The following evening was much of the same. I headed back to the bunks after food and settled into my spring-ridden bunk, lay down, and prepared for another round of Fractured Anamnesis. Opening the interface, I entered into the realm of copper once more.
Alright, let's start this back up.
The familiar ethereal room resurfaced with my echo standing in the centre.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — INITIATED]
[PROJECTED LEVEL: 25]
[PROJECTED GRADE: A-GRADE]
[DURATION: UNTIL DEFEAT OR VICTORY]
—
—
—
The sparring lasted for about the same amount of time as the first few rounds. Each time I fought with myself, I'd find myself being thoroughly outclassed in every single metric. The echo moved with an almost preternatural grace, far outstripping my predictive capabilities, whether that was down to the true-noosphere or some other kind of hidden skill or ability, I wasn't sure.
I went for several more rounds until I reached the fated level 18, and I opened up the interface.
[TRUE-NOOSPHERE]
[CONNECTION THRESHOLD: 6.01%]
[LEVEL: 18]
[EXPERIENCE: 6 / 800]
[RANK: 0]
[RANK PROGRESSION: 18 / 100]
[STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 3]
[BODY]
Strength: 28
Agility: 31
Vitality: 33
[ETHER]
Capacity: 1
Sensitivity: 1
Control: — LOCKED —
[MIND]
Willpower: 22
Intelligence: 17
Perception: 21
[Skills]
—Locked—
I looked at the stats I'd accrued and sat with a smile. They were coming along nicely, but compared to the top hitters in my weight class, I was far outmatched. But the amount I had grown in just a few months was genuinely impressive.
I need something extra, even once I get the skills from my Firmware and the system shop. I'm still missing the ability to apply damage. Now, if I can get the Ether enhancement used by my Echo, that would be great. But that wasn't listed in the connection point shop at all.
Wait—
I switched my interface to my deviation and read through it once more.
[NULL]
— Cross-grade firmware compatibility. No permanent firmware lock-in.
— Non-linear skill acquisition. Skill trees unrestricted by category or grade ceiling.
— [LOCKED]
— [LOCKED]
— [LOCKED]
— [LOCKED]
Non-linear skill acquisition and skill trees unrestricted by category or grade ceiling. Now, what exactly does that non-linear skill acquisition mean? I could attribute it directly to the system shop, but that didn't become active until after the exhibition as a reward, meaning those two things are separate.
I stopped and thought for a moment before looking back at my stat page. I placed two points into Ether Capacity and one into Ether Sensitivity. Immediately, I felt a pressure in my head as something began to expand. It felt as though my cranium was expanding outwards, pressing against skin and flesh, making room for something new.
[ETHER]
Capacity: 1 → 3
Sensitivity: 1 → 2
Control: — LOCKED —
Surrounding me within the room, I felt a warm buzz in the air. I searched for the source of it and found it surrounding all the individuals cultivating. The ether sensitivity increase had immediate effects on my ability to perceive Ether, and while I couldn't see it the same way I did when I first awakened, I could sense it more clearly.
Damn, that feels good. Let's hope this pays off.
I sank back into Fractured Anamnesis.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — INITIATED]
[PROJECTED LEVEL: 25]
[PROJECTED GRADE: A-GRADE]
[DURATION: UNTIL DEFEAT OR VICTORY]
And so it began, but I had a different plan this time. Instead of trying to fight it, I tried to run through how it moved, how it channelled its Ether and how it timed its strikes. All the while trying my best to disregard the rotations, which proved harder than I thought possible.
But the movement alone wasn't my end goal; that was assessing the Ether Strike skill. Each time it came at me, utilising it, I threw up my guard, prayed and tried to sense how the Ether moved through the body of the echo. How they channelled it and where they released it.
My paltry Ether sensitivity proved it to be rather difficult, but after a few rounds of being forced into a relationship with the ground, I was starting to get a feel for how the Ether moved.
It moved the brain stem and channelled outward along the central nervous system before ending in the arm. The release happened on impact, a fraction of a second after the physical strike connected.
I tried to replicate it on my next exchange, drew from my small pool of Ether, and pushed it toward my fist.
The result was a faint warmth in my knuckles and absolutely nothing else.
The echo punched me in the face.
[FRACTURED ANAMNESIS — SESSION COMPLETE]
[DURATION: 17 SECONDS]
[XP GAINED: 23]
[CONNECTION POINTS GAINED: 6]
[CONNECTION THRESHOLD: 6.06%]
I lay in my bunk, my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
I have the blueprint of it now, the only thing holding me back is that I lack the control and raw reserves to reproduce it. But I know the how. Now it was only a matter of when.
I woke before the alarm, dressed in the dark, and sat on the edge of my bunk while the barracks stirred around me. The ache from last night's anamnesis sessions had mostly faded, leaving the general soreness that I'd been feeling since I had arrived in this Enlightened forsaken place.
The morning routine was— well, routine. Formation into roll call, and shortened breakfast in the mess hall. We sat in our usual space and discussed the happenings of the day to come.
"Today's the day," Sato said through a mouthful of paste. "Today, we become mech pilots!"
"It's only a simulation," Hsu corrected. "Actual piloting comes after."
"I'm going to be a natural. I can feel it." Sato said to himself.
"The only thing you'll be feeling is the loving caress from M—"
"SHUT IT!"
