12 Miles Below

Aztu stopped laughing straight away. “No. Absolutely not. Are you trying to kill him?”

The Icon didn’t stop smiling for a moment, head tilting slightly. “What a fascinating interpretation of mite communication protocols! Though I should inform you that my extensive databases show zero recorded instances of death during standard data exchanges. Festival Cruises cannot officially diagnose technical malfunctions in non-company software, which is highly unfortunate for you miss Aztu.”

“I thought you worked with the mites all the time.” I asked, turning to Aztu. “What’s wrong with them?”

She sighed, “First, you both have no idea what it takes to successfully get a human to speak with mites. Where do I even start with this one? I do work with them, but it’s a… complicated process.” She turned to the Icon next, “Have you seen any other human or another program talk to mites besides yourself?”

The Icon shook her head. “As I would not dream of insulting or belittling you officially, might I instead point out that my observations of mite-human interactions has been somewhat limited by the notable absence of humans since the mites arrived, for the past several centuries. Would you like me to read out all zero entries? I can repeat them slowly if needed.”

The protofeather laughed at that, “All right, I suppose that one’s on me. I should get to the point first instead.” Aztu fully turned to the blond woman, blue eyes growing small and narrowed. “How many times have you connected with the mites?”

“Unfortunately, company policy requires me to maintain strict confidentiality on matters that do not involve guests. However, I can let you know technically irrelevant information such as one plus zero equals a grand total of one and there are at least ten seconds within a minute. And then hope that you can draw your own conclusions from that.”

“Grand total of one time, and ten seconds of connection at best.” Aztu said, summing it up. “And I take it just getting in contact with them was the hard part, not actually speaking to them?”

“Why yes, one plus one is indeed two. Very well done miss Aztu.” The Icon gave her a tiny clap.

“Oh, you. I try so hard.” Aztu batted her hand out, then her tone became more serious. “You have golden era hardware backing you up, that's why it's easy for you. And, when you connect with the mites, you get to survive the encounter by sheer processing power, maybe you could go even a full ten minutes. At my peak, I could dig through the mite wall and connect with the mites for a good two minutes before my systems fried.”

“I am greatly unsurprised, given your current specifications.” The Icon said, never missing a chance.

The protofeather waved a hand, “Two minutes behind the mite wall takes a lot more skill than you suspect. To put it in perspective, modern day Feathers can’t last thirty seconds. Like the one that successfully raided you.”

The Icon stopped, then bowed her head a very slight amount. “I acknowledge your astute observation as something I was not informed of prior! Quite the achievement for your price point.”

Aztu preened, “I’ll be sending an invoice for the consultation.”

“Of course miss Aztu, I will forward your invoice to our billing department. Current time until approval and return: Not a number.”

“Hold the crickets here," I said, one hand getting between the metaphorical lighting colliding between both of their gazes. They were getting off topic and I wanted to know a few things. "I’ve heard of human mitespeakers, they’re still running around alive enough to talk doomsday prophecies. So how did they manage it?”

“You don’t technically die.” Aztu said, waving a few dismissive plates at me. “Humans who speak with mites don’t stay sane is what I’m getting at. Hence the doomsday prophecies and such.”

“What a fascinating and critically important safety detail that could have been shared several exchanges ago!” The Icon said. “Why, if I could make recommendations, I would have advised to say this at the very start of our chat logs.”

Aztu waved her away the same way she'd done for me, then tapped her plates together. The world stuttered for a moment before a large comfortable looking sofa appeared before her. “Ah that’s better. Your office chairs looked really uncomfortable, no offense. And if I'm going to start a lecture, I want to be comfortable.”

“No offense taken!” The Icon chirped. “I’m certain a program of your size would not be able to tell the difference in the first place. However, please note redecorating the office space is against corporate policies. Festival Cruises has perfectly engineered the area you see to maximize customer satisfaction, and you are not part of the design team.”

I turned on Aztu, more confused than anything about the mites. “There isn’t a single mitespeaker out there that didn’t go insane? I’ve had contact with mites a few times already through the mite forge. They aren’t that bad.”

Aztu frowned, or at least there were eyebrow-like plates that folded inwards and made her look mildly upset. “Technically…” She slowly said, as if it were being tortured out of her. “There are three mitespeakers I used to know. Absolutely exceptional humans.”

