Up near the vault’s ceiling, an eerie orb of purple light drifted lazily in the containment field. X stared at it. He couldn’t make out its features, but he knew what he would see if he was closer. Bat-like wings with eye emblems. A pale face, always sleeping. The Mother Elf- or the Dark Elf as she was now being called- had been recently re-captured and brought here, to Yggdrasil. The towering administration facility was named after the world tree of Norse myth, and it was aptly styled with massive bunches of holographic leaves along its immense sides.
Several scientists milled about the vault, completing final equipment checks on the permanent containment unit that had been constructed. One of the scientists was attending to X. He quietly asked a question. “Are you sure this is the best course of action, sir?”
Sighing, X responded. “Yes. She needs to be sealed. Continue the preparations.”
With a click, the Reploid disengaged another piece of X’s secondary armor system. It was a winged vambrace, white with gilded trim and swooping curves. He regarded the growing pile of parts. They were all similarly ornate. It was a far cry from his original supplemental armor- the only thing they shared was the white color scheme. Though, he supposed the original had also possessed a few gold-painted trims. Where his current adornments were elaborate, high-tech symbols of status and lethality, the first armor had been functional but simple. It’d been designed by his father shortly before old age took him; it’d been completed by a one Doctor Mikhail Cossack.
Cossack was an uncle of sorts to him, but X hadn’t spoken to him in years. He’d been getting old when they’d last met. He wondered if the man was still alive. He wondered who among his extended family were even still around at this point. All he knew for sure was that Roll had disappeared long ago, leaving Neo Arcadia when the politics started to get complicated. ‘Complicated’ was the cope-word he allowed himself.
He considered querying the governmental records to see who actually was still alive. A simple request to the census bureau to see if Cossack and a few others had died, a quick lookup of the Registered Automaton Threat Index to see if his older siblings were still operational. He chose not to. His mind was a motionless pool of apathy. It didn’t matter much if, say, Kalinka Cossack or Tornado Man were still out there- it especially wouldn’t matter by the end of the day.
A final clattering signaled the end of the disassembly process. X looked down at his exposed under-armor. He felt naked without a supplemental layer. His body was still painted those old shades of blue, so much like the brother that had come before him. He’d died long ago, felled in the Second Invasion’s earliest hours. It felt so distant, it may as well have been myth.
X asked, “Do you think he would have done a better job than me?”
The scientist’s voice was sheepish when he replied. “Sir? Who do you mean?”
“My brother. Rock. The one before me.”
The answer was almost too quick. “I think you’re doing a great job, sir.”
He was trying to please X, either out of nerves or because he felt bad. Either way, X guessed the Reploid probably didn’t know much about Rock. A lot of the memories of that time had faded in society’s eye. X studied the scientist. He was a short robot, designed with simple, angular features. His face was vaguely goat-like. Draped across the raw metal of his form was the cloth of a lab coat, the pockets full of miscellaneous tools. He remembered that he’d had a brother that was similar. Sheep Man- he’d looked more the part, possessing fluff and a rounded face. By contrast, this Reploid was designed off of some modern art movement that had become pervasive among human roboticists. X tried to remember its name. It was something like Mutos, or perhaps Mythos. The movement applied abstraction and angularity to the preexisting principle of designing animalistic features into Reploids.
A hint of frustration and misery disrupted the pool that was X’s mind. That art movement was, in a way, another effort to dehumanize Reploids. It was the same as the standard of using serial numbers as names. It had happened under X’s watch. It was his fault, even if indirectly.
But just as quickly as it came, it faded back to apathy. That was his problem. Apathy. His passion had died out. He no longer felt the fiery urge that political maneuvering used to give him. The dance of opposing agendas ceased to make him feel much of anything. He didn’t even get all that mad when his opponents got through worse and worse laws and doctrines over the years. When he occasionally stepped back into the saddle to hunt down active Mavericks, that also made him feel nothing. The thrill of the fight was gone. All he felt anymore was numbness and vague self-loathing.
Neo Arcadia as a state was a failed project in X’s eyes. It was only a utopia for the right kind of person- a human. Robots had slowly been regressed to second-class citizens required to work an assigned job. Though X was the foremost leader and a universally respected cultural figure, he didn’t have ultimate authority. The Eight Judges had a say, the military had an agenda, and the humans had plenty of representatives. Some were rotten. And he’d failed to stop them from slowly rolling back the rights that robots had been given. Worse, he’d come to realize that some of his own decisions had been a part of the problem. He’d realized he was the worst kind of thing you can be in politics- an ineffectual neoliberal.
He wanted to tell himself it wasn’t his fault. For as much as his father had opined about X having a choice in life, he’d built X with a gun in his hand, not a book on political philosophy. Of course, maybe X had a point with this spiteful thought, but he also knew it didn’t absolve him of the shitty things he’d done.
