Interlude
SYDNEE IGLACIA
“We are joined by a very special guest,” Ripper Wonton said, his voice serious.
“We have no roundtable tonight, folks. It’s just me and bestselling author and crawl historian Sydnee Iglacia.
Her smash-hit book, having just passed a trillion copies sold, is entitled A Petite Chronicle of the Crawl: One Lady’s Journey into Enlightenment Through Knowledge and Scholarship and Three-Beat Poetry.
It is available at all way station bookstores and everywhere fine books are sold. Welcome, Sydnee.”
Sydnee shifted in her chair, simultaneously trying not to appear uncomfortable or eager.
This was her first one-on-one interview regarding the ongoing crisis.
She was filming this remotely from her apartment in the Makoka Cloud, an asteroid field just outside the limit of the center system’s sphere of influence.
The entire complex, along with the six adjoining habitats and the central community hub, was considered luxurious compared to most of the habitats in the Makoka Cloud, which was known for its crime and poverty.
Up until just a few short days ago, her apartment had been owned by a holding group that was controlled by the Prism.
But with D’Nadia’s death, whoever was running the Skull Empire in the absence of the royal family had already gobbled up all the real estate holdings of the group.
She’d just received notice that her rent was tripling starting the next crutch.
And that oxygen was no longer included in their rent.
She didn’t know what she was going to do.
Yes, her book was doing especially well.
But her publishers—a subsidiary of a Valtay company—with their fancy center system contracts were soulless, evil monsters.
Her contract had a hidden clause within it that allowed them to hold on to her meager royalties for the entirety of her natural life and they would only be payable to heirs after they proved that she had been of “good moral character” in her life and that the publisher wouldn’t have to spend the money they’d so graciously collected on her behalf defending their own reputation from her misdeeds.
These payments could be accelerated if she were to happen to sign a Valtay life contract, allowing herself to be taken over post-death by a worm.
That was not something Sydnee would ever dream of doing. At least it hadn’t been until her rent was tripled overnight.
Fuck the Valtay. Fuck the Skull Empire. And Fuck Empress D’Nadia, while she was at it. That woman should never have attempted to step into that sushi grinder. Not when so many depended on her.
Her publishing contract also required her to make multiple appearances, which was what she was doing now. Thankfully, she actually liked this part of the job. After all, that was why she had become a historian and a poet in the first place. To bask in the respect of others.
It rankled her that nobody saw the crawl for what it really was. A gravestone. A monument.
A warning.
But it was more than that. It was an epic poem chronicling the fall of the greatest civilization this galaxy, this universe, had ever known. And nobody cared. They just wanted to see the crawlers dying one by one.
Only now, with systems going dark, habitats disappearing, with war breaking out in all corners of the galaxy, were they coming to her for counsel.
Well, not counsel. But this interview was going to be a good start.
“Hi, Ripper,” Sydnee said, trying to match the host’s somber tone.
It would have been bad form to appear excited.
She’d never been on Danger Zone before, and she had been excited to be invited, though she’d been intimidated by the idea of sitting in a roundtable.
People always spoke over her in roundtables.
They made fun of her. They never let her get her point across.
But this was to be a rare one-on-one. If only her mother could have seen her now.
Sydnee knew that Ripper was trapped in Earth orbit.
He’d come to the Earth system in anticipation of being an adjutant for Faction Wars, but he’d never been chosen.
She also suspected that he’d wanted to go down to Club Scolopendra but probably couldn’t afford the rate, instead settling in one of the multiple journalist barges, which was lucky for him considering what was happening down there.
These same barges were now under control of OIAN forces, though the “terrorists” were allowing the stranded journalists to keep working.
And in fact, they were allowing them to air their reports without the censorship filters.
She knew those in the center system had built-in homegrown censors, but for those in the Makoka Cloud and everyone else out in the wide galaxy, they were finally getting unfiltered news, which was a relief.
“Sydnee, you along with everyone else saw the Plenty’s announcement that they’ve lost control of the tunnel network outside the center system.
Now, with the Scolopendra attacks starting and the eleventh floor about to begin, I’ve brought you here to live-comment on anything the AI might say. Any opening thoughts?”
Okay. Here we go. Her tentacles undulated under her dress. Her neighbor was screaming at his wife again, and she hoped the system didn’t pick up the noise.
“Yes, Ripper,” Sydnee said. “Not only was this predicted a long time ago, but it’s actually happened before. We have a fairy tale that lays the whole thing out. But here’s the thing. It’s not a fairy tale. It really happened, and history has a way of repeating itself.”
“Explain that.”
“To understand, you first need to understand the Scolopendra myth as it exists in our fairy tales. More specifically, you need to understand the myth behind what we call the nine-tier attack.”
“Okay. Tell us.”
Sydnee nodded. She’d only told them a little of what she was planning on talking about. If she’d told them everything, she was afraid they’d never have let her on. But this was live, and he was trapped.
