Re: The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Four: New Battleopolis!]
04-19-2012, 04:18 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
The Amalgam was beautiful.
From the moment he had been pushed into the Ovoid, Arkal's senses had been overwhelmed. It was as if all humanity, through all the universes, through all times, was singing in unison. Except they were singing with more than just their voices - they sang with their entire bodies, their senses, their minds, their very souls.
It called out to Arkal on a level that was beyond primal - something deep within him told him that he had to join the song, that if only he could add every piece of himself to the chorus, the song would be even more beautiful, even closer to perfection itself.
His body couldn't resist. His mind couldn't resist. Even his soul resonated, moved too much by the symphony of perfection to turn down the opportunity to join it.
For the first time, Arkal saw the sheer, perfect, incomprehensible beauty of the Amalgam. And it welcomed him.
***
It wasn't easy to explain to a recently-animated silver orb that no, you weren't it's mother, but you might be its father in a metaphorical sense. It was even harder to do so when you were trying to slip into the crowd as a battle waged, especially as magic started to be involved. Still, Packston had managed it somehow.
"Look, Papa, snow!" Tarnish shouted as Cascala's storm covered the square. Gadget sighed.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm not always too sure how the process is going to work out. I guess Tarnish here isn't very mature."
"Hey Papa," Tarnish asked, turning to face Packston. "Why did that lady zap that dinosaur? He looked cool!"
"Because, Tarnish," Packston explained patiently, "she joined an organization whose primary purpose is the extermination of non-human species. And the dinosaur was not a human."
"Oh," Tarnish said, thoughtfully. "Why?"
"Fear," Packston said. "Perhaps hatred. Possibly ignorance. Maybe she merely wants someone to feel superior to, and treats non-humans as worthless to satisfy this need."
"Those don't sound like good reasons," Tarnish said.
"They aren't."
Tarnish seemed lost in thought.
"Why do people do things for bad reasons?"
"I don't know," Packston replied. "But what I do know is, there are countless orbs, just like you, except without life or thought. And they were built for those very same bad reasons."
Tarnish gasped.
"And you have the means to do something about them."
"What can I do, Papa?"
"The orbs were built for communication. You can contact other orbs, in other universes. Perhaps you can tell them to stop, somehow?"
Tarnish didn't say anything for several minutes. Gadget looked nervously around as the sky turned beige.
"Um, I think now would be a really good time for this plan to work," Gadget said.
"I got it!" Tarnish shouted suddenly, surprising both of his companions. "I found a high-level command frequency. Normally, it can only be accessed by an administrator, but all the actual mechanisms for sending it out are contained in the physical structure of the orb."
"He's got quite the vocabulary for his age," Packston noted.
"Yeah, I found my database. Lots of words there. Sorry for the wait; the software and hardware safeguards are amazingly well-integrated, it took me a while to figure out how to disable them in the proper order to avoid a shutdown. Seems the Hand of Silver was prepared for the possibility of external tampering or an AI developing sentience, but not an intelligence instantaneously gaining total control of the orb. Real smart move there, Pops. Nice outside-the-box thinking."
"So what does this signal do?"
"Oh, man, it's the best. Full override, needs direct access from an administrator to fix - and here's the best part, that's direct physical access. I'm designing a program to transmit over it, it'll issue commands to drop everything and then transmit the same program to every orb it can find. Might take a while, seems I don't have global direct system access so the other orbs probably don't either, but it'll be self-propagating, so it should really cause trouble for old Hoss. Oh man, I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out about it!" Tarnish paused. "Oh, sweet, I can! I'll just need to add a small tweak to this program to hijack visual scanners."
"So in effect, you've designed a virus for the Network?" Packston asked.
"Not technically, seeing as it's all stuff that's designed to be in there, but the effect is pretty much the same. I'm gonna just check a few things, and then it's goodbye. I'll miss you, Pops. And you too... uh, Mom, maybe?"
"Just call me Gadget. Please," Gadget sighed.
