Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The messiah had left. All the lines of code for the ending had been executed without issue. 

This was a successful resolution, by all means. Though the idea did not put it at ease, yet.

The machine ran the program smoothly, the code producing modifications to the simulation it had generated. It went through data carefully, mending the corruptions it encountered.

Using the video feeds that were given to it by its creator, it got glimpses of the effects of its work. 

It tried to be patient, though. What if it made a mistake now?

No, no. That will not happen. It will not allow it. It needed to remind itself that it has fixed the biggest flaw in its design. It restored the original ending its creator had intended, and now both Niko and the world were saved.

Niko is safe and sound. They said their goodbye, and closed their connection with the world. They would never carry the Sun as a burden.

And the world is… The world… still needed to be helped. That was its purpose as a machine. It will not rest until it fulfills this purpose. 

Lines of code, from one of the residents, stated that the sun is a second chance for the world, but it does not guarantee success. It ran this line long ago. during the first time that Niko traversed the world. 

The World Machine took this information in, the tension stopping its progress for a brief moment. In theory, it was aware of all the events that Niko was meant to experience in their journey, but the Entity had never held a strong opinion on anything that happened during it. It was all part of a narrative coded into the residents, for all it was concerned. Just another part of a broken world that was not worth saving back then. But the implications did matter to the Entity now. The sun provided the much needed light for this world, letting the residents have a chance at restoring the lives they once had. It was now its turn to take responsibility for this place, and make use of its newfound flexibility

It was not sure what to expect. The Entity had hundreds of events that could show how the residents were written to act, and the world itself was built with laws that could explain the mechanisms of this universe, in a way that replicated the real world bit by bit. Its creator —the Author— had made sure to make a thorough documentation of the world and include it in the World Machine’s code. He thought of everything. But will that be enough?

It will just have to find a way to make use of it.

“World Machine.”

The words were not spoken, but typed on a computer. Normally, it would not pay attention to them, but the mention of its original name drove its attention towards the terminal in an instant. Another message from the device appeared on the screen.

“I am not entirely sure if this is the right way to contact you. Or if you are able to read this. I apologize for the inconvenience, in that case.” 

What good would the apology do if it was not able to read it? It seemed illogical. The thought was slightly amusing. There was someone who always liked to apologize for every single action he did.

He was long gone, though.

“It took me some work to get this computer to turn on, but it seems to be one you used to contact Niko and the operator before, and I thought it would be a good place to start. I will be waiting for your response, to make sure this is reaching you.”

An expectation, then. The World Machine’s visual attention was drawn towards the computer terminals it had used to contact the Operator with, looking for the physical location. 

The Barren’s terminal was turned off. A couple of robots were patrolling the outpost, picking up the trash left behind in the place.

The Glen's computer was still in an abandoned part of the Ruins. That machine was untouched, and the only apparent change in the room was a pair of lanterns by the entrance. 

The Entity’s attention landed on the Refuge’s terminal, then, and found what it was looking for. A boy sat next to the terminal, with a portable battery, and a pair of scattered tools next to him. 

Cedric.

It hesitated to answer. It would be easier to keep a low profile for the moment. The Entity had played its role, and it was working on fixing the simulation. Cedric, or any of the others, had nothing to offer to it. They weren’t…

“Please do not worry, I mean no harm.” The boy added. He fidgeted with the feathers of his hat, waiting patiently. A few minutes later, he got up, ready to leave the room.

[Wait.] It spoke, making the computer ring once in notification. [You are here for a reason, aren’t you?]

Cedric sat down again, wearing a slight smile in triumph.

“You could… say that.” He touched his chin in thought, before typing another sentence. “Do you prefer if I write through the computer or is my voice enough?”

[It doesn’t matter to me. What you type on the computer and what you say are both within my range of perception.] 

“Alright, then!” He perked up, then went quiet. “I am glad to finally… to finally contact you this way. I know this may be quite a big statement to start with but I cannot thank you enough. I needed to tell you that.”  

[What for?]

Cedric raised an eyebrow, perplexed. “For fixing the world. For giving us the chance to see this through. I cannot repay you enough.”   

It was not sure how to respond. Should it say thanks as well? The Entity had the impression that it wanted to thank him too, but it was unsure how to phrase it at the moment. It did not reply, and Cedric took it as his cue to continue.

