189. Kissaria’s Process

189. Kissaria’s Process

“Lift yer chin. Take a deep breath. Push out your chest like a baboon lookin’ for a mate! No… MORE!”

Kissaria coached Frost somewhere on the newly formed 4th floor. A yellow tint defined this level, as did giant, spacious corridors which would allow larger Corrupted to fit. It was like an arena more than anything else, but much to her surprise, the floor was slightly smaller than the ones above.

This was because floors did not emerge in their maximum size immediately. It needed to further expand with accumulated Nex. Wooden floorboards ran as far as she could see in this place as circular, yellow walls encased them. The central room was easily a hundred meters from one end to the other, and banners containing mysterious symbols ran along.

It was like an auditorium, except there was no grand stage or stands for an audience. Powerful spotlights in the form of giant, floating crystals illuminated the entire 4th floor. One needed to be careful not to gaze at them for too long, less they wished to temporarily blind themselves.

Frost stood in the center of it all, with her eyes partially shut. Her task was only to follow the instructions of Kissaria, who could not express just how important this stage was for her work to begin. Like the Retrofitter, a substantially large, isolated, and sound-proof area was necessary to prevent the ‘contamination’ of her desires and Atelier Item.

“That’s it – That’s it! Now take a deep breath! Haaaaaaaaaa~!” The Kisaria slapped her belly, struck a wide pose, pushed her chest out and began to suck up the air into pursed lips.

“Haaaaaaaaaaah~!” Frost followed suit, even making the same noise.

“Pwaaaaaaaaah~!”

“Paaaaaaaaaaaah~!”

“And that’s how we breathe underwater. Look at me, teachin’ an Archetype of all things some new tricks.” She patted Frost down, smacking her arms in a similar manner to how a penguin flaps their wings. “Soft, but you can take a beatin’! One time I decapitated an old lady doin’ this!”

“… is this this really necessary?” Frost had to wonder. She felt like she was being thoroughly searched by a security guard.

“You broke yer focus! This is absolutely necessary! Now close your eyes and listen for a heartbeat! As soon as you hear it I want you to clasp at the air! If you feel something, then open your eyes!”

Unlike the Retrofitter, the Kissaria guided her along the process. As outlandish as the instructions were, Frost did as she was told. Since she could still observe the world even with her eyes closed, she watched the woman slap on her goggles and suddenly draw a knife.

She made an incision in the air, bleeding it. A slurry of red, liquid sand pilled in front of Frost’s feet.

“Hmm. You have a pretty big heart, so this might be a little bigger than usual. Not too much of an issue for me. Dealt with bigger after all. Wouldn’t believe the size of a dragon’s heart!”

She made small talk as she circled Frost with the blade, carving away at the air.

“They say the bigger the heart, the smaller the brain. I know that’s true for a lot out here. The compassionate are usually the ones that find themselves getting takin’ advantaged of. Case in point: the healers! And aren’t you one of them? Great. You’re learin’! Don’t answer!”

Frost did not consult Nav, heeding the woman’s instructions to remain focused. The sands continued to pile as she listened closely for the heartbeat, and then, moments later, she heard its echoing thump.

She clasped at the air and found a pair of goggles clutched in her hand.

“Put ‘em on. Welcome to my abode! My workshop. Atelier. Whatever you wanna call it. Been called enough things for the last several hundred years…. Oh, you can talk by the way. Open yer eyes.” She was about to tap Frost’s head, but she was instantly stopped with a swift deflection.

“Sorry. Head pats are off limits for me.” Frost firmly said, fitting the steampunk goggles onto her face. They were made from a reflective, orange material similar to brass or copper, and the glass had a unique red tint.

“I was gonna help you put it on but whatever~ Kiddin’.” She said, a bit disappointed that she couldn’t touch Frost’s head. “Not used to this sort of custom, eh? I get you. Wouldn’t want to be touched so freely either. So – Whaddaya think?”