"Got it, Gadj. Anyways, this is the last time I'll be talkin' to either of you, or probably anyone. I'm gonna have to go full-time on transmitting this program, all my cycles are on it. I know it hasn't been long for you guys, but for me... I've known you for a whole lifetime."
"Goodbye, Tarnish," Packston said. He found himself crying. "You're the bravest metaphorical son I've ever had."
"Goodbye, Pops. And uncles. And Gadj. And everyone. Oh, and you might want to cover your ears."
Tarnish went silent, then emitted a loud screeching static as the signal began to transmit through the multiverse.
***
As Arkal joined the Amalgam, he found himself gaining senses he never knew existed. He could perceive even more of the song, and it became even more beautiful, even more perfect than anything he could have imagined.
He reached a heightened sense of awareness, knowing everything about all that surrounded him, and more about himself than he ever had known before.
He was Arkal.
He was a human.
He had lived for more than sixty years.
He had many great deeds to his name.
He had a family he loved and who loved him in return, even if they had trouble showing it sometimes.
He was never a teenage boy, he was a teenage man.
He was chosen for this battle by the Observer.
He was the greatest blacksmith of all time.
He could make a weapon from anything.
He was Arkal.
He was one with the Amalgam.
He had heard its perfect song with all his senses.
He could make a weapon from anything.
He could make a weapon from anything.
Suddenly, he emerged on the streets of New Battleopolis, smiling.
But this was not the smile of a fragment.
This was the smile of the greatest blacksmith of all time.
In the middle of a raging battlefield, Arkal put down his anvil and forge, and began working on a weapon. If anyone were to look at him pounding away, however, they would wonder where his materials were.
And if they had asked him, he would reply that he was Arkal of the Silver Anvil. He was the greatest blacksmith of all time. He could make a weapon from anything.
And now he was crafting a weapon from the Amalgam's song.
The Amalgam was beautiful.
From the moment he had been pushed into the Ovoid, Arkal's senses had been overwhelmed. It was as if all humanity, through all the universes, through all times, was singing in unison. Except they were singing with more than just their voices - they sang with their entire bodies, their senses, their minds, their very souls.
It called out to Arkal on a level that was beyond primal - something deep within him told him that he had to join the song, that if only he could add every piece of himself to the chorus, the song would be even more beautiful, even closer to perfection itself.
His body couldn't resist. His mind couldn't resist. Even his soul resonated, moved too much by the symphony of perfection to turn down the opportunity to join it.
For the first time, Arkal saw the sheer, perfect, incomprehensible beauty of the Amalgam. And it welcomed him.
***
It wasn't easy to explain to a recently-animated silver orb that no, you weren't it's mother, but you might be its father in a metaphorical sense. It was even harder to do so when you were trying to slip into the crowd as a battle waged, especially as magic started to be involved. Still, Packston had managed it somehow.
"Look, Papa, snow!" Tarnish shouted as Cascala's storm covered the square. Gadget sighed.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm not always too sure how the process is going to work out. I guess Tarnish here isn't very mature."
"Hey Papa," Tarnish asked, turning to face Packston. "Why did that lady zap that dinosaur? He looked cool!"
"Because, Tarnish," Packston explained patiently, "she joined an organization whose primary purpose is the extermination of non-human species. And the dinosaur was not a human."
"Oh," Tarnish said, thoughtfully. "Why?"
"Fear," Packston said. "Perhaps hatred. Possibly ignorance. Maybe she merely wants someone to feel superior to, and treats non-humans as worthless to satisfy this need."
"Those don't sound like good reasons," Tarnish said.
"They aren't."
Tarnish seemed lost in thought.
"Why do people do things for bad reasons?"
"I don't know," Packston replied. "But what I do know is, there are countless orbs, just like you, except without life or thought. And they were built for those very same bad reasons."
Tarnish gasped.
"And you have the means to do something about them."
"What can I do, Papa?"
"The orbs were built for communication. You can contact other orbs, in other universes. Perhaps you can tell them to stop, somehow?"
Tarnish didn't say anything for several minutes. Gadget looked nervously around as the sky turned beige.
