odyssey.module2


> may you find strength in suffering

🌲

A crisp, thin mist settles along the shores of the island.

Alex treads through tall grass, up the rolling hill toward the dark woods adorning the island’s peak. Bubbles float up from the wet grass as he parts it, tickling his legs, coating his bare calves in fresh dew.

“At the peak, you’ll find a temple,” Soren’s voice replays in his head.

“It’s your temple, Alli,” Carson’s voice echoes.

Alex marches up the hill, its slope getting steeper, the grass getting taller, engulfing his shoulders, his feet getting heavier as the dirt between his toes thickens into mud.

“How did I get here?” He asks the island. No reply but the sloshing of the mud around his feet. Wrong question. “What am I supposed to find here?”

The strong smell of burning pine wafts downhill from the woods, carrying with it a memory of distant words. “Something you lost after Mom passed away,” a voice murmurs on the wind.

“What did I lose?” The grass surrounding Alex peels away into a black sea of tall, swaying trees. The dark canopy above swallows the light of the Moon and her million stars.

“You lost nothing of value,” a gruff voice calls back. A brooding breeze sweeps through the trees, ruffling their black leaves, slowly pulling a heavy fog down through the canopy.

“Who’s there?” Alex calls out, the mud around his feet rising, filling with coarse stones and grit, wet fog seeping in from the treetops.

“You lost your passion, Alli,” a young girl’s voice whispers through the looming fog. “You lost your heart. You lost your happiness.”

“You lost NOTHING, Alexis.” The gruff man shouts back. “You lost only your aimlessness. You finally became the man you needed to be. The man THE WORLD needed you to be.”

Alex remembers that voice. “Dad?” He yells out to the ghosts. The fog crawls down his shoulders, mud and moss soaking his legs as he trudges through the hazy, haunted swamp. “Dad? Where are you?”

“Don’t go to him!” The girl’s voice cries out. “Go find Mom! Go find what you lost with her!”

“You will do as you’re told, young man!” His father’s command echoes through the thick fog.

“No! You can refuse to fight, Alli!”

Alex heaves his tired legs through the murky waters. “Don’t analyze it, just keep moving,” he tells himself. “Keep moving.” The peak is up ahead somewhere beyond all this fog. “Keep moving.”

“It’s just moss!” The girl’s voice rings out. “Don’t be such a baby!”

“Alli, you feelin’ alright? You got a brain fog?” A voice replays.

“Don’t analyze it, just keep moving,” Alex repeats to himself.

“After she passed, you were finally free to pursue your purpose,” his father’s voice shakes the trees again.

“Don’t analyze it, just keep moving,” he chants to himself, stomping through swamp muck and reeds.

“The best augmentations, the best education, best training, best genes money could buythe ultimate warrior!” The ghost of General Altair shouts out to his prodigal son.

“Don’t analyze it, just keeping moving.”

“She took humanity’s greatest defense against the machines, our greatest defense against the Singularity—she took you, Alexis Altair!—and she let you squander your gifts on dancing and fruity art!”

“Don’t analyze it, just keeping moving.”

“We made all the way to high school together!” The girl’s voice returns. “And now you ain’t even gonna be at the Palace no more!”

Alex pauses, h̵̡̪̼̗͓̣̝̄̊̂̀͗̚͘e̸̯̬͍̚r̷̬̟̊͂͋ w̸h̶i̸t̵e̶ ̴̥̙̿̎g̶̡̩̍r̶a̵d ḋ̸̬̜͐ŕ̷͓̮ȅ̵̞̟̜͇̩̌̎͘͠s̵ś̴̼͈͍̦͕̰̈́̂̌̿ soaked in muddy confusion—the young girl suddenly sounds familiar. “Carr . . . is that you?”

“DON’T ANALYZE IT,” his father’s voice howls. “KEEP MOVING.”