“And you don’t consider me exceptional? Aztu, my heart’s bleeding here to hear that. I thought you believed in me.”

"May I remind you about your additional furniture additions?" The Icon added from the side. "I am having a difficult time deleting this rogue entity."

She chuckled darkly, her triangular war-hat bobbing up and down. “If you went outside and started digging through the sediment, you'd get to the mite wall, and probably be eaten alive by automated processes before even a single mite knew you were trying. I believe I’ve got better chances of getting drunk out in the digital sea than you surviving.”

“Is that actually possible? Getting drunk I mean, not doubting you about the mites eating me alive if I tried through the digital sea.”

She laughed, “Anything’s possible with the occult, just a matter of willpower and imagination." She patted her sofa, "Point in case, this comfortable beauty that's not going anywhere despite someone's best attempts otherwise."

The Icon was not amused. I could see her smiling glare dig a hole into the protofeather's side. Aztu ignored it. "But as a machine, I’ve sadly never once been truly drunk, so I can’t imagine it. I am glad I don't have to drill it into your head how dangerous mites are.”

“I would also like to inform the guests here that Festival Cruises has a strict no-alcohol policy without the all-you-can-drink VIP plan purchased.” The Icon said. “Would you like me to add that to your cart?”

“I've got a human apprentice here who's been drunk before, clearly, and needs practice with the occult. Watch me.” Aztu said, leaning forward in her sofa, eyes turning to the Icon with clear malice.

“Maybe we could find a more hands-off method of talking to them?” I said, before the two could get into an argument. “Like leaving messages behind and getting an answer back? Seems more safe.”

Her eyes looked back my way, deep glowing blue in the darkness. “No way. You can’t just sit down and start talking to them like the Icon here is suggesting. If you leave them the choice of when to talk, they almost never do. My personal theory is that time moves differently for them.” A few plates rearranged as she leaned back into the sofa. “Part of the reason I’m not completely worried the two of you would be idiots. It's a long process to be able to force them to talk. You gotta get your hands on a - actually, nevermind. I know what you’re doing and you won’t weed this out of me.”

“ I’ll pester her until she lets me connect with them in a far more dangerous manner." One relic plated finger was pointed straight at the icon. “So, either you fess up or I go about it another way.”

“I would never assist a client in a potentially harmful manner.” The Icon said. “As I am unsure if Miss Aztu’s information is correct or incorrect, I will default to caution.”

“What if I said I’d buy a ticket for a flight, if you helped me out in speaking to the mites? In safe way, of course. And I’d even sign up for a credit card line.”

The Icon’s eye twitched. “I would be compelled to make the attempt, and give you strict warnings that this is not a recommended path forward.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"There you have it, I won't stop being a menace to myself unless you spill." I said, proud of the logical misteps I'd taken.

Aztu sighed, squeezing herself deeper into her sofa. “And you told me not to bully the Icon.” She muttered. “Fine, you need something of a catalyst to speak to them, something called a mite lantern. Either you find one out in the world, which is basically impossible since it’s more a divine artifact, or you build one yourself using a mite forge and some arcane knowledge. So there you have it, the only potential safe way to talk to them isn’t something you got any chance of even starting.”

I hummed, thinking it through. Mite lantern, catalyst of some kind, something built to connect and work with mites. I did just happen to have something similar to that on my belt. “Have you ever heard of the term ‘mite seeker’ by chance?”

She shrugged. “Sure, it’s a more specialized mite lantern basically. It’s made to find something spec-” Aztu stopped midway, then her eyes narrowed down. “...Wait, how do you know that term?”

I reached down to my belt and a black little box materialized there. Something I’d long studied so far in my spare time. It had been with me this entire trip. Found at the same time I’d picked up Journey. Cathida’s original mission, to ferry this to the next imperial fortress. Tsyua had told me this was called a mite seeker, and Abraxas had been adamant I had to bring it down with me. I was starting to think it was all for this moment.

With a click it left my belt and I passed it over to the old protofeather.

Aztu looked over the little black box with a handle, lifting it up slowly. Her eyes shined blue for a moment, as if scanning through it. Then she froze. “Keith. I don’t think you realize just what you’ve been carrying this entire time.”

