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“The auto-needle can help you pinch the fabric back."

Fabric seamed together, and you drag your finger across the inside of the sleeve, mending the two pieces of cloth together.

"Don't fight the machinery, focus on directing it."

Given that it was a loose sleeve with no pockets, your gown was the easier thing to mend first. The burning had gone all the way down to your bodyglove, almost burning away one of the synthleather gloves. It left one of your hands almost uncovered, but at Trisa-Cant-8's suggestion, you had started with the easier to mend gown.

“Good. Don't try to feed it the cloth, the needle will pull it in naturally as you work it.”

Trisa-Cant-8's teaching style had largely proven to be standing behind you and commenting as you worked. It was surprisingly difficult to keep up with her words- as you redirected your attention to the seams, the ream of black cloth she had provided began to slump back, pulling on the section you were attempting to work with. Trying to correct your posture and control the cloth more lead to your seams starting to grow sloppy.

You couldn't help but frown slightly as you worked. Multitasking was something your model was supposed to excel at, but you were finding your focus surprisingly split trying to manage so many physical variables. Your limbs just didn't feel precise enough for the work you were doing, versus how effortlessly you could juggle the numbers in your head.

It was just reattaching a simple sleeve, why did this have to be so difficult?

>[Logic] Rephrase the problem in terms you can understand. Imagine the dimensions and geometry of the cloth you're working with, how the stitches affect the fabric...
>[Manipulation] Calm down, just focus on the technique you're trying to learn.
>[Genolysis] Forcibly steady your hands and sharpen your mind.
>[Write-In]

>>5984808
>>[Logic] Rephrase the problem in terms you can understand. Imagine the dimensions and geometry of the cloth you're working with, how the stitches affect the fabric...

>>5984808
>[Logic] Rephrase the problem in terms you can understand. Imagine the dimensions and geometry of the cloth you're working with, how the stitches affect the fabric...

>[Manipulation] Calm down, just focus on the technique you're trying to learn.

>captcha: 4RAG

>>5984808
>>[Logic] Rephrase the problem in terms you can understand. Imagine the dimensions and geometry of the cloth you're working with, how the stitches affect the fabric...

>>5984808
>[Genolysis] Forcibly steady your hands and sharpen your mind.
I'm hoping this is good practice for other dexterity tasks too.

>>5984808
>[Manipulation] Calm down, just focus on the technique you're trying to learn.

>>5984808
>>[Genolysis] Forcibly steady your hands and sharpen your mind.

>>5984808
>>[Logic] Rephrase the problem in terms you can understand. Imagine the dimensions and geometry of the cloth you're working with, how the stitches affect the fabric...

>[Logic] Rephrase the problem in terms you can understand. Imagine the dimensions and geometry of the cloth you're working with, how the stitches affect the fabric...
Writing.

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The sleeve was just a piece of fabric, a flat shape that you were manipulating into part of a tube. Every stitch pulled a certain amount on the fabric, cinched it inward the slightest amount. The slack of the cloth when it settled would create wrinkles and folds that in turn change the shape of the sleeves themselves. You didn't need to have a flawless sewing technique if you knew exactly what the parameters of the fabric were, and how it would change in turn. It was almost like manipulating a datasheet.

Pinching the pieces of fabric together, you focus on the fabric as a whole, instead of where Trisa-Cant-8 was guiding you to sew. For an ordinary person, it might have been difficult to keep the position of every individual stitch and flap of fabric correct in their mind. You were not an ordinary person. Trisa-Cant-8 seems to have forgotten that.

“You're getting... off course?” Trisa-Cant-8 tilted her head, then make a humming noise. “Nevermind, you're getting it. That's good.” She shoots you a look. “And you said you'd fail.”

You glance at her for a moment. “Perhaps not fail, but merely... be frustrated.”

“We'll be thanking the spirit of the sacred auto-needle for your skill, then.” Trisa-Cant-8's voice was dry.

“Of course.” You hesitate for a moment, then put the needle to the cloth again. The adepts - no, their apprentices - were chanting something in the background. It was a halting binary chorus, nothing more than a erratic series of beeps that was given emphasis and depth by the chorus of vox units creating it. You suppose that was the point, in a way. “May I ask a question?” You glance at Trisa-Cant-8.

“I have never implied that you were restricted from doing so.” She inclined her head.

“...what is the Omnissiah?”

“...now why would you ask something like that?” Trisa-Cant-8 mused under her breath, seemingly staring into space before turning her gaze to you. “The Omnissiah is the mortal extension of the Machine God. The Emperor. Surely you know this?”

“I do.” You admit, then press your lips together. “...but what is it? Or he?”

“A fair question.” Trisa-Cant-8 nodded. “...tell me, what do you know of the Machine God?”

>"It... animates machinery and machine spirits serve it."
>"The Mechanicus seeks to become closer to it by emulating the Omnissiah."
>"Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred..."
>"It's a... man?"
>[Write-In]

>>5986714
>>"Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred..."
>>"It's a... man?"

part knowledge and part man

>>5986714
>>"It's a... man?"

>>5986714
>"Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred..."

>>5986714
>"Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred..."
>"It's a... man?"

>>5986714
>"The Mechanicus seeks to become closer to it by emulating the Omnissiah."

>>5986714
>"It... animates machinery and machine spirits serve it."
>"Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred..."

>"Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred..."
>"It's a... man?"
Writing.

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“Parts of it are knowledge, and that's why knowledge is sacred...” You begin. “All knowledge and technology derives from the Omnissiah.”

“Except for the work of the alien.”

“Except for the work of the alien?” You frown. “...wouldn't the operating principles be the same?”

“They are not.” Trisa-Cant-8 shook her head. “The principles are distorted and corrupted, then made a mockery of. That is why we suffer not the alien mechanism to exist. It is a corruption of the Omnissiah's laws.”

If the Omnissiah's laws can be corrupted, doesn't that mean they aren't absolute?

Fire burns all that it touches without judgement, too.

“What else?” Trisa-Cant-8 inclined her head.

You dismiss the errant thought. “It's a... man?”

“The Omnissiah is a man. The Emperor- although some outside this forge would... disagree with you on that." Trisa-Cant-8 winced a little. “Make no mistake, however, the Omnissiah is a mortal man, just like the rest of us. He is simply the extant manifestation of the Machine God's will.”

“So what's the Machine God, then?”

You suspect Trisa-Cant-8 is smirking behind her respirator. “Perhaps I should introduce you to some lectors? They could dictate to you for hours.” You must have made an expression for once, because the artisan snickered to herself before pausing to gather her thoughts. “The Machine God is... everywhere. Not just in the cogitator, or the engine. In the floors, the bricks beneath our feet, the wires in the wall, the detailing on our armor. Not just in this-” She reached out and gently lifted the auto-needle wrapped around your hand. “-but in the stitches itself. The Machine God reveals Himself to us through knowledge- our intelligence and our wisdom. The pistons in the engine, the stitches in your clothing, the construction of the clothes themselves... did those simply spring fully-formed into being? No! Someone made all of those things. The height of the stairs in the hab- that was chosen. The designs we etch on our murals- those were chosen. The intent is what gives it the... spark of the Omnissiah."

>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”
>"What function do engravings serve?"
>"So why the obsession with machines, then?"
>Silently keep working.
>[Write-In]

>>5987581
>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”

>>5987581
>>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”

>>5987581
>"What function do engravings serve?"

>>5987581
>>"What function do engravings serve?"

>>5987581
>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”
Biomachinery if you will.
I bet there's some lex-mechanic shouting at the initiates for the fleshbags operating in meatspace to get back to work.

>>5987581
>"What function do engravings serve?"

>>5987581
>>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”

>>5987581
>>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”

Next time we picking Genolysis cause I feel like both are too good not to use

>[Machine Covenant] “...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”
Writing.

“...and it's the spirit that is the spark of life.”

Trisa-Cant-8 inclined her head. “Then you do know something of the mysteries."

“I do?” You'd spoken without realizing. The words had just sort of... slipped out. They'd just seemed obvious. Where had that thought come from?

“The Second Mystery?” Trisa-Cant-8 raised her hand. “The spirit is the spark of life. And before that, the First Mystery: ‘life is directed motion’, like I was talking about."

“What does that mean?”

“...I might not be the best person to ask that.” Trisa-Cant-8 folded her arms, seemingly thinking. “Theology is dear to me, but I'm no lector. I'd hate to give you the wrong idea and get reamed out by our old Forge Master later..."

“If life is directed motion...” Your eyes close briefly. “Then organic life and machinery is not so different, on a fundamental level. We're all directed motion. And the spirit is... the spirit of the machine, then? If that is true, then humanity must surely possess it's own spirit, yes?” You frown a little at that thought. Did that include you, then? Or were you a perversion?

Trisa-Cant-8 gave you a more considered look, but still smiled. “That's an advanced reading for someone who couldn't tell me who the Omnissiah was a minute ago. Where'd you hear that, anyway? I didn't think tankborn were given any spiritual knowledge.” She glances down at your work. “Left a bit.”

