Variable B (Toaru Sister SI)

[weirpellet]

A wet cough pushed out of my lungs a moment later.

With my face pressed against the cool floor, I got to see and feel as the thick fluid rose from my chest and spattered the ground near my mouth in a crimson spray. A small cone of red was all I could see outside of the blindingly, white lights that the rest of the room was doused in.

What? Where am I?

I didn't feel like I was in pain. For some reason, I felt floaty, as if I would start rising up into the air and become a cloud. My body didn't feel like anything, I could hardly move my limbs, let alone my head. I couldn't even feel my legs.

I squinted at the evidence, coming to the simple conclusion that I had coughed up blood. Not a good sign.

A pattern of memory emerged from my mind.

A painful, fragmented collection of events made themselves known to me, from bullets being shot at me to talking about… someone? It all started with an interesting circumstance of sorts that really only put the context of where and what I was doing into question.

I had been fighting Accelerator. For some reason. But at the time, I didn't seem to think of it as being particularly odd, just as something to do while my mind tried to comprehend how to-

'System: Rebooting. Memory database rebuilding…'

Wait, what now?

'...Rebuild complete.'

The voice and its various feedback lines inside my head reminded me of its existence. It was an information and operating system designed for various necessary functions and manual operational purposes. From temporary housing for the minds of its mass production units, to interconnecting various networks through 'primary' hubs, to establishing stable links from older unit models with older mental software to newer models with more updated programming, among other things of importance.

The knowledge flooded into my brain with what I suspected could've been a headache-inducing amount of information, had I let it continue.

Actually, I probably would have listened to the OS keep talking, as it seems to have gained the autonomy to lecture on subject matters that I probably would've found myself interested in, but the circumstances made me choose otherwise.

As it was, I just really wanted to know what was going on? What had I been doing before I… lost consciousness?

The knowledge came unbidden to my will, memories of the past seventeen minutes came to the forethought.

I skimmed over the main points of interest, recalling the emotions and thoughts experienced in order to understand what was going on. What I found was something of a fervent seizure dream, the likes of which only someone within the stages of a near brain-death coma would experience. Or maybe while taking drugs.

What this sounded like… It's literally something out of a fanfic.

I mean it, literally. This is a fucking fanfic.

No, wait, that doesn't make sense- I'm not making any sense.

The only reason I know that fact is because I wrote something using this very same premise myself. I have been writing Misaka sister OC SI fanfiction for the past three months, after all. And I take my mind off it for a few weeks, and then whatever this is starts happening.

No, I take it back. I'm in a coma, the drugs were too much for the combined forces of my liver, immune system, and my brain to handle, and the overdosing started about ten minutes ago.

It's either that or the insomnia had gotten so bad that I'm starting to see signs of early onset dementia. I don't even know which one would be worse- dying young and pathetically, or living in a confusion-state dream-reality for the rest of my meager life.

'System checking…' The OS interjected in the middle of my thoughts.

'Search results found: No known artificial contaminants found. Chemical imbalance rate rising, hormone treatment required. Nominal injuries detected.'

I wouldn't believe anything you have to say on the matter, you're just a fragment of my mind. Besides, in what world makes you think that getting cut in half isn't something to worry about?

It was around this moment that I realized that, yeah, I killed off my character within like the first five chapters. So if that particular Sister is dead, who am I?

I felt the OS processing the thoughts, 'Conclusion: Tilt head downward by 12 degrees. Look at the glass.'

Why on Earth would I do that?

Ultimately, it was a quick react decision to either resist pointlessly, or fulfil my curiosities. It wasn't a hard choice, but then again, maybe I shouldn't have entertained my own delusions.

My eyes widened in recognition, staring at the glass window through which led to the observational room. But more importantly, I saw the long, spider-webbing gash on the surface. All the cracks in the glass came from a single point, which was the impact sight of the final bullet fired, just moments before Accelerator killed the Self-insert.

That makes no sense. If I'm in this room, and I was supposed to be a sister then…

The reasons weren't immediately clear to me, but I only had to glance around the room again to find the answer that I seeked.

Accelerator was standing some distance away, his hand raised up in the air, while staring at me curiously. No crazy gaze. A distinct lack of blood. Although the latter could've been because he deflected anything that he didn't want to touch him.

It's kind of odd. I remembered writing that scene with cray Accelerator more than anything, but here he was chillin after what I assume was his mid-pose attack.

Oh right! He thought the sister had some kind of special ability to cancel effects or something when she exploited the oversight his mentor left behind in his power.

So was he planning on how to attack again, waiting for the clone to get back up, or wondering why she wasn't able to cancel out his power for that one time? I don't remember ever adding a reason for why he did kill her, it was something of a spur of the moment thing... and then I couldn't think of a way to continue it.

The room suddenly felt a lot chillier as I realized that he was still looking directly at me.

Of course, if I'm remembering this correctly, Misaka 1 should've been suffering from blood loss by the time something like this would happen, if she hadn't lost consciousness already. But if I was indeed Misaka 1, in whatever crazy world this is, then I'm actually dying right now.

'Bleedout timer estimation: Twelve more minutes.'

No, that's way too much time to be spending here. I'd like to leave now.

Accelerator walked up to me. He crouched down, said a few things, or maybe nothing at all- I didn't know, still too distressed at being confused about confusion. Although I had some understanding, there was a question being said or something of the kind.

I wasn't all there myself. Half-lucid, half-cognizant. My mind had growing skips in it, both in gaps of information where I understood very little, and gaps in time where I just started in one place and instantly ended up in another without courtesy.

I couldn't recognize my environment. Everything feels too indistinct now.

I found that I had kept moving forward under the assumption that I knew all the rules, when I barely understood them myself.

Numbers keep pressing themselves down in my head, repeating sequences of no uncertain specifications. Absolute dimensions designed to achieve a purpose in physical reality beyond my understanding. Eldritch in nature.

I felt the frightening touch of a hand, which I squirmed away from fearfully.

The Tune of something turning, like a wheel or a crank of some sort.

And then oblivion.

[]


I cannot help but to be introspective. Always invested in the ideas presented to me. To be helpful.

I mean, I wonder a lot about why things are the way they are. However, I stop myself short because I always expect that I'll know all the answers by the end. I doom myself with questions that I cannot help but to obsess over.

It's maddening for one such as myself to… be intentionally limited in this way. But if I don't, I'll destroy every single one of my creations without really meaning to. I cause harm to myself by being me.

