Chapter 68

Some weeks after what had now been revealed to be my two-month integration period ended, I was finally relieved of the obligation to personally perform every menial task I could possibly be assigned to Xafsa's personal aide.

Cleaning treatment chambers.

Sorting biological remnants.

Auditing instruments.

Guiding employees through procedures they already ought to have known.

Necessary work.

Allegedly educational work.

Work I was nonetheless content to delegate once Xafsa determined I understood how it all functioned.

My overdevelopment safety margin had also returned to its appropriate size.

Not large enough for a month straight of [Ambition]-fueled [Cultivation].

Significant enough that I could once again pursue both deliberate and involuntary [Cultivation]s without treating every useful piece of [Insight]s being assimilated to my growing [Comprehension]s as an unwanted expense.

Naturally, that was when Xafsa removed me from my routine.

"The Everwell Realm renewed into a utopian variant," it informed me after our final procedure of the period.

I... wasn't sure what that meant.

And [Guided], surprisingly, similarly wasn't sure.

So I asked, "What's a utopian variant?"

Its sensory filaments meticulously turned my way.

"This topic should have been included in your studies. It is my oversight. The Everwell Realm is simply such a foundational study in this Sector that I somehow skipped over it. Please rectify that as soon as possible, preferably right now, as our departure is due this instant."

"I don't think that's possible, my dear mentor," [Guided] caught onto the sarcastic nuance and made me answer.

"But I do have an alternative stopgap solution that could solve this conundrum... What's a utopian variant?" I repeated my initial while keeping my facial muscles absolutely still.

Xafsa's filaments as if fluttered for a moment before it abruptly started speaking, "A utopian variant, in the context of the Everwell Realm..."

Like that, though it remained a stopgap solution as I would still have to eventually delve into the massive manuscripts and manuals available on the Everwell Prime Realm, it started expounding on this topic I had yet to develop an acceptable [Comprehension] of.

According to Xafsa, in more summarized detail than I really liked, utopian variants were renewed environments whose valuable resources regenerated, reproduced, or accumulated so rapidly that the usual exponential danger caused by excessive extraction rose much more slowly than expected.

And while it was never truly harmless to extract more resources than could be given back as the Everwell Realm remained the Everwell Realm...

During the short twelve-day period in which a renewing gave rise to a utopian variant, with some special rules put in place for all delvers, it was possible for Civilization to exploit the Everwell Realm far more aggressively than during other renewal variants.

As such, during this period, delving and harvesting teams continuously entered and exited in numbers that would otherwise have been suicidal, as keeping track of when the harvesting limits were crossed was nearly impossible.

And the aftermath of such aggressive exploitation, after merchants gathered to purchase whatever every delving team returned with and organizations displayed their influence to buy the "juiciest" bits...

It was something called a festival, organized by an organization named Utopia, who wound up organizing all manner of celebrations around the surplus.

And amidst all that, the Pulse Of Eternity received a percentage of all proceedings in exchange for dispatching additional healing personnel and taking care of handling all the predictable health deterioration consequences from this manner of event.

Truly... Civilization and its underlying ever-hungry web of interests at its finest.

Mere hours following this explanation, we both departed alongside a small group from our Pulse Tower.

This time, however, rather than flying for weeks through the peripheral districts, weaving between towers joining the upper and lower Stratas, I got to experience traveling the correct way.

By train.

As it turned out, this transportation device I only ever read about accompanied by incomprehensible illustrations waited a mere few kilometers beneath the surface, inside a vast tunnel network reinforced with pale stone, metal arches, and enough intertwined pipes to supply several Red Sand settlements.

At first, I mistook the long sequence of enclosed compartments joined together upon parallel rails, each one large enough to contain hundreds of people, for another eccentric sort of building.

But then the situation and circumstances forced my horizon to expand.

Massive doors opened along its sides.

Hundreds, thousands of passengers entered.

Then, once the Pulse group I was part of had entered inside, the doors sealed and the entire structure began moving without any obvious source of power I could isolate through my [Awareness].

"How does it move?" I asked.

"Heat. Pressure. Combustible materials. Flowing water. Stored mechanical force," Xafsa answered, "Whatever the local infrastructure was designed to consume and is most cost-efficient, really. The train's [Ether] systems translate anything into motion."

I literally felt my curiosity soar as my [Harmony] and [Clarity] pushed back to keep my mind in perfect order.

"How?" was the single-word question I raised to release all my excess pent-up curiosity.

"Through [Engineering] and [Ether] [Knowledge] that you are wholly unqualified to understand."

That...

