Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Lily, why is this station so impossibly large? Ennos asks with a put upon sigh.

I should never have connected that last grid node with the level four through ten cameras wired in. Theyve got a sense of scale now, and its made Ennos even more concerned.

Which means that I get to know about those concerns. Even if theyre for silly things, like how much relative space exists within the boundary of the stations hull plates!

Part of me wants to ignore the question. Im not exactly busy, which is a nice change from my usual frenetic itinerary, but Im also relaxing in my own way, and taking a break to talk about this just sounds like itll be too close to work.

Look, sometimes Im allowed to let my ancient cat instincts show, okay?

Lily? Ennos prompts me again, and I roll myself out of the box of dirt Ive been laying in, careful not to crush the tiny green sprouts that Im communing with. I may as well answer; they dont tend to actually ask twice unless its something the mildly paranoid AI is actually concerned with.

I walk out of my garden, letting the cleaner nanos flow around me like a glittering cape, moving with microscopic precision as they collect their farmer brothers and return them to their proper place. Im here. I say. Whats up with the station now? I ask.

Theres too much of it! Ennos sounds less alarmed, and more just exasperated. Youd think months of putting up with me would have gotten them used to this sort of thing, but no. No one would build a station like this! Its unwieldy, its impractical, its *madness*. Why is there so much station?! Is this another *thing*?

The last word was said with the same kind of annoyance that Ennos used when they said haunted.

Oh. Nah. I meow as I try to decide what Im doing with my time today. Ive got about two hours before I need to go EVA to modify a millennia old communications buoy, and I feel like I could maybe use this time for hm.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

I pause in my aimless walk, and just sort of stand motionless in the hallway. I dont really want to do anything, actually. The omnipresent feeling of grim exhausted hopelessness surges up past my mental defenses, and I slump against the bulkhead, tail curling up under my legs.

Theres too many things I should be doing. Too many things I could be doing. And I dont even know what

If its not something bizarre, could you at least tell me why we have an entire zoological containment center? Ennos asks, either oblivious to how Im feeling, or trying to needle me out of it. If its the latter, then Im annoyed that its the kind of thing that works.

Answering questions, especially since I dont have to use a physical voice to do it, is something I can focus on. Its because everyone like, everyone who found out about it, everyone who came after, all the governments and militaries and boards, they all wanted to own this place. I tell Ennos. So they find it, and they launch expeditions. And if they stick around long enough, they want it to do what *they* want. What theyre used to. So they add stuff.

Like a zoological containment center. Its shocking how Ennos, a creature that humanity has portrayed as an emotionless machine for hundreds of years, can put so much snark into using a perfectly neutral voice.

Sure. Or a custom barracks, or their own infirmaries if theyre different species, or have different traditions or religions or whatever. Their own weapons. Whatever they wanted. But the station doesnt like it when people take stuff away. So, the old stuff accrues over time, and

The next words Ennos says are less deadpan and more anxious. Lily, you keep talking about the station like its alive. They say.

Its not really a question, but Ill probably answer it. Im starting to feel a little more energetic, so I take advantage of the temporary emotional updraft, pick a destination, and start a wobbling walk toward the boundary of where Ive personally explored the station.

I know where the boundary is, because if possible, I keep all doors Ive explored open. Ennos says this is a cat thing. I think they just dont understand that *I* cant look through every camera all the time, and I like to see into rooms.

It is. Sort of. I try to talk as I walk. Its not like you, I guess? Its not a person like we think of people. But it sure feels alive, you know? Theres just so much it does, its hard to not think of it as a living thing. I stop at an intersection, and look up at the thousand year old mural of the station itself, hanging over the Earth, painted on the bulkhead here. Maybe its just code confluence, emergent behavior, weird coincidences, and digital security that hasnt been beaten in *eras*, or maybe its because I live here and my home is special to me. But it feels like theres something more.

No. Maybe. I dont know. I mutter, simultaneously meowing out simple interface commands. Im getting good at multitasking. I should get an award for this. It no, its not a weapon. Its the opposite, really. Or maybe... Well. What it does isnt really the important part. Just that people wanted it. What it does is absolutely important.

So the Oceanic Anarchy built something so monumental, that they needed a semi-intelligent, heavily armed space station to protect it, and its been impressing everyone who came after for the last Ennos stops, and runs into the problem of fuzzy historical records. Between one and fifteen thousand years? They estimate, probably inaccurately.

That seems unlikely. Glitter comments. I know shes not trying to be mean, but it sounds a little mean. Would we not have heard?

No. I say. Because everyone has spent most of that time trying to hide it. Even the Anarchy. Oh, hey, theres actually a derelict within thousand kilometers of here that has the hull patterning of a Kind Olympus transport hauler. That might actually have what I need. I break out of my listless slump long enough to flick a paw to the display, and save the coordinates. I can check that out tomorrow.

Why, though? Ennos says. They practically owned the solar system, presided over a golden age! Why would they hide what they built when-

Because they didnt build it. I cut them off. They they didnt build it. They *found* it. Built the station around it. Spent years studying where it was from, what it was for. Spent even longer debating what to do with it. And they *did* talk about it! Though most of those records were purposefully killed off, theyre still stored in one of the sarcophagus archives here. I close down my displays and look over at the watching drones. Its kind of nice to have something to look at while I talk. And then they turned it on.

Its alien. Ennos says. Truly alien? An outside context artifact?

A sign of the divinity of the galaxy. Glitter mutters. Or no. Because theres more to the story, isnt there? She asks me.

There is. I say. The Ays turned it on. And the golden age ended. And heres where it gets hard to tell you why. Because they were digital minds. Ennos, you ever wonder where paramaterials come from? Or, Glitter, do you get curious about some of the stranger surface targets we shoot?

No.

Of course not.

Right. And why is that? I ask.

Because Ennos trails off. Because. Because theyre because Their voice gets quiet, and then stops entirely. Thats very strange. They say. Oh, I do not like that feeling at all.

One theory, from a Real American scientist, was that the original device was actually an anti-AI weapon, and everything else is a side effect. I fail to explain. But all I know is, they figured out enough of what it was capable of, turned it on, and people died, and the fires started. And the wars followed. And the world burned. And now, Im whats left. Just me, and you two, to keep the secret.

In trusting them, I find myself suddenly realizing that I should have explained this all so long ago. Why didnt I just trust them? My friends. Who are here for me. I didnt need to hide anything. And yet, the talking is still so hard; like Im dragging it out of me the hard way.

Glitter speaks up. But *why*? She demands, almost angry. What could they have thought this machine could possibly do that would be worth that?

Glitter. I say in a near whisper, giving her drone a wide eyed stare, Im a four hundred and one year old housecat. Somehow, its easier to say than I thought it would be. I almost feel lighter. What do *you* think the machine does?

I close my AR displays and check the time. Ive got places to be, and Im feeling emotionally drained, and hijacking an ancient comms buoy sounds like it might be a nice break at this point.

A hop off my storage crate, a quick spoken word on where Im going, a flick of my whiskers, and Im off to the drone bay to get loaded into my engineers armor. Ill talk to my friends later, when Im feeling up to it.

And behind me, I hear Ennos soft Oh.