>"It felt obvious."
>"I must have been partially indoctrinated with it."
>"I've been exploring the temple a bit, I likely overheard it."
>"I don't know. The thought... sprang forth."
>[Write-In]

>>5989095
>"I don't know. The thought... sprang forth."

>>5989095
>>"I must have been partially indoctrinated with it."

>>5989095
>"I must have been partially indoctrinated with it."

>>5989095
>"I must have been partially indoctrinated with it."

>"I must have been partially indoctrinated with it."
Writing.

You search your memories, first your recent memories of the past week and nine days, then the memories that formed the shape of your personality and function, the information that had been written so deeply into your mind it may as well have been burned onto your soul. The needle slows to a stop as you pause, thinking. Nothing.

“I must have been partially indoctrinated with it.”

A lie.

“Wonder why they felt it was important...” Trisa-Cant-8 pulled slightly on her respirator, almost as if she was rubbing her chin. “My data stores are bare on this subject. Were you created to serve the Cult?"

This made you tense slightly, far more than the lie had. Why it would escaped you. Were you going to follow one lie with another?

Trisa-Cant-8 glanced at you. “Have I said something rude? Apologies, I'm not familiar with the ways of tankborn.”

“We do not have a ‘way’ as far as I'm aware.” The sleeve took shape on your lap, and you compare it with the intact one dangling on your left. Almost perfectly. Subtly off, but you had a feeling your previous gown's sleeves had been that way, and so it was no object to you.

“...I am sure that is true.” Trisa-Cant-8's voice had an odd tone to it, like she was smiling despite the lack of anything amusing.

>Lie. “I served as a Magos' assistant at one point.”
>Lie. “My creator is of the Mechanicus. Perhaps he wanted me to know it?”
>"I was created to be an agent of the Customs Houses."
>"My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed."
>"Apologies, but I would prefer not to answer that."
>[Write-In]

>>5990041
>"My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed."

I was rejected

>>5990041
>"My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed."
>"I was created to be an agent of the Customs Houses."
My model is from a clerical and technical series, but more and more it becomes clear to me that I am not an ordinary model. The way I have been constructed, my very biology is... unusual to say the least. My indoctrination is atypical as well, it is dark and lacks clarity in many areas, and sometimes there are... strange thoughts, strange flashes of knowing about things nothing to do with clerical work or technical specifications.
As for if I was intended to be owned by the Mechanicus, I cannot say. Truthfully, I do not fully well know who or what created me only to abort me near completion, what they intended deviating my mind and body in such a way, but I suppose it could have been the Mechanicus.
That is a nice thought, better than many alternatives. That would explain the unusual connection to the Machine God, but it doesn't seem right, there's always been something... shameful, some awful past that I am running from, surviving until here by chance I am discovered, and disposed of for a final time.

...

I have been having dreams.

>>5990041
>>"My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed."

>>5990041
>"My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed."

>"My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed."
Writing.

>>5990076
>I have been having dreams.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Plp3-FSu1Rw

“My... ‘true function’ is difficult to say, since I was never completed.” You say. “I believe I was intended for shipping inspection, but given my incomplete indoctrination...”

“Never completed? They just sold you without finishing you all the way? I thought tankborn were all custom-engineered, not sold on bargain."

“We aren't.” Your voice grows slightly embittered without you meaning. “I didn't meet the manufacturing standards.”

Imperfect rang in your mind.

“In... what way?” You could tell Trisa-Cant-8 was clearly frowning behind her respirator, such was the way the lines on her face deepened.

“I don't know.” You glance away. “My expertise is centered around shipping, customs declarations, inspections...” You make a vague gesture. “My series are assistants that are adapted to clerical or technical positions. I have those capabilities. I would know more if my indoctrination wasn't ended early.”

“The minds of ordinary humans can react badly to hypno-indoctrination. Perhaps your mind rejected the indoctrination in some way?”

“Maybe.” You concede, although your stomach twists strangely at the thought. Wouldn't that indicate an imperfection of your brain? Or your extended grey matter?

...could it even be because of your extended grey matter?

“It could be linked to my biology, as well.”

“The flesh is weak...” Trisa-Cant-8 sounded slightly worried. “If there is something wrong, we could have a Biologis or Genetor check your body later. There are some within Odrev that study such things. Would you like that?”

>"Yes."
>"No."

>[Optional] "I'm loathe to take more resources, but..."
>[Optional] “I wasn't just incomplete. My creator tried to dispose of me.”

>>5990795
>"No."
>[Optional] “I wasn't just incomplete. My creator tried to dispose of me.”

>>5990795
>[Optional] “I wasn't just incomplete. My creator tried to dispose of me.”
I'm conflicted about the yes/no choice here. Yes means all the biological details being inspected such as the brain tissue being identified outside of her skull, but No means that Lebesnati's body still remains a mystery box for any surprises later. Further, I suspect the Machine Covenant may be linked to an implant or augment that could be the subject of greater interest.

>Yes
with conditions that the results of this study are for the Forge Master's eyes and the single Biologis/Genetor only. It will be at the Forge Master's decision on whether the results get wiped afterward, and Lebesnati will remain conscious and intact during and after the inspection.

>>5990795
>"Yes."

>[Optional] "I'm loathe to take more resources, but..."
>[Optional] “I wasn't just incomplete. My creator tried to dispose of me.”

We need answers. I doubt any Biologis will have enough authority to interfere with titan work.

>>5990795
>"No."

>>5991074
Oh shit, late pop-in, but I will allow for a 'Yes, BUT' answer if people want to.

I'm running very late today so there's a non-zero chance the vote'll be extended into tomorrow if people want to change their votes in light of that.

>>5991537
I'm just paranoid about what might get revealed in the inspection and this is 40K where nothing goes well, even with best intentions.

>>5991853
Well, we've missed death several times now. What's one more?

Well I was about to say it was a split vote and roll it off, but then my power went out while I was writing the post. It's my day off today so I'll be back in a bit instead of pushing it to tomorrow. In the meanwhile I'll, uh... do something.

>>5992348
Roll

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Well, that was annoying. Alright, we're back. Roll time, 1 for Yes, 2 for No. No matter what the result is, we're also doing:
>[Optional] “I wasn't just incomplete. My creator tried to dispose of me.”

>>5992560
...don't point out things that were obvious I could do in hindsight, that makes me feel very silly and goofy.

Checking something real fast, since I can't load any new pages on 4chan all of a sudden. Test?

“...no.” You finally say.

“No?” Trisa-Cant-8 tilted her head, her expression concerned. “If it's concern about your biology, I assure you that Genetors are very accustomed to dealing with non-standard-"

“I wasn't just incomplete.” You interrupt her. “I wasn't just low-quality product. My creator declared me ‘imperfect’, and had me disposed of."

Trisa-Cant-8's brow furrowed. “What, pawning you off to recoup their losses?”

“No. He disconnected me and threw me into a corpse disposal chute. That is my first memory.” You felt a little less tense now that you had admitted it, working quickly as you pulled the needle back from the cloth. ”I awoke among the corpses and managed to crawl my way out before I was pulled into the grinder. I think he probably expected me to die on impact, but the grinder was poorly maintained. The other bodies cushioned my fall."

You lift up your gown, turning it back and forth and looking at the sleeves. The new one was slightly mismatched in color, but not in length or shape- Trisa-Cant-8 had assured you that the next step would be to dye it to the appropriate color.

When you realize she hadn't spoken, you turn your head. “Artisan?”

The look on Trisa-Cant-8's face was one of horror- her eyes wide, her eyebrows disappearing into her hair and her mouth twisted to the point that the augmetic clasps that normally held her respirator tight to her face without adjustment had relaxed slightly, exposing some of the area of her mouth.

You tilt your head. “...is something wrong?”

“That's... what kind of-" Trisa-Cant-8 restrained herself with effort. “Apologies. Sometimes I speak before I think.”

“I don't understand.”

“I'm having trouble comprehending how someone could do that to another human being. A thinking person!”

You can't help but stare for a moment. “I didn't think the Mechanicus would think much of the lives of tankborn. We are close to vatgrown humans, after all.”

“Humans vatgrown without minds, or even brains, criminals hoping to redeem themselves in the eyes of the Omnissiah. Not... people.”

>"I didn't think the Mechanicus would consider me a person."
>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"
>"That doesn't apply to me."
>Don't bother trying to correct her.
>Stay silent.
>[Write-In]

>>5993690
>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"
A genetically-engineered human savant servant wants to know more! Leb's been taught about the spark and motive force a bit, but she is probably still considering herself a biological machine, created to serve.

>>5993690
>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"

>>5993690
>>"That doesn't apply to me."

>>5993690
>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"

>>5993690
>>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"

>>5993690
>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"

>>5993690
>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"

>"I don't understand. Am I so different?"
Writing.

Delay to tomorrow, Bentus can't subsist on corpsestarch.

>>5996140
I can't believe......

>>5996140
Have you tried deepfrying it in human fat?
I hear it tastes like meaty potato wedges.

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>>5996821
Haven't tried it yet, although I think I would rather prefer to be able to afford regular groceries.

...unless I can somehow subsist upon the act of writing itself.

Nah, some days nothing bad even happens and I just completely faceplant trying to get updates done. I'd be dead within two weeks.