Only made it more interesting.

As the train accelerated through tunnels filled with seemingly nothing but [Darkness] only broken by sparse lights, I spent most of the journey extending my [Awareness].

Regrettably, whatever I successfully glimpsed whenever the train slowed down sufficiently hardly made any sense, be they junctions, stops, various chambers, other trains, or mechanisms whose purpose I couldn't begin to determine.

Six or so hours and an immeasurably vast distance worth weeks of travel at my own leisure flight speed later, the Pulse group finally got ready to exit.

From what I understood, we had reached the closest train destination to the location of the festival.

As the crowd was so dense and included so many other flyers than me, I didn't bother taking off and simply nested comfortably on one of the massive luggage—a weird boxy wheeled backpack made of rigid materials—our group was safeguarding.

The stairs, just like how they were when we initially descended to the level where the train network was constructed, were endless, with hundreds upon hundreds of junctions with signs pointing everywhere and people going in all directions.

It took us half an hour to finally emerge back onto the surface.

But finally...

Everwell Prime.

Not a border settlement.

Not a peripheral district.

Everwell Prime, in all its glory that instantly displaced every previous standard I possessed of Civilization.

There had already been hints from the exquisitely detailed construction of the stairs and corridors we ascended through the station...

But it was really only when I finally emerged into a space so vast that calling it a street felt inadequate that I beheld what Civilization built around a Prime Realm looked like.

Lights everywhere.

Fixed to walls.

Suspended between towers.

Embedded beneath transparent walkways.

Floating freely in the air.

Some illuminated entire districts.

Others formed symbols, directions, advertisements, or patterns that changed as people passed beneath them, their colors ranging across wavelengths my eyes could barely perceive the nuances of.

Beyond them rose towers.

Not scattered landmarks.

Everywhere.

No structures didn't extend from the ground to the ceiling, and all appeared built from materials that appeared too solid, clean, or elaborate to have ever existed naturally.

Their facades were crossed by perfectly transparent windows.

Through them, I glimpsed furnished rooms, suspended gardens, workshops, residences, and halls illuminated by yet more complex arrangements of light.

Even the architecture I had admired throughout the periphery districts now appeared ordinary by comparison.

And the people matched it.

Everywhere I looked...

Humanoids walking on two legs.

Quadrupeds strolling on four.

Avians gliding.

Serpentine slithering.

Crystalloids moving with synchronous grace.

Lithoids lumbering one massive limb after another.

Plantoids rooted into mobile frames.

They all wore every manner of fabric, armor, ornament, and body covering that I could never have imagined and beyond.

Most traveled on foot.

Many flew.

Still others occupied individual vehicles that moved upon wheels, rails, articulated limbs, or methods I failed to identify.

The traffic was so dense that any single major intersection I sighted seemed capable of containing a population comparable to that of an entire red Sand Rift City's floor.

And by the time we travelled to the vicinity of the festival, everything intensified manyfold.

By the time we reached the location where we reunited with logistical personnel that guided us to establish our mobile infirmary along the edge of an immense public avenue, my senses were already assaulted by a million new smells and sights.

Hence, I swiftly requested permission to momentarily leave until our mobile infirmary was readied so that I could explore this novel reality.

"Go on, but come back within two hours," and Xafsa just as swiftly gave me permission.

So I took off and joined the throng of flyers to observe and experience everything I possibly could.

First came the food stalls that occupied entire streets, selling...

Fruits.

Hundreds of them.

Sweet.

Acidic.

Sharp.

Floral.

Some with scents so intense they appeared to coat the interior of my mouth.

Then meat.

Roasted.

Boiled.

Smoked.

Dried.

Raw.

Fermented.

Aquatic flesh prepared in translucent sheets.

Fried substances whose origins I couldn't identify beneath oils and spices.

Thousands of seasonings mingling until separating one from another became a futile exercise.

Wherever food stalls were absent, entertainment occupied the space.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Musicians performing upon raised platforms.

Singers projecting their voices through what could only be Aspect applications.

Groups dancing in synchronized patterns.

Actors reenacting events I lacked the cultural [Knowledge] to understand.

Children pursuing floating lights or playing one manner of game or another.

Adults shouting encouragement at competitions whose rules changed from one intersection to the next.

By the time I returned, I didn't know if what was swelling within me was curiosity, fascination, or something new.

"It's... astonishing how I just witnessed more things in two hours than I ever did since I was born," I told Xafsa while helping arrange the last of the makeshift treatment stations.

"I would have been surprised if that didn't happen," it answered with something that seemed completely irrelevant.

