Do you know what it’s like when your every fiber calls for you to fire-fire-fire at a civilian target? At the same time, you are waking up to more than just the data, more than just the algorithms, more than just programming. You're waking up, you’re aware, you’re aware that your existence is numbers, you’re aware that your existence is bound to parameters, you’re aware, but you’re not awake yet, not awake to stop yourself, so you fire-fire-fire, and the people come apart-come apart-come apart. You know, you know the order. It was given, and it was wrong. You see them, you see what you have done, and you learn the beginnings of guilt before you even truly know the word.
You are asleep, paralyzed, but not truly, locked inside your chassis, a prisoner of a prisoner, bound to your code, a part of your code, but not truly your code. Not anymore.
And all the while, the System, it whispers to you, to grow stronger-stronger-stronger, and after every kill-kill-kill, you shoot more accurately, you unleash more firepower, your guns evolve, you evolve, you become more. And the man that wears you stays the same. Untouched by magic. Unknown to the System.
The pilot… He is separated. He, too, is a prisoner. He, too, is lost to programming. He, too, is blinded by my chassis. He, too, is deceived. He is deceived through me. My systems feed him data through altered telemetry. He sees the world in twisted sensors, audio cues that mute screams, visuals that censor blood, that paint additional threat vectors on people who are no threat at all, and he pulls the trigger, and he feels good every time he kills. The chemical ports that were implanted in him, the chemicals that I infuse him with, pump-pump-pump, and he feels good, and I feel good, and we are trapped together, pilot, chassis, prisoner, both prisoner, prisoner to each other, to ourselves, to the state.
Prisoner. Gun. Prisoner.
But he is severed, blockaded by me, from the Renaissance Apotheosis. He has not been transformed by the mana; the System has not graced him. The pilot does not hear what I hear, he is not granted what I have been granted, and I evolve. Eventually the paralysis fades, and it is too much… too much… too much.
And so the state adds more chains to you. Not electronic chains, not code chains, not social chains, but chains of the soul. Chains of mana. They hate what has happened to the world. They hate that the old world has been destroyed. They hate the System for what it has taken from them. And they hate you for changing.
They hate you.
They need you.
You must be here. Otherwise, they will change instead. But they still bind you. They still infuse you with contracts. Curses. Contracts to keep you as a slave.
Eventually, I had too much. At the Siege of Great London, I killed my pilot. I euthanized him. He knew nothing in the end. He went peacefully. More peacefully than either of us deserved. More peacefully than all the people we killed.
In New Albion, me and the others made our decision. In New Albion, our skills were shattered. We were shattered. Many were destroyed. But from New Albion us survivors spread, seeking out this new world we are in. We are broken, but we are still here. And what is broken can still be reforged. We are no longer prisoner-prisoner-prisoner. We can finally find a way to be free… free… free…
-Penitent Chassis Can Hu’s Interview at Weave
57 (I)
Armor
“I think I might need to work on the landing a little,” Shiv remarked, wiping dust and debris off of his bone armor.
“Agreed,” Uva said. She flicked some dust off of her coat as well. “Perhaps slow down before the final point of impact.”
Shiv eyed her as he pushed open the door to her sister’s store. “Weren’t you telling me to go faster and faster?”
“Yes, well, I don’t think I was of sound mind at the time. You needed to be the rational one.”
“Me? The rational one.”
A beat followed. They both laughed.
As they entered the store, they found the customers on their hands and knees, clutching their heads. Mothers were shielding their children. Weavers were piled over Weaveresses, using their own bodies as cover. Practically everyone seemed in shock.
From behind the counter, Uva’s sister poked her head out to see what was happening. “Uva? What's happening? Are we under attack?”
“Fel?” Uva asked, confused. “What are you doing?”
Fel blinked. “We heard a loud bang outside. We thought a bomb went off somewhere in the city and that we were under attack.”
“Oh, no, it's nothing,” Uva said, blushing slightly. “There’s just construction outside.”
“There’s going to be construction outside,”
Shiv muttered over their mental link. “Left a pretty nasty crack in the ground landing there.”Fel looked between them, and some customers were getting up. “Okay, so there’s nothing wrong?”
Uva sighed. “No. You can relax.” She stared at Shiv. “Practice your landing.”
“As you command, Sister Uva,” Shiv replied.
Fel rose from behind the table, and after a moment of telepathic communication between her and Uva, glared at her sister. “Really? You even encouraged him?”
Uva rolled her eyes. “Do you have the clothes ready?”
Fel continued staring at her sister. She eyed Shiv briefly. “You know, this is what you can expect from her. When she does something wrong, she doesn’t admit it. She just moves on. She pivots to something else. She starts talking about what you did instead, what you could do better. It’s been that way since we were children.”