>>5996790

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Your brow furrows. “I don't understand. Am I so different? I'm a engineered organism, created to fulfill a specific purpose. There is little that separates me from a particularly advanced servitor.”

“No!” Trisa-Cant-8 shook her head vigorously, her voice growing slightly harsher, more artificial. “Correction: that's complete groxshit. The human spirit is a mechanism that will never be replicated by mere imitations. It is how our souls touch the Omnissiah itself!” She floundered. “Don't you have hopes, desires... dreams? An appreciation of things, how they are, how they work, what they do?”

“My ‘desires' are formed by my... indoctrination and the way I was intended to be used." There's an odd twisting in your chest as you try to make sense of her words. You hadn't been prepared for any sort of philosophical debate. Was this an argument? Were you supposed to win? “Nothing more.”

“You talk about yourself as if you're just a machine to be programmed."

“Am I not a biological machine of a different sort?”

“...now you just sound like a Genetor.”

“You speak without the council of one. I did not know humanity was something that could be intuited.”

“A-4...” Trisa-Cant-8 rubbed her forehead gently. “Humanity is just the basest bar for life in the Omnissiah's image. Do you truly not see yourself as a person?"

“I...” You falter. You were tankborn. Was that not the end of it? Searching your memories, you didn't actually know the answer. ‘Human’ was not a word ascribed to you by the Voice in the water. You would interact with humans, you would serve humans, you had the form of a human. Never had you been told you were one. Nor had you been called a ‘person’. “I'm a tankborn. I didn't think I was anything else.”

“But you have a mind. A spirit.” Trisa-Cant-8 reassured you. “That's all anyone needs. Everything else is just trappings.”

“...a mind and a spirit?” You ask.

“Yes, of course.”

“...then...” You say, slowly. “Animals are people?”

“The minds of animals are far too primitive. They have spirit, but only in the same way that a lasgun and that titan you found both have spirits. The two are similar but not comparable.” She laughed. “And of course, the alien mechanism, but that's hardly relevant here.”

“Unless I am a product of the alien mechanism.”

Trisa-Cant-8 snorted. “I doubt that.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“We would have realized a long time ago-” She waved her hand vaguely. “It was declared malatek, not heretek. The work of a renegade, astray but not in disgrace. He would not dare touch technology corrupted by aliens. This I know.”

You draw your lips tight. “...are mutants people?”

“...that- no. No, it's better I not step into that minefield. Ask a Genetor with a theological bent. If one is available, then assume ‘no’.”

>>5997458
An image of the mutants that had assaulted you down in the hive foundations flashed to your mind. Spindly, low to the ground, covered in fur- more of a vermin than a person, but you could remember their eyes so clearly. Alert, intelligent, human eyes looking at you desperately as it tried to claw it's way onto the truck. And also Errat's blood all over you, and his panicked shrieks. It was hard to imagine that was only three days ago.

“...if mutation is abomination, then...”

“A-4, you are stepping dangerously close to the kind of theological minefield that has kept Genetors awake at night for millennia. Trust me, you aren't ready for this discussion. At least, not unless you master some simple chemical treatment processes.”

You look down at the gown on your lap. Oh. Right. There was still work to be done. The image of mutants still lingered in your mind, but you push them aside. “Why are you saying my designation like that?”

“Like what?”

“It's ‘A-414’, not ‘A-4’.”

“I was shortening it.” Trisa-Cant-8 looked over, and saw your blank expression. “You know, like a nickname? A shorter name?"

You still don't know what she means.

"...when someone refers to you by something that isn't your serial designation?”

Your expression clears. “...ah. I understand this concept, actually."

“...sure.” Trisa-Cant-8 shrugs, then turns and pulls the jacket onto her lap. She smooths out the leather, looking over it carefully. “I apologize. This isn't as deep of a dig into the Omnissiah's teachings as I would have hoped. Perhaps when they finish their observations for the day, we can retire to a forge and properly work. Until then...” She forced a smile behind her mask. “We can plan and think about how it looks!”

“Isn't that form and not function?”

“Both are important. One must honor the machine and..." She shrugs. “I hope you find this interesting, at least?”

>"It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating."
>"I can't say I see what this has to do with faith."
>"Not really."
>[Write-In]

>[Optional] “I've had a nickname before. It was Lebesnati.”

>“...that- no. No, it's better I not step into that minefield. Ask a Genetor with a theological bent. If one is available, then assume ‘no’.”
...on the one hand, I just noticed the typo turning 'isn't' into 'is' as I was posting it. On the other hand, it might be funnier that way.

>>5997460
>[Write-In]
"Its not what I was made for- or trained for rather. But there is a curious sense of satisfaction, some small victory to be had in learning and applying new skills. I can't say it is the most thrilling work, and I have much to think on so I have found myself lapsing in concentration on occasion. But to answer your question, yes, I find it interesting, and I am grateful to have the opportunity to put my time to good use."
"The people that brought me through the underhive called me Lebesnati, or Leb for short, by the way."

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>>5997120
>>5997460
You done good Bentus. +1 ration awarded

>"It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating."
>[Optional] “I've had a nickname before. It was Lebesnati.”

>>5997563
A-414 Lebesnati was made for logic and intuitive applications. I would imagine discussing philosophy and being able to practice these skills would be unusual and eventually enjoyable.

>>5997460
>"It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating."
>[Optional] “I've had a nickname before. It was Lebesnati.”

>>5997460
>>"It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating."
>[Optional] “I've had a nickname before. It was Lebesnati.”

>>5997460
>>"It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating."
>>[Optional] “I've had a nickname before. It was Lebesnati.”

>>5997460
>"I can't say I see what this has to do with faith."

>"It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating."
>[Optional] “I've had a nickname before. It was Lebesnati.”
Writing.

“It's oddly... soothing, if not stimulating.”

“Not stimulating?” Trisa-Cant-8's brow goes up. “You don't find it a little bit enticing?”

“Not in an exciting way, if that is what you mean.”

“Bah, you're no fun.” Trisa-Cant-8 scoffed. “You'll see the light, just wait until you get your hands inside an engine for a first time. Then you'll realize what it means to be alive.”

“...is this an Artisan trait?” You tilt your head slightly at her.

“There are a lot of ways to worship the Omnissiah, A-4." She flipped the jacket over on her lap, examining the stitching on the other side. “You don't dedicate your whole life to only making things unless you like it at least a little bit.”

“Then perhaps I don't have the spirit of an Artisan.”

“Everyone says that at first- and then they get to blow something up for the first time. Or they manage to make an old Magos smile."

“Is that what you got to do?”

“Maybe.” Trisa-Cant-8 smiled, then turned back to the jacket, laying it out carefully. She brushed her hand along the leather slowly, almost lovingly tracing not just the embroidery, but the hidden stitches and seams that held the pieces of leather itself together. Something clicked and whirred under her hood and inside her robes, one of the thin mechadendrites attached to her body gently clicking and sliding along the leather with her hand.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, before you remembered something. “I've had a nickname before.”

Trisa-Cant-8 looked up in surprise.

“It was Lebesnati.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “...bit on the nose, innit?”

You meet her gaze. The two of you stare for a moment. “I panicked.” You say, eventually.

“You panicked?”

“It seemed clever at the time.”

“A lot of things do.” Trisa-Cant-8 looked down. “Well, Leb. Let's talk about some ways you could make this thing stylish. Or not, as you may prefer."

Gesturing for you to come closer, Trisa-Cant-8 pulled out a dataslate, spinning it around to show you images of the machinery and stations used in lieu of the actual objects within her forge. Her description of the process made it sound as if you were going to soak the jacket in water and force it to shrink like a woolen gown, but she wasn't showing you images of water tanks or drying racks. Chemical baths with names you only recognized by their shipping identifiers in pressurized environments, pulling machines designed to mold the fibers of the leather naturally, without risk of it being damaged by the shrinking process...

...your mind wanders. Before, Trisa-Cant-8 had asked you if you had dreams. You hadn't answered her- whether out of cowardice or simply not understanding at the time, you did not know.

But you did have dreams.

>>5999713
They'd been growing more and more vivid with each day, as well. Was that important? Or was it just the delusions of an exhausted tankborn with a malfunctioning genome? There was the risk, as there was every time, of saying something so deeply offensive it provoked anger without you meaning to. The Mechanicus had been friendly so far, but you were sure their patience for casual blasphemy had limits. Or at least, so you told yourself. They, in truth, seemed to react with amusement whenever you fumbled with the tenets of your religion near them. Why was that?

Either way, it wasn't something you were sure you should talk about at all.

>Go to Korash-22.
>Go to Alpha-Nought-5.
>Go to Trisa-Cant-8.
>Find someone else to talk to- that idiot noble, or the chef, or one of Tobias' technomats, maybe...
>Don't tell anybody.
>[Write-In]

>>5999715
>>Don't tell anybody.

>>5999715
>Go to Alpha-Nought-5
Big daddy circleshoulders will have answers for us.

>>5999745
>>>Don't tell anybody.

>>5999715
>>Go to Alpha-Nought-5.

