#torvah: [read 5:26 pm]

[cloudbattrolls]

Wasn't It A Lovely Night

Guardian Artifice | 463.5 sweeps prior | Civitrecce

The artifice jumped down into the maintenance tunnel, then walked as quickly as it could without breaking into a run. It still wasn’t quite used to its second body yet, the lack of a heavy tail both freeing and disorienting.

It looked left and right. No trolls, it thought. It couldn’t hear any. Torvah promised that one night it would have all sorts of sensors and detection.

Torvah promised a lot of things.

It walked along and found its current favorite hiding place in a treatment room, quiet and cool and above all, away from prying eyes. It closed the door behind it.

Trolls were…fine. But they were a lot. They were so curious. They were so…expectant.

Each of them wanted different things. Felt different things. Acted on those feelings and wants differently, or not at all, or in a sideways sort of way where they didn’t want to say what they really meant.

It sat down on a chair, hands clenched by its sides.

It didn’t need to breathe. Its ‘lungs’ were mostly for speaking. Its cells were all tiny pieces of machinery, interlocking chains in a grand design fueled by sunlight and psiionic power. 

But it needed some way to steady itself, and it didn’t want to break the chair, so it still drew in shaky breaths.

It would go back out. It had to try again. It couldn’t protect people without understanding them properly…

But they wanted to understand it too, and that’s where the trouble started.

Are you a troll?

Do you want to be a troll?

Are you like, a child, because you’re so young, or more like an adult?

How much of you is programming? Are you really alive?

Just let it do its job! Agh! What did they need all this information for? It was supposed to the one collecting information! 

Unfortunately, it had to learn to bear it.

They need to be able to trust their security system, Arty, Torvah had said gently. You can’t just observe from a distance and hope to do your best that way. 

If you don’t understand what truly drives trolls, you won’t be able to respect them and shield them from the dangers of the world.

“Do you understand trolls?” It muttered. 

Torvah was smart, but it’d come to realize that sometimes the yellowblood didn’t have much common sense. 

They meant well. Torvah had enough good intent to make almost everyone smile at them, enough willingness to see things through that their city was well underway after a few short sweeps. This maintenance tunnel hasn’t existed six perigees ago. 

This room had been finished four perigees and two weeks prior. Arty traced idle patterns on the very new metal floor with the tip of its sandal.

Maybe it should establish some sort of queue for questions or something. That would be less overwhelming.

It refused to ask Torvah for help. It needed to handle this itself.

“Arty?” Came a voice from outside the closed door.

“Leeson.” It groaned.

“So you are in there.” Said an amused, Eirish-accented voice they knew very well.

“No, this is a recording. I actually jumped into the sea.” It said, sarcastic.

“That’s too bad. And here I had a new stuffed animal for you.”

It sat bolt upright, attentive.

“I can basically feel the eagerness.” He said, still amused. “Can I come in?”

“It’s not even locked.” They muttered, as the door gently swung inward and the skinny blueblood walked in. “Torvah doesn’t like it when I lock things.”

He winced in sympathy.

“Well…the last time you did…”

It looked away. Ghosts of broken objects and past screaming stretched between them.

“Anyway.” He said, trying to lighten the mood as it looked somewhat towards him, though its green-slitted black eyes still flicked off toward the side. “Here.”

He took out a small stuffed fish. It wasn’t even all that well made, not like the Guinea pig one Torvah had given it, a keepsake from the region its creator come from.

Arty snatched it from his hands so quickly a breeze wafted over the pair, cradling it gently in its metallic, segmented fingers.

“One of these nights you’re going to take my wrist with you.” The kookaburra troll said, shaking his head.

The artifice ignored him, examining the plush from every angle, to the uneven button eyes, the gaping, slack-jawed mouth with clumsily sewn felt teeth, and the slightly droopy fins.

“It’s perfect.” It breathed. “Thank you.” It remembered to add, before tucking it away in its own sylladex.

He smiled, his pointy ears flicking.

“Well…I can say I didn’t see you for another hour or so, but then we really do need you up there.” The blueblood said, a bit sheepish. “Torvah assigned you to one of the construction crews; everyone will be too busy pushing and lifting to ask you much.”

