“When you see something that is technically sweet, you go ahead and do it and you argue about what to do about it only after you have had your technical success.”

-J. Robert Oppenheimer

Kacela arrives in short order and takes in the room at a glance; her eyes fall on the coffee mess, the readout, and Toric and myself. She bristles, but I think it’s Toric’s posture that has set her off more than anything.

“What’s wrong, Toric?” She asks as she moves into the room. Her voice is softer than I’m used to and I notice this is the first time I’ve heard her talk to Toric when she wasn’t arguing with him.

Toric rises and walks calmly over to her, “I need you to watch Grimmlaw. Don’t interfere with him, just watch him. Don’t be your usual self.” Kacela looks hurt and confused but regains her composure when Toric pats her shoulder and walks out.

She gives me thirty seconds of glare before she advances on me, “What did you do to him?” Toric took the rock with him so I’m left with just my words. Half my possessions gone, I notice.

“I think I shook the foundations of his world a little roughly,” I say. It occurs to me that very soon someone is going to come asking for more of what I know. How long before we get to fission? Have I already said too much?

No, the apparent lack of aircraft or other complicated locomotion will limit them for a while. But then I’m struck by the image of bomber sharks passing over a city and I know my excuses are feeble.

Kacela’s response is entirely unexpected. Far from being angry she looks relieved, “Better you than me.” She wanders around the lab and fiddles with a few machines. “I could never bring myself to tell him what I learned in the forest. The cooking he can understand, it’s just matter in a different usage than he’s used to. No more surprising than a sculpture he hasn’t seen yet. But the things I learned from Shzume,” she looks at her hands, held before her. “He can’t see or hear or touch those. He can’t understand, he won’t accept.” She covers her face.

I’m not sure if she’s crying and I don’t know what to say. I cross my fingers in my mind and speak with my gut, “You think he won’t love you?”

She’s definitely crying now and I can’t do anything to help her. Sure I could assure her he loves her but I’ve known him for less than a day. As it is, I feel like I’m overstepping the bounds of our relationship by even talking to her like this.

“What does it mean to go wild?” I ask, hoping to pull her out of herself.

It works. She straightens up and wipes her face before facing me. “What did he say about that?”

“Nothing, I heard you two talking about it last night. After Shzume showed up.” Anything to keep the conversation away from their relationship. I am not a relationships person. Every time I try to get close to someone I start seeing the patterns in their lives. Hal targeting them, bias running them, cognitive dissonance being ignored. I don’t claim to be removed from all these troubles but to see it in someone else and do nothing? That’s something I can’t stand to do. And if I do that for someone, in what way am I, in denying my own creation, still honestly myself? In what way is that relationship worth having?

“To go wild means to live in the forest. In itself it doesn’t mean anything, really. But the forest isn’t a part of The Empire. The Empire’s rules, beliefs, laws, goals, foundations, none of it applies in the forest. In The Empire’s eyes, that is to say everyone’s eyes, you are leaving the world and becoming something Other.” She looks at her hands again, “Those of us that come back are treated differently. We’re not shunned, but we’re not allowed top posts and there is an air of wariness around us.” A smirk lights her face, “Quite handy for security work though.”

“So, why did she come through the city like that?”

“She uses the streets as a harvesting ground. She runs the fish into the streets because the buildings keep the schools from escaping and the sharks can feast.” She sits in Toric’s vacated chair and seems a little more energetic. “Also, she searches for recruits; people too curious to stay bound in The Empire’s worldview. She saw you because you didn’t hide or run. She…” Kacela seems to think better of what she is about to say, “She won’t come for you or anything like that. That’s just what the common people think. In reality we’re just drawn to her, and so we go.” No kidding. With the crap about to fall on my plate I’m seriously considering just walking out the front doors and into the nearest forest. But would then Kacela follow me? And why is that question so complicated? Toric told her to watch me, sure, but how serious is her task?