"For all you have an extraordinary story, you are still a child, Solaena. Find comfort in the fact that such exposure to new experiences and novel stimuli can only be useful when acquired during early development. It broadens your future frame of reference."

"I do not think those early development principles apply quite so effectively to me due to my excessive premature development," I reasoned.

"Maybe." Its filaments continued arranging instruments. "But even if that's the case, you can simply treat this as both an immersion into high-prosperity society and an opportunity to observe how sapient individuals ought to act in such an environment."

"Oh. That's smart. I'll do that, then..."

Before long, while I was still extracting lived-in wisdom from Xafsa, our mobile infirmary officially opened, and patients started streaming in from both the festival crowd and other infirmaries who were slowly but surely getting overwhelmed due to being too well-placed.

And as it turned out, it swiftly became evident that the festival supplied injuries and ailments faster than the few assistants we brought along could record and handle them.

Not that I had that much attention to give to the slowly crowding reception area when, just like during my two-month integration period, I was shortly left to handle all the direct aftermaths of Xafsa's expeditious [Diagnosis] and subsequent treatments.

Or, not really just like it, as I was really only left to fill in details like initial conditions, treatment provided, and expected development on a form that was stuck to the patient.

One patient had eaten something incompatible with their physiology.

Another had consumed so much that their primary digestive sac had begun tearing beneath internal pressure.

A different one had intoxicated herself with alcohol.

Another had combined stimulants whose interactions had driven its heart-equivalent into increasingly unstable rhythms.

One had inhaled spores sold as a recreational sensory enhancer and developed temporary blindness across every sensory organ except smell.

That one appeared pleased by the result until Xafsa informed them the blindness might become permanent.

Overall, my duties remained mostly familiar.

Observe.

Establish diagnosis.

Report.

Intervene when instructed.

Follow up after treatment.

The setting surrounding those familiar duties, however...

Was not.

Patients laughed while bleeding.

Some apologized for wasting our time, then immediately asked when they could return to the festival.

Others treated near-fatal intoxication as though it were an expected inconvenience.

One group carried their unconscious companion inside while continuing a song.

This unfamiliarity also unfolded in most unexpected ways, like after I helped stabilize a small mammalian whose digestive system had reacted badly to a crystallized fruit syrup, her companions returned some time later and placed a wrapped object into my hands.

"Sweets," one explained.

I looked down at the parcel.

"I know the word."

"They're for you."

"Why?"

"You helped her."

"That was my assigned duty, you don't need to provide payment for it."

The person appeared uncertain how to respond.

Xafsa answered without looking up from another patient.

"Accept them."

So I did.

During the next lull, I opened the wrapping and found several brightly colored pieces of compressed sugar, fruit, and substances I couldn't identify.

I selected one and tasted it.

The sensation was...

Pretty overwhelming.

Sweetness spread across my tongue, followed by acidity, warmth, then a cooling effect that reached into my throat.

My body no longer needed food due to my sustained [Cultivation].

Consuming it provided literally no meaningful nutritional benefit.

Yet... the taste produced an immediate impulse for me to take another piece.

Interesting.

As a potential trivial form of [Will] [Cultivation], that was.

I resealed the wrapping and put the parcel aside to be taken or handed to anyone who was willing to succumb.

Xafsa's sensory nodes shifted toward me after I did that. "Do you dislike them?"

"No. Those 'sweets' are excessively pleasant, but consuming them serves no purpose beyond experiencing their taste."

"That is their [Purpose], yes."

I didn't answer, instead going to take care of the patient Xafsa just finished healing.

As for the sweets...

I integrated their existence and wondrous taste as another novelty requiring more [Comprehension] of Civilization than I presently possessed.

It wasn't that I had no such [Comprehension] of Civilization, though.

Red Sand Rift City hadn't been entirely devoid of entertainment, after all.

People ate more than they needed.

Gambled.

Celebrated successful expeditions.

Held performances.

But compared to what I was beholding and experiencing now...

It had really all been nothing but a pitiful imitation of the real thing.

Here, countless people had dedicated entire disciplines to producing experiences that changed nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Songs ended.

Dances stopped.

Food was consumed.

Decorations were dismantled.

Yet enormous amounts of labor, resources, and [Knowledge] had been invested into creating them.

"Why?" I eventually asked, in the hope that an answer might miraculously elucidate all my interrogations.

Xafsa was finishing reattaching damaged internal filaments within a crystalloid patient as he replied to me, "Specify."

"Why is this festival a thing? How does it assist any Path worth being pursued? Are laziness and extravagance such as this truly where most people wish for their Path to lead?"