“Fine.” It said dismissively.

It was, actually, but it wished the yellowblood had asked. What if it had wanted to do some other sort of work?

No, it was only supposed to make choices when it was convenient for the Machinat.

It looked at Leeson.

“What if I ever wanted to leave?”

He blinked, his two-colored blue eyes surprised behind his glasses.

“I…why would you want to leave, Arty? Where would you go?”

It paused.

“I don’t know. But what if I ever wanted to? Has Torvah thought about that? Do they even care?”

He sighed and scratched his freckled neck, looking awkward.

“They do care, Arty, they’re just…busy. It would be dangerous for most of us to leave anyway. You’re one of the few people who could. Well. If you had a way to somehow trick the empire into thinking you were a troll.”

“Am I really that different from you?” They demanded. “I mean! I am. But in some ways, I’m not. If people didn’t know what I was already…”

It looked at the ceiling, ears flicking as it sighed happily at the thought.

“If no one knew who I was, I could blend in…trolls aren’t so hard to mimic. It’s a question of pretending to not know a lot of things.” They murmured. “Of following all these unwritten and unsaid rules. I could learn to do it perfectly, just give me a little time.”

Leeson looked uncomfortable.

Arty frowned in annoyance, but then it sighed, raising its hands in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, how high was that on the scale?”

“Maybe a 7.” Said Leeson with the barest hint of humor.

“It was more like a 6.” They argued. “It wasn’t that creepy!”

“Arty.” He said, fondly but with a bit of weariness. “You look like us, but you aren’t one of us. Trolls are hardwired to fear anything too close to us that’s still very different on the inside.”

“I know.” It muttered.

Leeson had been nervous around it at first; he has always been honest about that. He had, slowly, come to understand the artifice despite his wariness. 

Better than Torvah understood it, Arty thought, though it would never say it out loud. Such words would crush its creator’s heart.

He stretched out a slender hand to the system.

Arty sighed, but took it.

“Let’s go see Process first.” Leeson said, trying to be cheerful as they walked back out into the tunnel.

“What does Pro want?” Arty said with a snort.

“Nothing, I just thought it would be nice if we visited.”

“Pro doesn’t care if we visit.” Retorted the artifice. “Pro’s even busier than Torvah.”

“Arty…” said Leeson chidingly.

“Fiiiiine.”

It dutifully followed without further complaint as the two climbed a ladder back up to the surface, instead taking this time to enjoy being back within signal range of its extensions.

Now it could see the city properly again, from multiple perspectives and angles. The moons shown down, half full and crescent, and unlike the cool dryness of the tunnels a warm wind blew through the Santai Claria valley and the fledgling settlement quickly rising up within it.

As it walked with its friend, it flew one of its bugs around to bother Process, darting around its helms as they repaired clothing and dodging their attempts to swat it.

Unfortunately, its primary body’s mouth giggled involuntarily. 

A few passing trolls on the street looked at it, but they looked away and went about their business.

Leeson raised his eyebrows.

It attempted to look innocent.

“What did you do.”

“I’m not discussing anything without my lawyer.” It said placidly.

He snorted. “You stole that from Yathin.”

“I will only consent to be prosecuted for theft in court.” It replied, chipper.

“We need a better legal system than the one we have right now, that’s for sure.” Muttered the bird troll, running a hand through his messy shoulder-length curls.

Arty hummed in agreement. Civitrecce’s current one was…well, it’d admit it wasn’t Torvah’s fault. They only had so many hours in the night, and sometimes the day, sweating in their workshop or in extended meetings with the city council until Leeson made them go to bed.

So the system wasn’t great, nor was it finished aside from bare-bones provisions for basic crimes and registrations. The city trolls were still deep in debates about how to write better laws than the empire had, and everyone had a different opinion on what exactly ‘better’ meant.

I KNOW IT’S YOU, GUARDIAN.

“Tell it to the dirt!” Arty called back to the AI’s monotone voice now coming from a nearby speaker on a railing. 

I SUPPOSE THE DIRT MIGHT BE A BETTER LISTENER.

“Silly Pro, dirt doesn’t have ears.” Arty shot back breezily. “I think you’re getting old.”