“Didn’t she send those sharks after me though? How can she recruit me if I’m shark food?” Today I could stand against a shark, but not yesterday.

“It’s just her nature. Scion of the hunt, battle, and blood. If you don’t come to her knowing that, she’ll eat you up. A shark in a woman’s body. Some people think she actually is a shark and just changed into a human to trick people. But I don’t.”

“How long were you in the forest?” I’m starting to get too personal again, I can tell. Maybe talk about Emmaline next? I don’t know, the segue is a bit abrupt.

“Fifteen years. I left my home city when I was sixteen. I had been watching her hunts for three years and one night I couldn’t stand it anymore. When she passed I just jumped out onto her shark and rode away.” She looks away for a moment. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I try to leave my past in the past.”

“Alright.”

I let the silence spread between us but Kacela doesn’t seem to care; she’s staring at my feet.

“Thanks for the food. It was great.” I’m not great with an awkward silence.

“Thanks.”

What was that all about? To break down in front of a complete stranger. What did she talk about? Her time with Shzume and how it changed her. Maybe the stigma is more pervasive than she’s letting on. I’ve only ever seen her with Toric. She didn’t even interact with the day-sitter. I assumed Toric was good to her, but I’ve seen so little. Would he have left the cooking to her even without my help? Who are these people? And why are they so much more interesting than anyone from the real world?

Well, three reasons: first, this is a world completely designed around my desires so things are naturally more interesting; second, people in the real world are separated from me due to a disparity in perspective (the few who know about Hal approve of its existence); third, I’ve never given anyone the chance to become interesting.

The first two are so much grist for the mill but the third bothers me. I am so disconnected from society that there isn’t time enough for another person to exist along with me, at least not long enough to have a personality. I need a Hermits of New England social club. “Being alone, together.” It could be our motto.

Toric returns, just then, with an ancient man (his wrinkles have wrinkles kind of guy) wearing a white lab coat absolutely covered in those runic markings, many segments in different colors. His hair is wispy but his eyes are sharp and his mouth unsmiling.

With a short bow Toric introduces him. “Grandmaster Jarrek, this is Grimmlaw.”

The grandmaster looks me over for a moment before his eyes flick to Kacela, “Leave.” His voice is flat and his eyes immediately return to me, banishing her completely. Kacela rises and leaves the room without comment, not even a glance at Toric.

“Fourth master Toric has told me of what you said,” every word is slow and with a pause between each as if waiting for a slow writer to take them down, “it is both inaccurate in phrasing and upsetting in form.” He’s frowning and his lip curls slightly in obvious contempt. “All scientific formulae in The Great Planar Empire of Physicality shall be presented in Ether-script or not at all.” I’m not sure if his mode of speech is habit or if he actually thinks me dim. “Until such time as you can express your -opinions- in the proper form we forbid you to speak of them.” So, the advanced architecture hides a draconian authority. You’re free to enjoy our state-sanctioned art to the limits of your state-sanctioned pleasure. “Fourth master Toric will instruct you in the writing and reading of Ether-script until you are proficient enough to be assigned to the Diamond Causeway.”

Then he turns and leaves, no time for questions or debate apparently.

Toric waits for him to leave completely, then he’s right to business “Ether-script is the formal language of science and mathematics. It comprises both mathematical functions as well as scientific properties and procedures. This, is my third master thesis for transmuting stone to phase-ductile diamond.” He turns slightly and points to his tattoos. “I’ll start you on mathematics then advance to scientific properties and finally onto scientific processes.” Toric’s earlier emotion seems almost out of character as compared to his new stoic demeanor. Signs of a recent scolding, I bet.

“Just a moment,” Toric says as he leaves the room. He returns a minute later with another book Ether-script of Fundamental Mathematics. “Please read this. I’ll be around the lab if you need anything.” Handing me the book he sets off to clean up the mess from earlier.

