Chapter Text
What is the fundamental essence of “life”? … Where does “life” end?
These were the questions that plagued the Genius, though presently, the latter was much more pertinent to the matter at hand. She had acquired a new specimen.
The first observation Ruan Mei made upon seeing him was that the man was not, by any definition of the word, “normal”. Humanoid, perhaps, but not normal.
His skin was a decidedly morbid shade of grey, and his eyes were closed in an approximation of sleep. Pale lashes fanned out against sunken cheeks and twitched occasionally as if chasing some tail-end of a sweet dream. His lips had the ashen quality of a traveller who had not parched his thirst in a long, long time. His complexion was pasty. His chest rose and fell shallowly, stuttering at times as if it were out of practice. If it wasn’t for this, Ruan Mei supposed that any member of the lay public could’ve well mistaken him for a cadaver. He certainly looked like one. She knew, however, that he was simply… dormant.
His hair fell – or rather hung – in lank and lustreless waves around his neck, shorter in the back and longer in the front, pale blue and uneven. Some silvery strands were visible – consistent with his apparent age. The ends were of a lighter colour, and had a singed, brittle quality. It looked like the hair of a corpse, or of a mannequin.
The specimen was naked behind the great curved surface of the monitoring pod, pale and vulnerable like a child, or a broken creature. Body slightly warped by the curvature of the glass. The suspension medium prevented his feet from touching the floor of the chamber – instead, he was cradled in the air as if hovering. His body curled slightly into itself like a weak attempt at the foetal position, or as if he was anticipating a blow even in the safety of unconsciousness.
Ruan Mei examined him clinically. The rest of him was much like his face: gaunt, insubstantial, pale, dead – or as good as. From a glance, he might have been in his mid-thirties. He looked utterly weak. He looked like prey.
The 81st member of the Genius Society knew better.
It had been merely a couple system hours ago that her sensors had picked up the anomalous Erudition energy signatures from a previously unregistered source, veering dangerously close to the orbit of the Herta Space Station. She had dismissed it at first – despite her intellect, it was not uncommon that her equipment would oftentimes pick up on ghost frequencies and provide anomalous data; the rogue signal would soon resolve itself, as most things did. However, in this instance – which she would later deny – she was wrong.
In fact, the error messages had only flooded the screen as if with a newfound vengeance. She calmly initiated the override function, yet was met with a larger, flashing error alert, completely disrupting her ability to work. Ruan Mei had not felt annoyed; annoyance was an emotion she generously left to lesser beings with fewer aspirations and potential than herself. Instead, she had felt a twinge of something else: curiosity.
Oh, if she were a slave to anything, it’d be to curiosity. Knowledge, as they say, is a potent drug.
And so, with the fervour of an addict (although she preferred the term “intellectual”), Ruan Mei cross-referenced each reading. Calculated and accounted for error margins. Double-checked and triple-checked, to the point of giddiness. Ran more analysis.
Every figure pointed to one thing: the cluster energy was quite possibly a fragment of a soul. And what’s more… the soul’s energy signatures she had detected had a 99.2% congruence rate with that of an Emanator of Erudition.
She had retrieved the cluster of energy, of course. Had placed it in a sterilisation chamber to check for signs of Abundance corruption, then subsequently transferred the sample into the larger monitoring pod. Nothing of much significance happened for the first system hour, and the Genius was pleased to have a moment to herself. The sample had manifested into a gently churning mass of light, casting out rays that bounced around the lab. Undisturbed, she sipped her tea, content to watch the kaleidoscope-like patterns flit around the viewing chamber like birds. The curved surface of the monitoring pod doubled as a screen and displayed softly blinking numbers detailing the rate of stabilisation of the sample.
Perhaps thirty minutes into this newfound peace, the vitals monitoring system began to beep insistently again; it seemed the sample had stabilised. Mere seconds later, the light had turned inwards, coalescing to a single point at which flesh and bones, like rapidly growing ivy, knitted around the fragment of a soul. Diaphanous at first, then growing all the more solid before the Genius’ very eyes. Until, before her, was what seemed like a dead man.
At present, she continued to study the man. He certainly didn’t look like an Emanator of Erudition in his current state. There was no trace of him in the Herta Space Station’s records of known Emanators either, though of course, many of the members of the Genius Society preferred anonymity and rarely, if ever, met their peers in person. Perhaps, Ruan Mei thought, he was an earlier-ranked genius, finally deciding to show his face. But then again, such a thing was unlikely – how could a member of the Genius Society be so incompetent as to get part of his soul stranded out there, perilously close to the Station’s orbital path? The lack of distress signal sent out was also a point of confusion. And besides, the chances of this Emanator being a Genius yet unregistered? She had run the numbers, but even using common sense, the probability was slim.
Ruan Mei, whose interest was so very rarely piqued, found herself intrigued. She paced a ponderous, slow circle around the tank.
What had happened to him? Scattered around his body, faint like faded ink, were surgical scars. The placements suggested the incisions could not have been self-inflicted. A victim of experimentation, maybe? Or perhaps a history of ailments that required many surgeries. There were other scars too: jagged slashes of tender flesh, lilac bruises across his abdomen – there was no doubt that these were the trophies of recent conflict, though there were no traces of blood. Besides the scars, his skin was smooth – almost too smooth – unnatural in the way a newly-painted wall is. It looked new. Young, perhaps. Regenerated, how skin heals after acid burns, or like new skin is revealed when rot and decay peels off from frostbite. Considering his singed hair – a fire, a lab accident maybe. There was also the question of how a fragment of this person’s soul had ended up floating, with no purpose, in space. A forced extraction, or a fatal miscalculation?
She had certainly hit a wall. No – a temporary, strategic halt. After all, she wasn’t on this Station for no reason. She thought for a moment. Out of the geniuses, the three most likely to respond to a summons were Herta, Screwllum and Stephen Lloyd, on account of their amicable relationships and current collaboration on several ongoing projects.
She unlocked her tablet with a flick of the wrist and began to type rapidly into the group chat – the one containing The Herta’s contact, not just any Herta puppet.
[GROUP CHAT: SIM. UNIVERSE COLLECTIVE]
[GENSOC IDs: HertA_83, RuanM_81, ScreW_76, StepH_84]
Ruan Mei:
Hello, is everyone convenient to meet in the Seclusion Zone specimen viewing chamber 5 on the Herta Space Station ASAP?
A moment later:
[Message sent.]
[Read by: Screwllum, Stephen]
[Delivered to: The Herta]
The Herta:
[Automatic reply] Hi, I’m currently unavailable, and I won’t be contacting you later
Screwllum:
Hello, Miss Ruan Mei. What do you need assistance with?
Is something wrong?
Stephen:
… is it really that urgent???
I’m with my step-dad…
The Herta:
Sorry for the automatic reply
surely one of my puppets would suffice
I stationed plenty on the ship
I won’t be happy if you’ve called me there for nothing Ruan Mei
Ruan Mei:
It is not nothing
An anomalous soul fragment was recovered from orbit.
Appears to belong to humanoid male, appearance mid-30s.
The Herta:
So?
Screwllum:
Miss Herta, wait.
Ruan Mei:
Thank you, Screwllum. The specimen’s energy signature is 99.2% consistent with that of an Emanator of Erudition. Unregistered with unknown identity. Status is dormant. Come quickly.
Yes, you too, Stephen
And shut up, Herta
Stephen:
Ok, coming!
Screwllum:
Do not worry, Miss Ruan Mei. I am on my way.
The Herta:
Fine coming
An unregistered Emanator? I do love anything that’s interesting
Race you there, Screwy