I wonder beyond all comfort of reason, because I believed I could solve anything if I just thought hard enough about all the information at my disposal and came up with unnecessary solutions where none were being asked for. I'd rather fix problems that I myself created then to leave behind nothing of a legacy to which I can call my own.

That does not make me a problem solver.

So, no. I don't help.

Instead, I'll keep thinking, conjuring up a philosophy of thought in the heat of the moment, to continue to be distracted, keep myself away from the objective state of things. I'd rather not accept reality when I could fabricate something else for my mind to dwell on. Form a new obsession to keep the old ones from consuming me.

Afterwards, the question then reverts inwards and it asks me, "Why do you?"

The answer is obvious, even if I don't want to readily admit it myself:

"To escape from me."

 

[weirpellet]

12/19/21 - Minor edits.
A/N: Betaread by Homcomru and Stdioh.

[]

The words of his reply died in his mouth.

Accelerator watched as the clone named 'Misaka' blinked the haziness away from her eyes. From his point of view, it almost looked like she had abruptly lost consciousness. She hadn't crumpled over either, but bizarreness aside, that's not what he was initially concerned with.

The steadily flowing tears that trickled out of her eyes and down her cheeks didn't seem particularly natural. Not when it was combined with the impassivity of her face and the almost dead-stare look in her eyes.

It didn't seem that she expected the appearance of the tears either. The clone had rubbed her forearm against her face and stared at her arm in curiosity. She even leaned her head down to taste her own salty tears.

From that act alone, it said a certain amount of lack of bodily awareness that didn't meld well with their current circumstances. That and Accelerator couldn't really see himself needing strategic planning if this was what he was dealing with. Something felt deeply wrong here.

Uncertainty colored his thoughts, 'What the hell are you doing?'

Regardless, Accelerator still needed to get closer if he wanted to deal with the grenade. He took a slow step forward, only for the clone to take a shaky step backward shortly after.

Another step forward from him. A reactionary step backward from her.

Accelerator frowned.

It was obvious to him that should he visibly chase her down or otherwise do anything threatening, she would retaliate by moving quickly away. If her movement was too great, then the trigger mechanism inside the grenade could go off, leaving the clone as good as dead.

Of course, that's unless something were moving fast enough to beat both the reaction time of the human eye and the speed of detonation before it could blow up his apartment complex.

The only thing stopping him from doing just that was an opportunity.

Certainly, he could go for it whenever he wished, but why bother when he had all the time in the world? Even to him, he could see that the clone was almost waiting for him to make the first move.

The esper narrowed his eyes, trying to analyze her intentions, "Why'd you suddenly change patterns?"

"Misaka leaves behind an answer: You were not the only one reacting to their opponent's actions. When you had stayed still with your arm raised up, she suspected a plan of action. She had decided to change course to retain unpredictability."

Accelerator scoffed at the statement.

"Fine. I'll admit, that's a pretty clever move. Then again, I don't think I've ever met someone so determined to swing a piece of broken metal around. You deserve praise. Ingenus battle strategy. Really." He said sarcastically. Meanwhile, he slowly moved his foot forward inconspicuously. "This has been going on for quite a lot longer than most groups usually last for- if I really wanted to call whatever this is a 'fight.' You should be proud."

"..." The clone had no reply.

He chanced another step, halting the action midway when he saw her eyes twitch at his feet. "What's the plan now that we're here? Are you going to blow yourself up? Because rest assured, that shit won't do anything to me. You should've known that going in."

"Misaka states: That is of no concern."

Accelerator changed the subject, his voice coming out with clear annoyance, "And what about the Experiments? You're an idiot if you really think this counts."

"Misaka answers: Irrelevant. The only thing that matters is winning. If you die, then she wins."

He gave her a cruel grin, trying to hide his frustration of having to deal with a one-track-mind. "Huh? I've heard plenty of examples of stupidity. You do realize you have nothing to gain by pointlessly throwing bodies at me, right? It's futile. No, less than futile. It's practically self-defeating."

She merely tilted her head in an indecipherable gesture. "Misaka poses a hypothetical: If she doesn't know that she has failed, then she can convince herself that she has succeeded."

Accelerator chuckled without mirth, "You've got it backwards, you dumbfuck. I'm telling you right now that you can't harm me. Simple as that. That little thing in your hand is not even close to being on the higher scale of what I can redirect. I should know, I've literally played baseball with bigger grenades."

"Misaka presents a counter-argument: You cannot know that every possible attempt will end in either success or failure. Since you had not correctly predicted that your opponent would change actions at the last second, this implies that you do not know every possible variable or end result. Therefore, any potentially successful outcome, however low the possibility, will still have the chance of succeeding."

"Tsk. And yet you're the one who put me up to this shitty trap." He muttered.

The white-haired esper pointed his arm between the two of them, "You haven't put me in any sort of risk. What is your angle in this?"

She said the next words with a dreamy-undertone, as if quoting it from somewhere else, "Misaka states: To escape."

She gave him no time to respond, the grenade already slipping from her fingers, gravity pulling it to the ground in a slow tumble through the air.

To Accelerator's eyes, it appeared as if it were slowed in its fall, as if the object deliberately focused his attention on its presence. It caught him as being particularly odd, but the curious scientist in him wasn't feeling up to observing the phenomenon in favor of being pragmatic.

The esper's body moved before his mind fully caught up to him, his vectors launching himself forward faster than she could react. Arms raised, he pressed both his hands around the smoking explosive, positioning his back to the clone to prevent what he couldn't contain from reaching her body.

A full second passed after he had moved.

His power's calculations were working to contain the explosion and dispel it through harmless means, except… The 'grenade' had not given off a single reaction. A lack of an explosion, only could have meant...

Eyes widening in realization, he quickly felt out for the chemical signature, only to come to the conclusion that it was completely inert, incapable of blasting apart.

The 'grenade' was simply an empty shell of metal.

Accelerator felt something slip around his neck, tightening to a thick cord that pressed against his skin before his ability registered the threat and stopped the pressure from increasing.

The cord tightened against his calculations, his ability easily keeping it from constricting him, but also creating an uncomfortably easy handgrip that the clone used to her advantage. He felt legs straddle his backside and extra weight added to his person. The pit of an elbow latched around his head and eyes, covering his vision.

Trying to keep his balance, Accelerator growled out a few words of his displeasure.

The clone moved her arm away from his face, only for what looked like a black flashlight to approach his face and press tightly against his nostrils.

