as leading into the lab. She swiped her card, causing the doors to open with a soft swishing noise. Benefits of civilisation, Dytja thought to herself, bemused. It was rare to run into such conveniences, except in the empty buildings left over from long ago.

                The corridor beyond was brighter than the tunnel, and lit by small lights placed into the ceiling. They, too, would almost forever glow brightly; lighting the laboratory for almost a million years before dimming. The former inhabitants of the world had truly mastered their technology and magic - tragically the reason for their downfall being caused by the magic of other worlds, not theirs. They had thought all magic mastered, stable; but the bleed-through effect from another world had caused their calculations to be worth naught.

                Dytja's plan - as usual for her - was to investigate the building, browsing through old records to determine what had been done here (and perhaps learn more of the lost civilisation) before 'fixing' the problem. Likely by destroying the machine - even if it could be turned off, a machine with the effect observed was... Not something she believed should be left for others to find.

                The first thing she checked, however, was the security room. Though sadly lacking camera technology (something she had encountered several times, though mostly before she had become stuck on this world) the advanced sensors would inform her if anything - even small insects - was present, given the right settings.

                It didn't take her long to find a map that gave her clear directions to the security room. Maps, signs and other indicators were very common in all facilities she had been to, with only a handful of exceptions (all had turned out to be private domiciles). A short walk later, she was there - and inside one swishing door later.

                The main security console consisted of a large flat surface on which text or simple diagrams would display (glowing on the apparently stone surface). Above it, covering the entirety of the three metre tall, ten metre wide wall were a large array of lights. They were arranged into several sections; each represented a floor. Within each, the lights were vaguely laid out in the pattern of the floor itself. By adjusting the settings, one could detect to any degree of fineness desired; or set alerts and other useful things.

                Deftly utilising the touch screen, Dytja checked the lab for the presence of anything, the status of the doors, and pulled some data up from the tunnels beneath to ensure that they too were empty. Satisfied that nothing (and more importantly, no-one) was present barring herself, she briefly checked the defences.

                An accurate assessment from the locals, she thought. The report clearly showed that the outer moat had been emptied and the cliff-side partially cleared; but that the inner (and most dangerous) moat was in perfect working order. Despite being cobbled together from rogue but controllable creatures brought in from other worlds as theirs was destroyed, the biological defences left behind were incredibly well constructed. Though they had not always lasted thousands of years undamaged, they were often still standing - a feat, considering that the technology had been young when the world was ruined.

                She called up a map, checked it, and left the room. She'd look into the history of the site, and then head down the elevator to the sealed levels. The lowest of them was the only place in the lab that reported any active devices, despite the presence of many.

                It was hard for Dytja to resist kissing her access card after it granted her full access to the central administration computer. From it, she could access all data stored within the base; and with the 'user level' the card assigned to her she was allowed to by the system.

                "Let's see what we have," she said with a smile.

                Reading inhumanly fast (and thoroughly), Dytja delved into the purpose, history and 'present' of the lab. Like several other similar facilities, it had been constructed to investigate the possibilities of 'wide-area effecting machines'. These varied in function, but often controlled (to a varying degree) the weather, natural life, or people. Due to the nature of their society, only rarely did they experiment with things often considered immoral (such as altering the behaviour of humans, or in other ways). These rare experiments were usually done out of curiosity and hope that similar effects could be used to wipe out disease, violent behaviour (though both were exceptionally rare, the result of other technologies and the general demeanour of their society).

                But in places like this, they existed. The records listed many such experiments - most done on a small scale. Mind control, general physical boosting, alteration of offspring (far easier to achieve than altering the parents). Most of the machines had been designed to work on animal life, and not only had they been destroyed after their experiments were completed but someone had actually deleted the data on their construction/maintenance from the system completely. It was as Dytja had expected - after they realised they were doomed, they had taken many steps to ensure many technologies were lost forever, given the uses they could be put to.

                It was information about the altering of offspring that led Dytja to find the machine she sought. It was an old experiment, a wide-scale application machine that was intended to prevent the genetic drift of the populace to something more warlike. Many had feared it was possible that such would happen over time - though their history was lacking in war, what they saw in nature and had seen in other worlds had made them scared. In the end, they had decided against utilising it - the idea of forcing a population to be uniform, instead of allowing it to grow and become whatever it would be it good or bad flew in the face of their approach to life.

