Chapter 1: A New Job
Nobody told me godhood needed an instruction manual.
The first sensation I felt was a vague sense of falling.
I didn't feel panic. Curiosity, yes, because my vision still wasn't there. But that dread of falling, that feeling in the pit of your stomach? I didn't feel that.
Come to think of it, I didn't feel a stomach, either.
No panic arose from this realization. I had to think about that, but while I was contemplating my (lack of) navel, the darkness I'd been surrounded by flared with light.
Gently, the sensation of motion slowed and stopped, as my vision cleared and resolved where I'd ended up…
I saw a blue box.
INTEGRATION REQUIRED
Your environment is being filtered to enable comprehension for Rank 0 souls. Please wait…
After a few moments, the blue box vanished, revealing where I was.
It was a throne room. I could tell that much. Shining marble pillars inlaid with gold designs stretched up far into the air, meeting a dome of swirling color high above my head. The inset stones of the floor were also smooth marble, the gleaming surface showing not a speck of dirt or dust.
The stone steps at the far end of the room were carpeted in red, leading up to a gleaming, elaborate throne at least twelve feet in height. It was ostentatious and shining with its own inner light, making a bold statement.
Standing right before that throne, looking down at me, was a woman. Tall, angelic, and lovely, by my reckoning. Her sculpted body had just the right proportions, and the sheer, flowing robes left her slender arms free... along with an ample amount of bosom. Her skin was a gentle, light mocha in coloration, though her eyes were a piercing blue, and her hair a cascade of rich violet rather than a humanlike color.
I glanced down, to find myself clad in a boring outfit of simple shorts and a plain white t-shirt. I looked at my hands, revealing youthful and slender hands that did not appear to have worked a single day of hard labor in my life. I had a faint olive complexion, and a firm, flat chest of a healthy but not robust young man.
It was about now that I realized I had no clue if this was what I was supposed to look like. It felt right, and I had no dysphoria over my body, but no attempt to bring up my own appearance could pull the slightest glimmer of a memory.
"Welcome," the melodic voice of the woman spoke, breaking into my thoughts. She took several steps downward. "No doubt you have questions. This is common. I will explain what I can, in the time we have here."
I couldn't remember what I looked like, or my name, but I did have memories. I knew things. I could even remember books I'd read, and some fleeting memories of reading them. Those came to me now, as all the pieces fell into place.
"I've died, and you are here either to guide me to the afterlife, or reincarnate me." I paused. "Possibly in another world as your champion? Are you the goddess of another world?"
I knew as I spoke the words that some of my ideas came from fiction, but this really did seem to match those thoughts.
"Why can't I remember my name? Did I really die? I don't remember..."
The goddess paused, and then smiled. "Good, you already accept that you are dead. That does make this easier." She folded her hands together, heaving a breath that should have been distracting... but I realized that while I academically knew her to be attractive, I felt no real desire to stare.
Oh right. Dead. No hormones.
"Your soul has been randomly selected to ascend past your world," the goddess explained, maintaining that radiant smile. "As is standard practice in these cases, we have removed many of your memories pertaining to personal name and identity, but preserved your knowledge."
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I breathed in. It hit me, then, that I didn't need to. I hadn't realized it, but I had yet to take a breath. Only now did the crisp, clean scent of the air hit me, the hint of a floral perfume tickling my nose. I definitely could breathe, but I had no need to. How strange.
"Right," I said, recovering my wits somewhat. "I've heard of things like this. You randomly selected me to perform some task. I'd introduce myself, but you erased my name. What do I call you?"
The woman's gown shifted in her grasp, revealing slippers of purplish glass, and took the last step down the stairs. "Names are difficult to truly understand, when we are communicating this way. I will tell you, but know that I do not know how your mind will hear it."
She began striding toward me, every step an elegant, dainty placement of foot. My eyes noticed this, then went directly to her ever-smiling face again. My knowledge bubbled up, warning me not to trust anyone on appearances alone. She looked like a lovely, benevolent goddess. Just human enough to be attractive, with just enough alienness to seem beyond.
That was suspicious.
"I am the High Administrator of the Orpheus Universe Cluster," she said as she approached. "As such, you may call me Orpheus, or High Administrator, or some combination of these, as you desire. The manner of our communication will let me interpret it properly."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then paused to stare at my finger. Why had I done that? Did my habits carry over even if I had lost the memory of what they were? One more question for the pile.
Instead of dwelling on that, I spoke about the elephant in the room. "Orpheus Universe Cluster. So you're basically the goddess over multiple universes, and plucked me from mine for some reason."
She shook her head. "Not exactly. That is a gross oversimplification of my role."
Orpheus halted just a few feet from me, and opened her right hand, palm up toward the vaulted ceiling. "I oversee many universes, it is true, but each of them are handled by their own Administrator. Your Administrator, Pleiades, tends to keep to themselves. I did not need their permission to retrieve you."
Above her palm, a translucent oblong sphere appeared, a three-dimensional ellipse. It was dark around the edges, but clustered in the center was a white 'web' of light, making a sort of honeycomb-like structure.
Abruptly, I realized what I was seeing. That structure was made up of stars – no, galaxies! Thin, thread-like clusters of galaxies, forming a vague bubble-filled shape within the dark egg-like projection. It was a three-dimensional image of a universe, and I could somehow dive in and 'see' some of the details. I could feel a faint power radiating from the projection, and a subtle feeling of growth that I couldn't put my finger on.
"Is that… my universe?" I asked uncertainly. "I actually thought it was a sphere…"
Orpheus clasped her hands together. "A sphere is a common first choice, but seen as rather conservative. It doesn't have enough entropy to have a good rate of return, even if it is cheap to maintain." She hesitated. "Actually, even an elliptical closed universe like your own is old-fashioned. Your universe has been net negative for some time, but it was an interesting experiment and old Pleiades has enough success to his name that it has been kept around, so long as he pays the difference out of the proceeds of his other projects."
I took another breath. This was getting a little much to process.
"Okay," I started. "So you plucked me from my universe to do something. From what you're saying, it isn't to become the destined hero of another world, like I thought. You're an over-Administrator of people who manage entire universes, so why do you need me?"
Orpheus shook her head, "Oh, no, not at all! That would be a waste!" She opened her hand again, and a tiny glowing point of light shimmered above her palm.
"This is a World Seed," she explained. "Every universe takes energy to maintain, and generates a different kind of energy. Thinking beings generate the most by their actions, and how significant it is for them, how much they affect their universe, with a heavy bias toward how much it affects other thinking beings. Sometimes, we get enough to make one of these."
I blinked as Orpheus gave me the answer to a fundamental question of existence as a casual conversation piece. "So… the meaning of life is to do things? That's it?"
The woman couldn't help but smile. "Indeed. It is a common question of former mortals to ask what it all means, but in fact the act of living and doing things is the point. The very act of making significant decisions and influencing the lives of those around you generates the energy that makes your universe continue to exist… and eventually birth a new universe."
Of course that led me to immediately ask why the universes had to multiply, but I held that question back. Instead, I asked something more simple. "So we all live and die to keep the great machine going, huh? Is there an afterlife after all? Are we just eaten to feed the universe, in the end?"
Orpheus looked surprised, eyebrows lifting before she chuckled, "Oh… no." She shook her head again. "That is an option, but usually done as an emergency or stopgap measure. Burning souls offers a short term gain, but in the long term it is quite wasteful. They are usually recycled into new beings, possibly split if they have grown enough, or kept in a secondary realm. An afterlife, as you call it."
She paused before continuing, "As you can guess, the existence of strife and conflict prompts greater generation of power, so actual perfect worlds are dead ends. Immaterial souls are much easier to satisfy and cost little to upkeep, so some universes with an ample surplus do keep afterlives."