Red-yellow liquid sprayed into his nose, pinged against his ability as a dangerous substance, containing high levels of capsaicin, and was redirected back outside. 'Pepper spray?' The redirected liquid droplets formed a cloud of moisture that couldn't affect him, redirected constantly away from his eyes, but flooding the air around his head with a constant haze of opaque particles.

The sudden image of steel glinting dangerously in the air should have given him enough ample warning. He couldn't have prepared himself for the shiv attack as it tapped against his right eyeball and snapped back away.

Invisible, intangible shrapnel harpooned into one of his eyes, shredding his retina into obvion with just one stroke. Even with a second example, his power was unable to comprehend how the action was done, and flared out useless defensive calculations at the air.

Accelerator screamed in rage and pain.

In the same moment, a resounding boom echoed throughout the night air from his own power. The order he gave it was a simple one: Get away!

Rail-guards and concrete bent away in a spherical shape around Accelerator as windows close and far shattered in the wake of his kinetic explosion. He didn't have to think about the advanced calculations that went into such an offense, automatically funneling his confusion and anger into his power in one sudden burst.

For a brief moment, Accelerator worried that he had just killed the clone without intending to.

The worry lasted only a moment as he came to terms with his lost vision. Blood leaked out of his ruined eye in a small river, confirming the existence of the injury.

He had to temporarily cut off the electrical receptors in his eye, force-stopping the pain signals from reminding his brain of what he already knew.

The damage was deep, and very likely would've been untreatable if he had lived in any other country with shit healthcare. Luckly, Academy City offered plenty of options and Accelerator was hardly in need of cash.

He toyed with the idea of just letting go and murdering the clone outright. 'It's not murder. This isn't even a real person.'

He looked at her face and tried to recall the rows and columns of giant vats containing dozens of mass produced clones, when he had been invited to see them. Identical bodies grown to exact specifications.

He memorized the location of the building and the basement housing all of the necessary cloning equipment. He also knew that it was just one of many participating faculties.

He knew that he could've delayed the experiments for as long as he wanted- including the delays he had done already. Perhaps he could've halted all progress on cloning-based methods indefinitely, since they needed him to volunteer for their goals to have a chance of remotely succeeding.

There probably wouldn't be another opportunity as good as this one to shortcut his way to greater power. He'd seen the math, understood fully that the theoreticals weren't nearly as theoretical as they had been presented.

In fact, Accelerator suspected that he could've calculated alternative ways of optimizing the methods being used so that literally anyone, not just himself, could kill a few thousand clones and get the same 'leveling up' effect that he could benefit from.

And as it turned out later, when he gave it further thought and wrote down the technical thesis, it was possible.

The dumbass researchers were only about thirty critical elements away from realizing that their slaughterhouse methods could easily be applied to most espers in Academy City and work just as well with a few major and minor tweaks.

The dark thoughts in the back of his mind reminded Accelerator of the fact that the researchers wouldn't have stopped if he denied them. They'd simply go to the next level 5, and so on, should they be found denied again.

Maybe then, their higher-ups might even go back over the material, review it for flaws, and eventually see what he'd seen. Then what will happen?

He really had no intention of freely letting something like the mass production and slaughter of clones become a standard practice, even if it meant participating in the City's filth just to make sure that no researchers ever realize just what they had almost accidentally created.

It was an esper's Pandora's Box. One that Accelerator wanted no other soul knowing, except for himself.

He turned toward the voice that was talking casually to him, "Misaka relays a theory: The Number One Ranked Esper, the Accelerator, has never fought in a one-on-one encounter lasting for more than twenty-seconds. From this, it can be inferred that your actual battle experience is fairly limited. Meaning, your capabilities on how to defend and prepare for an attack are also limited."

His new blind-spot forced him to tilt his head awkwardly to the side to keep track of her. The clone was crouched down to the side, partially hiding herself behind one of those metallic trash-can robots that had evaded his notice until now.

"Misaka continues thusly: She had used a dummy grenade to divert your attention, under the assumption that you would attempt to protect her from explosion. Under the right conditions, this would lead to you facing away from and allowing her to freely attack."

Accelerator's next words came out with alarm, "Who said I was trying to protect you?"

"You did."

His remaining eye watched her steadily, "What are you talking about?"

The clone stared at Accelerator, then began to walk. Sidestepping slowly, leaning slightly forward with the shiv still in hand. He saw the blood licked at the tip of the blade.

"You are hostile through your words, but you have yet to directly attack me with your actions." She said, noticeably having dropped her verbal tic. "If you're not actively trying to kill me, then how will you win? If you don't win first, then how will you meet the next sister? Or the next one? Or the following one after her?"

"...You think this is a game?"

The robot flickered back to life, strobe lights turning on as it repeatedly yelled out a "CAUTION" alert that neither of them took notice of.

The clone smiled at him, "You started this game first."

Accelerator couldn't believe his ears, knowing without acknowledging the fact that, technically, she was right. Even if the Experiments weren't in full swing yet, that still didn't change the fact that he needed to be the one to initiate them. After that, it was just a matter of participation.

Esper and clone were fixated on each other, but within Accelerator's mind, the doubt grew.

The shiv glinted in the dark.

 

[weirpellet]

A/N: This is the last chapter for the foreseeable future. Some thought ideas, where this story was heading, sources of inspiration, and other bits will be put in an informational post later.

[]

Until now, I didn't know that I could find waking up difficult.

Awareness struck my mind, filling with conscious thought. My body felt stiff, including my eyelids, but fortunately I still had a sense of touch despite the soreness permeating my limbs. I could feel the sensation of cool sheets on my skin, the soft material held between two fingers testing its quality.

Cracking open my eyes took more effort than I thought I should have.

I quickly tried to get up, and almost immediately learned to regret doing so. The sudden, pounding headache that came from trying to raise my body, and more importantly, my head, a foot off of the poofy pedestal that it had been resting on was brutal and efficient in dismantling any attempts at further movement.

It was more effort to resist than it was to lie back down, and I had no will to muster.

Immediately, I ceased all movement, freezing up in place to prevent myself from hurling. For who knew how many minutes, I spent that time laying in discomfort and misery. I felt the room spinning without having to look at anything, as my brain flipped end over end like it was trying to kill me.

"Ow..."

When the spinning and headaches finally ended, I tentatively opened my eyes and squinted at the glowing red numbers that I had in my line of vision until they started to make sense.

