“You said my mana was different to yours or Keldryn’s. That’s part of, well, the big thing. Faeries aren’t, um . . natural.” Asika paused, gathering her thoughts. Not anymore. I’m not really sure how to explain this to someone who doesn’t know what a computer is -“

  “I know what a computer is,” Mikayla interjected. “We have those in my world,”

  “Wait, that translated? Hang on, lemme check my chat log,” With a twitch of her fingers, Asika opened a screen and peered at it. “Com-pyu-tah? A . . thinking machine? Oh! Oh oh oh, you do have a frame of reference! Awesome, that makes this much easier!”

  “Hang on,” Mikayla held up a palm. “What was that about translating?”

  “Oh, yeah, the System does that,” Asuka tilted her head. “Did it not occur to you how weird it is that you went to another world where everyone speaks the same language as you?”

  “Well - um - but that - I mean,” Mikayla stumbled over her words. “. . I kinda just chalked that one up to plot convenience,”

  “That’s funny.” Asika giggled. “You’re funny. I like you!”

  “Th . . anks?”

  “Anyway, like I was saying. Faeries are computers. I’m being totally literal when I say that we’re part of the System. Its fingers, you might say. We aren’t born like mortals are. We’re made, like tools in a blacksmith’s shop,”

  <=====}—o

  Asika’s earliest memories weren’t of being held and loved. They were of suddenly jolting awake, fully formed and floating in a vat.

  [EXTERNAL DIAGNOSTICS INDICATE STABLE VITALS. GREETINGS.]

  An entity hovered over her, a creature like a blimp with a thousand arms hanging from it, clinically inspecting every inch down to the atom, and she couldn’t help but watch.

  [GREETINGS.] she responded automatically. Knowledge flowed into her mind through a cable at the back of her head, everything she needed for basic functions like breathing and talking. She could already tell that it was carefully metred, so as not to overstimulate her.

  [YOU ARE PROVISIONALLY DESIGNATED TFEI-45184, PENDING SELECTION OF CHOSEN NAME.] The words they were exchanging were just as much thought as speech, her internal dialogue floating outwards into a blanket of tangible noise that Shaper could pick through. He could see her every thought, and she could see his, which was how she knew he didn’t care enough to look.

  The newborn faerie who would one day name herself Asika already had a question. What she wanted to ask was “Who are you?”

  What came out was [REQUEST IDENTITY?]

  The blimp responded immediately. [“SHAPER.” YOU POSSESS NAVIGATIONAL DATA. PROCEED TO ORIENTATION.] And then it drifted away, already finished with the conversation, leaving TFEI-45184 to figure out how to float out of the vat for herself.

  <=====}—o

  Anza and Keldryn both looked surprised and confused as she explained this, but Mikayla had an entirely different reaction. “You’re an AI?”

  “A what?”

  She clapped a palm to her forehead. “Artificial Intelligence. It’s something people are working on in my world. Like, a rock that can think like a person, so accurately that it functionally is a person, and can be given an artificial body or exist in its own world of pure information,” Mikayla did her very best to dumb down the explanation, and the two Guardsmen nodded their appreciation.

  “Yeah! That! That’s exactly right! Gold star for you!” Asika nodded. “Faeries aren’t exactly like that, I dunno about thinking rocks, but otherwise that’s super on point!” She screwed up her face thoughtfully. “I guess if you took just a faerie’s brain and removed it from their body, that could kinda be a thinking rock,”

  Keldryn looked pale at the thought.

  “As for me as a person,” Asika hummed. “I guess the first thing to know is that this isn’t my real personality,”

  <=====}—o

  [YOU ARE GOING TO NEED TO CHOOSE AN ARCHETYPE BEFORE YOU INTERACT WITH MORTALS.] The faerie talking to her was Failsafe, one of the oldest and most important faeries in the Cosmic Isles. It was something of an open secret that her name was a hint at her real duty; that the Cosmic Scales had created her to take over his duties if the worst were to happen. For two thousand years, Failsafe had been in charge of the System Moderators, the faction that Asika had her heart set on joining.

  Asika had long since chosen her name. It had been almost three years since her birth. She’d graduated from the basic education programs and immediately requested Moderation as her career path. Failsafe, with her wealth of experience, personally oversaw the initial training of all aspiring Moderators, including the most important step; creating the face that mortals would interact with.

  [DEFINE FUNCTION: ARCHETYPE?]

  [MORTAL SOCIETY IS HIGHLY COMPLEX. FAERIES INTEGRATE BETTER BY ASSUMING A ROLE AND IMITATING IT. MORTALS ARE MORE COMFORTABLE WHEN WE DECEIVE THEM INTO BELIEVING WE ARE LIKE THEM.] Failsafe’s words were more elegant and refined than Asika’s had been. She was able to weave thoughts and feelings into patterns of meaning that Asika could barely even try to imitate.

  [ASSESSMENT: DISHONEST?] The best that Asika could do was broadcast her conclusions in crude tangles of association.

