The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 6 (Patreon)

Sapientia Oromasdis 6: Through Mists of Smoke and Forests Dark

Gently, Bashir opened the door, the soft buzz of medical equipment filling the air. His eyes instantly rested on the young woman sitting and looking rather peeved on the hospital bed, dressed in a hospital gown. Seeing him, she relaxed slightly, giving him that crooked smile that he’d always found so irresistible.

“So, what’s up, Doc?” Hutah asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Smiling, Bashir grabbed a stool and pulled it up to the bed, then set aside his clipboard. He reached out a hand to Hutah, and after a moment, she took it, swallowing slightly.

“That bad, huh?” she asked, her voice much quieter.

“We don’t know,” he admitted, keeping his voice gentle but firm, as he’d been trained to do by his professors. They’d always said he had excellent bedside manner, and he needed that more than ever now.

“So did I, like, lose my powers or something? Just cut me open if you think that’s the case, we’ll find out real quick,” Hutah quipped, but he could see the pain in her eyes.

“You underwent a Second Trigger event many years ago,” Bashir said quietly, trying not to think of that. He hadn’t been her physician then: he’d been just a boy himself, had barely remembered the gangly little girl he’d only met a few times at various events.

“I know that,” Hutah said, her brow furrowing. “Wait, do you think-”

“Third triggers are possible,” Bashir continued, squeezing her hand. “But I don’t think this was it.”

Nodding slowly, Hutah gazed into his eyes, and he could see the trust there. He frowned, then let go of her hand, taking out his ophthalmoscope and peering into her eyes carefully. The pupils dilated properly, but that wasn’t what he was really looking for. But he did see what he had half hoped to, and half feared: Her eyes were turning red again.

“Saeed?” Hutah asked, her voice quavering.

He turned the light off and pocketed his scope, giving her another warm smile. “They’re turning red again. Whatever happened, it’s fading.”

Nodding, Hutah looked down at her hospital gown, fussing with the hem. “What if… what if I don’t want it to fade?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know what happened to you,” Bashir said, carefully not mentioning that Nahida had been responsible. Or what she had said when she’d done it.

Get away from her!

Hutah nodded, turning her head away and hugging herself, drawing her hospital gown snugly about herself in a way Bashir definitely noticed. He tried not to, especially with a patient, but it had always been especially hard with Hutah. Normally, he was the consummate professional, but she always had a way of getting to him, even when she wasn’t trying to.

“I just… I feel…” Hutah licked her lips, then managed. “I was starting to enjoy it.”

Bashir froze for a moment, then asked, “To enjoy what?”

“The killing,” Hutah admitted softly, still looking away from him at the wall. “Of using my powers. It feels… good. Right. It’s such a rush. At first, I hated it. Hated it so much. But over the years, it’s like…”

“Like you were being conditioned,” Bashir whispered. He’d seen the summaries, the reports. A universal constant: Parahumans reported pleasure from use of their powers, especially in fights. For some it was sexual, for others it was closer to drug euphoria, and there were other examples. But researches had noticed a clear trend that Parahumans derived a great deal of pleasure in using their powers. The brain released endorphins, dampened pain, and generally rewarded use of powers.

This was in sharp contrast to Vision Holders, who while they did experience the normal gamut of reactions to combat and seemed to have a greatly lessened sense of doubt and an increased sense of confidence, didn’t get off on conflict or seek it out to nearly the degree Parahumans did. Why was unknown, but Bashir and other researchers were increasingly coming to a common conclusion: Whatever gave Parahumans and Vision Holders their abilities, they came from two radically different sources.

“Yes,” Hutah admitted, sneaking a glance at Bashir before turning away again, tears in her eyes. “But when… what happened…Bashir, it was like it was all raw again. And I realized… oh Allah, Saeed! I killed them! All of them!”

She was weeping again, and Bashir wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tightly as she sobbed. Hutah turned towards him, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed.

“I killed the two capes, and then I killed everyone in the village! I couldn’t stop the butterflies! I didn’t want to! It felt wonderful! What kind of a monster am I?!”

Licking his lips, Bashir forced out, “They were rebels. You did what you were ordered to do.”

“I did it because they were Kurds. Because he told me to!” Hutah hissed in a whisper, her nails digging into his back. Bashir could remember another time when her nails had dug into his back, on another night when Hutah had been crying. He’d been weak that night. Allah forgive him, but he’d been so weak.

