Unlikely.
The building has been moved several times to protect the Nadralix
It's ruled by a young, relatively inexperienced Empress named Challadien III. The kingdom is known for its rolling fields of wheat, beans, and corn.
"Is everyone going to look directly at the dangerous object?" Panamax is frowning. Even if you can only hear his voice, he is frowning. "I can't carry everyone to safety at once."
"Maybe it tells you something worth knowing... you know, in exchange for a little bit of a hangover." Ceri says, rubbing at her temple.
Tavene holds steady against the desire to look at the thing. She's, in fact, doing an amazing job looking directly opposite of the dangerous thing.
"Aren't you letting a dangerous object feed on you?" Jarris asks with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
I have been here...
A pause, and then it gives you a series of pictures, of an unchanging interior of a building, of the same pathway through tubes over and over again.
I have been here less time than the Nadralix
But I was the second acquistion
When Panamax asks if the creature can ask its own questions, he gets a sense of someone being offered a buffet.
Do the others of your Age taste as good as you
What does your star smell of
How can you stand the cold-without-stars
He looks up, turning the piece of paper over in his hand. Everyone who cares to look will see it's blank. "Huh. So if the cube is the Nadralix, are we in the City of Shadows now?"
"I don't think so." Nalo's voice is decidedly rougher than it's normal light alto. "We are probably in the pyramid that floated above the City of Shadows once upon a whenever." She tilts her head to one side, then winces in pain at the movement, "I think it disappeared before the city was abandoned."
A few seconds go by, she screws her eyes shut and presses her hands to her temples.
Another few seconds pass and she looks at her feet, the curiosity having been replaced by something else entirely. "Sooo yeah, about that teleportation!" She goes for cheerful again and makes it halfway.
"Did you get to the nothingness after the mind shearing pain?" Nalo asks with a sympathetic smile.
"Anyway, the teleportation pad. Everyone who is going to travel needs to be on the pad," her face says, 'as expected'. "The first person to pick a destination has priority and the device has to be guided by someone who has been at the desire designation previously."
"At least I think that is what the cube said," a wan smile, "I can probably remember as close to words as it used when it doesn't feel like my brain is producing shards of glass to cut my eyes."
She glances back at the cube out of the corner of her eye, "I have to admit, that wasn't the most important question to me," her eyes move away, and she smiles briefly at Anson, "but most of those are ones that I'd want to learn" her nose twitches, and she sneezes, "the answers more directly, not from an oracle in a fifth dimension cube."
"I didn't get a nothingness, I did get the mind shearing pain, and I didn't get an answer to my most important question." Ceri ticks the cube-bucket list on her fingers. "But I did learn something, and it sounds like you learned something valuable, too." She smiles, watching Nalo's eyes track and nose twitch.
"So, then. Is everyone game for a little bit more exploring before we depart?" She tousles her hair, smile turning lopsided as her eyes drift near the cube and immediately away again.
More hallways, more empty rooms. This section of the building seems much smaller than the one before the locked door, and your group finds just one more room of interest.
It's by far the biggest chamber you've come across yet. There are twelve inverted cones of synth that stand roughly fourteen feet high, each filled with narrow slots.
Next to each cone, an automaton arranges and rearranges square synth plates within the slots, endlessly. There are thousands, if not millions, of these plates. The twelve automatons are ungainly, multi armed things of metal and glass.
They also seem completely uninterested in any of you.
"There's something sort of..." Jarris pauses, gathering his thoughts, "sort of sad about watching machines go about a purpose like this. They were designed for it, they'll do it until they break or something sets them off their path. But they've been doing it for Ages, likely, for no reason. All alone down here." His smile is missing and he seems uncharacteristically melancholy as he watches the machines do their work.
"Didn't want to have an answer delivered via blinding migraine, eh?" Ceri asks Anson as they stand in the large, automaton filled chamber.
Anson approaches one of the automatons for a closer look.
"Didn't want to have an answer delivered via blinding migraine, eh?" Ceri asks Anson as they stand in the large, automaton filled chamber.
"I had no idea that was even an option." He shrugs. "Can't think of anything I'd ask it right now. Maybe when we come back."
She frowns a little at that. "I didn't think I had anything to ask it either. It sort of just... gave me an answer." She cracks a smile. "Presumptuous multidimensional bastard."
"Aren't you letting a dangerous object feed on you?" Jarris asks with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
Panamax raises his eyebrow right back. "That's forward," he says. "Maybe ask again tonight."
