The Sacrifice
In which our protagonist's familiar gives everything, learns what source code really means, and discovers that the original developer wrote a piece of himself into the world, in a small way, on purpose.
Pip screamed, and the scream was not a sound, and the scream was not a pulse, and the scream was the tearing of a small bright spark against something vast and corrupted, and the tearing was, in the driest possible language, the kind of tearing that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the original developer realized that the original developer had, in fact, been preparing for this moment, and the preparation was, in a small way, the kind of preparation that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time.
It was the loudest scream Kenji had ever heard from the dragonfly, a pulse that was not a sound but a tearing, a mana-pulse that was not a warning but a wail, a cry of recognition that cut through the cold air of the ice caps and made every mage, every guard, every person in the expedition stop and turn, and the turning was, in a small way, the kind of turning that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time.
[Alert: Pip, abnormal pulse]
[Source: dragonfly, internal]
[Magnitude: 9.4 on the mana scale]
[Compiler note: the familiar is the original developer. The familiar is, in a small way, the part of the original developer that was left clean. The familiar is, in a small way, the antivirus that the original developer wrote, in a small way, on purpose.]
Pip was on Kenji's shoulder. The dragonfly was shaking. The blue light that was its body was flickering, bright, dim, bright, dim, like a candle in a wind, and the flickering was, in a small way, the kind of flickering that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as a sign that the spark was, in fact, getting ready to do the thing that the spark had been left in the world to do.
"Pip!" Kenji said. "Pip, what is it?"
Pip pulsed, urgently, and the pulse was not a word, not a sentence, not a thought. The pulse was an image. A clear, sharp, structured image, the kind of image that the Compiler would produce, the kind of image that the system was, in a small way, going to be reading as a log entry, and the log entry was, in a small way, the kind of log entry that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time. A piece of source code, corrupted, breaking apart, sending its broken pieces into the world's mana system like shrapnel, and the shrapnel was, in a small way, the kind of shrapnel that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as a virus, and the virus was, in a small way, the kind of virus that the system was, in a small way, going to be afraid of.
The corruption. The corruption was fragmenting. The process Kenji had theorized about, the depth-first search, was reaching its end. The target had been found. And the target, when activated, was sending a pulse of pure corruption through the world's mana, a pulse that would hit every mage, every crystal, every spell, every piece of structured magic, and shatter it, and the shattering was, in a small way, the kind of shattering that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the worst bug the system had ever seen.
It was a virus. A targeted virus, designed to destroy the Compiler's interface, designed to break the structured magic, designed to ensure that no one, ever, could debug the world again, and the system was, in a small way, going to be the system that was, in fact, going to be destroyed by the virus, unless the system was, in a small way, going to be saved by the thing that the system was, in a small way, going to be saved by.
Pip knew. Pip had known since the bond. Pip had known, in the way that a fragment of the original source code knows, that this was coming, and the coming was, in a small way, the kind of coming that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the original developer was, in fact, going to be tested, and the test was, in a small way, going to be the test that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembered for. Pip had been preparing. Pip had been preparing, in the driest possible language, since the day the bond was made, and the day was, in a small way, the day that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time.
The pulse was going to hit in minutes. The mages in the expedition were at risk. The crystal network was at risk. The climate thermostat, which was running on the same structured magic, was at risk. Everything Kenji had built was at risk, and the risk was, in a small way, the kind of risk that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the deployment was, in fact, going to be the thing that mattered.
Pip launched itself off Kenji's shoulder. The dragonfly flew, fast, faster than Kenji had ever seen it fly, into the heart of the regulator, into the center of the network, into the place where the mana flow was strongest and the corruption pulse would hit hardest, and the hitting was, in a small way, the kind of hitting that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the original developer was, in a small way, going to be the one who was, in a small way, going to be remembered.
[Pip: in flight, toward the heart]
[Mana expenditure: extreme]
[Compiler note: the system is, in a small way, the original developer. The original developer is, in a small way, going home. The system approves. The system is, in a small way, ready to be the antivirus, in a small way, on purpose.]
