Chapter 65: The Census Archives

  My mind reeled at the question.

  Were he and Valdemar subtly trying to influence me into testing it out? Please. That’s not even subtle when they shove it in my face like that!

  Fuck them. Not happening.

  It was a trap – a curiosity-triggering one. One that would either blow up my COG, end my loop prematurely, or – knowing my luck – both.

  We stepped into the Census Archives.

  It was my third time here, and it still felt just as humbling and oppressive.

  The interior was the same lifeless gray as the exterior. The ceiling stretched absurdly high, filled with ventilation grates. With no windows anywhere in the building, those vents were probably the only reason people didn’t drop dead from heat or suffocation.

  The lobby itself was a wide, open expanse – far too large even for the hundred of people in it at the moment. Archive workers scattered across the floor guided visitors to the Cogwheel they needed.

  The best way to describe Cogwheels was horizontal elevators – medium-sized platforms closed by railings, riding over rails. Instead of going up and down like traditional lifts, which used counterweights and pulleys, these were pulled sideways by thick chains connected to gear-driven capstans.

  There were five stations in total with each having two rails leading down a different corridor: one for the incoming Cogwheel returning from within the Archive, and one for the outbound. The latter’s Cogwheels were anchored to their station’s capstan, their chain coiled around it. While the incoming rail had a long chain that continued into the darkness ahead.

  Stealing all the spotlight, fixed to the gray front wall in giant, gleaming gold letters, were three lines every citizen in Solvane knew by heart:

  Every cog in the machine is important.

  Every bolt necessary.

  All so Solvane could tick like a clock.

  Classic propaganda. Keep the lower tier citizens loyal and docile by convincing them they mattered.

  “Right this way,” Mrs. Becker said quietly, following the lobby’s rule against loud echoes, as she motioned toward the leftmost Cogwheel station – the only one with no queue.

  The station’s label read: KNOWING.

  An odd name.

  The other four were too far for me to see, but I remembered one of them being: UPDATES – took it the last two times here.

  Becker walked ahead to speak with the Archivist in charge of our Cogwheel.

  “That is a crazy impressive building…” Alice muttered beside me, her gaze drifting upward. “We have high ceilings in Skyhaven, sure, but nothing on this scale.”

  I didn’t pay much attention to her awe. We had more important things to worry about. Either way, I hated almost everything about Orlinth – or rather, I hated what Orlinth represented. The absurdity of our world. You won't find me appreciating anything here.

  “Sure, I guess,” I muttered, disinterested, not even looking at her.

  “Damn, I’m that boring, huh?” she said, rolling her eyes.

  Déjà vu rang in my mind – like she’d said something similar before.

  “Not at all – I just – “

  “What was that note?”

  Again – straight to the point. She wasn’t even trying to beat around the bush.

  I’d expected all oligarchs to speak like Dalton Rose – a whole bunch of nothing, but with so much charisma most people would thank him for wasting their time.

  She wasn’t like that at all. And I wasn’t sure if I liked that or not.

  I decided it wasn’t a secret. Wordlessly, I handed her the note.

  She blinked, surprised by how easily I gave it up. “It’s not a different note or something, right?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You really don’t trust anyone, huh?”

  She sighed and took the note. “I need to work on it.”

  “Don’t,” I said quickly, casting the line to fish for something deeper. “I assume it’s not easy being an oligarch. You always have to watch your back. Trusting people would just get in the way.”

  She chuckled softly, then shook her head. “You sound like Casten.”

  That wasn’t quite the route I’d meant to take. I was aiming to get her talking about the people she did trust – and then steer the conversation toward Vorrick who I’d assumed she would bring up.

  But hey. Not complaining.

  “Really?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Why? Did he tell you something similar?”

  She nodded. “Yes. After my parents died, he always told me not to trust anyone. Not even him. It was an exaggeration, of course – he always exaggerates to make his points – but I understood what he meant. It was a sad reminder that none of the oligarchs would care about my lack of preparation to lead my house – nor would they care about my loss. I’d be easy prey for them if I wouldn’t stay careful.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  A bit of a…dramatic way to drive the lesson home. Especially to someone who just lost their parents.

  “You’re both wrong, of course,” she continued. “What kind of life would it be if there wasn’t even a single person around us we could trust.”

  I wasn’t about to discuss philosophy with her. Instead, I shifted the conversation back to Vorrick.

  “Was he – Casten – a friend of the family or something? How’d you become his ward?”

  “Yes. He and my parents go way back. They were like siblings. He took their deaths as hard as I did. Honestly, never seen him that broken.”

  She paused, shaking her head slightly, realizing she shouldn’t have revealed that, then continued.

  “As for your second question…well, I kind of already answered it, didn’t I? In short: I was deemed unfit to inherit my parents’ responsibilities. So House Energy’s duties were temporarily handed to the Primarch – while Casten prepared me to take over.”

  So, Dalton Rose controlled House Energy at the moment…

  Knowing what I knew – that he was somehow doing Dolos' bidding – made the connection click instantly: Alice’s parents were indeed murdered…but not by Libra.

  Still, without proof, there was no point chasing theories.

  She handed me back the note without opening it. “You can take it back. I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry.”

  Slightly taken aback by her apology, I decided to let her keep it – to strengthen her trust in me further.

  “Keep it,” I said. “I trust you.”

  Before she could respond, Mrs. Becker returned.

  “Lady Verldson and…” she hesitated, unsure how to address me. Eventually, she just turned back to Alice and gestured toward our Cogwheel. “We can board the Cogwheel to KNOWING now.”