In the automaton chamber, Panamax stands back. He may indeed have learned a lesson. "It's like a dance. The Forever Dance."
If you listen closely enough...
Slot, replace, new, replace, slot
There's a cadence to it that's comforting in its repetition and consistency. You can't imagine that this was always their primary function, the arrangement of plates to no effect, but maybe it contributed to a greater process in Ages past.
You sense a dim intelligence in these machines. It's nothing like the alien intelligence of the Nadralix, but it's something more than a machine you toggle off and on.
I have never been close enough to our star to smell it.
I have not experienced this cold-without-stars. Unless you mean sleep.
Panamax thinks of sleep. Warm, dark, dry, drifting off.
Panamax gives the room a glance for anything that might serve as a portable energy being container.
Anson begins bobbing his head slightly to a beat only he can hear. "Slot, replace, new, replace, slot," he murmurs, following one of the robots around the room.
"I didn't get a nothingness, I did get the mind shearing pain, and I didn't get an answer to my most important question." Ceri ticks the cube-bucket list on her fingers. "But I did learn something, and it sounds like you learned something valuable, too." She smiles, watching Nalo's eyes track and nose twitch.
Nalo opens her mouth, pauses, closes it. Shrugs, "It confirmed that the teleportation pad worked in the way that it makes the most sense to."
"Or it told me what I already believed to be true. I think historically many oracles worked that way."
"Didn't want to have an answer delivered via blinding migraine, eh?" Ceri asks Anson as they stand in the large, automaton filled chamber."I had no idea that was even an option." He shrugs. "Can't think of anything I'd ask it right now. Maybe when we come back."
Nalo looks over at the pair, then down, her lips curving into a sad frown.
In the automaton chamber, Nalo walks around slowly moving to avoid the big automaton - looking to see if any of the synth plate or disks have markings or are an odd shape. Her hands shake occasionally.
Panamax raises his eyebrow right back. "That's forward," he says. "Maybe ask again tonight."
Jarris' eyes sparkle as he shakes his head. "How rude. I'm not an object."
Jarris' eyes sparkle as he shakes his head. "How rude. I'm not an object."
"You are not the object of my gratitude?"
Panamax shakes his head sadly, although unable to keep a corner of smile off his face.
You taste of...
Panamax gets a flash that looks a lot more like what the home world of the creature would look like than anything he recognizes of his reality. It's virtually impossible to parse.
You have been close enough to your star to smell it the creature challenges. That is what you taste like
Sunlight
At the imagery of sleeping, the creature sends a wave of fear out.
Cold without stars
For me, it's the end
More pausing.
The others did not want to talk to me
Just to use me or study me
You do, however, remember something someone said earlier about "Organizers", and these would almost certainly be what was referred to.
As you walk slowly around, you do notice a small box behind one of the automatons. It would be easy to overlook and miss, as it seems to be made of the same material as the rest of the building.
Inside is a pile of junk. But if you take a few minutes to sift through it...
Flesh-thing
"Or it told me what I already believed to be true. I think historically many oracles worked that way."
Ceri nods her head in response. "But if you had gone alone? We may not have been able to find you. Or if someone had a random place pop into their head as soon as their feet hit the glass. So, maybe it worked out better this way." She seems lost in thought for a moment. "I spent a little bit of time in Omar, down in the south of Ghan, and ran into a woman there who claimed to be an oracle. Read the lines of my palm, had me spit out tea leaves or whatever. She cold-read the hells out of me. I knew it was aneenshit, but it was still impressive in its own way."
She tilts her head. "But at least a human oracle isn't gonna give you a blinding headache. Or... what did you see, anyway? You said something about a nothingness?"
"You are not the object of my gratitude?"
"I suppose that depends on how you answer my question later tonight." He tries, and fails, to look serious.
Tavene pointedly moves away from Jarris and suddenly seems interested in an automaton.
"I didn't ask it a question."
She shrugs, putting up a hand to shield the dim light, "There was this music and I thought if I just looked" her mouth twitches, like she just tasted something strong, "a little," a pause as she swallows, "closer I'd see..."
"I don't know what I was lo.. thinking," she changes the word mid-way with aplomb, "I'd see. There is the peace of nothingness in the chaos."
