RE: The Grand OC III: Do Not Steal: Week.6: UNEARTH!
11-19-2023, 05:35 AM
Username: Agen, the unoriginal Trans
Name: Bissara Cheims
Species: Human (?)
Gender: Female (???)
Color: What then, will you do, when these homunculi announce they have no further need of us?
Description: Bissara did not come out of the Vague unscathed. Her brown eyes don't focus right, and that has nothing to do with the floating nano-displays inside; a good portion of what she did carved out and short-circuited heuristics in her mind that will never heal. She speaks with eloquence, a lovely alto voice that makes you want to follow her, but a great deal of the semantic content simply isn't there anymore. She is a leader - she looks like a leader - she is decorated like a leader - but she doesn't remember what she did to earn these symbols. Olive skin. That meant something once. It's very dirty. Her blue uniform is immaculate, tiny animalcules ejecting dirt even as it accumulates, but no such additions inhabit the surface of her flesh.
Hate. She remembers hate.
Weapons/Abilities: A little Y-shaped mechanism, chrome and gold, sits in her grip. It's a handheld intrusions manifold injection device, she remembers. She used it on the Master Elevator either a second or a hundred years ago. A evoluting master key, adaptively overriding the security countermeasures there, soothed the system; she'd descended.
Down to the Core.
Her uniform, aside from being self-cleaning, contains a myriad of defense mechanisms against NS44.9 and other nanotechnological means of attack. It is, however, not bulletproof. There's a hole just below the folded collar of the blue shirt, right above her sternum. It's spotless, naturally, but the wound underneath had been bleeding hard. Her sternum hasn't healed right from being shattered. While her flesh harbors a number of nanos for repair and diagnostics their connection to any control mechanism has been severed and they're only so much specks of germanium and gold, without...? Without something. The pockets of the black pants hold a number of lightweight tools and parts. She remembers how to use maybe a third of them.
The whole Earth had been connected. Once.
It had to go.
Biography: The Vague, NS45.0, Mictative Associative Degeneration, "That", the Coreout - all just names for what happened to humanity at the end of an era. In the beginning there was NS1.0, a transmissible nanotechnological innovation that crossed the blood-brain barrier, giving people on-demand access to the Core, the sum total of human knowledge, the successor to an Internet of Things - and humanity rejoiced. The Core, internet of flesh, silicon and carbon together, forged towards the stars. Connected so finely, people who would grow close grew closer, and ultimately some bodies could not be distinguished as anything more as separate limbs of the same mind. At its peak, the Core went from fourteen billion individuals to perhaps a couple thousand (the Ascended, the Archetypes, the Attractors). To access the Core was to become it. Of course there was fear, and hatred, but Fear was an Attractor like any other, and swallowed up potential saboteurs like candy. NS2.0 refined the algorithms that now stood equal to the posthuman wetware intelligences, and uplifted them, too, to godhood.
Yet humanity in and of itself encompassed a variety difficult to completely encapsulate. Those still left in their own minds built defenses, enclaves and nano-scale attack systems which repelled NS3.0, then NS4 and 5, evolving alongside one another; soon humanity became that which had crossed that blood-brain barrier, and those who had not. Bisarra belonged to the latter. Born to the Cheims enclave just after release candidate NS44.9, she grew up with a hatred for the Ascended that burned brighter than any of her peers had ever seen.
It was her that drove them to action, finally, against their oppressors. Brilliance struck as she observed samples of NS44.9 under nanoscopes, studied the way at which it piggybacked on proteins and osmoted across membranes into axon and sodium-potassium channels, sent low-energy radio packets and high-energy lidar bursts, and she disentangled the work of the Archetypes' architects with only the power of one mind. She saw a way to unearth the potential humanity had buried in ascension. She created, nearly from whole cloth, NS45.0. It fed on memory, and connection, and excreted fear. Not the sort that would just join Fear, the Archetype, though - that had been the trickiest part. Balancing the desire to belong against the absolute terror of being known - only an individual could understand it, and only an individual could return it to humanity.
Yet. There were challenges. Challenges to Bissara, though, had only been inducement to try harder. The new release candidate she'd built had to come from within - from the Core. And someone had to deliver it.
The Core, by then, really was the Core - all Humanity ran on the spinning rust within the world, eutectically etched on the iron of the inner core of planet Earth, powered by geological processes still running from when the planet formed. Convection currents in the geodynamo read out the will of the Attractors, encoded in the entirety of the environment from the Very Large to the Very Small. For a single moment of a mind, enhoused in meat, to struggle against the new gods, was something so futile as to be unthinkable, especially to beings that think they have thought everything there is to think.
Bisarra was under no such illusions. It had to be done. This story itself is not so much a prelude as it is an attempt by her to remind her of how she got to where she was and who she was going to have to be. Even as she left the enclave and felt NS44.9 invade her, she left this and other reminders of her in her, so that even as she was subsumed into the Core she would lead herself to it. Not fully herself, she walked into the maw of the beast she hated and let it strip her of her in her name.
And it was so that when someone still named Bisarra launched release candidate NS45 and raised the walls again between every single person in the entire world, the mnemnovore would take the her of her too in the ensuing chaos. Like an archeologist, she'd unearthed the nature of humanity... but at what cost?
If she'd been able to remember, she would have said it was worth it.
Name: Bissara Cheims
Species: Human (?)