                But the machine had not been destroyed then. It worked, and it had been kept in case later, similar experiments - perhaps, several reports noted, later experiments to improve the health of the population - could use it as a base. And though the details of its construction had been purged, the machine itself had been left intact.

                What was more difficult to figure out was why. Dytja found the orders that had been issued, requesting the destruction of several potentially dangerous machines (and the mass deletion records). Confirmed destruction reports of all of them... Including what was obviously the one she sought. Conflicting records indicated that the machine had instead been stored; seemingly the administrator of the facility had desired to do something with the machine...

                "Oh," said Dytja, as she pulled up some of the administrator's private files. In a personal journal, the administrator wrote that they intended to activate the machine and use it to keep her race alive - by changing the descendants of the invaders.

                'They will not be truly of our race, but they will become worthy successors, unlike their parents, grandparents. Peace will not be lost from the world forever.'

                "Not the best approach," muttered Dytja. The mystery was solved.

                The rest of the information was interesting, but rather particular to individual experiments. Nevertheless, Dytja was kept enthralled for hours, working through screen after screen of records. A few times she used her full access to delete records - forgotten diagrams and information that could be pieced together to realise horrifying possibilities. Most usefully, perhaps, she committed to memory a map of the local (roughly one thousand kilometre across) tunnel networks, along with all access points. She also took note of a few storerooms within the lab that were supposed to still contain various useful tools (such as everlasting lights) that she would pinch on the way out.

                But before raiding the store rooms, she would descend down to the restricted section and destroy the machine. It only took a handful of minutes - a few corridors, a trip down in a lift (built much like the rest of the building - solid without joins, a peaceful grey, lit by small but bright lights), and through a few doors to the 'restricted storage' room.

                The entry panel beeped affirmatively as Dytja waved her card in front of it. The door swished softly into the wall, exposing the room behind. It was - in contrast to most of the facility - a complete mess. Countless machines inside had been smashed, leaving pieces of white siding and internals (a mix of tubes and magical stones or symbol lattices - the norm for this world) strewn across the floor. There had been no time to clean up the mess as the world was ravaged.

                The remains of the machines varied in size, but mostly stood as damaged, broken shells around the room. Occasionally there was an untouched machine, or one with minimal damage (likely struck by accident), standing as a simple white box with a grey screen embedded on one side. And a few of those destroyed were not as thoroughly broken as Dytja would have preferred.

                The active machine - the drift machine that Dytja sought - was very obvious. The official designations scrawled onto each machine were small and hard to see, but as it was active the drift machine glowed softly - and several indicator lights reported details of its status. Dytja sauntered over to it and took a look.

                Impressive, she thought, a slight smile on her lips. Only on a handful of occasions had she seen such machines, and they had been far smaller (perhaps the size of a small box). It was somehow related to their complexity - the weather machines, though incredibly powerful in effect, were quite tiny; even those unifying language were larger.

                The drift machine was a three metre cube - not perfect, but quite close. Although the makers of the devices had a preference for rather extreme neatness, this was not reflected by the form the magical symbols had to take. But they tried, and they sealed each machine within a simple white box to hide the messy and widely varying internals.

                Using the interface screen, Dytja called up details of the devices operation and success. Two fairly large warnings showed themselves almost immediately - the first indicating that the machine had noted huge physiological drift and that it had probably failed or was faulty; the second a message simply stating "DO NOT TURN OFF".

                After Dytja finished checking the details of the machine's operation (luckily nothing unusual she needed to see to) she called up the warning again. She then drew her sword, and with a slight giggle, cut the machine in two. One half slid down the angled cut and toppled onto the floor as both parts popped and fizzled lightly. The machine went dark, too damaged to continue functioning. Technically, she hadn't turned it off.

                A couple of hours (and a lot of additional destruction) later Dytja had made it all the way back to the maintenance entrance. She shovelled the earth back over it, sealing it against accidental intrusions.

                A couple of days (and a lot of riding about) later Dytja stood before General Alvin once more. She told him that she had destroyed the machine, and that the next generation would be free of its effects. The General thanked her profusely, but she advised him to hold off celebrating her success. At least until the children could be tested, to ensure they were no less violent than their parents.

                A couple of weeks (and a lot of walking) later Dytja was on a ship, sailing off to a faraway land once more. Somewhere she had never been before.