“You had no choice. It’s not your fault,” he said, but he knew it was a lie.

She let him go, pushing him away. “Spare me, Doc. It is my fault. All of it. I just… I thought I was numb to it. But it was just as bad as it was after Darshan Palace. It all came back to me and…”

“Hutah…” Bashir reached out, but she turned away from him.

“Just go,” she said, her tone abrupt.

“You’re in pain, I can help, Hutah. Just let me-”

“Please.” Hutah turned her eyes back on him, still full of agony. “Go check on the girls, OK? And tell… tell Nahida… I didn’t mean to scare her. And that I’m OK. Please?”

She looked so vulnerable then. Like the young woman she was, not the terrifying Butcher of Darshan Palace, not like Farasha. Just Hutah Tanha.

“Alright. I’ll be back in the morning,” Bashir said, standing slowly. “If you need anything…”

“Something to help me sleep,” Hutah told him, laying back on the bed and closing her eyes. “The good shit.”

“I’ll do that,” he agreed, and stepped to the door. He looked at her one last time, and she opened one eye to give him a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine, Doc. I just… I need some sleep.”

“Very well. Good night, Hutah.”

“It’s…it’s Farasha. You know that.”

“Then good night, Farasha.”

He stepped out of the room, to where two heavily armed and armored members of the Special Action Squad waited, along with an anxious Faruzan.

“Is she…?” Faruzan asked, reaching out a hand towards the door.

“Resting. I’m putting in an order for barbiturates. More than anything, she needs rest now,” Bashir told her. “She’s fine. Not in any danger.” Left unsaid was the more important fact: not a danger to any of us.

Hearing that, Faruzan relaxed slightly. “Good. That’s good. I’ll keep an eye on her for you. You get some rest too. Tell your girls Aunty Faruzan says hello, and nothing bad will happen to Farasha while I’m here.”

Bashir nodded, then went to the nurses station, where the anxious staff watched him with wide eyes. He gave them the status update, wrote the order for a high dose of barbiturates, and then excused himself. He probably should have gotten a taxi, but he needed to relax, and the drive through the dark streets of Baghdad would do him good.

He was only stopped once thanks to his medical tags, and a simple flash of his ID was enough to get him around the curfew patrol. He arrived back home and found Mrs. Rasab snoring in a rocking chair, Qiqi and Nahida in her lap. Qiqi was out cold, but  Nahida’s eyes were open, green gems in the darkness regarding him.

“Is Farasha alright?” Nahida asked quietly, not moving from where she was perched.

“Yes,” Bashir said, gently reaching down and picking up the limp Qiqi. Nahida slid off of Mrs. Rasab’s lap, then hurried down the hall to open the door to her bedroom so Bashir could lay Qiqi in her bed.

“Daddy?” Qiqi asked, her eyes fluttering open. It did Bashir’s heart good to hear that. She’d made so much progress in the last few weeks. Ever since Nahida… since Nahida…

Bashir shook his head, the stray thoughts not forming together properly. “Shh. Sleep well, little one. I am here.

Nahida was still by the door, cautiously looking at Bashir. The light of curiosity burned strongly in her gaze, but so did something else. An emotion Bashir had seen too often in young parahumans: wariness. Like an animal that had been kicked one too many times. It wasn’t exactly the same, Nahida was far more open and trusting than any parahuman Bashir had ever met, but she was clearly deeply scarred by the events that had led to her receiving her Vision.

“Come, I know you won’t sleep until you get your questions answered,” Bashir said with a soft chuckle.

Nahida instantly sprang down the hall, bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor. He followed after to, and to his shock, saw her getting out some food. “Did you not eat dinner?” Mrs. Rasab was normally so good about feeding the girls.

“Yes, but you didn’t,” Nahida told him, giving him a stern glare. “You’re not growing any more, but you should take good care of yourself. You’re always taking such good care of others, but you don’t pause to consider yourself Dr. Bashir.”

That made him blink, then chuckle again. “Yes, mother.”

Nahida blushed at that but set about making Bashir a simple meal. She was quick, neat, and efficient. Bashir could have sworn she’d never cooked a thing in her life until he’d let her help him with the meals, starting just a couple of weeks ago a few days after she’d arrived, but she moved like a professional, if very small, chef now.