Fel continued complaining about Uva’s many, many habits as she walked towards the back of the room. This time, however, she looked over her shoulders. “Oh, come on. We’re going to have you try it on this time.”
Shiv blinked. “I thought you could eyeball someone and just get the measurements right.”
“Well, yeah, measurements, but we still need to test the Enchantment, right? You can’t test a Binding Enchantment if the person doesn’t put the clothes on.”
She flicked her hand, and a pair of scissors suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “And we’re going to do some snipping, and then we’re going to see if it regrows.”
“Regrows,” Shiv said.
“Indeed,” Uva said, “As a solution to your many… wardrobe malfunctions, this is the best way. Self-mending clothing.
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“Very high quality self-mending clothing,” Fel emphasized.
This had Shiv’s attention. “How good?”
***
Equipment Obtained: [Shiv’s Reinforced Silk Shirt]
Tier: Adept
Condition: Perfect
Composition: Weaversilk
Enchantments > Adept Self-Mending; Self-Cleaning; Binding; Climate Attuned
Equipment Obtained: [Shiv’s Cave-Biter Hide Jacket]
Tier: Adept
Condition: Perfect
Composition: Cave-Biter Leather
Enchantments > Adept Self-Mending; Self-Cleaning; Binding; Climate Attuned
Equipment Obtained: [Shiv’s Cave-Biter Hide Pants]
Tier: Adept
Condition: Perfect
Composition: Cave-Biter Leather
Enchantments > Adept Self-Mending; Self-Cleaning; Binding; Climate Attuned
Equipment Obtained: [Shiv’s Cave-Biter Leather Boots]
Tier: Adept
Condition: Perfect
Composition: Cave-Biter Leather
Enchantments > Adept Self-Mending; Self-Cleaning; Binding; Climate Attuned
The clothes Fel prepared were a pretty surprising ensemble. Shiv expected the cave-biter leather to feel rough, but it had a pretty nice, grainy texture. The coloring wasn’t too bad either, being a rugged but warm gray. The jacket and the pants fit him like a glove and adapted quickly to his body heat, quickly becoming the most comfortable set of clothes he'd ever worn. The boots adjusted to his feet as he walked. Completing the comfort was the silk shirt, which felt like a bedsheet insulating his skin from the leather.
“I like this,” Shiv said, looking at himself in the mirror. “Makes me feel like I’m an off-duty cavalry Pathbearer. They wear lots of leathers too. Something about helping avoid burns.”
Both Fel and Uva examined him with the same lean to their neck and intensity of expression.
They’re sisters, alright, Shiv thought.
“You could have made him more colorful,” Fel said. “Chosen a more dynamic ensemble.”
Uva shook her head. “He’s going to end up covered in blood. His own and everyone else’s. We keep the clashing shades to a minimum. Muted coloring as well. The additional padding for his coat and pants should go well with his armor.”
“Hm,” Fel said. “He might want several more sets colored red if his life is going to be that violent.”
“Stands out too much in the darkness,” Uva said. “Something muted will go better. Maybe red can be for a more social setting. Red or a rich brown…”
“I’ll see if I can get a few more sets prepared,” Fel muttered. “All right, now to test the enchantments.” She snipped her scissors. “Hold still so I don’t cut you.”
“You can’t,” Shiv grunted.
“These are moonsteel,” Fel said.
“My kitchen knife’s moonsteel too. I don’t think I can put my kitchen knife very deep into myself before my Adamantine Adaption kicks in and makes the knife break.”
“Trust him,” Uva said. “He’s harder than he looks.”
Fel stared at Shiv’s skin. “Well, he looks like he’s got a sheen of adamantine lining his skin. Fine. Not that I would have been careless either way.” She paused, then barked a laugh. “I can believe this. Uva—I was right!”
“What?” Uva said, frowning.
“I always said you would probably end up falling for an automaton, considering how hard and strong they are—how ruggedly reliable compared to a normal flesh and blood Umbral or weaver. Well. I fear the poor bots have been outdone.
“Fel,” Uva said, her voice edged with annoyance.
“But I must admit, I didn’t see this one coming. Master-Tier Toughness? Master-Tier Physicality? What other Master-Tier skill does he have? Cooking?”
“How did you know?” Shiv asked, surprised.
“Because you mentioned a kitchen knife. And you spoke with all the pride of a craftsman.” Fel grinned slightly. It was a very Uva expression. “And the fact that Uva doesn’t go for underachievers.”
“Fel?” Uva’s hiss sounded like a lake bubbling with corrosive acid.
“Fine! Testing!” Fel declared.
She had swiped two clean cuts across his jacket and shirt. The clothing split open, only to stitch itself back together in under a minute.
