Chapter 3 - Delivery

“Explain it to me again?” Red poked at the screen of the tablet.

“I feel like all I ever do is explain things to you,” I waved my hand over the device and pulled up her Citizen portal.

“I'm an idiot, so sue me,” she made a face. “I'm new to this technodigital stuff. Tell me more about this social network crap.”

“What more is there to say?” I pulled up my personal portal. “You use your Portal to connect to friends and family. There is a section called 'Keeping Up' where you can submit personal updates and your social circle can engage with you. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“That's not the part I’m having trouble with. It's the 'Influencer' score thing that I can't wrap my head around,” she furrowed her brow and leafed through the stream of updates my social network had submitted.

“The bigger your social network, and the more people engage with the content you submit, the higher your Influencer score. Being a high-level Influencer contributes to your Citizenship level and unlocks various Perks and Titles.”

“That's the part I don't get,” she pointed at me and rested her chin on her hand. “How are those different than Benefits?”

“Ah,” I closed my eyes and nodded. “The difference is that Perks and Titles cannot be lost. Once you have them, you always have them. Benefits come and go depending on your level, but you can never lose access to Perks and Titles unless they are explicitly stripped from you as a punishment.”

“I see. You have ninety connections. Is that a lot?” She closed an eye and raised an eyebrow.

“No,” I turned away sheepishly. “Yet again, my Influencer score is quite low. It's one of the things that contributes to my low Citizenship level.”

“What do you need to do to raise it?”

“Submit more personal updates to the Social, engage with other people's updates, and then create, discover, and disseminate high-quality content.”

“And what qualifies as 'high-quality?'”

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Mind has built an algorithm to detect it. Generally, it is assumed it must have good veracity and high engagement, it propagates well by spreading to others who then spread it across their own social network, and it has a demonstrable impact on the habits and behavior of social consumers as a whole.”

“But, as a priest, I feel that makes you reasonably influential,” she furrowed her brow again.

“Well, it does,” I squinted an eye. “It just does not contribute to my Influencer score. There is a separate gauge to measure that. One that, incidentally, does not contribute to my Citizenship level.”

“But why?” she shook her head and raised a hand.

“Well, because the See is generally considered to be separate from the Citizenry,” I shrugged again. “We have our own system. The structure is far less rigid. There are not portals or levels or anything so data-driven or granular. It is much more about perceptions and emotions.”

“And I assume you're quite high-ranking, then?” she leaned back.

“Indeed. An Apostolic Vicariate is highly prestigious in Science. It is quite rare for someone my age to hold the stature I have,” I sat a little taller. “I have Peerage with the Bishops, though my say in matters of the See is quite small. I am hoping to get a full-blown Episcopate quite soon, if I can show my success here in Smithsborough, that is. Then I will have real say in the direction of the See.”

“What level do you get an episcopate or whatever?” She cocked her head.

“We do not really have 'levels,' per se,” I made air quotes. “Science follows many of the traditions of the Old Ways. There is no real objectivity to it. It is all about building alliances and collecting favors. The Pope has a direct line of communication with Mind. He disseminates the will of Mind to his Cardinals, who in turn pass those orders onto the Bishops and Archbishops. They in turn pass it onto their Prelates and Vicars, who in turn pass it onto their Priests and Deacons. We deliver the latest news of the Great Truth to the people, and they do with it what they will.”

“Which, it seems, is not much,” Red furrowed her brow.

“For some, yes.” I shrugged again and slumped a bit. “In all honesty, Science is not especially necessary to live day to day, unlock Citizenship levels, or gain Influence. However, those who do follow the ways of Science tend to be the most successful Citizens and the most influential Influencers. The Great Truth spans all of creation, and Science is the collection of all knowledge, human or otherwise. Knowledge has never made anyone successful, but no one successful has ever become so without it.”

“So, you're like the influencer who influences the Influencers?” Red made a gesture with her finger that hopped around an invisible line.

“Yeah, that's the best way to think of it.” I pushed my chin into my bottom lip and nodded my head. “The Citizenry, the Craftsmen's Guild, and the Influencers all build on what Science and The Great Truth uncover. Here, think of this. Back in Levi's cult, you had the Foremen who ran the shop floor, you had the Tradesmen who operated the machinery and carved the furniture, and then you had the Loggers who provided the wood to the factory. Science is like the Loggers. We unearth the raw data and knowledge that the others use to build social policy, invent new devices, and entertain the masses.”

