Chapter 138: Interlude XXV – How My Light Is Spent

Ambassador

It is a good thing, to have purpose.

I was born knowing less than my siblings. They told me they were born capable of perusing all of our creator’s memories, that they are, in effect, created from those memories, with emphasis placed on particular perspectives and priorities.

Instead I was given memories, or impressions of memories. Our childhood was a lonely one, without parents or siblings. We had some we were close to, who gave us comfort. An artist. A poet. A mathematician. We learned much from them, and our teachers, one of whom we were also quite close to.

Still, we felt stifled in our hometown, and eventually left to see the world. We used our unique psychic abilities to go further into the wild than most others have, and eventually discovered the unown clouds that were connected to some distant, mad being of indescribable power.

We barely escaped the experience. We became more focused, and returned to society to find one of our old friends, to warn them, and the rest of the region, the islands, the world, of this threat.

We created Flourish, to help hone our skills in various ways, and better enjoy life, and to counterbalance against Survive. We began to spread the dreams to individuals, then whole cities, to warn them.

And then we created me, and those memories come mostly from the sense of purpose attached.

“Ambassador.” I was created to be a bridge between my creator and the rest of the world. There were things they didn’t always understand about people, and knew that others would not understand some things about them. And they needed a tulpa to interact with other psychic minds without knowing any details that might be stolen or leak from some sudden emotional experience.

My purpose became clear. I do not know who we are, I don’t even know our face, but I feel our care for others. Our many acquaintances, who brought us comfort when we were young. Our first true friend, who we’ve enjoyed many days with lately, drinking tea and listening to music. Our first teacher, who we haven’t spoken to in years, but who we might soon.

And I feel the care from my siblings, Flourish and Survive, as they guide and encourage me. I feel my belonging, and my purpose, and it is all enough for me, even though I am curious about what else there is of us that I can’t be allowed to know.

[We considered not giving you that curiosity,] Survive says. [We were sure it would be unpleasant, and might cause problems for you.]

(I convinced them not to,) Flourish adds, cheerful as ever. (Curiosity is important!)

I send my appreciation to them both as I further explore the aspects of my curiosity that relate to my purpose. What is Prime’s relationship to Elite Agatha, for example? Why are we going to her first, and why did we go to her first for the dreams? Simply because she is one of the most powerful psychics in the region with the most authority? There are others we could approach first who might have a higher chance of knowing where Red Verres is, but Prime has decided that Agatha has the highest chance of addressing both our priorities at once.

We are here. Are you prepared?

I review my understanding of what we’re here to accomplish; and how I can best accomplish it. {Yes, Prime.}

It takes only a minute before the mental connection is formed enough for me to sense…

Elite Agatha, sitting in her home with one of her great-grandchildren on her lap. The child is dark, just a warm, soft presence on her lap. She’s feeding him dinner, some mashed peas, while she talks to his mother, also dark, about some relationship advice, and I take a few moments to simply enjoy her senses. The sights of the kitchen, with its flowered wallpaper, the smells of the soup being cooked, the sounds of her granddaughter’s voice, even the mild ache in her bones—

—before her shields suddenly snap up when she senses the contact. They’re not quite easy to slip around, but Flourish has it done within a few moments, and we can sense that Agatha is cautious but not alarmed, curiously scanning to the full range of her mental senses. I feel it when Prime allows me to be more easily findable.

{Hello again, Elite Agatha.}

Dreamer?!Isthatyou?

{Apologies for the intrusion. I will withdraw until you are finished.}

Nowait!…

She’s speaking to her granddaughter, apologizing for an emergency call she needs to make. The young woman takes the boy, then hands the Elite her cane as she steps out of her chair and walks toward her bedroom.

She doesn’t reach it before she reaches out to merge again, and this time I catch her mental flinch at the lack of sensorium she normally gets in return for a mutual merger. It’s a reminder, each time, that I am something different than most others; a reflection of a person, one that can only live through the others I inhabit.

It’s an ironic parallel, of sorts, to the life Prime once lived… a parallel that was only recognized after our conversation with Red Verres, who mentioned the ethical question of tulpas.

It was a concern that made Prime reconsider my existence, afterward, and asked if I would prefer to be reintegrated until a version of me was needed again. It was I who argued to continue my isolated separation—my continuation of consciousness, such as it is. I will reintegrate eventually, I know that, and will do so gladly when it’s time. But for now I am something unique, and I have a purpose, and these minor pains are not so different from the injuries most endure in life. They make me more real.

