The Library

a recounting from Bel ben Hikbajlí kcúmruş

The library was now only three quadrants northwards. She bent down, quickly applying pressure to her severed arm. The dripping of black somatic fluid soon dissipated. Some twenty stories down, a kilometer away or so, a structure had collapsed in a convenient manner, forming a bridge over the deep chasm which separates this, from the next quadrant. A wave of visual aberrations alerted her to the desperate state of her left arm, which had been severed below the elbow. As long as the damaged forearm-module is attached it will continue to leak. She sat down, picked up a slender piece of metal and began unscrewing, with great effort and frustration, the screws holding her forearm in place. A great torrent of somatic fluid spewed out as the broken module fell to the ground. She tightened the valve that had supplied her arm with the vital fluid, as to not pass out on the spot. The toll of the lo-st vital fluid weighed heavy on her senses. Her legs suddenly gave way as she tried to depart, her eyes' output scrambled, only giving nauseating hallucinatory images to her psyche. As she laid collapsed on the ground, her head resting on a pile of wires, she slowly reached for a container in her belt. With her legs, she held the container in place as she screwed the lid open with the only hand she had left. The sight of the brown calorie-rich liquid made her grateful that she had not chosen a gastric intake with taste-functionality. Despite her body being made of mainly metal and silicone, the mechanical gastric system which powers her body still needs organic matter to function. As she lay there on the ground, another wave of sensory hallucinations hit, sending her into a deep sleep.

Her eyes opened slowly, then quickly shut as a near ontological feeling of disorientation set in. The very definition of her being was that of confusion - the feeling of continuously being flung out in an endless void, endless false motion in various directions. Downwards was far above the worst, a sensation of being sucked into the ground, falling ever downwards into an abyss. She shifted onto her side to flee the void. The few thoughts that could be cobbled together surmounted only to regret at being sentient, she could only grasp at the ground, trying to avoid sinking into it. The light of the moon, cold but stable, finally woke her from the chaos of the previous hours of pain. She sat up, gathered her scattered belongings, took one last look at the distant bridge and then set off, on unsteady legs, downwards into the omnipresent mega structure.

Occasional streaks of moonlight illuminated the vast halls, corridors and stairways - never actually shedding light on the purpose of said spaces. She had long ago, among most of her kind, stopped trying to piece together what the mega structure is meant to be, to hold, to represent. It is a seemingly random assortment of rooms glued together with no concept of practicality. Machinery, if you can call it that, is also abundant. Though, does not a ma-chine also need purpose and practicality, a function, for it to be a machine? The "machines" of the mega structure are as nonsensically put together as the rooms and halls. Individual components are sometimes functional, and it has even happened that an apparatus that does "something" appears by pure chance. Since most of her body parts are modified scavenged parts from such "machines"she knew to be on the lookout for anything that could replace her arm. Those slavers almost got her back there. If she had not severed her arm she would have become nothing more than a machine, an apparatus, a 'Somatoi' - a being reduced to nothing but instrumental function. Being able to replace body parts on a whim is certainly an advantage most of the time, the ancient "humans",creatures of a biological makeup who were sentient just like synths like her, often complained about the weakness of the flesh. But being infinitely malleable also opens up other weaknesses.

Our, so far, non-enslaved synth thought back to a conversation she had with an ex-Somatoi. They had been refashioned into to a drone for mining, all of their sentience used only for locating valuable materials for the benefit of slavers. Being violated like that left deep scars in this individual. This is why she had to escape those slavers, at any cost. Complete annihilation would be preferable to eternal psychological imprisonment and torture. Her reminiscing was interrupted by a figure in the distance, a tall slender figure, cloaked in long tattered gray cloth. She was unsure if she had been spotted yet so she quickly stepped away from the opening leading to the hallway in which the figure stood.

???
Do not be afraid, I am merely a monk on my travels...

They had a deep voice with a soothing cadence. She stepped into the hallway, ready to fight if necessary. Taking a closer look at their head, she noticed they had no sculpted face, in fact their whole Soma was very minimalistic,which aligned with previous monks she had met.

???
I am called Bel, who might you be?

She hesitated for a moment, but eventually replied:

Jásna
I'm Jásna, I'm traveling north...

Bel
What a relief! Are you headed to the Library, perchance?

Their mannerisms, speech and the fact that they were going to the Library suggested that they were indeed a monk, and not some kind of slaver's bait.

Jásna
Yes...

Jásna was quite uncomfortable, she had never been good at speaking with strangers, it was especially difficult just after the run-in with the slavers. No matter how she twisted and turned on the dilemma, she knew she didn't really have anything to loose by traveling with a companion. On the contrary it would most likely be a safer alternative than going alone with only one arm.

Jásna
You need help getting to the library?

Bel
Yes, you would be of great help! Can I return the favor somehow?

Jásna stammered for a while, not having the nerves to actually ask for anything.

Bel
I do not want to prod where I am not welcome but could you maybe use a new arm-module?

Jásna
Yes, that would be nice, do you have a spare or something?

Bel
Us monks have a great reputation with the villages in this area. If we find one I can probably get you one for free... or at least at a greatly reduced price!

Jásna
Sounds good, the way you came in should be the quickest route.

She knew that if the monk, "Bel", turned out to be bad news, she could easily slink away in one of the many halls and tunnels. The pair continued towards the outcropping which would act as their bridge to the next quadrant. Step by step, with an awkward mist in the air, Jásna and Bel eventually arrived at the precariously balanced structure. She entered the hollow skeleton, nauseuos and unstable.

Bel
Hey, are you doing alright?

Jásna
I'm OK, my arm is just messing with me. I lost quite a bit of somatic fluid earlier.

Bel