--Pulsar--

  The Synergist writhed in a seeming choreography of fluid movement over the small groove in the lip of the reanimation chamber. As it flowed out of the oval shaped container its beige and brown shaded rhizines shrank and folded as it left the presence of the grid of lenses bombarding its thalli above, partly to stimulate synthesis but mostly for neural training. Identity and knowledge had been restored, the neurological damage after millions of years of subzero temperatures devastating despite the protective measures employed in the process. Of all the traits affected by the stasis, the memory of UVB (298 nm) 44,761 suffered the worst, their knowledge and experience a vague patchwork of doubt, surety and seeming irrelevance. It was the way of all greater synergists.

  The memory now in place had restored its confidence and resolve. The memory of the UVB before the last stasis era was the identity that scoured, taking back the place in the next nebula as the solids slowly became theirs one by one. Not many environments were denied them if there was something solid to attach to. The lesser synergists would descend in droves, scout and then propagate, synthesizing and growing, expanding across the surface of everything it touched in an organic, patterned growth. The greater synergists would arrive second to appraise and plan, field and follow, their pseudo cybernetic carapaces moving with animal like efficiency like the others under their leadership. As the lesser synergists covered more and more ground, the greaters shifted plans and alternated objectives based on the environment. One planet could take millenia or more to cover. But they covered every world, every time, the only exception being unmentionable as well as almost sacrilege to think of.

  Lesser synergists tended to be almost unaware they had ever had another identity prestasis, their simpler neural structures incapable of extrapolating any kind of personal history from the rare jewels of surviving memory. If a latent ambiguity became too distracting the lifeform could present a request to the greater synergist for a second session, asserting the new post stasis neural training. Some of them might express interest in retrieving the memories associated with the latent thoughts. In such cases the greater synergist ignored the request and scheduled a second training and synthesis session, but made a note of the lesser synergist, waiting for another time to decide if retirement or advancement were the best solution. When that time came it was an almost one to one chance of either outcome if experient roles were available. A great majority of the time they were not and the lifeform was retired anyway.

  The Synergist-UVB had made the request after it’s fourth reawakening and had been advanced, the first lesser of The Spore in thirty thousand years. When they were between planets they kept resource consumption to a minimum. Lesser advancement was costly but it was usually necessary. When a greater synergist became too old it’s thoughts became scattered. The synergist got slower. The central nervous system of the thalli began to break down as they continuously hibernated and revitalized artificially.

  Once all electromagnetic activity within the thalli ceased the synergist was cast aside.

  When the lesser synergists began to age they had the same neural breakdown. The only difference was the lesser synergists seemed more aware of the decrepitude. The greater synergist saw the universe through an embellished ideal and often fixated on that ideal until the very end. It wouldn’t be long before UVB would see that ideal implemented by its own will as it and its lessers swept their way across the surface of a new world to claim.

  The grid of microlenses in the helm chamber it was resting on gave it a sense of orbiting spatial identity around the parent star as it planned the first stages of colonization.

  --Idle--

  Wqwr knew the facility’s automated system was still operational. The resource generation was still functioning, proven by the second plate of klab he’d just finished, instantiated only moments ago. The growing worry after receiving no audible or visual cues from HI for more than thirty minutes had led him to start testing. He’d also been hungry. The successful generation of food had confirmed it wasn’t a problem with the system, only with the holographic intelligence itself, as if it could respond but wouldn’t. So you’ll feed me but you won’t answer my questions, he’d thought. He’d managed to access the ROTS and work with some of the environmental controls, unsure if this was the best idea in case there were factors he wasn’t considering (which were probably many on a planet in a pulsar system).

  Wqwr hadn’t been expecting to find access to the door controls left of the generation chamber. He’d unlocked it, planning to investigate once he had a little more information on HI’s condition. Am I still going to call it that if it never responds again? he thought and almost laughed. The fact that he’d been receptive to anthropomorphising it despite his awareness of it was now a moot point. There didn’t seem to be much sense in preserving its first given name.

  As for the other one he was still unwilling to call upon it and he still didn’t have the slightest idea why. The second time it had responded, when he’d been answering questions for HI had given him just enough food for thought to wonder how he already knew so much without it. With so much knowledge already available on demand, why the need for more and from what seemed like a disembodied persona exclusive to itself? Despite the validity he doubted the questions would ever be answered.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  He planned to make a short study of over a kilometer or more of… what? What was below the facility underground? Why did he seem to think he should have the knowledge yet…

  Void. Wqwr carried on as if the thought had never occurred to him.