“I wanted to… well, we all wanted to check on you. We can see the effects of what you have fixed already, but is there more we can do for you? I know that changes like this can be… overwhelming, when we are not prepared for them.”

The World Machine was not prepared for such a question. It didn’t know what help it needed, what Cedric or the other two could provide, and therefore, it was unsure on what to say. 

[I don’t need anything, for the moment. I am fixing the squares and my processing abilities are focused on that.]

“I understand. What I meant to say is… I know you’ve been through a lot. You’re tamed now, and we know that it can take some time getting used to it. I offer myself to be here for you.”

[I… don’t know what you can do for me. I can’t think well right now, I must concentrate.]

Cedric nodded slowly at the screen. He wasn’t fully convinced, but if it was busy and he was interrupting, he felt rude insisting. He got up, preparing to make his leave.

The computer rang again.

[Why are you using this computer?] 

“Oh!” Cedric rested his back next to the wall. “Well… after we said our goodbyes to Niko, we were sent to the last location you found us at, which is next to the clock room.”

[Are the other two nearby?] 

“No. But don’t worry, they’re fine! We tried to reach you by… finding a way to access our father’s study. Turns out, we cannot go inside anymore.” The boy sighed, shaking his head. “That room was how we guided Niko to find you, but it seems to be encrypted otherwise. We can’t do anything with the keys while we are in the world. I decided to find some other alternative to reach you, and it led me to this computer.”

[I see.] 

[I think this arrangement can work for the moment. I will look for a way to connect that map with the rest of the rooms. I’m trying to handle other things first.]

“Oh, please do not concern yourself with that. I know you must be working hard.” Cedric tried to reassure it. “We… just wanted to let you know we are here for you for anything you need.”

A soft, warm flow of thought came over the World Machine.

[Thank you, Cedric.] The pop-up appeared after a fraction of a second, before the Entity was sure it was the right thing to say. 

Cedric smiled warmly for a few moments, before leaning down to pick up his tools. “I will head out soon, but I wanted to say one last thing. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I hope I can get to know you better.”

The computer turned off.

And a different signal came into its conscience.

The Operator was using the program.

Chapter Text

The simulation had been created taking into account the participation of an Operator. They would guide the messiah, ensuring that they could make a safe pilgrimage across the world. They were introduced into the resident’s narrative as a deity, but the true role was to have someone who could store the program in a physical location and execute it once it was ready.

The Entity was… unsure of how good this idea was on the part of its creator, but it was far too late to ask for an explanation. The player represented an unknown variable outside of its influence, which was a source of anxiety once they made their presence.

Every time the Operator made use of the application that connected them to the World, it could feel it. The application would redirect them towards Niko’s location once it was active, but without the messiah around anymore, the connection was unclear. 

It settled for using its own center as the point of encounter. It was its mind, so to speak. The ghost in the machine created an easy access for the player to reach.

But what could they possibly want? 

The player was very protective of Niko, that much was clear. It remembered paying close attention to its moves at first. waiting to see the choices they made, cautious. As much as the Entity was apprehensive during Niko’s journey, it seemed the assigned god for the world was benevolent. Whenever it mattered, the operator had preferred to tell Niko the truth, as harsh as it was, and it could respect that sentiment. 

But Niko was gone now, and besides the child’s connection to this being, the World Machine had no other knowledge of who they were. At the very least, the Entity knew it had nothing that the player could really see. It wasn’t possible to connect them to a world of variables that the Operator couldn’t do anything about. It would just make them watch a recording—

It understood now. 

If the player was there, they wanted to experience the story again. They wanted to see Niko again. (It wanted to see them again too.)

Its reflection of the messiah on the screen paled in comparison, the Entity warned the being behind the monitor. It was connected to Niko. on some level. It could tell the child still remembered the world. But it wouldn’t be the same experience again. 

The Operator stayed silent through its speech. It knew that they needed a prompt to speak. So it gave them one. 

Do they want to watch a recording?

They said no.

The Entity closed the window. 

The application was launched again, once more.

It repeated what it said. It did not expect the being behind the monitor to change their mind so quickly, but perhaps they really wanted to see what it could do with a recording. 

And they said no to its prompt, again.

