Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (171/?)

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Thacea

“I don’t know how much of this is true.” Emma began with a frustrated huff. “I don’t even know if any of this was even real. It could’ve just been a complete fabrication, my higher functions’ vain and vapid attempts at interpreting the random strings of nonsensical electrical discharges from my brain ure. That’s what the evidence would lead me to believe, that’s what was most logically happening, if we were to shear this whole thing using Occam’s razor.” 

My eyes narrowed at that latter allusion, a fact that Emma noticed but something that I managed to discern on my own through context clues and the occasional leap of logic.

With a wordless nod from my end, she continued.

“It started, ironically, like a lot of pre-seizure auras do — with a sense of creeping dread.” Emma sighed out. “But then… the chimes returned. This… this one vital detail is what’s keeping the start of this theory together, Thacea. Because if you recall—”

“You’ve reported these chimes before, a sort of… prelude to your exposure to taint.” I reasoned before my eyes widened once more with a looming realization. “The ‘alarm’ your people spoke of during this communique. Could it be—”

“The same thing, yeah.” Emma nodded vehemently. “That’s… that’s what I assumed too, but I couldn’t interrupt to ask. There was just so much going on that I completely disregarded it and—” She stopped herself, took a breath, then steadied herself once again. “There is… a non-zero chance that they experienced what I did. Though I can’t say for certain if everyone was affected. But… that’s neither here nor there. I’m not here to speculate on things on Earth’s end. I just… I just needed to make mention of the chimes.”

“As you should.” I acknowledged. “The patterns at play are… difficult to ignore, making your case all the more compelling.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Thacea.” Emma spoke with a renewed vigor; a much needed reprieve for what was to come next. “Anyways, yeah, I heard the chimes, then… nothing. Silence, and not the sort of silence you’d experience in one of those anechoic chambers either. It was… more like a lack of the sense of hearing altogether. The same applied to sight, smell, touch, proprioception, everything. It was like I was floating in space, or one of those sensory deprivation tanks, but taken to its logical extreme.”

I felt, for a brief moment, the spell of Emma’s lackadaisical remarks taking hold of my faculties once more.

Sensory deprivation tanks…

There was… an unfathomable — and frankly distressing — amount to address in that one simple aside alone.

And yet, this wouldn’t be the fullest extent of these Allusionary Shadows, as I’d elected to refer. Or more poetically, the Shadows Left in Emma’s Wake. 

“If I were to take a page out of the worst of the corpo handbooks, I’d even liken it to one of those—”

…

A series of unintelligible sounds — words, clearly — escaped from Emma’s mouth. 

It was brief, barely noticeable to most, but it was present.

And the lack of an immediate High Nexian analogue, especially when given Emma’s own explanations as to how her translator worked, imparted on me a modicum of concern.

“—complete brain removal for the purposes of mindscape transfer experiments, but specifically one of those where the brain’s taken out without connecting it to any dedicated or even artificial sensory prostheses. So the mind within is just left… hanging there, without stimuli, not even fake signals.”

I stared blankly into Emma’s visor. My thoughts, my mind, running through the dark ramifications of this… frankly barbaric practice.

It became very much clear why a direct translation wasn’t possible.

Because the topic at hand — this brief aside into what was supposed to be a simple allegory — was as remarkable as it was disturbing in its twisted depths; a dark foray into the absolute limits of unrestrained creativity rivalled only by the forbidden arts.

“Er, just to be clear, these sorts of things are relegated to the history books—”

“I know, Emma. You’ve mentioned this… ‘corpo age’ before.” I acknowledged.

“Yeah, I guess I have. Though we’ll have to actually dive deep into it some other time. Er, suffice it to say, I believe what I experienced, at least at first, felt like I was reduced to a floating consciousness, disconnected from everything. My mind was panicking, of course… or at least one part of my mind was.” Emma paused, poising herself for another development. “Because while I was stuck in that weird headspace, there happened to be this other side of me, one that seemed hellbent on keeping me calm, and whose attempts succeeded for a distressingly large part of that whole episode. It was weird, like two diametrically opposed mentalities operating on entirely different tunes that just couldn’t be reconciled. But after a while, after literally stewing in my own thoughts, the world started to suddenly come into focus. It’s difficult to describe but it sorta felt like everything just started… coming into frame, all at once, with faint and starry ‘skies’ above me, a horizon in the distance, and weirdest of all — a reflective surface beneath me. Sort of like a pool but not. Since my footsteps didn’t really make waves in it or anything.”

I listened intently, Emma’s accounts resonating with a wisp of a memory that I scarcely interacted with, one that I hardly had a reason to remember.

“I don’t know why but I think I was weirdly enamored by my reflection. Now, I know I’m definitely good-looking—” Emma paused, once again interjecting that absurdist Earthrealm humor into the fray with a faux flex of both arms. “—but I’m nowhere near narcissistic enough to be that enamored by my looks.” She chuckled fitfully, clearing her throat before continuing. “Things really escalated from here on out. Thalmin’s voice somehow broke through the overwhelming nothingness, snapping me out of my weird… fugue, and bringing my rational mind back front and center. From there, I ran. With no real sense of direction, and no visual markers, I just… booked it. I didn’t know for how long or how far, but the only change I noticed was my reflection.”

