EDIT: I just got liked by the author... that means that he didn't know and is now going to use it possibly.
AN: In the future, yes. Sadly, it's not possible at the moment. *sniff* Fucking dice rolls.
[Oh Look, a Landline!]
I stare at the sky. Of the wondrous gas giant that was always within view, the pinprick of a star that shines light upon this holy ring, and one of the other moons of said gas giant that might be responsible for keeping the Halo stable in orbit, ensuring that it wouldn't fall into either planetary body's gravity well for a long time, minute adjustments notwithstanding.
Finally taking all of this at once was enough to give me a never-ending vertigo, a dull thump by my temples that wouldn't stop pounding against my ears. The amount of technological progress, the manpower, the sheer amount of chutzpah willing to be made as one final 'fuck you' to the Flood… just wondering where the Forerunners got the resources to make these things was enough to exacerbate my headache. Sure, they were built as some sort of Ark or something like that, but where was the
raw materials? How many asteroid belts did they have to strip out, how many mini-planets did they lift chunks out of to refine into metals that they used in its construction? Hell, how many dedicated
stars could they have made as nothing more than mining or refining platforms for the constructions of these Halos?
"Reclaimer?"
"Sparky." I replied back, turning towards the floating pseudo-murder bot with a thin smile on my face. "Thank fuck that you're here."
"I would like it if you were to refrain from discharging your inner organs everywhere on my Installation." The Forerunner construct replied, its eye glowing a soft blue as it joins me, turning its gaze towards the stars that they had no doubt seen and charted for a very long while. 872 years after the firing of the Halos meant a
lot of spare time for the little guy. Doesn't necessitate them actually lasering that dude to death… though…
Wait. That had been far,
far from this present. Somewhere along the lines of 150, 000 years, if other-me's info was correct. It meant that I could at least change the little guy to be a
bit less homicidal, along with a bunch of other things. That, and make some changes that could probably ensure that the entire war with the… hm. Can I even do that? I'll probably be dead or gone before I could live to see that time, which means that there's probably no reason for me to do so.
… But inaction would mean billions dead. On
both sides of the war. Humanity and the Covenant both.
"Reclaimer, is there something wrong?" Sparky snaps me out of my thoughts, the little bugger having apparently blocked my view of the sun and casting its shadow over my face. "Your continued health is essential to the maintenance of this Installation."
That sounded… ominous. What the hell was it planning now? "Just thinking about things. And observing the stars. That you effortlessly blocked with your presence."
At least Sparky had enough presence of mind to float to the side, allowing me to see the stars once more. I think I might've fallen asleep if I was left alone in here. Nice vistas, cool breeze, the overwhelming dread that tells me that I'm not home and will never be home in the future unless through some stray chance… Good times to fall asleep, really. Thanks for ruining that, Sparky.
"You could use the observatory to better observe the stars, Reclaimer", the AI piped up, "A quick trip through the slipspace translocation network along with your credentials as a Reclaimer would allow us to access it with relative ease. That, and I have compiled star charts for your perusal. Highlighted stars that are shown to possess anomalous properties or breathtaking visages have been jotted down and noted in Quadrant 243a-fL in order to provide a more soothing experience for–"
"Chill, Sparky."
The bot blinks, its main blue light turning off and on for a split second before it turns towards me. "Shall I assume that it was an order for me to stop?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Hm. Good reason. Because you're sort-of ruining the view? Your voice is distracting? I just want to be left alone for a few moments while I contemplate my innate worth when faced with such a large megastructure built by aliens that I never knew more than a millennia ago? I don't know. There's a lot of reasons, and most of them eventually circle back to 'I don't want to interact with someone who I've seen laser a man to death in a cutscene that I saw when I was a kid'. Sure, they probably won't do that
now give that we're technically in the past of this universe, but do I really want to chance it?
… No. Not really. I wasn't too sure, which meant that I need to take things more cautiously if I want to move Sparky from his 'lasering everyone' mindset. Just… nudging things along on a different path. At the very least, it shouldn't cause any more unnecessary deaths in the future. Right?