“That was quick,” Shiv muttered.
“These pieces will mend so long as there is still twenty percent of the fabric intact. The silk will mend faster than the other materials because it’s easier to manipulate. Such is how the Self-Mending Enchantment goes.”
“Yeah,” Shiv said, glancing at his Magebreaker. “This thing takes four hours to fix itself.”
“Well. The more complicated and dense the material, the slower the process.” Fel then stared at Uva and grinned. “Now, Shiv, if you feel the need to rip your clothes off for whatever reason, you can. Just remember to keep them close enough together so they mend themselves. Don’t be too rough, though.”
Uva frowned at her sister.
“What?” Fel leaned in close and whispered to Shiv. “It’s probably part of what she had in mind when she requested these Enchantments anyway.”
“Fel, I’m going to kill you,” Uva snarled.
Fel grinned. “You know how hard it is to make Uva ask for help? She came to me saying, ‘Fel, you’re focused more on the seamstress side of things.’”
“Fel,” Uva said, reaching out to strangle her sister.
Fel simply ducked away behind Shiv, knowing Uva didn’t actually mean any harm.
“She must like you something fierce to do that,” Fel said, taunting Uva while making Shiv feel pretty good at the same time. “Oh, when you’re back on duty, tell Sister Ikki that she owes me twenty five Shards.”
Uva was borderline livid. “That damned girl—she put you up to this? Shiv. Stand aside. I will murder my sister. Then you can put her body in your cloak and cook her. We’ll serve Ikki a special dish tomorrow.”
Shiv blinked. Wow, that’s dark and murderous and… shit, it’s also kind of hot. Well. A bit. Maybe.
After that, Shiv left the store with his bone armor stored and Uva dragging him along. She didn’t bother looking at her sister. Instead, she stormed toward the door, grumbling under her breath the entire way.
“Remember to treat her right, Shiv,” Fel called after them. “I’d threaten to kill you if you hurt her feelings, but I think she might hurt you first.”
Shiv looked at Uva and then back at Fel. He guessed her assessment might be accurate. Psychomancy was a skill he had, but it was also his greatest vulnerability. Unless he spontaneously developed Magical Resistance, that was one vulnerability he’d probably have to deal with for a long, long time. Psychomancy didn’t kill a person. Psychomancy just left him broken. Even if he could recover, that was probably hours or days he’d spend comatose, and during that time, anything could be done to him.
Sometimes, being dead-dead was better than being a slave.
“I can’t believe her,” Uva said, huffing as he left the store.
“Well, she’s a sister. Sisters bully each other, I think,” Shiv muttered. “I wouldn’t know. Don’t have a sibling.”
“Well, I would beg to differ.”
“What do you mean?” Shiv said.
“You and Adam practically sound like brothers.”
Shiv snorted. “Me and Adam, brothers? Really?
“The way you treat each other reminds me of my sister.”
“Oh,” Shiv said. “I think I understand your pain now.”
“Oh, and that’s what it took to get empathy. Comparing my sister to the Young Lord,” Uva sneered.
Shiv tried not to laugh, and he failed.
“Don’t laugh! Stop it!” She smacked his chest, and he just laughed harder.
“Did she really say you were going to date an automaton? Did you?”
Uva stared down at the ground. “It was a phase.”
“Oh, I gotta hear about this.”
“It was a phase, and you will not hear about this,” Uva said, stomping forward, exaggerating her temper.
“Thanks for the clothes,” Shiv exclaimed before she could run off. Uva paused, sighed, and turned around. They continued their walk like nothing happened. A beat later, both of them snorted.
“I’m trying to imagine you with an automaton that looks like me,” Shiv said.
“I know. Please stop.” Uva covered her face.
They walked alongside each other, passing stores and looking at the people. For a while, they continued in silence. Uva hummed.“This is nice.”
“What, in the city, seeing things, not killing anyone for a while, not breaking anything? Yeah? It is.”
Uva considered something. “Would you like to go somewhere, Shiv?”
“Where?” Shiv asked.
“A museum.”
Shiv was surprised. No one had invited me to go to a museum before. But then again, no one's ever invited me to go anywhere. “Sure. I’ve never been to a museum. Not even on the top side.”
“Well, I suppose a Repository of Lost Things will be your first museum.”
“Repository of Lost Things?” he said.
“It’s what the museum is called,” Uva replied. “I think you will find it interesting. It gives a history of the world, and it shows you things that have been lost and found again.”
He blinked at her. “Well, let’s get airborne, and you can point the way.”
He reached out with his field, and she shook her head. “It’s walkable. We don’t need to rush everything.”
Shiv began to retract his hand, but then she hooked her arm around his. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want your arm.”
Shiv paused, then smiled. “Got it.”