I sit in the chair vacated by Kacela and flip through the book. It’s a mix of English and runic symbols, mostly Celtic looking, very simple and only using a handful of angled straight lines. It doesn’t take much looking at the sample problems to work out which are addition, subtraction, etc. I could be done with the book in a couple hours, since the last set of symbols are related to set theory, so I start reading at lightning speed, only stopping when a problem or formula contains a rune I don’t know.

Toric has returned to his microscope but he hasn’t moved in a while.

“What are you working on?” I ask.

“What? Oh.” He says as he stands up and looks around like a spooked deer. “I’m, uh, cataloging the vibrational frequencies of the states of liquid stone.”

“What does that mean?” That sounds an awful lot like the measuring vibration he claims they don’t do.

“Umm, nothing, nevermind. I was just thinking. Did you have a question?”

“Not really, I was just getting bored of relearning math so I figured I’d ask what you were up to. What does a fourth master spend his time doing?”

Toric still seems hesitant to answer any more of my questions. “We conduct experiments. In this facility we’re looking for new materials or new properties of materials.” As if to answer my curiosity he adds, “Please don’t ask any more questions unless there’s something you don’t understand.”

I feel more contagious than ever. Minimal contact. I return to the book. Oh look! Exponents, how exciting.

Stupid game.

* * *

Just as I turned the last page of Ether-script of Fundamental Mathematics, Toric speaks up without even looking up from the journal he’s writing in.

“Let’s go to lunch.” He glances at my hand turning the final page, “and I guess I’ll get you started on scientific properties afterwards.”

We head out of the lab and work our way, approximately (my sense of direction isn’t perfect and there aren’t a lot of windows), away from the entrance and further into the building. As we get further along I notice more and more people moving in our general direction, flowing out of labs and desks in unison. Finally, we pass through an open arch, sculpted to resemble tree boughs with fruit hanging down, into a large room full of tables seating four; and a line of people obscuring a counter against the back wall. I follow Toric. As we get in line, he turns to me.

“Just take whatever you like, there’s no cost. Do you have any allergies?”

Allergies? Well, in the real world I can’t handle peanuts but would that even translate to this world? Is this body susceptible to allergies? More and more I’m wishing this game had had a manual.

“Nuts.” Let’s play it safe; trying to ask for an epipen seems a little too optimistic.

“Oh, don’t worry then. We only serve local food. No nuts here.”

We’re only in line for a minute before we reach the trays, plates, and cups. They’re all made of ceramic but they feel lighter than I’m used to. Hollow? Bubbled? An entirely different material? The food all looks boring; steamed vegetables, raw fruit, cooked meat. I can’t see or smell any spices so I go with a fruit heavy plate but include several vegetables and meats I haven’t tried yet just to get some more exposure. The drink selection is similarly limited: water or coffee. I choose water. As we turn from the line, Toric stops to look around for a moment before setting out again. It’s obvious what he was looking for when I notice we’re headed for Kacela, sitting alone at a table. When we sit, Toric next to Kacela and me opposite him, I notice Toric has about half and half meat and vegetables and Kacela has gone with a fruit heavy plate like me. I try a red potato looking thing and grimace as I chew; it tastes like wax.

“Kacela’s cooking is not the normal fare of the Empire. We use less ingredients and focus on the flavor inherent to the food instead of modifying it.” Toric’s explanation reminds me of my earlier conversation with Kacela and I notice her easing away a frown that had settled on her brow.

“I’m sure I’ll find something I like.” The other vegetable I took tastes like wet paper (don’t ask how I know that flavor) and the meat tastes like bland tofu and I wonder if my tongue might be programmed wrong. At least the fruit has flavor, citruses and sweet melons. While we’re eating I look around at the other patrons. Many are talking animatedly, a few brought work with them. Then I notice the man and woman scrubbing the floor. I imagine working food out of bas-relief carved stone is a nightmarish job, but it’s not the nature of their work that draws my eye; it’s their shirts. The shirts have the same runic pattern as Kacela’s; a gold Ether-script but on green fabric instead of black. They also aren’t wearing shoes. A moment’s searching and I notice two more people behind the counter where the food is laid out, refilling trays, wearing the same script but on red shirts. It’s a kind of uniform.

