Computer Virus
Viruses are designed to spread from host to host and can replicate themselves, much like flu viruses. Naturally occurring computer viruses do not exist on the internet.
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All the Great Beings ever wanted was control. Not simply control over a tribe or a planet, they knew better than that. They thought bigger. They knew that control came from knowledge. And the ultimate knowledge would naturally garner the ultimate control. So they threw themselves into their research, dissecting the universe, probing its fundamental laws, gaining further knowledge and power with each new discovery.
And yet, they hit a snag. When they had probed so deeply they thought they almost had the ultimate truth in their hands, they encountered a property of that truth that they couldnât understand. It appeared first as a sort of pull. A force that guided the universe towards certain states.
Was it inexorable fate? Did it mean, as many of the Great Beings had suspected, that free will was an illusion?
No, it didnât quite work that way. That would have been simple, understandable, acceptable even. The universe was not that kind to the Great Beings. The universe, it seemed, wanted to play a game. It wasnât fate, it was . . .
It became the question that filled the Great Beingsâ minds day and night. What was it?
First they went to their original teacher. The Great Beings had once conquered the Dream Eater to gain their genius. Perhaps they could extract the truth from the Dream Eater about . . .
Annona laughed loud and long at their question. And in her impossible eyes, the Great Beings saw fear.
So they returned to their workshop and kept up the research, no wiser than before. As the Great Beings delved deeper into this this new thread of reality they discovered that it just grew more complicated and frustrating. It was indescribable and unjustifiable, it contradicted itself constantly. And no matter how maddening it became, it was impossible to look away from, because it always seemed to be posing the question: what is your . . .
But they made no progress. Even as their obsession deepened, the Great Beings could not find even a scrap of sense or consistency that wasnât torn down by the very next discovery. Â Not even the laws of randomness applied. The truth that they knew must be there always felt like it was just out of reach. Many abandoned the subject in disgust, returning to the safety of technological innovation.
And in the northern frost, up sprung the pool.
The Great Beings knew immediately that something had happened. The world just felt different when they woke up one day. But it took them a few days to receive word from the source. An abnormal seismic event that had the Element Lords of Ice and Earth acting strangely. Whispers circulating among the tribes.
They got a sample as quickly as they could. It was . . .
It seemed that this new substance was a physical distillation of the very same law of reality they had been studying. Which was impossible. But the Great Beings had found themselves growing disturbingly used to the impossible. As they continued to experiment with the substance, their thoughts became preoccupied with the same irrationality. They tried to put it out of mind. Fundamental properties of the universe werenât sentient. They didnât intentionally manifest as pseudo-matter and place themselves so as to taunt living beings.
Did they?
Word spread quickly among the tribes. Everyone knew about the mysterious pool in the north. Everyone had heard or, if they were unlucky, seen what happened to those who touched the surface. They knew of the monstrous transformations, the rending flesh and splintering bone that reshaped itself like clay, the increasingly strange and metallic screams that ring to this day in the ears of the witnesses who heard them. And those were the lucky ones, the cases where the poolâs effects could be understood by the mortal mind. Some who had touched it were just gone without a trace.
Yes, everyone on Spherus Magna knew about the pool.
And it pulled them.
People of every tribe, some hundreds of miles away, would be plagued by the uneasy thought of its existence at all times of the day. Agori would wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, the image of the poolâs shimmering surface burned into their mindâs eye even if they had never seen it before. Like an oil slick on the fabric of reality. They would stand at their windows and look at the starry sky, and grip the windowsill so hard their fingers bled to stop themselves from walking away towards the northern horizon.
Come, whispered the pool, donât you want to see whatâs in store? I am here for you and only you. Come to me. Take the dive. Accept your . . .
Ask a Magnan today why the Core War was fought, and they will tell you it was over power. âThe pool in the north held a substance that could be turned into a weapon,â they will say. âThe Element Lords coveted it. They wanted to use it to conquer each other.â
Such is the legend they tell to save themselves from the memory of a truth they canât understand. No one truly knows why the Core War started, but deep in their hearts they know it was never really about power. It was about the pull.
As the war raged outside their fortresses, the Great Beings continued their research. No longer did they find joy in the work of discovery; all that was left was the all-consuming need to understand. Gradually, day by day, experiment by painful, dangerous, experiment, they began to unlock the secrets of the poolâs contents. They named it. They stabilized it. They purified it. They changed its state. They made things out of it.
They made life out of it.
The ultimate creation, the only thing that had eluded the Great Beings for all of their lives. From the darkness they had dubbed âprotodermisâ emerged a light of a kind they had never seen before.
A strange light. A light they feared. They named it Ignika.
And when one of their number touched it and was cursed, and then driven insane, they asked him why. âWhy did you touch it when you knew it was dangerous? You knew its effects could not be predicted.â
The mad one laughed long and loud at the question. âWell, it had to be done!â he said. âIt had to! I had to! It was my . . .â
They locked him in a tower so they wouldnât have to hear him anymore.