>>5999715
>Go to Alpha-Nought-5.
>going straight to the forge master busy with 99999 things to ask him babby theology and philosophy questions
This plays right into Leb's naivete so hard that I can't not pick this option.

>Go to Alpha-Nought-5.
Writing.

>>6000412
This is one of those days where I'm actually writing after waking up and not before going to bed, and it's universally such a strange experience. I keep thinking to check the voting that I closed hours ago.

>>6000697
hopefully a good omen

The personal forges of Alpha-Nought-5 were appropriately located high in the Temple Pluripraxis. Given that the temple was both built upon support structures emerging from the active manufactorums beneath it and suspended from the hives above it, the actual location was towards the middle of the temple, atop the domiciles and instructional chambers. As you circled upwards through stairs and passageways, you could hear stuttering hymns echoing out from the cracked doors of different chambers. The higher you went, the quieter and more hushed it became, punctuated only by the occasional hissing sputter of machinery.

You touch the shoulders of your gown somewhat self-consciously. The repaired sleeve of your gown made you look less tattered, especially after a washing and cleaning of the garment, but the shoulders of your gown still prominently displayed the torn seams and the strip of fabric that had once secured the mantle. When you'd asked about the possibility of repairing that, too, Trisa-Cant-8 had simply held up the jacket.

If that was the plan, then you wish it would shrink faster so you could wear it normally. Right now it was resting in Trisa-Cant-8's forge - a small space built partially into her sleeping quarters, or perhaps the other way around - undergoing the ‘compressing’ process in a vat of what Trisa-Cant-8 had described to you as polyformic compounds. Evidently it would take days to shrink without damage, with it's fit a matter of carefully measuring your torso, and a long discussion with Trisa-Cant-8 about whether you wanted to be able to zip it up or not. Evidently that would have a significant effect on what the end shape would need to be.

A skitarii stood outside the entrance to the forge - a plain pair of iron wrought doors, like any other in the forge. You glance to it, sure that it had known of your coming. After all, you had asked for directions here.

“Enter.” It rasps around it's rebreather with effort.

You have to push the door open with your shoulders, boots gently scuffling on the polished floor.

Cables the size of your leg ran across the floor, worming their way into a series of canisters seemingly arranged at random. Some swarmed with a dozen cables, others had only a single one routed into them. Each canister was perhaps the size of your body, and hummed with the Motive Force contained within them. Taking up the center of the room was a truly gargantuan series of tanks, pressure vessels and bronze pipes that seemed to double back on itself many dozens of time, with tanks bigger than some hab units. It reminded you of the Electromechanical Shrine Secundus-Factor-VII, in a way.

Not so much with how many of the pipes clearly carried conduits and not power, but the hum of electrical energy made it difficult to think of any other comparison.

A large shape emerged from behind some of the machinery, although you heard the soft whirr of discs before his features come into focus.

>>6000810
“A-414.” Alpha-Nought-5 greeted you as he lumbered closer, stepping over the thick cables without looking. “What brings you to this old man's forge? I was under the impression you had become a common sight near Artisan Trisa-Cant-8 as of late.”

“I have.” You touch your sleeve carefully. “She has been showing me some practical skills. It's been... illuminating.”

“The Artisan is highly skilled.” Alpha-Nought-5 sounded pleased, despite the flat tone of his vox. “She has much to teach any devoted servant of the Omnissiah.” He paused. “That is not intended to indicate that you are such, however.”

“I know. Thank you, Forge Master.” You belated realize that you've forgotten to curtsy, then dip low. “I wished to-” Confess something? No, was it a secret? “...wanted to-” Ask? No, you didn't have a question. “I-” You close your eyes, breathe out carefully, then look up. “Can I trust you with something?”

Alpha-Nought-5 looked at you carefully, then turned. “Here, away from the machinery.” He gestured with one hand, pausing briefly to take your hand and help you up over the largest cable in the room, bringing you away from the apparatus in the center of the room and towards the quieter, more distant edges. “What is it?”

>"...I've been having dreams."
>[Sub-Option] “About the Dark Age.”
>"I think something is wrong with me. Spiritually and genetically."
>"Trisa-Cant-8 has been teaching me about the Omnissiah, and I'm... confused."
>Struggle to articulate any particular thought and lapse into confusion.
>[Write-In]

>>6000812
>>"...I've been having dreams."
>>[Sub-Option] “About the Dark Age.”

>>6000812
>"...I've been having dreams."
>[Sub-Option] “About the Dark Age.”
>"I think something is wrong with me. Spiritually and genetically."
>"Trisa-Cant-8 has been teaching me about the Omnissiah, and I'm... confused."
>Struggle to articulate any particular thought and lapse into confusion.
Completely explode in dialogue and describe our doubts about our humanity and purity, and the dreams have us worried for our soul

>>6000812
Supporting all of >>6000856

>>6000812
>>6000856
support, Lebe-spaghetti time

>>6000812
>>"...I've been having dreams."
>>[Sub-Option] “About the Dark Age.”
>>"I think something is wrong with me. Spiritually and genetically."

>>6000856
+1

>"I've been having dreams, about the dark... age- actually, is it normal for me to dream? Because I've been talking to Trisa, and she- I- forgive me. What I mean to say is that I'm concerned something is flawed with me, on a spiritual level. Be- because of the dreams, the Omnissiah I think is- and the... uh... this display is unsightly, what I mean is-"
>Struggle to articulate any particular thought and lapse into confusion.
Writing.

Update delayed, fuck me.

You shift slightly, uncomfortably aware of what you're doing, now. Alpha-Nought-5 could have easily been in the middle of something important, and yet here you were interrupting his work. “...I've been having dreams.” You begin. “...about the Dark Age. What I think is the Dark Age. It-” You press your lips together. “I- I've been speaking to Trisa-Cant-8 and... I think there's something wrong with me.” You take a breath. “Spiritually and genetically. Due to my origins. That is- because of how I was made, I...” You trail off.

Alpha-Nought-5's wheels spun for a long time, then he turned. “Perhaps you should walk with me.” He gestured with his free hand, already moving beyond the machinery.

You had to hurry to match pace with him, the founding plate jostling under your gown and thumping against your stomach with the sudden movement. He set a course along the wall of the chamber, pipes and machinery crawling up the walls to your right. Some of them went overhead, connecting to Alpha-Nought-5's machinery, but most of them made right turns into the walls, or continued upwards to the floors above. What wires did cross the edges of the lab were modest, enough for you to step over without worry.

“Your mind certainly appears occupied today.” Alpha-Nought-5's staff thumped on the floor with each ponderous step he took. As you fell behind, he slowed down a fraction, better matching pace with you. “Surely Trisa-Cant-8 did not attempt to overwhelm you with knowledge?”

“No, Forge Master.” You shake your head. “If anything, she was very wary of misrepresenting the Cult Mechanicus' teachings. She did not speak much of it.”

“Ah, yes.” Alpha-Nought-5 sighed. “Trisa-Cant-8 is one who does not typically work with initiates. Even though she is a fully ordained techpriestess, she is overly cautious in her advocacy for the Omnissiah. But surely you did not come to speak of that?"

You purse your lips, trying to find the words.

“You spoke of dreams?”

“...yes.” You try to find the words.

>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”
>"Everything in it is... sterile. Very... automated."
>"Sometimes I see things that I recognize, other times everything is very... alien."
>"I swear it's far enough back to be a different era."
>"...actually, forget it."
>[Write-In]

>>6003767
>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”

>>6003767
>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”

>>6003767
>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”
Gosh darnit our titan just wants to walk.

>>6003779
+1

>>6003767
>>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”

>>6003767
>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”

>"I see myself as an observer, but they're not my memories."
>[Sub-Option] “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's.”
Writing.

“I see myself as an observer, but they're not... my memories.” You brush some of your hair back self-consciously. “...I think they're Corvus Lictor's. I relived something of it's past.”

“Many god-machines are indeed quite old.” Alpha-Nought-5 held up a hand. “This is not to say, however, that what you experienced was necessarily a vision of the past. Just that it could be quite far back.”

“I understand.” You gather your thoughts again. “In these dreams... I see myself doing things. I get up, I walk. I think I'm doing a normal task for myself, only for me to realize halfway through that I'm not myself. My limbs are different, or I find myself doing something impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“Impossible for a human- tankborn. Fastening myself into a launch harness, nearly walking into hard vacuum without protection."

“I see...” Alpha-Nought-5 stopped, turning towards the apparatus. You nearly run into his staff, but you manage to jerk yourself to a stop in time. “Such portents are not unheard of among the Mechanicus. It is normally within our higher thoughts - the state reached by data-meditation - that the Omnissiah's will and wisdom is most discernible to us, but dreams are simply knowledge retrieved in a different way. There may be some truth to your dreams.”

“There may?” You back up a little so you could actually see his head again. “...then what does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Alpha-Nought-5 turned to you. “Unless there is something you feel you must do. The line between a vision and the product of an overactive imagination is thin. Even if there is divine guidance behind it, without a purpose, it is no more than... a pleasantry. Something of indeterminate importance. Not unholy, not even something to be shunned, but there is little debate to be had in things that serve no function for our bodies, nor our spirits.”

