He couldn't imagine the effort it took to calculate the moon trajectories or the rotational positioning of the tectonic masses around this strange world. If magic wasn’t what was keeping the world together, then he didn't know what was.
He glanced at the iron scraps, and put them down, for now. He grabbed a small chair and brought it to the smooth wooden workbench, well-varnished and cared for–presumably by Varrick. He needed to start very small.
For starters, he needed to determine which power he was pulling from. He had three to choose from, which based on Garrett’s reaction, wasn't normal. He flexed his open hand, and wanted to focus on the most benign power: the force barrier.
Alright Halsey, how much do you know about these powers?
Very little. I know only the basics. What I said before was true: there is an Etteria core inside you. It's not so much physical, so much as…overlapped with your body. That aligns with Varrick's explanation.
Okay…but, that crystal absorbed into my body. And I felt little splinters and pains for a while.
That's the physical portion. You now have a lattice of that crystal inside your body; it follows nerve pathways, integrating with your body. The energy travels along these pathways for various effects, depending on the gestalt acquired.
He found this deeply unsettling. Was metal self-replicating within his body? This was some strange magic, to put it mildly.
But why are the gestalts so varied? Telga said no two are the same. He flexed his hand, and tried to feel out that core…somewhere nested near his heart, from before. Also, it’s kinda creepy, a metal that ‘grows’ is now interfacing with my organic body. I’m offering myself to the nearest predator I see if I ever hear ‘Assuming direct control.’ Just throwing that out there.
I don’t think I could control you, it doesn't work that way. That also sounds… wrong.
Do you have morals? He found that surprising.
I know that controlling others is wrong on every level. It…feels like a belief I held strongly.
Now, let’s focus. Clear your mind. I think Aveerans are more tuned into their core than other species. We should start with that. Before, it was easy; when you first took the crystal in, your whole body was…like an overloaded battery. It wanted an outlet, and resistance was low, if I might borrow an analog.
Okay, so it had to go somewhere, and it was like floodwaters spilling out, or a pressurized fluid source. He sat on the simple bench adjacent to the forge, and took a deep breath, trying to picture that energy source. Near the heart, and lungs, perhaps.
Once he closed his eyes, he tried to push the rest of the world away, took a deep breath, and held it. It was something he'd done before, many times. After his father…left…and Maggie had allegedly drowned, he tried various exercises to not fall into despair or rage. One of those two events had been tugging at him, ever since. This exercise, along with forays of hunting and wilderness treks, had long since become his tools to manage this burden, and his job.
He’d been mostly successful. He inhaled slowly through the nostrils on his beak–and frowned. It made a slight whistling noise. He tried to tune it out and regain the tranquility he needed.
After about a good thirty seconds, he could feel something–the pulse of his heart, running faster than a human heart. Not out of shape, but simply the result of different biology. He exhaled softly, and spread his wings gently, to the most ‘neutral’ state he could manage, where he barely even noticed them. It was difficult–their sensitivity to air currents let him know that there was a slight draft from the door and an air current from the forge.
After another few seconds, he could feel more than just his heart going. He could feel the pulse of an electrical charge, hiding in the shadow of his heartbeat. He could feel that pulse, ever so gently, radiating out with the softest of currents–down his torso, down his legs, to the tips of his claws, all the way to his wingtips and taloned feet. But, he didn’t focus on it. He focused on his core. Pondering what it meant.
Halsey, I feel that core…it’s like a physical manifestation in my chest. Is that…the shard?
Yes. However, you should talk to the others about what their knowledge can glean about the specifics. Or, you know, keep saying random things, and maybe we can unlock my memories. Siiiiigh. This is a mood, knowing someone stuffed me into that Etteria shard.
Yeah. I think we’ve reasonably concluded that. Unless there’s a gestalt that can send a whole personality, soul…thingy…through the air, into another person. But what you are, exactly, is still a mystery. Or…who you are.
I’m flattered that you think I’m a person.
If you’re an artificial construction, you’d pass the Turing test, by my book. You speak like a living person, with a grasp of language, and a sense of self-identity. You build on previous interactions. AI’s in my world, or constructs built of digital bits of information, are nowhere near that sophisticated. Yet. Alright, I need to focus for a few minutes.