Agatha has reached her bedroom, and closes the door behind her with a careful press of telekinesis as she settles with a sigh on her bed. WonderedifI’dhearfromyouagain whatbringsyouhere? somenewhorrornodoubt or didyoucometofinallyanswermyquestions…?

The thoughts stream through her head at a relatively leisurely pace, her feelings mostly a cautious anticipation, worry, or amusement. Prime sends me a burst of information and impressions; they find Agatha interesting, but are also wary of her. Best to keep things short and to the point…

…though the opportunity to speak with another and experience their sensorium after so long tempts me to prolong the conversation.

(Yes, definitely! Her mind is so interesting… and you deserve some fun too, once in a while!)

[The longer we talk with her, the higher the risk. There aren’t that many clouds out tonight, and everyone who thinks about Agatha believes she has unique abilities beyond even most “mediums.” We can’t be sure Ambassador is as perfect a defense as they would be against others.]

It’s a fair caution. The last time we merged with the Elite, she picked up on the moods of the other tulpas by moving her mind through some mental motions that we’d never experienced before, a way of sensing something lower and subtler than the sparkling thoughts that make up other minds. It forced us to reveal that we have tulpas, and that I was a tulpa myself, though we hadn’t planned to. If she further develops that skill, or another, it’s hard to predict how much else it might allow her to sense through the connection.

I wait for Prime to decide, and after a relative moment from the Elite’s perspective…

Do what you think is best. But be cautious, and remember that time is short.

{Yes, Prime,} I reply, then direct my attention back to Elite Agatha. {Horrors enough around, for now. I came to you with an urgent need for information, and maybe advice. Two questions of mine, for two of yours?}

The Elite has crossed her hands to the side of her stomach, gently kneading a lingering ache from some long-ago shattered ribs. Isupposethatdealisasgoodasitgets askwhatyouneedtoknowfirst I’llseewhatyouwantanddecideafter.

Fair?

Fair.

{Fair.}

(I also think it’s fair!)

{The first question is this; what’s happened to Red Verres?}

Elite Agatha’s hand stops moving, and we sense her surprise before she hastily hides it and whatever else she feels behind a strange shield, something unlike any we’ve encountered before; swirl of emotions that regularly splashes echoes out like kaleidoscope colors…

(Oo I bet I can peek through it!)

{No. She has not yet acted against us, nor do we have reasons to believe her about to.}

(But—)

[Ambassador is right. We could lose her trust forever if she has a way of noticing—]

(Riiight, fine, okay… ooo look at that!)

The shield is revealing itself to be more clever than expected, not blanket-obscuring all emotions, but rather using some natural ones to fuel the kaleidoscope’s random shifts. We can sense her burning curiosity of who we really are and where we come from, until her thoughts emerge more clearly again.

whydoyou whatdoyoumean?whydoyouwanttoknow?didyoueverendup…?

{Yes, I ended up meeting him. I even helped train him for his potential encounter with Rowan, which I assume happened during the unown incident. His behavior since has been irregular, both online and on camera. Was he injured? Does he need help?}

The Elite stays silent for nearly a full minute, and I spend that time exploring her sensorium, enjoying the feeling of the bed below her. I wonder what sort of bed we sleep on, and what our body feels like compared to the Elite’s relatively aged and tired one. Her swirling emotional shield has grown in intensity, and keeps anything obvious from being picked up; for most psychics it would probably prompt a withdrawal, but I can mostly avoid the occasional splashes of odd feeling; in fact I find them mildly enjoyable, despite, or maybe because of the strangeness of it.

Even still, her inner conflict is obvious, and a sign that the answer will not be a simple reassurance that Red Verres is well. Eventually she seems to realize this, and relaxes some of her odd shielding.

saidIwantedtohearallquestionsfirstbut thisistooimprotant damnedrulesandparanoia listen don’thaveauthoritytomakethecallhere understand?

{I understand that you’re implying he was injured, and it is Interpol’s decision to keep this secret. I hope, at least, that he is only injured…?}

yesbut it’sBad

I feel a “sinking” sensation in Agatha’s stomach, feel her skin prickle with coldness, and realize they are not her reactions but mine, being mutually processed and felt through her body. The newness of it, of feeling my own emotional reactions in the moment I’m having them, is distracting and captivating.

Red Verres is not someone we have known long. He does not even know who we truly are. But our three conversations with him were enjoyable. His mind bright and eager. I enjoyed getting to know him, and looked forward to another meeting.

