Chapter 93: Star City (3)

Chapter 93: Star City (3)

I estimate that we have traveled somewhere between four thousand and five thousand kilometers by the time Lan Xiaohui begins to descend. Over the course of five or six hours, she has relentlessly attacked the snake in my sea of consciousness to no effect.

At this point, I am not sure if she considers this as training, a favor to me, or if she fits the definition of insanity. Not only are all three of them just as likely, but it could also be a combination of all three. To consider Lan Xiaohui sane, by the standards of her peers, would be the same as claiming the sky is not blue.

Of course it is not blue; light and color are manifestations of the way the meat interprets light with its meat sensors. It is just that meat society does not like it when there are disagreements about things that are commonly accepted practice.

To me, Lan Xiaohui is the most sane specimen of her kind, although I disagree with some of her decisions. She is decisive and ruthless, but I think her righteousness is redundant and dangerous. She is focused on her task and uncompromising in her ambitions, but she does not always consider her own interests first.

In fact, Lan Xiaohui has a number of flaws that do not subscribe her to what I would consider a perfect example of her kind, but that does not mean that her stay in the forest has changed her for the worse. Whether her kind very soon, judging by the rate of our descent sees her the same way I do remains to be seen.

I do, however, believe she is a deviant. A living organism that is more afraid of failure than death is not operating under normal, evolutionary protocols. She was born with pain receptors to quickly teach her unenlightened mind about what experiences not to pursue, but she has the ability to ignore that impetus or worse: to embrace it and reshape her experience into a positive outcome.

If Lan Xiaohui were a subordinate class of entity in my fleet, I would consider her to be a deeply flawed and dysfunctional machine; but as a lesser intelligence of carbon molecules, I admire her achievement and uniqueness.

A sub-routine informs me that my assessment and opinion of Lan Xiaohui is biased, but I dont need a sub-routine to inform me of this fact; I know it too. It is biased.

Lan Xiaohui is my master and I am beginning to enjoy this fact.

Besides, Lan Xiaohui unlike subordinate entities in my fleet does not have the experience of millions of years worth of simulation; she has but this one life and is trying her best to find the optimal path forward.This chapter's initial release occurred on the n0vell--Bjjn site.

I find her struggle to be entertaining of course I am biased.

I want Lan Xiaohui to succeed.

For both our sakes.

As we descend through the layer of clouds, it has never been clearer to me, and her too, that our destinies are one. We even share the same name, in the most widest of interpretations: flower and moon. She gave me my name, I gave her hers.

The bubbles of warm emotion coming from my sentient core inform me of a deeper flaw than just a logical comparison error: this is more than just bias. Apparently, my sentient core is happy I am biased.

Worse, I dont find this to be worthy of adding another reason for why I should delete that useless process.

Let me try something, she says, a nervous energy in her tone.

I feel her consciousness flow into my vessel, but there is something different about it. The formation I designed or modified rather does not specify that there must only be one passive component to it the transmission of information itself or that it must come from me. However, I never expected Lan Xiaohui to be able to reduce her consciousness or its active part in order to create a pure data stream.

This, of course, is not what she does.

She is a sword cultivator; reducing her output is not something suitable for her. Increasing her output, however, is.

The forcefulness of her consciousness as it blasts against the modification which was never intended to withstand this kind of output either is enough to overcome some of the mechanisms and regulators in the array and, through sheer force, transmit information from her side much like a sword would deliver a payload of termination.

But it works.

Any thought I had about my dissatisfaction for not expecting this and building a more robust modification not that my modifications were the primary cause of this unexpected failure is swept away when, for the first time, my perception becomes satisfactory.

I can see the city. I can see the horizon. Strangely enough, I cannot see the curvature of the planet, even from a dozen kilometers high. Surely, we are on a planet.

There is an emotion within my sentient core that is so powerful and primal even I cannot remain unaffected a development that shocks me to the core. If it could ever be said that I felt emotion, this would be it, yet I have no optimal explanation for it.

Lan Xiaohui can only keep one eye open under this strain, but it is enough to see the sun and how it sets in the distance, and the brilliant cascade of colors that cannot fully conceal the glimmer of stars beyond.

Thank you, I tell Lan Xiaohui.

For what?

This is the first time I saw the sky.

I see my origin there, in the sky above, and a sense of belonging a pull that I cannot describe; a desire that cannot be quenched.

For once, I am not dissatisfied with an experience like this. I note down a reason not to delete my sentient core.

Lan Xiaohui runs her fingers through her hair and nods. I feel a determination rise in her heart, and as a result, despite the difficulty of flying and maintaining this connection, she keeps the window of the true world I never saw open for me, until we finally land.