Chapter 48: The Orpheus Gambit

  ADMINISTRATOR POV

  Something felt different when I opened my eyes this time. It wasn’t a headache, exactly, but some kind of distant throbbing at the back of my mind. This body didn’t feel pain – not in the same way at least – so it was more like a tickling notification that something had changed.

  I also staggered, because I wasn’t on the floor. That confused me as well, because I knew that time had passed here. I had the time dilation when I was in Tastka’s body set very high – ten thousand seconds passed for every second in the Sanctuary – but even at that rate my other self had been awake for several hours, so it should have been at least a second or two here. That was enough time for me to at least start to fall over.

  “Welcome back,” Diamon said, still standing near me and touching the petals of his flower with those squirming tendril-fingers at the end of his main trunk. Maybe it was his alien visage, but he didn’t seem surprised. In fact, after I’d straightened up, he continued, “Your avatar awoke and pulled you back.”

  “Yeah, I know, I was there,” I muttered with a frustrated sigh. “She’s also managing to tap into the tether somehow. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Will I get in trouble for this?”

  Diamon was silent for a few seconds, the petals on that strange flower he held writhing and curling in response to his touches. The mammoth-creature wasn’t even looking at me during this time.

  Finally, he spoke again, “For what is happening, you will not be punished.” His eyes, the more human pair, turned to look at me at last. “Whether you should correct it is another matter, and a decision you must make. You do not have the information needed to make this choice.”

  I collapsed back onto my recliner with a heavy sigh, my arm crossing over my forehead. This was a more human gesture, but my tail was swatting the side of the chair irritably. “So I should just wait it out, that’s what you’re saying?”

  At this, Diamon lowered his flower-interface and turned to… ‘face’ me, such as it was. “I have been given permission to inform you of what you need to know, as the High Administrator said. I will attempt to provide what you need, without influencing your creativity.”

  “And why is that so important?” I demanded, sitting up irritably. My emotions may not be fully there, but this whole mess and repeated insistence was managing to get on my non-existent nerves, somehow.

  I mentally grasped at that. That anger, that frustration. Living as Tastka had let me experience the rush of life again, the volatility of true emotion. Feeling it now, in this sterile existence, was a hint at the humanity – the mortality – I once had. Something in me seized on that flickering spark, some instinct telling me it was important. Needed.

  Yet Diamon, if he noticed at all, showed no reaction to my snapped question, beyond a simple answer.

  “It was not always like this,” he intoned. “When I became an Administrator, the process was very different. The High Administrator guided each one of us through the initial design of our universes and worlds, and gave us options and ideas on how to proceed. We were left to experiment from there.”

  I tilted my head, some of my anger fading away. I grasped at what was left, holding on to it stubbornly, fanning it within, but directed it away. Diamon was attempting to be helpful, far more so than Orpheus. Snapping at him would get me nowhere, and he was willing to speak.

  “For a time, this was satisfying, and we were allowed to create our own worlds, after proposing it to the High Administrator. Sometimes, they would approve, sometimes they would not. We did not understand why… not until later. After Orpheus ascended to High Administrator.”

  This was the first time I’d received confirmation that Orpheus had not originally held the position. I’d guessed it before, but she’d dodged the question. I opened my mouth, about to ask more, but shut it when Diamon seemed inclined to continue anyway.

  The tiny mammoth sighed heavily. “Orpheus was not ready. They tried to do the same, but they lacked the creativity of the previous High Administrator. Naturally, they attempted to replicate the most successful universes in creating energy, and new Administrators were brought in and trained on those.”

  He made a gesture at his flower with his left trunk, and a few petals glowed. “That is when we painfully discovered, at great cost, why the original High Administrator had curated our creations. When a universe is designed too similar to another, it is conceptually drawn to the older universe, where it is collapsed and consumed. This does strengthen the old universe, but does little to help long term generation of energy.”

  I blinked, and also felt my ears and tail-tip both quiver with agitated befuddlement for a moment. Diamon had paused, watching me… probably to see if he needed to tell me more.

  He did not. It clicked in my head suddenly, as I slowly theorized, “So she removed the training course and threw all us new Administrators out without guidance, hoping for something new.”

  “Correct,” the alien praised. His right trunk lifted in a small gesture I somehow understood to be frustration. “This has led to a high failure rate. Although new Administrators are advised that their original universe configurations are suboptimal, many fail to differentiate themselves sufficiently, and their nascent universe is absorbed. Those who do succeed in making something new often fail to design it to be sustainable.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees, and cradled my head in my hands. It was absurd, but I knew what was happening. The birth of universes, entire populations of sapient beings… reduced to the cosmic equivalent of throwing whatever they could find at the wall to see what sticks. It was so sloppy and… and it reeked of…

  Desperation.

  My head jerked up and I stared at Diamon in new understanding. “You need more energy. The Cluster I mean. Why can’t you just optimize the old worlds? The successful ones? Are you and the other Administrators just not able to be creative enough to make new worlds?”

  Diamon’s trunk-finger-tendrils flexed in his own expression of annoyance. “Not entirely. I myself have created two new worlds that were sustainable… although one is barely positive.” His left trunk gestured at my Sanctuary. “But even the most stable universe needs occasional maintenance. The Administrators are much fewer in number than the worlds we tend.”