The fog thickens, darkens into a tarry haze, filling Alex’s lungs with panic as he struggles to press onward, small inhale, small step forward, throat tightening, body fading, can’t exhale, can’t inhale, c̴̯̊ã̴̝ṋ̷͘’̷̛̤t̸̚ͅ ̴̜̈́e̵͊ͅx̵̫͛h̵̤͝a̶̝̔l̶͔͗ē̷̞,̵̟͊ ̴͍͋c̷̛̯ä̷̜n̸͖͊’̸̖̏t̷͕͘ ̷͇̽í̷̥n̷̲̄h̴̙̿a̸̟͘l̷̞̔è̴͓,̴̥̕ ̸̪̿c̸͇̄a̴͚͋n̷̯̿’̶̥͂t̷̮͗ ̶͈͋e̶̦̽x̶̞͋ĥ̴͕á̴̜l̷͖͠e̸̝̽, dark fog descending, mud bath, c̶̟̿a̸̤͊n̶̗͌’̶̳̑ṯ̷̅ ̴͈̄m̶̭̕o̶̼͛v̴͙͝e̸̬͊, legs softening, can’t see,c̷͎̼̳̍͑̄̽̉̋͘a̸̮͊́̌̃̎̿͝ǹ̷͈̼̾’̷̼̲͉̻̄͘ṯ̷͙͍̭̈́̈̾̒ ̷̧̼̻̠̋̔̔̌͗͘į̶͖̮̞̠̽̈́̏͐͘͠ǹ̸̢͔͚͖h̴͈̔̈́̈͂̿͠͠ȧ̴̯͙͉͍̭́́l̵̮͕̠̘͖̔̽͊̽͐͜͝͝ͅe̷͉̽,̵͍̳͍͖̓̈́̽͐̋̇ͅ ̶̢̡̥̓͛̆̓̌͌c̵̥̱̓͝a̷͉̤̲̲̽̄́͂̏͘͠n̶͈̥̅’̴̨̬̣̻͙̱̳̓͂̚͝ţ̶̱̠̬̳̤̻͋͑̓̓͐̚ ̵̜͎̱̳̲̍́͆͆̊̕͝e̷̡̺̳̋̉̌͒͋̕ͅx̵̲̃̅̃͜͜ͅh̵̡̛̭̟͊̈́̂͠à̶̢̝͕̥̺̣̮͆͋͐l̸̡̘̦̻̦͓͗̓̓̾͌̃ȇ̸̢̢͚̞͔͌, “Don’t just stand there, fight me!”, č̶̻͓͚̄̑̂ạ̸̧̢̗͍̅̾͐͝͠ͅn̸̽̎̿ͅ’̶̮͙̰̣̹̥͌͗ț̶̡̗͒̅̔ ̵̦̊͐̇͘m̴̧̻̂̊̾̽̚o̶̺͙̻̟̍v̸̪͔͑͂̅ḛ̸̑̓̈́ͅ,̸̧̟͚̖̱̈́̍ ̸̙͎̭̀̀̌̋͝c̴̮̠̗͖̈́̈́̕a̵̡̼̍̊n̴̬̚’̶̢͇̟͋̃̊́t̸̛̞̣̟̣̠͚̓̐̈̋́̆ͅ ̵̨͉͕͙͐͝ş̸̮͎̩͐͂̔͛e̸̦̾̈́͐e̶̛͍̰̣͚̩͕͖̾̇̒,̷̢̻̖̥̥͂͋ ̵͕̟̳́̒͒c̸̢͇͍̰̝͆͛͒́͋͑͘ã̸̺ņ̵̛̔̅’̷̯̪̞̜̃̾͝t̶͚̥̺͉͊̀̎͌ ̴̮̠̲̝̹̊̀͊̆͋̐̚͜ȅ̴̡̩̗̼̖̯͈̇̾̚̕x̶̹̻͉̙͈̌̈́̓̅̅͝͝h̵͇̞̬̖̳̀͑̀̆̿a̴͔̬̟͍̅̆͛͠ḻ̵͔͔̃͌͐̇ȇ̵̲̏̀̈́̾͝, c̴̜̟͕̫̬̊̓̿̀̽̄͛̇͝͝ͅą̵̡̪̫̹̟̼͔̤̯̄͊͐̃n̷̨̧̠̠̘̫̱̾̆͆̾̇͋͋̕’̷̨͖͐̈̈́̓̽̓̚̚͠ṯ̴̝̭̲̞͉̈́͛͛̀̉̈́̏͝ ̸̨̜̳̣̫̱͈̣̣͐͆̎̑̂̉͋̐̆̚̚͝ę̴̤͔̱͚̦̺̠̬͕͚̈́́̎̏͆̇x̶͇̖͈̖̜̺́͛̾͐ḩ̵̠͇̞̺̘̼̻̉́̑͑́a̷̢̧̹͙͓͉̬̪̽l̶͔͕̣̦͍̮̩̹͇̎̏̀͝ͅę̴̹̪̉̀͛̊,̴͈͙̣̖̻͇͐̅͊͐̾ ̷͉̙̅̄̂̽̇͗̏͜c̴̯̲͓͉̯̟̈̈́͂̒͝a̴̡̪͉͔̞̜̜̗̺̒͊͛̇́̒̈́͜͝n̴̢̢̙̗͉͚̪͌̑͗̑̌́͘̚͝’̸̮̽̏̽́̈̃̋̒̉͠ṱ̸͕̞̱̈́́ͅ ̶̧͙̬͖͈̇͝ͅè̵̡̦̬̙̹͇̪̽́̕͘ͅͅx̶̨̠͕̞̜̹͙̥̀̏̈́̃̈̈͘͠ͅh̴̥͐͗̈́̽̈́̔̓̓̀͂̿̕ȃ̷̧̢͚͙̔̌̄̎̓̕͜͝͝͠l̶̡̥͚̚ȩ̴͚͙͕̺͚͕̞̦̮̎̈́̔͒̅̉̑̑̿͠,̵̧̺̬͇̔͒̂̆͂̈́̉̋ ̸̢̙͈̬̼̝̱̜̻̤̕ͅc̵̜͍̳̹̠̣̮̏̊ͅa̵̛̯̬͙̙̘͙͛̈̈́̑̚͜ͅn̸̢̛͈̝̩̤̺̖̠̈́̌́̓̔͒̾͗̇̎͠’̸͚̻͙̓͑t̴͙̍̃̈́̈́̈́̕͝͝͝ ̸̧̭̜̳͖͍͔́̑̍̈́̑̒m̴̥̞̟͇̥͔̞̺͍̌̍͛̈̑̇̕ö̶̖͚̮́̔̅̈͂͗̄̐̃̊͝v̵̨̱͙̻̗͓̳̔ͅȩ̴̢̭̟̫̝̼̺̫̫̱̫̊̓,̷̣̠̰̻̲̟̘̝̹̣̽͜ ̵̨͈̭̹̻̻̬͈̺͍̜͕͋̆̏̓̍̆͊̊̋͘c̴͚̹͈͇̻̍̑͑̓̈́͌̏̚͜á̶̧̨̰̹͎̣̟ͅn̵̼̆̑̾͌̂’̶̼̪͙̯́̆͂̃̄̋̒͑̾̃͠t̵̜̏ ̵͕̺̰̘̓̍̄́̍͊͋̃͝ͅi̷̧̡̡̛͇̱̘͖̭̥͕̬͈̓̾̀̿n̶̨̨̬̙͈͇̘̋̿͆̊̄̈͛̒̀̀̆̕h̸̞̜͇͇͖̣̱̙̙̱̰͒̾́̓̊̿͗͑̾́͑̄ͅa̴̡̮̳̤̅͊̆͒̋̂̉͗̓͒̓ͅl̷̛̳̞̦̾̆̌̍̅̐e̷̝̱͕̓̉

