I live in sickness, I live in spinningThe whole wide world is a carousel
Ever so slowly, I return to consciousness. Laying on the couch and staring across the room at the wall, and my desk. I'm getting a light headache. Normally I'd assume it's from dehydration, but I have other suspicions. Were it not for my ability to feel them, both on my back, in my head, and at the edge of my mind, I'd have probably thought st night was a dream.
I can feel the wound now, too. Tendrils reaching in through a slit on my back. It subtly aches, but something is keeping it from truly starting to sting.
I have a vague picture of this situation. The creature on my back is a… Corda? I have access to some of their knowledge, but it's limited. Some sort of operational security is in pce here. They have to get approval before sharing more information, but they've allowed me a bit of terminology for one reason or another. Maybe it’s a side effect of building a proper transtion.
I sort of know their name now. 'Wayward Two-Seventeen' is their designation. It's simir to a code name, though not exactly. They have this title as part of the scouting operation they’re engaged in. Any more than that, I can't quite discern. They seem to be withholding more until we can negotiate more clearly. I can tell they also sometimes refer to themself as Cascade. That name… I think they might have personally considered the English transtion.
I feel Wayward begin to stir, it seems they were in need of rest as much as I was. They had been kept alert by some imperative to finish their duty, but they settled into something like sleep after finishing their nguage model. My own consciousness seems to naturally wake them. It's indirect, but I can feel their mind start to properly process information again. Comfortable enough on the couch, I wait for something to happen.
-
For the first time in a long time, one was resting while linked to another. FC managed to get automatic monitoring systems online by the time we had built the nguage model. Tired, one let the automatic systems cover us while we rested and regrouped
We started reintegration right after the human, Lay, went to sleep. The process would take some time, but compartmentalization wasn't really necessary, now that one was doing something a little more interesting. Dividing the mind like this is looked upon poorly by Corda society, but FC was willing to overlook it if we complied with the mission.
The human, Lay, is awake. She's not moving much, just ying there and thinking. Her thoughts are guarded, a skill she picked up surprisingly quick. Mostly, it seems she is doing it out of courtesy for each others’ rest.
The kindness is surprising. We hardly feel like it is owed, but she seems to have an understanding of the situation. That, or… or what? We reach out, a gentle request to communicate. It's time to expin ourself.
-
They want to talk. Or communicate- whatever. I wonder if they'll speak through me again. I know, now, that it was unnecessary. They found it helpful for me, to get through the shock of the initial connection.
Wayward conveys their intent. I'm given three options, broadcasted to me through the link. First, they offer to disconnect at any time, should I not be comfortable. They have a functioning English model, and while it may not be perfect, we can try to have a conversation using it. The speech would be synthesized, since Wayward doesn't have much ability to vocalize.
The connection is, honestly, extremely personal. I'll admit, there are things about myself I don't exactly love to share. I'd expect Wayward to have already had plenty of time to learn them, though. They've had their fingers in my head for a few hours already. This link clearly facilitates communication much better than speech. They can show my mind how to understand a concept while it is expined.
If I am okay with staying connected, the second option is to talk like we did st night. Wayward can filter their own thoughts through my frontal lobe. While I doubt it's actually as simple as it sounds, they can compel me to speak for them, while we're like this. It's a little disconcerting to share control like that, but it's pretty simir to a real conversation.
Last, we can just communicate mind to mind. It's technically the easiest. We just think at each other. It seems like it shouldn't be that easy, but it is.
“I need some water,” I say, carefully standing up and hobbling over to my kitchenette. My sleeping posture wasn't great, and I'm sore as a result. Wayward shifts around into a more appropriate position for standing.
As I reach up to the cupboard to grab a gss, I make up my mind. I don't hate this configuration and we're already linked. Let's try it the “easy way".
"Okay", I say, opening up to them, offering consent.
They start immediately, Corda are heavily adapted to communicating through the link or, by proxy, through a host. We evolved as symbiotic parasites- by the time we were intelligent enough to invent spoken nguage, we had little initial need for it.
Setting the gss down and trying not to get too mixed up, I step over to the fridge. Opening the door, I reach for the filtered water pitcher.
We did not want to force you into this link. A link to another intelligent being - without consent - is not only violent, we consider it a crime. Unless there is a very good reason. We were given a reason. We are unsure the reason will be good enough for you...
Picking up the pitcher, I close the fridge and start to pour a cup. Watching it pour, Well, you should find out anyway. It might not excuse the action completely but I’ll at least try to understand. Finished, I set the pitcher in the sink.
