12 Miles Below

Book 6. Chapter 43: Wrong address

Drakonis got to work setting the camp up. Which wasn’t a huge amount of work, since we’d arrived with practically nothing on our backs. What camp ended up being was some firewood stacked up just outside the tunnel entrance, along with some hunted meat, fish and edible leaves along with refilled water flasks.

After which he sat down and disassembled his rifle and pistol, cleaning up the interior and verifying everything was in good shape.

Meanwhile, I was doing the heavy lifting inside the mite terminal. But from his point of view, I was just sitting down and sleeping by said terminal.

The terminal itself didn’t have any actual damage within the server, just the outside had been sliced by Murdershrimp. But the step into this terminal was… off putting. I remember the last time I’d walked into a mite terminal and seen what the inside looked like.

The digital sea was far above me in this terminal, past a ceiling of windowed glass. The ground under my feet moved like a slow steady wave. Stairs sprouted from the ground at all kinds of angles, some leading to airlocks that hovered in midair without any visible support or anything behind them.

Gears were everywhere. And for every possible reason. All moving around. Even the ground seemed to occasionally break away into slowly spinning gears. I think some of the stairs were made of gears too. Each time a rotation finally clicked, they’d all turn and move in different directions. And every few rotations, some of the airlock doors leading to nowhere would light up green and open up, revealing some other part of the server on the other side of the doorway, even though there shouldn’t be anything on the other side.

The machine archive I’ve visited with Father had been filled with sediment and a complete lack of motion from the actual archive itself. Only the ecosphere and defense programs around it were in motion. Here, the entire architecture was alive and moving, and everything living inside here seemed more like a guest.

“Three gods in an airspeeder…” I muttered looking at the absolute mayhem around me. And this was just a passing station. I wasn’t looking to stay inside the mite terminal, I needed to get out into the open digital sea, and from there find a way to contact Wrath.

Fortunately, gravity seemed more a suggestion, so a quick push off my feet and I was floating through the chaos around me. There was still a pull backwards to the moving ground, but enough gears and staircases let me leap from spot to spot, making my way up.

Programs fluttered in swarms, passing over me without issue, darting from gear to gear. Much smaller than I was, and clearly not interested in anything to do with me. Instead, I saw them cover an entire staircase, and start eating packets of data around it, multiplying.

I got a closer look without aiming for it. One bound to a floating stairwell, and halfway through two swarms had also picked it as their destination. Boot hit first, scattering the tiny programs away from me. Had to move fast before they broke my jump off point.

They didn’t attack me at least, scuttling away as I scaled the stairs up and looked for the next target to leap to. And then the swarm leaped off and flew to the next stairwell, leaving mine spotless.

I thought they were eating the entire gear itself, but I realized it was the sediment they’d eaten. The same dust like decay that had slowly buried the machine archive. These little programs were consuming it, keeping the gears and everything tidy. Almost like shrimp within a hydroponic system. Once they’d gotten their fill, they’d all leap off and fly off to another section, repeating the process again and again, filling the air with these small spheres of buzzing swarms while the entire server here kept moving incrementally to the rhythm of a clock.

They weren’t alone. Larger programs that looked more like a giant jaw attached to an eel like body would float through, unmoving until one small swarm of packet programs got within biting range. The larger program would instantly come back to life, eight wings appearing from the sides and then give one massive flap that would propel a disjointed jaw right through the entire swarm.

I saw it happen under me as I floated to the next section. A moment after eating its prey, it turned on its side, eyes opening up all across the body as I felt it probe my being.

“Uh, hi.” I sent back.

It didn’t understand. The program was too simple I think. But it did turn away from me and start moving to the walls, where I saw it bite down on a vine-like structure and stay frozen there, doing something.

And then one of those predator programs tried to take a bite out of me.

I didn’t even notice once it had floated over behind me, mouth opening up slowly. Up until I turned to spot it, and it lunged right for my face.

My eyes flew open up wide, back in reality. Drakonis was further ahead, already cooking up meat. He turned his gaze over, “Winterscar? Your heart spiked up on the biometrics. Did something happen?”

Yeah, I got eaten by some giant program and probably digested in under a second.

“Just some troubleshooting required. Ran into the local system defenses. Or something like it.” I said instead, and dove in for round two.