Kilo watches Nalo for a few moments, "You all right?" He asks curiously and with perhaps a hint of concern. He scans the room, eyes twitch on first pass. There doesn't seem to be danger in the room, is there? He is drawn back to the focal point of the thing which perhaps should not be. Perhaps it is a test?
Kilo watches Nalo for a few moments, "You all right?" He asks curiously and with perhaps a hint of concern. He scans the room, eyes twitch on first pass. There doesn't seem to be danger in the room, is there? He is drawn back to the focal point of the thing which perhaps should not be. Perhaps it is a test?
"Will be."
"Careful to not rile up any bees again." Nalo adds with a half heated smile.
"Or if someone had a random place pop into their head as soon as their feet hit the glass."
Nalo nods in agreement, "As soon as I thought that the commands were telepathic I was worried about that."
She seems lost in thought for a moment. "I spent a little bit of time in Omar, down in the south of Ghan, and ran into a woman there who claimed to be an oracle. Read the lines of my palm, had me spit out tea leaves or whatever. She cold-read the hells out of me. I knew it was aneenshit, but it was still impressive in its own way."
She tilts her head. "But at least a human oracle isn't gonna give you a blinding headache."
"Not unless they have some magic or tech to throw at you anyways."
A pause, "The pain from the cube passed once I got to the nothingness... I'd describe what I have now as a hangover."
"Or... what did you see, anyway? You said something about a nothingness?"
Nalo blinks, bites her bottom lip, "Trying to see causes the pain, reconciling all the things that can not be." She shrugs, "I think I broke something when I pushed past, haven't felt this since the time I spent three days and nights in a five forbidden lib... book depositories trying to find out about Hakotep."
"It was the all of no nothing."
Anson starts, shocked. "Flesh-ling? No, no. Anson."
Nalo looks over from the box she found with a curious look. She puts a few bits and things into her bag then moves closer to Anson. Quietly, "Found someone?"
Nalo looks over from the box she found with a curious look. She puts a few bits and things into her bag then moves closer to Anson. Quietly, "Found someone?"
Anson gestures at the automaton he's been following around.
Anson gestures at the automaton he's been following around.
Nalo watches the automaton slot and move and reslot the synth plates for a moment, then looks to Anson, a smile fighting out over the exhaustion in her eyes, "One of the Organizers acknowledged you?"
She moves back a little, to not be in Anson's way.
Anson gestures at the automaton he's been following around.Nalo watches the automaton slot and move and reslot the synth plates for a moment, then looks to Anson, a smile fighting out over the exhaustion in her eyes, "One of the Organizers acknowledged you?"
She moves back a little, to not be in Anson's way.
"Not in the most complimentary terms, but yes."
Ansonflesh
You hear me
The automaton slows slightly as Anson follows it, but still continues its path through the room.
It is currently the only automaton that's moving around while also shuffling plates, but anyone watching notices it's following a very basic path around the room - one big rectangle.
Nalo blinks, bites her bottom lip, "Trying to see causes the pain, reconciling all the things that can not be." She shrugs, "I think I broke something when I pushed past, haven't felt this since the time I spent three days and nights in a five forbidden lib... book depositories trying to find out about Hakotep."
Ceri seems very interested in Nalo's story... and her reaction to the cube. Nalo gets a sense that the other woman would be taking notes if she had paper and something to write with.
"Book depositories." She raises an eyebrow. "Well, maybe a good night's sleep will fix it. But hey, I admire people who push to find their limits."
What am I supposed to do?
Once Kilo has confirmed that no one has died from looking at the cube, he faces it full on, accepting the challenge it presents.
As he tries to comprehend what he's seeing, it feels as though something is tunneling into his brain. An icy pain fills the space behind his eyes.
A Master you seek will be found in the Empty Sanctum
After the insight is relayed, the cube releases its grip. Kilo still feels pain when he looks at it, but it's not the blinding pain of the telepathic connection from moments before.
Once Kilo has confirmed that no one has died from looking at the cube, he faces it full on, accepting the challenge it presents.
Panamax watches Kilo closely, looking for any signs that the glaive is about to ... Panamax isn't sure what he is watching for, but he watches.
For me, it is necessary to sleep to recharge from my day and regain my strength for the new day. I do it regularly.
Your imprisonment sounds boring. I am happy to talk to you. Although there is a wide gulf in our understanding of everything.
Oh
Your sleep sounds boring
And lonely
The energy being, Esha, sounds almost petulant.
