Inner Sanctum | 3:43 PM | Second Day The first time I'd heard of Fang had been, like Hamilcar, quite a long time before I ever expected us to interact directly. Everyone in our class was considered prodigiously talented (well, with the possible exception of Ptolema, who might have been more a combination of rich and extremely lucky), but there's a difference between talent and talent. Most people thought of as child geniuses are really just early bloomers who grow up in the right environment; they find themselves in a positive feedback loop, learn faster than most, become big fish in the small pond of mandatory schooling and skip a few years, and suddenly everyone's talking about them like they're the next Sara of Xattusa. Human beings have this really bad habit of always looking for special people, of singling out any individual who happens to be performing well at what they're currently doing and acting like they emerged fully-formed from the forehead of a deity. The perspective of evolutionary psychology is that this occurs due to individuals trying to rationalize their natural predisposition towards desiring to submit to whichever person seems the most capable or intelligent in their social group, since being able to unify under a competent leader instead of in-fight is obviously a desirable trait for a group of animals. In the Old Kingdoms era, if someone inspired that impulse, they'd be called divinely chosen. In more rational times, you'd have people saying they had to possess some special mutation in their anima script, or some enlarged component of their brain. The framing changes, but the response remains static. But in reality, people are mostly just people, and almost all success is circumstantial. That's why most childhood prodigies end up peaking early, then becoming talented, but ultimately ordinary adults. That was probably fate of most in our class. Assuming the remaining two years of the course didn't kill them, my classmates,(again, possibly barring Ptolema) would likely all have successful careers and be responsible for many notable academic achievements, but wouldn't be going down in the history books. Lilith was a harder one to call, but I'd seen even kids like her meet the same outcome when push came to shove. But Fang... A lot of people take that logic I just rattled off and use it to say that there aren't any exceptional people. And maybe that's true-- Maybe every the most amazing-seeming individual is really just riding the mother of all positive feedback loops. I mean, how could you know? But I'd first heard about Fang when I was eight years old, when they'd successfully identified the flaw in the math of a new anti-viral incantation, and published a correction which improved its effectivity by 200%. For reference, whenever a new virus emerged, the Grand Alliance's Public Health Council would convene a team of several hundred physicians and arcanists from various spheres of expertise to develop a treatment and a recommendation for its implementation as quickly as possible, before it could get out of hand. The people who were invited to these teams were usually at the top of their fields-- If not the best, then at least close to it. And Fang had made fools of them all, without any specialized equipment beyond a commercial logic engine. Without even being able to cast yet and test their own work. And they'd done it at age thirteen. It was such a fantastical scenario that, when I was older, I'd thought my distant memory of hearing about it in the news was just the product of my childhood imagination warping something I'd read in a novel or seen in a play. But no. It was distressingly real. After that, they'd become almost a legitimate celebrity overnight, and had catapulted through universities and all sorts of high-profile contests and arcane conclaves, picking up degrees and accolades like ordinary people picked up throat infections. They were technically specialized as an Alchemist - an artificer that developed medicine, rather than a direct healer - but in practice, I think they probably thought the concept of 'specialization' was for other people. All of us had soared above our peers to be in the Exemplary Acolytes Class, and still had a pretty tough time managing the workload and the level of consistent creativity and academic competence it demanded. But for Fang, it was just another thing they did. They only showed up at all less then half the time, and when they did... Forget incanting, it was genuinely a harrowing experience just to watch them work. Think about the last time you wrote an essay, and how the whole process was paced-- You probably sketched out some notes, wrote a bit, stopped and thought about it a little, wrote a bit more, got caught up on something awkward and had to look it up, maybe took a quick break... Even at the best of times, that's how it goes, right? That wasn't how it went for them. They would come into class, sit down, and just write. Nonstop, without pausing even a second for thought. And the work was brilliant! Perfectly voiced, cited, and comprehensive