Never Go There

Never Go There

                Pyremile had been wandering around the edge of the desert's blight for weeks. Slowly piecing together stories of the blight from those living beside it had allowed him to build an interesting picture of its horrors. Part-mechanical, part magical, part human beings wandered it, seemingly interested only in acquiring materials to make more like themselves.

                Perhaps, at least. How the beings were made - and whether they had ever been ordinary people - was unknown. If they had been, once, the alterations were extensive. Pyremile had been treated to an autopsy of one of the creatures. Despite being pulled apart, much of it still functioned without purpose. The parts attached to the brain seemed to be still seeking raw materials.

                During his wanderings he heard rumour of an underground arena, where humans (and others) pitted themselves against mindless constructs. One of the stars of this arena was said to be a construct herself. Rather than fighting for cash she would fight for access to the dead bodies of the things she fought - supposedly to make herself stronger.

                Getting to the small city that hosted the arena wasn't hard. It was a link in a trade route that quite amazingly went through the blight. The heavily guarded caravans that crossed would often capture a few constructs on the way through, and they were sold in the city to the arena master.

                Once there, tracking down the sentient construct woman proved difficult. Many Pyremile spoke to knew of her, but assumed she was simply a construct under the control of the arena owners. The arena owners denied this, but refused to direct him to her - supposedly several people had, in the past, sought to kill her for various reasons. Lost wagers and misguided vengeance primary amongst them.

                When he found her it was somewhat unexpected - he spotted her in a blacksmith, getting a sword bent back into shape. He'd looked twice because she was doing her own work despite obviously not being a blacksmith and then noticed that the sword was attached to her arm, disappearing up the sleeve of her long-sleeved shirt.

                "Excuse me," he'd said, "but are you the free-willed construct?"

                "Why?" she'd asked, apparently unconcerned. Her voice sounded somewhat strained, like something was wrong with her throat.

                "I was wondering if you could tell me about the blight. I'm investigating the blights around the continent for a series of books I intend to write."

                "Can you pay me for my time?"

                "Of course." After a short exchange specifying precisely how much would be paid - during which the woman had kept working on her 'sword' - they left for her rented home.

                Pyremile did spend some time examining her, however. She had looked quite normal from afar, but up close her skin looked sickly. Her eyes were mismatched, one a strange grey colour and the other black. Her eyelids were uneven as well; the one over her grey eye hung lower regardless of her expression (not that she was very expressive).

                Her hair was pitch black and looked as if it had been cut in clumps - some parts were short, while others were shoulder length. Her back was slightly crooked, causing her to constantly lean slightly to the left. Her left arm and leg were about five centimetres shorter than their right counterparts, and oddity Pyremile barely picked up on. All in all, she was very interesting despite a very average sized build. Pyremile wondered if he'd be able to examine her naked, for science.

                The woman's apartment was two rooms at the back of a house, quite close to the arena. The only furnishing was a comfortable chair; although pots littered the room. A query as to what they contained was answered with 'food'. The back room apparently contained more of the same.

                Pyremile sat down on an indicated pot and the woman sat herself down in her chair. "You can start asking questions. There's a few days until I have another fight," she said.

                "I don't think this will take that long, but okay," said Pyremile. "First up: what's your name?"

                "I'm not sure. I go by Emgee, mostly. It's from M. G., which stands for monster girl or mechanical girl - it's how I am referred to in the arena. I like it more than Emell."

                "But you had a proper name once?" The woman nodded in response to Pyremile. "Well, uh. I'm Pyremile, and how about we start with your story? The life you used to have, then what happened to you, then how you got here and what you've done since."

                "Okay. I don't remember much from before I was modified by the core structure. I think I lived in one of the towns bordering the desert. We knew about the creatures like me that wander it, trying to capture people. I was looking for something - foraging, maybe - when I was taken by surprise by two of the creatures. They bound me and carried me deep into the desert. I don't know how I survived that trip; I suppose they must have fed me, or they made very good time. Perhaps I died?

                "I'm not sure how long ago this was. I should be able to tell how much time has passed since I was changed but my internals are bugged. Instead of having perfect recall, I have a vague feeling. Still, it was at least a hundred years, possibly up to two hundred. I've tried comparing hearsay and rumours with the few historical records that exist, but I haven't found a clear answer."

                "Sorry to interrupt, but internals? What do you mean by that?"

                "I possess ... feelings, perhaps, is a good way to think of them. Feelings that provide knowledge of my current state to a greater degree than an ordinary human. Some don't work - I cannot tell the time, temperature or humidity accurately and instead rely on what remains of my human senses. Others do work: I can tell how long it will take me to heal and the extent of damage to my body, as well as precisely what I need to repair myself. My internals are quite useful.