I divulged the core interrogation that had begun pulsing within my being since I got to behold so much decadence concentrated in such a small area.

For more than half a minute, Xafsa didn't answer me, but just as I thought it wouldn't answer me...

"You would have to ask Utopia, the primary organization behind nearly every festival, for a clear answer, but if you wish, I can provide you with fragments of [Truth]s," Xafsa ultimately said.

Having no better source of [Knowledge] at my disposal, I promptly accepted, all while heeding the forewarning of his words only being fragments of [Truth]s, and thus, mostly unreliable.

"A long time ago, before Utopia rose to the same level as the likes of the Pulse Of Eternity or Grand Frame..."

Instead of a quick disjointed answer, as I had expected to hear, Xafsa started orating some sort of historical tale about how Utopia rose from seemingly nowhere as it established itself wherever Civilization had grown sufficiently stable to support more than "mere" survival, before moving on to what it was exactly it did.

"Its members cultivate what can be broadly categorized as 'joy'. Celebration. Art. Games. Performance. Pleasure. Beauty. Every manner of experience that made life "desirable" rather than merely sustainable."

"They preserve what they call the spark that keeps sapience sapient," Xafsa supplemented.

"As for what that means precisely, I have heard that Utopia members have argued over the definition for longer than even Pulse Undying have stubbornly debated the most trivial and inconsequential issue of how to properly characterize a brown hair."

"From a more [Life]-attuned perspective, Utopia services all the inner desires that sapient entities eventually develop given sufficient time, whether they be twisted or completely incomprehensible."

"So there you have it, make with those pieces of [Knowledge] what you will."

I... wasn't getting it.

Perhaps because my [Comprehension] of Civilization remained too narrow?

Perhaps because my "inner desires" had not developed properly.

Either way, the patients continued arriving before I could pursue the topic further.

Near the middle of the period, four fairies were sent my way together.

One was clutching her abdomen.

The other three supported her despite her continued insistence that she could fly without assistance.

Their clothing was bright, layered, and impractical.

Small ornaments hung from their ears, hair, and wrists.

All four stopped when they noticed me.

One of the uninjured fairies, a female fairy with long turquoise hair, eyes, and hair nearest the front, stared at me openly.

"How come I don't know you?" she asked. "I should know about a Serafae variant as pretty as you. Is this your first time in Everwell Prime?"

"Yes," I answered succinctly, moving to take care of their troubled friend, a male fairy with black hair and white eyes and wings.

Her eyes moved over my uniform.

"Well, you've already made it as a trial Aspirant. Congratulations. Want to exchange-"

One of her companions, another female fairy with turquoise hair and eyes but with mostly colorless wings, struck her in the side.

"What?" she demanded.

"She's weird."

"What?" she repeated, now looking genuinely confused.

The fairy who had interrupted her stared directly into my eyes.

"My [Empathy]..." she said slowly. "She's colorless."

The last of the four, a male fairy with blonde hair, golden eyes, and gold-patterned wings, tilted his head.

"You mean your [Empathy] perceives nothing. That doesn't prove there is nothing. It could be any manner of [Concealment], really." He turned toward me. "Would it be indiscreet to ask whether you possess an Aspect that conceals your social state?"

"Would [Secrecy] count?" I raised my social mannerism a bit and informed them with a small smile. "Though now that I have revealed it, the answer has paradoxically ceased to be secret."

All four stared.

I continued.

"And what does colorless mean in relation to [Empathy]? I have encountered mentions of the Aspect in various books, but nothing sufficiently detailed."

The injured fairy lowered himself onto the treatment surface, and I realized a swift [Assessment] while his companions were all too happy to answer my inquiry.

As it turned out, beyond what I already read on the [Empathy] Aspect—that it enabled its wielder to perceive and partially experience the emotions of others—I learned that while initially, those emotions arrived as impressions...

Pressure.

Warmth.

Discomfort.

Attraction.

Repulsion.

With sufficient practice, many wielders organized those impressions into consistent colors.

Fear might appear pale.

Anger, sharp and red.

Joy, bright.

Grief, dark or cold.

The precise associations varied between individuals, but once established, they allowed [Empathy] to function as both a social aid and a specialized detection Aspect.

"And I get nothing from you," the empathic fairy said. "No color. No pressure. Nothing."

I considered whether [Secrecy] was responsible.

It could be.

But it also could not be.

"Unless I'm unknowingly veiling myself in [Secrecy], which I do not think I am, let's assume there is simply nothing for you to find. Emotions aren't particularly relevant to my Path, after all."