You… you raise a good point. We, no… how do you express it?... I did not come up with the tactic I used with you. The chief advisor on this mission, Field Command (FC), identified this as a reasonable strategy if the conditions called for it. They are a highly intelligent Flora, designated 'Metasequoia Joiner' outside of operational parameters. When you discovered me, and I scanned your vitals, FC analyzed the data. Identifying a lone individual was a strong condition, and your neural profile was estimated to be appropriate, so I was commanded to form a link by force.
Finishing a long sip while I process, I put the cup down. You didn’t even have that option, from before. You did it so you could just pick up the nguage from me?
Correct, as well as gain access to surface level information. Information like you have, the basics of life on earth for a human. We have more context to work with now.
I don’t think I should be okay with it in the way that I am. Wayward isn’t trying to manipute me about it, either. I’m not sure they can? If they did, it would be apparent, I think. I could tell if the intention was there. They could be good at hiding it, I suppose.
It was certainly violent, as they expressed. They took steps to make it less distressing, which hardly helps that the act itself is inherently very distressing. Even if I had known what was coming, would I have consented? The answer surprises me.
Wayward, I don’t bme you for doing this. The logic of it is sound enough. I will judge future viotions harshly, though. It is a moral line you should avoid crossing - humans will not react well. I will not react well.
-
One is certainly getting a strong impression. Human nguage has such definite statements of self. Like they are constantly reinforcing their own identities. I find it appealing.
-
Pausing, they seem a little taken aback, We agree that the line should not be crossed. The subject of consent with regards to links has a long and contentious history, for all Corda.
My headache is getting a little worse. I feel warm, almost feverish. What do you intend to do now?
FC is analyzing your history and society, I will provide assistance where necessary. Furthermore I intend to spend time determining how compatible life on earth is with ourselves. Corda, and our successors, Flora, treasure the link we can create. It is our comfort in the eternal void of existence.
Feeling a little lightheaded, I pick up the cup and drain the gss. Wayward waits, patiently considering something. Flora… like your commander, Metasequoia. What are Flora? I grab the pitcher and start to pour myself another gss of water. My head is throbbing. Wait, first… can you feel this?
I can tell that you are not feeling well… I'm looking at potential solutions right now. You should be fine to take that medicine, though.
A thankfully quick answer to my follow up question. I put the pitcher back down and start to reach for the painkillers I keep on the kitchen counter.
I feel some symptoms of rejection on my end as well, it may be a bit while one gets proper instruction from FC. We should be able to formute an appropriate treatment for these symptoms.
I pour myself a couple pills from the bottle and knock 'em back with some water
As for your earlier question, Flora are artificial members of our species. That may be a stretch to state, but we do share most genetic traits. Humans might say Flora are more like supercomputers, but they are much better, than a mere computational device. We grew them from ourselves. They are intelligences that we spent time, effort, and considerable resources developing over the st 1100 years. They’ve been completely in charge of their own designs for around seven hundred. They help direct core parts of our society, and have pyed a major role for as long as nine hundred.
I think about the 11th century for a few moments. While humanity was experiencing the Ismic golden age and the Song Dynasty, Corda had created higher intelligences to run their society. You’ve got a big head-start on us. That must be why you’re so much more developed for space travel than we are.
A bit of mencholy comes through with their response, Sadly it is not so simple. Even with our “head start”, we are running ahead of the few other civilizations we have made contact with. Our surveys imply that travel across the universe is not often pursued. It is uncompelling, difficult, and slow. Our fastest ship was built to come here. It is in orbit elsewhere in your system, captained by FC and hidden from Earth’s sensors. How long do you think it took us to get here, Lay?
I think about the immense distances in space. As fast as light is, it can take days or weeks to reach the edge of our sor system. I can’t imagine, hundreds of years? Given that you have a Flora with you it couldn’t be longer than they’ve been running your society.
You are correct. Our ship is a marvel that can reach effective speeds greater than fifteen thousand times the speed of light. It took us over two hundred and fifty.
They've been traveling to earth since before the American revolution. I consider the pain and difficulty involved. If they’re the most advanced space-faring society, and even finding other species takes hundreds of years, it must be a project over generations. Did you have to leave everyone, your whole society, behind? That’s longer than even the longest human lifespans.
I feel some apprehension coming from them.
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One… no, I will try something different... I hesitate from this question. The obedient, ‘wayward unit’ part of me is ready to offer the information. It waits for confirmation. Lay unwittingly implied something I had already done long before my journey to Earth.
While I will likely return to my home world, it will be a long, long time from now. Even then, I had already stopped interacting with our society on my own. When they found out about my experiments on myself… I was stopped, evaluated, and pced under supervision. They put me in a rehabilitation program immediately. Unsupervised and unassisted self-modification is a taboo, and is seen as self harm.
