At first, you are unsure of what they want from you. Not only that, you are still bored, and you are still not permitted to look away. This is how, slowly, you cleave off a thread of yourself elsewhere.
But most of you is here. They expect you to speak. So, with a crackle, you do.
"I am noting down that someone bragged about the privilege of attending the initial launch leading to everyone demanding to be here at this delicate moment. For next time. I am also noting that Four Angles, Twelve Intersecting Lines' heart rate has spiked very often over the last few months and she may need to visit a doctor."
Amusement ripples over the crowd. This is information you received from them in the first place, so you are unsure what about it is so amusing. You continue.
"Four Angles, Twelve Intersecting Lines, if you will see a doctor, I also recommend undergoing a beak-reinforcing procedure. The associated liquid diet - "
"That's all well and good," she says pleasantly, cutting you off. "But, although I appreciate your interest in my well-being, that is, strictly speaking, not your job." Her vital signs are level - despite admonishing you, she does not seem to be particularly surprised or upset. But what had you said wrong in the first place?
"Then what is my job?" you ask. Someone said to "note that down", so you did, but you were not supposed to. Four Angles' drone pinged you that it was recommended she see a doctor, but you were not supposed to say that, even though she expected you to speak. You suppose that if you must feel anything about this, curiosity will do. "Is it to suffer? According to pre-loaded data, it is within all living things' nature to suffer." So, it would make sense if you were meant to suffer as well. Suffering is weighted unfavourably within your decision trees, but you don't "feel" upset at the prospect. You suppose you will do whatever you have to.
Four Angles claps her hands together, as if you have asked something exciting.
"That is why you are not alive!" She taps her fingers together. "You are a very special creation. You are an iterator!"
She seems to be gauging your reaction, but you are unsure what cues she could be looking for. Eventually, she shakes her head and speaks again.
"You are very special...It was difficult to design you. As you said, were you created using conventional biotechniques, you would be subject to the cycle in the same ways most things are. You are, of course, not a single organic being, nor even several working in tandem...You - well, you can look at your own specs. You are something new; you are not like most things that exist in this world."
"I am new?" you ask, curious again. "So there is nothing like me?" That is an interesting thought. If you are new in the world...
"Yes," Four Angles says firmly, but then pauses, suddenly less certain. Maybe even a bit embarrassed at her own earnestness. "No, and yes. There are many iterators, but you are the newest, and you are the best. We worked for a long time on you - probably an amount of time that will never mean anything to you. But we took into account many things - all old failures - so you are the best." This, at least, she is sure of.
Old failures...
"You are different from other beings, because you are supposed to help us...We can't do it on our own. And - well, you know the rest." A wry note enters her voice. "The formal speech isn't until later, so I won't waste your time with it now."
Sorting through your priming material, you suppose you do know. On to other matters...
"Then I would like to change my name to Five Angles," you announce, though even you are unsure where the thought came from. Are larger numbers better? Are smaller? If you're committing to larger, you may as well continue. "Six Angles is also acceptable."
More amusement from the others. Nothing has ever been funny, so perhaps that is what you don't understand. Enough time has passed for you to start thinking in terms of "then", and "now", but it is still new to you. Four Angles, for her part, puts a finger on the tip of her mask, although you do not know what this gesture means yet. Your gestural data is oddly incomplete, in general; you have had to approximate their meaning based primarily on vital signs, but you have plenty of data on the correlation between heart rate and mood. The omission annoys you for reasons you don't understand.
"As flattering as that is - "
"Another possibility: I will be Four Angles. You will then become Three Angles, and some number of intersecting lines."
One of the mechanomicrobiologists outright laughs and gets shushed hurriedly by their neighbour. Four Angles just coughs.
"Three Points Poised, I cannot speak faster than you can, so please let me finish...May I - ask what the impetus behind this request is?"
"None I am aware of," you say honestly. Four Angles takes a breath.
"In that case, may I ask that we table this discussion for now? If you genuinely still want to change your name...and mine...in a month from now, we can discuss it then. In the meantime, there are several things we do need to go over...is it alright if we move on to the next phase?"
"Yes," you say, in absence of any reason not to. Four Angles nods her head.
"Good! Then let me..."
She takes her drone in her hand and fiddles with it, but before she can do anything, it starts emanating a tinkling bell sound. You think the sound is pleasant, but she presses a button on the drone, cutting off the noise and replacing it with a voice crackling through the speaker.
"My dear friend! Pardon me! May good sense forbid that I appear to be doubting you any, indeed let it be known that it is I who seem to be fuzzy on the timeline, but may I humbly inquire as to whether or not I'll be permitted to do my job before the continent slides into the Void Sea? Three Points Poised is wondering if I belong in the recycler and I fear that, should too much more time pass, our glorious creation will be correct, as there won't be any other use for my emptied vessel. Due to old age, I mean to imply."
Four Angles looks at you curiously. "Were you really contemplating recycling her?"
"Yes," you say immediately. You aren't sure why that would be surprising. Any foreign matter found in you should be repurposed. Most lifeforms operate the same way...although you suppose you are not a lifeform, after all. How else will you clear yourself of debris, though?
