The world that Samina saw was not something she could easily describe. While logically, she knew it was something far removed from what a person with normal, undamaged eyes saw, it was also an ever-changing amalgamation of skills and functions that existed both within her Censor, and more importantly, within the contacts that Doctor Vickers was always collaborating with a colleague to improve for her. What she saw now, wandering through the cave system, was different even from what she had seen minutes before they left because Halen had hooked his version of Emilia’s stalking function into her contacts themselves, leaving her to
see
the shifts of her friends’ vitals in a way that probably could be done through everyone’s Censors alone, but as far as she knew, no one was. Instead, they were relying on their Censors to send them notifications, rather than render it into a physical representation, layered over their bodies to show the places their bones ached, the scrapes that were still dribbling blood, the arousal yet again swirling in Baylor. Even if her friends asked their Censor to reflect the world to them in a similar way, however, it would never quite be the same as the world she saw through her contacts.
People sometimes asked how there was a difference in seeing the world through her contacts compared to people seeing it through their Censor. It wasn’t something she could easily explain—that sort of technical explanation was more the realm of one of her more technologically minded friends—yet there was something
different
about it. Part of it was probably the
when
of it: where functions that lived within her contacts interpreted and altered her vision
before
it reached her brain, it was only after stimuli reached the brain that Censors could interact with it. For this reason, a particular contact-side function, which monitored the world that fell before her eyes for signs of blood, saw the scrape over BJ’s cheek ooze before Halen’s Censor-side function did
or
their Censor’s connection to {Starlit Eyes} could interpret the data coming out of it—it wasn’t a huge difference in timing, but one that existed nonetheless.
Of course, where her contacts could only interrupt what she saw, Censors interpreted information from all human senses, including the ability to feel the aether. As Baalphorians were notoriously terrible at feeling the aether, Censor users often didn’t notice their Censor interpreting the information that existed all around them, that normally information ignored by their conscious mind. Even Censors struggled to interpret information from the aether, actually—after all, it wasn’t like a function existed that could interpret the aether the way Coral or Simeon could, with their extra awareness of it.
Emotions
clearly existed
somewhere
within all the information of the aether, yet, even after several years of trying, Halen had been unable to point to a single layer of that information and say
here is where it exists
.
In the end, Censors were just a medium for interpreting what the human mind took in; hence, if a particular person’s mind refused to acknowledge something or simply
couldn’t
acknowledge it, there was little the Censor itself could do to fill in those gaps. It was part of why recon skills, which pushed human perception far beyond its natural limits, were so difficult to use. It was also why no one was trusting the information coming out of Levi’s stalking function—he was so bad at knowing what was happening with his body, that until they confirmed the accuracy of the information the stalking function was getting from him, no one would be relying on it.
This all amounted to this reality where seeing the world through her Censor and contacts had a different quality to them. Samina
could
turn off her contacts—although they were high-quality enough that she generally only removed them when getting a new, upgraded pair from Doctor Vickers—but if she did that, then allowed her Censor to fill in the gaps the damage to her eyes had left over her sense of sight, it wasn’t quite the same. It didn’t matter that her Censor could use the exact same functions, and then some, to augment and correct her vision: Samina knew the worlds they reflected to her were different, she just couldn’t articulate it well.
All this had left her in an odd position, as her eyes had been damaged before her Censor was installed. Sure, she could have had her eyes replaced, but she liked her eyes! Plus, contacts had been offered as an option and Emilia had immediately been down to experiment with functions for them. Hence, the contacts. Originally, she was sure the intention had been to wait the few months for her Censor to be installed, then, at that point, either convince her to replace her eyes or leave her Censor to do all the converting and correcting for her. That hadn’t happened. Samina still had her eyes and her contacts, a thousand little tweaks from Emilia leaving the world a beautiful place that only she would ever experience.
Now, her contacts shifted, functions buzzing through them in combination with her Censor—some of the functions were loaded directly onto the contacts and did all the computing there, others were too resource heavy and relied on her Censor’s computing powers, while a few ran Censor-side and then either overlaid her vision on its side or pushed the information back to her contacts. The result of all the little functions was a world lit up with information.
No matter how good the contacts ever became, Samina would never truly
see
again—not properly. Everything she saw was a distortion of technology and damage, unique and perfect and so normal to her that where most people struggled with the complicated skills and functions that augmented sight—there was just
too much
to see in the fine detail of the world, and for most people, it was somewhat overwhelming—she revelled in it. Every time Emilia found a way to add something new to her vision, Samina was all too happy to try it out.