“...I can't say they have a point.” You hold up your hand and curl it into a loose fist. ”They are... memories. They're matter of fact. There isn't a message, nor a story. I feel like I'm being told something, but that it... it probably doesn't matter...” You turn the thought over. Something about it still made you feel uneasy. It also made you feel tired just thinking about it.

Before you could speak again, though, Alpha-Nought-5 spoke. “Tell me. Do tankborn dream?”

“Not dreaming is not a part of my spec sheet.” You reply. “...but nor is dreaming an explicit feature. I am born of a dream, in a way.”

“Your hypno-indoctrination, yes.” Alpha-Nought-5 hummed, his speakers peaking oddly at the rush of static.

>"If I may ask: Do you know of my creator?"
>"Does it really matter if I do?"
>"...I had dreams before I met Corvus Lictor. They led me to it."
>[Write-In]

>>6006007
>[Write-In]
Tell him about our machine covenant and that we swore to 'walk' for the Titan.

>>6006007
Supporting >>6006041
And also >"...I had dreams before I met Corvus Lictor. They led me to it."

>>6006007
>>"If I may ask: Do you know of my creator?"

>>6006041
+1

I gotta have part of my skull sawed off today, so update will be later, if not tomorrow.

>>6006833
The flesh is weak, Bentus.

>>6006041
Supporting

>>6006833
I hope your Augmetics will stand in splendid veneration of the Omnissiah.

>>6006007
>>6006041
support

>>6006833
holy shit. Recover well and quick please, chromedome.

>>6007255
No worries - by 'part of my skull', I meant 'the bits that stick out of the inside'.

...teeth, I mean teeth. I have a dentist's appointment, which means driving two hours into the city. Classic rural problem where it wipes out half your day, really.

>Tell him about your covenant with Corvus Lictor.
Writing.

“...there's something more.” You hesitate. “I haven't been... entirely truthful about what happened. When I found Corvus Lictor. We spoke- that's how I found it in the first place."

“I am aware.” Alpha-Nought-5 nodded.

“...you are?” You stop. “When-” Your mind catches up, and your expression clears. “Tobias Ext-27, yes?”

“Quite so.” Alpha-Nought-5 began to walk again. “He relayed your story when he told us of your coming. A moment of prescience, perhaps? A brief attunement to the Omnissiah's will?”

“Did he tell you all of what I told him?” You lift your gown slightly as you step over one of the cables.

“I am sure he included everything he judged relevant." The wheels in Alpha-Nought-5's shoulders spun. “You claimed to hear the titan calling out to you, and when you located it, you took the plate as proof of it's existence?”

“That is correct." A paraphrased version, at least. “There is more than what he might have said, though." You gather your thoughts. “When we spoke, Corvus Lictor offered me... a deal, I suppose. Or a request.”

“An agent of the Omnissiah, making deals?” If he still had them, you think Alpha-Nought-5 would have raised an eyebrow. “And you accepted?”

“...yes, Forge Master.” You fold your hands in front of you, bowing your head slightly in deference.

“That could have ended very poorly for you, should it have been anything but one of the Omnissiah's holy works.” Alpha-Nought-5's discs spun. “Continue.”

“Corvus Lictor seemed like it was still focused on the war. At the time, I thought it was perhaps insane, but considering the things that are in the foundations... it possibly was mistaking those for it's enemies." Or other abandoned titans. Korash-22 had dismissed you on that, but maybe not Alpha-Nought-5? “But it couldn't move, it had no pilot, it was trapped and dying.”

Alpha-Nought-5 stared at you, impassive as ever except for the whirring wheels in his shoulders.

You waver a little under his stare. “It said that it could no longer walk, and asked me to spread it's story for it. That's why I brought the plate back. And in return-”

“Hold.”

You stop.

“What exactly did the titan ask you to do?”

“Ah...” You think. “It said it could not walk, so I must walk for it.” You pause. “It also asked me specifically to ‘speak of it’s grave'.”

“'Walk'...” Alpha-Nought-5's wheels picked up in speed, then slowed down. “That is a parlance frequently used by Princeps to mean ‘entering combat’. What did it expect you to do by ‘walking’ for it?"

>"It focused on being forgotten a lot. I assumed it wanted to be discovered and counted among the defeated."
>"...er... fighting... someone?"
>"A part of me thinks it just didn't want to be alone before the end."
>"I was hoping you would know."
>[Write-In]

>>6009230
>"I was hoping you would know."

>>6009230
>"It focused on being forgotten a lot. I assumed it wanted to be discovered and counted among the defeated."

>>6009230
>>"It focused on being forgotten a lot. I assumed it wanted to be discovered and counted among the defeated."

>retrieving archives
...
>archive retrieved
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5806381/

>“Do what?” You ask. “What do you want me to do?”
>"We must walk." It's voice sharpens, brightening as it exerts. "Tell us: do you think we can walk?"
>Your gaze turns, and you see the broken and crushed reams of cabling and machinery pooling out around it, stretching far beyond your small circle of light.
>"Then you must walk for us." It rasps. "Do this... and we will speak of you... you, and the unbroken stem inside you. Will you walk?"
>"I will."
"The unbroken stem. Knowledge written where we cannot touch, in your flesh and under your skin. Remember-"

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5857674/
>Your foot moves back, catching the ground as you stumble back with a gasp of fear. Your heart pounds, and your body is slick with sweat. Your lungs burn as you dry heave, expecting more amniotic fluid to come rushing out of your mouth and spill onto the ground beneath you.
>"Remember... the enemy... always lurks..." The voice strains, hitching as if coughing. "We cannot walk, so you must run for us."
>You control your breathing with an effort, one hand over your mouth to try and prevent yourself from vomiting. You can taste oil and smell acrid copper. The stench of exhaust clogs your breathing, and you sink to your knees, the blowtorch going out as you drop it by your side.
>"Remember who we fought... tell of our tale..." It rumbled. “You must speak of the grave of Corvus Lictor.”

>>6009230
>"It focused on being forgotten a lot. I assumed it wanted to be discovered and counted among the defeated."
>It spoke of me as an unbroken stem. I do not understand this symbolism.
>What does it mean for a titan to run, specifically?

>>6009861
+1

>>6009230
Changing my vote to this >>6009861

>>6009861
+1

>"It focused on being forgotten a lot. I assumed it wanted to be discovered and counted among the defeated."
>It spoke of me as an unbroken stem. I do not understand this symbolism.
>What does it mean for a titan to run, specifically?
Wrrrriting.

WAIT SHIT I GOT DISTRACTED PLAYING FACTORIO AND FORGOT TO WRITE.

UPDATE COMING I'M SORRY.

>>6010608
kek, take your time Factorio-us

Make sure you get proper sleep Bentus

>>6010878
Sleep is for people who didn't just finish their no-craft run.

You adjust your shoulders, then carefully shrug as naturally as you could. “It focused on being forgotten a lot. I assumed it wanted to be counted among the defeated. It was unmourned, after all.”

“To the extent that we failed to even realize it fought for us at all.” Alpha-Nought-5 didn't so much sigh as hiss, some pneumatic mechanism deep within him triggering. “A mark of shame upon this forge.”

“My condolences.” You frown. “...it said that I was an ‘unbroken stem’. The symbolism is unknown to me.”

“It is floral." Alpha-Nought-5's wheels spun faster. “It is not a phrase recorded in my readily accessed lexicon. Analysis: ‘Stem’, something that branches into leaves, a base of growth, a transplant, a graft, a juvenile. ‘Unbroken’, a continuous chain, pristine, invulnerable. It could be referring to something with a quality of strength, a stem that has remained unbroken. Perhaps referencing how you survived you disposal, as you claimed. It could also refer to a continuous genetic lineage. Reference: you are tankborn, and have a unique genetic template. Pause.” His wheels slowed briefly. “Poetic: it could be symbolism related to you, specifically. You are a relatively young tankborn, and thus a juvenile ‘stem’, thus to the titan you possibly appeared fresh, unbroken.”

“How would this relate to ‘running’, though?” You cock your head gently, rubbing gently at your forearm.

“'Running' is a slang term for the continuous operation of an engine. It is common among enginseers and those they share the casual version of the faith with.” Alpha-Nought-5's tone turned mildly disdainful, which might have been actively disdainful considering the vocal range of his vox unit. “It may simply be to move at a running pace.” His wheels suddenly ramped up before coasting to a halt again. “I have no record of a princeps or actual titan crew referring to movement at combat speed as ‘running’. Titans simply do not have that level of locomotive speed.”

“So...” You think. “That means most likely, it meant ‘walk’ in a figurative sense.”

“Given your belief in it's desire to be honored, it's possible that this was part of the same request. However, I am intrigued by symbolism it conjured. Would you say it was prone to such poetic interpretation normally?”

“...no. I wouldn't say so.” You frown. “It was vague, but it was not overly poetic for no purpose.”

“Then perhaps it was trying to communicate something to you?" Alpha-Nought-5 held out a hand. “Attempt to warn you of something about your physical condition, or praise your strength? If you desire, we have genetors who-”

“No.” You shook your head. “I would refuse, if you permit it, Forge Master. I was discarded for a reason, and I...” You hesitate. “I'm afraid of what I may learn. I do not wish for my flaws to be exhaustively reamed out for me to memorize.”