to the point that it put even the wordiest of Kamrusepa's stuff to shame! And they just did it, like they were transcribing directly from the voice of God. The first time I saw it happen, I couldn't stop staring for the entire afternoon. This will sound obsessive, but I'd thought about it, and come to the conclusion that what they had to be doing was essentially arranging the entire thing in their head beforehand, holding it there in totality, and then just transferring it onto parchment. It was inhuman. There was no other word for it. What made it even stranger was that, other than that, they were a pretty normal person. ...well, so much as any of us were normal. Back to the present. They glanced around the room from the doorway, taking in their surroundings. "Oh... Looks like I missed the start," they said, laughing awkwardly. "Sorry about that! Y'know, terrorist attacks-- Really mess up trying to travel! If I'd been one Aetherbridge slot later, I'd probably be stuck in some lockdown feeling pretty stupid." They laughed to themselves, drawing it out, embracing the strangeness of the moment. But no one responded, simply staring. It had been an impolitely dramatic entrance, to be certain. If this were a play, everyone would probably collectively gasp, and someone from the inner circle would shout something like, 'what is the meaning of this?!' That was, if I had to guess, the reaction that Fang had been hoping for. Unfortunately, that wasn't normally how things went in reality. Instead, the atmosphere just became very awkward. None of us on the stands could carry our voices over to the door without shouting, which would've felt inappropriate, and the six at the round table seemed more baffled and annoyed by the sudden interruption then strictly upset. Aruru was at least sophisticated enough as a machine to realize that it should stop its explanation, and so for a few moments, the chamber fell into complete silence. "...wooh. Tough crowd." Fang said after a few moments had passed, smiling nervously. (Well, seemingly nervously. I'm not sure they were capable of being genuinely nervous about anything.) "Maybe I should come back later?" No one responded to this immediately, either. After a few moments, though, Zeno said something to the other council members in a hushed tone, quiet enough that I could only make out the more pointed parts. "...discussed this... said they wouldn't be coming..." "...agree... ...not be an issue..." Durvasa said, nodding softly, his gaze narrowed. Anna said something too, but her voice was so soft that I couldn't make out a single word. "...try not to overreact..." Linos said, cautiously. I glanced around to see how some of the others were reacting. Ran and Lilith didn't seem to be paying attention, while everyone else looked worried or confused. Kamrusepa, on the other hand, seemed to be making a similar effort to pick up on everything she could of what they were saying, her expression intentful and focused. Oddly, though, she didn't look surprised. Kamrusepa had a bit of a chip on her shoulder about Fang, and before they'd announced they weren't coming to this affair, I knew she'd been worried about being upstaged. So you'd think it would've at least been a little annoying to her. But there was none of that on her face at all. Had she somehow known this was coming? "...whatever they... ...not appropriate..." I thought I heard from Anna. "...dressed like a barbarian, for something this critical..." "...couldn't have got in without... ...even let them in?" Zeno continued, his brow furrowing in thoughtful curiosity. "Oh, I did," Neferuaten said casually. In contrast, she made no noticeable effort to temper the volume of her voice. "Sacnicte gave me the news that they'd be able to attend after all this morning, and they'd already set up a trip to the Aetherbridge, so I made some last-minute arrangements." To my left, Sacnicte subtly but visibly winced, sucking in the air through her teeth. It was a face that I knew well from my early childhood: Of someone who knew they were about to take the blame for something completely over their head. "What?!" Durvasa exclaimed, sitting up sharply and visibly angry. "Why didn't you consult us!" "It was during the fiasco this morning. You all seemed rather too busy to be bothered with logistical minutia," she said, so disaffected about it that she wasn't even bothering to make eye contact. "We have had several meetings since then, girl," Anna said, her expression imperceptible under her hood. "There has been more than enough time for you to notify us about this, to give us time to have some discourse over the issue." "With all due respect, I'm not sure I see the issue, your ladyship," Neferuaten said, with a wide smile. "Or yours, Durvasa. Our plan was always to invite all the members of the Exemplary Acolytes Class. We made accommodations when the most prominent member declared an inability to attend last week, but it was never exactly the intent of the whole endeavor, was it?" "Don't play the fool, Nef," Durvasa replied, frowning deeply. "You know this isn't that simple." "Is it not?