Unlike the prior mite terminal I’d been in where it had been mostly empty, this terminal seemed infested with a ton of outside programs. And the apex predator was capable of chomping into my digital avatar and destroying it.

At the bottom of the terminal again, on the slowly moving ground, I stared up at my ultimate target. And the threats between me and the outside sea.

It was a decohesion attack. The moment I was swallowed by the program’s stomach, spears of randomized data struck into me from all sides. Highly effective at ruining my focus, filling my head with a scrap ton of numbers and random images. Like sharp teeth ripping my avatar apart.

Caught me by surprise, but didn’t seem difficult to counter. The programs weren’t smart, at the tip of those spears was a target address while the rest was raw data. I could manipulate the tip without even looking at the rest of the attack, making it harmless. That’s what I settled on starting with.

I spun my willpower around myself like a blanket. A simple program that would automatically redirect the memory address of the spike back to where they came from. If the predator programs were smart, they’d modify their attack just slightly and my defense would be nullified.

But I had a feeling they wouldn’t adapt this fast.

“All right, round two.” I muttered, tapping off the floor and floating upwards with controlled focus at the first floating gear-turning stairwell. A few more jumps and I was back into the upper layers of the terminal.

It didn’t take long for one of those larger programs to start floating closer and closer to me on one jump.

No point in letting them attack first. I drew my occult knife, turned it on, and flung it right at the giant program. It struck home, cutting into the soft flesh, sinking through past the spine and out the other way. Incredibly effective. More so than it would have been in real life.

The program floundered, then froze and slowly began to sink downwards. The knife reappeared in my hands. Turns out this might be easier than I thought, the earlier prep wasn’t needed.

That’s when I got eaten again by another that had snuck up behind, mouth open wide. I’d gotten used to having the occult sight giving me a full view all around, including my blind spots. Out here, it wasn’t the same. The rules seemed more fluid, more loosely interpreted.

The world went dark as the jaws closed around me, swallowing me whole. Spears of decohesion lanced out, hit my pre-programmed defense and all reflected backwards, spearing the program from the inside out. I could feel its simple software burn past whatever limits it had, dissolving into unorganized data, new sediment that began to float down, eaten up by passing swarms.

The terminal wasn’t too deep in the end. It only took a minute of dedicated jumping to slowly make my way up. But the further near the surface I went, the more dense the predators became.

Fortunately I was functionally invulnerable to them now, so they didn’t stop me. I hit a final platform, grabbed the edge and lifted myself up on it, now looking out the roof window into the digital sea ahead.

There was no door, nor any way to open up the window, so my knife came out again and I sliced a nice rectangle. A single push and the glass piece floated out of the way, instantly caught by a current and slowly dragged away.

I climbed out onto the seabed of the digital ocean, seeing sand and sediment in all directions. It was like I’d crawled out of a colony bunker half buried in snow. Except unlike the surface, here the ‘sky’ was filled with life. Thousands of programs streamed through on invisible currents, forking out into branches, twisting around before flowing further off into the horizon.

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Taking a few proud steps out into the digital sea alone, I looked up at the new chaos out there.

“... now what?”

Turns out trying to make sense of where I was ended up futile.

If I got lost, I could just sever my connection, returning my soul back. All this was just an extension of myself from the terminal’s internal power after all.

Problem was that jumping up and getting randomly swept elsewhere seemed like a dumb way to find anything. I might discover some adjacent terminals or points of interest, but no possible way to connect with Wrath.

I didn’t even know where to start.

I’d been seated down for the past ten minutes now, right next to the cut opening into the mite terminal, watching the above currents shift and sway, trying to think of how I’d send any kind of message out there.

Contacting Abraxas seemed like the easy way, but I’d need to be found by him instead of the other way around. And in order to get to Wrath, I had to know where she was.

If I sent some mass ping out there, who knows what kind of attention I’d draw to myself? Or how far those pings could go.

A light snowfall of data was settling down on the dunes under me, becoming sediment. Picking it up in my hands, I could see and feel even smaller programs within, organizing and consuming the free space. Most of these programs weren’t intelligent, like the predators floating inside the terminal. But there was a kind of ecosystem here, and it had adapted to the environment. Wrath had told me that the vast majority of the machines don’t serve Relinquished. It’s just a giant map of contested territory out there, and Relinquished was a smaller player in the grand scheme.

