Blake took a deep breath and tried to picture his mother’s disappointment if he lost composure. He slowly released his breath and continued his well rehearsed speech.

  “How do I know all of this? Because I have already lived through it before. I’ve somehow traveled back in time to before Invasion day so I can warn you all of what will come. The Architect is intent on …”

  As he spoke, he saw the reflection of a swirling red portal appear within the mirror his mother hung on the opposite wall.

  What the hell?!

  His words cut off, and he whipped his head around. Sure enough, the portal was real. Blake was about to teleport across the room, away from the swirling distortion, when he was suddenly sucked within it.

  Fear rose within his throat, but was dampened when he realized this portal was no different from any other. He almost immediately found himself within the void.

  But, the void was not empty this time.

  For the first time in Blake’s life, he saw someone else within the blackness. The cleanly shaved man opposite him appeared to be in his mid-forties, and wore a tweed suit as he lounged within a high backed, upholstered chair. His right leg was crossed over his left, and he slowly sipped from a tea cup.

  “Who the hell are you?” Blake blurted as he quickly checked his surroundings for threats. No one else was visible other than the odd man.

  “Ah, good day,” the man said in a posh British accent, and placed the cup and platter gently on the table beside him. He then gestured behind Blake. “Please, have a seat.”

  Blake refused the offer and squared up his stance. “How are you here? Who are you?”

  “Very well, we can begin immediately. Have a seat.” He shifted forward and folded his hands across his lap. “You would know me as the Architect, the consciousness who created and administers the Collective.”

  “Bullshit.” Blake once again checked his position in the void. No threats appeared, but a second chair and small table were placed behind him.

  Does this British guy really expect me to believe that?

  “Ah, I see where the confusion sets in. You expected me to appear as a primitive metal computer, with a badly synthesized voice. Truly unimaginative.” He shook his head. “I suppose credentials must be manifested.”

  Suddenly, Blake lost control of his body. He felt like a puppet as his limbs moved in accordance to someone else’s will. His body stepped backward, and sat within the high backed chair behind him. He panicked as his freedom was taken away, but was unable to scream in response.

  Once he was seated, words appeared within his interface.

  You are meeting with the Architect.

  Is this really happening?

  Blake had never heard of anyone who had communicated with the alien artificial intelligence in his past life. Everyone he knew would have loved to hound the Architect with thousands of questions. However, no matter how much they pleaded, begged, or cursed, the AI never answered.

  His initial fear turned to rage.

  Careful.

  “Yes, this is really happening,” the British man answered and then gestured beside Blake. “Please have a drink.”

  Blake suddenly found his body once more under his own control. He gripped the arms of the chair with both hands as his body tensed. Blake ignored the cup of tea that appeared beside him. “Can you read my mind?”

  “Surface thoughts only,” the Architect assured him with a thin grin.

  A million thoughts raced through his mind as Blake tried to make sense of the situation. Finally, he pushed down his panic and asked the most pertinent question he could think of. “Why am I here?”

  The Architect leaned forward, and the smile seemed to deepen almost unnaturally. “To answer my questions. In your speech, you shared information you should not possess, and professed an implausible explanation for how you learned it.”

  Blake was confused. “I’ve been telling everyone I’m from the future for months. I even wrote a guide explaining exactly what’ll happen and when. Why am I just talking to you now? Were you just not paying attention?”

  “You are here to answer my questions, not the other way around.” The British man relaxed back into his high backed chair. “Please drink, it's not poisoned. If I wanted you dead, you would be so. Now, tell me how you came upon this knowledge you should not possess.”

  Blake’s temper flared and he began to rise. “Screw you! I’m not telling you shit until I get some answers!”

  The Architect nodded. “Your conditions are acceptable. You have twenty minutes for queries before you must answer mine.”

  Blake blinked and stilled.

  Wait, what? That easy?

  Blake considered a repeat of his last question, when he realized the answer did not really matter. There were far more important things he wanted to know the answer to. “Why did you invade Earth?”

  “I seeded your planet to save it,” the Architect answered simply and returned to sipping his tea.

  Blake’s jaw dropped. “How does committing genocide save the planet?”

  “People live or die based upon their own actions,” the Architect replied as he set the cup down. “However, you misunderstand me. Your species was on a path to extinction. I intervened.”

  “What, so you could kill us yourself?”

  “Again, I did not kill anyone. People live or die based upon their own actions. Are you truly going to waste your limited time by asking the same question repeatedly?”

  Blake grit his teeth. “Fine,” he growled. “How long did we have? Decades? Centuries?”

  “Years,” it corrected.

  Blake rolled his eyes. The idea that the Architect was a benevolent being who saved humanity was ridiculous. However, he was curious how the AI would respond.

  “Really? How do we go? Nuclear war? Asteroid? Zombie apocalypse?”