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. "So far as I'm concerned, you ought to be pleased." There was a distinct note of mischief in Neferuaten's tone, now, not to mention her expression. It was another look I recognized. In this case, of knowing you are doing something naughty, and further, that you're going to get away with it. Something was clearly going on here. Even if I was ignorant of the details, I knew a move when I saw one. But on the other hand, Neferuaten was correct. Fang had received an invitation about a month ago along with all of us, and had only pulled out recently, citing 'other obligations'. There was no room for subterfuge in that sense - I'd seen both the letter to the headmaster that listed all of our names, and had even caught a glimpse of Fang's personal one when they were waving it around after we reconvened from our spring break. So why did some of the order seem to mind so much...? "This is... Getting a little uncomfortable..." Ophelia said nervously, keeping her voice down. "Yeah, no kidding," Ptolema said. "Sheesh." Durvasa glared at Neferuaten with visible frustration, but either because he'd heard the two of them start to comment, or because he'd simply exhausted the manners in which he could escalate the situation in front of us, he didn't say anything further. "Hey, if you want me to leave, I can leave!" Fang said, with a bright expression. "I mean, I guess the trip is a bit of a pain, but. I've been given bigger runarounds!" "No, that will not be necessary," Hamilcar said, his tone tired. I couldn't see his face at the current angle, but Durvasa stiffened a little at the words, so I wouldn't have been surprised if he was giving him a look of considerable disapproval. And possibly also Neferuaten, but she was never really one to care what people thought of her. "I apologize on behalf of my fellow council members. That was not the appropriate level of courtesy for an invited guest, least of all one your esteem, acolyte. Though your arrival is certainly a surprise, it is a welcome." He's avoiding pronouns and gendered language. Well, that probably wasn't a surprise. It wasn't as though Fang even really asked people to refer to them in gender neutral terms, not that I would have really had a problem with it if they did-- Although that certainly didn't stop Kam and a few others from being varying degrees of shitty and passive-aggressive over the issue, as you saw back when we were grouping up outside the Aetherbridge. Rather, they just implied their feelings by presenting themselves in a way that was genuinely ambiguous. It's a delicate thing to try to put into words and probably even foolish to think about, but it really was difficult to tell what the... Makeup of their body was, uh, physically. They always wore clothes loose around the chest. They were tall, but not widely built. Their face was soft, but not small. They didn't have any facial hair, but their eyebrows were lower and thicker than you'd normally expect from a woman, and while their voice was pretty husky, it was more resonant and melodic than you'd hear from a man. Like Ran and I, Fang was Saoic - though from the Arcanocracy instead of the League - and a lot of foreigners in our extended social circle would say things like, 'oh, they're Saoic, so of course it's hard to tell!' which, aside from being vaguely offensive, was also extremely irritating, since I didn't feel like that had anything to do with it. It's not something most people think about, but a lot of how human beings perceive sex is contextual; a product of mental dominoes falling more than reaching a genuinely fact-based conclusion. For example, if you see a dainty person wearing a feminine-looking dress, your brain will recognize those qualities as heavily associated with the concept of 'female', and then conspire to frame any further evidence as support for that conclusion. There have been experiments about this sort of thing - if you take an identical picture of an androgynous person and show it to two different people, telling each of them they're the opposite sex, then ask them to describe them in their own words, they'll use completely different language. When one knows that, it's not difficult to game the system to an extent. I said a second ago that Fang's face was soft... But 'soft' is a pretty fuzzy, relative word. Was it actually that way, or did the context just lead me to believe it? I feel like trying to talk about this is making me sound like a creep. I should probably stop. Uh, in any case, that's not to say it prevented people from drawing tacky conclusions. I knew Ptolema, at least - who, despite her good-nature, was still a sheltered person who'd had a conservative upbringing - had made a 'deduction', based mostly on the fact that those articles I mentioned from when they were a child referred to them in as a girl. But there were other, more recent sources that seemed to contradict this, and whenever someone rude decided they'd 'figured it out' and started addressing them as one or