>>6010928
“Ah, yes... a fear of painful discoveries. I know this emotion well." Alpha-Nought-5 paused. “Perhaps... I could offer an alternative? There is a person within Odrev that has great medical knowledge- both theoretical and practical. I have yet to have a reason to call upon his company, for he has more important tasks to attend to than me, but perhaps he could shed some light upon your form? Someone not of the Mechanicus, who you can trust in his discretion. Would that be a compromise that would give you peace?”

>"I'd be willing to meet with him."
>"I still would not."

>>6010930
>"I'd be willing to meet with him."

Do we have to roll to see that it was the creator of our bootleg tankborns all along?

>>6010930
>>"I'd be willing to meet with him."

>>6010948
I'll let you know for free that it ain't him. Nought would have been very direct that it was him- he's still technically a peer and member of the Mechanicus, after all, and this guy is neither.

>>6010930
>"I'd be willing to meet with him."

>>6010930
>"I'd be willing to meet with him."

>>6010964
Interesting, and it suggests Lebesnati's creator is known well enough to the forge master.

>>6010930
>>"I'd be willing to meet with him."

>>6010928
>>"I'd be willing to meet with him."

>>6010608
The factory must grow, Bentus. You must increase your blue science production.

>"I'd be willing to meet with him."
Honestly a little surprised we're going for it, this'll be interesting.

>>6011761
Sitting at an atrocious 6.5/min for a starter base, but it's plenty to get the infinite research train started. It's kind of a shame you don't get bots before yellow science, I feel like I could have been really pushed to do interesting things with bots if I got them earlier, but right now I just use them for some minor wall repair.

“I'd be willing to meet with him.” You nod, then curtsy. “Thank you, Forge Master.”

“Should you show gratitude to a man who also has his own curiosity to sate?” Alpha-Nought-5 asked.

“Of course." You answer levelly.

Alpha-Nought-5 made a noise that was possibly as undignified as a snort before turning again. “I must admit, I am... surprised by the answer you gave. You want to avoid painful truths, but accept the possibility of hearing them from a different party. A logical contradiction, no?”

“Better to hear from someone separated from the issue.”

“For all you had known, it could have been your creator.”

“He is a member of the Mechanicus still, is he not?” You glance away. “Unless that has changed, then I was never at risk of that.”

Alpha-Nought-5's data wheels turned. “You caught the logical contradiction. Very good.”

“Was it planted on purpose?”

“I was specific with my words, but a puzzle wasn't my intention." Turning, Alpha-Nought began to turn around the edge of the room, back towards the entrance. “I must admit, in a way I feel like I am going through another Magos' samples, rifling for things it is not proper to touch. Imagine if I went through your papers.”

You look at him, puzzled. “My papers are meant to be gone through.”

“Ah... then imagine if I were to tamper with your auto-quill.”

Your hand immediately goes to cover your right hand despite it being bare, then you realize what you're doing and relax. “...I see your point.”

>"...can you tell me more about... tankborn? Besides myself, obviously."
>"One last thing: I had a question about the temple."
>"Both Korash-22 and Trisa-Cant-8 say they're more practically minded adepts. Are you different?"
>Bid him a good day when you reach the entrance.
>[Write-In]

>>6012229
>"...can you tell me more about... tankborn? Besides myself, obviously."
>"Both Korash-22 and Trisa-Cant-8 say they're more practically minded adepts. Are you different?"
I hope curiosity will not kill this cat.

>>6012229
>>"...can you tell me more about... tankborn? Besides myself, obviously."

>>6012229
>Bid him a good day when you reach the entrance.

>>6012229
>"...can you tell me more about... tankborn? Besides myself, obviously."

>>6012530
+1

>"...can you tell me more about... tankborn? Besides myself, obviously."
Writing.

You were quiet as Alpha-Nought-5 led you back towards the entrance. “Forge Master, may I ask another question?”

“I will never chide a willingness to learn in my presence, though I may choose not to answer.” Alpha-Nought-5 canted his head, as if reconsidering his words. “Clarification: Of course. Speak.”

“You spoke of my creator just now. Is he known to you?”

“There are not many among the Magi who are not at least tangentially aware of him. His difference of opinion with the higher forges and the ruling Magi of this world are rather prolific among our ranks." His wheels spun. "The younger adepts and clergy know his feud less intimately I am sure, but that is merely because it was before their time.”

You nodded. You were aware of this, of course. Tankborn had been serving the upper class for long enough that you had been discouraged from using the word ‘tankborn’ by the Voice. “Could you tell me anything about us... tankborn? Besides myself, clearly."

“You want to know my opinion?” Alpha-Nought-5 canted his head. “I would think you would be privy to more. Definition: a high-quality vatgrown human, intended for servitude to highborn. Your kind are their eyes and ears, encoded for absolute loyalty, exhaustively indoctrinated as you're grown to emerge with the full set of life skills, unlike a vatgrown empty. Additional: you are valued at quite exorbitant prices. I believe it is now a mark of status to have a tankborn aide in many highborn circles. Even some Mechanicus ones, to our shame.”

“Shame?” You tilt your head.

“Please do not mistake my disdain for condemnation. However, it is believed by some that the arts behind your creation... they verge dangerously close to heretek. Modification of the human form, altering it's functions in order to engineer a more perfected servitor race. The debates were always inconclusive, too unclear. Arguably, what your creator achieved could be done with any number of other biological augmentations, but some felt encoding them into the very flesh and genes was too far. Even the Omnissiah's work did not go so far, after all.” He turned to you, stopping. “Even to this day, some believe the only reason he was labeled malatek and not heretek was that tankborn were becoming popular and useful. It is a shame to imagine that we may be so easily corrupted by something only because it appears to be useful.”

“I see...” You frown slightly, as Alpha-Nought-5 turned away from you again. He walked you to the entrance, stopping near the door.

>"I... suppose that would be a complication to me becoming a part of..."
>"I... suppose that would- ah, pardon me, Forge Master."
>"I knew tankborn were not supposed to reveal what they were, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive. How many of us are on the planet?"
>Politely curtsy and wish him a good day.
>[Write-In]

>>6013811
>>"I knew tankborn were not supposed to reveal what they were, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive. How many of us are on the planet?"

>>6013811
>"I knew tankborn were not supposed to reveal what they were, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive. How many of us are on the planet?"

>>6013811
>>Politely curtsy and wish him a good day.

>>6013811
>[Write-In]
>Those changes to the gene-code you spoke of, how extensive are they? Are tankborn considered human? Do I have a soul?

>>6013811
>"I knew tankborn were not supposed to reveal what they were, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive. How many of us are on the planet?"

>>6013811
>>6014016
support and
>"I knew tankborn were not supposed to reveal what they were, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive. How many of us are on the planet?"

Asking if we have a soul is just begging to be liquidated

>"I knew tankborn were not supposed to reveal what they were, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive. How many of us are on the planet?"
Writing.

“I... knew we were forbidden from revealing what we were for a reason, but I didn't expect our history to be so extensive.” You glance over. “How many of us are on Malignax?”

“I would not know.” Alpha-Nought-5 replied. “The... sales data is not something that your creator deigns to share with us. Estimation: on average, each family that retains a title of nobility employs five-point-seven tankborn, excluding outliers and the Customs-Houses. The House Odrev retains a recorded sixty tankborn clergy and bodyguards on staff who have had interactions with our adepts. Extrapolation: I would expect the total number to be beneath four hundred, in practical terms. Across the planet, perhaps seven to eight thousand.”

You nod carefully. That made intuitive sense, at least. You would be surprised if you'd learned that your kind was mass-produced- it seemed contrary to how you were ordered to spec by the nobility. For some reason, producing cheap, disposable workers did not seem to be your creator's style. “...thank you, Forge Master. You've given me much to think about." Politely, you curtsy to him once more, bowing slightly lower than you had before to show proper deference.

Alpha-Nought-5 grumbled something that didn't translate well to his vox as the iron doors slid open. “Yes, good day...”

---

“Careful. It'll be hot...”

Thick gray fumes poured from the vat as it opened, though you knew now that the polyformic compounds in the vapor would not bind to human skin and flesh at room temperature and pressure, making it safe for you to breathe them. In all likelihood, your clothing was more at risk of damage than you, should you be overly exposed.

“Make sure you spread your feet.”

With a pair of tongs, you carefully reach in and unhook the rack suspended in the depths of the tank. Bending your arm down low, and using your wrist as a fulcrum, you lever the heavy metal cage out of the depths of the fumes, stumbling a little at the weight. It felt like it's weight could throw you into the air- and you weren't sure if it was due to your small size or because your insides weren't full of metal like most techpriests.

The twisting gases began to dissipate in the normal pressure of the room, slowly revealing shiny leather that clung tightly to the adjustable mesh form. Setting aside the lifting bar carefully, you leaned in slightly, aware of Trisa-Cant-8 drawing slightly closer at your shoulder. It was oddly shiny again, looking oddly soft where the compounds had sunk in and caused the leather to contract on itself, growing smaller and lither. Most of the shrinkage had happened at the torso, given your small size, with the sleeves mostly being altered by needle rather than by the chemical process.