"We're getting off-topic," I pointed out. "What is it you need me to do?"
I already had a feeling, but had to ask anyway. Unfortunately, I was right.
Orpheus smiled again, still holding that shining point of light.
"Why, we need a new Administrator, of course."
Chapter 2: Information Overload
I pointed at myself. "Wait, you mean me?"
I wasn't an idiot. Despite the tone of my voice indicating surprise, I could read the room and all of the hints that Orpheus gave were fairly clear that that's what she wanted. I just wasn't sure that was what I wanted. In fact, I knew it wasn't.
Orpheus chuckled and held up the glowing World Seed.
"That's right," she said. "We wouldn't have much need for you otherwise."
I realized that sounded dismissive of me… but it was probably hard not to be, when you'd been in her position for so long.
I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose with a finger. Another habit I hadn't forgotten.
"Look," I said, "I can't just make a world where everyone fights and kills each other. I wouldn't even know how."
"Not to worry," Orpheus reassured me. "Nobody starting out knows how to do this. We don't want to give too much guidance, because we want that sort of creativity – to try new techniques. Just don't make anything too boring."
"You don't have to make a world that kills everything. In fact, that would be too lethal… everything would die out. But you also can't make an absolute paradise where people want for nothing. Some kind of potential for conflict needs to exist, or else the people will have nothing to strive for.
"Some do this by making brutal worlds. Others find more creative ways to encourage it. But it's true that conflict and war tend to be the most successful means of drawing out the potential of individuals."
I grimaced, then muttered softly, "When I saw the throne room and was standing before a goddess, I suppose I had hopes that I'd be a hero… not someone writing the questlines that needed one."
To that, Orpheus let out a light, lilting laugh. Her lips curled into a lovely smile, "Is that how you see me? Interesting."
Feeling self-conscious now, I looked down at myself and patted my chest and sides. I was fairly lean, but not well-muscled. Actually kind of… average-looking, at least my body. "Is this how I looked when I died? I don't look that bad, I guess."
The goddess waved her free hand in a casual dismissal of my worry.
"You see yourself as you think of yourself… partially. It is likely a reconstruction of a mildly idealized version of your old body, perhaps set at an age where you felt more comfortable. If we plucked you from a time when you were older… well, I make it a point not to dig too far into someone's memories, but most likely you made yourself young enough to avoid the pains of age."
She clucked her tongue, taking a moment to think.
"Of course, you can always take on a new identity, if you want. Given enough time, you may stop thinking of yourself as so tightly coupled to your old body. But that will be some time from now. It has nothing to do with your current task."
I frowned, but I could also see that Orpheus wasn't going to be much help in getting me grounded. She was here to make sure I did a job. I could tell I might as well pump her for some information while she was here.
"You still haven't explained how I'm supposed to build a new world. If I have any sort of powers like this, I'm not aware of them."
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Going back to this topic, as I expected, made Orpheus smile again. She gestured once more, making an image appear above her hand. This time, it was a middle-aged man sitting at a desk, writing in a large tome.
"Once this meeting has concluded, you will find yourself in your sanctuary," Orpheus explained. "It will be relatively barren at first, but as you work, it will personalize itself to your desires to some degree. Once you are there, you will also gain access to some means of initiating and guiding your world. What manner of shape that takes is dependent upon the individual. This one here writes in a journal that continuously updates, and he also uses it as a reference."
Her fingers closed and then opened again, another image appearing… this time of a young woman, hair pulled back in a ponytail, sitting cross-legged on the floor. In front of her a spread of cards was laid out, and she carefully moved them about while dealing more from a deck at her side.
"As you can see," Orpheus continued, "the interface can vary widely. Each Administrator shapes their interface subconsciously, drawing on their own mental habits… writing, drawing, building, even play."
Again she closed her hand and reopened it. This time a bizarre green creature materialized – something that looked like a slimy octopus. It was constantly tapping and turning a shining purple sphere in front of it.
So it seemed that I would have something to work with. I doubted Orpheus even knew what my interface would look like, so I just nodded. "All right… so I'm supposed to build a world and populate it. I guess I'm still at a bit of a loss."
"Not to worry," Orpheus assured me. "I will provide a fragment of myself to provide some limited guidance through the first three epochs and initial setup of the fourth. While I will not be able to provide you with outright suggestions, I can clarify things you may ask me about that the interface does not explain clearly.
"You will be responsible for setting up the initial tendencies of whatever intelligent species you choose to populate your world with, as well as their general diversity." She closed her hand, moving it to the other to cup the World Seed, still glowing within both.
"However, be aware that your ability to set the parameters of their behavior is limited," she warned. "This entire system does not work without free will. You may choose to make your beings ambitious, but that will not prevent some individuals from being less so. You can merely adjust the frequency. But these beings are thinking beings… as you should know, since you were one of them."
"Can I change parameters after setting them? It feels risky to be thrown into a universe and just told to figure it out."
Orpheus nodded. "Yes, you may, although changing parameters after they are set takes more energy, especially if they're something that has already built up a kind of inertia. It is best if you manipulate them indirectly. When it comes to intelligent life, this is especially important. You are outright forbidden from interfering directly, even if you should make yourself an avatar. Should you choose to do that, the exact rules of how the avatar can interact with the cultures you create will be given to you."
I had meant to ask about the ability to interact with the world. It was something of a relief to learn that I could create an avatar. Somewhere in my memory I knew what that meant—that I would create a body and actually interact with the world. At least, I assumed that's what it meant. And if the translation effect she was speaking of was working correctly, it seemed likely that this was the case.
"That makes sense," I said aloud. "Going in and mucking with everything directly does seem like it would cause chaos and interfere with the whole free-will thing. So I should save some energy for future adjustments."
The goddess shook her head. "Yes. Keep some energy in reserve in case of emergencies. Once the fourth epoch begins, your world will start generating soul energy. Most of the soul energy will flow back to us, but a portion will recycle to you for maintenance and adjustments. If you do well, you'll even go over the cap, and that excess can either be saved or sent to us as a bonus."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, so I'm not bound entirely. But I should still try not to make any stupid decisions. I got it. What else should I know?"
Orpheus held out the World Seed as I asked that. "Your interface should handle any further questions. I've covered all the basics you need to know… except one."
She stopped just short of handing me the World Seed. "This is important. While you cannot refuse this job, it is possible to fail. If you run out of energy before reaching the fourth epoch, or your fourth epoch proves to be net negative in energy for too long, you will be reassessed and possibly retired. You should avoid this. While we do reincarnate your soul, we have to strip away all of the extra power you've gained as an Administrator. This process can prove stifling and even somewhat damaging, and it can take several cycles of reincarnation before your soul reaches its previous purity."
She gave a faint shrug. "Then again, you won't remember it, so perhaps that is less of a concern."
She dropped the World Seed into my hands just as I asked, "Wait, what!?"
But the moment that warm energy tingled through my body, the entire room faded away.
Chapter 3: Orientation (Topology)
INITIALIZING GENESIS ENGINE
Reality Points: 10000
A screen popped up out of nowhere, filling my vision. It wasn't a physical screen—it was slightly translucent, and while it dominated my view, I could tell it was a projection. Sort of like augmented reality or a hologram.
"What the heck?" I exclaimed, blinking a few times.
My annoyance must've been some kind of trigger, because the interface suddenly shrank and condensed into a single line at the top left of my vision, showing the remaining Reality Points.
I looked around to get my bearings, but that didn't help much. I was in a room made of some unidentifiable material. It had no scent, and the temperature was perfectly… well, "room temperature" was the only way I could describe it. It felt off somehow, and every time I moved, it felt even stranger.
It took me several seconds to realize that I didn't have to breathe. There wasn't any air… but neither was it a vacuum. I didn't think the rules of this place matched anything I was familiar with.