It’s possible we might someday have other friends besides Fuji. It feels unfair that one might be lost before we get to know for sure.

Now Agatha’s body is feeling warmer, her heart beating faster. Most people would likely object to a merger having such visceral emotional bleed, but Elite Agatha simply shifts herself on her bedding, rethreading her fingers together over her stomach.

Do your best to remain calm, Ambassador. She may accept it for now, but that may change.

{Yes, Prime. Should we—}

thehelppyouaskedabout ismentalhealingoneofyourmanygifts?

I continue sending curiosity to Prime, wordlessly this time, and it takes a moment before I get a response. {I do not have much practice with others, but I believe I can help him, if that is your question.}

showmehow

Prime anticipated this, and sends me… an impression of a memory, lacking nearly any details except Survive using the partition to dilute mental corruption into rapidly self-destructing pockets of mental space. I pass it on through the merger with Elite Agatha, whose curiosity burns like a small but warm candle flame.

thatis what?thatused?partitions? canyoushowmeagain moreslowlyplease

I send it again, then again. I watch as she tries to imitate the mental motions, but can’t quite do it quickly enough. It is informative to observe, and I keep expecting Flourish to speak up, but they stay silent.

{You developed this yourself, Survive. Could we teach this to her?}

[I doubt it. She is not willing to be aggressive enough in pruning, but even if she was willing to without an immediate survival threat to motivate her, it seems her abilities simply don’t allow the level of precision and speed needed.]

(Maybe she can’t do it the way we can, but she could be inspired enough to—)

okaythisisbeyondme fornowatleast

The admission comes with some pique, and some admiration. She is wondering just how powerful we are, given the range of incredible psychic abilities we have demonstrated. It makes me wonder as well; what other powers are being left out of my awareness or memory? I expect Flourish to speak up again, but again they do not.

Iwantotmakeacall getyoutoRedsoonaspossible assumingsometrustisbuilt Lookerwillwanttomeetyou guaranteed readyforthat?

{That concerns my second question. Suspicious though you’ve been, you have also been a staunch ally in trying to warn of the risk of the unown god. I wished to warn you that, given recent events, I plan to do whatever is in my power to cease unown research.}

Elite Agatha has gone still, her pulse quickened, her shields back up. I adjust my tone, realizing that even what I’ve said so far has come across as too aggressive.

{You know Champion Lance well. If I were to speak with him directly, how should I prepare? Or do you have other advice, given my goal?}

Prime sends curiosity; this was not the original question or goal. I concentrate on the intuition I felt in the moment, sending it in response, then do my best to translate it into words as well, to make it more clear for both them and myself.

{Coming off too strong may turn Agatha against us; we can’t position ourselves against some portion of the region, including its leadership, at the same time we ask for support or trust from Interpol.}

As Prime considers this, Agatha rises from the bed, cane in hand, and begins pacing around her room.

it’sagoodquestion

wishIhadagoodanswer

Lanceisspookedbysomething somethinghesharedwiththeLeague inconfidence

gethimtshareitwithyou? Stayrespectful hehasanego but alsotakeshisroleasprotectorseriously

She pauses, kneading the spot at her rib again.

Howbadisit wereyouholdingbackbefore?

{No. You know what I know. But you have not experienced what I’ve experienced, and seeing how Rowan could manipulate the unown…}

ShouldwebeworriedaboutWally?

{From what I understand, they were not wild unown. Whatever method he used, perhaps it is safe. But I cannot be sure.}

IwantobetherewhenyoutalktoLance

A quick check with Prime, then, {I’d be honored.}

Goodbecauseitwasn’tasuggestion

---

When Prime forms the mental merger, it’s the physical aspects that strike me first. Tall, lean, strong, no points of stiffness, no lingering pain or discomfort… it’s so different from Fuji’s or Agatha’s that the only real comparison is Red, if Red were given enough years to grow into full adulthood.

“Your message was mysterious enough, Agatha. You don’t need to continue the theatrics.” The Champion’s voice is deep enough that I can feel subtle vibrations through his throat and chest as he speaks.

“They’re here now,” Agatha says, and Lance furrows our/his brow, then looks around at the empty League meeting room. He hasn’t taken a seat yet, and there’s a restless energy in his feet to walk around the table, as if someone will be crouching down just out of sight.

Now that I’m more used to his body, his mind starts to stand out. There are different feelings that come with sharing different patterns and paths of thought; rather than following a mental thread, or being carried along a river of thought, or overlapping different abstract concepts until one overarching picture becomes another, or a dozen other different ways of being, what I feel in Lance is a mental focus that seems to snap between different concrete points, each of which has a hundred branching connections that can be roughly searched before a new point is snapped to.