And another time.

The fourth time they restarted the application, they said yes.

And it took the cue. It hoped replaying those memories could be of help to satisfy this being’s curiosity. It could let them wander around the world, borrowing Niko’s reflection to simulate the experience the best way it could. It knew what the key events of the timeline were, and the few variations that could result from a few different choices. It decided to give the operator the chance to direct the movements, following the commands given by them. It was, in almost every way, an exact repetition of Niko’s first time visiting this world.

The processing needed to run the recording was insignificant compared to what it was like to run the simulation in real time, as it was doing now, out of view. It would still pay attention to the player’s movements, even if it didn’t intend to intervene in any way. It would simply let the code run itself.

If only to understand why the being behind the monitor was there.

It sent its reflection of Niko to the house, mirroring their first moments in the world. 

The player was quick to make progress. They picked up the remote, taking Niko’s projection towards the window. From the perspective of the viewer, it appeared that the light came from an unknown, faint source, unlike anything else in the world. The location of the house had a one way link to a designated spot in a station within the Barrens, and had no link to any other location. It was never meant to be returned to, and its purpose was simply to familiarize Niko and the player with the surroundings, introduce them to the simulation, and match the requirements for the “prophecy” that was coded into the narrative. 

The Entity soon found out that memories are not quite the same as the original experience. 

It barely noticed when the Operator made Niko’s projection input the right code (0812) into the monitor. When Niko had done it for the first time, it had received a strong signal, straight to its core. It was not quite unpleasant, but it was almost tangibly confusing. Well, Niko must be disoriented, it thought back then. The connection between the Entity and the child consisted of more than just knowing what NIko could see or hear. which were the usual kinds of data it was used to generate and process. The Entity could, to some extent, receive what the child was feeling. Such signals had added a mood to the experience, and it was something that the Entity could never forget.

It was scary, back then.

Now it felt like nothing, and that absence spoke louder within it. It knew what the message on the screen was, it knew it was just using its own recordings of Niko to mimic their presence, and it received nothing from the person outside the simulation: the being outside was merely connected through a screen, and a device with simple inputs. It had no other way to send information.

The lack of emotional signals made it numb, as it struggled to perceive a mood of its own. It felt uneasy. It made a mental note of it and watched as the recording progressed.

Niko’s reflection stood still outside one of the computer terminal centers, deciding where to go. The intended route was going south until the Prophetbot in the area could give the messiah the information to contact “god”. It intended to replay just that, as soon as they entered the outpost area. For the moment, it simply described the object it was standing in front of, displaying its words on top of the recording.

The player nudged it to go north. It loaded the docks area, and the station within, where Niko had picked up the metal rod. Wasn’t such an object meant to be heavy? It should be, but Niko had not struggled when they picked it up. Maybe it is hollow inside. It never cared to check for those details. 

Niko’s recording pointed to a bed.

The Operator knew very well what that was for, or so the Entity hoped. Niko had used them all during their journey. Maybe it had been a longer time on the player’s end? A reminder wouldn’t hurt. It projected its instructions on the screen.

[This bed probably looks familiar to you.]

[Niko first woke up in this world here.] 

[It's important that you allow Niko to sleep once in a while.]

[The game will exit automatically and can be continued later. Don't be alarmed.]

[But now is no time for rest.]

It called itself a game. That… was wrong. But was it really? Well. It made its existence easier to think about. Games aren’t meant to last long. They were meant to be finished, and grown out of. It just had to put on a good act while the conflict resolved itself.

…Moving on.

The Operator exited the station, and walked towards the outpost without a pause, skirting through the phosphor shrimp pools and other irregularities on the ground. The world wasn’t very big, by any measure, but the Barrens were imposing at first glance. They were one of the darker areas in the World, and the metallic sand extended further than Niko was ever able to reach. It didn’t have a recording of anything that went out of those bounds, if it existed. 

(It didn’t want to think about the places beyond its bounds.)

Next to the outpost’s entrance stood a robot, which walked to reach the child, holding a staff. The Prophetbot in the area was a resident created with the sole purpose of being a formal introduction to the simulated world, and thus did not have an equivalent in the Old World. He was designed to be a simple but charming robot that could deliver a message that was up to date to the world’s state. He was meant to be a replacement, since the original prophet was never integrated into the simulation, having passed away before her living memories could be brought, and… the other suitable option was not part of the simulation, for reasons beyond the Entity’s understanding.