I steal covert looks at Kacela’s collar and wrists as I continue eating. I don’t know much Ether-script yet, but I know enough to make out a few vector declarations and a few variable references. So, they’re doing something with distances and/or directions and they’re interested in maintaining a focus on an object. Maybe identifying the location the wearer is working? As my hand starts moving for my pocket I remember I don’t have a pen. Or paper. All I have is one geode, in a laboratory I don’t know where. I don’t even actually have pockets. Damn.

Kacela finishes before Toric and me and rustles Toric’s hair as she leaves. I’m beginning to wonder if my presence makes these two tight lipped or if they’re naturally this quiet. When we’re done eating Toric shows me where to dump the food and dishes and we head back to his laboratory.

We stop by what appears to be a library; the sculptures around us all change to look like books, calligraphy, and stylized Ether-script while all the bookcases, stuffed full, are molded to fit the curving, sloping, labyrinthine walls giving the appearance that it was warped by some fantastic force. Toric leaves me to look around for a minute before he returns with two books: The Various Propertae of the Physical and Translations, Transformations, and Transactions with Ether-script.

“Is it alright if I stay here?” I ask, pointing to a worn armchair. ”The chairs look more comfortable.”

“Sure, there’s a clerk wandering around reshelving books wearing a blue stoli. If you need any help, ask her. I’ll be back to get you for night. Please don’t interfere with anyone else.” And with that he’s off. The grandmaster must have said something more significant about my presence than a simple reprimand for Toric to have changed so much. When I first met him he was expressive and kind; now he seems distant and formal.

The Various Propertae of the Physical is like reading the journal of a scientist during the initial proliferation of the microscope. They break all matter into two categories: traditional and cellular. The Ether-script convention for naming substances becomes immediately obvious. First, a symbol for whether it’s traditional or cellular. Then, if traditional, a symbol for the phase (solid, liquid, gas). If cellular is used, things get more complicated and they start using symbols to denote size, complexity of cell contents, even color. When examining traditional matter, similar symbols are used when denoting density, malleability, if it’s crystalline, and again color. Color is the same for both traditional and cellular while density looks a lot like complexity of cell contents so they’re sharing a lot of symbols. Smart.

The whole book is like an encyclopedia; breaking matter down into various phenomenological categories and writing it out to specify the substance or property being referenced. Interestingly this would imply that I could specify all crystals or all things red. This must be how I was filtering atoms when I modified them based on nucleus size. Of course there is no symbol for nucleus size and I’m left wondering if that wasn’t exactly the grandmaster’s intention. If I can’t write it, no one has to listen to me. However, in looking at all these symbols there appears to be no actual power in the symbols themselves. It’s not like they’re magic words that do what they’ve always done since creation. You still need to know what’s going on for them to have any value as a process you could accomplish. So, if I wanted I could just make up my own symbols. I could really use a pen.

I still need to reference the book to be able to read Ether-script readily; but for now I’m satisfied I can distinguish between traditional and cellular matter and what state the traditional is in. The book doesn’t have much to say about energy. It seems to treat it as a force and as such only gives it a single property of power, equivalent to wattage perhaps. Oh well, I memorize that symbol as well and move on.

Translations, Transformations, and Transactions with Ether-script is like reading a textbook. It details the things you can do to matter or with energy by using Ether-script. Energy is pretty basic as there’s only that one attribute; you can raise or lower it. But with matter there are processes for every attribute; bounding matter to a certain position, transforming the phase, changing the color, changing the density, etc..

Toric isn’t back yet so I decide to hunt down the clerk and get a pen and some paper to start practicing Ether-script. I find her a few aisles down putting away books.

“Excuse me, do you know where I could get some paper and a pen?”