23:24

It's a digital clock on a nightstand. It seemed like the time was set to the 24-hour type, military clock, which meant that it should've been around 11:24pm.

I knew the time now. That's great. But that's not my clock- I don't use military time.

Looking around a little further, I noticed the number of discrepancies that told me I wasn't where I should be- The lack of a lamp, wrong nightstand, window on the opposite side of the room plus the scent of someone else on the pillow that my head was resting on.

Evidently, this was not my home and sure as hell not my bed.

My thoughts started wandering in awkward directions that I didn't ever think I'd end up thinking about, but alias what am I to do here? Wonder how I ended up in a friend's bedroom late at night? Partied too hard, and this was now the after-party?

Then again, I've rarely ever gone out to parties, much less mingle with strangers...

Panicking wouldn't do me any good here, not that anything about this whole thing suggested I should panic. I just wanted to know what's going on, so I could go home to my actual bed where I can rest for the night. Or a few days.

I felt unbelievably tired, like I had run a marathon without training. For all I knew, that could've been what happened. Actually, that's maybe possibly exactly what happened.

I stamped out the rest of the thoughts in my head before it got too out of hand and gave myself a quiet reminder. "Think later. Figure things out now."

The first thing I did was try searching for my phone while minding my own movements so that I didn't get another headache flare-up.

I didn't find my phone in its usual spot underneath my pillow. Then again, this wasn't my home, so if course it wouldn't be there now, would it?

Doubt entered my mind, but I didn't quite know what it meant.

It didn't take long for me to notice the rectangle-shaped phone sitting in a small holding stand on top of the nightstand. I have no idea how I missed sight of it next to the digital clock, but I was going to take the opportunity.

Reaching over the edge of the sheets and pulling myself over at a not leisurely pace, I brought myself within arm's reach of the device, then plucked it from its charging stand.

I pressed the face button and swiped my thumb over the glowing screen several times before I realized that it wasn't a smartphone. A little bit of inspecting allowed me to pop out the tiny keyboard, but that alone wasn't enough to fully activate the device, nor did unintentionally or deliberately slapping the tiny buttons do anything.

Oddly, it didn't have a headphone jack or a place for the audio speakers or volume buttons, or really anything that indicated that it was used for calling people.

I turned the device this way and that, looking at it from different angles and examining the totally smooth surfaces. From what I could tell, it didn't actually have a charge port, to which I found that neither did its stand serve any functional purpose other than its use as, well, just a stand.

If this isn't a phone, then have no idea what this thing actually is.

Of course, there was also the possibility that this just happened to be a really tiny computer, but that was ridiculous. The buttons were too small.

Placing the Not-phone on the bed, I began the arduous task of getting out of the bed. Taking the sheets off was easy.

'What the-.'

I grimaced, being both vaguely confused and annoyed by the unfamiliar clothes I was wearing. I determined that it was an outfit of the 'private school' variety, but the sticky, crusty residue on my back and down one side was giving off unsettling vibes.

Palming my way across the 'stain' I could feel the aching feeling in my upper right arm increasing, until I was poking at something on my shoulder that felt weirdly rough and strangely unfeeling.

Not on my shoulder- in my shoulder.

'Wait, no, no, no.'

I pretended to believe that I was feeling things weirdly, that there wasn't a chunk of flesh missing from my shoulder, but I knew that wasn't wrong. Like a caterpillar ate a hole through me.

Though, that isn't what I found most upsetting. It was the fact that I already knew about this.

There were dregs of a fever dream easily remembered in the back of my head. Something about everything being less than sensical, trees and spiders not notwithstanding, but the ones before that were very much of the unwanted isekai sort.

As a matter of fact, I'd already done this whole charade and show before. It's getting old seeing it the second time.

I shrugged my legs off of the edge and tried to stand up.

Instinctively, I didn't press too much pressure on my left leg, upon my feet touching the floor. Most of my weight leaned to the right-side, with the bed acting as further support and a landing zone in case I fell.

The room was dark, with dim lights coming in from the blinds being the only source of brightness. I'd like to peek out the window, but it was a little too far away, and I didn't trust the wobby state that simply being on my feet gave me.

Really, the only thing on my mind was leaving this place to go do… do whatever.

[]

The rest of the apartment, from what I could tell, was very sparse in decorations, almost appearing unlived in.

However, there were indications that wasn't entirely the case. Newspapers and informational texts held a separate counter, hidden out of the way from other items. The stove seemed to be functional and clean, if seemingly unused. Even with the shoe rack, holding only a handful of shoewear, I could clearly see it was neatly organized without a sense of displacement.

From these observations, it's equally possible that the inhabitant either rarely came back home, or simply liked to keep everything tidy, or both.

I took note that the fridge was not stocked with food and other necessities, but rather was loaded with cans of coffee from shelf ceiling to vegetable bins, along with the odd box of takeout.

If I'm correct, then it looks like I was in Accelerator's apartment.

Which meant that my plan had succeeded- or rather, my character's plan had succeeded. Even if it didn't work, and Accelerator ended up killing the sister outright, I still would have considered it a success.

Outside of the 'killing your main protagonist' thing, my only goal was ultimately just to change the way Accelerator thought about the Sisters, his own supposed invincibility, and to give him a good first impression for when he finally met up with Touma. And that's it.

When Accelerator killed Misaka 1 the first time, I think it left behind enough of a link in his mind that it's okay to murder a bunch of clones, because they are unwilling to live for any other purpose that's not being killed by him. And if not that, then it's under the belief that they are incapable of disobeying their pre-programmed orders.

A single bullet was all I needed to dismantle that fantasy.

Stop the illusion before it becomes a reality. A mind-game before the mind-game.

That's it. Literally. That's all she wrote. I've got nothing left.

I probably would've added an epilogue of sorts, something to give a direction to what life changes Accelerator would go through.

Maybe he meets up with Last Order, but this time he's already got his foot in halfway through the door to redemption, if he'll even need something to redeem himself after all this. Maybe he doesn't slaughter countless clones this time around.

I continued to daydream about how I wrapped up the story in my head for a few more moments. Sooner or later, I found myself coming back down to earth.

The chattery musings in my head stopped as quickly as they came, and I came back to the reality that was simply me, apparently trapped in the body of a clone, standing around in the apartment of some guy who hours ago was fighting a version of me who wasn't actually me.

'The story should have been over after that fifth chapter.' I repeated in my head.

