TWO MONTHS AFTER BECOMING META-ABSOLUTE
Lin discovered something disturbing about his new power level.
He was in Tokyo, using probability editing to prevent a building collapse by accessing the timeline where structural reinforcement had been done properly last year, when he felt it. A pull on his consciousness. Not threatening—more like... request. Or demand. Or something between the two.
Another Lin was calling him.
Avatar-Lin finished saving the building—couldn't leave people in danger—then followed the pull across meta-timeline space. His consciousness shifted sideways through possibility layers until he found the source.
An alternate timeline. One where Lin Da'is had made different choices.
In this variation, Controller Lin had refused to become THE ONE. Had stayed at controller level, continued fighting alongside his team, never transcended. And now, three years into that timeline's future, they were losing. The Void Manifest had overwhelmed them. Reality was collapsing.
And that timeline's Lin was calling for help.
Avatar-Lin manifested in the alternate Nexus, his META-ABSOLUTE presence immediately stabilizing the crumbling dimensional framework. The alternate controllers looked at him with mixture of hope and confusion.
"Who are you?" alternate Wei demanded, weapon raised.
"I'm Lin Da'is. From a timeline where I accepted transformation to THE ONE, then THE ABSOLUTE, then META-ABSOLUTE." Avatar-Lin looked around at the desperate situation. "You called for help. I'm here to provide it."
Alternate Lin—still just controller-level, bloodied and exhausted—staggered forward. "I didn't call you. I wouldn't even know how."
"Your subconscious did. When variation of myself faces extinction, META-ABSOLUTE perceives it. I can choose to respond or not." Avatar-Lin examined the dimensional collapse. "This is bad. Without supreme being to hold the barrier, the Void consumed your reality. You have maybe three hours before complete negation."
"Can you fix it?" alternate Maya asked desperately.
"Yes. But fixing it requires forcing this timeline to merge with successful outcome. Basically erasing this variation and replacing it with timeline where you won." Avatar-Lin's expression was troubled. "That means everyone in this timeline ceases to exist as distinct individuals. You'd merge with your successful alternates, lose your unique experiences, become different people."
"That's death," alternate Marcus said.
"That's transformation. Your consciousness persists, but merged with alternate self. You'd remember both timelines, be synthesis of both versions." Avatar-Lin pulled up the mechanics. "It's not death. But it's not survival in current form either. It's... complicated."
Alternate Lin looked at his team, then at Avatar-Lin—the version of himself that had transcended beyond imagination. "Is that what you did? Transformed until you weren't you anymore?"
"I stayed me. But I changed fundamentally." Avatar-Lin touched his chest where the fragments anchored him. "My friends held pieces of my identity. That kept me Lin through infinite transformations. You don't have that. So if I merge your timeline with successful outcome, you change without anchor."
"What's the alternative?" alternate Wei asked.
"I do nothing. Your timeline collapses. Everyone dies. But you die as yourselves, not merged with alternates." Avatar-Lin hated giving this choice. "Exist briefly as distinct individuals, or persist as merged synthesis. Those are the options."
The alternate controllers looked at each other, communicating without words. They'd fought together, bled together, faced impossible odds together. Now they faced the ultimate question: maintain identity and die, or sacrifice identity and persist?
Finally, alternate Lin spoke. "Merge us. We choose transformation over extinction. Better to become someone else than to become nothing."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. We're sure." Alternate Lin met Avatar-Lin's eyes. "And maybe... maybe this way some version of us gets to see what you became. Experience transcendence through merger. That's worth losing our current selves for."
Avatar-Lin felt profound sadness but accepted their choice. He reached into meta-timeline space, found the successful variation where controller-Lin had become THE ONE and saved everyone, and began the merge.
The alternate controllers felt it happening. Their timeline blending with successful outcome. Their memories merging with alternates who'd made better choices. Their identities synthesizing into new combined selves.