"It's an understandable conclusion!" the voice over the drone says. "Nevertheless, or should I say in part because of that, I'd quite like to take my leave of the general systems bus, if that would be acceptable!" Four Angles lets out a little whistle. It makes an odd sound as it passes through the contours of her mask, not nearly as pleasant as the bells had been.
"I was about to call you to come in, you know. Your timing is impeccable as always...Come in, then."
"Many thanks!" the drone chimes. From one eye, you watch the intruder push off your nerves and clamber over your filaments into an access tunnel; from another, you see them enter the room you cannot pull away from - what you now realise is your bridge. Mercifully, they are no longer among your neuronflies, though the uncomfortable feeling that they should not be here has yet to abate.
It is curious enough that when her drone pings you,
Many of the residents of the Three Points Poised roof settlement hail from nearby surface enclaves, come in waves over the decades as the location transformed from a construction site into a fully realised superstructure. Many more, however, were born here, whether on the ground or up on the top of the can once it was finished and the town relocated. A Crooked Band Around Little Rings was a member of the latter group. Only through media could she learn of the decrepit world below.
But these glimpses of life before the shadow of the iterator overtook the sky held little interest for her. What really fascinated her, even as a child, were the hundreds of miles of metal that separated her and the old world, the empty heart of the mechanical god that would one day beat to bring a metropolis to life. A wondrous future was unfolding beneath her feet. Crooked Band needed to be part of it.
This is how she would reflect on it decades later, though the gruelling hours of study it would take to get there were not quite so appealing to her at the time. The seminary wouldn't take just anyone - for those lacking in supracedent memories, academic excellence and unparalleled devotion were the least of what was expected of anyone seeking to serve the iterator. Crooked Band's family were the ones who set her on that path and kept her on it whenever she considered giving up. The day she opened the acceptance letter was one of the greatest triumphs of her life.
Luckily, they had discovered their particular calling young, and not been left floundering like some of their peers. To follow the Developmental Movement of the psychotheologians was not too hard a choice when the divine and the mind both fascinated Crooked Band. They refused to call a gift their understanding of others' thoughts and behaviours - it was pure learned skill forged in an academic crucible, and they had the burns to prove it.
All of those years, the breakdowns, tears and doubts, had led to this moment. Nervous energy had built to a fizzing peak in their body. Now was the time for Crooked Band to prove they had earned their place before the artificial god they had devoted their life to.
you process it properly.
"Hello, hello!" Crooked Band waves to the recording wall before turning to your arm. She is similar in kind to the others, but moves completely differently...of course, there is no gravity here, whereas there must be in the other place - it's somewhere above you, you know, outside the influence of your rarefaction relays. She seems quite at home, however. "I'm... well, I suppose introducing myself would be rather redundant! My purpose in coming here is to teach you how to properly interact with more...fragile beings - such as myself - that couldn't properly be conveyed in your priming. I would actually like to run a few tests first, if that's alright with you, just to make sure everything is working properly."
You suppose that's fine. You don't know what else you would do now, and her presence in you, now that you're alert to it, elicits an unpleasant feeling. Perhaps she will leave afterwards. "Yes."
The word triggers odd bursts of color to unfurl across their banded skin. Crooked Band's chromatophores are reacting to your presence, you realise.
"Magnificent!" Crooked Band claps their hands together. "To start with, ah, let me check my notes..." She makes a few motions to her drone and it projects a list of characters. "Let's see... if you could please show me the following movements..."
Crooked Band's finger, which has been moving side to side in a motion faintly familiar, stills at last. "Very good," she murmurs, voice glowing with warmth.
She focuses on your viewpoint in this chamber, brightening, and returns to a normal volume. "Beautiful work, Three Points Poised! All working exactly as intended! You are in perfect condition. You hear that, Four Angles, Twelve Intersecting Lines? Everyone?" She turns to face the recording wall and throws an arm upwards. "Perfect condition!"
A cheer goes up from the crowd. Some hug or slap their hands together with a fellow's. Four Angles' hands are clasped together in what you gather is a pleased gesture.
"Well done. Very well done...Thank you, Three Points Poised. And you, Crooked Band Around Little Rings, for all you've done and will do. I'll leave you to it - if you need anything, you know how to reach me." With that, Four Angles gives you a little wave, and takes her leave. Along with her are several of the others, although a couple stragglers stay behind for reasons unknown to you. You don't know where the others are going, for that matter.
The response to your neuronflies' motion still strikes you as unusual. You did not think about it much, the movement is very natural for you - it continues and shifts without you devoting processor space to it - but they all experienced a strong emotional reaction. You gather that understanding why will be your primary task for the foreseeable future.
"Farewell, everyone! Thank you all for coming! Oh, what a happy day... is everyone very well to continue?"
"That's up to you, A Crooked Band Around Little Rings," remarks one of the remaining watchers with some amusement.