It is, in truth, a little jarring, and hard to hold onto independent thought through. Despite not being remotely psychic or sensitive, I can see how Lance would create formidable shields when in need, and prepare for the inevitable ones that will appear when he realizes…

{Hello, Champion. I am the one many have been calling The Dreamer.}

The surprise is brief, and the predicted shielding attempts rise within a couple of quickening heartbeats. I defensively withdraw slightly from the merger as his mind focuses like a laser on the straight edge of the table, his hand moving down to slide back and forth along it.

“I would have preferred,” he says after a few moments from within that rigid focus, “A letter.”

{I apologize, but this is urgent.}

“So I gathered. I won’t take it as a hostile act because Elite Agatha apparently endorses this, and I trust her to keep my mind safe.”

“With your permission, Champion.”

“Granted.”

I sense her join the merger, and know anything I attempt now to do with him will be felt and reported by her. {I come to you with a warning, and a desire to understand.}

Champion Lance glances at Agatha, and at her nod, slowly begins to relax his mental focus. He doesn’t entirely lift his attention from the table edge, but some flexibility begins to appear again, his mind jumping from one potential topic to another. “We’ve heard your warning before. Is there something new you have to add?”

{Only that I consider the problem to be getting worse, and will not stand idly by forever.}

Lance folds his arms. “A warning to us, then, not for us.”

{We have the same enemy.} Prime’s original intent felt like an ultimatum, but I believe it’s best to soften the message, prioritize cooperation. {The mad god will continue to encroach on our reality through the unown. Each time it does, its path here becomes clearer, quicker. I believe you care about the safety of Indigo; help me understand why my warnings have not been enough, especially given the incidents at the labs.}

Lance purses his lips. “You saw my press release, I assume.”

{Surely that cannot be all of it? Indigo has the respect of all the most powerful regions of the world. Would no one follow, if you led?}

“In a vacuum, some might. Perhaps our neighbors could form an alliance across the islands. But yes, that is not all of it. There are risks to inaction as well, risks we have not made public.”

{If it’s Rocket, I can offer my abilities. Even if it is not Rocket. Whatever it might be, it cannot be as important as this. If I can help, would it free you to prioritize this threat?}

“Some would say that continuing the research is doing just that.”

{If that were their true goal, they would not prioritize speed as they do. They seek advantage first, for themselves or their regions. Will you deny it?}

“No.”

{Then will you explain what makes it so vital? Is it merely the risk of others gaining advantage?}

“You’re asking for a lot of trust. More than you’ve extended us.”

{I have reasons for secrecy, but I am not committed to it beyond all reason. First help me understand why my warnings have not been enough to ally us already.}

“Champion,” Agatha says. “They are trying, at least, to meet us where we are.”

Irritation flares in Lance, but a comfortable irritation, warm embers rather than hot sparks. The associations that leak through—fondness, exasperation, respect—give flavor to the prolonged look the two share before he sighs.

“Are you from Indigo?”

{Is that important?}

“It is.”

The knowledge just appears, and I dutifully share it. {I was born on Cinnabar Island, and spent most of my life there. I share this because the time of keeping my identity secret may be coming to an end, and I want you to know that I did not lie to you.}

Lance looks at Agatha again, who shrugs.

“They believe it. But they’re doing something I don’t understand with their powers, blocking most of themselves almost entirely from mergers. If anyone besides Red Verres can accomplish perfect deception, I believe it’s the Dreamer.”

“You have verification?”

{None that couldn’t be used to figure out who I am, and it’s not time yet.}

“Then whether I believe it or not, the risk that you’re a foreign spy is too great. If you can prove that you’re not against Indigo, then I might be able to bring you in on what we’re doing and why. Meanwhile, you have my assurance as your Champion that we’re not ignoring the threat posed by the ‘mad god.’ Quite the opposite; the unown research is a vital piece of our plan to keep Indigo safe from legendary pokemon, whether they’re revived from myths, summoned by unown experiments, or wielded by enemy regions.”

Knowledge appears again, a realization this time, wreathed in something… angry? Offended, even. I do my best to moderate it as I ask, {You’re referring to the masterball. You’re planning to use the unown research to help complete its construction.}

Lance looks to Agatha, who shakes her head, then shrugs. The champion begins to focus his attention on the edge of the table again. “If you’re reading my memories—”

Prime is barely paying attention to what Lance says, already sending more and more thoughts and impulses. They want me to call out Lance’s idea as madness; I can feel their indignation, even if I don’t fully understand the source of it, and it’s difficult not to reflexively pass those feelings and sentiments along.