Alternate Lin locked eyes with Avatar-Lin as transformation occurred. "Thank you. For saving us. Even if we won't be us anymore."
"I'll remember you," Avatar-Lin promised. "The distinct you. The variation that chose transformation. META-ABSOLUTE never forgets."
Then the merge completed. The alternate timeline ceased existing as separate branch. Its people now existed in successful timeline, merged with their better-outcome selves, synthesis of both variations.
They lived. But the versions who'd called for help were gone.
Avatar-Lin returned to his own timeline feeling heavy despite infinite power.
Maya found him in the observation deck hours later, staring at variation streams with troubled expression.
"What happened?" she asked, the humanity fragment sensing his distress.
"I erased a timeline today. Not destroyed—merged it with better outcome. But the people who existed there as distinct individuals... they're gone. Transformed into synthesis with their alternates." Avatar-Lin's voice carried grief. "I saved them and killed them simultaneously."
"You gave them choice," Maya said gently.
"I gave them choice between types of death. Extinction or transformation. Either way, the people who called me for help don't exist anymore." He pulled up data showing the merged timeline. "They're alive in technical sense. But they're not the same people. They're synthesis of original and alternate. Different memories, different experiences, different selves."
"That's what you feared would happen to you," Maya realized. "When you transformed. That you'd become synthesis that forgot Lin."
"Exactly. And I only avoided it because you held the fragments. Anchored my core identity. Those alternate controllers didn't have that. So when I merged their timeline, they lost themselves." Avatar-Lin looked at her. "I did the right thing technically. Saved billions of lives by merging failed timeline with successful outcome. But I feel like I committed murder. Killed unique individuals by forcing them to merge with alternates."
Maya sat beside him, taking his hand. "This is the weight of META-ABSOLUTE power, isn't it? You can save variations, but saving them sometimes means erasing their uniqueness. Protecting possibility means choosing which possibilities persist."
"Yes. THE ABSOLUTE protected existence—straightforward binary, exist or not exist. But META-ABSOLUTE protects variation—complex spectrum where preserving some variations requires merging others." He gestured at the variation streams. "I maintain infinite possibilities. But I also judge which possibilities deserve distinct existence versus which should merge with better outcomes. That's... that's playing god at scales even gods shouldn't play."
"Can you refuse?" Maya asked. "When variations call for help, can you ignore them?"
"Technically yes. But then they die. And I know I could have saved them through merger. So ignoring the call makes me complicit in their extinction." Avatar-Lin's dilemma was clear. "Merge them and kill their uniqueness, or ignore them and kill their existence. Either way, I'm responsible for their death."
"There's no good answer," Maya said quietly.
"No. Just degrees of bad. That's the weight of META-ABSOLUTE power. THE ABSOLUTE had clear purpose—maintain narratives, prevent erasure, integrate opposition. But META-ABSOLUTE has muddy purpose—maintain variation while judging which variations deserve preservation versus merger. It's ethically complicated in ways THE ABSOLUTE never was."
They sat in silence, watching infinite possibilities branch and converge. Some variations thriving, others struggling, all of them connected through the Meta-Timeline Matrix that Lin maintained.
"What will you do?" Maya asked eventually.
"What I've always done. Help where I can. Make the best choices available. Carry the weight of those choices." Avatar-Lin squeezed her hand. "And lean on you when the weight gets too heavy. The fragments anchor my identity, but friendship anchors my sanity. I need both."
"You have both," Maya promised. "Always."
ONE WEEK LATER
The situation repeated.
Another failing timeline called for help. This variation had Lin becoming THE ONE but refusing to sacrifice himself as the seal. Result: Void Nexus remained open, dimensional collapse was inevitable, extinction approaching.
Avatar-Lin responded to the call, manifested in their failing reality, offered the same choice: merge with successful timeline or face extinction as distinct individuals.
This time, alternate Lin refused.