  …after he’d bypassed the many floors below him using the lift. The platform, thousands of square danits wide descended the almost two kilometer jump and returned on user command. At least he hoped it did. Who was to say if the imprinting process guaranteed up to date information? The thing could be malfunctioning and he be effectively stuck on the top floor (although he doubted that, sure that alternatives existed like stairwells or access ducts.)

  But what he wanted first was to see what was behind the other single pressure door, the one he’d put off. He might as well. HI didn’t seem to be offering any more support. Wqwr concluded that any definition of appropriate procedure was now fair game, And the most interesting mystery of all was the door across from…

  If the sudden void that dropped like a curtain at the thought of what existed beyond it didn’t spark enough alarm, the fact that earlier he’d unintentionally avoided the subject of… something else until later, did. Then, I could do the testing. So whatever is behind that door couldn’t distract me and that thing could figure out if I was as similar enough to…

  Void. Again, it obscured all thought after the mental reference of the door, but he was figuring out how close to the fence of abbreviated thought he could wander, moving around it. If I just took a stroll back to the generation chamber. Since I’m sure the aurora activity will be fairly regular here I want to familiarize myself with it. And what if…There it was again. Almost redirecting after seeing an object or a concept restricted. The conscious pivot to a neighboring area or idea, keeping him on topic, exploring the facility and becoming acclimatized rather than look.... Where?

  Wqwr, in a moment of frustration cleared his mind. He had knowledge of meditation techniques from all corners of his galaxy. His current mental discipline was unrelated. In fact it simply came so naturally he wondered if there were any history of the practice at all, existing only in his own mind as an untested failsafe. Either way, now was not the time to be asking those questions.

  He decided (right, not left… right, not left… right…) on his original plan. Wqwr walked, only thinking of the generation chamber and what (the room does not exist,) he intended to do there. After arriving he would think about how (I have matters only in the generation chamber… only in the generation chamber… only…) the imprinting process might have proceeded if a specimen were already instantiated and their neural pattern trained (or something else.) Could this (don’t think about it,) affect the existing imprint?

  Locked door.

  The overwhelming abstraction of void suddenly returned and Wqwr was now aware that yet again he was standing on the platform looking out and up at the cloudy, electric sky above, his hand resting firmly on the ironcrete barricade and titanium rail preventing him from falling almost two kilometers down.

  Back here again, he thought. Using misdirection on myself and it backfired. He almost laughed. There is a door and I can consider the door but not…

  He stopped, not wanting the cold, blank, resetlike effect sure to come if he kept on that cognitive path and thought again of the generation chamber. He pivoted away from the titanium rail to return to the facility interior and investigate his point of origin.

  Going back to the beginning. Less than a day old and my life is already a cliche.

  --Instantiation–

  Voice controls were completely locked, as before. After calling for HI and moments later holographic intelligence and receiving no reply despite the established unresponsiveness, Wqwr took his time walking along each of the six vertical faces of the room, looking for anything that might lead him to some kind of equipment interface. There were no seams in any of the panels. The heating units on the walls were completely integrated as was the wash station. Without thinking he went to it and doused his face quickly with water that seemed to materialize out of thin air in front of it. The act was almost instinctual and Wqwr wondered if this was something inherently human or just another side effect of the imprinting process, a random reaction to a cantrip of training data not expected by the engineers who built the biogeneration technology.

  Seeing the water materialize as if from an invisible delivery system was an important step. He’d only put his hands under it and the water had rained like magic over them. The fluid distribution of the wash system was similar to the generation chamber it was housed in, relying on some kind of particle manipulation to instantiate matter in different forms. Same premise, just far less complex, the instantiation of complex life requiring far more regulation and calculation than simply artificially bonding hydrogen and oxygen. If he could find the mechanics…

  There, above the recess of the wash station was a smooth, circular, silvery surface which seemed to harbor no purpose whatsoever aside from aesthetic. Wqwr was almost sure it’s purpose was particle manipulation. Was it completely automated? That didn’t seem likely. With any complex system you needed some kind of basic interface for maintenance and repair.

  When he looked up to the ceiling he noticed what he’d known was already there. The hexagonal, smooth metal about five koldanits above him was obviously where the field was generated. It stood to reason that the machinery supporting it was above it or at least to the sides allowing for some kind of user access. Why would the machinery be above the top floor?

  Why am I assuming I’m on the top floor? he thought. The imagery of the lift controls took his attention and he seemed sure there was an extra floor above them. You never looked at the building behind you either time you went outside. It seemed HI’s curriculum only gave relevance to the areas beneath rather than above. Except for…

  Void.

  Wqwr exited the room and made his way for the facility hub.