Impossibilities remained, but the Great Beings had found a hope to cling to. Maybe they didnât understand the substance, but they could control it. And what better way to exercise their control over it than to build with it? With the new properties they had discovered in protodermis, they would make their greatest creation yet. A machine to fly into the stars and explore, to discover the meaning of its own substance. To discover the truth. And then, once it had found the truth, to bring it back to them. And then, finally, they would know. Finally, they would understand . . .
The Great Machine was large. Larger than the Great Beings expected it to be. Its very foundations stretched to the sky. Within them lay miles of passageways, tons of wires and gears, endless machinery that blotted out the sun. It felt as if the rapidly growing framework warped space around it, to make the pitch black tunnels within spiral on into an endless maze of shadows, larger than the frame that encased it (larger than the planet itself?). Once an Agori made a break for foundations and disappeared into them before the worker drones could stop him. No one knows why. Perhaps he felt pulled to them. He didnât come back out. Reports that the drones had detected voices coming from within the maze were ignored.
The Great Beings went one day to their architect slave. Artahka, the maker of the Great Machine. Together, they observed the components he had designed as they were lowered down, down, miles down into the depths of the Machine to be put into place. Artahka smiled. He was proud.
Then the Great Beings asked him what a partâs purpose was.
He looked confused. âI donât know,â he said, as if it should be obvious that he wouldnât. âMy mask shows me what must be made, and I have the drones make it.â He smiled again. âIt is all in the course of . . .â
Oh, how the Great Beings howled at the sound of that.
Oh, how they punished the architect slave for the mere mention of the word. For the first and last time in his life, Artahka knew pain.
He wept, for he did not understand. âWhy?â he cried. âWhy do you hurt me when I only do what you made me to do?â The Great Beings did not listen.
As the Core War raged around them and the world fell to pieces, they pushed forward. Â The machine began to take on a shape at once familiar and strange. The Great Beings hadnât intended to build it in their own image. As it grew ever larger, they grew less and less sure of why they did what they did. Why build islands? Why simulate soil and weather? Why create domes arched like the sky? It didnât matter, they were sure this was what they must do.
Every resource they had, every hour of their days, every last scrap of their passion and their sanity, they threw into the construction of the Machine powered by the contents of the pool. It was their final victory against the Great Impossibility, they told themselves. âLook what we have built from that which confounded us!â they said. âLook how we have dissected it, determined its properties, bent it to our whim! With this, we have conquered! With this, we control . . .â
And so they built a living altar to their hated god.
And when Velika, The Riddler, stole away and secretly planted a seed in the minds of their worker drones, even though he knew he would not like the results, he could not tell you why he did it. (Well, it had to be done, he thought to himself. It had to. I had to.)
And when the Machine was launched, the Great Beings dragged themselves back to their decrepit fortresses and vaults, locking themselves away to wait out the apocalypse they had been unable to prepare for. They could not remember or explain why they had done everything they had done over the past year. They were no longer even sure if the Machine would even do what they had made it for. But they knew there was nothing left for them to do now. Only wait.
And when the matoran opened their eyes for the first time onto the universe, they were confused and frightened. And they turned to the Great Machine, and they gave it a new name. And they asked it, âWhat are we to do? How are we to live? Give us principles to guide us.â
*All present-day character ages are canon, taken from BS01*
So if Gresh is in the equivalent of his mid-20âČs during 2009/2010, but is too young to remember the Shattering, which would mean he was an infant or even a newborn at the time, that would mean the 100,000 years between the Shattering and 09 is about the equivalent of 25 human years for Agori/Glatorian.Â
From this, we can determine interesting things, like that the conversion rate of human age into Spherus Magnan age is roughly 4,000 Spherus Magnan years to 1 human year.Â
We can also determine terrifying things, like how old certain characters were during the Core War.
Ackar is in his late 40âČs during 09, which would mean he was in his early to mid 20âČs in the war.Â
Scared yet? No? Well what if I told you that would mean Tarix and Vastus, around their early 40âČs in 09, would have been teenagers no older than 17?Â
Not awful enough? Well how about the fact that it would mean Kiina, in her mid 30âČs in 09 and confirmed to have fought in the war, would have been no older than the equivalent of 11 years old? Same likely goes for Gelu, Strakk, Malum, Perditus, and so. Many. More.
The Element Lords were fighting their stupid, pointless war with fucking child soldiers. As if blowing up your planet over a puddle of mutagenic mercury wasnât bad enough, they gave children swords and guns and sent them off to die for it.Â
And what did the Great Beings do about it? Did they step in? Did they intervene? Did they protect those children? No. No, they didnât. Instead, half of them built a giant robot and fired it into space so it could come back a few generations later to fix their problems for them. Meanwhile, the other half built an army of shapeshifting robotic murderers to kill the children. Because thatâs how wars are ended.