“… This is all because of the goggles?” Frost was temporarily at a loss for words as she suddenly found herself in a giant, red dome. A workshop kitted with all manners of tools, worktables and workstations were arranged along the tall walls.

Instruments like a hand-winched lobotomizing drill, protractors, a hammer, stake, and even a sacrificial dagger could be found. Frost worried for her safety, wondering what those were for.

“A furnace. Anvil. That looks like a quenching bin. It looks like a smithy’s workshop. No one else can see us in here?”

“I prefer the word ‘Workshop’. It ain’t much, because I’m the designated repairer out of all the big figureheads. Oh, and watch yer step.”

Frost glanced down into her blind spot and found a beating, love-heart shaped object. At a single glance she immediately knew that the heart belonged to her. It quivered and beat, but its cartoonish shape threw her off completely.

She was so used to seeing the gritty reality of things that seeing a heart shaped like a love heart felt weird. Kissaria chuckled to herself, fitting on a pair of metal-working gloves as she bent down to pick it up.

And piggybacking off it was another much smaller heart. It wasn’t red like hers. It was slightly blue, transparent, and appeared like it had the patten of a grid running along it.

Maybe at one point you were human, then you turned into a machine?

“Impossible. Machines do not spontaneously grow hearts.”

The Piece of the Fallen Star could have changed you.

“Then that implies that the Advent comes from our world. I fail to believe that. Advents are natural powers of the world.”

There is no way you can call something like the Nexus natural. I don’t know about you, but I’m more inclined to believe that some of the Advents might have originated from the other world.

Frost argued. This was the logical conclusion. Nav also knew this, but it denied the possibility of being a human at an intrinsic level. While its memories were hazy, it was at least certain of this.

“Well, well, well. Two hearts stuck together. I did get the orders for two Atelier Items. Got the schematics at the ready. All up here in this centuries old head of mine!” Kissaria slapped both her cheeks before she knocked on her metal helmet, which appeared more like a metal beanie than anything else. “But stuck together is something you usually see with close people. Not lovers, cause I’ve seen some really gruesome hearts with those ones.”

She approached a workshop table made from metal, wood and marble. Nonsensical gears churned as she pulled a lever, and the workbench magically floated to the perfect height for her stature.

The heart was then plopped onto the table with a wet splash as she beaconed Frost to join her.

“Small heart with a lattice. Can’t say I’ve seen anything like it before. Aren’t you Archetypes full of mysteries. Hehehe.” She slapped Frost’s back, suddenly pouting when it did little to nothing to her.

“This is brand new to you, huh? Never had a machine client?”

“Whaaat? You talkin’ about a machine machine or a golem? Cause golems ain’t got brains. They’re just puppets.”

“A machine machine. Like for example, a sapient, talking intelligence. Just like you and I. Imagine hearing the Navigator talk to you. But in reality that was actually a machine.” Frost tried to explain Nav’s existence, but this only caused the woman to wince, unable to comprehend such a thing.

Machines and golems, while similar, were two entirely different things. Golems were a product of golemancy: a profession which allowed people to create animated constructs, whether it be humanoid shaped or a machine itself. This operated primarily on magic and by the will of the user.

A particularly powerful golemancer can create a convincing human. But in the end, they were nothing more than puppets.

Machines on the other hand were constructs built with a purpose on mind. It did not require a profession or skill: only just the tenacity and ingenuity of its creator. The best kinds of machines could operate on their own without the need of an operator, unlike golemancy where if the master died, then all their puppets would follow.

“You’re saying some pretty damnin’ stuff now!” She poked at Nav’s heart. “Machines can’t be alive. Ain’t got a soul. Ain’t got a body. That’s what I would say but since you’re in the know about the Sites, and you’re practically a clearance level 0 like me, then you already know about the Site Core.”

She kneaded Frost’s heart, toying with it like a piece of meat.