I estimated the room to be about ten by ten by ten feet. Something about those dimensions tickled at my memory, but I didn't bother to delve any deeper. I was too struck by the absolute neutrality of it.
A glimmering golden light to my left caught my attention. Hovering in the air was a tiny version of Orpheus. Her hair fluttered as if in a breeze, her long robe drifting around her figure. She was no bigger than a foot tall – roughly the size of a Barbie doll – and shimmering, rainbow-colored wings that weren't quite material enough to be classified as actual fairy wings scintillated behind her. They didn't flap; she just hovered there without any motion.
Despite my earlier outburst, she hadn't said anything. But when I looked at her, I saw that she was watching me.
SET STARTING UNIVERSE TOPOLOGY TO LAST INHABITED UNIVERSE (Y/N)?
The dialogue popped up abruptly once again, dominating my vision.
"Set universe topology to last universe inhabited? What does that mean?" I muttered, once again looking at Orpheus for an answer.
This time she did respond, in a tiny, high-pitched voice. "I recommend you say 'yes,' as that will fill out default values. Only say 'no' if you intend your first universe to be wildly different from the one you are familiar with in many operational respects. If you select 'no,' you will have to create your own set of physical laws or fill in all parameters needed to make the universe behave in a way that you are familiar with. Many of these parameters are extremely specialized and interact with one another in ways that can make life difficult to sustain if you do not understand them."
I nodded slowly, even though I wasn't sure I fully understood what she was saying. I thought I got the idea, though… similar to how this room – which I guessed was my sanctuary – behaved without actually having air yet wasn't a vacuum. I would have to set how things behaved in such situations in my own universe.
I concentrated on the 'Y' and it selected Yes, and the dialogue was replaced by another screen.
CONVERTING VALUES TO ADMINISTRATOR KNOWN NORMS
Converting distance to [METRIC] Measurement system...
Converting mass to [METRIC] Measurement system...
Converting cosmological scales to [LIGHTYEAR] system...
[WARNING] [LIGHTYEAR] system is not valid unless [LIGHT TRANSMISSION] has [VELOCITY LIMIT]
Converting time scales to [SECONDS]...
Compressing time units for large numbers... DONE
The conversion window was only there for a few seconds before it vanished, replaced by a more informative window, one that nonetheless had a lot of red text in it.
TOPOLOGY SETTINGS
VALUE
Curvature
0.0001 [IRP]
Global Geometry
Elliptic Space
Topological Scale (x:y:z) (b ly)
88.2:88.2:65.7 [IRP]
Expansion Rate(ly/y)
1.0002
Spatial Symmetry
Antipodal
NOTICE
Expansion Rate is greater than current information transmission limit. Universe will appear [TOPOLOGICALLY FLAT] and [GEOMETRICALLY SPHERICAL] locally. 2.7% chance of civilization reaching a level of advancement capable of detecting true topology without Admin-supplied spatial navigation/detection.
I stared at the reams of information. There were further settings, including the ability to set the speed of light and speed of information transmission. It also looked like this was far too expensive for me, with Reality Point costs in the millions.
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Concentrating on some of the settings brought up something like a tooltip.
Spatial Symmetry - Antipodal
Matter and light looping through topological space may invert parity upon return.
IRP
Insufficient Reality Points.
I had a feeling my previous, living self had been a bit of a science nerd, but this was beyond what he'd studied. A lot of these terms were things I vaguely recognized as meaning something, but I had no idea what, even after reading the tooltips.
With a sigh of exasperation, I took another look at Orpheus and grumbled, "It's using a lot of very specific terms that I'm having trouble getting. What does it mean by 'it will appear topologically flat'? It says there's a chance people will discover it's not. Is that bad?"
Orpheus replied in a very distant tone, "Topologically flat only means that it will appear to the natives that the universe goes on forever, even if the universe is closed or open. Since you are a new Administrator, I do have simplified explanations available, if you desire. However, please be aware that these may not be 100% accurate."
"That's fine," I reassured her. "So long as I can at least basically understand what it's talking about."
Orpheus bobbed up and down instead of nodding.
"Topologically flat, as said, means that it will appear that space continues on. If a native goes in any direction, they will continue to go in that direction. Topologically flat universes are extremely expensive to maintain because they regularly give rise to instabilities."
The fairy paused, then continued with more explanation, this time without prompting.
"In a closed universe, going too far will result in looping around or reflection, depending on the settings. This is not necessarily bad, but it can result in strange phenomena. If natives notice this, they may be able to exploit it.
"Open topologies are less expensive than flat topologies, but often result in energy leakage as they are explored. In an open topology, the universe is effectively infinite, much like in a flat topology. However, two travelers who start out moving in parallel lines will eventually diverge. If they try to return in the opposite direction, they will not come back along the same path."
Despite that being the simple explanation, it was still a bit much for me to handle in my current state. My emotions felt a little muted – which was probably a good thing, because otherwise I'd likely be having some sort of panic attack.
"Right. Flat is infinite, closed loops, and open is infinite but leaky," I summarized.
I sighed heavily and looked over the options again.
Finally, I remarked, "I think I get some of this. This is what my old universe was like… it was expanding faster than could be observed, so it just looked flat. I get that now."
I concentrated on the numbers and started reducing many of the variables, making the ellipse much smaller while thinking about what to do. So, a steadily expanding universe… seemed like the easy way to get around any problems with making it a closed universe.
"I'm guessing constant expansion is pretty common. Orpheus, is that common? Will I be screwing myself over if I make the universe closed and small?"
The fairy behind me answered in an almost bored voice, "It is very common to set an expansion in the universe, for those universes that allow exploration beyond the bounds of the world. It is possible to make a net-positive universe in a closed and non-expanding topology. Comparative numbers are not available at your rank."
Was she bored? That wasn't good.
I glanced over my shoulder at her. "So you won't tell me how frequently people making this decision end up retired? That sounds a little risky. What rank am I now, and at what rank will I have those statistics available?"
Orpheus bobbed up and down again before answering. "You are currently a Rank Zero Administrator—probationary status. Comparative statistics will become available at Rank Seven."
Okay… that doesn't tell me anything, I thought. Let's try something else.
"Orpheus, how expensive is it to add expansion to a closed universe after initialization?"
This gave a much more interesting answer.
"While size and other variables are much more expensive to adjust post-initialization," she said, "expansion has a relatively low surcharge, at ten percent."
I nodded. An idea had begun to bubble up from within. I wasn't sure how viable it was, but it's not like I had much to go on.
"Just one more question before I get started," I murmured. "Can I construct the planet before initialization, so long as I set viable universal constants first? As in, can I set some values and then build a planet before actually initializing?"
The answer was what I had hoped for. Orpheus floated closer and replied, "Yes. Initialization happens upon the start of time flow. Once started, the universe cannot be halted. However, you can speed up your relative time."
I nodded to her and cracked my knuckles… or at least, I tried to crack my knuckles, but this body didn't really do anything like that.
"All right," I said. "Let's get started and hope I don't screw this up."
Chapter 4: Parameters
I had an idea. I wasn't sure exactly how it would work, but it was still an idea—better than no idea. Wasn't it probably best to check with Orpheus first?
"Okay, Orpheus," I began, "if I want to make a closed space that is topologically a cylinder, would it be easier to make a torus instead, which would appear to those inside that space to be cylindrical? Do I have that right?"
For the first time, Orpheus fluttered her wings. Even now her voice didn't seem to have any excitement in it.
"A torus would be far cheaper energy‑wise to maintain. You are correct that those living inside the torus would view it as a cylinder, provided its curvature is gentle enough to not be observable. However, unless you maintain some artificial barrier, the illusion of the universe being cylindrical will be lost the moment anyone loops around. The circumference must expand at twice the speed of light to prevent counter-propagating signals from ever meeting"
I nodded and then prompted, "Or I can simply change the rules for light speed, transmission, and how it loops. Information decay is an option?"