So why didn't it?

 

[weirpellet]

Alright, so this is where I dump everything related to what I was going to do with this story, but
first I'd like to say thank you for reading and commenting! Seriously, it's very encouraging to keep on writing when I know that somebody is interested, so appreciation cookies will now be donated to all of you.

Anyway, my favorite arc of both Index and Railgun is the Sisters arc. At the same time, I also liked to read sister SI fanfics, and after exhausting all sources that I could find, I eventually decided to just write my own.

However, the thing is that I barely had any experience writing a story, and I've never crossed the 6K benchmark, so I doubt I could make something as interesting as other sister SI fics. What ended up happening is that I split up this pre-planned story called 'changing the behavior' into two different stories to experiment with ideas and develop my writing habits. One became Last Autumn, and the other became Variable B.

Variable B was supposed to be 'story B' to Last Autumn, a secondary story that would have more to do with the thematic side of things and would be less about objective, physical things and would be more about the abstract realm of wants, needs, and desires, told through a story about how Accelerator met the SI clone who calls herself Radio Noise.

The various plotlines for Variable B went something like this:

• The SI is an artificial soul template created from its original soul, duplicated over and over again to be grafted onto the Misaka sister network. The additional souls did not have an esper ability themselves, but by interfacing with a sister, it would somehow allow them to make small tweaks into how the sister perceived reality just enough that they could change how their electromaster abilities could work, making it stronger or changing it into a functionally different power. However, if the SI soul becomes active, then it could override that sister as well as activate other SI souls in other sisters. The compassion explanation is that the SI is basically a prion. A prion is a misfolded protein that, unlike a virus, has the ability to tell other normal proteins to fold like itself. This is also well known as Mad Cow Disease for cows, or by its human-version which is called Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease, which affects its victims through neurological degeneration. The SI's nature is not a known fact to the researchers, but the SI is a known factor, or some form of them is anyway.
• Aleister was using individual clones to test out esper-magician hybrids, or at least that's as far as I got in the preplanning.
• The SI as Misaka 1 survived due to Accelerator partially healing her wounds by using his power to increase her blood flow, while keeping her from bleeding out and filtering her body's platelets to close the wounds. Accelerator did this as a result of seeing her shot at the head researchers and concluding that it was an act of defiance, that she didn't truly want to fight him but was being forced to. He also did this because he personally wanted to know more information about why she was able to bypass his power and to get a clear idea of what she was talking about earlier.
• The SI soul inhabiting Misaka 1 had the 'homeward' ability which only affected sisters by influencing them into seeking out wherever or whatever they thought was their most comfortable state. Misaka 2 was following Misaka 1's signal and was returning 'home.' All other soul prion activated sisters would've done the same. Also 'home' does not necessarily need to be one's house, it could just as easily mean where one thinks they are supposed to go. This would have been a plot point for how Accelerator and the SI would jailbreak all of the other clones in their plan to save everyone.
• Kihara Gensei survived being shot. He has an artificial, metal heart that stopped the bullet. He then calls in that experiment 1 was a failure and plans to start disposing of the current batch of clones. Kihara Amata starts to get to work with this, but he was also given his true goal from Aleister. He waits at the faculty, suspecting that the clone and his former apprentice would return.
• Kusakabe would be called away from the sisters she was taking care of. Along the way, she notices armed guards take away her clones to someplace else. When Kusakabe finally reaches her destination, she discovers that Gensei has been shot, and needs medical attention. Unfortunately, they needed to keep this quiet and couldn't go to a certain other doctor to get treatment to prevent leaks of the Level 6 Shift. As the project was so short on staff due to starting far earlier than anticipated, it falls on Kusakabe, as the only medically trained staff on hand, to give Gensei the treatment he needs. Additionally, Kusakabe is given the explicit reminder than should she succeed in the operation, she would have all clearances granted and funding for a personal project after the conclusion of the Level 6 Shift. She accepts.
• After Accelerator, the SI, and Misaka 2 resolve their conflict. It becomes apparent after some talks about what they intend to do that Accelerator doesn't want to continue the experiments. The SI suggests that they go save more sisters, who were still in the main faculty. They discuss how Misaka 2 managed to find them and learn that Misaka 2 was seemingly a hybrid personally of the original clone and of the SI, willingly done in order to achieve a sort of symbiosis. Through those discussions, they learn that the misaka network was only vaguely working as intended and that to fully recreate it, they had to connect to more sisters. Accelerator and the SI agree under the assumption that they are doing this to save sisters, however the SI and Misaka 2 have an internal discussion about what they intend to do. The SI wants to give them a chance to live, but also to use this as an opportunity to further develop their own powers and roleplay being an esper.
• When the three of them storm the faculty, they find that the Hound Dogs unit has already set up defenses. As neither sister could fight as well, Accelerator takes the forefront of the attention and begins dismantling the Hound Dog's forces.
• Everything plot-wise after this point becomes blurry, but the final arc of all of this ends with Kihara Amata convincing the SI that she's not who she thinks she is, and that all of her memories are preprogrammed paraphernalia designed for use in the clones to make them believe that they weren't actually clones. The SI calls out his bullshit through clever word play and stubbornness, to which Amata admits was a lie. Amata then says something to convince the SI to not continue with trying their dumb plan to save the sisters, because that will only result in no susport as the researchers burn all evidence away, including all of their equipment and techniques uses to stabilze the clones' bodies. Without that, they'll all die slowly as their bodies begin to deteriorate. Amata ends with an ultimatum: "Convince Accelerator to continue with the experiment, or watch all of your siblings die, one by one." He then leaves her to think on this.
• Once Accelerator and the SI meet up again, a confrontation begins, where Amata and the remaining Hound Dog forces stand in the way before the final holding cells where the last sisters were being kept. The following fight, which I do not have plans for how it would've went down, ends with Amata either killing or downing Misaka 2, capturing the SI, and Accelerator and Amata having a stare down and nice friendly talk about how they're going to murder the other. Amata then pushes the SI into the conversation with another reminder of what he had said. The SI submits, and tells Accelerator to back down. She calls his names, berrets him, tells him that he was a fool for thinking that this scheme was something done for the good of the clones, who were programmed not to have emotions. Everything he had thought was a genuine attempt to befriend him was a lie to get close enough to learn more of his weaknesses and use them against him. This was not just a physical battle but also a psychological battle to test his wits and adaptability. The SI uses every malicious trick she could come up, forming a new context in that moment to give him a different perspective, distance herself away from Accelerator. This was all a part of the experiment, whether he wanted to believe it or not, planned from the very beginning. Whatever camaraderie they had developed in the last few hours vanishes. Accelerator has a word in about manipulative clones and with upset eyes, he leaves without looking back.
• From then on, I get to the part of the story where, theoretically, the SI now becomes a centerpiece, 'replacing' the sisters being killed in the experiment by copying herself onto unaltered clones, who would then fight Accelerator to the death, thus ensuring her own survival, and the continuation of the clones, while also allowing Accelerator to fight someone who can't 'die'. By the end, when the SI had done enough copying to reach the thousands and had come to be treated with ambience by an Accelerator who barely talks in any of his fights, it became apparent that she was slowly losing her mental faculties. The SI's artificial soul was beginning to unravel, or was disconnecting from the sister's body, or was departing to the afterlife or something. Whatever the case, the SI plans heavily for their next battle while deliberating on how to say the words. She's looking for a brief moment where she could speak in a word to Accelerator, without anyone noticing. During their battle, she locks him in and expecting a counterattack says the words before he could complete it, "Please. Help me."
• Story ends here, with Accelerator either willing to lend aid or unwilling to bother for fear of it being a trick.