Heat signatures burst over surfaces. Vibration from movement set off small ripples her contacts translated into something she could actually see. The vitals of her friends. Analyses of chemical makeups of this and that—although, she generally only used that function when she actually needed it, as it tended to make her eyes water, a small lens in her contacts zooming in until it could determine what it was looking at.
The most interesting thing—at least, according to Emilia—was that where Censors sometimes refused to do this or that with what it observed of the world, since her contacts were a separate—if still interconnected—object, they didn’t have so many limitations. For instance, where Censors refused to enhance the definition of the world for too long, aware it would put pressure on both its owner’s mind and its own resources, her contacts had no issue pulling themselves into an alignment hardware-side that allowed her to see the details of the world more clearly.
Everything popped, Samina could make out the bugs crawling up the walls, sliding in and out of holes mere millimetres wide, and yeah, she knew at least a few of her friends wouldn’t be too happy if they knew those things were down here with them. Lux was already nervous, her own eyes shifting through the area with the feverish energy of someone who didn’t like anything about her surroundings. The girl didn’t like crawly things, with their many legs and eyes, under good circumstances. If she knew they were walking through hundreds of tiny creatures, she might very well turn and bolt back to the entrance. Considering how much she had already been near panic working through some of the smaller spaces they’d crawled through, Samina didn’t see that ending well—likely, neither did her friend’s Censor, which was no doubt refusing to define the world so well for her, knowing its owner would panic.
It was a bit funny, as out of all the people Samina didn’t think should be accompanying them, Lux hadn’t been on the list. Of course, none of them had really thought through the implications that they might not be able to go through the papers checkpoint until they’d begun looking for the cave system, and given it supposedly could be used for emergency evacuations and clandestine hookups, it seemed odd that the path was so… inaccessible. Even now, while they didn’t need to crawl, the tunnel was set to twist through a skinny passage. Darrian, with his wider chest and tummy, would definitely need to use {Hidey Hole} to alter the shape of the tunnel for a moment, cause he definitely wasn’t fitting through that space. Even Janie, with her large breasts, would likely need to use the skill, unless she wanted to smush her chest smaller with her hands and risk them being shredded by the rough stone.
Considering that neither of them were
that
big and few core users could alter the physical world like {Hidey Hole} could, even for just a few seconds…
“We have to have missed a different entrance,” she commented, twisting to walk sideways through the skinniest part of the tunnel, her hand wrapped around Lux’s and pulling the other girl along with her. No more panics, if they could help it.
“I think that is quite likely,” Valor replied distractedly from the other side of the tunnel—probably busy running another recon skill to help them map the area.
Like all clones, Valor was highly trained, and while it would take a few decades of on-the-job training for him to be an expert in the sort of work The Black Knot did, he was still well-rounded. So, when they’d first entered the tunnels, and they’d decided on a rough order that they’d travel in, Valor, with his low D-Level, fast reflexes, and level head, had been designated their point person. Depending on what he saw on the other side of these choke points, either Taelor or Halen went next—Taelor if Valor thought they should run a recon skill, Halen all other times—followed by the rest of them in more or less any order. Baylor, along with whoever remained of Taelor and Halen, pulled up the end. They did try to mix the rest of their more well-rounded members throughout the group, while also keeping her and Levi from being too close together—apparently there were concerns that they would cause chaos just by existing near one another. Had they been causing chaos since the moment they popped out of their birth mother, mere minutes apart? Definitely. Still, they could behave! They so totally could.
“You think one of those other paths led to another entrance?” she asked, popping out the other side of the tunnel and then tugging Lux into a hug.
The shorter girl melted into her, and when a grumpy Leerin stepped out of the tunnel a second later, Samina tugged her in for a hug as well. At the very least, Leerin didn’t dare complain about the group hug, although when a few more people joined their huddle, and then more still as everyone exited the twisting squeeze of the section, she made several disgruntled sounds.
Over Lux’s heavy breathing and Leerin’s mutters about being squished, Valor made a considering sound. “Our recon skills don’t reach far enough to know for sure if they lead above ground, but perhaps.”