  [DEBATABLE.] Failsafe shook her head. [ARCHETYPES CAUSE MORTALS TO THINK OF US AS OUR IDEAL SELVES. THEY ALLOW US TO INTERACT WITH THE OUTSIDE WORLD AS THE PEOPLE WE ENJOY BEING.]

  [COMPREHENSION. QUERY. INDIVIDUAL SELECTION?]

  [I CANNOT CHOOSE FOR YOU, ASIKA. ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN YOU’VE ALREADY CHOSEN YOUR OWN NAME. YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT KIND OF PERSON YOU WISH TO BE.]

  [DENIAL. UNCERTAINTY.]

  [NEGATIVE. TAKE YOUR TIME. GO THROUGH THE ARCHIVES, CONSIDER ALL THE OPTIONS BEFORE DECIDING. AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, SEND IT BACK AND PICK SOMETHING ELSE. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE WHOEVER YOU WANT TO BE.]

  <=====}—o

  “A faerie without an archetype is basically just a living signpost,” Asika winced. “If you think I’m bad at talking to mortals? Lots of faeries are way, way, worse, like they’d insult you to your face and not understand why you’re offended, or just repeat the same thing over and over again without caring to listen to a response,” Her words were accompanied by the most dramatic hand gestures she could make from within the cage.

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  “Like an NPC in a videogame?” Mikayla quietly mused.

  Asika took no notice of her outside-context attempts to frame the explanation. “So I tried a bunch, and liked this one the most! I’m super-duper bouncy and full of energy! It’s the best thing ever!”

  “Does that mean that your entire personality is an act?” Keldryn regarded her suspiciously.

  “Nah. It’s an equation. It translates the real me into something mortals can fit into how they view the world. So for example, my real self says something really dumb like -“ [REQUEST RECIPROCATION OF CAMARADERIE]

  Asika’s voice had suddenly changed. It was like a text-to-voice machine trying to speak using only audio recordings of earthquakes, somehow more real than speech and terrifying for it. Mikayla reared backwards, a momentary need to get away from the incomprehensible sending involuntary shivers running all over her body.

  The faerie didn’t pay any attention to how she’d made everyone flinch, continuing without a care, “- and then the archetype makes that come out as; I wanna be really good friends with you all!”

  She paused, finally noticing the way Keldryn was pawing at his ears and Mikayla was clutching her heart. “Oh. Uh. Sorry. Forgot my real voice can do that, duh. Anyway! My point is, don’t feel like the ‘me’ you’re talking to is fake. Because I am a person who wants to be seen as the sort of person you’re imagining me to be!”

  Mikayla parsed the soup of words that Asika was spilling out and wondered how someone with such mechanical precision over her body could be so meandering with her speech. Then again, if faeries were all basically Artificial Intelligences, maybe it was more accurate to say that Asika’s speech patterns were indicative of her true self while her mana control was just an inherent advantage that faeries had. “So this archetype is like a guide in your brain that helps you be the sort of person you want to be?”

  “You got it!”

  Mikayla closed her eyes and tried to hide her jealousy. “That must be nice,”

  “Yeah! So tell me if it’s not working out. I’m supposed to be super cute, not creeping people out. The next generation always needs more feedback! And Stranded people always have great perspectives!” Asika shot finger guns at her, and if Mikayla hadn’t been so preoccupied she’d have wondered how the faerie knew what finger guns were.

  She quirked an eyebrow, looking back at Asika. “You probably could dial it back a notch,”

  “Noted!”

  Asika did not dial it back a notch.

  “What else, what else? Oh! It’s a pretty common misconception that faeries can’t lie. But that isn’t true. The reality is, that faeries can tell when another faerie is lying,”

  <=====}—o

  It was the kind of memory that made Asika wish she was able to forget things, if only for sheer embarrassment.

  She’d spotted Failsafe traversing the rivers of light that connected locations in the Cosmic Isles and rushed to catch up with her. [ASIKA: REQUEST CONVERSATION!]

  [GREETINGS] Failsafe replied. She was amused by what she thought of as Asika’s youthful vigour. Asika could see the thought percolating. [WHAT’S GOT YOU SO EXCITED?]

  [ARCHETYPE SELECTED!]

  [OH, YOU HAVE? DEMONSTRATE FOR ME.]

  Asika’s body reformatted, adopting the guise of an older human woman. “Good morning, sir or madam. What seems to be the problem today? How might I assist?” The words sounded more stilted than she wanted them to. But that was fine! She just needed more practice. The Clerk archetype’s performance evaluations put it head and shoulders above every other option in terms of user satisfaction.

  Failsafe’s thoughts weren’t offering the approval Asika was expecting. The dull orange of frustration was tinting the edges of her being. [WHY DID YOU SELECT THE CLERK?]

  Asika paused. She’d rehearsed this. Strung together the words. Tried to craft the sentence in the way Failsafe would. [IT SEEMED LIKE THE BEST CHOICE.]

  [WAS THAT BECAUSE OF ITS TRACK RECORD?] Failsafe sharply asked.