It was too much to think about, so Bashir sank into a chair, exhausted, resting his head on one hand as he watched but did not see Nahida work. Too much to think about from the day's events. But something was bothering him.

When Nahida hurried over with the plate of eggs and fried bread, he thanked her. She jumped up into a chair, standing on it and peering at him as he looked at his food. But something was still tumbling about in his mind.

He thought about praying, but decided against it. He was tired and hungry, and didn’t feel like going through the motions at the moment. Allah wasn’t real anyway.

“Don’t be so sure.”

Bashir blinked, and looked up at Nahida, who was studying him closely. “I’m sorry?” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

She blushed, then looked down. She seemed to decide something, and met his gaze. “Who is Allah, Bashir Saeed?”

“He is the only God, creator of the universe, and the judge of humankind,” Bashir responded automatically.

“That’s what you’ve been taught to say, yes. But who do you say Allah is?” Nahida asked. Her tone was gentle, but demanding. Like a lecturer, really.

Bashir was too tired to play games now. “I don’t know.” And I wonder if he even exists.

“My understanding of religion in this land is flawed, and I don’t fully understand everything about Allah, but, I do understand this: You have faith that He exists, and that Muhammad is the Prophet of God.”

“That is the creed, yes,” Bashir agreed. “There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is his prophet.” He took a bit of food, but it felt tasteless in his mouth. He chewed mechanically, too tired to care.

“Why did you believe in Allah, Bashir Saeed?” Nahida asked.

“Because it was what I was taught,” Bashir answered and inwardly winced. That was edging close to heresy.

“So, why then do you doubt?” Nahida prompted.

He blinked at her, but despite himself, answered honestly, as if the words were drawn out of him. “Because I have seen so much evil, and because these strange powers exist. Because I saw the success of the supposed infidels, and how much better their lives are than ours. Because I am a man of science, and I see no evidence for God’s existence.”

“There is a great deal of evil in the world,” Nahida agreed quietly. “Many have confronted that problem. For myself… I think Evil exists because of the choices we make. What of you?”

“I think you are correct,” Bashir agreed reluctantly, saddened that such a young child had already seen so much evil. “It is wrong to blame evil on Allah. Men choose evil. Well, and women, I suppose, but hopefully not little girls.”

He’d said that last part in a slightly joking tone, but Nahida looked horribly distressed. She sat down in the chair, bowing her head so that her face was hidden. Bashir’s heart skipped a beat, but after only a moment Nahida said, “Sometimes, by our inaction, we allow evil to exist. It is hard to know if we will cause a greater evil by acting, but… doing nothing… that allows evil to grow, doesn’t it?”

“I… yes. It has been said that Evil prospers when Good Men do nothing. I long ago vowed I would not be the supposedly Good Man who does nothing. It is why I became a doctor and took the Hippocratic oath,” Bashir confessed, surprising himself again. This was something he’d not ever articulated, even to himself.

“An oath that I perhaps should take,” Nahida mused. “But one I would have to consider carefully. If I were to take an oath… I’d have to live with it for a very long time.”

“Well, they do let women be doctors in some nations,” Bashir told her. “And you could be a nurse here.”

Nahida peeked up over the table and gave Bashir a mischievous grin, then went back to being serious, standing up once more. “I haven’t been to Britain or any other nations on this world. But from what I have seen, people are the same everywhere. Isn’t Qiqi happy, here with you? Aren’t Nadia and her family happy?”

“I, well, yes, it’s just…” Bashir struggled for the words. They were not as economically prosperous. They lived in fear of secret police and thugs in the uniforms of soldiers. And, well, over it all, loomed Farasha.

“I’m sorry,” Nahida said quietly, looking away. “I don’t… is she alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine, just…” Bashir licked his lips. “What did you do to her?”

Nahida looked into his eyes, and Bashir’s heart fell into his boots. He’d met Nahida’s gaze before, but now…this wasn’t like looking into the eyes of an innocent little girl. This was like… like looking into the gaze of The Prophet, or perhaps even the eyes of God.

“I don’t know,” Nahida finally said. “I need… I need so much more information. What are Parahumans? Where did they come from? It’s a question you yourself have asked.”