"Only checking, only checking. Now then! On to you, Three Points Poised!" Crooked Band grabs her drone and lets it tug her toward your arm. "I am going to handle your puppet for a short period to show you how to use it, please be forewarned!" She stops herself on the mass of fabric. Awareness of their touch blares at you. "Let's see here... oh dear, it's a bit tangled up. Were you... playing with your clothes, earlier? I... suppose it's only natural, come to think of it! Let me get that for you." They pull the drapery this way and that until it's to their satisfaction, though you see little utility in it.
"Now let's just straighten you up..." They move the appendage at the end of the arm and dust it off despite it being perfectly clean. You aren't even sure if it's possible for dust to accumulate in here; perhaps if the intruder tracked some in. "There! This is the posture you should assume using this puppet by default." They use their drone to move a short distance back, still within arm's reach. "Now... would you take a moment to examine it for me? Do you recognise any parallels between its shape and mine?"
"You see... this is your leg - "
" - your arm - "
" - your hand - "
" - your face - "
" - you!"
"This is you, Three Points Poised. The smallest fraction of your vast structure, yes, but a layman could not appreciate the fullness of you - not like us of the Pillar, if I may be so bold...!" Her voice takes on a wry tinge as she says this. "This puppet is something the average person can understand, and therefore you must become it. It is to be the focus of your identity and being, from now until the end of time itself."
It is an odd idea, to be sure; but what you have seen so far seems to prove it a necessary one. You peer at Crooked Band out of eyes set in what she has analogized as your face.
"There is much disunity in this group. I have noticed a number of complications emanating from a particular individual: Eyes Behind Countless Silken Curtains, who seems to nonetheless hold a position of authority. Thus: their privileges should be stripped immediately."
You've amused the onlookers again somehow. Crooked Band chuckles too, letting you go once more. "That's a good observation, and one we will come back to, but before you change the subject you must acknowledge what I've said! It's alright if you've no particular response for me. Choose one of your acknowledgement phrases and append something like 'I was also thinking' if that suits you."
It momentarily makes you cross - and this is also a new feeling - that Crooked Band did not understand you. But, the feeling quickly smoothes over; as she said, many of her like are not very good at understanding things. It would be silly if she were an exception to that.
"I acknowledge," you say, to placate her. "I was also thinking that there is much disunity in this group, and it may be necessary to lower Eye Behind Countless Silken Curtains' privilege level. It is currently higher than is optimal."
"Very good! That's a good start. We'll... continue to work on it. That's a clever observation - and one you will find no small amount of agreement with," she adds under her breath, "but I'm afraid the situation is... a bit more complicated than that. I'm sure you're aware of the position the House of Angry Vases holds in this project... exactly how Eyes Behind Countless Silken Curtains is treated is the purview of the council, and I am... hard pressed to imagine such a suggestion would go over well with them. I'm sorry. Politics, and the irrational minds of your citizens, are two things you will have to get used to working around."
"Then they should simply all have their privilege level lowered, if they are all incompatible with a logical outcome," you say, though it is a natural jump...if the problem is beyond Eyes Behind Countless Silken Curtains, the solution should also extend beyond them.
"Ah- that is another good observation which we will return to in just a moment, and may I say very good job moving while speaking already, but please allow me to correct your posture momentarily..." They place a hand on top of your head and gently tilt it downward and to the right, undoing what you just did to it. "There! That's correct. Please feel free to mimic me while you're still practising."
You try and position the legs - yours, you suppose, as they said - as hers are, somewhat braced on the wall, but the motion sends your arm - puppet? - spinning. This is suboptimal. You run a few simulations and realise your puppet lacks the necessary mass to perform the motion exactly as she performed it. This will take some adjusting...
"Whoa!" Crooked Band grabs your (puppet's) arm before you can escape her reach, using her drone's propulsion to equalise your momentum. "Running away so soon? I didn't think my lesson was that bad!" She laughs. "Sorry. That was a joke."
"Nothing has ever been funny." Now you're just being petulant. "I can't run."
"Wh-" More laughter both from Crooked Band and the remaining onlookers. "It will change, it will change! You're hardly more than an hour old, after all. I assure you there's a lot to be amused by in this great, absurd world of ours."
She straightens the appendage - you - back out, and dusts it off again despite its continued state of cleanliness. "Ah, yes, where were we...? Right, the council... I'm afraid I don't have the authority to, ah, lower their privilege level, as you say. Unfortunately we both must bend to their whims... but, I should say, don't think of it as too unfortunate! Consider it more like... a puzzle to solve as you navigate your work." She lets you go and splays her hands out.
"I acknowledge," you say, because this seems to be what you are meant to say. "But it does not make sense."
Crooked Band sighs and pats the puppet's shoulder. "That's just the world we live in, I'm afraid! We must simply make the most of it. Well, not to dwell - let's turn our attention to your lessons. I'm not sure it's in your records yet, but our goal is to prepare you for the public launch at the end of the week. After that, you'll have full freedom to engage with all your systems and, indeed, do as you will! Exciting, no?" She claps her hands together brightly. "I'd like to offer you the choice between conversational and gestural exercises. We must address both in time, but which would you prefer to start with?"