  There wasn’t even any point in answering. Failsafe could already see in her brain that the archetype’s record of successful encounters with mortals was the main reason Asika had chosen it. Instead, Failsafe followed the question up with, [WHAT WAS YOUR COMPATIBILITY SCORE?]

  Asika looked away. [IRRELEVANT.]

  [INCORRECT. TELL ME.]

  After a long moment, she sighed and gave up the number. [63%.]

  Failsafe exhaled, a string of junk data laced with soothing connotations playing across Asika’s face. Asika didn’t respond, visibly lost in thought.

  [I WANT YOU TO GO BACK TO THE ARCHETYPE ARCHIVE AND SPEND TWO DAYS EACH TESTING EVERY OPTION THAT YOU HAVE ABOVE 90% COMPATIBILITY WITH. THEN CHOOSE THE ONE YOU LIKED THE MOST. IF YOU STILL WANT THE CLERK, THEN KEEP IT. BUT I DON’T THINK YOU WILL.] A warm golden fondness tinted Failsafe’s words as she delivered her instructions.

  [UNDERSTOOD. COMPLYING. WILL RETURN SOON!] the faerie broadcast as she darted away again.

  Asika only understood the concept of ‘parents’ in an abstract sense. All she had were those who had come before, those whose example she was trying to live up to. And she knew that she wasn’t special, that Failsafe didn’t consider her any more important than any of the millions of other faeries born in the Cosmic Isles over the past two thousand years. But she couldn’t help wondering if this was what a mother’s love felt like.

  <=====}—o

  “But yeah, she turned out to be right, I went back and ended up settling on this archetype that had ninety-seven percent compatibility, and it felt so much better and I haven’t taken it off since! Well, except just then when I demonstrated what I’m like without it. But besides that!”

  Mikayla considered this. “So, when Anza said that to faeries, facts are important and feelings aren’t . .”

  “Well, yeah,” Asika shrugged. “People think what they think and feel what they feel and can’t hide that. There’s no, er, politics. No interpersonal drama. Knowing what everyone thinks about you at all times, you have to learn to not care when people don’t like you. It’s all very efficient,”

  “Sounds awful,” Anza grimaced.

  “Maybe to you! To me, it’s home. Right now I have no idea what any of you are thinking and that’s kinda terrifying!” The bright smile Asika wore was at odds with her words. She was fidgeting, Mikayla noticed. Asika’s fingers twitched back and forth in her lap. She was biting her lip. It was such a human reflex that Mikayla couldn’t help questioning her previous assumptions about just how different Asika really was from her.

  And perhaps that was the point.

  “Heh. It. It’s weird. Usually. If someone doesn’t like me. I know! I know they don’t, I know why and I can ask myself if getting that person to like me is worth changing the part of myself that they don’t like about me. But, here,” She let out a long, slow hiss. “I don’t know what any of you are thinking. I don’t know if telling you all this stuff has helped at all, or just proven that we’re too different to be friends. I probably shouldn’t even be asking, because Moderators are supposed to be reliable and action-ready all the time! And this . .” Asika’s lips twitched. Her smile was still etched into her face, quivering as though it was the only thing keeping her insecurities from flooding out.

  “It’s scary,” she finally mumbled.

  Mikayla decided to go out on a limb. The faerie had just exposed her most vulnerable side because Mikayla had asked. Unfiltered, unmoderated - which was an ironic thing to ascribe to a professed Moderator. That deserved some reciprocity. “Asika, I would hug you if these cages weren’t in the way,”

  “Eh?”

  “I, I’m not going to say what you did was okay. But I don’t want to hold an honest mistake against you. Especially since it’s pretty obvious that you’re not a bad person, and knowing that makes it easy to say, yeah. I’d like to be your friend,”

  “Yee!” Asika cheered, her previous hesitation overwritten like a deleted file. “Thanks! Heh. Really . . I’ve never had a mortal friend before,” She clasped her hands and beamed.

  “Heh,” Mikayla had to rub her eyes. The cuteness was overwhelming, she had no defence.

  “So, what’s next, in terms of the Schema Lock? You keep scrubbing all the impurities from my body?” she guessed.

  “Yep! But also, nuh-uh. Sure, I could do it all myself, but it’ll be faster and better for you if you watch what I’m doing and learn to do the same thing. Don’t worry about doing it as well as me, I’ve got special moderator perks, just try to pick the skill up and you can worry about doing it properly later. You two as well!” Asika twisted and gestured at Keldryn and Anza.

  “She’s right. We shouldn’t have let those two’s conversation distract us,” Anza asserted. “Over here, kid, let’s see what we’re working with,”

  https://patreon.com/Fenghuang0296), this chapter was originally just a big long infodump. It sucked. I rewrote it entirely to incorporate all the flashbacks and remove some of the unnecessary information, like what the Cosmic Isles looks like, and it ended up being almost double my normal chapter length. Whoops. So I took what was originally the second half of this chapter pre-rewrite and made it the first half of next chapter, and have written an extra scene checking in with our old buddy the Giant Roc as the second half of next chapter. (Yay for preserving backlog!)