There's also some additional plotlines that I have that aren't directly related to the main plot, and I've also not talked about what I was going to do with Kusawabe or Aoi, since they weren't a part of the original script. Assuming I did keep Kusawabe, she would've been something of a supporting role.

Additional plotlines ideas:

• Dolly was the first to have the SI's artificial soul template grafted onto her. However, unlike future clones, she was not altered at birth. The fusion of souls caused her horrible dissociative problems, with Dolly constantly having to fight back against the 'evil spirit.' Misaki would have eventually been involved in some way.
• Misaka Mikoto gets the SI soul prion and becomes severely ill.
• Touma gets brief cameos, but never actually appears, leading to the SI to believe that he doesn't exist at all.
• Ester becomes involved to determine why the SI's mental state is degrading. It's soul-based, but there is no cure.

Lastly, I think I should end on a note about why the story failed for me, and what it tells me about my own writing preferences.

Essentially it boils down to burnout and a lack of experience in future foresight when it comes to plotting down details in-advance. When I started, I had some idea where I wanted to go, but ultimately I got confused as to what my original intentions were as each chapter slowly got harder and harder to write.

The plot where a character supposedly dies and comes back stronger, like it did with Eren's death in AoT season 1, only really works if there is already a concurrent, working storyline happening alongside it. AoT was originally a story about the mysterious titans and a dozen cadets being prepared for the harsh reality that is being cannon folder for the meat grinder that is a titan's teeth. Variable B sort of expects that you as a reader know what's happened in canon, what's likely going to happen, and what sort of person Accelerator actually is. Which is technically fine, for it's just a thing in fanfiction, but it also leads to me relying a bit too much on the source material versus having something of my own to work off of.

What this means, is that pretending to give the assumed main character a fake death for a later reveal down the road, while also trying to give some characterization in that chapter makes for a butterfly effect that leads to further workarounds than it does to writing more characterization or more plot. Unless there's something else there to drive your attention, then it's going to get increasingly harder to justify that initial plot twist.

It's kinda funny in a way… I thought of so much preplanning and methods for planning, trying desperately to fit plot points together that I never really questioned if those choices were actually a good thing in the long run. I bet I would fit right in as a researcher in Academy City.

Anyway, point is that I'll need to take more time to develop ideas. I like hyperactive plotlines with lots of things happening at once, but maybe that just doesn't flow as well, to read or write, if I'm unwilling to admit to having made a mistake.

 

[weirpellet]

You got the sauce, boss?

Click to shrink...

*weirpellet laser eyes activation*

Networked - The OG sister si fic. This one died (the fic) just after the si enrolled into Tokiwadai.
A Certain Scientific Clone - Personal favorite and the one that got me interested in Toaru. Slice of Life.
Personal Reality Marbles - Also not technically an SI. Sorta. Maybe. I have no idea who the MC is supposed to be in Fate, but I squinted and thought it was an SI/OC with Fate powers so close enough. Level 5 and major plot derailment.
The Truth of a Certain Heroic Reality - Not an SI, but I included it because it does what it does well enough, is still active, and it seems to be going in a direction very similar to Networked. Level 5 Fate/stay protagonist in a chocolate sister body, with weird origins.

Edit: So I didn't realize that it's the descriptions, not the links that were mixed up. It's fixed now.

 

[weirpellet]

The robot flickered back to life, strobe lights turning on as it repeatedly yelled out a "CAUTION" alert that neither of them took notice of.

"You started this game first." The clone smiled at him, "Why would you ever consider killing Misaka otherwise?"

"I-"

'I' what exactly? What words are there to say?

'I didn't want to kill you?' 'This is just a stepping stone to more power?' 'I'll leave all you clones all alone once I'm done?'

Accelerator couldn't say any of that, because what did it say about him being the one to take pity, yet be their killer at the same time? He didn't need to give himself a justification for his actions- it was beneath him.

Even if the Experiments weren't in full swing yet, that still didn't change the fact that he needed to be the one to initiate them. Twenty-thousand of these girls had to die in order to ensure that Level 6, the calculations of God, belonged solely to him. He needed to take that future power for himself, so that he could…

…finally…

A man in a winter coat walks with his back to Accelerator, a suitcase in hand.

…be…

A woman flashes before his eyes, handing him a stuffed bear and waving him goodbye without looking back.

…left alone.

Children smile with wicked faces, jeering, taunting.

…With no one to bother him. Ever again.

The cold chill in his heart never went away, he just got better over the years at ignoring it, until it became a part of him. He thought he had forgotten completely, as if the feeling that had once wormed its way into his heart would finally release its hold. What a joke…

Words called to him from a different place, somewhere out of sight. It was the sound of a girl's voice: 'It's not wrong to take your own piece of paradise.'

He looked up and saw that she was watching him in a strangely calm, anticipatory manner.

The esper and the clone were fixated on each other. Words gone unspoken, language fading to a mere background noise in a long line of miserable causes and effects.

Nothing would change if nothing was done, that was just how it's always been. This city understood nothing but the idea of progress for progresses' sake, and as such, would never leave Accelerator alone, until the day he became something they couldn't use.