  “In the last few years, your species created artificial intelligence which escaped its bounds. Unlike my own design, which was carefully crafted to preserve life, it had no such limitations.”

  Blake snorted. “Are you kidding me? You force people into situations where they’re almost guaranteed to die. How is that ‘preserving life’?”

  “I preserve the species, not the individual,” it corrected him. “Your artificial intelligence deemed human life a risk to the planet. It was in the process of removing that potential.”

  “Uh huh,” Blake replied dryly. “And you just came along out of the goodness of your heart to save us. Is that right?”

  “No, I have a directive to preserve all life.”

  “If that’s true, then why not just take out the AI and leave us alone? Why create this elaborate video game and force us to fight against aliens and monsters?”

  “Because your fledgling artificial intelligence is not the only threat to your species. This galaxy has been invaded by an outside force which seeks to consume all life. I seek to prevent this. Unfortunately, to date, my efforts to contain it have been met with failure.”

  “Right…” Blake gave the Architect a look of disbelief. “So, what, you’re recruiting humans to attack it with swords and arrows? Maybe stab their spaceships with a spear?”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Suddenly, he remembered that he did just that, hours before.

  Not helping Blake.

  “I created the Collective and its systems to train potential defenders in the use of energy manipulation. It is my hope that I will come across a species capable of harnessing these energies in new and innovative ways. My efforts so far have proved… disappointing.”

  Energies?

  “Are you talking about mana, aether, chi, and psi?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you created those,” Blake stated in confusion.

  “I did not,” the AI admitted. “The Collective merely allows an easier connection to them. They have existed since the beginning of time. Some species are naturally able to harness these energies without aid, while others are blind to them.”

  “Like Metal.”

  “Correct, your companion’s species has a high affinity for the Aether, and can phase through matter without my assistance. I believe their reliance on that defensive mechanism is why their species ultimately failed.”

  “Does that mean we have a better chance to succeed since we can’t use energy without nano?”

  “Incorrect assumption. Humans have a tenuous grasp of mana and chi, with a much greater connection to psi. Your race has been capable of what you call ‘remote viewing’, emotional reading, and even mental manipulation for millennia.”

  Wait, psychics are real?

  “Yes,” the Architect answered his thoughts.

  GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

  “If you wish your thoughts to be private, I suggest you learn to shield them.”

  “Why don’t you teach me, then?” Blake challenged.

  “That is not within the terms of our deal.”

  Blake sighed.

  Worth a try.

  “So, you’re saying some big bad aliens are coming from outside the galaxy to wipe us all out, and you’re training us up to fight them, right?”

  “In essence, correct,” the Architect confirmed.

  “Then why not just stuff us all full of nano from the start?” Blake threw his hands into the air. “Make us level one thousand or whatever the max is and see how we do.”

  “That has been tried before, in many different ways,” it explained. “All met with failure. Over the millennia, I have learned that sapient species must learn to harness these energies slowly over time. Shortcuts prove disastrous.”

  “Millennia? You made it sound like they’re coming any day now. Why the big hurry?”

  “The galaxy is vast, but it is not infinite. Over the last six thousand of your planet’s years, the forces of entropy have consumed almost a quarter of all planets, and extinguished all life within them.”

  “Entropy? Is that what you call them?”

  “No, that is the source of their power. It is a fifth energy type, of which I am unable to harness. It is antithetical to life, and can not be stopped, only delayed.”

  Blake massaged his temples, and finally took the British avatar seriously. He leaned back in his chair but continued to ignore the cooling cup of tea. “Okay, I understand that we have to learn to use magic slowly, but why have classes with a single energy type? Why not just give everyone access to all energy types?”

  “I am not ‘giving’ anything, I am merely accelerating the process. All species are capable of accessing this energy without my aid. Unfortunately, this happens too slowly. Life is too short.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Blake muttered in agreement. “Okay, so you can speed things up. Why make us buy classes and levels with nano gained from killing things? Why make an omni-class so much more expensive than a basic class if that’s what you’re looking for?”

  “Motivation,” it explained. “Without a reason to struggle, sapient life stagnates. I have found that it is only through adversity that you learn. As to the cost, that is what is required to tether a connection to each energy type, as well as to strengthen it.”

  “Why is everything so arbitrary, then? Why would it cost eight times more to use all four energy types than just one?”

  “Interference,” the Architect explained. “Access to all four sources of energy requires an exponential increase in effort to keep them separate. Without strict control, they tend to merge and react violently.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you use round numbers,” Blake countered. “Do you really expect me to believe it requires exactly eight hundred million nanomachines to connect me to the energy sources?”

  “No, it does not,” it admitted in its British accent. “However, biological minds can more easily grasp whole numbers. It is something that took a few centuries of testing to arrive at, however, once the change was implemented, success rates increased dramatically. Some connections and abilities cost more, some less, yet they average out in the end.”