>>6015186
Tilting your head slightly, you reach inside your gown and unlatch the pouch you kept underneath it. Holding it up next to the cooling jacket, you tilted your head at it. Despite having once been the smaller piece of leather when you cut it free, it was now roughly the same size, possibly even larger.

Trisa-Cant-8 reached out carefully, then hesitantly tapped the leather a few times, pulling her hand sharply back as if she didn't possess multiple augmetics you were sure were feeding her information about the surface temperature and chemical safety of touching it fresh out of the vat. It would need a few hours to properly off-gas and for all of the polymorphic compounds to air out, but as she herself explained to you, it should be safe to handle.

The jacket was indeed quite warm to the touch in your hands, like it had just come out of a dryer despite also feeling damp. With the compression of the leather, the tiny embroidery woven through it had also compressed, the fibers becoming finer but thicker against the fabric, bulging out slightly and forming ridges. It hadn't been as affected by the treatment as the leather had been, so it had proportionally thickened. The concentration of pigment made the pale yellows, reds and whites oddly pop- or perhaps that was simply the chemical affecting the dyes.

Gently waving it in your hands a bit, you slip it on, making a slight face at the immediate feeling of dampness on your back and shoulders, but it was important to make sure it had come right now. Your wrists emerged from the sleeves, followed by a small amount of the cuffs of your gown. You bent your arms, and the cuffs didn't pull back all that much. It actually fit you now, coming down to your navel rather than draping around your hips like it had before. Instinctively, you go to pull your hood through the back of the jacket, then remember that it nor your gown actually had a hood.

At the very least, the zip actually did something meaningful, now. Trisa-Cant-8 had been very helpful in adjusting the way it was cut so that it would accommodate the body shape of a woman without looking strange when unzipped.

>"...so, how does it look?"
>"It seems to fit..."
>"It's finally done, and yet I just want to add more to it..."
>"Task complete."
>[Write-In]

>[Optional] Actually, given how short it was already, you'd elected to remove the zipper and cut the lapel back slightly. The jacket would no longer close against the elements, but it was somewhat more stylish. Less practical, though.

>>6015189
>"...so, how does it look?"
>[Optional] Actually, given how short it was already, you'd elected to remove the zipper and cut the lapel back slightly. The jacket would no longer close against the elements, but it was somewhat more stylish. Less practical, though.

>>6015189
>"It seems to fit..."
Wait for Onee-chan to give us the ok

>>6015207
poseur

>>6015189
>"It seems to fit..."
>[Optional] Actually, given how short it was already, you'd elected to remove the zipper and cut the lapel back slightly. The jacket would no longer close against the elements, but it was somewhat more stylish. Less practical, though.

>>6015189
>"It's finally done, and yet I just want to add more to it..."
>[Optional] Actually, given how short it was already, you'd elected to remove the zipper and cut the lapel back slightly. The jacket would no longer close against the elements, but it was somewhat more stylish. Less practical, though.

>>6015189
>>"It seems to fit..."
>>[Optional] Actually, given how short it was already, you'd elected to remove the zipper and cut the lapel back slightly. The jacket would no longer close against the elements, but it was somewhat more stylish. Less practical, though.

>"It seems to fit..."
>[Optional] Actually, given how short it was already, you'd elected to remove the zipper and cut the lapel back slightly. The jacket would no longer close against the elements, but it was somewhat more stylish. Less practical, though.
Writing.

“It seems to fit...” You lift an arm up, twisting back and forth. The flaps of the jacket settled on either side of your torso, framing the gown beneath. Given that you weren't expecting any rain - or hive runoff, as it were - in the immediate future, it had seemed prudent to cut the jacket down even further. The zipper was still present, but decidedly non-functional, since it wasn't like it could close around your torso even if you sucked your breath in. It was more for style than function, although it still had it's inner and outer pockets, and about half as heavy for all the leather that had been removed.

With the shrinkage and the alterations, the embroidery across the arms and back seemed more crowded and intricate than ever. Some of it was even in places that had once been bare- sections where you had been forced to section away parts of it when adjusting it's proportions. Instead of using them for scraps, you had transplanted the strips onto formerly blank parts of the jacket, like the new hem and cuffs. There were still some strips left - and the blank leather you had removed to make that happen - that you weren't sure what to do with. Trisa-Cant-8 had suggested a hood, but you still weren't sure.

Trisa-Cant-8 leaned close, mechadendrites unfolding as she began to pull and probe at the leather. “Almost. Lift your arm up in front of you.”

Frowning, you raise your arm- and as you do so, the leather grows oddly taut in the back, the rear of the coat digging into the back of your waist as it bent oddly.

“A touch too narrow at the back.” Trisa-Cant-8 clicked her tongue. “An easy fix, though. We'll just adjust how tight some of the folds are and add a bit of give beneath the arms.”

“Won't it need to air out, first?” You lower your arms, starting to slip it off your shoulders.

“It doesn't need to be empty before being worked with, but wet leather is a pain to work with anyway, so..." Trisa-Cant-8 shrugged. “We can work on it later.” She smiled at you. “I'd say this trial of yours has been pretty success-” She stopped, looking past your shoulder and straightening up. “Autohistoria, greetings.”

You slip the jacket off your shoulders, wrapping it loosely around the mesh form again as you turn. Korash-22 strode through the forge, full of purpose, glancing at Trisa-Cant-8's other works and personal projects as he did so. You perform a light, polite curtsy as he draws close, folding your hands in front of you.

“And to you as well, Artisan.” Korash-22 smiled. “But please, you may simply call me by my name like everyone else.”

One of Trisa-Cant-8's eyebrows quirked up slightly, but she didn't seem to be offended by the suggestion, either. “I'm sure, Korash.”

>>6016375
With a light chuckle, he turned to you again. “A-414- or, is that ‘Lebesnati', I hear? Once again, I find myself interested in your council. Given that you are currently in the company of your relic, perhaps you could accompany me to my forge...?”

“We were at work, but...” Trisa-Cant-8 glanced at you.

>"I am currently very busy and could not leave this forge. Perhaps once again you could speak with me while I work?"
>"It would be my pleasure, Magos."
>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"
>[Write-In]

>>6016376
>>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"

>>6016376
>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"

>>6016376
>>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"

>>6016376
>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"
>"I am currently very busy and could not leave this forge. Perhaps once again you could speak with me while I work?"

>>6016376
>>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"
Lobotomy time

>>6016376
>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"

>>6016376
>>"I am currently very busy and could not leave this forge. Perhaps once again you could speak with me while I work?"

Update delayed. On the other hand, I now have dedicated blue circuit production.

>"I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?"
Writing.

You can't help but be slightly taken aback by the request. “I'm not sure what insight I could provide, Magos...?” You spare a glance at Trisa-Cant-8, who seems to have an equally confused expression on her face. “I know very little of the terrain of the hive foundations...”

“Ah, you see... that won't be necessary.” Korash-22 shook his head. “Understand, we did find these navigation buoys you spoke of in the foundations, but ah...” He wet his lips. “We have followed the routes available, even the routes that had terminations. This Corvus Lictor- we cannot find it.”

“It was only a short distance away from the buoys...” You comb back through your memories. “I don't know what the route was before the sabotage, but the guides surely could not have relocated the entire line already? It's only been eight days since the passage.”

“One can imagine.” Korash-22 nodded. “I'm somewhat at a loss myself. It was fairly simple to extrapolate your route from the available data, and yet...”

He pauses, as if expecting you to interrupt him, but you simply stand, hands still politely folded in front of you.

“There's just one problem.” Korash-22 awkwardly shuffled in place. “We cannot find the titan.”

You frown. “I apologize. If you have a map available, I will try my best to identify the route taken...”

Korash-22 shakes his head slightly. “It is not that simple. We have sent swarms of servo-skulls into the foundations, but we have lost control over the devices. They seem to be blocked from our remote operation once they descend too deep.”

“That would probably be the sleepers.” You nod.

“I do not wish to call you a liar, but there are simply no such thing down there. If there were wrecks once, they are long gone.”

You frown, sparing a glance towards Trisa-Cant-8 again. “The one I saw was very much present. I did not see the others though.” You pause. “...I don't mean to suggest I know anything of Machine Spirits, but could a Titan have a present after it's physical body is gone?”

Korash-22 scoffed. “Only in the vaguest sense. You see my predicament, then?”

“I do, but I also fail to understand how I could be of aid."

“Neither do I.” Korash-22 raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you are our sole informant.”

>"I understand. Lead the way."
>"I'm sorry, Magos, but I really don't have anything else I could tell you..."
>"Perhaps you walked past it? The area has communications problems, so I understand."
>[Write-In]

>>6018842
>>"I'm sorry, Magos, but I really don't have anything else I could tell you..."

>>6018842
>"I understand. Lead the way."
Let's go find the titan

>>6018842
>"I understand. Lead the way."
Might as well see what they've been doing before we get to brainstorming, but I already have a few things I think we could discuss with Korash

>>6018842
>>"I understand. Lead the way."