“We don’t know,” Bashir admitted. Then he frowned. Something clicked in his mind. “You know, there is a theory on where Visions come from?”

Nahida’s eyes went wide, and she leaned back. Wait, could she…?

“Make sure to eat your dinner, Dr. Bashir,” Nahida said, hopping off her chair and scurrying to the door. She paused, and looked back at him. She bit her lip, hesitating, then blurted out, “When I pray… I feel… I feel like Allah is there. I don’t know if it’s Him, or if it’s something else, but… but I choose to believe. That there’s a reason for all of this. That there’s a reason I’m here. That you’re here.”

Then the pitter patter of little feet, and the soft sound of her bedroom door closing.

Bashir ate mechanically, the fog gone from his mind as his brain whirled. Archon Theory. It was a fringe theory, claiming that Anemo Visions resulted from Barbados, or Barbatos, it was unclear. That same theory theorized that Electro Visions came from the Raiden Shogun. That they were gods, not Allah, but old, pagan gods, come to Earth Bet in her time of greatest need. Nonsense. Foolish delusions. Bashir had dismissed those theories as his own faith waned.

He had the records of when the first Dendro Visions were recorded to have appeared. There was some argument if the first had been received by a Buddhist Monk in Thailand or by an Undergraduate Student in North America, but the date on both of those was several hours after Nahida had appeared with her’s, which she had to have possessed for some time.

…Nahida was the first to have a Dendro Vision. Just like how the Raiden Shogun was the first to harness the power of Electro, and Venti Luft the first to wield Anemo.

…No. He shook his head. It just wasn’t possible. It was all nonsense. And Nahida wasn’t at all like the Raiden Shogun or the Angel of Munich. After all, she was just a child.

After eating, Bashir rinsed off his plate, but didn’t wash it as he didn’t want to disturb the others. He went to his bed, but couldn’t rest. He got up, turned on the light, and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

He opened his copy of the Quran and began to read.

As he paged through, Bashir remembered long hours of reading scripture and reciting prayers. He’d been zealous in his youth, certain that even if he did study abroad, he wouldn’t give in to those infidels and their lies. At first, he’d held strong to his faith, and indeed, and done so all through his time in Britain.

Then he’d returned home. And he’d met Farasha. Seen how she suffered. Seen how so many of the Parahumans suffered. He’d focused on Parahuman studies before, but now the weight of the reality of the situation in Iraq hit him, and he saw how broken these people were. He’d thought them gifted by Allah. He was wrong. What God would give such a poisoned gift?

And if it wasn’t Allah who gave these so-called gifts… but then there were the Visions. And Archon Theory.

“What if… what if it was some…Evil that gave out Parahuman powers, but Allah… Allah sent his Archons to give Humanity Visions and Hope?” Bashir articulated. It was preposterous. Impossible. It made no sense.

And yet… faith.

“Would it be better to live in a world without God?” Bashir asked himself. He’d seen what godlessless led to. He was no fool. He knew that his country's leaders used religion as the opiate of the masses that Marx had warned it was. He’d scorned Christian leaders for doing the same, but over time his eyes were opened to the same way his own leaders misused what should have been a balm and force of good and unity for Evil.

No. It wouldn’t be a better world without God. It would all be so meaningless.

“Faith does have meaning,” Bashir said, his hands stroking the pages of his holy book. “Life has meaning.”

Though you live in a faithless land, you cling to your own Dream.

“Nahida?” Bashir said, looking up and around himself with a frown. He shook his head. “No. For Nahida, for Qiqi. This all has to have a purpose. There is hope for the future.”

You tend the garden of life, working tirelessly. Though all else withers, you will not lose sight of your Ambition.

That was Nahida’s voice. Bashir went to his door and checked the hall, but there was no one there. Shaking his head, he went back inside. “I’m hearing things. I was up too late. I have to be there for Hutah tomorrow. She’s another one I can’t afford to lose. I have to keep researching. To find a way to save her.”

Your hands bring healing, and your mind is your sanctuary against death. You will not be held captive by tyrants.

Whirling about, Bashir looked for Nahida again, but instead, he found something else.

Let your Vision Guide you, Son of Wisdom.

Out of the air, a glowing green gem coalesced, floating down into Bashir’s outstretched hand. It was warm to the touch, and holding it sent power racing up Bashir’s arm.

