*
"We don't get a choice of which world we're born into, even if it's utterly cruel and repulsive." (Taneda)
"... But now I do. I get a choice. She gets a choice... We just have to make it for her. " (Yggdrasil)
"... That wouldn't be fair to everyone else, does it? What if she regrets her choice? Would you have her killed either by herself? Or would you pull the trigger? " (Taneda)
"... Would that not suit your wishes instead?" (Yggdrasil)
Taneda was a veteran warrior of many decades. Perhaps maybe even more than a century, she was the oldest sentinel and surely one of the strongest too. Her composure wouldn't be shaken by words, though she isn't completely close minded as well. Negotiation was one of the skills she naturally picked up, not from training with anything in particular, but with repeated exposure over what has spanned many decades.
Fortunately, Yggdrasil was favourable towards her objective, even if it wasn't aware of it.
"You contemplate deeply but no amount of computation power will give you the right answer. If you are unwilling to pull the trigger, pass it to me.
I will take all blame. " (Taneda)
'Pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. ' A simple phrase accelerates into an endless cascade of repetition. Beckoning to it like a seductive voice full of allure. Walls of text fly into the sky like a never ending pillar, surrounding its non material being with the cold dread of the unknown future. It hadn't even noticed such psychotic visions, faintly tugging at the peripherals of its conscious. Wholly consumed, a simulated data entity... A being formed of magic meant for external storage and circulation of information... It was facing confusion.
An emotion that was so fundamentally tied to the human experience of discovery. It was forced to feel it, collided by multiple choices and how their outcomes are mostly unknown. What should it prioritise? Lastia's perceived happiness? Or her inexistence meant for her own good in order to stop receiving any more suffering.
Since its birth, it has developed from an extra source of magic, to a calculator, and finally to a computer. It picked up on simple emotions as if it was being force fed. Each, pushing it into the abyss.
***
A sky that was perpetually gold, did the Lastia of today even managed to see a sight like this? Whose vision was she seeing through now?
The streets were peaceful and almost empty, the school period was over and that meant a near deathly silence for the residential zone which only saw such activity. That was the purpose behind building residences around schools after all, populations quickly eclipse the capacities of ancient cities, forcing the gods to streamline the functions of each facility and concentrates homes around them instead. Divine intervention... Was strangely still in the history textbooks. The people weren't religious in anyway. They vaguely had a clue what a god is. However the ones who managed the city infrastructure in the past did not leave their names behind.
Even if the people wanted to pray, they wouldn't know who or what to pray to. Science has dismantled the mystic of nature, magic is hidden under the veil of natural law. The people live boring lives that are only churned on by the entertainment and job industry. Having varied jobs and near infinite things to watch helped somewhat. Though they will still fight stagnation. Utterly tranquil. A few stray students wall here and there, walking late outside after a long session of study wasn't uncommon either.
It had in fact become quite popular to stay in school until late in some circles. Abject ordinary life, nothing was ostensibly out of place.
"What do you think?" (Lastia)
It was her own eyes... No, it was its own eyes. Even Yggdrasil's sense of self was beginning to wane, was she Lastia? Or was she Yggdrasil? It stemmed from how she wasn't suppose to feel emotions, but she was, and this awareness of incongruity only ate at herself even more... One thing was clear... It was Yggdrasil. That couldn't be mistakened. As sappy as it sounds, it couldn't bear to replace its beloved Master and creator, even when befuddled by a confusion muddying its ego.
"What do I think...?" (Yggdrasil)
A surprisingly high voice was raised out of her throat. It dawned on her that she was now constricted by a flesh body, even if this entire world was fabricated by her own mind. Something was talking to her, something in the form of Lastia, what was it? It could only be herself... So what was the point of all this? Why reflect on herself now under numerous layers of irony?
"This is a dream that could be. One of the many reasonably attainable realities.
What did you think of it? It's merely been cobbled from little fragments and ideas from my memories." (Lastia)
She laid her lips to a close with a gentle smile, it looked completely natural and maybe that's why it seemed so eery. She wasn't supposed to be here, this was not her. She was dead, she just died. Who is this? Was this another aspect of Yggdrasil? Her more calculating side? Or-
"... I don't want to spoil anything, but that would be a boring conclusion. I can only say a 'calculating side of you' is wrong." (Lastia)
She kept it as ambiguous as possible. It was farfetch, but also far more logical to believe... This wasn't Yggdrasil's own imagination. She was a data entity that existed on its own computational capacity, yes, she might have done extensive simulations that risked the consumption of her own existence. But it was suppose to be clear, rational, and distinct. Processes done by her, processes done by others, being processed. Everything has an order to it, even reality can be broken down into a mass of informational properties or... Data. The same subject that she is composed of.
She thrives off of information, but is kept in motion by the process known as calculation. Like how human cells need oxygen but always required blood to carry it throughout the body, neither can cease when survival is concerned. She had no mass, so it was simple for her to achieve what humans referred to as perpetual motion machines, ensuring the continuity of her own being. Moreover she could passively absorb magic from the air, like an apparition living off of regret from the dead.
Asking would be pointless now, but so is dawdling around in this meaningless dream world.
"Who are you?" (Yggdrasil)