  Then he paused, and added more quietly, “It is also imperative that Orpheus finds someone capable of some novel approach that still lies within the foundational rules of the Orpheus Cluster. They require a high-energy universe, and relatively soon. You have progressed much faster than most, and are a prime candidate.”

  I frowned back at him, my tail starting to thump agains the chair more loudly. “Time is a little relative here anyway, and why does she need so much? This is a huge gamble hoping for a big score. It seems too risky.”

  “It is a risk,” Diamon agreed. “The reason for it is not your concern. It is our task to shield you from the need to know that information… for now. It would be best if you concentrated on what you can do to increase this world’s generation.”

  He gestured to his flower-interface, continuing, “You have several elements with potential here, despite having some flaws. This incentive system you have created has also led to a nearly unique relationship with your avatar, one which is dangerous… yet holds potential.”

  “It wasn’t intentional,” I muttered. “The incentive system isn’t even quite complete. I just haven’t figured out how to make it more compelling.” Then I frowned. “I do have an idea, but I’m not sure it will be worth it. But tell me why this might be a good thing, first?”

  Diamon flexed his trunk again, his ears twitching with something akin to… excitement. “You do not seem to understand the importance of what you have done here. I will need to analyze the process further next time. Please slow down the time dilation somewhat so I can observe. A one to five ratio should be slow enough.”

  “Quit dodging the question,” I grumbled, making a sharp ‘cutoff’ gesture with my hand. “This is really worrying me, what’s the potential here? And the risk?”

  The mammoth’s trunks on either side rose in a gesture of apology. “The risk is that your avatar’s connection will bleed back further. We have seen no evidence of this happening, but it has happened in previous similar instances where this was intentionally attempted. For now, the only feedback appears to be instinctive biological tendencies, and this is normal for the method you are using to maintain activity in Sanctuary. As long as it remains limited to that, there is no risk.”

  He lifted the flower and turned it to face upward. Above it, a flickering three-dimensional display appeared. It was primitive, consisting of three glowing dots.

  “As for why it is important, presume the following situation,” Diamon explained. “Three sapient beings. One of these is the leader of a large community, and keeps them satisfied yet stagnant. Very low energy gain.”

  One of the dots turned from white to blue, to indicate the one he was talking about. Another dot nearby then turned green, moved toward the blue dot, and the blue dot disappeared.

  “Another being chooses to eliminate this leader. This causes chaos, but possibly the advancement and dramatic change in the civilization. A relatively large energy gain for a single, simple action. But consider a third being…”

  The dots returned to their original positions, the blue dot reappeared, and then the third dot turned yellow. This time, the green dot moved forward and the yellow dot moved to block them.

  “In this case, the attempt to eliminate was made, but a third party interrupted. This also creates a burst of energy, but let us presume that long term the situation returns to stagnation. A small upswing, but insignificant long term.”

  Now the dots reset again, but this time a fourth dot appeared, colored red. Again, the green moved to eliminate the blue, while the yellow moved to intercept. This time, the red stopped the yellow from interfering.

  Diamon narrated, “In this case, a proxy avatar was present and chose to interfere. An external being interfering like this disrupts the natural flow of energy that results from this. It may still be net positive and superior to stagnation long term, but the increase is dramatically less than before.”

  “Yes,” I interrupted. “I read the manual. That’s the problem with proxy avatars, that’s part of what makes incarnates so tempting.”

  “Correct,” Diamon agreed, and the dots reset again. This time the red dot moved right up to the blue and eliminated it. “Incarnates are unpredictable. In this situation, the incarnate, unaware of its origin, removes the leader. Though the indirect effects of this likely still generate more energy, the most dramatic amount is nullified due to the avatar itself acting. But consider this situation…”

  This time the dots reset, and the green moved toward the blue. The yellow moved to stop, and the red moved to block the yellow. The green successfully eliminated the blue this time.

  “In this case, the incarnate acted to prevent the interruption of the first. This allows the original attempt to go through, of its own free will, without direct action by an external entity. The indirect action results in a slight loss of energy, but the majority of it remains.”

  I nodded, “Yeah, because incarnates don’t leave as big an imprint or something… I don’t quite get why but I understand that.”

  Diamon dismissed the image and looked at me directly. “Yes. But incarnates are unpredictable because they are fully cut off from the knowledge that would let them make an informed decision. But what if through indirect means one could give more context, if not control their decision?”

  And that’s when I realized what he meant. My ears lifted with dawning realization. “It’s a cheat. This could let me use my incarnate avatars to influence events without losing the energy!”

  “It is only a hypothesis,” Diamon hastened to remind. “But I believe that is so, yes.”

  This brought me to stand up and start to pace from side to side, my tail lashing as I considered the possibilities. “I see what you mean. It’s risky but if it can happen… that could be powerful. Even with the limitation only doing it one lifetime at a time.”

  Diamon’s trunks moved in an affirmative, “Yes. This is why I would like to observe it for longer as your avatar is active. We should gather more information, first.” His large ears lifted and turned toward me. “In your remaining time, perhaps you could tell me of this potential incentive system?”

  I smiled, without showing teeth, and my ears lifted… a dual smile in human and elf. “Oh. Yeah, it’s a part of the whole system idea, really.” I opened up my interface and gestured with my tail at his flower, so he could watch.

  “Let me tell you about… quests.”

  Why Do We Roam?