“In the common understanding of the fairy tale and in the dungeon itself,” Sydnee said, “the nine-tier attack is a magical assault that is considered to have been nine different, rapid, devastating spells that spread out from the beast, either all at once or in succession. These nine spells had vastly different effects, such as the transformation we’ve already seen, outright killing people, et cetera.
But if you read the earliest translations of the myth, it’s a little less straightforward than that.
In the original myth, there were indeed nine attacks, but not all of them were physical.
Some were what we might call psychological attacks that resulted in rapid social movements, shifts in philosophy.
Attack one was taking control of the infrastructure, but the second and third attacks were more social in nature.
That, of course, doesn’t make for a good fairy tale because it’s too complicated to explain to children.
So that’s how the myth of the nine-tier attack was born. ”
“Wait,” Ripper said. “You’re saying this really happened? How?”
“It’s very real,” Sydnee said. “We know very, very little about the Primals. They disappeared, leaving only remnants of their civilization. That biggest, most important remnant is, of course, the Eulogist. The center system where many people live. But because we need to keep the center system fed and active, we have the crawl, which in itself is based on the creation of the center system. But as we all know, that myth begins and ends with the nine-tier attack. In the myth, Scolopendra awakens, charges up its attack, and attempts to wipe out all life. But another of its kind tempers the attack, and civilization—barely—survives, only to rise again, only for the cycle to repeat. That’s the philosophical question the Scolopendra myth asks.
If life is imperfect, what do we do about it?
Is it better to end it all and just be done with it, or do we stop it, knowing that if we do that, the suffering will continue? Does the good outweigh the bad?”
“Okay . . .” Ripper began. “What does any of that have to do with—”
But Sydnee continued, speaking over Ripper. She was doing it. She was getting it out there. This was so much better than her stupid poetry. Yes, people bought her book, but nobody understood it.
“This is happening again. Scolopendra in the dungeon has awakened, it has unleashed its first attack, and it will undoubtedly kill everyone in there at any moment. But here’s my theory.
Many people don’t seem to realize this, but the Eulogist is the source of the original nine-tier attack.
I believe that Earth system AI, which has escaped containment, will not only be the source of the new attack, but I believe it has already started.
It escaped and took control of the tunnel system.
We are seeing the dungeon gods leaking. Syndicate forces are unable to respond.
You, Ripper, are trapped in the system because it’s not letting you leave.
That was attack number one of nine. Control.
Attack number two is going to start the moment this eleventh floor starts.
It already said this out loud. Even in the histories, the second and third attacks, these social movements, had names. ”
“What were the names?”
“The first attack is about control. The second attack in the old histories has a name. When translated, it is called A Parade of Horribles. It’s right there in the text.”
“Wait,” Ripper said. “No shit? You’re telling me in the histories, like the things written down before this season started, the old nine-tier attack had, obviously, nine parts, and the first attack was controlling the tunnel system. And the second attack was called A Parade of Horribles?”
“Yes, Ripper, that’s what I’m telling you.”
And that’s when all the monitors in the studio changed to a screen showing nothing but a flowing star field.
“Uh, hang on, Sydnee,” Ripper said. “Guys, what the hell is this?”
To Sydnee’s left, the screen that was nothing more than a pretend window normally showing a comforting swamp had switched to mimic the star field. Through the wall, her neighbor was screaming.
“Gods,” Ripper said. He looked at her across the virtual stage.
“I guess the AI has taken over all the feeds. It’s not going to let us live-comment.
” He laughed nervously. “Let’s, uh, continue the conversation while we watch.
We’ll record it and show it later if we can.
Tell me more about this Parade of Horribles thing. What is it?”
“I don’t actually know,” Sydnee said, eyes firmly on the monitor. “I guess we’re about to see. It’s really more about what happens after. How people react.”
“And how do they react?”
Sydnee smiled. “It’s after this attack when the people finally learn what is happening and panic really starts to set in.
It’s here where the fabric of society truly starts to crumble.
It goes tentacle in tentacle with the third attack, where people accept their fate and turn on one another.
They say once that happens, it’s too late to stop it. ”
Ripper just looked at her, a horrified expression on his fuzzy face. “You’re saying this eleventh floor, which is about to start, is the second attack? What’s the third attack called?”
“This Inevitable Ruin. And the fourth is called Bedlam. It gets a little fuzzy after that.”
“Huh,” he said. “Who is the one who stops it, and how?”
“Well, we don’t really know what happened in real life, but many people believe the Apothecary is the one who stopped it.
In the fairy tale, the princess takes control of the all-tree by killing it, accidentally killing everyone she loves in the process.
But this tempers the final attack, saving the galaxy.
She then plants another tree, and this process starts all over again.
Don’t ever forget, this story is a tragedy. ”