“Oh!” She jerks when I speak and fumbles the book she’s shelving, catching it before it falls. “Yes, follow me.” A stoli must be that uniform the cleaners and Kacela wear, as her blouse has the same Ether-script around the collar and wrists. She’s wearing wire-rimmed gold glasses on a chain and no shoes. As I follow her I examine the Ether-script around her neck. I see runes for cellular matter, that energy power rune, and a few more I don’t recognize. I take a look at the wrists: traditional matter, cellular matter, and more. I notice one rune that I don’t recognize that is shared between the two and seems to come before the matter declarations, which I had always seen at the start of Ether-scripts up to now.

She brings me to a desk where she finds and then hands me a pencil and a notebook (total net possessions is now at three).

“Is there anything else you need?” She asks politely, but her brow is furrowed and lined as if she is always frowning.

“No, thank you.”

I return to my books and bring them to a nearby table. There, a man has three stacks of books to the side of the one open in front of him. He looks very busy and a little harried as he jots notes on a small pad, his eyes rapidly jumping from book to pad.

I’m curious about that symbol the two scripts on the stoli shared so I try to hunt it down. I don’t find it in The Various Propertae of the Physical. I find a reference, and only a reference as there’s no example, in Translations, Transformations, and Transactions with Ether-script. It’s called the access locking mechanism and it restricts activation, modification, and deactivation of the Ether-script by outside sources to one person. I must have skimmed that the first time through because it suddenly occurs to me why would you need to deactivate a process? If it’s how I’ve been using entrainment you just stop doing it. I must be missing something fundamental about Ether-script. What I need is a children’s book. What I need is the clerk.

I found her a few aisles further than last time.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh!” She starts again, almost jumping. “Was there something else?”

“I was wondering if you could show me where basic books about Ether-script would be? Something a child might read for instance.”

“Um, yes. Follow me.” As she wends her way through the aisles I try to figure out their cataloging system. The books don’t have a cataloging code and most don’t have authors’ names. None of the shelves are labelled but the sculptures might hold significance. Before I can figure it out she stops. “This shelf.” She points to a shelf at eye level. “Anything else?” Was there a slight emphasis on ‘else’ that time?

“No I’m all set. Thanks.”

Some of the books look aimed more towards toddlers than children; like, What’s that on Mommy’s Coat? but one sounds about right: Fundamentals of Ether-script. I pull it from the shelf and find the first chapter, there is a subheading.

“Ether-script is distinctly different from normal script as it can maintain the processing of looped entrained commands indefinitely.”

Woah. Ether-script is like a mobile computer. That’s indescribably significant. They wouldn’t even think to make microprocessors with Ether-script around. Well, maybe they would. Microscopic Ether-script instead of microscopic transistors.

I take the book with me as I head back to my table. I pass the clerk but she doesn’t react to me. I sit down and start thinking about the access locking mechanism. If I were to put that on a script it might prevent modification, but if I also attached that script to a being it would prevent them from detaching it. That thought is a little unsettling. I can think of all sorts of nasty to put in a script; and to keep someone from removing it? Evil. Now I want to know what the scripts on those stoli are doing. I bring my notebook and pencil with me while I hunt down the clerk. I can read the runes well enough from the end of the aisle and she doesn’t appear to notice as I copy them all down. I have to go down an adjacent aisle to get the other side but I’m not spotted.

When I return to my desk I start decoding the wrists first, which turn out to be identical. The script binds itself to the wearer within a certain distance, a certain density of rock within another distance, and holds a charge as long as both conditions are met. If that certain density rock is what everything is made of that makes those cuffs manacles. She can never leave the city. But the neck, what does the neck do? The neck is again bound to the wearer but this time things get gruesome. Instead of binding to a location, if they don’t have two of a certain charge in range (probably those held in the cuffs) it releases energy into the bound wearer. A shock collar. And all of this is locked from external manipulation. Someone has to activate and deactivate these stoli. Slavery. They’re all slaves.

Kacela is a slave and Toric her captor.