The suspended energy field at the top of the chamber was slowly guided down towards the waiting containment device. The Dark Elf floated in the field as it went, offering no resistance. X stared at it as it entered the machine. A large mechanical arm moved the other half, closing the device with a loud clunk. It was now a giant golden sphere. Machinery inside hummed to life. Holographic displays flickered on. X stepped over to operate a control panel. From within the opaque sphere came odd electrical buzzing, evidence of some sort of process being done to the elf within. The noise ceased after a moment. By one of the sphere’s support struts, a blocky machine hissed as it ejected a data carrier vessel. X lifted it out slowly, inspecting the contents via the side window. Inside was the face of the Dark Elf, but dimmer, translucent. Satisfied, he turned to the scientist that had been attending to him.
“Okay, buddy. I’ve split the Dark Elf into two fragments. The bulk of her potency is going to be sealed here in Yggdrasil with me. But this here contains her operation ciphers. It still holds a little bit of power, but it’s mostly useless without the fragment in there, and vice versa.”
He held the vessel towards the scientist. The scientist winced.
“So these are my final orders. You’re gonna take this vessel. You’re gonna bring it to the Notus facility and tell the archivist to put this in deep storage. You should be safe enough on your way- this part of her can only influence minds, not alter machines. You’ll be shielded from her as long as she stays within. Do not, under any circumstances, open this vessel.”
X pushed the vessel into the scientist’s chest. The scientist gripped it gingerly, as if it were hot.
“Say it.”
“W-what?”
“Say you won’t open it for any reason.”
“I won’t.”
“Say the words exactly.”
“I-I won’t open the vessel for any reason!”
“Good.”
The scientist looked absolutely terrified. X figured that was good. It meant he would probably obey the orders. He continued his final directives. “Relay to the Council the following. Yggdrasil is now restricted to as-necessary military access. No member of the public is to enter. Not even humans or government officials. We’ve already moved all of the offices to other buildings, but no new ones are to be placed here. Furthermore, at all times, there are to be no less than six combat Reploid officers dispersed among the security checkpoints along the ascent. Finally, I need the basement level connections to Sub Arcadia sealed. Leave only the main entrance functional. Got all that?”
The goat scientist replied, “Y-yeah. Yes, sir. I have to take this to Notus for storage. I have to not open it. I have to tell the Council that you said to restrict the building to the military, cut off the sublevel entrances, and have six fighters stationed in the building.”
“That’s at least six. Six is the minimum.”
“Got it. Six is the minimum.”
X sighed. His shoulders sagged. “Alright. Let’s finish up. Gather around, everyone!”
The other staff present turned to give their attention. X stepped up onto the pedestal at the base of the containment orb.
“As you all know, the Dark Elf is an unpredictable danger. She’s like all the things that happened with rogue Elves early in the Elf Wars, multiplied by a hundred. If we just left her locked in this vault, it wouldn’t take long at all for her to corrupt the hardware around her and escape. So we need a seal. I know you all would rather I stayed lucid and out and about, but this is a pressing matter. So, please. Start the process.”
With some time, they could have researched a different solution, X was sure. It wasn’t a risk he really wanted to take, though. It wasn’t as if he was particularly opposed to being used as the seal, in any case. It seemed like a far nobler use of his body than all the waste his life had been to that point.
With a quiet scraping sound, a circular wall rose up from the floor around the orb. It was only open where X stood. Gold, molten yet cool to the touch, oozed up from the base of the pedestal. It enveloped X’s feet, rooting him to the spot. The gold tracked up his body, encasing parts of his legs and back before it found his hands. He felt a fuzzy sensation as the material interfaced with his systems. A new, unnatural exhaustion befell him. The gold was now supporting his body. A green ring of holographic light formed in the air above, encircling the orb and its outer wall. This was a representation of the seal.
X panted out, “Good luck… everybody.”
The lids of his eyes felt heavy. Dimly, he watched the scientists watching him. They looked sad. The sheep looked sad. Did the sheep have a name? Maybe one given by friends? X wished he’d asked. His eyes closed. His consciousness shrank until it was a mere golden mote of dust caught in a sunbeam. He floated in nothingness. It was peace. He hoped he could sleep until the world was a happier place. Forever, if it had to be.
After a minute of expectation, he realized that the mote of dust wasn’t blinking out like it ought to. He realized he was perceiving more. Not bodily- his body was dormant, of course. But he could distantly measure the room.
“Oh, god dammit.”
X had become a Cyber-Elf.
His presence, such as it was, literally resembled a mote of dust. It went unnoticed by the scientists as he floated listlessly above. He could see his own body. He felt jealous of it, and then realized the irrationality of it. Jealous at his own body?
One of the scientists- he couldn’t tell which- placed something at the foot of a pedestal. Prayer beads. They all made to leave, pushing a cart loaded with equipment and his armor parts.
“Welp.”