The Index Proxy - Effloresced E.G.O::Procuration Don Quixote's Story

... Whoever... art thou?

Hm.

I was bidden to introduce myself a Proxy of the Index, the one who will guide you to an abode of your dwelling.

Or perhaps you could call me "Yi Sang" should that be to your preference.

Hermes - hm, I meant to say - the Prescript. By the Prescript's own implication, extrapolated from its wording... a Second Kindred you must be.

"Second... Kindred?" Whatever art thou referring to? And... my fellow Fixers here have warned me that I mustn't leave the confines of this -

Hm... there is little cause for you to be so fixated on these so-called Fixers and the things they utter.

A-and why is that?

Because they do not have the answers.

I, on the other hand... can give you the only answers - only the answers.

H-how is such a thing possible?

Hm... you endeavored to lull even the beckoning aroma of blood to silence. Thus, were I to speak upon a plane within your grasp...

You might wish to think it this way: it is thanks to this device - the Great Magicked Beeper.

Here... do you see it? Its beeps and bleeps carry along certain words to be displayed...

Ooh... Ooooh!!

R-Rocinante... V-verily, I deem this not the right path...

I w-wish to set forth anon and fulfill the task of which m-my master hath laid upon me...

And yet, the G-Great Magicked Beeper is still...

…….

Ah!

Th-this is it!

Nngh... Master, the c-ciphers, verily, they appear too intricate...

Should I, by mischance, let them slip from my memory, would I then be lost to this place forevermore?

Be at ease, for naught here calls for your concern.

Once you have carried out the Prescript, the Great Magicked Beeper will lead you back home.

You need only gallop on to where the Prescript points, astride the saddle of Rocinante the faithful.

…….

Pray... w-wouldst thou open this door for me?

'Tis locked, forbidding my passage.

Nngh... 'tis a grievous hindrance indeed. I would f-fain step within...

…….

Hark, Rocinante. To c-cast all caution aside and ch-charge forth with reckless abandon... 'tis a thing most unwise.

I... I am not well-versed in the s-speechcraft of persuasion, but...

A-ahem.

Um... I am a-already aware of thy presence within.

P-perchance these lifeless bodies have struck fear into thee...?

F-fear not, friend. Thou needst not q-quake so. These were but unkind s-souls - most unkind.

A-as I observed upon my way hither... I did notice th-the researchers here to be... uhm, kind. Aye, they were kind, forsooth, each and all of them.

Verily, I am q-quite fond of those who are kind! I p-pray thee, open the door. I sh-shall do thee no harm...

…….

…….

Has aught gone awry? You look as though you are sunken beneath a heavy gloom.

It mirrors the memory of your disappointment a few months ago when you told me that the just and heroic Fixers inked in pages failed to take flesh among those you met.

W-well...

Th-the other compatriots of m-mine at the House of Spiders...

Th-they lend not their ears unto m-my voice... All they do is bully me.

They are always vexed by my s-stammering tongue, and c-cut me off even though I h-haven't finished speaking...

Don't let yourself be saddened overmuch.

They are all... fierce of character, with a singular disposition.

I meant only... to c-converse with them awhile.

Would they b-but speak as kindly as thou dost, my kind master...

I... I cannot understand w-why they are so eager to wound m-me with their sharp words.

Wh-wherefore... Wherefore dost thou not answer me?

... Th-thou...

So thou hast resolved to... to not open this door.

D-denying it shall profit thee naught.

... The Great Magicked Beeper h-hath made known to me all thy designs.

Ah... it c-cannot be helped.

Th-there is one I must needs meet.

My m-master would have it so, and I do wish it as well. 'Tis a fate p-preordained by the Great Magicked Beeper.

... Thus, thou art in the w-wrong... for denying m-me entry.

Decide.

Unlock.

Transcend.

H-hast thou the conviction?

The absolute, unbreakable c-conviction on the definitions of Good and Evil?

Many are those who have come to accept the Prescripts.

Those who gladly wear the blindfold of faith in service of the Prescripts are, indeed, also quite prevalent in the ranks of the Index.

Yet, the efflorescence of your E.G.O signifies a conception of a most unusual perspective within you.

Your conviction lies beyond the mere acceptance of Prescripts, beyond ordinary fatalism.

Only when the infinite verisimilitude of one's own immanent yearning and the Prescript is attained, that the procuration of one is akin to the procuration of the other...

... does the will of the Prescript become one's own ego.

T-then, hath mine efforts finally begun to shine through?

Nay, that is not entirely correct; for endeavors to shape one's own cerebration are oft exercises in futility.

Hm... An apt explanation would say that such a state is not something that can be consciously striven toward.

Y-yet I have it.

If only blind, obsessive faith were the therapy to one's soul... the lives of City dwellers could have improved, if to a nigh-indiscernible degree.

One cannot blossom an E.G.O merely by believing in or by adhering to the delineation of Good and Evil as defined by the Prescript.

To quote a certain child... it is possible only when the infinite verisimilitude to one's own immanent yearning and the Prescripts are attained.

Like a looping echo...

... the Prescripts and the child's consciousness must interlock with the infinitesimal difference.

... These security walls are useless without the emergency defensive systems, huh... She ripped right through it.

But as long as I have this E.G.O Gear...

Thus spake my Master:

Bring the outfit of the one who walketh the path full of dazzling colors... the path intent on thwarting all attempts to memorize it.

'Tis by great fortune that I found it in time.

Attunement level at 70%... With this, I can...

The researcher, who lost all will to fight as soon as he saw the child tear through the security wall, raised his Attunement level with the E.G.O.

He must've been rather optimistic about his chance of survival and escape, especially with an E.G.O extracted from the wayward child.

However...

…….

30 seconds.

Gah...!

The distorted and pulverized vibrations of the City contain more than just the present.

In the flutterings of anticipation lies the future... and in the reverberations of regret the past.

Thus, in between the myriad vibrations...

... are faint frequencies that have escaped the laws of causality, captured then by a god of the City and written into Prescripts in which causes and effects are enmeshed in disarray.

It has-It might-It may have actualized-actualize-actualized...

The echoes of fate.

"K-kill all the doors of the c-ceiling."

Thou hast fled a-above mine head.

Effloresced E.G.O::Procuration.

That E.G.O, which is a proxy of ■■■, a god of the City, is quite similar to a Distortion.

A concept, perceived as "Prescripts", ■ -

Oh. This isn't yet…

Effloresced E.G.O::Procuration.

Just as it was the case with the Nursefather of the Index, whom the child follows as her "Master..."

... it is interesting, how even the E.G.O that bloomed from her own heart is but an... imitation of something else.

There are no attachments or s-sentimentalities when M-master kills.

P-prithee, I beg thy understanding that there is no ill-will to my killing of th-thee just the s-same.

M-much b-blood hath been spilled on my cloak.

His head smashed to unrecognizable mulch, the researcher slumps to the floor.

The child takes the E.G.O gear off the dead researcher for herself before looking around helplessly.

She has come across a fork in the road: a choice must be made.

U-uhm. To sally forth, or to r-retreat...

I would much prefer to s-sally forth, yet...

...!

Th-The Great Magicked Beeper hath spoken! I am to sally forth!

Hee hee. H-hast thou borne witness to it, O Rocinante?

Once again, the Will of the P-Prescript did align with mine own.