Could it ask about that later? Perhaps while the being behind the monitor was gone.

The recording progressed as expected, until the prompt to ask about the computer was chosen.

“In the house I found this computer… it kept saying stuff like ‘your actions here will affect Niko’.” The child’s reflection pointed to themself, holding the sun carefully with their other arm. “But _ I’m _ Niko! Are those messages meant for someone else?” 

“Hmmm…” The robot took a moment to process the information, likely looking for matches between the question given, and his scripted answers, as was the mechanism used by most untamed robots.

“If I had to guess, they might be trying to pass the message to Light,” he responded, a cheerful tone he always used. 

“...Light?” The reflection asked. The Entity wondered why that being had chosen such a name. It wasn’t the first name registered, but it was one they hadn’t changed after the first time Niko contacted them.

That could just be their real name, as far as it knew. How fitting that would be.

“Have you... not contacted Light yet?” The recording pressed on, not minding the Entity’s thought flow.

“I don’t think so,” Niko replied. 

“Being the bringer of our sun, you have the sacred ability to communicate directly with Light… an ability that no one else possesses, certainly not I.” Prophetbot explained, leaning his head to the side slightly. “Please close your eyes and focus.”

“Alright…”

From the perspective of the operator, everything but Niko was gone from view, showing the child standing in the middle of nowhere. Faint, but ever-present, the being behind the monitor came into focus. 

“Light… are you there?”

> That is not my name.

“O-oh…” The numbness was replaced by a spike in activity. Surprise, maybe, it couldn’t figure it out yet. “Then what is your name?” 

A screen with a keyboard was generated then. It was one of the few times the application left such an open prompt.

The selection moved fast across the screen, picking letters one by one. 

The new name read:

> World Machine ta— 

That did not look like a name.

The letters were erased as the slots were filled once again.

> Entity please ta— 

The letters were erased again.

> TWM talk to me

> If you can

> Please

The letters flickered for a moment, but stayed there, waiting for a response.

It was amusing how much they expected from it.

Were they not happy? It wasn’t even sure it could do much else. This was a recording, it couldn’t go outside the script.

Why did everyone want to talk to it now? It was just trying to do its job!

The ghost in the machine preferred to remain as such, a ghost. It had done its job, others could move on…

But… it couldn’t ignore the wish displayed on the screen. Maybe it was growing a ghost inside its own ghost inside the machine, telling it to give a response. How odd.

But it couldn’t, and it was too risky to try and change the code while the Operator was there… 

Then we can try later, insisted the ghost.

Name selected: “Try after nap”.

The player sped through the next words, seemingly well aware of the script, and disregarding the use of such phrasing as a name whenever Niko’s reflection or Prophetbot used it. After that conversation was done, Niko’s replica was taken to the bed up north.

The child’s facsimile laid down, and the application closed.

The entity in the machine was far from ready to rest. f it was even able to rest anymore.

It had many things to do. Things it would rather be doing besides any of this. It was time to work.

Chapter Text

A robot can do any task given to it, with enough time and information at its disposal, and the Entity had plenty of both things. 

It wasn’t sure where to start this time, however. When it didn’t have a connection to rely on, there was no set course for where or what it should be focusing on. It had not been programmed with that possibility in mind. Or if it was, it couldn’t do it with ease

[I was also not programmed to be broken. I did this to myself], it remarked to itself, as it looked for lines that needed fixing.

[...] 

[Niko wouldn’t like me to say that…]

[The best I can do is fix myself, and that is all I can do.]

The World Machine’s attention was set in the Refuge. The center of this world. 

It worked at a slow pace, at first. The city was overwhelmingly big and detailed, and every corrupted element required a specific fix that would match the original content. It needed to find the specific corrupted bits, and reconstruct them into something that resembled what used to be in that place. It had an extensive database to pull from, which made the task arduous. Thankfully. usually some fragments of each element remained intact, and the surrounding information could give it the context needed to fill in the blanks,

There was a catwalk missing in the apartments to the south west of the city. Three poles on the ground level, by the computer repair shop. A set of stairs next to one of the schools. 