Red light blinks, “RESPOND,” Aeschylus commands, combat instincts kick in, don’t analyze, just act fast, hand tightens, longsword pops into Alex’s waiting grasp.

“Fight back, boy!” His father’s words echo from beyond the haunted haze.

Alex slashes his giant blade through the haze, arms stiffening into steel, legs swelling with power as he strides through the heavy mud, slicing away at the darkness surrounding him.

“That’s it! Now hit me harder, boy!”

Alex grasps the hilt of his sword with both hands as the blade becomes longer, broader, his chest growing, shoulders hardening, massive arms swelling as he hoists the colossal sword into the air and swings it through the fog with all his strength.

“Yes! Good!” His father’s laughter fills the air.

Alex swings again, again, again, ripping through the fog, carving the mud out of his path.

“C’mon, is that all you’ve got?” His father chides.

Alexis screams out, raging against the fog, “2x!”

Neural implants erupt with new data, his brain buzzes with energy, floods with chemicals, head pulsing with double consciousness, body pulsing with double power, atoms and molecules come into sight, hidden patterns in the crude matter of the mud, the fog, the haunted bog now revealed to his overclocked mind.

“KEEP MOVING!” He commands himself.

The sword melts away from his hands. He charges forward, his cells re-arranging, every atom in his body vibrating, re-aligning, smooth legs gliding like razors through the heaping mass of the mud, seamlessly, effortlessly, his wild hands shredding through the wall of fog.

“Yes, Alexis! Excellent!” His father’s laughter booms through the air again. “Strike with purpose!”