I have lived a long time
But you have seen so much more
The gulf is wide
What do you smell, if you do not smell the sun
Panamax ponders responding with sense images of what he smells.
The wind blowing in the forest, sky getting dark, smell of rain.
I smell the weather.
Pungent wildflowers. Trees in bloom.
I smell the plants.
The ocean, crisp wind, waves breaking, salt in the air.
I smell the sea.
Close-up of a curve of bare neck, droplet of sweat running down. Differently salty. Musky.
I smell other people.
Head stuffed up. Shivering. No external smells, but the pressure of mucus and sinuses, with an undercurrent of throbbing pain.
I smell the inside of my own head.
Broken arms, broken legs, broken noses. The tang of blood. Infection, gangrene. Carrying a corpse from an operating theater to a morgue.
The smells of death by degrees. People have an endless variety of smells about us.
Panamax thinks about his traveling companions. Doesn't have a particular smell to associate with any of them yet.
Stick with me, and you can smell a lot of things by proxy.
Is that your preferred sense? What senses do you have?
"I certainly can," Anson says to the robot. "What is your purpose?"
After losing the staring contest with the not-cube, Kilo shakes his head, scrunches his eyes together, presses the tips of his index and middle fingers to a spot just above the bridge of his nose. He breathes in, gathering the dark essence there, then out while releasing it back into the surrounding atmosphere with a short 'away with you' gesture. He looks first over his right shoulder, then his left with audible cracking noises from the area of his vertebrae. "Huh." he comments, looking off somewhere in the distance. Probably not the most exciting thing to watch.
At some point, after people have gotten settled for the night, Ceri sits down next to Sherine."So what do you do in open spaces like this, when there are no walls to converse with?"
"Hmm?" says Sherine, whose mind was obviously elsewhere or elsewhen. "Oh, I mostly enjoy the quiet. Some buildings can be such chatterboxes. But if I miss the company of buildings, there are always others to talk to."
Having already in her life stared at Things-Humans-Aren't-Meant-To-See, Sherine is hardly going to shrink from taking a good long look at the shiny cube.
"it sends i aM supposed to search out a master of the 5th Ring. Have you ever heard of the Empty Sanctum?
Sherine looks straight into the cube. She sees beautiful things; rainbow fractals, landscapes made of mercury, and creatures that defy her imagination.
She feels comforted.
Finally, a mind that understands higher mysteries
After the telepathic message, Sherine feels... different.
We defy entropy
We power the Ophem
After a few moments, it offers nothing else.
Ehsa is quiet for a few minutes after an initial burst of excitement after the image exchange.
My preferred sense is...
A moment while it struggles to communicate the concept. Then, it creates an image of what it experienced when it was trying to eat Panamax's eyes. There's a surge of warmth, a tingle of electricity on his arms and tongue.
Smell, feel, taste
I smell/feel/taste the stars
Another image of rushing lights, rainbow fractals, and a sense of expanding and contracting spaces.
I see through your thoughts
I see the electricity that runs over skin
I see the light that pulses inside you all
"Do you talk to anything other than buildings? How long have you been talking to them?"
She drops her chin onto her hands, paying full attention to Sherine's answers.
Sherine blinks. She breaks away from the Cube.
"That was odd," she says. "Pretty, but odd."
"Do you talk to anything other than buildings? How long have you been talking to them?"
She drops her chin onto her hands, paying full attention to Sherine's answers.
"I'll talk to anyone that talks to me," replies Sherine. "It's how I was raised. Not talking to them would be rude."
Sherine gets a far-away look. "How long... I guess you mean how long have buildings been speaking to me?"
She counts on her fingers silently. She ends up with her thumb and index finger extended. "About 5 years, I guess. They started talking right after my epiphany."
A sudden thought strikes Panamax. A sad one.
Are there other people of your kind? Were there? Do you know? Can you tell after we leave this place?
Panamax watches Anson follow the automaton in its basic dance around the room. "I wonder if they have names," he says. "Or just numbers. Or if identity is unnecessary because they know who they are."
Anson calls back over his shoulder. "I'm not even sure if they have a concept of individuality yet. This one speaks in terms of 'we.' In terms of names versus number, a number can be a name. It's a designation. It applies identification..." He pauses. "Machines think in numbers. In math. So a simple number would be akin to a single letter. A name, like you're thinking of, would be closer to an equation."
Then, to the automaton. "How about it? Do you have a name?"