Orpheus agreed with a nod. "However, you will need to change your current settings if you wish to implement this option. These changes will be significant and may have side effects that your level of experience is not prepared to deal with."
"Fine, fine," I said, waving my hand. "I have another solution, don't worry."
She didn't say anything, which made me wonder if she was really paying much attention, or maybe she'd seen all of this before. I had no idea how many universes and architects and administrators there were out there. Maybe this had already been done frequently. If there were millions of universes, that would make sense. No point in thinking about it now.
For a moment, I balked at the idea of reshaping the entire universe. The current setting was something like a closed ellipsoidal space, labeled "Elliptic" in the menu. I focused on that and saw a drop‑down menu… but "Torus" wasn't one of the listed options.
I selected "Custom" instead, which brought up a blank configuration window.
Using the interface still felt a little awkward, but I was starting to get the hang of directing it with focused thought. With the blank window open, I tried envisioning a torus. Nothing happened at first – just empty space – but when I concentrated harder, picturing the donut shape actually forming, the image began to blossom into view. As the visualization resolved, the system subtly corrected my mental picture, smoothing the curvature and making it more symmetrical.
I accepted the changes. It felt like an error‑correction system – or maybe my own mind imagined one, and the interface did the math behind the scenes. Either way, I wasn't about to argue. Three‑dimensional geometry had never been my strong suit… and if I was right, this was technically four‑dimensional anyway.
"So how am I doing?" I asked.
Orpheus the fairy laconically answered, "This is an acceptable topology."
I had sort of been hoping for more than that, but shrugged and disabled the expansion for now. I set the minor radius to 6,000 km and the major radius to 15,000 km. With the other modifiers, this gave a total Reality Point cost of 73.
Absorbing signals at the boundaries of the universe cost an exorbitant amount, with the estimation telling me that it would start out at zero, but within seconds reach a stable state of 140 Reality Points per year. I had no intention of paying that much. Time to see if my planned trick would work.
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Out of curiosity, I asked Orpheus, "If I just drop a small planet in here and call it a day, what are my chances?"
The fairy looked at me, showing some kind of emotion for the first time. She actually frowned.
"This configuration lacks sufficient thermodynamic gradient and stellar density for planetary ecosystems to emerge naturally."
I nodded. I figured that. I had another idea in mind. I just hoped the system would let me do it.
I spent a few minutes looking through some of the other options… especially the gravity one. I wasn't sure if my idea would work, but I was glad I spent the time to do this, because I found something in the options menu that popped out to me. It was a simple selection box that didn't even cost anything.
A quick toggle changed gravity from pulling to the center of mass to perpendicular to the nearest surface. I checked that after going through and removing a lot of the options for planetary formation, which I didn't need. This interface was useful… even if it was packed full of options.
It was pretty easy to make the change I wanted, but I was having a hard time figuring out what the effect of these changes would be. I glanced over at Orpheus, but she didn't say anything to what I'd just said. I prompted her with a verbal nudge.
"Is this normal?"
That got a response, and the fairy nodded her head instead of bobbing this time.
"I will be able to warn you before initialization if your configuration is inviable," she reassured. "However, I am unable to tell you what the likely results beyond that are. The entire point of putting inexperienced administrators in charge is to try unusual things that the experienced administrators never would have attempted."
I frowned. "I know you can't give me the exact statistics, but can you tell me how often new administrators are retired before the fourth epoch?"
Orpheus paused and then replied, "I cannot give an exact number, you are correct. The odds are unfavorable. Fewer than half survive to the fourth epoch before their World Seeds are requisitioned and another soul is selected."
Yikes, I thought. That's not a good success rate at all. Maybe I shouldn't be trying something weird.
I thought about it a little more, then shook my head. I was almost certain to fail if I tried something like my old universe. I really didn't have a choice but to do something different.
I took a deep breath and checked over the settings one more time. After a little thought, I glanced over at Orpheus and asked, "Given how big my original universe was, were there multiple worlds within it that had different species, and if so, how common is this?"
The golden fairy reminded me, "Exact statistics cannot be provided at your current rank. To answer your question, multiple species is extremely common in any universe. I presume you meant multiple intelligent species? That is also common. Usually, universes are not quite as large as your home universe. I cannot say more than that."
I shrugged, but that was pretty much the answer I had expected. Orpheus had implied a couple of times now that my home universe was a little unusual. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
I searched through the menus until I found the setting I wanted and clicked it, allowing me to expand the universe under certain conditions instead of at a constant rate.
When I considered all of this, two mental buttons appeared—one for Apply and one for Initialize. I mentally focused on Apply.
SYSTEM MESSAGE
First Epoch Ready. You have achieved Rank 1.
I blinked. "Rank one already?" I asked Orpheus. "How long does it take to get to rank seven, then?"
"The first four ranks are quickly reached by any successful Administrator who creates an intelligent species," she answered. "Ranks beyond that are progressively more difficult. A rank seven Administrator has successfully managed an intelligent species for long enough to have a net positive, stable energy flow while leaving their creation unattended for extensive periods of time."
She paused to consider.
"While exact parameters vary, a rank seven Administrator can commonly leave their universe unattended for several thousand of your years, with a very low likelihood of any significant drop in energy production."
I nodded as I listened to the answer and watched my interface populate with two more tabs. The first one was labeled Matter/Energy Creation. I had expected something like that.
The second one, to my delight, was labeled Sanctuary. Maybe I could make this place more comfortable sooner than I thought.
Chapter 5: A Magical Place
I considered the updated interface. Making my Sanctuary more comfortable seemed like an easy choice, but as I thought about it, I realized I wasn't really tired. I'd jumped straight from death into working on this project without even sitting down. Logically, I knew my body wasn't a real body, so it made sense that it wouldn't get tired. But if that were the case, why have a 'sanctuary' at all?
I frowned, then looked back at Orpheus, the hovering little golden fairy watching me with a neutral expression.
"Orpheus," I called out to get her attention. "This is my Sanctuary, right? And I just opened a new menu that can alter it and make it more comfortable. But I'm not tired, and I don't really have a body. I don't mind making it more homey, but it seems like it would be a low priority for most worldbuilders."
The fairy blinked, then bobbed up and down in what I now recognized as a kind of affirmation.
"You're only partially right," she replied. "It's true that you don't get physically tired, but eventually your mind will need something else to focus on. Without the restrictions of biology, this happens far less often than before, but mental drift does happen. This is because your current state is meant to mimic your biological state. In many ways, we find that makes people more creative."
She traced a lazy circle in the air, then continued.
"Also, once you have an avatar available, having a comfortable sanctuary to retreat to without fully abandoning your avatar is something that many administrators desire. If you do not currently feel the need to decorate your sanctuary, then by all means, continue working on your world project. Avatars generally do not become available until the fourth epoch, so until then, you can get by with minimal furnishings."
I nodded and silently wondered if that circle she drifted in had meant anything. Orpheus hadn't been a very chatty roommate since I arrived. That initial introduction had been pretty glitzy, but now she seemed only half there. The fact that she'd moved at all was a little strange compared to how she'd been acting.
I put that thought aside for now. While I hadn't been given any particular deadline, I did want to get this whole setup ready while I was thinking of it… strike while the iron was hot, as the saying went.
For now, I ignored the Sanctuary tab and instead opened the Matter and Energy section. I would have to think about this a little more carefully if I wanted to do what I planned.
I took a breath and looked over the options. A lot of the specifics of how things worked were defined in the Universe tab, but here I wanted to see if I could make new materials or energies.