Alex screams at the swamp, screams at his father, screams at himself, screams at all the damned ghosts of this fucking island, “̷̖̌K̶͔̃É̵͎E̷̠̕P̷̦̄ Ṃ̵̓Ỏ̸̻V̶̱͋I̸̹̅N̷͓͊G̴̡̾!̵̗̐”̷̤̓ The fog and darkness blow away as she flies through them, the mud turns to air, the trees and the island dissolve into a sea of light as she soars upward to find the island’s peak, but there is only the sea of light, only silence, only confusion, only the deceptive calm of the Command Deck, only the b̶o̴d̷y̶-̷m̴̞͚̙̑̈́̿̎̇͠è̶͓̩̞̺͋̕l̶̨̫̙͈̄̈͒̂͝t̸̤̞̜̫͋͋̄̌̇̓̕i̶͓͆̅́̎̌͘͝͝n̶̩͍̪͔͚̆͗́́̌̚ğ̴̢̛̖͇̰̺̼̘̔͐ ̵m̶o̵m̴e̵n̵t̵ ̶o̶f̷ ̵t̵r̷a̶n̵s̸f̵i̷g̶u̴r̷a̶t̴i̴o̵n̴, only criss-crossed memories of the War, uncontrollable data dump, sunflowers in the palace gardens, tea with Mom and Carson, woods beyond the palace where they used to play, the move to Hudson, the hypertrain from Berlin, hiking after school with Soren, where is the peak? I̷s̶ ̵t̶h̸i̶s̴ ̸t̵h̵e̶ ̴m̸e̴t̶a̴v̷e̸r̸s̶e̸?̷ ̵I̶s̶ ̸t̸h̷i̷s̸ ̶r̸e̵a̴l̵i̵t̵y̸?̴ ̴I̵s̷ ̷t̷h̷i̶s̴ ̸v̶i̸r̴t̴u̶a̵l̵?̴I̵̛͔s̸͇̽ ̷̥̚t̸̨̓h̴̡͌ȋ̸̖s̷͖͒ ̶̈́͜a̵̫͌ ̴̨̍d̸̰̒r̶̩̊e̶̝͐ä̸͙m̵͚̍?̷̱̉ ̵̛͈Ï̵̘s̷͓͐ ̸͚̒t̴̰̅h̵͔̎ḯ̴̧s̷̱̏ ̵͙̓d̶̦̓e̶̙̎a̸͔̍t̴̨̒ḧ̷̗́?̷͈̒ Where is everyone? “Where did they all go??” W̵̗͋͜h̵͖͇̍̄e̶̠̔r̵̭̊͗e̷̺̓ ̸̰͋ḭ̷͌͊ș̵͝ ̴̰̺̓͌t̴͍̍͐h̴̥̉̂i̶̢̞͂͆s̵͉̍͐ ̵͚̲̑̕p̵̩͆͜l̷͔͗̽a̶̻͐c̶̪̦̓e̵̺̞͛?̶̡̒ W̴̧̜̝̗̗͇͕͌͒̽̏̂̃̉̈́͠H̷̥̉͋̆͒̃̚͘Ȩ̶̲̘͙̻̭͇̜̎͋͐̽̒͜R̷̢̳͇̮̒̍͊̌̏̿͋̊͠Ẹ̴̠̞͔͐̐ ̸̛̪̗̜̫͋̒̕͝Ḯ̷̭̄̑̆̅̍̕S̸͖͇̮̩̙̞͆̃̂͑̉̍̑̃͆ ̸̛̜͓̩̃̅̌͝͠T̵̗̞̊̇͋̈́̋̿͊̏H̵̫̖̖̆͊́͛̽͋͐͑͛Ḛ̶͙̏̏̓͂̅͋͋̍ ̴̻̠̼̱̿̌̈́͗̈́̂̚Ï̴̻̩̺̖͍͎̎͒͛S̵͔̲̻͖͝Ļ̷̨̛͚͚̥͍̫̤̗̈́̈́̐͘̕Ā̴̩̹̪͔̍̄͊͜͠N̵̻̱̺̙̙͊͑̈́͜D̴̮̭̬͙̲͈̐͆͊͋̉͘͜͠͝?̴̫̟͔͇̮͎͚̑̐͌̋̈ ̸̫̺͇̔̈͐̑W̷̡̡̛̪̰͔̹̺̪̏͝͝Ȟ̵̫̬̖̫̀́̊͌͂͠͝ͅͅE̸̺̜͇̣̱͉͒͊̈̾̔̊̒R̶̢͓͓̤͋̕̚E̴̮̺̙̒͊̆̿͘̕ ̸̢̳̼͖͇͖̗̊I̶̮̺̗̖͎͆͒͐̓̍͘Ş̴̠̘̩̥̯͈̣̖̋̓̽͐͋̒͠ ̷̡͇̠̹̜̈́̉̚͠Ţ̷̲̦͎͖͈̀̑̊̿͋H̵̩͕̺͔̓͒̔E̸̯̠̠̱̤͛̑̐͘͜ ̷̟̭̲͙̇̽̀̃̏̈̒P̶̨̞̣̹͖̃ͅȨ̵̨͕̬͔̪̩͚̭͂Ȃ̷̟̟̖̠̈́͐͛͝͝K̸̜̀͊͂̀̂͒̏͘͝?̸̡̙̮̣͍̮̜̣̃̽ͅ

The surge of dysphoria stops. Alex feels a warm hand on his shoulder blessing him, a smiling giant towering over him. He looks up to see the harsh eyes of his father soften with pride.

“You’ve become so strong, son.”

> unknown neural interfacing error

> cannot continue processing this fragment

> flushing memory cache . . .

> loading next fragment into memory . . .