another, Fang would just start acting as if they were a silly misunderstanding; or rather, that they were simple. Older people, needless to say, sometimes struggled with this, especially in a culture as stuffy as the academic community. To people whose worldview was invested in the idea of progress within the context of long-standing traditions and etiquette, the only thing worse than a deviant was a successful deviant. I knew it had to be frustrating, having it overshadow the things they actually did. ...and yet, here I was, fixating on it myself. "Hey, it's cool," they said, stepping forward a bit. "I'm sure it's kinda a pain. I was surprised when I heard you could still accommodate me on such short notice. But I guess there's no such thing in the world as a clean change of plans, huh?" They fiddled with their hair a little, then flicked it to the side. "By the fact that you were comfortable going on like that at all, I'm guessing that the proper conference hasn't started yet?" "That's correct," Hamilcar said. "Great!" They clapped their hands together. "That's great." "Do you have a presentation prepared?" "Presentation." They spoke the word furtively, then folded their arms, tapping their forefinger against their elbow. "Right, right. Yeah, I should have something put together." "You 'should'," Durvasa echoed, with a stern edge to the word. "Well, this is all a bit last minute, isn't it? I was working on an idea, but when I thought I had to cancel, it ended up on the back-burner." They laughed awkwardly. "Don't worry, though! I'll figure something out!" Another thing about Fang, and the main way they weren't normal, was that they didn't really seem to have a concept of authority figures. That's not to say they were an elitist, or thought they were better than other people - if anything, it was the opposite. They treated absolutely everyone with the same familiar, easy-going attitude. Like nothing was really that serious. Once again. Older people, needless to say, sometimes struggled with this. Durvasa grit his teeth. "Work something out--" "That's enough, companion-legionary," Hamilcar said. Even when obviously reprimanding someone, his tone still wasn't particularly stern-- Like he was being forced to say the words, reading from a script. It really was dissonant. "Coming from anyone else," Neferuaten offered, "that would worry me, but let's consider who we're talking about, here." She smiled. "I should not think this would be the one time they'd make a fool of themselves in public." "Hey, you never know!" Fang said. "I've had a few close calls." They cleared their throat. "Uh, seriously, though. I do have some stuff prepared. Some notes, I think I might've sketched some diagrams on my logic engines, and I did bring something particular--" "It does not seem you're in possession of your scepter," Anna said tersely, with a gesture of her head toward their waist. "Oh, yeah. Some stuff happened with that. Long story," they said, glancing to the side. "Don't worry, though - I barely use the thing, to be honest. I prefer just keeping runes on bracelets and using bottled eris. Less stiff then lugging some big rod around." This reply obviously annoyed Anna, which in turn seemed to amuse Zeno, who chuckled darkly. "So! I don't wanna hold things up any further," they said. "Should I take a seat? Or...?" "Yes, if you would not mind, acolyte. We're already behind schedule." "Please, follow me to the seating area," Aruru said again, seeming to pick up on the context. Durvasa clicked his tongue, crossing his arms unhappily. "We didn't plan for this, either." Fang followed the golem to the back of the room. Before it could even start explaining the gender separation, they muttered something like 'oh, more space on this side' and then went towards the boys, climbing up. They asked Ezekiel to scoot along and make room, and he gave them an absolutely foul expression before complying. Fang noticed, of course. It would have been impossible not to. But that was how they always dealt with that kind of thing - by playing ignorant. And that, for the time being, seemed to be that. "Well, then," Hamilcar said, was that was through. "Where were we... Aruru, please continue with the explanation." "As you wish, master Hamilcar," it said, returning to its position. "To repeat. Following this, you will be called forward to offer your presentations in alphabetical order, though you may change this at special request. Each of you will be allocated a maximum of 10 minutes of speaking time, followed by 10 minutes of questions from the discretionary council. After this, a closing statement will be given by Linos of Melanthos as the youngest present. There will then be a short postmortem retrospective on the meeting before we adjourn." It bowed its head. "Please, feel free to ask any questions before we proceed." "Hey, I have a question," Seth said, speaking up. "Please, go ahead," it said. "Will there be any breaks?" "Normally, a recess is called only once or if the event exceeds 200 minutes," the golem replied. "A special request can be made for