                "There is a large blank in my memory in which I was modified into this form, but afterwards I saw it being performed many times. The subjects are - I would have been - placed upon a construction bed. Surgery is then performed to upgrade the central components - the spine and brain - as well as shifting physiological bases such as blood to." Emgee paused for a moment. "There isn't a word for it. Blood that can work with the new components and continues to supply the old, possessing advanced repair characteristics.

                "The second phase consists of proper upgrades. This is the phase in which things most often go wrong, and is the reason why most like myself are... Imperfect, yet operational. Firstly internals are tweaked and setup, which has a reasonable rate of success. Secondly, additional components are added from what is available to create units of varying capability. Most of these components... Do not work, or are difficult to correctly apply. I will show you mine now."

                Emgee rolled up her sleeves. Her right arm, the one Pyremile had seen a sword coming from, had a mess of scars running up her forearm. Just beneath her wrist there was a flat box of metal; square sheets beneath the back of her hand and palm but thinner on the sides. Her left forearm had a similar, yet less extensive mess. Much of it was hidden by an almost triangular segment of metal, bolted in just beneath her wrist.

                A sword shot out of a thin slot on the metal box. Pyremile hadn't noticed the slot, but it sat where the side of the box beneath the back of Emgee's hand poked out slightly. The triangle on her other hand clicked outwards, revealing that it was part of a stack of similar metal pieces. A second clicked out, then more, until they had come full circle and formed a shield.

                "These are my weapons," said Emgee, presenting her arms. "I am a fighter-type construct, intended to protect the core structure and if necessary assist in the acquisition of additional materials." Emgee lowered her arms, the sword and shield slipping back into their inactive positions as she did so. "Many fighter types are unable to utilise their weapons, or unable to retract them.

                "I remained as a guard in the facility, obeying the orders of the control sentience, until an accident damaged my leg. Fo-"

                "Sorry again, but how did an accident occur?"

                "There are incompletely functional workers just as there are incompletely functional fighters. The damage I had sustained I was unable to repair as I lacked the required minerals within my body. To repair myself, and because I was no longer an optimum guard unit, I was assigned to wander the desert in search of the required materials. I was also ordered to acquire other materials if possible. It is an order like this that most units are following.

                "While wandering I realised that I didn't have to obey the order. It sounds odd; since people are free to do whatever they please, but after I was modified up until that moment I just followed my orders. Realising it was strange - an 'oh' moment. Rather than continuing to pointlessly wander, I decided to leave my false 'purpose' behind and find civilisation.

                "Thinking for myself after so long was weird, but I quickly became used to it. When I reached civilisation I realised something else. My appearance is not conducive to a peaceful response, given the usual aggression of those like me. I was attacked at the first town I found, but my protests - and, though I did not realise then, my ability to speak in itself - convinced them that I was at least not mindless.

                "I spent a few months in that town, Ovver, looking into acquiring what I needed to repair myself. It was difficult - I knew the nature, but not the name, of what I need. These days I know both, thankfully, even of materials I have not yet needed. I eventually managed to acquire some, but not all, while working whatever jobs I was able to.

                "Travellers I encountered would often speak of an arena where those like me were taken and fought by gladiators. It did not sound like a fair fight, but the possibility of being a 'gladiator' myself and fighting my broken comrades sounded useful. I suspected - correctly - that the deceased units would possess the materials I required.

                "Upon arriving here I was accepted as a gladiator. 'Monster against monster' proved quite popular, and profitable, to the owners of the arena. They were able to provide me with what I required to repair myself after I struggled through my first fights, and since then have made available the other materials I need. I stockpile them within myself now that I have fully healed. It will be useful if I am ever severely injured again. That is the 'food' in my jars.

                "Learning to repair myself took some time. The obvious repairs, those accomplished with more ordinary human healing, were easy. But reconnecting the broken bone and shifting the damaged muscles required some... Fiddling. It took several attempts before I succeeded.

                "Now, though, my life is okay, but I do often wonder about the person I once was. Is my immortality something they would have desired? My strength? Beyond that, I am... readying myself, in case times change for plentiful. I fight constructs far weaker than myself - they are failures, and I am almost a success. It is an easy life. This is my story."

                "Thank you. That was... Quite interesting, I have to say. I have a few more questions, if you don't mind."

                "I have several days."

                "Good, good. Well, firstly, I'd like to know more about your 'strength'. How are you different from a human, besides the obvious?" In truth, it wasn't what Pyremile was most interested in. But that could wait - asking about the 'core structure' might make Emgee clam up.

