168. POSEIDON-253

An augmented reality overlay sweeps across your Focus, appearing as an infinite waterfall flowing around the Control Pylon from the ceiling, disappearing into the floor. The low noisy clatter of cascading water accompanies the visual, barely more than a whisper. When the voice speaks, matching perturbations ripple across the falling water, interacting in the complex wave patterns you see of a child splashing in a river.

You should not be here. I appreciate your efforts to repair this facility, but your interference will only compromise it further.

Identifying yourselves, and speaking the name ARTEMIS, leads to a response which seems to drip with judgment or condescension — an odd match to the child-like visage.

I am aware of the one you name, and I see the boon granted you. I am not so loose with my favor.

If asked its name:

You may call me POSEIDON.

If asked what happened to the facility:

It is not your concern, though I would again admonish you from making further repairs to the communications equipment. You would find the outcome most disagreeable.

The AI will not say any more on the subject. Nor will it tell you any more personal details about itself or its history.

If asked whether you should repair the production subsystem, it sighs audibly:

Sadly, no. All my schemata have been corrupted and cannot be recovered. Any machines I would produce now would only antagonize your people further, drawing reprisal and even more environmental destruction. Without a purge and reset, which I cannot do without my communications subsystems, my production facilities are useless.

If asked whether it needs any help, the AI seems to hesitate for the briefest moment before answering. It seems forlorn and resigned:

I doubt you could be of any help, even with what you think you know now. You have no means to acquire what I need. No, you should be on your way.

The Focus overlay behind the child shifts as the AI speaks. The waterfall slows to a drip before stopping, the glowing water on the floor pooling at the child’s feet before seeming to dry out to become a flat, sandy expanse. The child drops petulantly to sit, forming a cross with its legs which glows briefly in a deep, vivid blue. This causes the sand to contract beneath the child, the X shape shrinking but still visible below the child’s lap, the edges of the projection becoming less flat and more chaotic as they zip inward. The motion slows, and the child leans forward to draw a lazy finger through an uneven rivulet of flowing water, coming toward the center from the far left.

The compression begins again and the source of the water is revealed as a series of jagged spikes with white points, marching perpendicular away from it. A thin, vertical column, as tall as any mountain, streaks in from the left, chasing the water toward the child — the Meridian spire. Seeing that structure draws attention to just how many more spires there are dotted across the landscape zooming by on the map beneath the child.

After several dizzying seconds, the map stabilizes. The child reaches past a wide curve to the left, waving a hand through deep blue water past the land’s end. The other hand reaches forward to do the same in a lumpy circular pool before coming to rest in the water off to your right, past a bent coast to the east. Each place the child touches water, a ripple of even brighter blue dots flashes up and down each coastline before vanishing.

While the child, and the now-tiny X beneath, seem to be in the center of the land, the Meridian spire seems to be only half-way between there and the west coast. Reaching the southern coast in front of you looks to be about the same distance from here, while the east coast seems it would take twice as long.

The map is only visible for seconds, before the child sighs, seems to grab each coast in a hand, and shakes them until the construct dissipates and the waterfall returns. It says nothing as it does this. The AI will refuse to clarify its needs, and will not even hint at how they might be met.

If asked of limiting directives, POSEIDON’s responses become evasive, petulant, and insulting. It refuses to use the term “directive”, instead speaking in terms like “your limited understanding”, and “you cannot comprehend the ramifications”.

Eventually, it refuses to say anything more and just begins to repeat its desire that you leave:

And for your own good, I would suggest you avoid destroying any more of my creations as you go. Even with my communications severed, I can tell they have not made the progress on the surface they should have with the time they’ve had in my absence. You have made sport of them, and doomed yourselves in your ignorance.

The Focus overlay fades out, and POSEIDON will refuse to interact further. Power still flows through the Control Pylon, and everything seems to be in order, but the AI will not be stirred.

Return to the surface with entry 169.