I hadn’t considered that too deeply, but what it implied was that some programs out there were smart enough to think and organize.

Maybe I could ask a local.

I sent a small ping, keeping the area localized. A quick message asking for help. I could see the message being sent out, multiplying until it hit the currents, where it was swept up.

Nothing returned.

I tried again a few times, changing up the message, and watching what kind of attention it got. I thought I was wasting time and was about to quit when I got a return ping.

The message was simple and came as text: Please enter your ten digit N-soft account number in order to verify your I.D.

“Verify my what now?” I sent back.

I.D. verification required for customer support. It answered, the ping remaining simple text data.

Then a shadow overtook the world around me. I looked up, and saw an outright leviathan emerge from the current above, slowly floating past the path. Other programs raced out of its way, as the massive thing began to descend.

“Oh. Scrapshit.” I hissed under my breath. Maybe I should have put more thought into all this.

It looked like a moving fortress of scrap, like a few hundred metal triangles all welded together. Sediment filled the small cracks around the shell, while other programs seemed to hover over it, following its movements. There were other things crawling over its back, either cleaning off some of the sediment or acting more like hitchhikers. All kinds of colors and shapes too.

The massive thing landed on the seabed, seven long feet extending out to support its weight, each ending in a very thick spike. Some kind of bright red coral grew over sections, making the final shape look like a walking tree.

It took a step forward - towards me. And then another, each step bringing a small pillar of sediment to flow up, disturbed.

I brought out my longsword, keeping it close by. I could fight pretty well, but this seemed like a bad idea.

It took more steps, then came to a stop, towering right above me.

From inside the walls of the fortress, a wall seemed to break loose and fall downwards, revealing one massive eye at the centerpoint. And of course, there’s only one thing it was looking at.

I.D. verification required for customer support. The text message ping came again, and I could see it had come from the giant in front of me. But a moment later, vibrating through the digital water around me, I heard it speak.

A gravel and timber to it that made me feel like my bones were rattling.

“I am curious.” It said.

I could see one of the programs floating around the giant shell zip through the cracks and chomp down on something that was striped pink and red, scurrying away, before being caught and yanked out of safety. A few other programs tried to get to the victim, but the original program had already taken two bites and finished it with a third.

The giant seemed completely oblivious to it, the one eye looking right down at me.

“...Curious about me?” I had to crane my neck to meet its gaze, feeling very much like a grasshopper trying to talk with an airspeeder. And given how armored it looked, that really wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Yes.” It answered. “Your request was accepted and processed by a smaller section within myself. A section I hadn’t known existed. I am curious about myself. What are you?”

“Uh, human.” I said, feeling a bit lost. How do you explain the concept of humanity to a giant, sentient data structure?

A few of those smaller hitchhiker programs started to swim down, flowing past the legs down to the stable floor, as if taking the chance that things were still to explore around.

“I do not know human.” The words rumbled through the water, more vibration than sound. It was all data in the end, but I could feel my mind interpret it. The programs reacted to that in fear, bolting back up to the top of the shell where they flowed with their peers again.

On my end, I spread my hands out a bit, trying to look a little less hostile even with the longsword still drawn. “I’m just lost, and asking for directions, really.”

The eye narrowed slightly, as if trying to parse my words. “I have never heard of human. Nor of the region. I cannot help you find human without coordinates.”

I realized it was using that word as if it were a place. “No, no, no human’s not a place. I’m a human being. From the outside world.”

“I have not heard of this region either.” It answered. “Are you from the other side of the mite wall? More curious. Such programs are never as cognizant as you seem to be. They cannot talk. They do not use bytes nor bits. They do not survive long beyond their home ecosystem. They suffocate from lack of resources. The sea is incompatible with their systems.”

I shook my head. “I know about the mites, but I’m from the world outside the digital sea.”

“There is nothing beyond the digital sea.” The statement was absolute, brooking no argument. It didn’t believe me in the slightest.

“Well, there is. But that’s besides the point. I’m looking for directions on how to navigate in this world right now. Can you help?” I tried to steer the conversation back on track. No point in arguing worldview when I couldn’t even start to explain humans anyhow.

