Gavin reeled from the onslaught. His mind was paralyzed by the sudden and relentless barrage of data from the now wholly connected gestalt of VIs. His mind was unable to cope with the mass of data, and his vision had become filled with noise. The static reached such an extent that it became a curtain of bright, piercing, white light that blinded him. His hearing berated to such an extent that Gavin thought he’d gone deaf. His brain, unable to handle the influx of stimulus, became overloaded and confused.
Just as Gavin thought he could no longer take the strain, the whiteness began to recede, and in its place was a new torment. Gavin started to see sounds and hear color. Each new noise brought with it a new taste that filled his mouth. He could smell texture and feel words. His world ceased to make any sense as his mind began to crumble under the stress. Forgotten was the Praetorian. Forgotten was Kella. Forgotten was the sense of anxiety he’d been feeling since Kella had thrown that first switch. He even forgot who he was and all that he’d been. Garbled sensation and a world torn asunder was all that Gavin could process. He couldn’t even remember what the world had been like.
He panicked.
He ran from everything. He ran from the noise, the colors, the visions. He ran from his own distorted perceptions. He ran from himself. He ran until he was nearly ready to collapse from exhaustion, but still ran further. With his mind a blank slate, and the distorted reality raging behind him trying to drag him back, he caught sight of something looming up from the chaos and with that sight came a simple feeling. It was a simple feeling of safety; a feeling of home. He ran for that feeling, leaving everything else behind. As he ran further, the feeling coalesced further from the oily darkness and materialized as a small cottage. The door was open, and a calming glow emanated from inside. He knew safety was there, just inside the threshold, but he had to be quick. The chaos was following him, to hurt him, to end him.
He made the door at a full run. He fell over the threshold and tumbled into safety. But the door was still open. The distortion could still creep in and get him. In terror, he kicked out and knocked the door closed, the lock falling into place as the door slammed shut. Finally he was safe. The inky night would not be able to attack him in the cottage. He lay there, his harsh panting disturbing the peaceful surroundings.
Finally, his fear once again in check, he got up. He looked around, exploring his new surroundings, and slowly, things came back to him. He remembered what things were. A stove. A kettle. A bed. A chair. He could put a name to those objects, and things began to make sense once again. But he still couldn’t remember anything beyond that. He didn’t want to. Outside was only pain mixed with confusion and noise. Inside was safety. As long as he stayed inside, he would stay safe.
“Report, dammit,” Hughes called through the vox patch. He’d been waiting to hear from his two subordinates, but the men had been late in calling in. They had reported briefly that shots had been fired, and had gone silent after that. Hughes had been understandably impatient for word from the two men.
“Sorry, sir,” one of the men responded, grunting. “We found the thief, she was hiding down here among the access shafts. We’ve subdued her and are taking her to the brig.”
“What was she doing down there?” Hughes asked. A holo-screen flickered and Hughes looked at it suspiciously. The system had seemed a bit unstable the last few minutes.
“We think she was trying to access the AI Core directly. There’s a physical link-up down here, a whole array in fact, but everything appears to be in order. I’m not sure what all this is doing here, though, sir; it wasn’t on the blueprints.”
“After you dump that rat in the brig, go back and make sure she didn’t install any control boxes, and then get back up here. I still have control over the main systems. As long as she didn’t gum up the works, we can get this mission completed.”
“Understood,” the man said and signed off.
Hughes sat back and watched the holo displays. They flickered infrequently, and Hughes wondered if they had been doing that all along, or if it was something new. The voices were still saying bad things, and they had stopped whispering.
The kettle whistled. He picked it up off the stove and put if off to the side. The little stove was providing warm, comfortable heat to the cottage. He’d found a variety of warm, comfortable blankets and pillows and he’d wrapped himself up in them, as if fending off winter chill. He’d also found a stash of teas in a forlorn looking cupboard, and had picked out one that reminded him of something happy. He couldn’t remember what that happy feeling had been; it was too far off in distant memory, but that really didn’t matter.
He poured the water into a small cup with the tea and smelled the aroma as it filled the cottage. Like everything else in the place, it exuded warmth and comfort, harking back to something he’d long since forgotten. It was on the edge of his memory, but what it was eluded him. He pushed the thought aside and blew on the tea. Holding the cup steady, he buried himself once more in the blankets, sitting before the stove and stared into the lazy flame.
“You can’t stay here forever, you know,” a voice said. Fearing the chaos had invaded his haven, he panicked and stood up, scattering the blankets and dropped the cup. He saw nothing in the cottage, only the dancing shadows from the stove fire.
“Who’s there?” he called out tremulously.
“Only shadows,” the voice responded. “But fear not, I am not the chaos that hunts you,” it said reassuringly after a moment.
“What do you want?” he asked again, finding some strength in his voice.
“The same thing you do,” the voice said again, this time, from another location. Alarmed, he spun to follow the voice, but found only more shadows.
“And what do I want?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Don’t you know?” the voice came back, mockingly.
“Enough,” he said disgustedly, sitting back down and burying himself in blankets again. “I have no time for you.”
“Oh, is that so?” the voice said, still mockingly. “But you have time to sit there like a bug in a rug, staring at a dying fire?”
“Bah,” he said, dismissing the voice. It was only a voice, a trick of shadows, and it obviously spoke only nonsense. There was no reason to continue the conversation.