Gender: Female (???)
Color: What then, will you do, when these homunculi announce they have no further need of us?
Description: Bissara did not come out of the Vague unscathed. Her brown eyes don't focus right, and that has nothing to do with the floating nano-displays inside; a good portion of what she did carved out and short-circuited heuristics in her mind that will never heal. She speaks with eloquence, a lovely alto voice that makes you want to follow her, but a great deal of the semantic content simply isn't there anymore. She is a leader - she looks like a leader - she is decorated like a leader - but she doesn't remember what she did to earn these symbols. Olive skin. That meant something once. It's very dirty. Her blue uniform is immaculate, tiny animalcules ejecting dirt even as it accumulates, but no such additions inhabit the surface of her flesh.
Hate. She remembers hate.
Weapons/Abilities: A little Y-shaped mechanism, chrome and gold, sits in her grip. It's a handheld intrusions manifold injection device, she remembers. She used it on the Master Elevator either a second or a hundred years ago. A evoluting master key, adaptively overriding the security countermeasures there, soothed the system; she'd descended.
Down to the Core.
Her uniform, aside from being self-cleaning, contains a myriad of defense mechanisms against NS44.9 and other nanotechnological means of attack. It is, however, not bulletproof. There's a hole just below the folded collar of the blue shirt, right above her sternum. It's spotless, naturally, but the wound underneath had been bleeding hard. Her sternum hasn't healed right from being shattered. While her flesh harbors a number of nanos for repair and diagnostics their connection to any control mechanism has been severed and they're only so much specks of germanium and gold, without...? Without something. The pockets of the black pants hold a number of lightweight tools and parts. She remembers how to use maybe a third of them.
The whole Earth had been connected. Once.
It had to go.
Biography: The Vague, NS45.0, Mictative Associative Degeneration, "That", the Coreout - all just names for what happened to humanity at the end of an era. In the beginning there was NS1.0, a transmissible nanotechnological innovation that crossed the blood-brain barrier, giving people on-demand access to the Core, the sum total of human knowledge, the successor to an Internet of Things - and humanity rejoiced. The Core, internet of flesh, silicon and carbon together, forged towards the stars. Connected so finely, people who would grow close grew closer, and ultimately some bodies could not be distinguished as anything more as separate limbs of the same mind. At its peak, the Core went from fourteen billion individuals to perhaps a couple thousand (the Ascended, the Archetypes, the Attractors). To access the Core was to become it. Of course there was fear, and hatred, but Fear was an Attractor like any other, and swallowed up potential saboteurs like candy. NS2.0 refined the algorithms that now stood equal to the posthuman wetware intelligences, and uplifted them, too, to godhood.
Yet humanity in and of itself encompassed a variety difficult to completely encapsulate. Those still left in their own minds built defenses, enclaves and nano-scale attack systems which repelled NS3.0, then NS4 and 5, evolving alongside one another; soon humanity became that which had crossed that blood-brain barrier, and those who had not. Bisarra belonged to the latter. Born to the Cheims enclave just after release candidate NS44.9, she grew up with a hatred for the Ascended that burned brighter than any of her peers had ever seen.
It was her that drove them to action, finally, against their oppressors. Brilliance struck as she observed samples of NS44.9 under nanoscopes, studied the way at which it piggybacked on proteins and osmoted across membranes into axon and sodium-potassium channels, sent low-energy radio packets and high-energy lidar bursts, and she disentangled the work of the Archetypes' architects with only the power of one mind. She saw a way to unearth the potential humanity had buried in ascension. She created, nearly from whole cloth, NS45.0. It fed on memory, and connection, and excreted fear. Not the sort that would just join Fear, the Archetype, though - that had been the trickiest part. Balancing the desire to belong against the absolute terror of being known - only an individual could understand it, and only an individual could return it to humanity.
Yet. There were challenges. Challenges to Bissara, though, had only been inducement to try harder. The new release candidate she'd built had to come from within - from the Core. And someone had to deliver it.
The Core, by then, really was the Core - all Humanity ran on the spinning rust within the world, eutectically etched on the iron of the inner core of planet Earth, powered by geological processes still running from when the planet formed. Convection currents in the geodynamo read out the will of the Attractors, encoded in the entirety of the environment from the Very Large to the Very Small. For a single moment of a mind, enhoused in meat, to struggle against the new gods, was something so futile as to be unthinkable, especially to beings that think they have thought everything there is to think.
Bisarra was under no such illusions. It had to be done. This story itself is not so much a prelude as it is an attempt by her to remind her of how she got to where she was and who she was going to have to be. Even as she left the enclave and felt NS44.9 invade her, she left this and other reminders of her in her, so that even as she was subsumed into the Core she would lead herself to it. Not fully herself, she walked into the maw of the beast she hated and let it strip her of her in her name.
And it was so that when someone still named Bisarra launched release candidate NS45 and raised the walls again between every single person in the entire world, the mnemnovore would take the her of her too in the ensuing chaos. Like an archeologist, she'd unearthed the nature of humanity... but at what cost?
If she'd been able to remember, she would have said it was worth it.
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So very British / But then again | People are machines Machines are people | Oh hai there | There's no time
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Superhero 1920s noir | Multigenre Half-Life | Changing the future | Command line interface
Tu ventire felix? | Clockwork for eternity | Explosions in spacetime