                "I am stronger and harder to stop. That is, I can persist through damage that would disable or kill a human without dying. Severe damage requires extensive repairs. My physical strength is only slightly greater than that of a human but I am able to exert myself for extended periods so long as my energy intake requirements are met or my stores are high. That is to say, as long as I am fed well or have prepared myself for the task. My ability to repair myself also reverses wear that would normally be considered 'aging'.

                "Within my body are several components with varying purpose. They provide my additional senses and allow me to directly regulate my self-repair, as well as storage and material extraction. In places these are conversions or replacements of human organs. Externally visible elements are limited to these"- Emgee raised her arms -"and partial armour plating on my back. If more material had been available, I would likely be completed plated and unable to move."

                "Very interesting. If you would allow me to, could I draw you nude for my book? I do have drawings of others like yourself that I have seen autopsies of, of course. Your description of what lies beneath your skin matches up quite well with what I have seen."

                "I was unaware of your previous experiences. I would prefer to remain clothed and undrawn - I do not desire for my face and nature to be common knowledge."

                "Very well. Certainly the wiser course of action for you. Next I'd like to know about the place you were taken - the centre of the blight out in the desert. The information would be invaluable for my book."

                Emgee's face shifted to a worried expression - the first time Pyremile had seen it do anything. "It is not a good place to be. There are at least two hundred units patrolling the corridors, and the control system would also be hostile to any intruder."

                "I don't want to go there. I would just like to know about it, for my book."

                "Then please"- Emgee sounded earnest and pleading, the first emotion that had made its way into her voice -"make sure they don't go there."

                "I don't think people should go poking around any of the blights - they're called blights for a reason. If you'd please, can you describe the facility?"

                Emgee took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was back to normal. "Yes. It lies almost in the centre of the area marked on the maps. This is why the concentration of units increases dramatically as one makes their way to the centre. The core structure is a spherical facility built in this world by a group that came through a portal.

                "To my limited understanding the other units and I are intended to be replacements for automatons that do not work in this world. Many of the parts implanted into myself and others were cannibalised from non-functional automatons and failed experiments. The alteration of these parts to work within this reality and construction of units from raw materials happens in the manufactorum.

                "It is a large room with several isolation sub-chambers. Some are for delicate work and others are to isolate in-progress construction in case a unit goes rogue. No units went rogue during my time within the core structure. Machine limbs connected to the structure do much of the construction and alteration. They are assisted by worker units who primarily move materials around. In some instances the worker units fabricate additional materials from raw resources, although this is done elsewhere.

                "The rest of the facility is primarily dedicated to resource storage - nothing is wasted, so much of it is garbage and excess - and chambers for the workers to work within. Certain sections of the facility are broken beyond repair, and have been abandoned. Despite the wear and lack of fully functional units of any kind, the core structure remains operational." Emgee paused for a moment. "It would also be considered very dirty.

                "There is one other unique chamber in the core structure. It is the 'mind room', the brain of the intelligence that operates the machine arms, doors and sensors of the facility. It is also responsible for giving orders to all units. I am unsure why it still functions in this world. I have not seen it, so it is possibly... Something like me, but on a greater scale. If it is a failure itself much would be explained."

                Emgee stopped speaking. Pyremile let the silence drag on for a bit as he took it all in. "Intriguing. Perhaps I will ask for more details another day - colours, etc. But all this has made me wonder something else - how does the 'core structure'... run, I suppose? How does it continue to function, and how severe is the difference between what it intends and what it achieves?"

                "I have covered much already. Workers collect materials from the surroundings, which includes people. This is a haphazard process, and many are damaged or destroyed. However, units encountered are usually attempting to gather materials - stronger and more functional units are sent in groups to acquire dangerous materials. I have yet to fight such a unit in the arena, and I believe they are responsible for most disappearances.

                "The primary issue with the operation of the core structure is the lack of logic in its approach. It demands resource acquisition of units that are mentally almost non-functional, and units do not normally think beyond their instructions. This was true of me until I realised that I could. Resource acquisition is not focused on repairing and completing units, but instead on the next unit - the next experiment. The system-mind always tries new things.

                "If you meant in strength or otherwise, between units and the automatons, the gulf is great. A single automaton would have been able to level this city at full strength; and still deal it great damage this far from the entry. It is that level of strength that the system-mind compares us to, and finds us wanting beside. Thirty-two point two seven percent are completely non-functional, and only ten percent have at least human level functionality in all areas."

                Pyremile smiled. This was good material. "Thank you so much for describing this all to me. I think this is enough for today - but I will be back tomorrow for more details if you would allow it."

                "You are the one paying me. If you return tomorrow, you return tomorrow. But ..." Emgee's voice became pleading again. "Please. Don't rush off to investigate the core structure. Just... Never go there."