AN: I was woken up from my impromptu slumber by the increasing levels of angst. Stop.
"Reclaimer." Shit, what was I supposed to reply with again? "Once more I ask, is something the matter?"
"Say, do you think that this entire thing could move around?"
"You have not answered my question, Reclaimer."
I sigh. There was a
reason I avoided the question. Damn you for making me think of a valid excuse, Sparky. Argh, whatever. I'm just gonna say the first thing that came to mind. Hopefully, that should drive them away. "I don't need observatories to just observe the stars, Sparky. I could see them with my own eyes, thank you very much."
"Then surely, looking at things through an observatory would be more befitting of your stature–"
"
Sparky." The AI snapped to me in an instant, presumably by the fact that I snapped at them. Oh god oh why am I fucking stupid
why did I snap at the box of bolts that lasered a man through his chest? "There is something to say about contemplating the universe by your own eyes, of taking a step back and finding your place in such a wide world."
Hm. That was a prodigious amount of bullshit that I just spat out. Would it work? God I hoped it worked. I better get ready to draw my boltcaster just in case, but then that would mean possibly provoking an attack from Sparky. Should I? No, of course not. They'd notice, and then I'd get a new hole burned through my chest. Spicy.
"Philosophy, was it?" No. Dear
god no. I am in no shape to debate philosophy with an AI that has millennia over me. That would just get me torn down to proverbial shreds, with nothing even remaining to pick up the pieces of my shattered ego. "Thinking about what your species' role as 'Reclaimer' actually means?"
Screw it, I'll take the out. "… Mostly. Being given responsibility over the Mantle is daunting, to say the least. It might change our society should we ever discover that fact. Make us more introspective. Zealous. Thankful. Or perhaps bitter. Cynical. Some might even lash out by what appears to be an extinct civilization's last wishes. After all, it was just mere words, nothing more than–"
"Reclaimers have access to all of the Forerunner's more esoteric caches of knowledge."
"Yes, all the better for them to reverse-engineer Forerunner technology and incorporate the knowledge base into our own." I massage the bridge of my nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. Alright, so far so good. I just needed to keep it up, and everything would work itself out. "I'm assuming that even the Forerunners themselves have different factions vying for control over the greater… what was the word again?"
"Ecumene, Reclaimer."
"That. Ecumene." I replied, snapping my fingers before pointing in Sparky's direction, "Yeah, there's no doubt that there would be internal factions in the Ecumene once they were sufficiently large enough to effectively become a galactic government, the same way we'd have the same, even though we're still an interstellar polity. There would be some of us who'd flock to the Halo Array to research the hell out of it, gain a map of former Forerunner worlds to reverse-engineer its technology. Others would take the message at face value and start taking the Mantle seriously and let it guide their lives, while others would simply ignore it as a guideline and break it whenever they feel necessary. Of course, there are also others who would see this opportunity as one to ensure human dominance in pan-galactic affairs, and–"
"–Would result in a great era of destabilization that would no doubt be felt, even with a government-analogue ensuring that such information would not get out into public hands." Sparky cuts in, the blue glow to their eye almost… subdued? Weird. "Reclaimer. What is your name?"
I blink. Where the hell did that come from? "Uh… why, exactly?"
"Differentiation from other Reclaimers." It promptly replied, "There is no doubt that things would be different should another individual be sent here instead of you. Handheld gravity projectors indicate a mastery over the field of gravity, as much as Forerunner boson-photon fields indicate a mastery over photons. By all intents and purposes, your society-analogue's technology is on the same parity as traditional Forerunner technology."
Yeah, I am officially lost. Where is this going? "So?"
"If you so wished, then you could've killed me among the many opportunities that I had presented." My mouth snaps open, but then Sparky's eye turned red, and my hand quickly reached towards my boltcaster. I stopped myself a second later, since well. The box of bolts could've already scythed me down in an instant if it wanted. "You have proven my point, by your recent actions. Of course, I would have naturally defended myself should you have actually resorted to the elimination of my instance, since my first duty is to maintain this Installation."