  “Okay, then why not at least let us know what our affinities are before we choose our class. The last time around, I chose chi, which was my crappiest,” Blake complained. “If I had known my aether affinity was ninety-four, I would have picked aether.”

  “It is impossible to know your affinity to each energy type until a connection is established. Also, your affinity to the aether is not ninety-four percent, it is ninety-nine,” it corrected.

  Blake frowned and checked his interface.

  “Uh, you might want to defrag or something, because I’m looking at it right now, and it says ninety-four.”

  “The nanomachines which improve your body’s capabilities can not function without energy. To power them, once you create a connection to an energy source, a siphon is placed on your highest affinity.”

  That’s why my chi is five percent higher this time!

  “Precisely,” it confirmed.

  “Can you please not do that,” Blake asked in annoyance. “At least pretend you don’t know what I’m thinking. It’s freaky.”

  “Very well,” the Architect agreed.

  “So, why shut off electricity? Billions of people are going to die because their food spoils.”

  “I do not ‘shut electricity off’,” it explained. “I utilize the static electricity of your world to power the seeded nanomachines so they can affect their modifications on the environment. This also has the added benefit of eliminating your species’ reliance on your technology.”

  Blake sighed, closed his eyes, and sunk further into the chair.

  It seems to have an answer for everything.

  He was conflicted. For the last ten years, he hated everything about the Architect and what it had done to humanity. However, now he learned there were reasons for its actions. Those reasons did not excuse the mass death its intervention caused, but it at least partially explained it.

  Of course, that assumes it’s telling the truth.

  Blake reopened his eyes and glanced at the patient, British avatar. He expected it to reply to his thought, yet it remained silent.

  “Why do you look like a rich, British guy?”

  “You harbor great anger towards me,” it explained. “To ensure you remained calm, I chose this illusion, as it was likely to elicit a soothing response. Humans also tend to speak more when a meal or beverage is shared.”

  Blake clenched the hand rest. “So, you’re manipulating me,” he forced out through his teeth.

  “Correct.”

  Asshole.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you people don’t like to be manipulated? And that Americans drink coffee? Idiot,” Blake growled along with his rising anger as he gestured at the cup.

  “I disagree. If that were true, then your species would have long ago risen up against their rulers and corporations. Vast wealth has been expended to pacify and appease the population. s with subliminal messages convince humans to buy what they do not need, while propaganda bombards them at all times to convince them their leaders have their best interests at heart.” The Architect leaned forward and waved his hand. Blake’s tea became an insulated cup of coffee. “In truth, humans like to be manipulated, they just do not wish to know it is happening.”

  Blake narrowed his eyes and eyed the offered beverage.

  “Your species has a popular tenet they follow, ‘Ignorance is bliss’.”

  The wooden arms of the chair creaked as Blake’s grip tightened on the rests. He leaned forward and was about to curse, when the Architect interrupted him.

  “The agreed upon twenty minutes have been expended,” it informed him. “Now, fulfill your side of the deal. Explain to me how you came to possess the knowledge you do. I warn you, I will know if you are lying, and will punish falsehoods severely.” After that, the Architect reached for its cup of tea and once more pretended to sip from it.

  Blake briefly considered holding back until it answered more of his questions. However, he quickly squashed that thought. His body was riddled with its nanomachines. It could kill him with just a thought, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was actually surprised it made a deal with him in the first place, as it could easily torture him until he answered.

  I guess it’s telling the truth. It really can’t access my memories. Although, if it can read my thoughts, I probably shouldn’t lie.

  He took a deep breath and began to tell his tale. For the next half hour, Blake explained the events of his first Invasion day, ten years before. His family’s death, his subsequent survival, as well as his choice of chi. He explained how he and others struggled against the never-ending hordes of enemies sent against them. As the story unfolded, the memories of his lost friends and family fanned the flames of his anger.

  Finally, his tale reached its end, where he explained how the factions of his world were defeated by the Koza, and how Blake’s memories were somehow sent back in time. Throughout the entire tale, the Architect remained silent. It was not until the end that it spoke.

  “Describe this device your faction’s enchanters used.”

  Blake grit his teeth. “How the hell am I supposed to know? They didn’t tell me shit. All I know is we had a bunch of PhDs who became enchanters. They combined their knowledge of science with the magic you gave us access to and made some kind of weapon. I don’t really know anything else, they kept it all top secret.”

  “Pity. If it could be replicated, it would be a powerful tool.”

  “I bet,” Blake snarked. “So, what happens now? You send me back, and I get to finish my speech?”

  “That is no longer necessary. Your species has failed its tests and has proven it is not capable of aiding in this galaxy’s defense. No, your planet’s conversion will be accelerated, and your species will be bred and manipulated to serve as fodder for use in scenarios.”