one between segments, but we humbly ask you only do so if the need is dire." Wow. Sacnicte hadn't been kidding. "Uh, understood," he replied, looking a little worried. "If you don't mind, I had something I wished to inquire about," Kamrusepa said. "You said that the limit for speaking was 10 minutes. Will we be cut off, should we exceed that? Or will there be a period of leeway?" "Traditionally, it is unenforced," Hamilcar said, apparently deciding this was too complicated a concept to leave in the hands of the machine. "However, in this particular instance, I would strongly encourage you stay within or under the limit if remotely possible. If it becomes necessary to curtail more of the theatrical elements of your presentations to enable this, then we will endeavor to be understanding. I am sure I speak for the entire council when I say no one anticipated the event would be so troubled." "I understand," Kamrusepa said. I thought I detected a note of disappointment in her tone. I guess she was planning something pretty ambitious. "As for the presentations themselves - should we address only the council, or any spectators present, as well?" "In formal terms, this is only a meeting between your group and ours, in which observers have been conditionally invited," he replied. "But I will leave it to your discretion." "I understand, sir," she spoke, nodding. "My planned introductory speech addresses both, but if that's acceptable, I'll leave it unchanged." He nodded. "Were there any further questions?" Aruru asked. Glancing over at Fang, I noticed that they seemed to be barely paying attention. Instead, they were looking over some documents they'd stuffed into their pockets and fiddling with a logic engine, smiling cheerfully to themselves. "Um, it's not a question," Ophelia said, "but I'd like to make a special request to go first, since you said that was possible...? Some of my materials are more optimal if they're, well, stored properly before use, and it might be more awkward to execute my demonstration if I wait until alphabetical order..." "Understood," the golem said, bowing its head. "The schedule shall be rearranged so that Ophelia of the Glass FIelds shall be the first to give her presentation." "Thank you," she said. No one had any further questions. "Very good," Hamilcar said. I heard what I thought was a sigh come through his metal throat, but it was hard to tell. It was distinctly more artificial then his speech, coming across more like a subtle rush of formless noise, like the beating of the tides against the coast. "Now, then. With that out of the way, I shall ask you to attune to the logic bridges situated adjacent to your seating, so that you might become accustomed to our artificial hall." He looked towards Mehit. "In your case, it is optional, Mehit. If you do not wish to be involved--" "No," she said, shaking her head as she sat up. "I will." Slowly, we all reached out and pressed our hands against the glassy surface. When I did, a second 'room' became overlaid upon the first, which, while still visible, receded to a more distant state. This one depicted a much grander, more traditional hall. We were situated on a wooden platform in the center of a huge circular chamber, with row upon row of cushioned stands extending upwards at least 40 levels, though in truth it looked like there was no defined terminus - it was probably designed to adapt in size based on the crowd. Like most such spaces, there were also grand decorations that would have been impractical in reality - in this case, there was a "moat" of water (what was it with the order and aquatics?) which separated us from the spectators, and in the aisles, there were grandiose glass spires which rose all the way to the ceiling. Hamilcar hadn't populated it with people yet, but still, it was a stark reminder of the scale of what was about to happen. I fiddled with my hair, making sure no strands were fraying out of my braids. I saw some of the others doing similarly, especially Kam, who at this point already had her game face on, resembling more the version of herself I'd seen yesterday morning than her usual self. I wonder if she's still thinking about the body, too, an irritating voice intruded. About those eyes... I shook my head sharply. No time to think about that now. Ran noticed the mannerism, raising an eyebrow at me. I thought about something, in that moment. She had to know that something had happened, back at the end of that tour... But when she'd had a chance, back when we were sitting together outside, she hadn't brought it up. She hadn't even alluded to it. Maybe that was the sign of a true friend. Someone who could see through to your core, but knew when not to prod it. But she didn't see through to it. Not completely. I smiled at her, all the same. She opened her mouth slightly, staring at me like she was wondering if I was an idiot. "Has everyone grown accustomed?" Hamilcar asked. Behind him, Neferuaten closed her eyes, and was taking a deep breath. We all offered varying words of assent. "In that case," he said. "Let us begin."