I leaned in closer, Emma taking a moment to catch her breath.

“Because as I ran, I noticed the reflection suddenly refusing to follow. It was dragged along alright, but it didn’t match my motions. You’d think this was the weirdest part of this whole, but no.” Emma mirrored my motions, leaning in closer to bridge the gap. “It broke through the reflective surface, the water, and it grabbed my ankle.”

A deep sense of unease manifested across my features as I held my breath for what was inevitably to come.

“But that was it. That… was all it did. I looked down and it just stared at me blankly, with eyes that had turned completely pitch black. It let go eventually but not after I felt this weird sense of… serenity taking over. And after a while… a long, long while of staring down to watch this doppleganger, it decided to point at the skies above, tapping the now-hardened reflective surface incessantly.”

“And what did you see?” I urged.

“Color. An explosion of color as far as the eye could see. I saw nebulae, plumes of interstellar gas and the twinkle of a trillion stars held within. But in the midst of it all, contrasting starkly with the brilliance of the birth of a universe, was a lingering splotch of dark. If… if I recall correctly, the doppleganger tapped harder at that point… and that’s about it. The next thing I know, I’m waking up to a very concerned Thalmin and a very confusing medical report. I wrote everything I could about the whole event down but… I really, really wish I had a camera with me. I could’ve taken a snapshot of the stars and had it cross-referenced with known stellar charts and—” 

“Emma.” I interjected reflexively without a moment’s hesitation. “Have you checked your ankle?” 

The human stopped. 

Her entire form suddenly lost all of the enthusiasm present just a second ago, arms hanging limp and posture stiffening to a board-like rigidity.

“W-what do you mean, Thacea?” She responded plainly. All of the grand sweeping monologues, all of the vivid and detailed accounts, all of it reduced to this mortified soldier who understood well what I was suggesting.

“Have you or have you not checked for any marks where the entity touched you?”

“I wasn’t—” Emma responded before clearing her throat. “No.” She corrected darkly before immediately getting up from the armchair. 

Not a word was exchanged following this, not even an attempt to defuse the situation with that absurdist humor of hers.

Instead, a knowing dread settled on the both of us, one that followed Emma with every rushed step of the way towards the tent.

I watched in silence at the routine that bordered on ritual, each second dragging on for what felt like hours as the droning and whining of the manaless enclosure felt as if it was taking disproportionately longer than it should.

Finally, it stopped.

At which point, I knew she was properly inside.

A part of me wished that the tent’s fabric wasn’t so opaque.

A part of me wanted to see inside.

I needed to see if she’d been marked.

…

I took a deep breath, taking careful, measured steps towards the demarcated perimeter of her domain.

“Emma?” I questioned impatiently. “Are you okay? Do you see any—”

“Gi— GLEGH… J-ju—”

THWUMP!

“Emma?! What happened?! Are you hurt?!!!” I urged, moving closer out of concern… only to realize the leypull of the situation.

I couldn’t help even if I wanted to.

The weight of my earlier warnings, my pointed pleas to this very eventuality, abruptly reared its unwanted head with the malevolent irony of an oracle scorned.

I stood there now in silence.

A thousand considerations, and ten thousand more plans came and went, all reaching the same disquieting conclusion.

Anything I did, any attempt at aid, was fruitless.

All I could do now was wait, hoping for a response and praying the vibrations within were an indicator as to—

“I fell out.” Came Emma’s exhausted answer, causing the mild panic welling within me to momentarily cease.

“You what?” I replied reflexively, that abruptness in delivery and the extemporaneous tone of Emma’s words… clashing with the reality I’d scarcely just assembled.

“You should be more careful, Emma.” I retorted sternly and bluntly, partially relieved but likewise unamused by her wanton disregard for all matters pertaining to caution. I sighed but moved swiftly in an effort to return to the pressing matter at hand. “Now, do you see anything on your ank—”

“H-hold on. I need to get these stupid layers off…” Emma interjected, clearly exasperated herself, as the occasional grunt, groan, and whine came through the tent’s oratoracles. “It’s… much… harder… than you… think.” She spoke between tired and ragged breaths. “A whole week… is enough to mess up your… I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s just, even with training and the armor’s automatic systems, you just… you kind of adjust to moving with something, and overcompensating for weight, volume, space and… wait there’s a term for this.”

Emma’s speech once again paused, and in a forced stutter, her translations continued as best as they could.

“Abnormal compensation of movement due to sustained changes in environmental factors. Yeah, that’s what it’s called.”

“I sympathize with your plight, Emma.” I offered softly. “However, there is no need to inspect everything, I simply wish to know if your ankle—”

“Doesn’t work that way. It’s a one-piece situation here, so just hang on, I’m kinda cramping up… just… UGH, come on… THERE!” 

I blinked.

My heart raced now as I could only imagine what was happening within, and the fated response which had the potential to redefine everything.

“Erm, Thacea?”

“Yes? What do you see?”