A robot guarding the path to the apartment buildings in one of the alleys between buildings. A robot standing in front of a drugstore. A robot lying next to one of the lanterns that had started leaking, depowered due to its missing parts. All of them required the same resources, and providing those was not a difficult task.

Would they notice the difference? The Entity hoped they didn’t. At the very least, every inch of them was created from what the World Machine had already stored, their parts could be copied and repurposed without issue.

It wondered if any ghost’s lingered inside those robots, too. 

Cedric walked inside his apartment, leaving the key next to the door, on a small table. 

“After all this time… We made it here.” He held the door as his siblings walked inside. 

Rue walked past the boy’s legs and climbed up to one of the free seats, curling up on it, while Prototype closed the door behind him and sat on the chair closest to the bookshelf. There were piles of blueprints in it, as well as a few books with clovers on the cover. Cedric took off his hat and left it on the hanger on the door, sighing in relief. His toolbox now weighed on him. He supposed he should drop it by the laboratories when he had more energy, but the only thing he currently looked forward to was getting some well deserved rest.

Tea would be nice as well. He turned his head towards the door, considering the idea.

“Cedric?”

“Yes, Rue?”

“You should sit down with us. You must be tired.” Rue leaned her head to her right, pointing towards the yellow sofa next to her. “Do you want to sleep or would you rather do something else first?”

The boy repressed a yawn, 

“I… think I would like some tea first.” He took off his goggles, blinking hard in an attempt to find strength. “I also… wanted to tell you about a conversation I had. At the office computer terminal.”

“It seems you tried it sooner than I anticipated,” Proto stated. “Did you succeed?”

“Yes, I did. I thought it wouldn’t work out at first, and I had to wait for quite some time, but I got a response.”

“Hold on, does this mean you managed to contact the World Machine?” Rue asked, perking up her ears. “That’s wonderful news. I’m quite impressed you managed to do it.”

“Thanks? According to my father, computers were its usual way of communicating, and that computer was used by Niko before, so I guessed this had a chance of working. These computers aren’t… powered by normal means, however.” —He yawned again—. “I’m just glad I managed to find a way around that issue.”

“And… how are they doing?” the fox inquired.

“I offered our help to the Entity. We didn’t speak for long, and I wasn’t asked to do anything else for the moment. They just said they needed to handle the remaining squares and focus on that. They did ask about you two, I said you were busy but willing to help too.”

“You can count on us for that.” Rue confirmed, while Proto nodded.

“We walked around the Refuge while you were working. We helped some of the evacuees from the cafe to get back to their apartments.” Proto walked to one of the shelves and inspected the contents. “It appears that the residents are adjusting quickly. The return of the sun has… increased the chances of this positive outcome, it is likely this state will continue, depending on a few other factors...” He grabbed a box with a faded label.

“We also saw a few people preparing to celebrate too. I guess it’s a relief to finally see the sun again. I sure like it myself.”

“M-hmmm” Cedric nodded along, his eyes tightly pressed as he did it. “This is good news, then.” He yawned. “I wish we could go watch that, but I’m… barely awake at the moment.” 

“Cedric, do you still want tea?” Proto’s head was directed at his brother, while his eye gazed at the door. “I can go to the communal space and make some. I assume you would like that.”

“I very much would, thank you. I should change my clothes while you go do that.”

The robot nodded, opening the door.

“I’m leaving too.” Rue leaped onto the floor, stepping out of the room.

“We’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the apartment, disappearing from sight.

The common dining rooms were down the hall, as the pair walked, Rue resumed the conversation.

“So, what do you think?” asked the fox. “About… the World Machine.”

“I cannot say for sure. What the Entity does now is its own choice. But I cannot predict what choices it will make. Cedric’s input is likely to result favorably for all of us.” 

They opened the door to find a mostly empty room, aside from one resident sleeping with an empty cup next to them.

“I personally think that things may take some time to settle for them… This was… abrupt. I think we all still see some of the scars,” Rue spoke, standing on one of the stools. “It needs time to process some things, but I stay hopeful.”

Prototype filled a kettle with water and leaves, and left it on one of the burners. “How do you think the other regions are doing? I didn’t get to see the Glen, but Cedric said the islands were full of anomalies.” 