  “What is KNOWING?” Alice and I asked in unison.

  She smiled proudly. “It’s the most advanced Control Terminal in all of Solvane. With it, we should be able to identify the individuals you’re looking for.”

  ***

  The Cogwheel’s railing clamped shut around us with a metallic cling.

  We were warned not to lean forward too much – the Cogwheel could shake during the ride, and if it did, we risked being thrown out.

  Then, with a hiss of steam and a hum from the capstan, the Cogwheel lurched forward, taking me, Alice, and Mrs. Becker deeper into the dark corridor ahead.

  Barely a second later, the narrow tunnel opened into a massive chamber – a vast space lit by dozens of Lumen lamps. Towering shelves stretched in all directions, each one filled with thousands of written files. Archive workers moved between them in silence, pushing carts, sorting documents, returning old files and loading up new ones.

  It was nowhere near what I’d seen in UPDATES in the past. That corridor just led to some boring space with a bunch of offices and clerks. This, on the other hand, looked like…a library.

  Mrs. Becker pulled our attention back.

  “Truth be told,” she said, hands clasped together. “I must warn that KNOWING is still technically in its prototype stage. As you can see, all around us – “ she gestured to the rows of shelves and the workers, “ – the written archives are still in the process of being converted.”

  “Converted?” I asked.

  She nodded, then spoke in a tone that made me feel she was repeating something she’d rehearsed many times before. “Yes. Ever since the Terminal Initiative became mandatory six years ago, all civic infrastructure was forced to shift to crystal-based recording. No one uses pen and paper for official records anymore – as I’m sure you know by yourselves already. Then came a decision to store all written records in Solvane within one internal terminal network – and that’s where KNOWING comes in.”

  She turned her gaze toward the thousands of shelves. “Everything created before the mandatory switch to terminals must be manually transcribed into the system by our staff. It’s a slow, constant process. We run twenty-four hours a day, every day. And even with that, we’re still projected to need another ten to fifteen years to complete the migration. After all, Solvane had existed long before it took this platforms-style structure seven-hundred and seven years ago, and even records from that time need to be recorded.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “Why was this decision even taken? I’m also guessing that something like this would require a lot of power to run?”

  “Efficiency, of course.” Becker smiled like a teacher proud of a question her student asked. “And you are correct, Lady Verldson. Each storage terminal within KNOWING – about ten thousand written files – requires its own Aetheris to function. That’s the only way we can maintain access speeds and stability going forward. But – “ she gestured again around the paper-filled vault, “ – once the process is complete, all this can be decommissioned.”

  “What will happen to the empty space?” Alice asked.

  Mrs. Becker shrugged. “No decision has been made yet. It will be up to the Head of House Civics – Prime Lando.”

  I rubbed my forehead, something bothering me.

  “But can something like this even be sustained long-term?” I asked. “You said it requires an Aetheris for every relatively small chunk of information. In the long run, it’ll need way too many.”

  Suddenly it hit me.

  Alice and I exchanged a look. Her earlier comment about Libra attacking the mines and stealing Aetherises took on a new, logical possibility.

  Becker only shook her head. “You worry for naught, young gentleman.”

  Ah, so that’s how she decided to address me eventually? Wonderful…

  She continued. “As Lady Verldson might be aware, the Primarch personally assured Prime Lando that a new Aetheris supply discovered deep in the mines of the Foundry will be sufficient to power KNOWING – and the rest of Solvane – for centuries to come.”

  We exchanged another glance. Alice’s reaction seemed to suggest she had no idea about this new Aetheris supply.

  “So…how exactly does KNOWING work?” I asked, looking for more details.

  “Quite simple, really,” she replied, a bit more animated now – like she was waiting for us to ask. “The records already stored are indexed within the main terminal. All we need to do is type the parameters – names, dates, affiliations – and KNOWING will cross-check the information and search through its internal index layered filters. No more paper-chasing, no more spending hours searching for the right files. What used to take hours or even days will soon be achievable in minutes.”

  She gave a wide, proud smile – probably feeling important about the whole thing, even though this entire project felt like it had nothing to do with actual civic improvement.

  The propaganda clearly worked on her.

  After passing through the immense chamber, the Cogwheel carried us into another dark corridor…and then into one of the most peculiar – and mesmerizing – places I had ever seen.

  “The Storage Terminals,” Becker announced proudly. “Each one transmitting directly to KNOWING using COG-frequencies.”

  We had entered a chamber filled with hundreds – no, thousands – of dark metal boxes, each roughly the size of a shoebox. Many were stacked neatly, others sat alone. But what stood out most was the glow.

  Each box pulsed with a soft, white light – the unmistakable shimmer of an Aetheris.

  I couldn’t look away, unable to compare it to anything I had ever seen before.

  Beside me, Alice’s jaw hung slightly open in awe.

  “That’s everyone’s reaction seeing it for the first time,” Becker said, beaming at our expressions. “Now imagine what it will look like once we finish converting all the records from the previous chamber – just walls of glowing Aetheris. And knowledge.”

  An unexplainable chill ran down my spine at the sight.

  We passed through another narrow corridor.

  “KNOWING is in the next chamber,” Becker said, voice full of pride and anticipation.

  Meanwhile, feeling something was bound to go wrong, I activated Checkpoint.

  [Checkpoint Set: Your progress has been saved at this point in time]

  [Current anchor will be lost upon death, or after thirty minutes. The earliest of the two.]

  [Checkpoint lvl. 1: Time left until Anchor expires – 00:29:59]