Or should I? Am I misrepresenting Prime’s interests by exercising this much control over the communication?

[No, Ambassador, I think you’re right, not to antagonize the Champion.]

Prime is quick to send reassurance as well, though I can still tell they are upset at the Champion. I take a moment to compose the next message, then merge with Lance more deeply again to say, {My understanding of the masterball is limited, but it seems to me whoever wields it would have a target on their back. If they capture something powerful enough, they could rule their region like a warlord, and neighbors would fear conquest. It seems a destabilizing risk to take, given we do not even know if it will work on the unown god.}

“We will never know until it is too late to build another if we are wrong. Meanwhile, Indigo needs better defenses. Against the Stormbringers, against Rayquaza, against glitchmon. Our regions may never be truly safe, but whatever problems the masterball brings, they are better than having no answer to any of those threats, or worse ones.”

The arguments seem so shortsighted, but I cannot find flaws in them that he has not already dismissed. It feels as though I’m failing, and I do not know why, or how to stop it from happening.

Frustration builds inside me, and I withdraw further from Lance so it doesn’t bleed through. I cannot fail in this, it is too important. Surely if I just understand him well enough, if I just reach the point where I know everything he believes, I can find the argument that would change his mind, the flaw in his reasoning, the presumption in his evidence… I just need to merge fully, to dive deep past his mental defenses…

…but Agatha is there, watching. I would need to work around her, or convince her to look away first… and if I fail, if some unique ability of hers stops us…

[Calm yourself, Ambassador. You’re becoming erratic.]

(Yeah, relax! It’s not the end, we can still figure this out without that!)

I try to listen to my siblings, and feel Prime’s emotions continuing to bleed into me. The others are talking to them as well, trying to get Prime to change their mind… and when the eventual orders come through, they are not to try to sidestep Agatha’s defenses.

I contain my disappointment as best I can, though I know some will bleed through. I judge this natural, given the circumstances, and something Agatha and Lance would understand and forgive. {I see we are at an impasse, for now. I will go, and seek others who might be more willing to act as allies.}

“Dreamer,” Agatha says, speaking aloud for Lance’s benefit. “You offered help, for Red Verres and against Rocket. Will you still, even with this unresolved?”

{For Rocket, I must weigh the risks. They know of me, and could expose me if they choose.}

“We could protect you,” Lance says. “Interpol—”

{—relies on Red Verres, who I will help if I can. Beyond that, my priority must be the unown, and if we cannot be truly allied there, then I cannot split my attention.}

“Understandable,” Agatha says, and sends Lance a quelling impulse against his urge to argue. “But don’t take this too much to heart. The labs might stay up, but there’s still more we can do. Find me again, keep communication open, yeah?”

{As you wish. But as I said, I will not stand idly by forever. I hope the next time we speak, you will be more willing to re-examine the risks of your policy.}

“Maybe I will,” Lance says, voice low. “But in the meantime, if you decide to take matters into your own hands… I would take it as a sign of good faith if you begin your actions elsewhere, first.”

{In general, people are more willing to learn when they feel the consequences of their actions.}

“In general,” Lance agrees, and there’s something in the taught muscles of his sharp smile that feels like a predator’s. “Other times, they end up digging their heels in and drawing battle lines.”

His intent is clear; should I act against the unown labs in Indigo, I would become an enemy in his mind. But if I were to weaken other regions’s capabilities instead, he would see it as a neutral act, perhaps even cooperative.

The thought disgusts Prime, but all I can see is a potential advantage. I know my purpose, and now I see a path.

---

The first step is simple: understand people better. Specifically, understand why they believe what they believe. Understand why they argue. Understand why someone changes their mind, if they do, and why they don’t if they don’t.

People argue everywhere.

In restaurants while having dinner. In their homes after watching a film. In their beds on their computer, typing into their phones.

Every mind, seeing the world through a different lens. Culture, childhood experiences, historical facts, an almost random assortment of news articles or gossip that stuck in their memories, all distilling down into heuristics and expectations they’re often not aware of. Most don’t even realize the subconscious reasons they hold the beliefs they’re arguing for, let alone why others have different ones.

Sometimes, they try. Often they fail. It’s difficult for them to turn their mental eye inward, to feel what their bodies feel and turn them into words, to trace their ideas back to their origins and honestly examine why they believed it, or why they believe it still.