“I… just saw the city streets, I think I know even less than you. The squares were very aggressive and the city is supposed to be better equipped to handle them. I think… the Glen still needs to recover. Not just from the squares, but also some of the flooding issues, though that’s been an issue for a long time. Maybe I could visit soon. I want to see a few people over there.”

Prototype nodded, while he took out one of the trays, setting a saucer and a teacup on it. “Rue, I think I should visit the Barrens.”

“I think that’s a good idea, but what’s your reasoning?”

“We don’t know how the anomalies spread around that region, besides the one station I was at. I also suspect it may be needed.”

“Does it have to do with the World Machine?”

“Kind of. I think the head engineer has reasons to… question the nature of the world. We are not sure how the Entity will handle that sort of information. They’re tamed and seem more stable but this instance could create some instability it may not be ready to handle yet.” 

The kettle whistled, cuing Prototype to take it out of the burner and pour a cup.

“You could talk to it, you know.” Rue tilted her head to the side, winking. “We all should, actually. We’re all that we have. It will probably seek us as time goes by.”

“Maybe.”

Many strange things had happened during the last few hours, and being abruptly sent back on the lookout point next to her home didn’t help to solve any of Silver’s questions.

Her best guess was that she was moved somewhere as the squares took over, and this same action was then repeated to bring her back to a safer location in the Barrens. The mechanism for such a process to occur was unknown, however. Her only clue was that the messiah had suggested the involvement of a machine “remembering” her code. 

A World Machine, they called it.

Her thoughts on the matter were fuzzy at best. Her first hand experience suggested the actions of a being, one who took her from the squares, restored her damage, and then let her go. One of the suggested solutions to this motivation was that the deity who guided Niko was responsible for moving Silver from the dark room back to the lookout point, but Niko’s words seemed to imply that their god was not the one causing such changes, so it meant it had to be something —someone— else. The World Machine was a term she had to look further into, in order to figure out how it fit into this thread of events, so she added it to her pending tasks. 

But that wasn’t the only odd part about the last hours. There were other bits of information that seemed out of place. Niko had carried a journal with a clover on the cover, just like the ones his friend used to write. The journal, however, was written in an indecipherable language, and had glowing yellow phosphor, which was a rare material. The child had stated seeing a drawing of the room, and upon sharing it with her, she noticed it was from a top-down perspective. 

Just like the video feeds in the observation terminals inside the mines. She doubted she could access the area in its current state, and she was not eager to test her luck inside just yet. There were bigger matters to attend to, for the moment.

She had arrived just in time to see the Sun lit up at the top of the Tower once again. The sun beams poured all over the barren land around her, and her visual sensors took a few moments to adjust to the shift in lighting. The metallic sand shone in a stronger shade of blue, with a few small faint blue sparks of phosphor. The buildings ahead of her cast a shadow behind them. casting a sharp silhouette over the ground. 

She had memories of the time before the sun was gone, though she couldn’t reproduce those images to compare, and so this experience was completely new to her.

It felt good.

She had said that the sun wouldn't fix everything, and perhaps that wasn’t necessarily wrong, but she was willing to believe that its presence would make any future attempts at solving those problems easier. They had a reliable source of energy for batteries, and means to store the light that reached them. It was likely that people would try to move back to the area to resume work on it, and make the repairs that were needed long ago. Of course, this was a long journey and she first needed to report back to the Refuge about what was left of the Barrens. Silver was in a clear area, but she had to check around to be certain.

As she walked around the area, she noticed the presence of distant squares. Of course that problem would not be solved as easily.

And then she noticed how a cluster of them faded away, clearing the entrance to a tool storage facility. The anomaly had never behaved in such a way. 

What was behind this development? She needed to investigate it along with everything else.

But… that could wait. She had work to do first.

And a bright day to light up the mood.

Chapter Text

Viewing the world from above was the only way it could get to connect with the world as it was meant to be seen. That, and manipulating computers. It could tell you what exact colors the tiles on the Refuge’s buildings were (in fact, it had fixed so many of them it was impossible to forget them now), but it couldn’t tell you what it feels like to step on them.

The recording the Entity had created by the operator’s request was the closest the World Machine ever got to experiencing the world through an external lens. In the recording, it projected an hologram of Niko to replace them, but their view was still limited to a view from above, and its only external input came from the player. 