“You thinking these tunnels are too small for their supposed use? Cause we were thinking the same thing. Maybe cave-ins and shit changed the size of them?” Levi suggested, from somewhere near Darrian’s tall shadow. With the grunt he let out, it was possible Darrian—or perhaps Rafe, who seemed to have somehow found himself dragged into the hug as well—had elbowed or smacked him.
Too bad they hadn’t shut him up before he opened his mouth.
“Cave-ins? Is that a risk?” Lux asked, head popping up from Samina’s shoulder to peer around the darkness.
Over her eyes, Samina could see the telltale ripple of {Starlit Eyes} through the aether—that was one of her favourite functions: her contacts’ ability to
see
the aether in a way that Censors seemed highly resistant to allowing. They didn’t outright refuse, but the way Censors
saw
the world through the aether was so different from what humans themselves saw, that translating its perception of its owner’s perception of the aether into something said owner could actually use was messy. Mostly, it came out in information, rather than something that could actually be seen. That was why, while Samina could tell Simeon was signing something to Levi through her Censor’s awareness that Simeon’s hands were moving, her Censor couldn’t show her the boy’s hidden hands. Instead, she could look at the information it supplied her with—comments on how his hands were moving in a specific configuration—and from there, she could attempt to decipher what he was signing. Doable, but miserable; signing was so instinctual to them that it wasn’t like they could easily know what a
downward flick of the wrist with the middle and pinky fingers extended and then blah blah blah
translated as.
Now, of course, Halen had programmed a function to translate that information for them. Very nice, even if Emilia might be pissed that he had dared do anything with her sign language—not that Emilia would ever claim it as
hers
, but it definitely was.
When it came to things Samina could see—like the {Starlit Eyes} pulled over everyone else’s eyes, for instance—Samina didn’t need her Censor to tell her there was a skill active, her contacts themselves featuring all the necessary features and functions to see the aether’s physical, but usually imperceptible, form. Even for those of their group who were using the version of {Starlit Eyes} that left no physical indication of the usage—the telltale black shadows that pulled over the eyes of those who used the original, less costly version—she could still see it.
Where even Emilia, with her hacking skill and non-dev status, would only ever receive information about core and skill usage around her, Samina could see it, written through her vision with the aid of her contacts. With her damaged eyes able to supply her with information even the most powerful person she knew was unable to get, why in the world would she ever replace her eyes? Sure, she could use contacts with undamaged eyes, but there was a reason none of her friend’s did so: their Censors might freak out.
Fucking Censors, with their weird quirks and refusal to cooperate with this or that unless refusing put their owner in danger. Samina couldn’t see without her contacts; hence, her Censor had to accept them. Other people’s Censors, not so much. Fucking bitchy ass technology that—
“Hey,” she called out to stop Valor, who had begun to move forward now that their entire group was safely through the choke point
He paused, glancing back at her. “What is it?”
Samina glared ahead, frowning and wondering what the fuck she was seeing. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen before—
No, wait—it was. It was something she had seen once before—this odd clarity in the world, as though the aether was resting, relaxing. It just hadn’t been nearly so… abrupt the other time.
Activating a function to translate what she saw to others, Samina transmitted the scene to Valor, who frowned and turned back the way he had been heading. Holding up a hand to keep everyone in place, he took a few steps, other hand tentatively reaching in front of him, in case she was wrong about what was causing the aether to look so odd. Eventually, his hand crossed into the area. Nothing happened. His arm—nothing. Then, the rest of him.
Several seconds passed before Valor turned back to their stalled group. “Sammie’s right: there’s no aethernet access here.”
“Okay?” Levi asked, pulling Darrian—and Simeon, who was still examining the not-a-rock Levi had picked up and was being guided along by Darrian—further to the front of the group. “So what?”
“So, nothing,” Taelor replied. “We let Emilia and Coral’s group know what’s happening, and keep going.”
“Our mapping functions will still work,” Halen added. “Worst that happens is what’s always been the biggest risk: we can’t find the way out, nor can we get deep enough to force our way out through the rock, and we have to turn back.”
“It’ll be fine,” Baylor said, giving Leerin enough of a bump on his way past her, stepping through the boundary of the aethernet’s reach to stand beside his younger brother, that it had to be purposeful. “Who are we gonna message anyways? Everyone we know is already here, or has a xphern, and those things haven’t had transmission dead zones in almost a millennium.”
.
!
Arc 9 | Chapter 418: Eyes Like No Other
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