The others… I had avoided them in the most distant pce I could reach. When they discovered what I was doing, they didn't want to see me in pain. I was withering from my own emotional distress, and their sincerity was difficult to accept when I had long decided that they had failed me...
FC sent me clearance guidelines earlier, before Lay awoke. It has inspired a strange mix of both amusement and confusion in me. She gets as much clearance as I do. I can tell her anything I want to share.
Considering the miracles of Corda medicine… I have to give us some credit where it is due.
-
Wayward’s reply comes a pause ter, with some intensity now. Corda have been functionally immortal for more than a millennium.
The shift in tone starts to knock a bit of the sleep out of me. Our medical technology is borderline miraculous at this point. I was already 200 years old by the time we departed.
Wayward is older than the human invention of the steam engine. You're pretty old.
I am retively young compared to most natural Corda. You see, we've controlled our popution quite a bit since we stopped dying of most natural causes. You're practically an infant, comparatively.
Okay, that's a reaction. They're not all business... they've switched to personal pronouns, too, Well, how old is Joiner? I can’t imagine you'd have a commander that’s-
Younger than me? That doesn’t really apply to Flora. Joiner isn’t particurly young, though, at 100 years before our departure. Perhaps you don’t understand how different a Flora can be from a natural Corda. Let me see if I can give a brief impression.
An impression? I get a strange feeling, like I’m remembering something that isn’t from myself. Wayward strains a little against our link and emutes a different one.
I can sort of tell that the senses involved have been reduced a bit, downsized for the capacity of the link. Still, it’s like looking into a mind that is simply… rger than my own, in many ways. The regur link with Wayward is more like how I’d imagine another human would think, if a bit different fundamentally. Slightly more complicated from what I believe are some modifications to their senses. If their impression of Joiner is accurate, though, it’s like being connected with a hundred of the same person. Maybe even multiple hundreds. Most of them are concentrating on other things, but one or two interact and communicate, or even pay particur care to you.
It's kind of daunting, even from an impression, I see. Even if Joiner isn’t as experienced as you, they are simply operating on a different scale, you could say?
No, that's literally correct. I can tell they’re considering the appropriate terminology to help me understand. Your nguage is a little rudimentary in this sense, but Joiner is a brain. A rge brain.
They give me a sense of scale through the link- about the size of a small SUV.
They're a giant brain in a jar... Wait, does Joiner control your ship?
Yes… perhaps you may get a chance to board and interface with them directly, sometime. I am to offer you a reted opportunity, in fact.
I know what they're talking about. This offer- I'm not sure exactly how much of the thought is from Wayward, but I had somewhat reasoned out their long term pn. You want me to be your human liaison.
Yes, FC and I both agree that having humans work with us on our mission is necessary. I stumbled into interacting with you, so we've made contact and offered expnations.
Feeling a little delirious, I pour myself more water into the bottle I keep around, What would you want me to do? I start to top off the pitcher.
Well, first, we would love for you to consult on our investigation of earth. Help our mission to understand your society. Apart from that… I'd like some assistance in my own investigation.
The link, right? You want to use me as a test subject. Putting the pitcher back in the refrigerator, I start to move towards my room. I think I need some real sleep in my own bed.
That's… not the term I would pick. I would like your cooperation in testing the link. I am interested in how we can- Lay don't y on top of me.
I had just sat down. Realizing my own intent to y back I feel a bit embarrassed, even warmer through the fever. Sorry, I feel pretty sick…
Yes, it seems the rejection is getting worse fast. I think we'll have to terminate the link for a while.
Jolted, I sit up a bit, are you sure? We haven't finished…
No. You should rest. You might get much more sick very quickly. I have to remove interface tendrils, too, and it will likely leave you unconscious again.
Wait. First... I consider for a moment. What else am I even doing with my time? With my life? I already feel like I'm at a dead end.
Why not- I pn to accept the offer. We'll have to go over the exact details, but, I brace myself a bit, feeling nauseous.
Their genuine concern comes along with an anticipation. I can tell they're pleased by my assent, That is good. We shall have to commune on it more. Why don't you lie face down and try to hold still. This will be very disorienting.
I carefully shift myself into the bed, putting my face on the pillow. I trust them and try to keep calm. I can't imagine this will be much better than connecting initially was.
I feel their tendrils slowly pull, throughout my neck, to the base of my skull, to my frontal lobe, just behind my forehead. It almost itches, a slow shift through my whole upper nervous system. Some relief comes as the pressure in my head reduces. Then, the feeling of loss is there. Like a limb- an extension of myself - that's just gone.
I start to feel delirious, inhaling sharply. The rest of the tendrils pull increasingly fast until they're out of me. With the st of them out, my consciousness fades again.