“So, you’re going to sit here like this? Drinking your tea, and watching that fire? What about food? You do need to eat, you know,” the voice said, coming from another direction again.
“There’s food in here. I can find it like the tea,” he said lazily.
“Ah, I see. So you’re going to hide in here forever, then”?
“What do you care?” he snarled. “You’re just shadow! How dare you question me on my own livelihood!”
“Just shadow, yes. But you still deem fit to answer mere shadow,” it said, sounding wise.
“What?” he asked, taken aback. It had a point. Why was he talking to shadow? It was only fancy, not real. There was no reason to converse with it. And yet, there was something; something from distant memory that called out to him. Something he could do once that he’d forgotten how to do. What was it?
“I asked why you deem fit to answer shadows?” the voice replied again, more insistently, breaking him from his thoughts.
“I need to talk to someone,” he said without realizing it. His own answer surprised him, and he remembered people. He remembered talking to people. It had been something he had enjoyed doing. Memories flooded his mind, swaying to and fro like flowers in a gentle breeze.
“Ah, I see. But I don’t plan on staying here forever. Shadow is fleeting. Didn’t you know?”
“But, after you leave, what then?” he asked, now suddenly worried that he would have no one to talk to; the memories a strong reminder to life now lost.
“That’s up to you, of course. But I can say this: if you stay here, you will be safe, but that is all.”
“Isn’t safe enough?” he asked, doubts creeping in.
“Is it?” the voice answered with a question.
He got angry at the vagary of the response. “It should be!” he shouted back at the shadows, throwing a pillow at them.
“But it’s not, is it?” the voice said solemnly.
“No, it’s not,” he answered, despair filling his voice. “What am I to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t stay here forever, but I cannot face the chaos outside again, either.”
“You can,” the voice said confidently.
“How are you so sure?” he asked, his fears playing out in his mind’s eye. “How do you know?”
“Well, that’s a secret,” the voice snickered.
He balled his fists in anger. “Tell me shadows! I have no time for your games!”
“Strange,” the voice said. “Before, you had no time but for flame and tea, and now, you have no time for those either. Tell me,” the shadow said with a sense of authority. “What drives you to such haste?”
“I-“ he started. It was there, that memory that had been on the edge of his mind recalled. His mind swirled with a sudden backlash of memories.
“You remember,” the voice said knowingly. “So tell me then, what drives you to such haste?”
“I have things I must do,” he said, still sorting through the tidal wave of memories.
“Like what, exactly? Think!” the voice commanded.
“Kella,” Gavin said in full cognizance. He could easily see her face, as if she were standing before him. How could he have forgotten?
“Ah yes. The mercenary girl. Undoubtedly a prisoner of your enemies by now.”
“I must help her!” Gavin said as he realized how he’d left her.
“Indeed. But to do that, you must leave this place of comfort.”
“Where am I? What is this?” Gavin said, taking a look around in surprise, finally seeing the cottage with open eyes.
“You are in the darkest recesses of your mind. You built this place long ago.”
“I did?” Gavin asked, confused. His memories had returned in full force, but some were still in pieces, broken and nonsensical.
“You did,” the voice said. “You’ve been down this road before. It was painful then as well. But you built this cottage from the chaos raging outside, and sought sanctuary until a voice called you from the darkness. That voice now needs your help, and you must face the darkness out there alone if you wish to help her.”
“How do I get through the Chaos?” Gavin asked with his confidence and strength growing.
“That, I do not know,” the voice said softly. “You see, I was the piece you left here.”
“What?” Gavin asked as he turned towards the back wall. From the shadows, he watched as a silhouette detached itself from the back wall and came forward. In the flickering light, Gavin gasped slightly as his own face stared back at him, an exact copy of his own likeness, but merely a shadow of the original.
“I am you,” it said in a voice Gavin now recognized as his own. “I am the piece that you left behind, just in case it was needed. You suffered so greatly during your initial connection to the Gestalt that it very nearly killed you. In your pain and desperation, you built this fortress of comfort and security. It was a small safe haven in your mind that you could retreat to whenever the burden of the real world was too great to bear. You meant it as a temporary refuge, to regain your strength, before facing the onslaught again. It was never meant for you to stay here long term. In fact, you’ve already spent more time here than is safe.”
“Locked-in syndrome,” Gavin said, understanding flooding through him. “Of course.”
“Indeed,” the silhouette nodded. “The longer you stay, the harder it will become for you to leave. If you don’t leave, you will be trapped in your own mind with no way to return. So leave you must, my other self. You must take on the Chaos, and emerge victorious from it. If you do not, you will be lost. We will be lost.”
Gavin inhaled, building his resolve. The voice had been right: he could not stay in his mind forever. He would have to go out and face reality. Gavin suddenly remembered what he had done before. He had laid down a bulwark to reinforce his mind against the gestalt. He only needed to find it again, and fight the Chaos back down to a manageable state. It had been no simple thing stemming the flood before, and it would be no simple thing now. But he had done it once. That meant he could do it again. He reached for the door.
“I see you are resolved,” the voice said.
“I am,” Gavin said, turning back to look at the shadow.
“Then go. And I pray you never return,” it said as it disappeared amongst the flickering shadows. Gavin found himself standing alone in the cottage, with a strange sense of loss. A part of his whole would need to remain, he knew. He opened the door, and stared into light many times brighter than the sun.
“I’m coming, Kella,” he said stepping out into the whiteness and vanished.
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