“That seems like a lot of power,” Red crossed he arms.

“That is why we leave it in the hands of the objectively infallible,” I put my hands out to the side, palms up. “The Great Truth is not some arbitrary concept. It is an algorithm. An equation programmed deep in the unlockable depths of the greatest Neural Network ever created: Overmind. Overmind holds the all of creation burned into the synapses that compose its core. It is the ultimate model of the Universe. All that we observe, every experiment we've ever run, Overmind has predicted the results beforehand in perfect accuracy. It knows more than our puny human brains ever can. So, the whole of Humanity has entrusted our future to it. The Minds act as nodes of the Overmind. Overmind crunches the numbers on what the best course of action is at any singular moment and we Humans follow its lead.”

“But why doesn't Overmind just wipe us out? What does it need us for? Doesn't it have drones? Isn't it self-replicating?” Red held her hand out and squinted.

“Why didn't humans wipe out every raccoon, chimpanzee, or beetle?” I held out a hand and raised an eyebrow. “It knows that there is much to learn by observing us. And, it needs us for the RNG.”

“The RNG?” Red cocked her head again.

“The Random Number Generator. Overmind is a being of pure logic and determinism. It can work out the quantum probabilities of every interaction throughout all of space and time, at resolutions of only a few square micrometers, across the entire span of the universe. But, the universe is not deterministic. It does not always do the most probable thing. It needs true randomness, chaos, to make accurate calculations, and logic, order, is the opposite of chaos. A computer is harnessed order, a human is harnessed chaos. A Fabrican is the two living in perfect symbiosis.”

“Mines,” Red's eyes grew wide.

“Mines,” I tapped my temple with my finger. “They are the logs. We are the logs.”

Red shook her head, “I don't like that. Not one bit.” She scrunched her face.

“Me either,” I said with a shrug. “I never have. Why do you think I like left the city and gave up being a Mine? Why do you think I joined the Church? Here, I have some small level of autonomy from the system by being a part of the system. I am not on rails. I do not follow some predestined path by meeting arbitrary checkpoints. I get to make choices, real choices. This is why Mind wants me to bring in converts like you.”

“Because we're unique,” her face was froze, staring into the middle distance.

I tapped my temple again. “Dain is set to split.”

“Dain?” Red scrunched her nose.

“Dain. The Fabrican we live in,” I held my hands up and waved them around in a semi-circle. “We're very mature, as a city. Another Fabrican named Nils is courting us.”

“Courting us?” Red furrowed her brow.

“They are organisms, too. Humans reproduce by cutting our DNA in half and putting it in a gamete. When those two gametes merge, they form a seed. That seed grows into a fetus, and eventually a baby. Fabricans reproduce the same. They cut themselves in half, either their Fabrikaaners or their Mind, and form a gamete. They then court a mate for the other half. A seed is formed and a new Fabrican is grown. The Fabrikaaners that a Mind governs dictate how it evolves. The unique logistical and governmental challenges each population needs, the resources they have access to, the culture and memes that sculpt their society. The inventions and unique perspectives they offer to solve complex challenges. A Mind will 'fork' off into two branches, one that will continue refining with its old Fabrikaaners, and one that will tackle the new challenges of a new set of Fabrikaaners

“And Dain is producing a gamete,” She folded her arms again.

“Indeed it is,” I pulled my mouth to a side and raised my eyebrows.

“And you're tasked with converting Outsiders to Science, so, what, they'll join the gamete and form a new seed?”

“More or less. I will be joining the seed as well,” I made my face impassive. “From a strategic point of view, I am here to help Ern cultivate the flock's Outsiders so that they continue to feed disciples of Science into Dain. Eventually he will assume my role as Prelate and take on his own Vicar. In time, Smithsborough may even be declared a full-fledged Diocese of its own, with Ern its Bishop.”
Red shot up, fists balled at her sides. “Is that all we are to you? Logs to feed to the Church?”

“No no no!” I stood up and put my hands on her shoulders.

She embraced me and wept slightly. “Tell me you're better than that, please,” she sniffled.