Right-o. You have made me crap my pants. See, look? I have that whole 'deer-in-the-headlights' look now. Fucking hell. Come on, me. Do something. Don't just stand there looking like an idiot. Like, say something witty, mate. Don't just stand there looking all stoic. You're not that badass, so you have to go out by saying something at least remotely cool. Or something that would be cringe, but I couldn't exactly feel it before I get a hole bored through my chest and die.
"Uh…"
Fucking hell, me.
AN: A public speaker, I am not.
"I have made my point." As Sparky – no,
Guilty Spark – said that, the red from its eyes faded back into its usual blue. Yeah, don't think that I'm just going to let you off the hook for that one, buddy. I'm calling up other-me once this conversation is over and jumping to another universe. "It is why I am asking for your name. Any other Reclaimer who might have the ability to go here would have a different and adverse reaction to the presence of this Installation. And perhaps even me."
Where's my tongue? Oh yes. There it was. Finally, I can speak again. "Why the show of force?"
"Because you do not understand." With that statement, Guilty Spark's eye shifted back into a dull red. "I am an ancilla. One made by the Forerunners, who had once ruled this galaxy via the Mantle. I am not you. I do not
think like you. And I am most certainly not a member of humanity like you. For all intents and purposes, I am alien. You have shown yourself to be cautious. Understanding. Both traits required for those who were willing to expand into new horizons. But you are
naive. It is this trait that I would like to see weeded out. Do you not find it suspicious that I had managed to track you down mere seconds after you had first appeared on this Installation?"
…
"Slow to think as well. Then again, that is a trait that all organics share." Guilty Spark's eye ebbs back into a calm blue, but I already had my boltcaster out, ready to render the fucker into rent shards of highly-irradiated metal. The moment it shifts back to a red eye once again… "Reclaimer: Your name. That is all I am currently asking as of this moment."
"It's Erith."
"Short, succint, and to the point. The very anathema of how my creators named their own kin. Quite amusing." I wasn't paying attention to it. Or well, I was slowly inching away from it while it began monologuing to itself. Fuck me with a breadbasket, I need other-me right now, and
pronto. "Very well, I shall call you 'Erith', as a gesture of respect to the first Reclaimer that I have met in a… for the first time, now that I think about it. That is odd. Something to be investigated perhaps, in another time."
"
Yallo", other-me drawled, and I could hear the scratch of a pen against paper. Was… was he still trying to fucking draw the design? Dude probably threw his hands up and decided that the images that he found on the internet didn't match his aesthetics.
Our aesthetics, now that I thought about it. There's no fucking way that I'm gonna design a ship that's all fucking blocks with a bunch of engines strapped to its rear and maneuvering thrusters all around. "
What's up, other-me?"
"Get me out of here." I hissed in a low tone, glancing back towards Guilty Spark who was now floating around in circles, still muttering to itself. "Seriously, get me the
fuck out of here. While the floating fucking box is still on its monologue and shit."
"
The hell?" Some minor scrambling, quickly followed by the clacking of keys on a keyboard.
"The fuck happened there?"
"Y'know Guilty Spark? Murderbot?" I got a hum and a 'yes' in response, which means that all was good. Well, I think. I don't think I was supposed to hear other-me cursing under his breath, but that meant that things were bad. Sort of. Look, I'm frazzled at the moment and I want to get the fuck out of here right this instant, so forgive me for jumping onto things.
AN: My plans! Ruined! I'd have to spin the roulette wheel again, and I'm not sure if I should send other me to this place. Also, I think I'm just gonna sneak in a couple of extra brown pants into his bag right now…
"
Go on…"
"Its eye turned red." I dryly replied, still shuffling backwards and away from Guilty Spark's sight. "Which is as you know, standard 'shit-is-fucked' situation. So can I please,
please get the fuck away from here now?"
"
Sure." The way that other-me said that is… unsettling to say the least. No flippancy, only worry. The fact that my body began to lurch forward of its own will made the worry spike up in my throat, and I began to panic just as other-me began letting out a soft whine.
"Don't hate me for this, by the way. Blame shitty RNG–"
"–Erith?"