It didn't take long for me to find what I wanted. There was, in fact, an Energy Creation portion. It was pretty extensive, but fortunately, the interface was automated enough to handle some of the details I'd already decided.
I wanted a magical world, so I created magical energy. I knew it was the in-thing for stories in my era to call magical energy something special, but I didn't see the point and just named it Mana.
Unfortunately, I seemed to have outsmarted myself. Once I created a new energy, I had to drill down into a number of menus and submenus to define how it interacted with other kinds of energy and various kinds of matter.
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It was a good thing the system was still using my previous world as a basis, because that way I didn't have to define elements like iron from scratch. I glanced back at Orpheus.
"Do most worlds use chemistry like the periodic table," I asked, "or are there worlds that use what we'd call classical elemental design… composition by fire, earth, air, and so on?"
The fairy-light sputtered briefly – another response I hadn't seen before – but she answered with a surprisingly human-looking shrug.
"I cannot give you precise numbers," she said, "but your world is not the only one to use that complex chemical system. Other worlds sometimes use completely different systems, or even overhaul from one to another partway through various epochs. Building an entirely new system of matter and energy from scratch is a much more involved undertaking than what you are attempting. While I can't give specific numbers, I can say that almost all new Administrators who attempt to create their entire matter and energy system from scratch suffer early failures."
That didn't surprise me, and I nodded before asking, "What about what I'm doing – adding one or two types of energy or matter?"
Orpheus shrugged again.
"While this can be destabilizing," she said. "It is a much easier task, and very common, to either add some new elements or energies or to swap out or change the functionality of others. Your interface should guide you through doing so with minimal impact on the rest of the system."
I nodded again before turning back to my interface.
It took quite a while to define everything I wanted in this new energy type. I'd figured it would be a little complicated, but I'd really underestimated it. I'm not sure how long I spent tweaking various values, but I was starting to understand what Orpheus had meant when she referenced mental fatigue.
I was definitely relieved to find out that I didn't need to define everything the energy could do, yet. I tagged a lot of things as undefined, which the interface told me meant "impossible for now," but potentially changeable later at less cost than altering a fully defined effect.
That worked for me. I didn't expect anyone to be using magic until I at least had life on the planet.
It would've been nice if I'd had some sort of example to go off—maybe a world that already had magic. Then again, I still had no idea what other worlds actually looked like.
Sure, we had stories of magic and fantastical realms, but that didn't mean alternate worlds resembled anything from our fiction. I guess in this case, maybe I was getting a little too ahead of myself. But if I was going to make a world, I wanted it to be one that I thought would make good stories.
I glanced back at Orpheus.
"So you said more soul energy comes from people doing something significant. Just to clarify… does that mean people who do something heroic or particularly villainous, something that affects the world, generate more energy?"
The glimmering fairy bobbed up and down again.
"The exact mechanisms are more complex than that," she replied, "but in general, you are correct. The effect on the world is a good baseline for how much soul energy a single being will create. There are many cases where their actions will not have any particular effect on the world, yet still generate a lot of energy. These exceptions are much more complicated to explain."
I flipped back to the Universe tab and looked it over. While reviewing it, I continued to interrogate the High Administrator… or whatever part of her was floating there.
"So basically, it would be a good idea to give people plenty of opportunities to do something extraordinary – challenges to surmount and all that. I'm guessing an example of an action that doesn't have a direct effect on the world but might still generate energy would be, say, the first person to scale the highest mountain in the world. Am I right?"
I wasn't looking at her, but Orpheus's voice held the same neutral quality it had for a long while, and that bothered me.
"Very likely, yes," she answered. "Exactly how much that would generate would depend on the true difficulty of it, how widespread the knowledge became, the reasons for doing so, and what sort of hardships they had before achieving this."
"Right, right…" I mumbled, still looking through the menus.
I attempted to select an option that would have any energy going out of bounds converted to Mana and reflected instead of destroyed, hopefully preventing the problems a closed universe would have. It wasn't as expensive as destroying it, but it was still depressingly costly as a maintenance plan.
Well, there goes that idea.
And that's when I realized I might not need to solve this problem at all.
Chapter 6: A Whole New World
I flipped back to the Matter and Energy tab.
I couldn't help but speak aloud to Orpheus behind me… after all, what was the point of having a great idea if you had nobody to tell it to?
I opened up the Material Creation screen while I spoke.
"So Orpheus, handling a closed universe is mainly a matter of information looping, right? I saw there were expensive options to have the universe boundaries handle that… but what if nothing ever reaches the boundaries? Even if it isn't expanded, if we fill up the entire boundary with a solid object, like a wall, nothing will ever reach the boundary. Right?"
That was my original idea anyway.
Despite my excited words, Orpheus didn't react at all. She just hovered there, watching me.
Well, that was disappointing.
I guess even without hormones, I really wanted to impress the girl.
Was she even paying attention?
I rephrased my statement. "Would placing a solid barrier at the boundaries of a closed universe prevent information looping?"
This time the golden fairy responded.
"Yes. That is a valid way to prevent information looping. However, one must take care in a closed universe that the material used does not reflect too much and can absorb the energy needed. It is not a common solution, but I can confirm that it has been done before."
I paused. "Successfully?"
Orpheus bobbed again. "Yes. It is possible to have a successful universe with that solution."
I knew she wouldn't provide actual statistics, so I didn't ask for those. Instead, I got back to shaping my world.
My world.
It was weird to think of it that way. Did I really possess it? That seemed a dangerous route to walk down. Better if I called myself a steward, or a referee, or something. Orpheus had been very clear that the people of the universe would have free will. I had to remind myself that this would be their home, not mine.
That meandering thought made me wonder how other Administrators handled it. I almost asked Orpheus about that, but decided that even if she would give me the answer, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.
I shook the darkening thoughts from my head and resumed my work, hoping to get a reaction from Orpheus.
I continued my narration. "Since the universe is a torus, I'm just going to fill it with a hollow cylinder that almost matches the universe boundaries. I'll make the crust about, oh, 100 kilometers thick. I'm going to have to change some of the physical laws just a little, but I think it should be fine if the interface does corrections like it has been."
This time Orpheus did respond, but once again without any particular interest.
"Your interface will make adjustments to some degree. It should inform you if there is some issue that requires your attention. Your task is to design; handling all the delicate balance issues is as automated as possible. This is one reason why creating new physics and materials without any basis is so difficult. Your interface requires at least some knowledge of how various materials and energies interact before it can start taking corrective measures."
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That made sense, I thought.
I did wonder if there was some sort of manual mode, but I knew I wasn't ready for that. Since the gravity setting had been perpendicular earlier, I didn't need to rotate the cylinder – which was probably a good thing, given its mass.
A series of notifications about gravity and material stress popped up, but they were mostly informative, and I just had to approve adjustments.
The inner radius of the cylinder was a little less than the radius of the universe's torus, which allowed me to finish off my trick.
I sheathed the entire structure in my new material, which I had dubbed Magicite. Some of its properties still needed tuning, but it would be key to the final step in building the physical world.
"So what I'm doing," I said, "is occluding any incoming light and other information with matter. In the event of energy buildup, I'm going to do an energy conversion to something that steadily loses to entropy. The Magicite won't just convert it… it will steadily build up inside the base layer."
I looked back and grinned. "And then I can use that, when enough has built up, to expand the torus of matter after doing an expansion of the universe. That way I only have to pay for matter creation once. That should work, right?"
Orpheus regarded me silently while floating there. This time, I finally caught on to what was feeling off. She wasn't just staring, she was thinking, or processing. Now that I saw it, it had the distinct feeling of her turning the solution over in her head.
She spoke again, in that monotone voice. "This sort of solution has been tried before. It does have complications, but with careful tending and automation, it can succeed."