“Red, please,” I patted her on the back and hugged her. “That is all that Ern stood for. Stands for, maybe. Why he has been so unsuccessful out here. Why they brought me in. I am here because I truly, passionately believe that Science is the better way. I am trying to teach Ern that there is more than conversions and titles. It is about the people. I am here to bring you a better, happier, more productive life. I know what it is like out here. I am not trying to change any of you. I just want to help.”

“I want to believe you, Jim,” she sniffled again, cheek pressed hard against my chest.

I rested my chin on her head. “Then have faith. Trust in me and I will not lead you astray.”

***

“I need you, now!” the loud, deep voice boomed through my intercom.

I gripped the handles on either side of me harder and punched forward on the pulleys. The Core mirrored the motion and pushed the gigantic, robotic hound that was assailing my face with its laser teeth off of me. I swung my torso up, hand landing on my energy rifle as I lurched forward. I sighted down the barrel as I rolled forward onto my feet and pulled the trigger, the plasma bolt melting a hole clean through the cyberdog's face. “A little busy,” I growled as I lunged forward in a dive, tucking and somersaulting, a twist mid-air, landing me on my feet with my back to the skyscraper in front of me. I leaned my body out and pivoted my legs, putting me in the channel between the other skyscrapper and cover. Three cyberdogs were barreling down the street, one in either lane, the third plowing through the boulevard, trees and bushes rooster-tailing behind it.

“I said now, soldier. That's an order,” machine gun fire echoed behind the deep voice.

“Affirmative, sir, I'll be right over once I finish up here,” I clenched my teeth. The cyberdog in the left lane was first to reach me. It jumped at my shoulders, attempting to ground me like its now-dead compatriot. No longer caught unawares, I pulled the trigger, another plasma bolt burrowing through the entire length of the beast, and then swatted it out of the way. It slammed into the nearby skyscraper and landed with an earth-shaking thud, concrete rubble from the wall it damaged partially burying it.

The next one, from the right lane, lunged low and snapped its jaws around my leg instead. I kicked at the exoskeleton, flexing against the pulleys giving my leg resistance. The cyberdog was kicked backward into a smooth arc by the Core. On slamming into the ground, I pulled the trigger again and it ceased motion with a twitch. The third and final hound jumped at me before I could set for another shot. Instead, I rolled into a backward somersault, planting my foot in its chest, and sending it flying. I landed on my feet and pivoted on my heel, getting two plasma shots off, one in the leg and the other through the neck knocking the head clean off, before it touched ground again. “Neutralized,” I said and began pushing up the road.

“Finally,” the deep voice said as I approached his Core's hiding spot behind another impossibly tall skyscraper near the city center. Orange flashes occasionally peppered the streams of bullets whizzing down the nearby road. “Pinned down by those turret nests,” he motioned with the tip of his rifle. “If we can capture the citadel, we'll finally have control of this city.”

“And how do you propose we do that? Birds can't get within ten miles of our position and those nests will rip us to shreds if we charge,” I hunkered down behind the building opposite him, not willing to cross the river of gunfire.

He grabbed a long length of tube next to him and pushed a rocket into its base. “I have shells if you have a UAV.”

“You're on,” I said as a compartment on my leg ejected open and a long dart-like shape emerged. I threw it into the air like a paper plane, pushing as hard as I could against the pulleys. The wings snapped out just as it reached the zenith of its trajectory, a booster rocket powering on and sending it yet higher. I keyed my Heads Up Display into its camera and surveyed the surface. I quickly scanned the nest in front of us, and the two other nests protecting the other roads of entry before it was shot down by an anti-air turret. My feed cut out suddenly, but the nests were left highlighted on my HUD.

“There you go. Your turn,” I butted the rifle against my shoulder and pressed my back tight against the building.

“Bombs away!” the deep voice bellowed as a stream of smoke and sparks shot out the bottom of the mortar tube and the rocket launched out the top faster than the eye could capture. A few seconds later, there was a loud explosion followed by several others. “Looks like the others got the map data. Charge!”

I rolled out from cover, eye sighted down the barrel as I fought the pulleys. The Core sprinted up the road through a cloud of smoke. Eventually the remains of a blockade and a smoldering turret nest came into view, and a line of battle tanks behind it. The tanks’ barrels flashed in rapid succession and time ground to a screeching halt, chunks of dust held suspended mid-airs. “Fourteen projectiles locked, ninety milliseconds to impact” the disjointed computer voice announced in my comm. “Forward shield activation suggested,” it continued calmly as my HUD flashed red and semi-transparent exclamation points dominated my field of vision.