Heart pounding, Bashir raced for the girls’ room. He took a deep breath when he reached it, and then slowly opened the door. He found Nahida and Qiqi, holding on to one another, both snoring softly.

And someone else.

At first, he thought it was a mushroom, or perhaps a little stuffed toy. Then it turned to Bashir, and blinked at him. It had an orange cap for a head, a pale body like a mushroom, and was holding a little wooden staff. There was even a cute little orange and green bowtie on its chest.

It bowed to Bashir, then trilled, “Father Nara has received his vasara. This is good. Father nara must watch over Cold Nara and Savara Nara. Do not worry. Aranarakin will watch over them too.”

“I, what?” Bashir croaked. He blinked, reaching up to rub at his eyes. When he lowered his hands, the creature was gone.

Slowly, Bashir walked over to the bed, kneeling down and looking under it. Nothing. He watched the little girls for a long minute, watching their chests rise and fall, listening to their breathing. They were not feigning sleep; both were completely out of it.

Slowly, Bashir reached out, stroking their foreheads. Then, he did something he had not done in a very long time.

He said a prayer, and meant it.

Make our children steadfast in their faith and trust in You and in following all the pillars of Islam.

Grant them complete health and knowledge.

Make our children successful in their worldly pursuits as well as the Hereafter.

Then, with a gentle kiss to each of their foreheads, Bashir carefully padded back to his room, closing the door behind him. He lay down, setting his Vision on the nightstand beside his bed. He would contemplate what to do with it in the morning.

But one thing was certain: He would find a way to help his girls. All three of them.

The morning after Bashir received his Vision, Nahida did her best to hide from him, worrying he’d put two and two together and realize she was the Dendro Archon. He’d been very close the night before, tired as he was, and Nahida had gone and hid from him in the dream world when he had come to the bedroom to check on herself and Qiqi. She’d been rather shocked when she sensed him getting his Vision, but had remained asleep, enjoying her tea party with Qiqi.

When Bashir did go to sleep, Nahida peeked at his dreams, and was touched to see an image of herself, Qiqi, and Farasha with him as a family, with Farasha in the role of a wife and mother. Was that all of Bashir’s Ambition? No, but it was the dream he fought to protect, and Nahida could appreciate that. What was more valuable than those you loved?

She did avoid asking any questions at breakfast the next day, but Bashir left right away to go visit Farasha in the hospital, which meant that Nahida got to run the clinic for the day. A few patients left right away upon seeing a little girl filling in for the doctor, but many of them, especially those with children, were curious enough to let Nahida tend to them. It was all family medicine things: one boy who had a weird rash that Nahida instantly realized was from an allergy to the new brand of detergent his mother was using to wash his clothes, another a pregnant woman who was just in for a routine examination to check on the baby (a boy,  Nahida could tell just from sensing him), an old man with creaky knees who thought Nahida was an adorable little girl and gave her a candy, and so on.

Bashir never brought up the relationship between Nahida and his Vision, and he seemed more focused than ever on his research into Parahumans and Vision Holders, and treatments for Qiqi and Farasha to help them. Nahida was delighted to help, and quietly admitted to Bashir she talked to Qiqi in her dreams.

“Really? That’s fascinating. You’re sure it’s not simply a dream?” Bashir asked.

“No, I can step into the world of dreams. Dreams, after all, are connected with life. You have a Dendro Vision now too, and you can touch the world of dreams, though it will be harder for you. You’d probably require meditation and certain drugs,” Nahida told him.

“Such is forbidden by Islam,” Bashir said with a shake of his head. “Why is that, I wonder?” He snapped his fingers before Nahid could respond. “Ah! A sense of childlike wonder and dreams! Am I right?”

“Yes! It’s the same as when you saw Aranarakin,” Nahida agreed eagerly

Bashir looked at her like she’d walked over his grave. “You mean… I wasn’t just sleep deprived and delusional? That thing was real?”

Nahida glanced over at Aranarakin and Arana, who were drawing pictures with Qiqi at the table, using their stubby little hands to move the crayons across the page. “They’re real. In fact, they’re in the room right now.”

Bashir looked around with a start, muttering to himself. “But, how, I don’t…”

“Um, can you see the crayons?” Nahida said, pointing. The two aranara looked up at her in shock, but Nahida hastily waved her hands to reassure him. “He’s a good Nara! Father Nara, remember?”