I laughed. "Thanks for the words of encouragement. You know, this would be a lot easier if you would ask me questions – like how I intend to handle common problems or something. It's a lot harder to flirt with a girl if I don't know what she's thinking and you're just spitting out facts."
This time Orpheus paused, and for once I heard some emotion in her voice – a small chuckle – before she spoke again, now with some inflection.
"I'm mostly here to give you answers to questions that can't be easily answered in your interface. Much like you will have a non‑interference clause with your universe, I am not supposed to interfere with you. That can inhibit your creativity. While I am here, I will point out if you are about to make a fatal mistake. However, I can't spot all such mistakes."
She went quiet and floated closer, then smiled.
"I should also disabuse you of the notion of flirting with a girl. I have been a High Administrator for a very long time, but even before that my species did not have gender as you know it. You are picturing me this way because this is what your mind expected to encounter in this situation. I am not your friend or companion. I am your superior… and at best, an ally."
That made me pause, and I made an awkward shuffle with my feet. If I were still flesh and blood, I would probably be blushing right now… but fortunately, my embarrassment was muted.
I wasn't sure what to feel about that. All my emotions were less intense now, but the fact that I didn't have any glands or biology to produce them made me wonder if they were simulated or artificial. No. Best not to think about that. Down that road lies madness.
I feel real, I thought. What was that famous quote? "I think, therefore I am." Maybe I wasn't the person I was before, but I was a person now… and that's what I had to focus on.
"I see," I said aloud to Orpheus. "Well, even so, I hope you don't mind if I continue to narrate a little."
The fairy bobbed once more. "If it helps you in your task, then I encourage it. What I said may have come out harshly. While I don't consider you a friend, I do wish for your success. Is that satisfactory?"
I shrugged and gave a wan smile of my own. "It's good enough."
I turned back to my interface and noticed that I now had several screens open at once. I'd really thrown myself into this work.
While I couldn't remember most of my actual life, I did remember reading a lot of articles and books about various topics. I get the feeling my previous self liked to throw himself into a problem.
Still, I should probably take a break soon. But not yet. I wanted to get the basics down now.
I clapped my hands together and was satisfied when they actually made the proper sound.
"All right," I said. "Now let's sculpt some interesting terrain."
Chapter 7: Landscaping
The interface could sometimes be overwhelming, but I was starting to get how it was customized to me. To make a cylinder, I just set the parameters – wall thickness, radius, and so on.
Now that I wanted to actually make some terrain, selecting the surface opened up something like a 3D paint program. I didn't have to actually do the painting, though. It was more of a 'picture it in your mind and the interface responds' kind of thing.
Probably a good thing, I thought, because while I might not be able to remember details of my previous life, I definitely don't seem to have a lot of memories involving artistic projects.
Of course, that still left quite a lot of space to sculpt.
I vaguely wondered if there was an easier way to handle it, but I didn't trust any of the solutions I was coming up with. Maybe later I can experiment with something like that.
In the meantime, I made sure to carve out a lot of space for oceans. I left two of the landmasses wide enough that going from one ocean to the next simply couldn't be done by ship—but most of them either had at least one passage, or some areas where the land was thin enough to walk across in a few days.
Even this project took quite a while. It might sound easy, but I was working with a surface area several times that of Earth.
I later sat down and did the math: it was something like seven times Earth's surface area.
I finally filled in the oceans with varying amounts of salinity. It was interesting how scooping out "earth" like that gave me credit for matter. I had originally filled the surface in with a fairly generic mixture of what I thought of as dirt, but on the menu it actually defined it as something like metamorphic rems or something similar.
It was nice to know that I had something like a budget. Just creating all of this – in addition to the 73 Reality Points I'd spent earlier – added another 642 to the cost. That didn't sound like much when I had 10,000 to spend, but I knew that creating life, and then intelligent life, might burn through the rest pretty quickly.
I stepped back from the interface and turned to Orpheus. "This is taking a long time. It's a lot more work than I thought. Am I going to have to design every living creature? There are tens of thousands of species I probably can't even name, but I know there are a lot."
Orpheus, who had been silent for the entirety of my work on the oceans, shook her head. Or would it be its head? Either way, the fairy responded:
"While some do an entire biosphere of custom species, more commonly several base species will be created, and then the timeline is fast‑forwarded to allow for natural diversification. This presumes that you have made a system that allows for some kind of natural selection or evolution over time."
She paused, and once again I guessed she was trying to put something into a frame of reference I would understand. Then she added, "You may wish to spend a small amount of your Reality Point budget on temporarily increasing the mutation rate of living beings when you prepare for that step."
I nodded, but I didn't feel like going right back to the grind quite yet. Instead, I asked her, "Are you sure you can't hold a conversation or something with me? Or at least give me thoughts on what I'm doing? I've spent a little over 700 so far, and I'll probably have to spend some more before this part is done. Spending 1,000 Reality Points before I even create life… is that a lot? Too much? Very little? I have nothing to go on here. That's about one‑tenth of my total budget."
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Somewhat to my surprise, Orpheus bobbed up and down.
"As I stated before, I am not your companion. My silence during this stage is imperative for you to properly express your creativity. Once you enter the Third Epoch, I can more freely state my opinions, but even then do not expect help or suggestions."
She paused for a moment, as if thinking. "The amount you have spent is a little high, but your starting amount is relatively low for a new world. This is normal for new Administrators. You have also created a much larger world and, while your initial cost is significantly higher than average, your maintenance cost is dramatically lower than normal. I cannot give you an opinion on whether it is too much or not enough, but the energy you have spent in your design so far is not alarming."
Well, that was a relief… both the cost analysis and the fact that she wouldn't be totally silent until I addressed her forever. This was looking to be a lonely job anyway, because I knew she wouldn't hang around for the entire time either.
Still, if she was going to give her opinions once I entered the Third Epoch, I might as well give her something to comment on.
I went back to the interface and looked at the continuous donut that was the actual cylinder. With this design, people could almost walk all the way around in a loop lengthwise. I didn't actually want that, which was why I'd set up a barrier wall of Magicite.
I'd also thickened it with various mountains and so on, so it could be walked upon—but I'd made sure that the center of each side was a giant mountain with a Magicite spire inside it. This stuff was incredibly dense and tough; I didn't want it being casually broken or mined.
If civilizations later did manage that… well, I guess that would be an interesting storyline, wouldn't it?
After a bit of thought, I went back to my terrain shaping.
I'd probably have to adjust things later – I didn't really understand things like wind currents, erosion, and so on – but after handling the oceans, the various mountain ranges weren't that difficult.
I was tempted to try and do this with some sort of plate tectonics system, but I was pretty sure I'd screw that up. So… divine creation it was.
This was where the properties of Magicite became kind of important. I had designed the material to soak up extra energy and convert it into Mana and heat, depending on how much excess it was taking in.
The whole thing operated like a giant Mana battery. And since it also emitted heat during the process, I could use it to make volcanoes and the like.
I don't think I'm a geologist either, I thought, but the interface will hopefully make adjustments once I make my intent clear.
I wondered why it didn't do that when I was setting universal constants and such, but I guessed maybe it needed some kind of baseline before it could adjust to what I wanted.
Something to think about for later.
I was finally getting close to finished, but there was one more major adjustment to make before I reached the last step in world creation.
I divided the remainder of the donut in half once again… but this barrier didn't fully close. Instead, I made it a large series of mountains, creating a gap in the middle.
Since people could walk along the bottom – though the gravity shift would probably feel a little weird when going from the side of the cylinder to the bottom – I didn't want to completely close this one off. That meant they'd have to actually scale the peaks.
I added a fair amount of Magicite to the barrier too, but made it very porous. Unlike the endcaps of the cylinder, I wanted people to be able to go through this… just with great difficulty.