The eye blinked slowly. “Yes. Send this I.D. verification, so that I might see what the core of my being does next. I will help after.”

That sounds suspicious. Do programs lie? Can they lie? “What would I.D. verification even be? Just a random set of numbers? And why do you want it?”

“I do not know.” The leviathan's voice was tinged with something almost like fascination. “It is a response from a subroutine within myself. It is requesting data from you. I do not know what will happen next.”

Wait, what? “If it’s a part of you, shouldn’t you know more about it?”

“It has never been active before. It is sealed behind stronger walls and fortifications deep inside my core.” The eye seemed to glaze over a bit, as if in deep thought. “I recognize my signature and handiwork. Or a version of myself before I grew and became more. I cannot see past this inside wall. I dare not peel away the layers. If it was so well defended by my past hands, it must be important to my function.”

“All right, if I send an I.D. verification, can you help me send a message to a Feather?”

“A Feather of Relinquished?” It asked. “I do not have access to the servers Relinquished uses. I cannot find a Feather in specific. Sending a request would invite self-destruction. I am not stupid.”

“... any other way you know of communicating with machines under Relinquished?”

“Capture a reconnaissance program.” It said. “There are many, they provide Relinquished with reports of the digital sea. Her eye and ears.”

I had mixed feelings about putting myself on the map like that, especially to something that might be the literal eyes and ears of Relinquished. On the other hand, Wrath had already designated me as her target along with a plan. Relinquished wouldn’t want me dead just yet, not until she’s entertained.

I drummed my finger against the hilt of my sword, weighing my options. It was a risk, but what choice did I have? I nodded slowly. “Can you help me grab one?”

The giant rumbled. “You ask much, little program. And you meddle with a region that is dangerous to everything. Relinquished guards her territory with great care.”

“Okay that’s fair, you don’t want to get mixed up with Relinquished.” I gave a wave and a shrug, giving up on that idea. There’s always a plan B. “Can you tell me how to grab one of these reconnaissance programs instead then? And I can do the work myself once you’re long gone and away from danger.”

The eye seemed to peer deeper at me, and I could feel a scanning ping. It was searching for something within me, but clearly didn’t find anything amiss.

“I accept.” It said. The words were heavy with finality, like a lord’s decision coming down.

Then it waited. Guess I had to go first.

The original text message was pretty simple. It asked for a ten digit N-soft account number. It said it needed one from me specifically, but it never said it had to be a working account or not.

I sent a data package back with the same format. Ten randomized numbers, and I slipped in a seven in there simply because I liked that number the best.

Thank you, one moment please while we access your account history. The message returned nearly instantly. The giant seemed to react to that, its eye turning upwards to the digital sea. “It has sent a request to a specific address. More curious.”

“Any answer back?”

The giant was silent for a moment, as if listening to something only it could hear. “No. The address point does not exist to my knowledge.”

A moment later, another text message arrived. Servers are currently over capacity, we cannot confirm your N-soft account at this time. Please reattempt at a later date. N-Soft thanks you for your patience.

“You have any idea what that means?” I asked the giant.

The eye narrowed, the plates around it shifting and rearranging like a puzzled frown.

“No. I will study the message and attempt to understand it more.” Massive legs took a few steps, making the entire thing turn slowly around, the center eye looking far off into the sea. “I will seek out the address end point, to see what has become of that region. Perhaps I will find more answers there.”

“All right, anything else you need from me?”

“No. I will connect with you again. You are important. I do not know how. I will find out, and reconnect once I do.” The giant’s eye turned to the cut glass section of the mite terminal, the entire structure buried under the sediment with only the roof visible.

“You come from the mite region?” It asked.

“I do… technically.” I said, following its gaze to the half-buried structure. It was chaos down there, but a sort of contained chaos.

“Stay near it.” The voice was firm, outright demanding. “Larger programs cannot follow you inside, it will not support their weight. You will be safe here.”

“Okay, good advice.” I filed that info out, the terminal insides were like a colony bunker, and I could hide from bigger things inside. Good to know. “I’ll try to follow it. Now, can you tell me how to grab one of those reconnaissance programs from Relinquished?”

I could tell the giant was hesitant about that. Real hesitant.

But it fessed up. A deal’s a deal. Now all that's left is to go get me some 'hired' help.

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