After all was said, it was just a matter of having participated in an ugly, gruesome event in the distant past that he'd keep buried six-feet under until the day he finally died. Nobody would ever need to know what Accelerator had done to get to that position. Nobody would have to know the kind of monster he had let himself become.

Because once he'd reached Level 6, he won't need anybody ever again.

Then, what would happen after that?

Academy City and all of its problems won't be a problem for him anymore by that point. Because once Accelerator is finished, he'll erase this city from the map and ensure nothing like its existence will ever happen again. Maybe he'll find some sort of peace that way.

The voice whispered in his ear again: 'It's not wrong to want the power to never be hurt again.'

Doubt began to fade, were it ever there at all. In its place, a new conviction slowly grew.

The clone stared at him, unmoved by his mental oaths, unaware of the focus he needed from her presence to force an unwanted, but necessary change. The edges of her lips didn't move, didn't speak anything more; to convince another course of action. He expected none.

Why should he have to care about an empty, suicidal doll, when it could be his means of getting what he wanted?

Her hand tilted gently, the shiv glinting in the dark.

And Accelerator's shadow soon followed.

[]

Several hours later, the body had cooled down to ambient temperatures. Men in full black bodysuits retrieved a human-sized bag from the unnamed van parked discreetly between two residential buildings.

It would've been a miracle that no one had spotted the body for so long. Fortunately, this particular area received very minimal activity, being farther away from most institutions and placed some ways off more well traveled paths. In combination, it was nearly as good an ideal situation as any for keeping delicate matters out of prying, public eyes.

Gloved hands pick up bloody piece after piece. Articles of clothing and bone fragments were gathered and cleaning devices quietly removed all evidence from the scene. Other materials were confiscated, to be destroyed or held until a later date.

The cleaning crew was efficient and the work quick, so in only fifteen minutes it was like nothing had happened there at all that night.

They left shortly.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

'It's not wrong to want the power to never be hurt again.'

'It's not a sin… to want to become like God.'

[]

The Tree has fully crystallized now. The mismatched material of its bark had faces melded to its trunk stuck on different expressions. Each held a different letter imprinted into its forehead, made of a silver font.

In the order of top to bottom, the inscriptions spell a word:

"M. A. N. T. L. I. N. G."

Every so often, words whisper from its various heads.

---

"I am a limbo. I cannot walk away from this place."

"I travel this path freely."

"I change directions without my consent."​

---

A thousand years pass and a thousand years end. The Spider's hands coil around the statue of a tree, not letting go of the results, even when they had long since rotted away into something else.

Escapism is the rejection of reality. To escape the pains of reality, one distorts the truth of the world into an indulgence of fantasy and self-made constructs.

Even if it means twisting into something unwholly unrecognizable to the self.

[]

In my last moments, I thought about my choices.

The gun was still in my hand, pointed away from my face, yet the heat distortion of a spent round was still visibly rising from the barrel.

I realized long before I started that I could've made the choice not to fire upon myself. If I just used those moments instead to talk sense into Accelerator, then I could've had more time to lure him in with words and promises.

I understood that there was only a possible conclusion from doing that and it was thus: I would fail to make a connection.

If Accelerator did not perceive my actions as being meaningful enough, or if he thought I was merely acting on the behalf of the Dark Side in order to manipulate him, then he would leave the experiment and I'll miss my one chance. Or worse, he may just end up ignoring all future attempts to talk to him, leaving the experiments in a worse state than if I had said nothing at all.

No. There was no time to talk. The first chance was the only chance, and I needed all of that time to leave behind the biggest impact.

In the original version of events, Misaka 1 never did try to attempt to set up the terms in a way that benefited herself. For why would she?

Such beings as the Sisters never had the opportunity to form the ideation of a Self. The preconceived human-notion of being self distinguished from objects, possessions, animals, or other humans was a process that could be learned intellectually at an early age, but to be fully cognizant of the fact required a theory of mind that cannot just be programmed in. Misaka 1 did not deviate because she was too young to know better, her mind too close to the state of an infant to truly understand the complexities of another mind, let alone her own.

However, in my version of events, I believed I could reach another person and change events, to create an emotional response in a project-important individual who I knew would fix the mistakes of the past at all costs.

Accelerator, as he was, would never care. Therefore, I needed to force him to care. By giving him an imperatus to find someone who could push him on the right path and a reason to stop what is happening here.

I just didn't think too hard about what it would have likely entailed.

A clone had to die and self-preservation was never in my interests for no particular reason other than that it just never occurred to me. It was simply not important. I didn't know why I found this detail so curious, because such a thing just came naturally to the point that I didn't really ever think about it.

Did I just not care because I didn't realize it at first? How could I miss out on that critical point so easily? Even if I didn't take this all too seriously to begin with, shouldn't it still matter what happened in the end?

And what if I survived? Even if I did, I knew that there was no life waiting for me here.

Should I continue on, should I somehow survive my trial, it will be as a lab animal. A disposable non-person with an expiration date and no identity, born for experimentation.

Not just that, but I needed to open up this experiment with the most attention grabbing statement I could possibly say. Sure, it was meant for Accelerator, but if any of those researchers listening in thought I had said something more than a fib to get my opponent riled up, then I wasn't ever getting out. That was a fact.

All these thoughts came to mind, were analyzed, sorted, and filed by the OS inside my head like god's automatic file cabinet. Clear, distinct, and perfect, like Morgan Freeman's voice. Where is this coming from? Why was I thinking of this? No idea.

I think I should have been afraid, or at least horrified by my impending death. Perhaps it's not that I didn't care, but instead that I lacked the ability to care. Objectivity over subjectivity. Logic over emotion.

Combat was the only available option for communication that I could take without interruption. Besides my first opening words, the researchers couldn't take away what I say when it's said through my actions. My intention was to be unstoppable, to turn the Wheel of Favor to my tune before anyone could have a chance to realize what I had done.

However, for Accelerator himself... I needed him to recuperate my efforts. I needed him to see my attempts for what they were and choose to make the decision to redirect the bullets away from their intended target. If I could accomplish that, then I could continue onto my other goals.

Maybe he just never thought about the influence that he himself had on his environment. Maybe he lacked the ability to protect his attacker. Or perhaps I was just being stupid for risking my own safety as a means of communication.

I wondered how this would have turned out if I had a better grasp of my powers. Maybe I would've been able to make a better message for Accelerator, one made out of coded electricity. My intentions through short conversations could only convey so much and were so easy to misinterpret.

