Destiny the chronicon lore mcxlii
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Let him go limbless for the rest of his wasted life. She will twist and tear his arms from his body like she is shucking a fine, fat crab for dinner, and he will be glad of the slow, sick cracks and crunches of his bones. His Captain is his mother, and she will not dock him with a scythe. With his chin held high, he imagines shucking off his armor and laying all four of his arms in his Captain's hands. Whatever indignities she can muster are nothing compared to what he deserves. She thinks he will yield like the flesh-lovers from House Judgment. His jailer would not grant him the honor of a quick death, so she must intend to torture him. There is a cliff behind him and lush gardens ahead. All of his arms are bound behind his back, so he cannot shield his eyes from the bright sun. The Vandal stoops as he exits the Galliot. On the sixteenth day, they began construction of the Oracle Engine, which took the singularity of the Allteacher as its seed-heart. From her un-throat came the voice again, which Mara felt in the atomic marrow of her bones, and it said, ++WHAT WOULD IT ASK US?++įor fifteen days and fifteen nights, the singularity burned unshielded. "What I mean is, what would you ask me?"īeloved, wise Kelda Wadj burst apart and then collapsed all at once into a singularity that burned and burned and burned but destroyed nothing around it. She said, "Of course." Violence, after all, is a matter of perspective. She had been a fool to think the riddling was over. Mara steeled herself against the horrific sight of her old friend's ruin. As she came undone, she said, ++NOW IT INSULTS US.++ She rose higher into the air and began to unravel, particle by particle. Mastering her horror, Mara said, "I have lived alongside you." And because she was afraid for Kelda, she asked, "Do you intend violence?"Īt once, the Techeuns collapsed to the ground like marionettes from severed strings-all but Kelda Wadj, whose augment blazed with coruscating light. The other Techeuns were transfixed thusly in a geometric array around the Dreaming City-each one inert, suspended, bleeding. She emerged in a small coastal observatory-then nothing more than a grand dormitory-and found Kelda Wadj, the Allteacher, hovering four feet off the ground.
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Mara lengthened her stride, taking the steps three at a time so that she could duck into a little-used transport gate.
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That one-voice came again, as clear and strong as the birth of the universe, booming with dispassionate curiosity, ++IT THINKS ITSELF WISE! HOW DID SOMETHING LIKE IT ATTAIN SUCH REVELATION?++ You are the idea that gives fate its shape." She turned at once and left the Queenswalk so that Riven would not be inspired. The answer came at once, ++WRONG! IT IS THE EKPYROSIC. There came a morning when the Techeuns spoke in unison, though none were near each other, and they said, ++WHO ARE YOU WHO BUILDS A HIDDEN CITY HERE IN OUR THOUGHTS?++Īnd Mara, alone in the Queenswalk of the Dreaming City, heard their voices ring out as if each Witch stood beside her, and she said to the empty air, "I am Mara Sov. "Not to rush your genius, but chop-chop, all right? I maybe made a bet with a certain Crucible handler, and I maybe don't have the Glimmer to back it up, so… By the way, you'll do this on an IOU, right?"īanshee points to the paper one more time. "Tsuu-tsuu-tsuu! The end."Ĭayde clasps Banshee's shoulder. I just want a good gun that you take out and the fight's already over." He shoots at invisible opponents. "We're just tossin' out ideas here, pal! Don't shut anything down until you get the whole picture." "This gets at the spirit of it."īanshee turns the paper around again.
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"I never said I was an artist," Cayde says over Banshee's shoulder.
#DESTINY THE CHRONICON LORE MCXLII HOW TO#
Not sure how to keep her away, but giving her access could be catastrophic.īanshee stares at the paper, then turns it upside down. The AI must be protected so that he can function best in the limited way we need.
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Would E even understand? Likely she'd go running to Hardy, show him some of the odder items where R has written some of his own code and seems to be-how can I put it? -passing judgment on us, like a little hidden critic. And he's doing very well, now writing his own code. That's what I've code-named the deepest core of the experimental AI at the heart of the new ship. What would she make of the R subsystems if she saw them? It's simply not necessary and I've given her all the subroutine code that she could possibly need.īut she wants it all. She insists she needs access to all the AI code for her gravity well measurements, which I find highly unlikely. The situation with E becomes increasingly tenuous. Navigator's Journal-Encrypted Supplemental.