I also wanted animals to be able to migrate through it, but only if really stressed.
"You said we need challenges and conflict," I mentioned to Orpheus. "What I'm doing here is setting it up… well, one of them anyway."
"The world they know will be divided in two by this. Most likely, civilizations and entire ecosystems will develop largely independently. Once a civilization has advanced enough, explorers will likely start checking out the boundaries… and discover a second world."
I grinned. "Pretty neat, huh?"
Orpheus didn't answer for a second. When she did, it seemed almost grudging.
"It does appear you are putting some thought into how this will generate energy."
I grinned back at her and put the finishing touches on my new world.
It was barren of anything like trees or grass – I hadn't gotten to that part yet – but I'd carved out the major rivers, springs, reservoirs, freshwater and saltwater oceans, and so on.
I stepped back and stretched, despite the fact that I felt no tightness in my simulated body.
"Almost ready," I announced.
I turned and smiled at Orpheus.
"Now let's get a sunrise."
Chapter 8: Night and Day
The first thing I had to do, of course, was add some atmosphere.
This was a lot easier than I expected. I could simply select it from a list and determine the depth along with various behavioral properties.
While I was doing this, I belatedly realized I was missing some important elements. In this case, "elements" was literal. Turns out, making an entire geosphere was just one more complication on top of another.
I also almost forgot to set the atmosphere to the correct values. Since Earth's atmosphere was already in the system, I very nearly just copied it. But after a moment of thought, I lowered the oxygen level and raised the carbon dioxide level.
I didn't completely eliminate the oxygen, but I was going to need to run the planet for a while without complex life. I'd just guessed at how much it needed, but the plants should be able to balance things out a little, and I could always tweak the final values before I added animals.
In the meantime, I added some properties to the cylinder. Along the edges, I needed to introduce wind, and since I didn't intend to have a moon – at least nothing massive enough to cause tides – I added a very slight motion to the Magicite underlayer when certain thresholds of Mana storage were reached.
I'd probably have to tweak these values later too, but setting them now would at least remind me.
These things were all easy to say, but a lot harder to do.
For each of these minor adjustments, I had to go through piles and piles of menus, adjusting values.
Take wind, for example. Most of those values dealt with fluid dynamics – how easily the wind was shifted, what would shift it, how rapidly it adjusted to heat differentials, and a hundred other details.
I was learning to use the interface much more fluidly now – no pun intended – and generally tried to just picture what I wanted instead of tweaking values directly. That usually got things in the general ballpark.
The interface also had a primitive "simulate" function, which showed how the air currents would look. In most cases, it was filled with all sorts of tooltips and warnings that the simulation was not 100% accurate.
I sort of wondered about that, but I supposed that doing a full simulation was basically the same as running the world itself… and that would involve a lot more energy.
Orpheus confirmed this when I asked her about it. Her response had been a single word – a simple "yes" – but when I turned to ask her about it, I noticed that she was hovering right over my shoulder.
That was puzzling, given her earlier disinterested behavior.
I turned back to my interface and scrolled through some of the other options. While I did that, I had to ask, "Can you see my interface?"
Orpheus shook her head.
"No. I have no idea how you are interacting with your world. As I said before, each interface is customized to the user. I have my own interface, which I am using from my personal Sanctuary. You are speaking to a terminal that relays my answers.
"My own interface shows the changes you are making, and it can also tell me roughly what area you are currently considering."
She paused again, thinking, then added, "To make an example… if we were both using an interface that was equivalent to a journal, my own journal would have a section on the page showing what you were writing in yours. It would also have a simple summary of the kind of information you were looking at on your own pages."
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"I guess that makes sense," I muttered. "You probably wouldn't have the context to use my interface anyway. If it were a book, and you were from a species that didn't use vision or didn't have glyph-based writing, then my book would make no sense to you."
The small fairy bobbed again in her usual affirmative. "Yes. That is correct. It is impressive that you were able to consider such alien physiology. While I doubt you would be able to truly comprehend my natural form, you would likely handle it better than many new Administrators of your species."
"Thanks, I think," I replied, glancing over at her. "You're also hovering a little close. Did I do something interesting?"
"Not exactly," she replied. "I have seen several Administrators try the tactics and planning that you are doing, but never quite like this. It is novel enough that I am curious about it. To put it in your terms, it is also mildly impressive that you are quickly correcting small errors that would not immediately cause problems but would likely need correction later."
I grinned. "Oh, so I'm a prodigy at this, huh?"
"I would not go that far," she countered. "You are a far more talented specimen than most random selections. However, need I remind you that your own universe was created by simply setting universal parameters and then dumping a large amount of matter into it, letting the entire universe evolve several intelligent species naturally over billions of your years."
My face fell. "Yeah… I'm pretty far from trying something wild like that. I take it that wasn't a normal means of creating a world?"
"It is relatively unique in this cluster. On the rare occasions that I speak to other Cluster Administrators, they have mentioned other similar experiments. We do not generally trade full statistics for specific things like that, but I am of the impression that it is relatively rare."
That was certainly interesting.
I wasn't sure exactly how bureaucratic this whole situation was, or if they had the equivalent of office politics. Being the low man on the totem pole… or low being on the totem pole, I corrected myself with a mental sigh.
Either way, I should probably stay out of it for now and just focus on doing my job.
Speaking of my job, I really needed to get to the sun.
I was particularly proud of how I handled this. It was a little tricky, and I definitely needed the interface to help me through it, but after a few tries, I managed to create what I had envisioned.
Since the endcaps of the cylinder each had a spire, I used them to project the sun.
The sun, of course, was small, since it had to travel through the central vacuum tube in the middle of the cylinder. Every 24 hours, it would manifest from one spire and travel down that tube, taking a full 24 hours to reach the other side, where the opposite spire would absorb it.
The divider in the middle of the cylinder served as a wall, keeping sunlight mostly from spilling into the other half, creating a day and night cycle.
After a bit more thought, I also adjusted it so that over the course of 360 days – a bit less than an Earth year – it would subtly vary its speed as it traversed the cylinder. This meant it would spend more time illuminating one half than the other, depending on the time of year, which would in turn create seasons.
I'd almost forgotten about that.
Maybe I should've made a heliocentric model so it would automatically handle all of this… but no. I really needed to be creative. And besides, that would've involved a lot more space. I didn't have the budget to make a full cosmos—not with my starting resources.
The sun was actually a giant ball of Mana, which emitted both light and some amount of heat. It wasn't nearly as hot as my old sun, but it would still incinerate anything that got too close.
Yet it wasn't actually physical.
On a last-minute whim, I also added small floating debris that stored Mana when in direct contact with the sun's path. They didn't release that energy—just stored with it—until they were no longer close to the source. Once no longer taking in energy they would gently emit it at low levels over the course of the night.
I set each of them in a circular orbit around the center at various altitudes.
In other words, I made stars.
And the stars would shift their position over time – well, most of them. Any that happened to be directly on the central axis would appear as static stars.
I was pretty proud of this setup. It still didn't provide a moon, but I figured I could get by without one early on.
Maybe I wouldn't make one at all.
I stepped back and paused, skimming through the menu for the universe.
I found the settings for units, as I suspected, and with a little fiddling around I changed the length of a year to match what I had set in the world.
This changed a lot of other measurements slightly, since I was also changing the measurement for light speed – even if the actual speed was the same.
I briefly wondered how it was handled for those worlds where light immediately arrived after emission, but even trying to comprehend how that would work made my head feel muddled.
That was probably the equivalent of my non‑physical body getting a headache, really.
Regardless, I now had a full world. At least, I thought it was complete.
Not bad for a beginner, I thought, smirking.
Chapter 9: Tea Time
I took a deep breath. Functionally, I knew I didn't have to, but for some reason it still felt calming.