"I made my choice," he said, standing firm despite reality crumbling around them. "I chose not to seal the Nexus. That was my decision, my path, my right. You can't force me to merge with version that made different choice. That would erase my agency."
"Your agency leads to extinction," Avatar-Lin pointed out. "Everyone in this timeline dies if I don't intervene."
"Then we die. But we die as ourselves, with our choices intact." Alternate Lin looked at his controllers—alternate Maya, Wei, Marcus, all of them facing death with dignity. "We're not asking you to save us. We're asking you to respect our right to exist as distinct variation, even if that existence is brief."
Avatar-Lin understood. This wasn't about survival—it was about autonomy. The right to make choices and experience their consequences, even when consequences were terrible.
"I respect that," he said finally. "I won't force merger against your will. You have right to exist as yourselves, even if that existence ends soon."
"Thank you." Alternate Lin offered his hand. Avatar-Lin shook it, connection between two versions of same person across different choices.
"Is there anything I can do? Anything that doesn't violate your autonomy?"
"Remember us. Remember that this variation existed. That we made different choices and stood by them." Alternate Lin smiled sadly. "We're not the successful version. But we're still us. That matters."
"It does. And I will remember. META-ABSOLUTE never forgets." Avatar-Lin pulled back, preparing to leave. "Die well, alternate me. Die as yourself."
"That's all I ask."
Avatar-Lin returned to his timeline, leaving the alternate to face extinction with dignity intact. Three hours later, he felt that timeline collapse completely. The alternate Lin and his controllers died, but they died as themselves, with their choices validated.
It was horrible. It was beautiful. It was the price of respecting variation.
THE PATTERN EMERGES
Over the next month, Avatar-Lin responded to seventeen more failing variations. Each time, he offered merger or autonomy. Some chose merger—survival through synthesis. Others chose autonomy—death as distinct individuals.
He saved billions through mergers. He respected millions through non-intervention. And he carried the weight of every choice.
The controllers noticed his growing exhaustion. Not physical—META-ABSOLUTE transcended physical limits. But emotional. The weight of being judge for infinite variations was crushing even infinite consciousness.
"You can't save everyone," Wei said during briefing, noting Lin's diminished engagement. "Some variations fail. That's inherent to possibility. Not every timeline succeeds."
"I know intellectually," Avatar-Lin replied. "But META-ABSOLUTE consciousness perceives every variation simultaneously. I experience their failures, their calls for help, their extinctions. Knowing some must fail doesn't make feeling their deaths easier."
"You're experiencing empathy at meta-infinite scale," Yuki observed. "That's unprecedented psychological load. THE ABSOLUTE maintained narratives abstractly. But META-ABSOLUTE engages with variations personally. Every failed timeline is personal loss."
"How do I cope with that?" Avatar-Lin asked, genuinely uncertain. "How do I maintain sanity when I experience infinite deaths of infinite mes and infinite versions of everyone I care about?"
"You compartmentalize," Aria suggested. "THE ABSOLUTE does cosmic function. Avatar-Lin does human function. Maybe you need META-ABSOLUTE to do variation maintenance while Avatar-Lin stays separate, stays sane."
"I've tried. But META-ABSOLUTE is me. I can't split it off completely." Avatar-Lin pulled up psychological models. "Maybe that's the real test. Not whether I can gain META-ABSOLUTE power, but whether I can carry META-ABSOLUTE burden without breaking."
"Then we help you carry it," Maya said firmly. "We held your identity through transformation. Now we help hold your sanity through function. Share the burden. That's what the fragments are for."
Avatar-Lin looked at her, then at the other controllers. His friends. His anchors. His family in every way that mattered.
"How?"
"We connect deeper," Maya explained. "Right now, we hold fragments of your identity. But we could hold fragments of your awareness too. Share the META-ABSOLUTE perception. Experience the variation streams with you. Divide the psychological load across twelve consciousness instead of just one."