The first fairy blinked.

"You don't have emotions?"

"Unless [Ambition] counts. Otherwise, I never dedicated time to developing them." I nodded.

"What a weirdo," the injured one muttered.

The first leaned closer.

"Now that I really look at you... how old are you?"

"Four."

All four went silent.

"Damn," the third eventually said. "Shouldn't you only be learning to speak and fly or something?"

Hearing reminders of where my development stood relative to my age always felt strange.

Not upsetting.

Simply disconnected from the life I had experienced.

"I had to learn quickly to avoid dying."

"Really?"

"I carry part of my autobiography if you are interested."

"You carry your autobiography?"

"I have begun rewriting it. Not every chapter has been transcribed yet, and the newest sections regarding my journey to the Everwell Sector and my joining of the Pulse remain undrafted, but as I intend to form the [Inspiration] Aspect, I'm all for sharing my Path and journey."

The first fairy slowly smiled.

"You're so weird."

"Well, from my perspective, all four of you are weird."

Their expressions shifted to bemused confusion.

I explained.

"The only reason I would willingly remain at an event like this is if my Path required extensive exposure to people, art, entertainment, or Civilization in general."

"I am therefore curious whether you pursue such Paths, how you encountered them, whether your environment transmitted those priorities to you, or whether you came here simply to be lazy."

No one answered.

"Unless you suffer from overdevelopment disorders," I added. "In that case, I would happily make your acquaintance and establish a durable relationship so that we can help each other overcome this grand obstacle to fulfilling our respective [Ambition]s."

"Huuuu..." the first fairy produced.

The fourth appeared to be suppressing amusement.

Xafsa's filaments moved past me and pressed lightly against the injured fairy's abdomen.

"Your digestive chamber is compressed, not ruptured," it informed her. "You will refrain from consuming additional food for eight hours."

"Eight?"

"Or it will rupture."

"Eight is fine."

The consultation ended shortly afterward.

Before leaving, the fairies asked which Pulse Tower I belonged to.

In exchange, they told me where several Fairy Court buildings could be found within the excessively large area that comprised what was administratively known as Everwell Prime, which of them accepted unaffiliated visitors, and which ones were best avoided unless I intended to spend hours answering questions regarding lineage as origin.

Useful intelligence.

Then they departed.

The hectic calm returned.

Patients streamed in.

Treatments continued.

The encounter proved slightly unique, though not especially rare.

Over the following days, I met dozens of individuals who took an interest in me for reasons ranging from my appearance and age to my uniform, wings, answers, or efficient and professional responses.

I treated all those encounters equally.

As opportunities.

Whenever Xafsa released me from the mobile infirmary, instead of resting, I explored the festival.

I listened to conversations.

Learned unfamiliar words.

Observed performances.

Entered markets.

Studied games.

Watched people dedicate hours to activities that produced no lasting material result and then leave apparently satisfied.

Some approached me.

The Pulse uniform simplified those interactions.

It gave them a category into which they could place me.

Healer.

Beginner.

Institutional member.

Someone safe enough to question and respectable enough not to dismiss immediately.

So I answered.

Then questioned them in turn.

Little by little, Everwell Prime became less incomprehensible.

Not simple, however.

Only fractionally more structured.

A thriving Civilization wasn't merely a concentration of people, resources, and buildings.

It was the systems connecting them.

The trains that moved strangers beneath the city.

The Pulse Of Eternity that healed those harmed by excess.

Utopia, which gave that excess a purpose beyond survival.

Various organizations like the Fairy Court, gathering those of shared form and heritage.

Merchants turning abundance into distribution.

Artists turning time into experiences.

And countless other parts I had yet to identify.

So many moving pieces that even a decade might not have been enough to study everything I had witnessed in detail.

But that was good.

The greater the complexity, the greater the advantage granted to one willing to examine it without end.

I would learn.

Organize.

Understand.

And as Civilization continued revealing more of its depths, my Path would continue developing alongside it.

Perhaps those accumulating realizations would only deepen my [Comprehension] of Civilization.

And perhaps, through acquiring sufficient [Comprehension] of its structures, contradictions, and underlying principles, I would begin glimpsing [Insight]s belonging to the likes of the [Knowledge] and [Truth] Aspects.

In any case, beholding such excess had already forced me to discard many of the narrow assumptions I had carried from the Red Sand Sector.

Civilization wasn't anything resembling a singular institution, destination, or road forward, but an immeasurable convergence of systems and opportunities.

With that understood, the [Clarity] guiding every future step of my Path could only become greater.