>>6018842
>>"I understand. Lead the way."

>>6018842
>"Perhaps you walked past it? The area has communications problems, so I understand."
Lebesnati sorta fell onto it after wandering off for privacy at the roadstop.
>"I understand. Lead the way."
I hope we finished the alterations first though.

>"I understand. Lead the way."
Damn, is /qst/ moving faster lately or am I just having too many off-days? I'm barely up to half the normal number of posts I get in a thread, and we're already at page ten.

“One moment...”

Korash-22's forge was surprisingly low in the temple, requiring you to travel almost all the way down to the common forges, below even the personal forges of an Artisan like Trisa-Cant-8. It had a surprisingly low ceiling, but instead of crawling with lathes and crucibles as every room in this place seemed to, it instead overflowed with parchment, data-crypts and a series of wire-wound wheels that lay stacked up against the wall, some bigger than men were tall.

And yet, the Magos Autohistoria evidently did not own a holo.

Which is why he was wrestling with a roll of parchment nearly the size of his body. It gleamed with the easily-recognized shine of freshly stripped parchment, and you smiled a little that whoever made these for the temple had an appreciation for document durability. For a moment, you debated asking if he required aid to move it, but decide against it- you were far less able physically than him, for one, but more importantly you would never presume to rifle through the documents of another without permission.

You let your gaze wander, settling on the shelves and racks that lined the room. In places, books and scrolls were held on the shelf with trinkets - an abstract statue of some kind cast in bronze, or a decommissioned servo-skull - far more books than you'd expect a member of the Mechanicus to keep. On the other hand, he was a historian, and not all records were written in ways convenient to the Mechanicus.

Through the entrance to a side chamber, you could see a the corner of a fairly elaborate personal shrine, all gleaming bronze cogs and votive candles melting down into the gears and pneumatic pistons.

You're still looking when Korash-22 finally heaves the parchment onto his worktop. “These are our surveys...” Korash-22 grunted as he unrolled the sheet of parchment onto the table before him. “As you see-”

A rapid knock, knock, knock rang throughout the room, and he looked up with a frown, parchment half-unrolled beneath his fingers.

You glance back at him, wondering for a second if it would be proper to get the door on his behalf.

Straightening, Korash-22 walked to the door, his staff rapping harsher than usual against the stone floor. He pulled the door open with one hand, glancing out. “Ah, Ophitma, I- yes... is that so? I'm sorry to hear that.” He made a noise in response to the young voice on the other side of the door, muffled by the metal and Korash-22's own body. “Hm? Pschaw... a pious girl such as you should have little to... mmm. Mhmm. I can see you're certainly distracted, young lady. If you would allow me a few minutes to wrap up my current appointment, we could speak about it in more detail? I- yes, yes, I understand... how about you get something to eat, I sense your potential coil is tapping out. Once you've refueled, the two of us can speak more at length. Of course."

>>6020589
The door slid shut with a metal grinding noise, and Korash-22 strode back over to the table, a bit more briskly than before.

“A pupil of yours?" You ask.

“No, actually.” Korash-22 replied, coming to stand behind the table again. “Ophitma is a pupil of the venerable Adept Eraxus, but his demeanor can leave the poor thing prone to... crises of faith. She will make a fine techpriestess, if she can set aside the weakness of her flesh-mind for long enough to actually ingest the information.”

“Is that common, seeking the advice of a techpriest other than your master?"

“I recognize it might seem strange to a tankborn.” Korash-22 smiled a little. “Many students come to me seeking spiritual counsel. I am considered a... less biased source of information.” His smile turned weary. “You're not asking because you're having a spiritual crisis, right?”

>"Now that you mention it..."
>"But not completely unbiased?"
>"I thought you weren't especially spiritual."
>"Of course not, magos. The surveys?"
>[Write-In]

>>6020592
>"Now that you mention it..."
>"I thought you weren't especially spiritual.. and also not completely unbiased?"
>"But please, lets look at the surveys first"

Some banter while we study seems fine.

>>6020592
>[Write-In]
"I don't even know if tankborn can have a spiritual crisis, I know precious little of the soul. You don't seem especially sanctimonious about it, what do you tell them?

>>6020592
>"Of course not, magos. The surveys?"

>>6020592
>"Now that you mention it..."
>"I thought you weren't especially spiritual."

>>6020592
>"Now that you mention it..."
>"I thought you weren't especially spiritual.. and also not completely unbiased?"
>"But please, lets look at the surveys first"

Okay, lesse... I know how to play this, we'll go:
>"Now that you mention it..."
>"I thought you weren't especially spiritual.. and also not completely unbiased?"
But A-4 will intentionally keep it short.

“Now that you mention it...” You muse, glancing over at Korash-22.

He had stopped in place, gaze fixed at a point somewhere far behind you, with an expression that was frozen somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Oh, sweet god..."

The corners of your lips twitch. You turn to the parchment and brush it smooth with a hand. “These are your latest surveys?”

Korash-22 pushed several books to the side, laying them on top of the corners of the parchment so that they wouldn't roll back. “A hard copy made for the perusal of unaugmented eyes, of course.” He nodded to you.

“Thank you.” You nod, then look at the parchment. Printed on it with the precise, wire-straight lines of a high-quality quill-mill was a topological map. It wasn't quite like a street map, or the shipping lane maps you had learned on, but fundamentally on some level, a map was a map. This one was etched with simplified impressions of the terrain as seen from above, but they were missing large gaps of information- not unexpected, given they were apparently having problems controlling them.

Still, it had a legend, a scale, and most importantly- landmarks.

You point to what appeared to be a staggered line of debris, marked by a ratcheting symbol at the top. “Is that the entrance to Uptown?”

“The entrance to what?” Korash-22 asked.

You think for a moment. “Foundation Square?"

“Ah... yes, I believe it is nearby.”

“Is it the only exit near Foundation Square that is accessed via ramp?”

“As far as we know.”

You glance back, then close your eyes. In a period of time so short it might as well have been a blink, you review the entire journey you took from the elevator down into the foundations. You feel the distance again, unconsciously recorded, if not precisely. You remember every turn you made, the distance you covered every day, even if the rest of the convoy hadn't registered it at all. There hadn't been much to do down there other than simply watch and take in the memories. You remember the rough speed, the orientation, how long you had traveled, make a mental estimate, apply the map's scale and...

Opening your eyes, you look at the map and point at a blank section. “There.”

“...what?” Korash-22 looked at you strangely, still working on unrolling the map and supplemental parts.

“That's where it is.”

“You cannot know that for certain."

“My powers of estimation are quite refined, I assure you.” You reply smoothly.

Korash-22 frowned, looking around him. He reached down below the table, searching through small drawers before withdrawing a map compass and quill before holding them out to you. “Please, the whole route. Check your work.”

>>6021956
Nodding, you carefully set the quill to the side before unfolding the compass in your hand. You check the measurements on the side, mentally counting how many arcs you'll have to make. Korash-22 watches you intently, which you couldn't help but feel a little put out by. Was he really so distrustful of you that he feld the need to check your work?

You swallow the irritation easily, instead opting to try and make conversation to distract him. “I thought you weren't especially spiritual... but also not so unbiased as to be neutral?"

“In the sense that I still have my own opinions at the end of the day?” Korash-22 chuckled. “Perhaps. As to the other question, some students... eh, even some adepts- I offer an ear and some advice for them when they feel lost. I think most of them come to me because I hold no great position of spiritual power, and frankly I'm still undecided on whether I'm offended by that or not.”

“Advice?”

“I soothe them, reassure them, show them the path when they've fallen off it.” Korash-22 shrugs, the human gesture oddly distorted by the cybernetics bowing his back. “Some are simply looking to expand their horizons past what they've limited themselves to. I'm who they approach when they feel too intimidated to ask their questions to the actual powers within this forge. Alpha, for all his greatness, can be a rather... monolithic figure. In more ways than one.”

>"He is rather large, yes."
>"So what's your interest in Corvus-Lictor, if not spiritual?"
>"As an outsider, I still find the Mechanicus' ways to be strange."
>[Write-In]

>>6021957
>"He is rather large, yes. His gait is also difficult to match"
>"So what's your interest in Corvus-Lictor, if not spiritual?"
>"Did you personally go to the underhive? What do you make of it, does it represent an opportunity?"

>>6021957
>>"He is rather large, yes."
>>"So what's your interest in Corvus-Lictor, if not spiritual?"

>>6021957
>"He is rather large, yes. His gait is also difficult to match"
>[Write-In]
"As intimidating as he is, I find myself comforted by his presence in some way. Knowing of his wisdom, authority and benevolence to me and my situation inspires a sense of confidence."
Leb doesnt have family so she wouldn't know how to describe someone being fatherly, but A05 has been very understanding, accommodating, and polite to the point of kindness.

>>6021957
>"He is rather large, yes."
>"So what's your interest in Corvus-Lictor, if not spiritual?"
Also supporting this write in >>6022166.

>>6022166
+1

>"He is rather large, yes." + et. all
>"So what's your interest in Corvus Lictor, if not spiritual?"
>A positive comment about the big wheel man.
Writing.