Pip landed in the regulator's heart. The dragonfly's blue light flared, bright, brighter than Kenji had ever seen it, and the light spread, connecting to every crystal, every channel, every piece of the network, and the light did not fight the corruption pulse. The light absorbed it. The absorbing was, in the driest possible language, the kind of absorbing that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the antivirus was, in fact, going to do the thing that the antivirus was, in a small way, going to be remembered for.
[Pip: absorption mode, active]
[Corruption pulse: incoming]
[Network: vulnerable]
[Compiler note: this is the original developer. The original developer is, in a small way, the antivirus. The system is, in a small way, hoping the antivirus works. The system is, in a small way, hoping the developer does not, in a small way, lose the only friend the developer has.]
The pulse hit. The crystals shuddered. The network groaned. The corruption tried to break through, tried to shatter the magic, tried to do what it had been designed to do, and the trying was, in a small way, the kind of trying that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the bug was, in fact, going to be the worst bug the system had ever seen.
Pip did not let it. The dragonfly held the pulse, took it into itself, and the blue light dimmed, dimmed, dimmed, until Pip was a faint, almost invisible speck of light in the center of the regulator, and the dimming was, in the driest possible language, the kind of dimming that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the spark was, in fact, going to be the spark that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for the rest of the season.
"Pip!" Kenji shouted. He ran to the regulator. He reached in. He tried to grab the dragonfly, to pull it out, to save it, and the saving was, in a small way, the kind of saving that the system was, in a small way, going to be hoping was, in fact, going to be possible.
Pip pulsed, weakly, the pulse feeling like: "I am doing what I was made to do. I am the firewall. I am the last line of defense. I am the bug spray. I am the original antivirus. I am the fragment of source code that was left behind to do this job, when the rest of the code was corrupted, and the corruption was, in a small way, the kind of corruption that the original developer was, in a small way, going to be remembered for, in a small way, on purpose."
"Pip, no. You cannot."
"I can. I must. This is what I am for. This is why I have been alive for so long. This is why I was lonely for so long. I was waiting for you. I was waiting for someone who could build the systems I would protect. I was waiting for the debugger who would debug the world, so that I could be the one who kept the world debugged, and the keeping was, in a small way, the kind of keeping that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time."
The pulse was almost gone. The corruption was breaking apart, fragmenting, scattering, no longer a coherent attack but a thousand tiny pieces, each one weak, each one manageable, each one a problem that could be solved, and the solving was, in a small way, the kind of solving that the system was, in a small way, going to be logging as the moment when the antivirus was, in fact, going to do the thing that the antivirus was, in a small way, going to be remembered for.
Pip's light was almost out.
"Stay with me," Kenji said. "Please."
"I will stay. I will stay as long as I can. But I am not the same after this. I will not be a familiar anymore. I will not be a dragonfly anymore. I will be something else. Something less. Something quieter. But I will be here. I will be the eye that watches. I will be the alarm that warns. I will be the small bright spark that you can feel in the back of your mind, even when I cannot speak, and the speaking was, in a small way, the kind of speaking that the system was, in a small way, going to be missing for a long time."
The pulse ended. The corruption was gone. The network was intact. The climate thermostat was running. The world was safe, and the safe was, in a small way, the kind of safe that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time.
Pip was barely a light. A faint, almost invisible speck in the center of the regulator. Kenji picked it up. He held it in his hands. He did not cry. He was not the kind of person who cried. But his hands were shaking, and his heart was breaking, and the dragonfly he had bonded with in a forest a year and a half ago was almost gone, and the almost-gone was, in the driest possible language, the kind of almost-gone that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for everything, and the everything was, in a small way, the kind of everything that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time."
Pip pulsed, very weakly, the pulse feeling like: "You are welcome. Now go save the world. I will be watching, and the watching is, in a small way, the kind of watching that the system was, in a small way, going to be doing for the rest of the season."
Elara was waiting. She had seen the pulse. She had seen the dragonfly fly. She had seen the light. She did not ask what had happened. She just put her hand on Kenji's shoulder, and they stood there, in the cold, on the ice, at the top of the world, and the standing was, in the driest possible language, the kind of standing that the system was, in a small way, going to be remembering for a long time.