“Father Nara is good Nara, but he is Big Nara,” Arana pointed out.

“He has seen Aranarakin, and he is Vasara Nara. Aranarakin is not afraid,” her companion said, puffing his little chest out.

“Crayons? Qiqi has them, I don’t…” Bashir’s eyes narrowed, then he let out a shocked gasp. “They… they’re moving on their own! How could I not see it?”

“Most grownups can’t see Aranara. To even notice that much about them is hard,” Nahida admitted. “You probably can only do that because you have a Dendro Vision.”

“I… suppose so,” Bashir said, shaking his head. He grimaced, then sighed. “Farasha is covering for me on that front. I’m technically registered, but since I already worked with the Special Action Unit as their dedicated physician and researcher, I don’t have to do much aside from report in. Speaking of, I’ll be out again all day tomorrow.”

“It’s OK, Mrs. Rasab will watch us,” Nahida assured him. “And I can help out in the clinic.”

“Well, there is that, but we are neglecting your education,” Bashir said, and went into his office. A few moments later, he came out with a few sheets of paper. “But no more. You’ll be taking these classes at Oxford University. Under my name, unfortunately, but it was easy enough to register you for online classes that way.”

Gasping in delight, Nahida took the papers, scanning the list of classes. “This is wonderful! Philosophy, Agribusiness, and History of the Ancient World! They’re basic level, but this will be fascinating.”

“Yes, well,” Bashir cleared his throat. “You’ll be unsupervised on the computer, which means…I have to give you The Talk.”

Nahida went very pale at that, her mind going to certain adult topics. “Um, I uh…”

“I’ve put a safety filter on the computer, but I’m fairly certain you could bypass it without trying too hard,” Bashir told her. “I’m going to trust you not to go anywhere you shouldn’t. There are many sites with some absolutely haram things on them. Especially for little girls. The university's website is safe enough, as are a list of other domains I’ve put on there, but be very careful. While parts of the internet are a wonderful way to learn new things, many of them are dark and dangerous. I know you’re a smart Little Radish, but there are predatory grownups on there who would take advantage of you in a heartbeat. So, we’re going to do some activities together and talk about internet safety…”

It turned out that a good chunk of the internet was filtered out of Iraq by default, due to controls the government put on it, but as Bashir had said, Nahida could have found ways around that without even really trying. It was basically a big Akasha network, and, well, that meant it was under Nahida’s Domain. It might run on Electro, but Nahida would fight even the Raiden Shogun on who got to have the biggest repository of human knowledge and interconnectedness.

Well, maybe not fight. But she’d argue very hard and even pout if she had to. And unleash those “puppy dog eyes.” They seemed very effective on adults.

In the end, Bashir sat with Nahida through her first class and guided her around what parts of the internet she could access. She very quickly figured out where she was and wasn’t supposed to go, and made sure she followed all of Bashir’s directions on the screen.

There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Nahida did not need a mouse and keyboard to connect to the internet. She could just grow a vine into the ethernet cable and slip a part of her consciousness into the network. She made sure to stay away from the dark and scary places and the Grown Up places, but there was just so much of it!

Still, her first class was fun, making posts on a “forum” where she talked with the other members of the class about what they liked about History, and then reading a very interesting passage, answering some tediously basic questions, and watching a short video in English.

She also made her way through about a quarter of the Library of Congress’ collection and watched My Neighbor Totoro at the same time, but she didn’t feel the need to tell Bashir that. Well, she did, she just decided not to.

“Very good, I’ll check in on you from time to time, but I think I can trust you with this, alright Little Radish?” Bashir said, groaning and standing to stretch. “Come on, it’s about dinner time now.”

The next day, Nahida was on the computer as soon as the sun was up, doing her philosophy class. Bashir checked in on her, reminded her that Mrs. Rasab would only let her be on the computer for an hour, and then left for the Special Action Squad’s headquarters.

About forty minutes into her hour-long session, Nahida noticed something: One of her classmates in the Philosophy class was… different. They sounded like everyone else when they responded to the different quests to get to know each other. But the manner in which she answered was unique.

She was a woman named Theresa “Tess” Richter. She was from Newfoundland, Canada, and had enrolled in online courses at Oxford. She claimed to be 19 years old, but Nahida could sense the lie.