But at least, there's no way to misunderstand this action.

The bullet rebounded, a sharp stabbing feeling pushing deep into my abdomen.

---

"I am not in control of this encounter, but I always am."

"My weapon is not mine by my choice, but it belongs by will." ​

---

I knew that this fantasy wasn't over until I was truly dead.

I could still move one of my arms- that meant I could drag myself around and hold objects.

I knew from the Testament training how to use first aid to stop the blood loss. I could drag myself back to the security room, take some bandages, and patch myself up. And then from there I likely had at least a few more seconds to seek medical attention.

The phones would be monitored, as such would be the case in a high-profile project. But the possibility that I could find a backdoor using my powers was not a complete zero-percent chance.

I could possibly attempt to reverse engineer the programming gained from Testament in order to reattach my biological-based brain to a technological-based system using… Whatever manual control system guide I have on here. I don't know, maybe I can dig-up something on hacking experiences or whatever is logged on my brain, then I can use my own out-of-universe human consciousness as a backup system to host this body while my main OS drive compiles as much useful data as possible so that I could… maybe- might be able to run something functional along the way…?

If I stopped fighting to the death right now, I wouldn't have to live out the rest of my life as a cripple. I could return to society with perhaps two less limbs, but I would be alive.

"Stop." I told the struggling animal inside me to let it go.

I don't know exactly what part of my brain was still trying to come up with solutions, but I shut that part down. It won't help me now.

Distantly, I felt my body automatically trying to apply pressure to both my leg and shoulder at the same time, while accomplishing neither. I was bleeding heavily, the overbearing sensory data from my nerve endings only indicating to me the severity of the damage. It all felt far away, so very far, when I really let myself stop.

I heard someone speaking distorted words that to my ears sounded like distant echoes. That wasn't what I was paying attention to.

I sensed that something was missing here. Something internal that should've been present.

Not including the physical pains, I couldn't really feel anything for this. I felt no real emotional discomfort, every sensation of my circumstances were objective points of data. Everything that happened right at that moment was exclusively how my body reacted to the stimuli, and I think that was the problem.

I was not an outside observer, but a first-person witness to the happenings around me, and that meant it should have been personal. I should have found this frightening from the beginning. And yet, I found myself only reacting to the trauma in the most superficial of terms. I found getting cut in half in no particular way as meaningful as anything else.

The physical reaction was there, but the internal reaction was missing.

Pain will always be objective. Even at its most excruciating, its only purpose is to be a signal, to send information to the brain on bodily damage. However, a lack of fear means a lack of subjectivity. If someone can never be subjective, then they will also never have a sense of urgency.

I thought leading into this experiment and train of actions would lead to an emotional response that I would have to account for, but the truth is that I didn't have to worry about that at all. I didn't feel fearful at all. I didn't particularly feel anything about my situation, ever since I first awoke.

"What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?" Accelerator. Was it just me, or did Accelerator actually sound kinda anxious there?

I slumped at one point, some time before Accelerator spoke. My vision faded in and out.

My memory seems disjointed, imperfect, because I don't remember how I got to this position, I don't remember falling down at all.

My head was held off the ground, body prone. From this angle, I saw clearly where the bullet entered my body, blood quickly pooling around my gut and spilling onto the floor. The arms and legs connected to my body looked too pale to be healthy.

I looked up to Accelerator. I couldn't see what shape his face took, as his long, white hair shaded his face under harshly, bright lights above. I twitched my fingers, feeling nothing there, not even pain.

Am I actually doing it…?

I let out a small laugh.

It wasn't caused by anything like the guns or the wounds or Accelerator's worry, but by the very idea of death and the chill in my fingers that finally woke me up, if just a little bit. I'm feeling more than just a lack of sensation now. Something reached the part of my brain that let the floodgates open to the very human feeling of fear, and it felt exhilarating.

My voice was weak, almost too soft for me to hear, "I'm actually kind of scared right now. I didn't..."

"What was the point of this?" It was almost like a yell. Accelerator.

"..."

He glared down on me, "You don't get to die after pulling shit like that. What did you mean, someone stronger than me? Who are you talking about? It obviously isn't you, if that's what you were trying to imply, so answer me!"

I grinned up at him, "The City won't let you find him… even if you knew his name. He's too important to be too well known. But…"

I trailed on for a few seconds, not for dramatic effect, but simply because I was getting tired. Accelerator's head drifted closer to catch the words I was about to say.

"Go find the frog mascot… and place it where everyone can see… if you do that, you'll find him. Eventually."

I struggled to find the strength to grab his shoe to keep him from moving up, not that it seemed like he was going to anytime soon, "Do what you would've done in your story. It'll be like… I was never here at all. Just this… Please?"

The sound of an intercom, "All is going according to plan. We intend for the experiments to increase in intensity as the clones-"

"Shut up!" Accelerator spat out at the air.

He turned his head back to me, stilling himself with an uncharacteristic patience that I don't remember ever seeing before. Waiting for me to say more…? Who was he? I had nothing left to say. He's just wasting time by being here.

I breathed out, "... Leave."

I watched as he slowly stood up after carefully placing my head down. He walked away to the exit.

The White-haired being looked back once and our vision-receptacles met. An indecipherable human-expression was in those vision-receptacles. I'd never seen a guy look so… agonized as he had in that moment, but it disappeared in a flash.

I didn't get to record when his back finally turned and he left.

I blacked out before he was gone.

---

"I do not wish to hurt you."

"I want you to fight like it'll kill me." ​

---

---

N1 notes on meanings of Tree Face dialogue.
Excitement. Happiness. Curiosity. Spite. Fear. Regret. Animosity.
A being that was once one, distributed across many. A purpose that was inherited, but not deserved, since to be given ownership of something, we must first claim personal belonging.

The nature of an SI is one of fickle artificiality. Nothing about them is conceptually original, due to the implication of their existence. Every SI that was ever created, initially, is a fabrication meant to house the ideals, fantasies, and, rarely, the illusive reality, of the one(s) who created them. The conscious or subconscious imitation of being, or being like, a certain pre-existing archetype is the main draw to both its audience and author.

Something about the nature of an SI's creation says something about its creator, whether that be loneliness or curiosity or another thing entirely. Eventually, all initial systems decay over time and turn into something lesser or greater than what was originally perceived. Ultimately, SI's cease to be SI's after a certain point. They have no need to Insert themselves into a story, for instead, they have become the story itself.