"Um, I think now would be a really good time for this plan to work," Gadget said.
"I got it!" Tarnish shouted suddenly, surprising both of his companions. "I found a high-level command frequency. Normally, it can only be accessed by an administrator, but all the actual mechanisms for sending it out are contained in the physical structure of the orb."
"He's got quite the vocabulary for his age," Packston noted.
"Yeah, I found my database. Lots of words there. Sorry for the wait; the software and hardware safeguards are amazingly well-integrated, it took me a while to figure out how to disable them in the proper order to avoid a shutdown. Seems the Hand of Silver was prepared for the possibility of external tampering or an AI developing sentience, but not an intelligence instantaneously gaining total control of the orb. Real smart move there, Pops. Nice outside-the-box thinking."
"So what does this signal do?"
"Oh, man, it's the best. Full override, needs direct access from an administrator to fix - and here's the best part, that's direct physical access. I'm designing a program to transmit over it, it'll issue commands to drop everything and then transmit the same program to every orb it can find. Might take a while, seems I don't have global direct system access so the other orbs probably don't either, but it'll be self-propagating, so it should really cause trouble for old Hoss. Oh man, I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out about it!" Tarnish paused. "Oh, sweet, I can! I'll just need to add a small tweak to this program to hijack visual scanners."
"So in effect, you've designed a virus for the Network?" Packston asked.
"Not technically, seeing as it's all stuff that's designed to be in there, but the effect is pretty much the same. I'm gonna just check a few things, and then it's goodbye. I'll miss you, Pops. And you too... uh, Mom, maybe?"
"Just call me Gadget. Please," Gadget sighed.
"Got it, Gadj. Anyways, this is the last time I'll be talkin' to either of you, or probably anyone. I'm gonna have to go full-time on transmitting this program, all my cycles are on it. I know it hasn't been long for you guys, but for me... I've known you for a whole lifetime."
"Goodbye, Tarnish," Packston said. He found himself crying. "You're the bravest metaphorical son I've ever had."
"Goodbye, Pops. And uncles. And Gadj. And everyone. Oh, and you might want to cover your ears."
Tarnish went silent, then emitted a loud screeching static as the signal began to transmit through the multiverse.
***
As Arkal joined the Amalgam, he found himself gaining senses he never knew existed. He could perceive even more of the song, and it became even more beautiful, even more perfect than anything he could have imagined.
He reached a heightened sense of awareness, knowing everything about all that surrounded him, and more about himself than he ever had known before.
He was Arkal.
He was a human.
He had lived for more than sixty years.
He had many great deeds to his name.
He had a family he loved and who loved him in return, even if they had trouble showing it sometimes.
He was never a teenage boy, he was a teenage man.
He was chosen for this battle by the Observer.
He was the greatest blacksmith of all time.
He could make a weapon from anything.
He was Arkal.
He was one with the Amalgam.
He had heard its perfect song with all his senses.
He could make a weapon from anything.
He could make a weapon from anything.
Suddenly, he emerged on the streets of New Battleopolis, smiling.
But this was not the smile of a fragment.
This was the smile of the greatest blacksmith of all time.
In the middle of a raging battlefield, Arkal put down his anvil and forge, and began working on a weapon. If anyone were to look at him pounding away, however, they would wonder where his materials were.
And if they had asked him, he would reply that he was Arkal of the Silver Anvil. He was the greatest blacksmith of all time. He could make a weapon from anything.
And now he was crafting a weapon from the Amalgam's song.
There's no reason for this | Or this | Death is inevitable | You can't challenge fate | The smallest change | I'm overwhelmed
I'm serious | It makes perfect sense | Easy as ABC! | I can't even explain it | Cleaning up someone else's mess
I suck | I rule | I've got it made | Really, I'm serious | This bugs me | It's all lies | I want to believe | Beauty is a curse
I'm serious | It makes perfect sense | Easy as ABC! | I can't even explain it | Cleaning up someone else's mess
I suck | I rule | I've got it made | Really, I'm serious | This bugs me | It's all lies | I want to believe | Beauty is a curse