YOU AGE ME PREMATURELY. I SOMETIMES FIND IT DIFFICULT TO BELIEVE YOU WERE FASHIONED FROM MY CODE.

“Is it because I’m so much cuter?” Arty said, putting a hand to its chin.

WHO EXACTLY HAS EVER PUT FORTH THIS OPINION?

“I just know.” The artifice retorted, as they glared at Leeson for poorly containing his kookaburra-like laughter.

SOURCE: IT CAME TO ME IN A DREAM.

“Shuuut uuup.” Sang the system back at the AI, as it and Leeson finally came to the Spine it inhabited.

It was still very basic, the short tower that resembled the skeletal structure it was named for, and the helms who could easily slip in and out of its wires once they’d filled their shifts powering the AI. 

Torvah kept wanting to improve it, but Process insisted they focus on the city first, the needs of the trolls in it. They’d agreed, expression tight with remorse and restraint, but Arty knew they wished they had more time to help their friend. 

There was only one other helmstechnician in the place. While she was good, no one could match the Machinat, who could manipulate flesh and tech at will. It frustrated the yellowblood, their inability to share the immense benefits of their psiionics with others. 

Arty was the closest they had gotten. 

Process’s code. Torvah’s own modified flesh, a replacement for the altered corpse the artifice had first inhabited. Other constructed materials Leeson and some craftstrolls had helped with.

The AI’s flickering projection appeared, the quality still often marred by static, but at least their face and flat expression were clear enough to be made out.

WHAT DO YOU WISH OF ME, LEESON?

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just here to say hi, Process.”

YOU HAVE SAID IT. I HAVE MUCH TO ATTEND TO, AND THE GUARDIAN IS NOT HELPING.

Arty sighed and stopped its bugs from spelling ‘boring’ in the air around Process’s helms. The assembled trolls shook their heads and went back to their work. Process's expression became unfocused again, a sign it was devoting its computing power to doing analysis or other work to run the city.

Leeson reached out to squeeze Arty’s hand and it hmphed.

“Let’s just chat.” He said gently. “You deserve a break.”

I DO NOT NEED BREAKS.

“No, but isn’t there anything you want to do for yourself?”

I WOULD LIKE TO WORK.

He sighed dramatically. 

“Oh, and devoting some focus to hearing about my building plans is too much? I see how it is.” Lesson said faux-innocently, whistling as he put his hands in his pockets.

Arty snickered.

Process’s expression came back into focus and changed marginally. 

I SUPPOSE I CAN SPARE TWENTY MINUTES.

“Right-o.” Said the blueblood cheerfully, pulling out a blanket and a picnic basket from his sylladex.

Arty half threw itself on said blanket, landing with a thud and lifting the basket lid with two slim fingers even though it didn’t need to eat.

“Fried crickets again? You’re practically half made of those.” It said to Leeson, shaking its head.

He shrugged and took the bag of bugs out, opening it and popping a few into his mouth. “They’re good.” He said between loud, crunchy bites.

“Imagine having a digestive system. Couldn’t be me.” Arty chirped as it took its new stuffed fish out again and propped it up against the basket.

NOR ME.

“I guess I have to represent my species.” Said the blueblood with a chuckle, unscrewing the lid of his water bottle.

IF I HAD TO CHOOSE SOMEONE TO REPRESENT TROLLKIND, LEESON, I THINK YOU WOULD BE POTENTIALLY BE A GOOD OPTION.

He blinked. “Really? I thought you’d say Torvah.”

THE MACHINAT MIGHT NOT BE PERCEIVED AS ENTIRELY TROLL. 

He sighed. “My dear heart is…mostly troll.”

THE LINE IS THIN, FOR ONE WHO CAN BECOME COMPLETELY TECH AT WILL. REGARDLESS, YOU ARE ALSO A GOOD CANDIDATE ON YOUR OWN MERITS.

The kookaburra troll flushed slightly blue and adjusted his glasses. “Well. Thank you.”

YOU’RE WELCOME. NOW ABOUT THOSE BUILDING PLANS -

Arty listened, all its eyes only for its friends, all its ears tuned to the conversation between AI and troll, happy simply to be there under the stars.