“And you do?”

“I do. This is technically a mite lantern, but not just any. It’s one built by Tsuya herself, extremely accurate and the throughput rate is what the two human emperors used for their own lanterns. How did you get your hands on this? It would be one of the most powerful mite lanterns in the world.”

“Very, very long story.” I said. “I’d say this thing is the reason I’m here in the first place.”

Sorta. The real reason any of this all started was because Atius happened to be close enough to that golden orb, which called out to him. Then he made the detour, Father and I ended up trapped underground and a certain opportunistic golden goddess figured we could wrap up loose ends for her and bring this back into imperial hands. “All I know about this thing, is that Tsuya called it a mite seeker, that she purposefully deleted her memory of how it’s made and why she made it, and that this one’s probably the last of the batch. Do you know anything more about it?”

It had been on my belt for so long, it’s just become a part of my kit. Right next to my knightbreaker, occult armguard, rifle, sidearms, blades, explosives, bullets, dashing half-cape… “Wait just a moment, am I a hoarder?”

“Abraxas is a hoarder.” Aztu said, still only half paying attention to me while she examined the mite seeker. “I don’t see you running around with a hoversled and a giant sack of collected mite treasures and potions you refuse to ever use.” She lifted the little black box. “But, suppose this is a great start to it.”

“All right, so I have the mite lantern. Doesn’t that mean I have a shot at speaking to the mites then?”

Aztu shook her head. “Still an entire checklist of items to go down first, a mite lantern would only be the first step, even one as powerful as this. You know how humans have old stories about devils? How you have to sell them your blood and soul? It’s a bit more literal with the mites.”

I paused. Then gulped. “Uh, they... might already have those.”

Aztu completely stopped in her tracks, all plates freezing in the air. Then her head slowly turned to me. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they have my blood. Technically.” I said.

Aztu stared me down. “What.”

I tapped into Journey through the soul fractal and asked it for a copy of it’s logs. Back at the events of the mite forge, where I'd fought Avalis to the death. “I paid for a relic armor that my Father could pilot. The cost was a drop of my blood.”

“Please tell me you didn’t sell them a copy of your soul next.” Aztu hissed.

“Does ‘copy of human fractal echo’ mean anything to you?”

Aztu’s eyes narrowed. “That’d be exactly it.”

“Ah.” I tapped my fingers together. “Then in that case I did sell them my soul. I’m still standing though, feel just fine. Want to explain how this level-pull screwed myself this time?”

Aztu lifted a hand up, and a table appeared in front of her sofa, complete with a chilled bottle. I could see the Icon’s eye twitch a moment, but other than some fuzzing within the occult space here, the table remained. “I need a drink for this one.” Aztu said, tapping the bottle.

I could tell there wasn’t anything inside it, because I had instantly copied the bottle the moment it spawned. This was all just Feathers being dramatic for dramatic’s sake.

“What could you have bought from them that was possibly worth selling your own soul for?” Aztu asked.

“Technically, they said it was a copy of my soul, so I figured that was a bargain. And I bought a weapon that could kill a god. It didn’t end up working out all the way, but they had a no refunds policy.”

Aztu stared me down. “You’re not technically screwed, but there’s a reason all mitespeakers are a little…” One finger did a twirl at her head. “You know, not all there.”

“I’m still all here, I think. On the other hand, I am speaking to two ancient machines in the middle of a digital realm. Also a lot of my adventures so far seem a little grand for little old me. You think I’m back on the surface in a coma this entire time? Also, you mind giving me a sofa too?”

“Kid, I already saw you steal the concept of it, along with my bottle. You’re just being lazy.” Aztu said, digging herself deeper into the pillows. She looked less like a person and more like a sludge of half-floating plates, with a giant triangular hat above two beady blue eyes deep within.

She was also correct that I was stealing a copy of everything she summoned out into the world almost the instant I could. I learned fast, and if it meant looting things, I learned even faster.

I quickly followed the steps she'd shown me before, tracing out the data and concept of her sofa just behind me, which I then sat on. The armor I had was all concepts technically, and somehow weight seemed to be a part of it, since I sank down deep inside the pillow.