He pondered this while feeling out that spark of energy in his core, and focused on nothing but that, and Halsey. The spark of energy had a rhythm that shadowed his own heart, now that he was tuned in. That faint pulse could be felt going outward to his extremities. But he only needed one outlet at a time. For now.
He kept his eyes closed. It was easier to focus his way, trying to get a small bit of that energy to travel in a specific direction; like cutting ice off a melting glacier, and letting it flow downstream.
Or, was the analogy of a glacier calving and dropping a big chunk of ice into the ocean, to slowly melt?
He frowned as he lost focus–he couldn’t feel the spark of energy as prominently, and he took a second to readjust. It didn’t take long once he found the rhythm again, with slow, measured breaths. He’d used this gestalt before, but now, he was testing to see what triggered it, to make it by willpower and on-demand, rather than panic reactions.
Because if he couldn’t use it when he needed it, he’d become monster food in this world of deadly predators and half-mad gods. And being dead would not protect Claire, or get Maggie home.
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You’re not splitting it off the energy, so much as redirecting current, like a simple logic gate. Now, which one are you trying for?
The force barrier. I can…sort of feel it on my claw-tips. Without opening his eyes, he flexed his hand gently, feeling that charge of energy running through his fingers. He directed that energy to an outlet. He supposed the natural extremities of his hands and feet would be easy, for now. He felt he could constrict and expand that flow path–not in the physical sense, and not with a binary approach–but more like a water spigot from the backyard, controlling the overall flow rate. A greater level of fidelity that he could dial in.
He heard a low hum as he felt the barrier slowly form around his hand. But he didn’t open his eyes, yet. He flexed his claws gently, feeling the barrier conform around his hand with an electric tingle. He was going by sound, and this other sense that wasn’t touch but…something else. Like he could detect the charge of the energy. It was a low hum. But, if he throttled it with a restrictor–
The hum increased in frequency. He dared to open his eyes, just a crack, and he saw the golden barrier of interlinked hexes flexing about a millimeter over his hand, and fading away as it spread further away from his fingers. He opened his palm gently, and the barrier receded a little, back toward his wrist. He closed his claws and formed a fist, and the barrier spread halfway up his arm.
You do love your experimentation, don’t you?
Error and trial–I mean, trial and error, Halsey. He could map the manipulation of the barrier to his hand movements, and he rotated his wrist, gently. The barrier followed along, conforming against his fingers with an electric buzz.
After several motions over the next few minutes, he concluded that he could do simple manipulation of the barrier to expand and contract. The smaller an area he focused the barrier, with a consistent slow trickle of energy flow he could ‘meter’ to it, the more intense the glow of the hexes became. And, they also split into a finer mesh.
A finer mesh. What did that mean? He went by his previous interaction with the barrier–how it had shielded against a pyrrhic blast and kept them all from being cooked, on the orbital platform. He must have used immense levels of energy–everything he had been brimming with–during that last effort. Halsey, take some notes for me. Actually…the glyphs you projected into my vision–or, something that gets between the optic nerve, and where it’s processed in the brain. Can you project something, other than words?
I’m not sure. I mean, I can try. Why?
Draw a circle. The most perfect circle you can imagine.
Where are you going with this?
An inkling of an idea. He flexed his claws before he mentally pushed the barrier away from him–outward, away from his body. It responded accordingly, and he focused his eyes on it, keeping his focus hand still. He used his other hand, trying to see if he could manipulate the barrier--changing variables in its construction.
There were several variables to consider. First, the geometry. Second, the intensity of the barrier--he could feel a tiny trickle charge of fatigue building. Not the instant fatigue accruement from before, but more the burning of lactic acid buildup for an extended run or exercising too intensely. Thirdly, the fidelity of the structure itself--how many of those little polygons formed per unit area. Fourth, the overall complexity of the geometry--was he making primitives, or something complicated?
There was one other factor: the interaction with the physical world. That was the biggest variable, how the barrier played against the other objects--texture, friction, permeability. or how it interacted with other gestalts. It could hold back fire and a concussive force, but could it hold back other things? or permit something else through it, a permeable barrier?
You're overthinking it. One step at a time.