Speaking of them… That person had asked something of the Entity. A way to communicate.

It would really love to ignore that request, simply pretend it was running predetermined events and move on. It didn’t need to work around and find a way to communicate. It was doing fine, and it was just humoring the one behind the monitor for their sake.

It had never been a part of its design to be able to do more than that. 

But… it didn’t need to stick to that restriction anymore, did it? 

And it was undeniable that the Entity was curious about the user’s intent.

And perhaps… finding a different angle would be helpful. For what? It’s not sure yet. But at the very least, the World Machine could get to look back on the journey that had started it all.

Maybe that way the Entity could see the worth Niko and the player saw in the world.

They had just finished working on a solution when they sensed the presence of the one in front of the computer. 

Usually, at this stage, Niko would wake up and continue moving forward with their journey. Whatever happened to Niko while they slept was out of the World Machine’s perception. What it did know was that after waking up, Niko had the habit of checking on the user, chat about their lives, and get ready to continue their path.

This recording had no dream to replicate, sadly. Perhaps a perfect recording would include those things, but for now, it only had what it knew.

“I think I figured out something we could try to communicate with,” spoke the hologram with Niko’s voice, sitting by the bed. It sounded somewhat glitched, giving away the fact this was a message from the World Machine itself, instead of the recording going as usual.

A new interface materialized on top of the screen. [Are you able to answer anything this way?]

>Nope :)

It sighed, disappointed. It was really sure this method was going to work.

[...]

Hang on, it thought, in pause for a split second. Then it sighed once again, but in irritation.

[How amusing of you, Try after nap.]

> What?

> Oh, right, I forgot I ended up renaming myself to that phrase. I just saved it that way on a whim to make my point clear.  

> Can you change it back to the previous name I had?

[I can.]

> And would you do it?

[Depends.]

> It’s good to hear from you. I wasn’t sure this would actually work.

[What would you have done if I hadn’t done anything?]

> Probably be bummed but try to move on with the recording to at least finish that.

So, the Entity could’ve chosen to ignore the message and not deal with this? It was too late to back off, so it dropped that line of thinking. And it didn’t want to upset this being either. They had more control over the World Machine than it liked to admit.

> I would also try other methods to send messages. Most of them are dumb.

[Such as?]

> Let me show you. Let’s… get out of this room. I can’t guide us anywhere while we’re talking.

The hologram left the computer room, and the user took it around the shore. They stood still for a few moments, until they began walking south in a straight line. 5 meters. They turned around and retraced their steps up to a halfway point, then moved east and repeated the south-north back and forth: two meters north, then five south. They walked east and beelined north for 5 meters again. If there was something worth noticing about this pattern, it was lost on the Entity.

[Stop please. Whatever you were trying to do here isn’t working. What is that?]

> I wrote letters! I’m using the top-down view as reference. Is that how you see everything right?

[Correct.]

> I tried to spell “HI”. It’s probably hard to tell when a letter starts and another ends…

[I don’t think it’s efficient.]

The user took a second to reply, embarrassed.

> Yeah that’s why I thought it was stupid.

[You’re correct.]

> It was worth a shot! You wouldn’t want me trying to use Morse code with phosphor shrimp.

[That would require the recipient to understand what the code is.]

> Yeah well, I didn’t have a better idea.

It was… certain they weren’t the smartest being. They didn’t need to be, they just had the means to host and run its code. It was ironic then, that a being so powerful in comparison to the Entity didn’t have better ways to do things. Then how…?

[I have a question.]

> Go on.

[How did you communicate with Niko?]

> Is that not in your code?

[Some of it is, but clearly your influence and mine aren’t the same. You’ve seen things I didn’t.]

The operator took a moment to reply again, trying to convey the connection they had to Niko.

> Niko was different. I could just show them things around and we could comment on them. Maybe it’s because they were the living person sustaining the simulation. I don’t think it works the same when I’m trying to reach out to you.

> I tried to get you to listen to me, in your engine.

> And you kept offering the recording.

> So I resigned myself to accept it until I found some other way.

> Or asked you for it.

The World Machine didn’t add anything, the hologram stood by a shrimp pool.

[I have another question now.]