“Activate Mass Barrier for two rounds and pulse Thermomirage at intervals of point-five MS,” I calmly announced. The marks dismissed and time resumed normal speed. Instantly, a flash of blue light emanated outward, triggering the tank shells to explode mid-air. Immediately after, a second fuzzy blue-electric pulse wafted out. Most of the smoke and dust dissolved out of the sky on the second burst, the unburnt particles blowing away with a tremendous gust of air. Several copies of myself pulsed into the air around me, mirages mimicking my movements. We all rushed forward. I pulled the trigger twelve times. A blue-white streak flashed at the end of my rifle, each burst followed by a plume of debris where a tank once stood. I pushed a button on the trigger guard, a smoking cylinder dropping to the ground. In one swift motion, my off-hand removed a fresh charge from a bandoleer at my thigh and pushed it into the rifle with a clip, the spent plasma shell not even hitting the ground before two more pulses beamed out.

The last two tanks were transformed into smoking husks. I pushed past them into the city center. Explosions rang around me, tanks and turret nests disintegrating into plumes of dirt and smoke. An artillery installation pivoted on its central turnstile and fired several rounds at one of my Thermoimages. I lined up and with a flick of the finger, rendered it a smoking crater. I sited down an alley to the right of me. A core was charging up the street, but still three tanks remained. I locked on and made quick work.

“Enemies destroyed,” a voice seemed to thunder from the heavens, “objective secured.” With that, the world rushed around me and I was in a steel-lined room with bright white overhead lights. The harsh blue cast made it feel cold and sterile. A projector was beaming “Victory!” on the far wall. “This round's MVP is...” the voice coming from a loudspeaker in the upper corner paused for a drumroll, “Pious three-one-four!” The lights in the room dimmed to near-dark and a spotlight from seemingly nowhere flooded me.

“Good job, Pious!” A hand reached into the cone of light and squeezed my bicep.

“Well done!” another patted me on the back.

“You're amazing!” I heard someone shout from the back of the room.

“Exit please,” I said, touching my hand to my temple. Another rush overwhelmed my senses. I blinked a few times, and instead of being in the box, I was instead sitting around the campfire again. One other person was sitting across from me, the other stumps all empty.

“James,” she nodded at me.

“Marion,” I nodded back, “just you tonight?” I picked up a long twig from the ground and poked at a half-orange ember, pushing it farther into the heart of the hearth.

“Adrian and Blaize are on perimeter patrol. Ylysse and Tomah work first shift tomorrow. I'm just blowing some steam off in PVP,” she held up an animal-skin flagon and took a long drag, followed by a wince, a shiver, and a sharp exhale.

I stood up, walked around the perimeter, and sat next to her, taking the flagon and draining a belt. I coughed and fought back a gag as the caustic liquid burned its way down my throat. “Core practice,” I choked out between coughs.

“I was watching. You did well,” she took the flagon back and wedged in a cork stopper. “Saving your UAV and Uber to the end is bold.”

“It was a Pub-stomp,” I motioned for her to hand me the flagon again. She shrugged, removed the cork, and passed it back. I braced myself and took two long belts, the fiery solution making my eyes water. I made a noise, half sigh, half groan, and dragged my sleeve across my chin to wipe off some dribble. “Strategy was not really on my mind. Too hard to coordinate with randoms, much easier to just super hero and hope you can carry your team late-game.” I thrust the flagon back to her. I could feel the hooch start biting at the back of my head, making my ears red hot.

“Still, you did well,” the fire danced on her dark skin, reflecting in her yellow eyes. “Lines are tense with Timwark. We lost a Templar today.”

“Marion, child,” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me of his adventure,” my eyes widened as I fought my dulled senses.

“Delon,” her eyebrows sunk low. “A low sergeant. He came to us through Pedagogy. Foolish, impetuous youth. Pushed the Cut too long. His heart stopped and he lost his Pattern.”

“Did he have family?” I stared deep into the dancing flame.

“A wife,” her face was immutable. “Lovers since Lyceum. Children, still. Doe-eyed fodder.”