… 

“There’s nothing here. I’m cross-referencing last week’s medical reports and yeah, nothing. Not even a bruise or discoloration.”

A sigh of relief escaped my beak, but before I could manage out any reassuring words, Emma was quick to follow up on her own response.

“What… what was I supposed to see?” She questioned before suddenly following it up with what I could charitably describe as a flurry of eccentric postulations. “Wait, wait a minute. There’s a mark here… but it’s a birthmark, d-does… does that count? Does that mean I was always marked for this? Is this some weird timey-wimey rewriting destiny thing? Did it go back in time to somehow mark me from birth so that I’ve always had this and am only now realizing what it is? Is this some kind of chosen one thing? Is that what all of this is?”

“No, Emma.” I responded with a sobering stoicism aimed to defuse Emma’s overactive imagination. “That’s not how any of this works.” I reasserted. “What you were supposed to see— Correction. What I had feared you would see, was the mark of the Veil Wing. I admit, it was a rather presumptuous notion. But your story — your recollection — it brought about memories of childhood tales which should have remained as such. I had correlated, naively so, that your experiences were analogous to some of our inexplicable encounters with…” I paused, struggling, trying to find the words in High Nexian. “… a subconscious of sorts.” 

“I don’t think I’m following, Thacea.” 

“Allow me to rephrase this.” I took a deep breath. “Your story, more specifically your encounters with this calmer, seemingly bizarre alternate self, is one that is well known to us avinor. Your inability to reconcile with the discrepancy between you and your other, the inability of this other to truly grasp, grapple, and communicate in any meaningful way, and its constant attempts to keep you calm — all of it is reminiscent of our stories of the Shadow Soul. A a being that exists in dormancy, lying in wait, manifesting only during sleep for some and flight for others. It… was academically disproven in the eyes of the Nexus, but in old Aetheron culture, we believed this to be a shadow of our identity, one that emerges in our place during our sleep and long flights.”

“Wait.” Emma spoke up abruptly. “Are you saying that avinor don’t enter a full on mode of sleep like elves and lupinors do, for instance? Like you’re sort of asleep, but kind of awake at the same time? One eye open, one eye closed sorta deal? The lights are on but nobody’s home? I hope I’m making sense here… heh…”

My eyes narrowed at Emma’s counter question, my mind racing with its implications.

How did she…

“Yes.” I acknowledged, deciding to acknowledge the present, first and foremost. “There are particular variations depending on the particular race of avinor, but all share in this experience in one way or another.” 

Not a single word left my beak following my response as a dawning, almost creeping realization suddenly came upon me.

There were no other races that shared this unique… propensity for consciousness and awareness. And for Emma to have immediately leaped at that prospect, without giving it a moment’s hesitation… was it possible, could it even be feasible that she could be another form of avi—

“Then yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Unihemispheric slow wave sleep, that’s what our scientists call it at least.”

Perhaps it was my turn to carry the baton of Emma’s eccentric postulations.

Alas, before I could dwell on the possibilities, it was Emma herself who dragged me back to the pertinent topic at hand.

“So… what I’m understanding here is this: you’ve sort of personified the weird ‘consciousness’ that ‘takes over’ during your half-awake state right?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”  I acknowledged. “Those who still cling onto the old faiths believe that this other exists as a shadow to our identity. Though their awareness, their ‘personhood’ so to speak, was highly debated amidst many avinor theological circles. When they still existed, that is.” I steadied myself, returning to the role I was meant to play. “Your encounter with this other, your Shadow Soul, reminded me of such. However, what was truly remarkable, and worrying, was the fact it managed to interact with you. Everything up to that point had been… familiar. The reflections, the calm, and even the tantrums it displayed. But when it breached that barrier, reaching for you, that’s when matters escalated from a rare but benign interaction, to an incident of fate-defining concern. Because in that moment, as your Shadow’s eyes filled with darkness, there was a chance — however small — that something else had taken control of it. Another entity, another being, with a desire to communicate… though to what ends, depends entirely on what old faith you worship. To some, it could be a blessing, a communion with the gods. To others, it is an attempt to brand you as a slave to the whims of spiteful gods.”

“The mark of the Veil Wing or whatever, right?” Emma questioned.

“Yes. Though there are other marks too.” I acknowledged. “Because to most of the old faiths, the truth lies somewhere in between. As these spirits and deities wish to merely… point you towards a path they deem to be best.”

“Best for whom, though?”

“That’s the most frustrating aspect about it, Emma.” I acknowledged. “It’s never specified. Sometimes it’s what’s best for the gods themselves, sometimes it’s for the good of the world, in others it’s what’s best for you personally. Regardless, the result is the same… a brand, mark, tattoo, or some sort of lingering reminder of their touch.”

Emma paused for a moment, resigning herself to a long and drawn-out sigh of frustration.

“I don’t imagine there’s anything on chimes preceding the arrival of any of these gods, is there?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“Right…” She breathed a deep breath before chuckling darkly. “Okay, well, at least the good news is that I’m not branded or marked or anything. That tracks with the inability for taint to physically affect me. But I still can’t consign myself to ignoring the whole dream sequence. There has to be something to it, right?”