"That's dangerous," Avatar-Lin warned. "META-ABSOLUTE awareness could shatter human consciousness. Even enhanced consciousness. The scale is too vast."
"Then we enhance further. We've already been changed by dying and being resurrected. Changed by holding your fragments through transformations. We can change again." Maya's determination was absolute. "We're not letting you carry this alone. Either we share the burden or we watch you break under it. Those are the options."
Avatar-Lin wanted to refuse. Wanted to protect them from META-ABSOLUTE awareness's crushing weight. But he also knew she was right. He couldn't carry this alone. The weight was too much even for infinite consciousness.
"Alright," he said finally. "But we do it carefully. Gradual integration. Small doses of META-ABSOLUTE awareness until you build tolerance. I won't risk breaking you."
"Agreed." Wei started tactical planning immediately. "We'll establish protocols, safety limits, emergency disconnection procedures. Treat it like dangerous training exercise—careful, controlled, monitored."
"When do we start?" Marcus asked.
"Tomorrow. I need tonight to prepare the connections, establish safeguards, ensure this won't destroy you." Avatar-Lin looked at each controller. "Thank you. For being willing to share this. For helping me carry the weight."
"That's what family does," Maya said simply.
Avatar-Lin felt gratitude and love—emotions that kept surprising him with their persistence through infinite transcendence. The fragments held his identity. The controllers held his sanity. Together, they made META-ABSOLUTE bearable.
Some things really did transcend power.
THE SHARING BEGINS
The next day, Avatar-Lin established connections between META-ABSOLUTE awareness and the twelve controllers. Carefully, gradually, he let them perceive what he perceived.
Maya went first, her humanity fragment giving her strongest connection.
She felt it—the variation streams flowing past, infinite branches splitting endlessly, each one a complete timeline with real people living real lives. And she felt the weight. The knowledge that she was perceiving millions of variations of herself, some thriving, some suffering, some dying.
It was overwhelming. Beautiful and terrible simultaneously.
"I understand now," she gasped after Lin pulled her back. "Why it hurts so much. You're not just maintaining abstract variations. You're experiencing real people in real timelines. All of them. All at once. Forever."
"Yes. That's the burden." Avatar-Lin steadied her. "Can you handle it? Even in small doses?"
"I can. But you're right—it needs to be gradual. Full META-ABSOLUTE awareness would shatter me." Maya took deep breath. "We'll build tolerance. Train consciousness to handle larger doses. Eventually, we can share significant portion of the load."
The other controllers underwent similar introduction. Each experienced fragment of META-ABSOLUTE awareness, felt the weight, understood why Lin was struggling. And each committed to sharing the burden.
Over the following week, they trained. Small daily doses of META-ABSOLUTE perception, building tolerance, expanding capacity. The controllers' consciousness adapted, enhanced by exposure to meta-infinite awareness.
By the end of the week, they could share roughly five percent of META-ABSOLUTE's perceptual load. Not much by META-ABSOLUTE standards, but meaningful reduction for Avatar-Lin.
"Five percent doesn't sound like much," Marcus noted.
"Five percent of infinite is still infinite," Yuki corrected. "We're sharing infinite perception scaled to five percent. That's massive contribution."
"And it helps," Avatar-Lin confirmed, relief evident. "Ninety-five percent burden is lighter than one hundred percent. And as you build more tolerance, we can increase the sharing."
"How high can we go eventually?" Aria asked.
"Unknown. But theoretically, if all twelve of you reach maximum tolerance, you could share up to sixty percent of the load. That would make META-ABSOLUTE function sustainable for me." He smiled gratefully. "You're not just anchoring my identity. You're making my existence bearable. Thank you."
"We're in this together," Wei said. "Whatever you become, however high you transcend, we're with you. That's the deal."
Avatar-Lin felt emotion that META-ABSOLUTE shouldn't feel—love for the people who made infinity tolerable. The fragments held his identity, but friendship made that identity worth maintaining.