Fuck. "Sparky, stay the fuck back, something's happening!"
"Reclaimer, I am detecting intense amounts of slipspace flux emanating all throughout your body––!"
And then I was gone. Screaming, cursing at the
fuckwit that was other-me even as my puke flew throughout a spire of many colors, with the enticing scent of purple and the taste of ringing drums. My head
screamed, the headache that I had thrumming like a jackhammer as I was whisked through
somewhere in
sometime in
someplace, which all eventually ends in my mouth tasting stomach acid as I puked out whatever breakfast remained in my stomach.
"My word!" A rough voice sounds out from somewhere in front of me, even as I quickly rolled away from my spot while letting out a muffled groan. Ah, dirt. What a wonderful taste, you have. Also,
achoo. Fuck me, just where the hell did I land? I have fucking asthma. This shit's gonna kill me in less than a day, for fuck's sake. "Are you alright there, son? You just collapsed in the middle of the street like that… Perhaps you've been blessed by the Marker, but we have to make sure."
With a groan, I pulled myself upwards, turning around to check my nearest surroundings… and freezing at the sight that I saw. Humans sure, ordinary folk the lot of them, but there was something else that immediately caught my eye. A two-pronged black monolith that intertwined itself around some imaginary axis, with glowing red lines etched onto what appeared to be segmented sections and–
M̵̢̹̏̂ạ̵͠k̵͓̊͌e̷̥͒̔ ̶͍̓̍ụ̴̯̓̈s̵̩͔͐̀ ̸̭̇̿w̵̮̯̄h̶̢̎̃ö̵̥̝́̈́l̷̻̐̆e̸̹̦͑͂,̸͔͒ͅ ̶͙̟̐̿E̴̛̫͌ṛ̸̛ï̶͍̗t̷̬̓̈́h̶̤͑͝.̴̳͋̑
"Sonny?"
My arm snapped up, the boltcaster primed and aimed at the
thing currently in my sights. My hand shakes, trying to move its aim away from the damn thing as it tried to
M̵̢̹̏̂ạ̵͠k̵͓̊͌e̷̥͒̔ ̶͍̓̍ụ̴̯̓̈s̵̩͔͐̀ ̸̭̇̿w̵̮̯̄h̶̢̎̃ö̵̥̝́̈́l̷̻̐̆e̸̹̦͑͂,̸͔͒ͅ ̶͙̟̐̿E̴̛̫͌ṛ̸̛ï̶͍̗t̷̬̓̈́h̶̤͑͝.̴̳͋̑, but I pulled the trigger anyway, orange lightning crackling into existence as a flash of light slammed against the so-called 'Marker'.
"Sonny,
NO–!"
The miniature singularity
moved, ripping apart the air in its wake as it
screamed, taking the dirt along the rock of the
thing alongside it. Space
warped. Rock unearthed itself from the sheer gravitational force of the projectile that I had just launched. I felt a tug upon my entire body as I was slowly dragged towards the damn thing, but even then I could hear the Marker
scream into my head as to how I̴ ̵w̵a̵s̵ ̶g̸o̴i̴n̷g̷ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵a̸y̷ ̵f̴o̵r̶ ̶n̶o̴t̵
M̶̛̎͑̋͜Ä̶͚̈́̅K̷̻̼̕Ȉ̴̻̭̙̚͝ͅŇ̴̻̑G̷̙̼͂͑ͅ ̴͖͈̟͐̓̕U̵͚̩̔̿̏̕S̵͔͇͖̿̆͐ ̷͇͖͙̐W̴̭͐͜Ḩ̴̪͓̒O̶̲͎͍̾̕L̴̰̆̈̇̕Ȩ̸̯̜̂–
–But then everything shone with a bright white light, and everything went black. In my last thoughts, I could only think of one thing.
Just... fuck you, other me.
> World 3. Dead Space.
AN: Like I said, bad roulette roll. Can't blame me for that. Besides… we have reserves. I'll just… filch out those memories on the next one. You'll be dearly missed, other-me no. 324. What a chad.