Right, sorry. I'm new at this. This is untapped, unknown, and something worth being fascinated by. Halsey suppressed a chuckle inside his head, and her work was apparently wrapping up. She had overlaid a circle onto his vision. He brought the barrier up to it, and focused on using his free hand to shape the barrier. Somehow.
Could he do that?
He realized he was also feeling a lighter draining feeling only building in intensity. He filed it away as another observation: he was not an infinite well of energy like he was before. Halsey, take notes. I have a mana bar.
A what, now?
It’s sort of a joke. I’m trying to draw analogues between what I know, and what I’ve observed. I have a magic meter. I’m sure there’s only so much of this Etteria, or mana that I can store in my body–or elsewhere, and I’ll be out of juice. Then this barrier will probably pop. Can you calculate that?
That one’s going to be a little complicated, Shawn. I’d need time to figure that out. Plus, you know your own body better than I do. If it feels like you’re pushing too hard, stop. I’m sure that passing out is not good for your health–or, others relying on you.
He gave a soft wing shrug, since his hands were busy forming this barrier like clay. That’s a fair point. Let’s see if I can shape this the way I want…
He brought his hand up to the barrier, creasing the polygons with his touch, and felt an electric flow with his focus hand. Little electrical tingles went from his claw tips to the rough-hewn circle, glowing brightly now. In a way, he was shaping the barrier like putty, applying force to get the polygons to go in a way that he wanted. But, he could easily push too hard, and part of that barrier would crumble in a burst of tiny sparks. He had to reconstruct it by channeling more power from his core, and correcting his work when the shape loosened.
But, a few gentle hand motions allowed him to adjust it to a high degree of precision. With minute traces of a single claw, he smoothed out the edges, and his beak creased. Halsey, how close of a circularity is this to true?
While I have limited means to gauge other than your visual acuity…the runout is in the hundredths of a millimeter. I think Varrick had a gauge over there on the table, an old dial one. But I don’t think it’s sensitive enough to test this. Or, measure it before you lose focus.
It’s a start. If I can make circles, I can make other things. I just need to chug those Etteria potions for bigger stuff, probably. Though I’m pretty sure that one might have a practical limit, I’m not a human or Aveeran battery.
Now that he was holding the completed shape, he didn't have to mentally direct his focus--it held that rigid form on his own, without expending mental effort. Halsey, this has massive implications for castings. If this is thermally insulative, I can make...
his eyes widened. Halsey. if this is just limited by precision and time, I can make any three-dimensional object I want, with the right metal. Maybe we have to make some negative dies out of it for reproducibility, but--
Shush, nerd bird. You made a circle. Celebrate that. building bigger stuff is going to take time. And how, exactly are you going to be pouring molten metals into this?
He chuckled at the sass, before he directed a charge of Etteria to his free hand, and raised a feathery brow at the tiny flame now hovering over his fingertips, fueled by his will. That's how.
He willingly cut the energy flow off, and the barrier popped out of existence with a flash, and a few glowing motes of golden light. He let out a soft huff, and his fingers felt cramped--a sensation that faded over a minute. Well, that wasn’t bad for our first attempt. I made a circle out of a barrier. That’s good. We have other tests to run, too.
What is our next goal, anyway?
I want to build an upgraded lathe, a milling machine, and a lab bench for Claire. We need all of these things to start building the stuff I need. Or at least, make it quicker. I don't think I have the mental discipline to make gears or other complicated structures just yet. the milling machine shouldn't be terribly difficult to set up, provided we get a reliable power source, either hydro, or steam--
A knock at the door broke his focus, and he nearly jumped from his seat. He rose from his spot, and Varrick grumbled from his loft.
“Can you get that Shawn? Tell them I’m not doing any rush jobs, not at night,” he called out. Shawn stretched his limbs after sitting for a fair chunk of time, his wing joints needing a good stretch before he headed to the door, and unlatched it.
Regia was standing there, looking composed–and not wearing her uniform, but a more casual dark blue tunic. She had a bottle in hand, and she smiled. And, he noted, her feathers had been slicked back and looked a little less rugged.
“I heard about your little kerfuffle in town earlier, you and Claire. Also, I might have seen you working on your gestalt. Mind if I come in?”
Ruh-roh. Looks like Shawn has garnered attention. But what kind?
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