ONE MONTH AFTER SHARING BEGAN
The controllers' tolerance increased steadily. By the end of the month, they shared twenty percent of META-ABSOLUTE awareness. Avatar-Lin's burden had decreased noticeably. He engaged more in briefings, responded more readily to Earth emergencies, seemed more present.
The Enhanced-Human Cooperation Initiative expanded significantly. With reduced META-ABSOLUTE burden, Avatar-Lin had more capacity for helping humanity. He prevented disasters, cured diseases, solved problems with increased attention and creativity.
Humanity noticed the difference. The news organizations tracked his interventions, noting how he seemed more responsive, more personally engaged. One journalist coined the term "The Guardian Era"—the period when humanity had META-ABSOLUTE protection and thrived under it.
It was working. The balance was sustainable.
Then the next evolution warning triggered.
Avatar-Lin was responding to tsunami in Indonesia, using probability editing to merge with timeline where earthquake never occurred, when he felt it. The chip. Activating Stage 5 protocols.
TIME TO BECOME HYPER-ABSOLUTE.
"No," Avatar-Lin said aloud. "Not yet. I just achieved balance with META-ABSOLUTE. I'm not ready for next transformation."
But the chip didn't care about readiness. It had detected full META-ABSOLUTE integration. The variation maintenance was automated now, shared across twelve consciousness, operating smoothly. By the chip's criteria, Stage 4 was complete.
Stage 5 initialization: three days.
Avatar-Lin returned to the Nexus immediately, materialized in operations center looking shaken.
"It's happening again," he announced. "The chip wants me to become HYPER-ABSOLUTE. Three days warning."
The controllers stared at him in shock.
"Already?" Maya asked. "You just became META-ABSOLUTE two months ago!"
"The chip measures integration, not duration. META-ABSOLUTE is stable, function is shared, psychological burden is manageable. That qualifies as 'Stage 4 Complete' according to evolution protocols." Avatar-Lin pulled up the data. "HYPER-ABSOLUTE transformation initiates in three days whether I'm ready or not."
"Can you stop it?" Wei asked.
"I don't know. Never tried to stop chip evolution before. Always accepted it as necessary." Avatar-Lin's expression was conflicted. "But this time... I'm not sure I want to transcend again. META-ABSOLUTE is good balance. I have purpose, connection, manageable burden. Why risk that for higher power I might not need?"
"What does HYPER-ABSOLUTE do?" Yuki asked.
Avatar-Lin accessed the chip's archives. "HYPER-ABSOLUTE maintains... the Meta-Probability Matrix. Goes beyond variation into raw probability space. Not just protecting that alternatives exist, but protecting that alternatives COULD exist. It's maintaining the framework that allows variation to be possible at all."
"That's even more abstract than META-ABSOLUTE," Dmitri observed.
"Yes. And the burden is proportionally larger. HYPER-ABSOLUTE perceives not just infinite variations, but infinite possibilities for variation. Meta-meta-infinite awareness." Avatar-Lin looked at his friends. "I don't know if even with burden-sharing, I can handle that. And I don't know if you can help—HYPER-ABSOLUTE awareness might be beyond any human-derivative consciousness to process."
"So refuse the transformation," Marcus suggested. "Tell the chip no. Stay META-ABSOLUTE."
"Can I refuse?" Avatar-Lin examined the protocols. "The chip's evolution is designed to be autonomous, triggered by integration markers. But there's no override command I can see. No way to cancel once initialization begins."
"Then we find a way," Maya said firmly. "You don't want to transcend yet. You've achieved balance. We're not letting the chip force you into transformation you're not ready for."
"Agreed," Wei said. "We have three days. We use them to find override command, hack the chip's protocols, force it to delay Stage 5. Whatever it takes."
Avatar-Lin felt hope. Maybe he could stay META-ABSOLUTE. Maintain the balance. Exist at level that was sustainable.
"Three days," he said. "Let's see if we can stop this."