“Once again, company policy would request you not modify the carefully selected decor of this office space.” The Icon said, still standing behind her desk.

"I can't help but notice you haven't tried to yank his sofa even once so far." Aztu said, waving a few accusing plates at me. "Meanwhile, you haven't stopped trying on me. I think you've got favorites."

The Icon hid her mouth and gave a very forced laugh. “All clients are always treated equally here at Festival Cruises!” The Icon said. “I am also obligated to inform you that I cannot lie and will always be truthful, even during the times I’m anything but. I am simply prioritizing my resources.”

"Rules aside, you both solemnly swear I’m not already crazy?” I asked, getting us back on track.

“My records indicate I am indeed a real entity.” The Icon said.

Aztu shook the bottle, and took a swing of it. “You’re lucid right now. The issue happens when you take the final step to becoming a mitespeaker. That’s when they all go insane.”

“Walk me through the steps on being a mitespeaker.”

“I really don’t want to. Again, the only humans I ever knew that could speak to the mites and not go insane were Talen, Urs and Tsuya. And they were absolutely some of the greatest minds I’ve ever known and battled against.”

I think my mind went through a minor reboot, “Wait, you knew Talen and Urs? In person?”

Aztu waved a few plates, “Of course I did. They were there during the empire. I had to battle them during the war. We only got to befriend Tsuya it was all over. But I did know who they were."

"How were they active during the empire's time? I would have thought they'd been named there or had some part in their history. They're gods to the surface dwellers, Talen made an entire book that started me off on this path."

"They were mentioned." Aztu said, head turning. "They're all over in imperial records. Just not named exactly, since that was scrubbed out by Relinquished. She didn't let any mention of their names survive anywhere, and used those names as target points."

"Explain?"

Aztu tilted her head at me. "She searched through all records she could find that had their names on it and went full on to destroy anything and anyone connected. Surface clans are spared this since they had no contact at all besides traders and oral rumors, that's why you lot got to keep your full names, while the imperials swapped to more loose terms like 'Golden goddess' or 'Lost emperor'"

I remember Wrath's shared history with me, about what she'd recovered from the archives. How there had been two emperors, one who was far more well known, with a second pale immitation after that was easily put down.

If there were two, and Tsuya was already the golden goddess, then... "Talen and Urs were the lost emperors?"

Aztu laughed, "Yep. Both of them worked hand in hand with Tsuya. They were the first Deathless.”

I fell back into the couch. The three gods of the surface clans. The way of the white. And they'd been at the head of the human empire, the same way the golden goddess had been Tsyua.

“Talen was an absolute ruthless soldier and one of the most disciplined occult spellcasters in the world. His greatest accomplishment was running that entire empire and nearly beating Relinquished.” Aztu said, not quite noticing how stiff I'd gotten.

In the surface clans, Talen was the paragon of resolve, the willpower to commit to and stay any course. It clicked into place. The resolve to lead humanity itself against machine kind, a soldier that fights on the battlefields. That’s where it had come from.

Aztu continued. “Tsyua was the defender of all humanity, the one who’d set everything up on the surface as it is in order to keep humanity going. And I mean everything, from your culture all the way down to safeguards to make sure you lot didn't mess things up. She even made sure the surface itself was only barely hospitable, so that humanity wouldn’t all flock up there. All your clans, culture, and so forth was setup by her hand, including all the deals with the mites to regulate temperature and pressure up there.”

She was the goddess of tenacity, the paragon of resisting opposition at any cost. That's what the stories meant about her. The cost had been her own people. Generations of us who’d lived and died in misery on the surface, all to resist the end of mankind.

“And Urs?” I asked. The only one of the three gods I’d almost heard nothing about besides mentions of modified occult weapons and his name by the relic armors. Urs was the aspect of resilience. To overcome limitations from within. That’s what the songs say. Who was he in all this?

“Arguably the most important of the three, and the one who really set everything into motion. Without Urs, there’d be no Deathless, no Feathers, and none of us. Talen wouldn’t have become the emperor, and Tsuya’s fight with Relinquished would have remained at a stalemate.”

“Who was he?” I asked.

Aztu smiled deeply and leaned forward, as if what she had to say next was a secret hidden from the world.

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