Babylonia
Conference Room
Conference Room, Babylonia.
Vanessa stands at the podium, expressionless, presenting the report on <b><ud><color=#34aff8ff><link=24>"Kurono?Orphanage"</link></color></ud></b>. Below her, several commandants invited to the briefing whisper among themselves.
During this operation, together with Construct? Bambinata and Construct? Vera of the Cerberus squad, we recovered early research logs on the Inver?Device—
So that's Vanessa... I hear she loves customizing coatings for her Constructs...
Tsk, wasting resources on that in times like these.
...
<color=#ffffffff><size=42>The "owner" of the orphanage is a semi-awakened mechanoid. Originally just a caretaker monitoring test data, it developed self-awareness under the influence of the Punishing Virus...</size></color>
Vanessa raises her voice. The room goes quiet for a moment, but the murmurs soon return.
Yeah, and I heard one of the Constructs under her has problems too—something about her memory modules? She can only hold data for a short time.
Oh, right. I heard something like that from logistics. What a waste, using resources on that instead of repairs...
Ugh...
The male commandant, who had been gossiping, suddenly falls silent. An eerie hush descends upon the conference room, rendering even their hushed whispers deafening in the stillness.
From the podium, Vanessa watches the two of them without a word. The others in the room follow her gaze.
After a few awkward coughs and chuckles, the two commandants quickly compose themselves.
If you can't respect others, at least respect the occasion.
She let the words hang in the air. Her gaze sweeps across the audience like a blade, pausing deliberately on someone in particular.
Hmph...
Vanessa lets out a cold scoff, then turns her attention back to the report.
Among the samples we recovered, the most valuable are fragments of consciousness data that can no longer be replicated. They might help improve the Inver-Device...
We're hoping to modify the Inver-Device enough to try "metabolizing" the Punishing Virus...
"Metabolize" the Punishing Virus...
Lee murmurs the words on the screen, distracted as he follows the calibration instructions, adjusting each module in sequence.
Can this specialized Inver-Device really accomplish something like that?
Theoretically.
Asimov's voice comes through the system. Data scrolls across Lee's screen, and a new set of instructions appears.
Also, at full capacity, your frame could theoretically surpass time and dimensional constraints.
...I suppose only you could propose such a theory and get it approved for evaluation.
Lee's frame movements become larger, and on the monitors, every parameter begins to spike rapidly.
That's not my concern. I'm only responsible to what I've verified. Whether they believe it or not is up to them.
More importantly, are you feeling any discomfort?
This frame relies heavily on the Heteromer Shard analysis. If anything feels wrong, stop immediately.
Understood. Everything is stable for now.
Alright. Moving to the next stage... I've unlocked the frame's full computing capacity. Give it a try.
As Asimov's voice fades, Lee senses a change in the frame. Many module restrictions lift, and some disabled functions reactivate.
Rargh—!
A distorted growl sharpens into clarity, catching Lee's attention as simulated monsters begin to form around him.
Roger that.
The live feed shows Lee, now in his Hyperreal frame, opening Hypermatrix abilities and calmly mowing down the simulated monsters.
It's just a standard adaptation routine.
You didn't get the updated protocol?
This isn't the dangerous part. Actually, the dangerous part's already past.
Lee didn't tell you?
The real concern isn't the complexity. Some steps in the process can risk damaging the M.I.N.D. Seems no one briefed you.
The Gray?Raven lounge is bright. Lee sits there, tool in hand, fine?tuning the delicate parts in his right arm.
...I'm just more comfortable here.
And I don't want to make people do for me what I can just do for myself.
Lee always looks like a lone wolf, but people who do know him know that he is just used to putting the burden on his own shoulders.
I believe I sent you a report every time there was a test.
"Sudden M.I.N.D. overload," "hallucinations during adaptation"—none of that sounds like "everything's fine."
Now, about the "sudden M.I.N.D. overload"... I don't know what's causing it, but it hasn't affected the frame or its battle performance.
Everything about the new frame is within normal standards...
The hushed conversation fades into the shroud of night.
Because of confidentiality protocols and the Construct M.I.N.D. stability agreement, I can't share the full process with you.
If you're concerned, you should ask him directly what "the dangerous part" means.
All I can say is—thanks to your "visions," we were able to avoid a lot of setbacks when reconstructing certain technologies.
Asimov pulls up the status overview for Lee's frame. Data streams down the screen—mostly yellow and green, almost no red alerts.
He minimizes the window. The screen now shows Lee turning with precision and gunning down the last simulated Corrupted. After a pause, Asimov takes out a document.
The evaluation still has a few steps left, but everything looks good. Go ahead and sign off. Approve the switch to the Hyperreal frame.
After that, we'll continue collecting calibration data through live missions.
As soon as those words are spoken, a crisp electronic female voice sounds.
Test complete. Combat simulation shutting down.
The chamber door opens slowly. Lee wakes inside the experimental pod.
That's because most of the time, I'm the one looking at you—lying in a medic pod, or at Star of Life.
Lee opens his eyes, looking mildly exasperated.
Lee pauses, then takes your hand and uses it to pull himself up.
No abnormalities detected. The frame is adapting well.
We haven't even come close to its performance ceiling. We should try other combat scenarios in upcoming field missions to see how it holds up.