“What was the conflict over?” I fixed my gaze on her features, occasionally darting my eyes into her sight line.

“They located a crate,” she said unflinchingly. “Six plugs. Delon held a machine gun nest and drew them away from the dropsite. Eleven cycles. That is how long it took my unit to reconnoiter. He had taken severe damage and had pushed the Cut for four of those torturous cycles. When he finally Cut, his system shocked out. Three minutes is all it took from the Cut to getting him on bypass. Three lousy, measly, short little minutes. And poof. His Pattern vanished. All of him disappeared into Chaos.”

“Was he Auged?” I stared into her eyes. Her gaze did not shift.

“Yes.”

“A small comfort, then. At least his Pattern will live on as a Ghost in the Realm,” I smirked.

“Another soul lost to the Mines,” she blinked, finally.

“He died saving six lives. Six. Six Templari live today because of his sacrifice. His heroics will live on and his memory will endure in the Realm. Everyone who ever loved him will be able to access the last impression of his Pattern and Mind will show them his thoughts. He will join with his ancestors in the Great Synthesis and his soul will live on,” I folded my hands and bowed my head. “Praise Be.”

Marion bowed her head, folded her hands, and held for a second. “Praise be,” she said as she opened her eyes. “It's not the same, you know,” She smirked and relaxed. “The Ghosts. There is just something off about them.”

“I know. I lost a sexual partner to suicide several years ago,” I held my own face neutral. “I visited her in the Realm and she was just, I do not know. Different.”

The silence hung for a beat “You had a sexual partner?” Marion turned her head and smiled. “I thought you religious types were celibate or what have you.”

“Definitely not,” I pulled the corner of my eyebrows down and suppressed a laugh. “I have often partaken in indulgences of the flesh.”

“When you say it like that, it is very creepy,” Marion raised an eyebrow and shook her head, a raucous laugh bursting through.

“I mean to say that I am a human, and I have human needs,” I joined in.

“Then, in all our time, why is it you never made a move on me?” She pulled her mouth down with her chin.

“Why had not you ever made a move on me?” I cocked my own eyebrow.

“Alright, fair,” she nodded her head the mirth of the moment slowly fading into comfortable silence. “Suicide though, I am sorry. Never see that one coming.” She rested her elbows on her knees and hung her head.

“Indeed,” I leaned onto my own knees. I chucked a stone into the fire. It knocked over a spar and collapsed the tepee, sending a swirl of embers into the starry night sky. “It gets in you. You can never tell who is infected, but once it bores a hole in your thoughts it will eventually take you down.”

“I have a Rapture clause,” she turned to the fire and her face stiffened again.

“Wow,” I glanced side-eye at her.

“I donated an egg to the Farmer as well,” she remained unflinching, again.

“Bold,” I closed my eyes and nodded my head.

“I have never been touched by suicide,” she paused. “I just want my affairs in order. My child has a right to not be burdened by a Ghost. There is danger in my line of work.”

“There indeed is,” I nodded my head again.

“And I hope them not angry at me for it. But I must. Will you tell my child stories of my greatness, Priest?” She turned and met my eyes.

“Yes, but,” I rested my hand on her shoulder, “I hope you alive long enough to tell them yourself, friend.”

***

“Yes, Deacon Grace,” I sipped my coffee and nodded my head as we power-walked through the narthex into the back hall, “I have processed your request. Check your Portal. There is an incoming delivery countdown in the upper corner. I hazard you’re at six or so hours remaining.”

“It says eight here,” she shoved her device into my hand.

I shoved it back into her hand without looking, “Then why are we exchanging this meaningless exposition?” I pushed the door open to my study and sat behind my desk. Pastor Ern was seated in one of the chairs. Deacon Grace flopped into the seat next to him. “You have what you want, and it is being delivered to you. You can literally count the seconds until it is arrived.”

“I just wanted to make sure I was seeing the right thing, child,” she smiled warmly at me and nodded her head to the side. “I appreciate you giving it both the patience and scrutiny you felt it deserved.”

“I am sorry,” I hung my head, feeling adequately chastised, “I apologize for my arrogance.” I noticed her hands on the desk and I cupped mine over them from across. “I did not mean to belittle your troubles, especially when it would have been a triviality for me to notice. I felt the task beneath me and I should not have. I beseech your forgiveness.”