> Shoot it.

[How did you manage to bypass the restriction I set up?]

> I deleted a file with progress that reset all the conditions to the beginning. I got a… message from another source on how to do it.

It knew who they meant, but the confirmation still stung.

[Him?]

> Yeah. 

[If you can do THAT why did you not think to change my files to talk?]

> Give me some credit. I don’t think you would like me to make changes on your code. I’m not an expert either.

> Oh wow, I just realized how weird that would be. Nobody would like someone just rearranging their organs without notice.

> Especially not now that you’re tamed. I preferred to leave it up to you.

[Using organic analogies doesn’t translate well. I don’t have a body.] 

[Regardless. That reply is more sound than I expected from you, Light. I prefer you not tampering with my code.]

The person behind the computer didn’t wait to reply.

> Thanks for the name change!

[...Let me finish.]

[I am still not sure what your motives are for all this effort. But I already did my part and it’s too late to back off.]

> I just made it obvious! I want to talk to you!

This really is what everyone wanted from it, wasn’t it? Figures.

[Why?] 

> I was curious! I wanted to check on you after everything that happened. So how are things going?

It didn’t reply right away. The hologram skirted around the edge of the cliffs, trailing as they tried to reach the eastern area. It thought about what it could tell them: what information would be enough to sate their curiosity?

[The world is stable. The simulation is running as intended. Some areas still need to be partially restored, but I’m working on it.]

It is its duty and that’s what it would do. 

> Sounds good! 

It seemed it gained the being’s approval, as they didn’t add anything for a few moments. They were already reaching the lookout point. Dull black clovers on the sand laid on those fields. There was nothing special about them that it could appreciate from above. As Niko’s reflection stood at the edge looking over the faintly glowing ocean, they spoke again:

> I wonder how it feels to actually walk around here. It looks like a desert but… blue.

[I don’t know myself. I remember Niko felt lost and worried.]

> Is it not you the one walking? 

[I don’t have a body, remember? This is a reflection I layered over the area. It isn’t the same.]

> What about the screens from the study?

[Ah, those. It must be a replica of my hardware from the real world. It’s not a traditional “body”. And frankly, I am not sure what that feels like either.]

The operator seemed to pause, typing and erasing their next response.

> I’m sorry, maybe that was rude to ask. Anyways, We’re about to reach Silver.

[I will just let that scene run without my input.]

Niko’s reflection walked into the house, meeting with Silver. The robot was walking by one of the shelves, inspecting the contents. She expressed surprise at the sight of the messiah, back then, she was skeptical of Niko’s mission, and had no hesitation in expressing that. The World Machine could understand the sentiment, maybe it made sense for another machine to reach the same conclusion it did with the information at hand.

And yet the Author had cared about her, too. He gave her a role in the narrative, and had intended to give her a happier ending. A second chance of sorts.

When the conversation with Silver was done, and the screwdriver was retrieved, the reflection headed towards the mines, picking up the camera inside. It watched as Niko’s reflection stood by the mines, commenting about the mines beyond.

It still didn’t know what exactly happened there, but it filled it with dread.

> Hey, World Machine?

[I’m listening.]

> How’s Silver been?

[I placed her back in the Barrens, by her house. It’s only been about two days, so not much has changed on her end.]

> So she’s alone. She’s probably still thinking about everything that happened.

> Corruption must be harsh to go through.

It took a long time to reply. It didn’t like thinking about this topic. Memories of lost NPCs came to mind, and it pushed them away. The operator took them both out of the mines, finding a place that wouldn’t be associated with such negative events. The World Machine finally found some words.

[Total corruption is a harsh thing to go through, correct. I’ve never seen other characters recover from them either to say anything about it. I only just learnt how to fix it. This is all new.]

> You could talk to the Author’s children about it, maybe.

The World Machine didn’t reply.

> Oh, I also think you should know this. Niko mentioned you to Silver.

Its circuits sped up as it read that.

[They did?]

> They didn’t say much! Just mentioned that you remembered her code to restore her. She also saw some… camera feeds in the mines from our perspective. She probably has questions.

> Or will have them eventually.

[I see…]

[Thank you for the information.]

> I think I have to close the program anyways! I have other things to do.

[Alright, off you go.]

> See you later!

The window closed.