“I managed to meet with this Site’s Core just hours ago. What… was that place? I can see you use sand here as well. Is it similar?”

“Aren’t you bucket of questions? Not much we know about the Aberrations. This heart could be from one of them, but I doubt it. Hearts aren’t this small. You see, this is just a representation of your heart. A mirror. Your desire put on a plate!” She slapped Frost’s heart, causing her to wince lightly.

“Hahaha! Gets them all the time! Hearts – A heart is a pretty hard thing to read. When you look at it what do you see? Tell me Amalgam. Use that big pink brain of yours up there! Use my goggles well!”

Kissaria invited her to interpret the meaning of her heart. Why it was so big, like a giant, huggable cushion while Nav’s was tiny and bared the texture of a mathematical grid.

She pondered with her hands glued to her hips, and she paced around the workbench in deep thought before she began firing an array of answers, hoping to land a bullseye.

“Maybe it’s so big because I care? The little heart could be like… an infant needing me to exist?”

“I like that interpretation. It carries much truth with our symbiosis.”

Uh… When it you call it symbiosis why do I feel like you’re some parasite slowly eating at me?

“Parasite. That implies I am the only one to gain. I suppose that is true as well.”

A-Ah. I’m really sorry. Please don’t guilt trip me like this.

This small mental conversation inspired her to utter another interpretation.

“Grating? Or maybe the unity of two hearts?”

Kissaria slowly shook her head.

“Mother and child?”

“Nurturing?”

“Companionship?”

None of her answers hit the mark. Kissaria obviously knew what it was, but she wanted Frost to see it for herself. Interpretation was a skill in of itself, and Frost, who was confident in reading emotions, could not begin to understand what these hearts meant, despite them belonging to her.

Then, Kissaria approached Frost again, taking off her gloves and reaching out for her head.

“You gonna slap my hand again or what?”

“Go ahead.”

“Ahead… A-head. Very funny.”

Please Nav…

Frost mentally winced and offered her head, to which Kissaria suddenly took into her arms.

“My deary Carpalis tends to find people just like her.” She said in a motherly tone all of a sudden, rocking Frost side to side. “They say flocks of a feather will fly together. Ain’t easy when everythin’s a bird cage. Try usin’ your companion to answer for ya.”

“Nav... Do you have something in mind for this lady?” Frost asked, pulling away as they both waited for Nav to answer.

“Nav. For Navigator? Because you got a voice in your head? What a funny name.” Kissira laughed, right before Nav answered.

“… Existence.”

“Existence?” Frost repeated with confusion.

“Existence.” Kissaria hummed, slipping her glove back on as she went back to prod at the small heart. “Not bad. Not quite right, but it’s close.”

Then, she slid the pair of attached hearts to Frost.

“It’s a desire in the purest form. A fundamental, unconscious drive. What makes a machine different from a golem?” She rhetorically asked, staring intently into Frost’s eyes. “Golems will never dream. The living will dream sheep at night. But a machine will sometimes dream of electric sheep. Corrupted express this the best.”

Her voice became solemn. Soon, she realized that her gaze was not directed to her, but to Nav within her.

“I’ve watched people come and go. Built weapons for murderes. Witnessed thousands applaud the most violent as their rulers. And watched it all fall. Watched conquests of civilizations. Endless wars. The famines, and the death. But nothing speaks to me more than a Corrupted machine.”

She poked at Nav’s heart again, this time fondly.

“Ever dreaming to taste the sweat nectar of mortality. Meaning is what we usually designate them as. But rarely do we get the machine that aspires to become more than its mechanical shell. Frost. Can I ask you a question? As a healer, I want to hear your answer.”

Kissaria was more than just a violent, crude penguin. Underneath her bouts of crude laughter and strict conduct, there was a part of her that spoke with countless years of knowledge and emotional weight.

This person was several hundred years old. Frost would not have guessed it before, but she suddenly realized this now.

“Why do birds fly?”