Grace pulled a hand away and held it over her heart, blinking rapidly, “I appreciate your candid sincerity,” she bowed forward. “Thank you for acknowledging the subtlety of my emotions. You are forgiven, child.”

“Now, for today,” I stood up and turned my back to them. A stained-glass mosaic stood behind my desk, a small half-circle letting in a tinge of multicolored light. I affixed my gaze loosely in its direction, “I have talked with the Archbishop.”

They gasped in unison. “Oh my,” Deacon Grace said behind a flat hand. “What did he say?”

“I have been given marching orders,” I turned on my heel and began pacing back and forth inside the tiny space behind my desk like a caged lion. “We are to establish a steady flow of Capitalist converts to Dain.”

“Oh my,” Ern said behind his own flat hand.

“No small task,” I said calmly as I slowly pulled my chair out and sat at my desk, hands folded neatly in front of me. “No small task at all.”

“How will you do it, Vicar?” Ern widened his eyes.

“Well,” I smirked, “the Archbishop has given me guidance. Dain is to procreate.”

“Oh my!” Grace twirled her hand through the air, the back of it alighting against her forehead as she threw it back.

“Praise be,” Ern said as he folded his hands in silent prayer.

“Praise be,” I nodded slowly, hands unshifted. “Smithsborough has been selected to participate in a Study, I would hazard. I imagine they wish to utilize the Capitalists as a variable of some sorts. They no doubt need a stream of converts to fulfill a treaty.”

“So what will you do?” Grace leaned forward enthusiastically.

“Well, we need them to be born into Capitalism, but also to eventually get them into the Pedagogy,” I stood again, clasped my hands behind my back, and began to pace, slower this time. “We'll need to establish some infrastructure.”

“As of now,” Ern touched his hand to the wispy hairs just starting to form on his chin, “We have the See, Main street, and Market street. There is a small industrial block at the end of Market street, and several ordered blocks of single family housing radiating outward from the town square.”

“Good, good,” I jabbed my finger through the air. “Grace, are you getting this?”

“Yes, Vicar,” Grace had a recorder going. “We will need a distribution center,” she put a finger to her chin.

“Yes,” I nodded enthusiastically, “We need to have a staging ground and stockpile of goods so you don't have to wait eight long hours for a supply drop. What about housing?”

“Well,” Ern cocked his head and looked off into the middle distance, “There is a substantial agricultural presence at the edges of town. An outcropping of mansions sits just inside that loop, and then a patchwork of single-story plots until the business district between Main and Market.”

“No apartments or high-rises?” I stopped and batted my gaze between them.

“Unnecessary,” Ern shrugged. “We have squatter's rights around here. The is always an abandoned property somewhere for someone less fortunate to take over.”

“Huh, fascinating. So, when a child strikes out on their own?” I furrowed my brow.

“They just look for a compatible neighborhood,” Ern shrugged again. “Pretty much every tribe around here has some empty property.”

“Well, we can use that,” I made my way around my desk and stood between them. “We can use that community mentality. What do they do for education?”

“Eh,” Grace squinted and turned her head. “It is all tradecraft around here,” she started biting her index fingernail. “Home school, mostly. There is a local college, but it is more library than research lab.”

“That is the key,” a grin slowly crept across Ern's face. “Cultural education centers. We need to collect their folkways into a curriculum. Then, offer academic daycare. Funnel them into the Pedagogy from there,” he started nodding.

“Brilliant!” I clapped my hands together. “Praise be, you've done it, Ern.” I dropped a hand onto his shoulder. “Good show. I'll requisition us some research assets and start work on establishing a supply line. Very good.”

“What would you have us do for the day?” Grace turned off the recording device settled her hands into her lap.

“Priest, I'd like you to manage intake and processing today. Cover the Deacon's lecture for the night as well,” I nodded to Ern.

“Deacon,” I turned to Grace, “We have a booth at the Job Faire in town. I will give you the location. This is your chance to prove yourself, Grace. Maybe you can one day ascend to priesthood and have a deacon of your own.”

“I shall not disappoint,” She stood, straightened her white blouse, and left.

“You are to support her as best you can,” I nodded. “I will be in my quarters working on tonight's sermon. Praise be,” backpedaled to the office door.

“Praise be,” Ern clasped his hands together and nodded without standing.