I caught Osei across the mess hall and gave him a nod. He returned it and walked over, weaving through the tables. The squad turned silent as he approached, and I shared a few glances with them.
"You got your answer?" he asked, arriving at our table.
"We're in, but we have a couple of conditions."
Osei paused before nodding. "Go ahead."
"If your macro call puts our squad in a position we collectively assess as wrong, we have the autonomy to override as a unit."
Osei considered for a moment.
"Acceptable," he said. "My coordination works best with elements that trust their own judgement. A squad that overrides a bad call is more valuable than a squad that follows one."
"Oh, and we want in on using your deviation. We want to be able to use exactly what you do, for the sake of the platoon and all that."
"Also acceptable. We have been working on a relay system for exactly that purpose."
"Sounds good."
"Then we're in agreement." He extended his hand.
I shared one last glance from the table, and no one made any objections. I extended my hand out to Osei and shook it, and without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.
"Did he just... agree to everything? No amendments or negotiation?" Sato asked.
"He agreed because the conditions were reasonable," Tomás said. "Osei is pragmatic. He probably knew what we were going to ask and was prepared to cede to our demands."
"Still, it feels like there's something we're missing," Park added.
Jin watched where Osei had been standing. "Yeah, he accepted that override condition fast."
"Too fast?" I asked.
"Just fast enough to make me think something was off." She picked up her paste. "Which either means he respects our autonomy or he's confident he'll never make a macro call we'd need to override."
"Which one worries you more?"
"The second one. People who are confident they're always right are the most dangerous commanders."
"He lost to Miller in the individual bracket," Tomás said. "He knows he's fallible."
"Yes, but a fight is different from platoon strategy," I added.
"Well, on the bright side, it will keep things nice and interesting," Sato said.
The simulation centre was on the compound's northern edge. A long, low structure with reinforced walls that dwarfed every other building in the F and D-Grade section.
Inside was on another level entirely. We entered the building and had to hold a collective breath from what we saw.
The corridors were wide, climate-controlled, and lit with the same warm panel lighting I'd seen in the administrative block. The floors were polished composite rather than concrete, and equipment cabinets lined the walls. Each cabinet was sealed with biometric locks and bore the logos of half a dozen corporate sponsors.
"Holy shit," Sato whispered.
"Language," Hsu said, staring at the same thing Sato was staring at.
"Since when do you care abou—."
The simulation hall opened up at the end of the main corridor, letting the blue flourescent light into the corridor.
I turned back towards the entrance, trying to figure out how something so large could fit inside such a small building. As I turned, I noticed the floor was on a slight angle, meaning a good portion of the facility was situated underground.
"This is some high-tech stuff," Sato muttered somewhere to my right.
Looking towards Sato, I followed his gaze into the main room, where rows upon rows of simulation pods arranged themselves in concentric semicircles. Each pod a sleek ovoid of dark composite material, with cables running from the rear side of them into the floor.
The pods were open, their upper shells raised like the carapaces of resting insects, and the interior showed a form-fitting gel matrix surrounded by a multitude of arrays and neural interface contact points.
I counted forty pods in our section alone. The rest of the hall stretched further than I could see, disappearing behind partition walls that presumably separated higher-grade simulation bays from ours.
"So this is where our budget goes," Park said quietly. "The barracks, the mess hall, the training yards… they're all cheap because everything else goes into this room."
"Mechs generate system credits." Tomás shrugged. "System credits fund everything else. The training infrastructure that produces pilots is the only investment the institution takes seriously."
Okafor was waiting at the front of the hall, standing beside a pod that had been opened fully for demonstration.
"Find a pod. Get in. Don't touch anything until I tell you to."
We dispersed through the rows. I found Pod 7-14 — Barracks 7, slot fourteen — and stood beside it. The gel matrix inside was cool to the touch and slightly spongy. It was shaped to accommodate a body in a reclined position. The neural interface contact points were arranged in a crown pattern at the head of the seat, in six plugs that would connect to the base of the skull and the temples.
I climbed in.
The gel shifted beneath my weight, conforming to my body as I settled into the pod. The material was unlike anything in the barracks I'd seen. The gel was almost alive in how it adjusted to my frame, filling the gaps between my body and the pod's walls until I was held in a firm, even embrace. The neural contacts pressed lightly against my skull.
The status display above me flickered to life.
[POD 7-14 — ACTIVE]
[PILOT: TIERNAN, MARCUS — BARRACKS 7]
[FIRMWARE: AEGIS-ASSIST (BASE)]
[NEURAL LINK: STANDBY]
[AWAITING INSTRUCTOR AUTHORISATION]
The pod's upper shell descended slowly, the panels dimming as they sealed around me. The outside world thinned to a single band of blue light, then to nothing. The sounds of the simulation hall faded behind the composite shell until all I could hear was my own breathing and the quiet pulse of the pod's systems whirring around me.
I'm back.
"Alright, recruits," Okafor's voice came through the pod's internal speakers. "On my mark, we will initialise your neural link. You will feel a sensation of pressure, followed by disorientation. This is normal. Do not fight it. Let the firmware establish the connection."
"If you lose consciousness, the pod will auto-terminate and flag you for remedial training. Try to stay awake."
The interface within the pod flashed to life.
INITIATING IN:
THREE.
TWO.
ONE.