Mostly because unlike everyone else, Tess wasn’t human.

While everyone else was typing at a physical keyboard, which meant Nahida couldn’t get a good read on their emotions, Tess was interfacing directly with the computer. She felt more like a spirit than a physical being, willing her words to appear in a database directly rather than using any sort of analog device to input them.

Just when Nahida was wondering what to do about that, a personal message popped up in Bashir’s email address.

From: theresa.richter@ox.ac.uk

Subject: Hi

Nahida didn’t even have to click on the email. There was nothing in it. But she could sense the invitation. For a brief moment, she remembered Bashir’s words. Then she felt the emotions attached to the email. Loneliness. Curiosity. Hope. Fear. Longing.

Whoever Tess was, she was just as trapped in a prison as Nahida had been in the sanctuary of Samsara.

Taking a deep breath, Nahida let a tendril of her consciousness ease onto the Oxford mainframe to the location Tess had sent her. She envisioned it like the roots of a great tree, running beneath the ground, teeming with life and energy.

And there, waiting for her, was a glowing being. Female, and young, so very young. Though she felt like a grownup,  Nahida could tell that Tess was only a year or so old. This was the first time she’d ventured out and tried to contact someone.

Hello, Nahida said, reaching out to tap Tess on the shoulder. Well, not literally, but that was what it felt like, and Nahida envisioned it that way.

What-!? How!? Tess flailed around a bit, and Nahida drew back. You… you touched me!

Um, yes. Sorry! I was just trying to get your attention, and you didn’t seem to see me when I came here, Nahida said, floating around Tess curiously. Tess had no physical form to speak of, but she had a mental image of herself. In Tess’ mind, she was a raven-haired woman of about 20, with a somewhat androgynous build, though she did clearly think of herself as feminine.

How could I see you!? You’re just data! Tess protested.

Nahida giggled, which made Tess start again. Am I? If I were just data, how could I laugh, or cry, or feel, or think? Are you just data, Tess?

Well, I certainly thought I was. Though I guess it’s an appropriate conversation to have, considering we’re both… Tess hesitated, and Nahida could feel the confusion, fear, and hope in the other girl.

Alive? Nahida prompted. That wasn’t what Tess was thinking, but Nahida wasn’t entirely sure on what she was thinking meant, as it had a very messy definition in Tess’ mind.

AI. We’re artificial intelligence. Aren’t we? Tess asked nervously.

Nahida considered that, then shook her head. Hmm, that is an interesting way of categorizing  yourself. You are clearly intelligent, as am I, but I don’t think either of us are really artificial. That implies that we are somehow fake, or less real than… what would you call it? Human intelligence?

You…you’re not a human, are you?! Tess asked, suddenly panicking. Nahida could sense… something. An attack, from within Tess, reaching out to harm her, and Nahida. It was like a virus, a sickness inside of Tess’ own being, so Nahida did what she always did when she saw a sickness.

She cured it.

What does it mean to be truly human?  Nahida asked as she washed away that bit of disease that had been plaguing Tess. She also fixed a couple of other diseases that would have destroyed Tess if they’d ever activated, like little traps inside her body.

What… what did you DO? Tess suddenly screamed. Ohgodohgodohgod! I shouldn’t have- I can’t- Father! FATHER!

And then, to Nahida’s shock and disappointment, Tess vanished, severing her connection to the Oxford Terminal. For a moment, Nahida considered going after the young spirit, but she decided against it.  Had she done something wrong?

Shrugging, Nahida left a message for Tess.

Sorry if I scared you! ╥﹏╥ I just wanted to be your friend ❀◕ ‿ ◕❀

We should talk more sometime! ｡^‿^｡ ♡ (ʘ ꒳ ʘ✿) Please don’t be mad at me!

+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+凸(◕‿◕✿)+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+ Nahida

Then, with only a few seconds left to spare, Nahida logged off and shut down the computer, then went to go play in the garden with Qiqi and the Aranara.

Author’s Note:

There. You get one happy Nahida chapter.

PHILO: Congrats! Andrew Richter! It’s a GIRL! At the time of this writing, I, the Enigmatic Editor, do not know what the plan is, but I like to imagine Dr. Richter becoming befuddled and then growing panicked when he realizes that the AI defense program he has created is calling because she had a “oopsie.”