Chapter 1.1: Archeotech Pilgrimage

The road to the cult mechanicus is a long one...

Torian finished chewing the nutrient block, jaw sore from the effort and tongue chaffed raw from the texture. Fortunately, it tasted so bland as to be virtually nothing. He swallowed, swirled some water around to clear his mouth, and swallowed again. He sat, contemplating his meal for a minute and allowing digestion to begin, before standing, removing the IV of nutritient saline from his arm, and pressing the voxlink built into his cabin's personal dining table. He called for Magos Ignatio to attend him, and signed Alexium to let them know his pilgrimage was about to continue, should they wish to accompany. He sat silently, meditating and working to breathe with the contractions and mechanical breathing of the ship itself, while he waited for his guide to arrive. He counted the Fibonnaci Sequence in binary to clear his mind of all other thoughts.

The door chimed. Torian rose, dabbed oils onto his wrists and neck, put on his robes, and left his compartment barefoot. There was no need for any other equipment for this task. He smiled at Ignatio as the magos acknowledged him briefly before turning and moving away. Torian was content for there to be silence initially. He knew there would come time for discussion.

As they continued, Torian began to slowly recognize less of the surrounding compartments. He had toured the vast majority of this vessel in taking command, yet they were entering the recesses where few crew ventured. He was reminded yet again of the depth, the majesty, the life within this vessel. He also knew that once he recognized nothing, this aspect of his pilgrimage would have truly begun. At this point he spoke: "Magos, you have my thanks for your guidance toward the sacred machinations of the Omnissiah. I have increasingly come to view my part in this universe as one cog among countless billions. I am beginning to see the machine within which we all function according to the will of the Machine God. I believe I am beginning to find faith. Is there ever a way to be sure? What was your initiation like, if such memories yet survive in your data-cores? Do you ever have doubts?"

The magos kept his silence, as servitor around you emitted data-chants in techna-lingua. Lesser tech-priests attached a number of items to your body, on your temples, your spine, your arms and your legs. You felt small electrical shocks coming from each, and faint ghosts of light started appearing in your vision. You started to understand the strange chants, repeating the first universal law.

++Life is directed motion. Life is directed motion. Life...++

The chant repeated endlessly. The faint ghost-lights you saw where going down a corridor in front of you, seemingly beaconing you forward.

Torian felt the pain of each shock begin to fade, disassociating from his physical body and feeling as if he saw the world from third person, seeing himself lightly walking down a glowing passageway, with flickers of light beckoning forward. At the same time, he could see the lights around him through his eyes. With the emergence of a 6th sense in techna lingua through electrical impulses and the disconnect he felt from his body, he began to recognize his soul as separate from his bodily inputs. His eyes were just the biological visual-scanning tools initially implanted in his skull - nothing more, nothing less. Should they began to cateract or lessen with age, or should merely an upgrade be available, it would make sense to change them for something that both functioned better and fit within the image of the blessed machine. He thought back to the nutrient block he had eaten earlier, and how much easier it would have been to simply insert such a block into a mechanical stomach, or perhaps disregard food altogether for some form of battery. If souls were the true essence of a being, then what did it matter what the vessel looked like, or whether that matched how the soul was born?

He was lost now. The passage around him matched no memory, and even if it did, the ghostly lights were all but blinding, urging him forward. He trusted them implicitly, although could not determine exactly why. But he knew they would not mislead him. They were bringing him to enlightenment; he could feel it in his gears, in the oil flowing through his distribution pumps.

As you advanced, the chant seemed to change, to evolve.

++Life is directed motion. The spirit is the spark of life. Life is directed motion. The spirit is the spark of life. The spirit is the spark of life. The spirit...++

As your visions became more distinct, you could see them through the walls, you could feel the warmth of the machines surrounding you. The gentle fan bringing air, the vast conduits thrumming with power, the light providing its kind glow. The further you stepped, the further you felt yourself flowing into this world of machine-spirits, and the more the material seemed to flow away...

When Torian awoke the next day, he found himself in his bedchamber. Although his feet hurt and he could feel blisters from the long day of walking, he felt energized, well-rested, comforted. He found that he could remember very little of what he experienced yesterday - feelings rather than concrete senses or snapshots. He remembered a sense of falling forward into a limitless void, the feeling of an ancient immensity alongside his own conscious. He remembered...approval? When planning this undergoing, he had expected the tech-religion to feel cold, harsh, sharp, as he had viewed the machine. Yet the reality had been so warm, so comforting, so alive. He looked around his small chambers with a newfound awe for the vessel in which he resided. This was not just a ship, and although he was aware that machine's had souls beforehand, the knowledge of just how alive the ship really was gave him a sense of energy. He knelt at the foot of his bed and put his hands on the floor, feeling traces of warmth in the metal that he had always previously attributed to friction and vibration along the central axes of the ship. Perhaps that was where the warmth was coming from, but suddenly that explanation felt hollow.

He remembered feeling as the machine, with his flesh replaced by living metal. It took nearly half an hour for his flesh to truly feel like home again.

As you left your bed to explore the ship, you struggled to find another living soul. No-one in the bridge, at the engine room, in the luxury cabins. Eventually you wandered into the library, where in the central collection you finally found someone: the head librarian, turned away from you. As you approached and tried to catch her attention, you saw that her face was gone, replaced by a view-screen repeating the following, again and again, scrolling across:

++Sentience is the ability to learn the value of knowledge++Sentience is the ability to learn the value of knowledge++Sentience is the ability to learn the value of knowledge++Sentience ...

Suddenly you could feel the oddness of the place-this was not the ship. You could feel that those things you saw where the machine-spirits in a virtual environment. No leather-bound books of paper remained in the shelves, only databanks and stasis-pods. This was the land of spirits, and you where not free of them yet...