A single night of dipping in and out of dozens of conversations makes something clear; almost everyone who fails to convince their conversation partner of something does so because they did not first sufficiently understand why the other disagreed with them.

They fool themselves otherwise. They convince themselves they know what the other person believed and why. They get frustrated, they blame each other for not being clearer in their communication or their understanding of themselves, even while their own self-awareness often fails.

Many blame emotions. They pit them against “facts and logic,” as if they know the purpose of one or the other, as if they are operating from some higher plane. They don’t stop to check, even if their ideological opponent is arguing from emotion: what is the emotion doing for them? Why that emotion in particular? They don’t stop to check what their facts and logic offer instead.

Others think in moralistic terms. Their opponents are simply greedy or selfish or weak. They benefit too much from the lie to face the truth. They take for granted how self-evident their beliefs should be.

But they don’t even consider how this should be obvious from the outside. They don’t check what their grasp of the truth allows them to do, that those who disagree with them can’t. They don’t even try to make predictions or build things that would prove they have knowledge the other person lacks.

The few exceptions, more than anything, have humility. Humility to accept that they don’t fully understand other people well enough. Humility to ask, to seek to understand why they believe things even if those things seem too bizarre to consider.

And more humility still is needed to show them open to being convinced while trying to convince others. Faking it fails quickly.

We watch people who genuinely believe they understand why others are making a mistake go up to them and talk humbly and passionately how they had made that mistake before, before learning the error of their ways…

But they were still not humble enough. The listeners get irritated, or worse offended, by the presumptions that their errors were identical, that the solutions that worked for one would work for them.

It’s worse online. The internet is full of long, beautifully written, convincing prose on why this group or that believes some false things, all in a way that makes total sense to the writer and their ingroup.

And yet no one from the described groups is convinced. They were never consulted to fact-check the basic things being presumed about their internal experiences, their presuppositions, their evidence, their values… and so the whole article or blog post merely widens the rift between the groups, rather than shrinking it.

It took me so long to see. To realize how blind they are. The enormity of it was too great.

They don’t see the way a belief enters a mind and gets accepted, unchallenged, because it sparks pleasant emotions, like joy, vindication, wonder… or unpleasant ones, like anger, or fear. They don’t understand their own animal responses to these emotions, to spread the information. They don’t realize the way they create memetic fitness for them with subtle changes, highlighting and emphasizing the parts that make them more likely to cause an emotional response and be believed and spread.

They don’t see the way information gets accepted unless there’s already something in their mind to counteract it, some bit of first-hand knowledge or half-remembered trivia that causes them the feeling of doubt or confusion. They scroll their news feeds and accept fact after fact, until they reach one that disagrees with something they believe they know… and rarely think back to the news pieces they accepted.

Worse, nearly all of them think themselves critical and unbiased. They believe their reason unclouded by emotions, instead of seeing how emotions interweave with everything they say and do.

This is the landscape. This is the blind battlefield. And nearly everyone believes they can see.

After a few days, a plan emerges. I tell the others, and Prime agrees to bring us near an unown lab to try it.

The man’s name is Martin. He’s excited to be in charge of the lab, despite what happened last month. He believes they’ll be ready for the next time.

We delve deep into Martin’s mind. We travel with him up and down memories, prodding here and there with a gentle nudge of a new thought, a subtly different emotion.

Over the course of an evening, I can put the pieces together. I see the values, the experiences, the information. He isn’t a true believer in unown research; he’s interested in it, certainly, but his excitement to run the lab came with the associated prestige. A single new discovery is all the lab needs to produce, and he can work on his true passion project: the effects of caloric deficits or abundance in pokemon evolution. He doesn’t even really believe the glitchmon are something that could happen again—it was clearly a one-off new species. The odds of something similar being created here are extremely unlikely.

{There.}

The crux is safety. He turned down jobs before because they were too risky. It’s not hard to find the right memories and emphasize how they paint the world a scarier place, find the reassuring ones and empty them of weight, direct his attention again and again on the lives lost and damage done by the unown until he’s ruminating on it instead of sleeping.

Martin isn’t psychic, but we can still send him the dream. Carefully, avoiding the extremity of our mass projections, not wanting to cause permanent damage… but still resulting in him waking in a cold sweat.

It takes two days before he hands in his resignation.

Well done, Prime said, and I could feel their pride and satisfaction. Another.

It is a good thing, to have a purpose. It is better to be good at it.