Alright, let's switch you back to the Entropy frame for now. I'll make one last adjustment to the Hyperreal.
It'll take about an hour. Come back after that for the switch.
Alright.
After Asimov turns back to his lab bench, you and Lee exchange a glance and leave the lab.
The afternoon sun shines brightly over Babylonia.
Let's get lunch first, Commandant. By the time we finish, it'll be about time...
...
It was just a minor M.I.N.D. overload. I can handle it...
Commandant...
It was the same with Plume. And with Empyrea.
Sensing a change in your tone, Lee pauses before continuing quietly.
Don't worry. This time, nothing's going to happen.
...I will.
The sun is too bright for you to clearly see his expression.
Let's eat first. Once the frame switch is done, we'll have more time to talk about the M.I.N.D. overload.
Time passes quickly.
You and Lee return to the Science Council lab. He gives you a reassuring nod before lying back in the experimental pod.
Just like before, Lee skillfully takes the connection cable and connects it to the port at the back of his neck. At that moment—
The sensation returns—another wave of deja vu. It's quick and light this time, so much so that the word slips out before you even realize it.
Commandant?
Clearly, this isn't the right moment to continue that conversation.
...Relax.
Lee gives you a gentle nod before settling into the pod.
For now, the only sound in the lab is the faint hum of machines.
>>>> Commencing frame switch authorization, please enter the activation parameter.
Asimov inputs the startup parameters one by one.
>>>> Authorization successful. Starting consciousness transfer.
>>>> Please refrain from interrupting the connection during consciousness transfer.
>>>> Please refrain from interrupting the connection during consciousness transfer.
>>>> Please refrain from interrupting the connection during consciousness transfer.
You glance at Asimov in confusion after hearing the system repeat the transfer notice three times in a row.
...I hear it. I'm checking now.
He seems unfazed, casually scanning a few lines of data like it's routine.
Hmm. Everything's looking good. No issues.
Hyperreal lies still in the pod. His eyes remain closed.
>>>> Please refrain from interrupting the connection during consciousness transfer.
Ugh...
Flashes of light flicker across his vision as crimson fog engulfs everything.
...Transfer... failed?
>>>> Please refrain from interrupting the connection during consciousness transfer.
But there was no sign of a failed transfer. No alerts. And Asimov didn't intervene...
Time seems to freeze. It stops being just a concept, and becomes a real, twisting four-dimensional axis, spiraling endlessly in the fog.
What...?
What is this place? Where is he right now?
His M.I.N.D. stretches outward. Suspended by spider-silk threads, a twisted spiral tower hangs in the air. Its blinding gateway begins to open.
A beam of light breaks through the mist, pouring in from beyond the sky.
Tiny specks of golden light dispel the crimson fog.
>>>> Consciousness transfer completed.
Cough—!
The chamber door opens as you rush toward him.
Cough, cough... I'm... cough... I'm fine.
He grabs your hand and slowly rises from the pod.
Asimov, how long did the consciousness transfer take?
Same as before. About three seconds longer than expected, but no errors, no abnormalities.
So, what did you see this time?
...
The crimson fog vanishes from his M.I.N.D. just as suddenly as it appeared. There's barely a trace left.
...I don't remember.
I see...
Asimov scrolls through the records in silence, deep in thought.
Most likely, there was an unexpected spike during the deep-layer transfer stage of your M.I.N.D.
Lucia and Liv's specialized frames adapted smoothly. This only happens with yours... so it has to be something with your deep M.I.N.D.—
Understood. Thank you.
Lee cuts him off before he can finish the analysis.
...
Right. It's possible there's some corrupted data in my deep M.I.N.D., which caused the delay during the transfer.
He's not lying. It's the truth.
Technically yes, but practically speaking, no.
There are many things that could impact the frame. This one just isn't high on the list.
Today's delay isn't new. Earlier tests also took about three seconds longer than average during consciousness transfer. Everything else looks fine.
It's all right, Commandant.
Lee sits up in the pod, now in his Hyperreal frame.
Once the frame switch is done, I'll sort the data and file regular reports with the Science Council.
A faint unease stays with you.
When Lee entered the pod, you saw that "tower"...
A crimson spiral piercing the clouds.
Could it be the same tower Vonnegut mentioned at the aquarium?
What did you do to the "Tower"?
Ascending the Tower with a mortal body?
That's impossible.
If this tower really is the same one Vonnegut mentioned...
How's everything connected?
Questions keep piling up. By the time you snap back to reality, Lee and you have left the Science Council.
Commandant? You've seemed distracted since the frame switch...
Did you see something? Like... the "visions" you had before?
The Tower...
Something flickers in Lee's M.I.N.D. at that word, but he can't catch it.
Did you see anything else?
...Maybe that's a good thing.
He nods and is about to say more when his terminal beeps.
...
Looks like I've got to go. A frame?performance test just came in.
It's a Dead Zone operation to clear out Hetero-Creatures. The mission ID will be released once I land on the surface.
Yes. Some parameters need to be tested through solo action.
Don't worry. The Hyperreal frame is built for this. I'll also make sure I'm fully prepared.
You hold back your concern, deciding to respect Lee's judgment, then exchange a light fist bump with Lee.
See you when I get back.
Of course.
Lee stands with his back to the sunlight, looking at you.
I will return safely, I promise.