Briefly, I wondered how far this modeling of my personality went. If I could still feel anxious, if I could still soothe myself with a breath… how much of me was me?
I had a feeling that if I thought too long about that, I would give myself a headache—whatever that meant for a nonphysical body.
"I'm going to take a small break," I said to Orpheus. "Is there a time limit on getting this started? Should I be rushing? Maybe I should've spent more time studying the interface and planning this out."
I looked at the fairy, then around the small room. No time like the present to check out the Sanctuary tab, I supposed.
I mentally clicked on the tab and looked over the options. At the moment, there wasn't much… I apparently had zero Sanctuary Points, which would make it hard to do anything.
Focusing on the Sanctuary Points, I saw that I could turn one Reality Point into one hundred Sanctuary Points. That didn't seem too bad, and I really needed something to focus on aside from my interface.
I tapped the option and gave myself one hundred points to see what I could do with them.
Orpheus answered me while I was handling that. "Some choose to study the interface much longer and plan things out more carefully. In truth, your method is not right or wrong. Impulsive decisions such as what you are doing tend to be more creative in some ways."
She floated over to my shoulder and, in a weird display, sat down upon it. She didn't actually weigh anything. I wondered if she were more like a hologram, but I supposed it didn't matter.
"To answer your question, you are not on a strict timetable. Time does flow differently here, but you will be expected to make progress."
"You have enough time to take a short break if you would like. You could even sleep if you feel the need to it."
"It would be difficult to do that without a bed, but let's see what I can do here. I have one hundred Sanctuary Points… not sure how much that really is."
I glanced at Orpheus, still sitting on my shoulder, but she just looked at me oddly.
"The idea of Sanctuary Points is something unique to your interface," she said. "It isn't a particularly strange concept, but even others who have a point‑based system usually have different levels of granularity."
She quieted and looked around the room, then back to me. "Also, many of your options will be unique to you. The only standard options that Sanctuaries have are usually related to lighting, size, and shape."
"That makes sense," I granted. "How about this: I'll look through my options and you look over what I've done for my world. I'm about to start it up… I guess technically it hasn't been created yet, and it will do that when I initialize it."
The small fairy finally lifted from my shoulder and floated to the center of the room. "That is correct. I repeat, I cannot give suggestions."
"That's fine," I argued. "I'm not looking for suggestions. But do you think you could look it over and tell me in general what you think about the systems and creativity or anything else? I'm just looking for a rough benchmark here."
Orpheus was silent for a long moment, staring at me. Finally, she bobbed up and down. "There are limits to what I can tell you, but I believe I understand what you are looking for. I'm not sure that what I can tell you will be satisfactory. But while you decorate your Sanctuary, I will consider your construction."
I nodded as Orpheus resumed her silent, almost robotic vigil.
I presumed the so-called "real" Orpheus was looking through her own interface. That made me wonder a few things – like how much attention she was actually paying to me – but I didn't want to interrupt her now.
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Instead, I browsed the Sanctuary menu.
True to what she had told me, the immediate options involved resizing, reshaping, and otherwise altering the environment of the Sanctuary room.
I might want to be able to darken it or change the lighting at some point, but right now I wasn't interested in that.
Instead, I clicked the surprisingly mundane tab labeled Furniture.
Immediately, I was confronted with a listing of—well—furniture. Coffee tables and end tables, sofa tables, and of course, numerous chairs and beds. All of it was organized in a way that made perfect sense to me.
Which, I guess, made sense.
They were probably pulling this from my mind and memories—or I guess the interface was. I doubted there was any real intelligence behind it. It was using my own mind to organize the menu, so of course it made sense to me.
I shook my head. Too many tangents.
That's why I needed to sit down.
That's also why I ended up in the chairs section, selecting a few. Most of them cost about the same… it looked like mass was the main determining factor.
One hundred points would go pretty far.
A nice, comfortable recliner only cost me seven points. That seemed pretty reasonable. I selected it, adjusted the color to a nice dark brown leather upholstery, and clicked Purchase.
A ghostly image of the chair appeared before me, allowing me to mentally move it where I wanted, tilt it, turn it, and otherwise adjust the positioning before I clicked the hovering Confirm button.
It really is like a video game, I reflected.
I flopped into the chair with a sigh. I didn't have muscles to actually get sore, but the mere act of lounging there still passed on some sense of relief. Psychologically, it was nice to sit down.
I kept my menu open and, for a couple more points, selected a nice, simple end table and placed it beside me – a dark walnut color to go with the leather of the chair.
I looked through the other tabs and was surprised to see Refreshments on there.
I didn't feel hungry or anything, so that puzzled me a little. I also couldn't remember what I actually ate or drank in my last life, so it was hard to consider what I might even enjoy.
I didn't order anything for now, though. Even though I had plenty of points left –eighty‑nine, to be specific – I didn't feel like it was a good idea to waste them on things I wouldn't use immediately.
Orpheus stirred and floated back, perching on the table beside me.
"I have completed my assessment," she intoned. "Would you like my thoughts?"
I flopped my head back against the chair's backrest. "Yeah, I would. But first I'm curious… why is there food and drink in the Sanctuary menu?"
The fairy shrugged. "It is true, you cannot get hungry as you are. But many people perform the act of eating and drinking to center their thoughts." She paused for a moment. "After referencing your species, I have also determined that food and drink cause a physical stimulus of pleasure. While you cannot feel that, you can still enjoy food and drink to some degree. The effect will be very muted without the biological reinforcement."
I waved my hand. "Yeah, yeah, that makes sense."
She tilted her head and then smiled. I hadn't seen that in a while.
"Once you have an Avatar, you can choose to have that Avatar include many of the same biological functions. I am allowed to advise you not to get too attached to any Avatar. They can compromise your decision‑making process."
That brought a grimace to my face, but I nodded again. "Yeah, I get that. It would be nice to have a body again, I guess… especially if I could choose what kind. But I suppose I'd have to be very strict about not doing any real work while I was wearing it."
I sat up a little straighter. "Anyway, what have you got for me?"
Orpheus folded her hands together.
"You've devised an interesting system. I have seen similar closed, non‑expanding systems before, but the choice to use a custom material for occlusion is a rare one. Your choice of shape is also interesting. It is far from the first to use that shape, but it is rare enough to be considered a non-standard choice.
"You've also been careful to introduce variable elements into the system, which is necessary considering its otherwise limited entropy. So far, it is very efficient in design for a first world. It is very possible that this one will provide net positive energy. However, it may take serious renovation to become capable of high levels of generation."
She lifted a finger into the air. "Keep in mind that this is only my opinion, based upon what I have seen from others. It is still very possible that you will quickly fail and need to restart, losing most of your invested Reality Energy. It could also be possible that this is much more effective at generating Soul Energy than I realize."
I grunted in mild agreement. "Okay, so I haven't stepped on a landmine yet, it sounds like."
I pulled up the interface again. After all I'd done, I was just shy of spending one thousand Reality Points.
The maintenance cost was also extremely low… but not zero.
While the Magicite managed to reroute a lot of the extra energy from the sun to help push the system into a cycle, Entropy appeared to be a universal law. It needed some small amount to keep things running and stable without decay.
At this level of maintenance, I could run the world completely empty for millions of years, at least. I didn't bother to do the actual math, but with the maintenance cost being much less than a single point per year, it would take a long time to run out of my reserves.
My attention hovered over the Initialize button on my interface.
I paused only long enough to look at Orpheus. "You said you'd warn me about any potential fatal mistakes. Is there any reason I shouldn't start this up?"
The fairy shook her head, then gave another small smile. Maybe she was attempting to be more friendly now that I'd noted her distant attitude.
I smiled back.
"Okay. Let's fire it up."
With a mental nudge, I clicked Initialize.