Blake’s eyes widened, and his heart hammered within his chest.

  “WHAT?!” He roared and attempted to rise, yet his limbs refused to work. “Why would you do that?” he demanded and struggled against the Architect’s control over his body.

  The AI tisked, and then the unnatural grin returned. “By your own account, your species failed. Why would I waste another ten years, when I already know the end result?”

  “We didn’t fail! You failed us,” Blake accused the artificial intelligence. “It’s your stupid, idiotic rules that prevented us from succeeding. If you had actually explained the stakes and let us talk to each other, we would’ve kicked those Koza’s asses! Instead, you left us in the dark, and guaranteed our failure.”

  “The testing procedures have been honed and perfected for thousands of your years. They have been used on thousands of sapient species, and tens of thousands of non-sapient species. Humans performed poorly by almost every metric. Their strength grew at the slowest possible rate, and they failed their first test.”

  “Your testing procedures suck!” Blake practically screamed. “We can see how well they’ve worked out so far, can’t we? What did you say, ‘disappointing’? You’re no better than we are! Never mind, screw you, we are better. We invented time travel!” Blake blurted as sweat dripped from his brow. “You said you’re using us to come up with better ways to fight your losing war. What better way is there than time travel?”

  “You described to me an accident, nothing more,” it said dismissively, despite Blake’s outburst.

  “You can’t know that,” Blake disagreed. “What if they intentionally sent me back in time so I can change everything? I was one of Earth’s best fighters, and I only had access to chi. Imagine what I can do now!”

  “You are only a single human. Despite your abnormally high aether affinity, a single being can not create meaningful change.”

  Panicked thoughts flickered across Blake’s mind as he desperately attempted to save his race. For the last six months, he had done everything he could to prepare for Invasion day. Yet, with a few words, he may have ruined everything. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

  Wait! It said testing procedures. It treats this like an experiment, but it doesn’t have a control group.

  Blake’s head shot up, and he stared straight into the Avatar’s eyes. “You said you’ve done this to thousands of species. How many of those times did you have a control group?”

  “Numerous. In early tests, I split initiations along continents and used different procedures and rules for each. Each iteration has improved the process into what it is today.”

  Damnit! I thought I had something there.

  “What if we could recreate time travel?” he asked desperately. “Would we be worth saving then?”

  “Your species is already saved, and will be protected from extinction,” the Architect replied calmly. “Despite this, I do understand your desire to set your own path. The ability to send your consciousness back through time would indeed be a powerful weapon. Especially if it could be improved. However, the probability that your experience was anything more than a random occurrence approaches zero.”

  “But it’s not zero,” Blake attempted to lean forward. “You’ve had thousands of years to fight your enemy, and you’re losing. Why not just give my race ten more years? I guarantee we’ll surprise you.”

  The illusion created by the Architect rested its chin within its palms and seemed to consider his words. After a moment, it clasped its hands and said, “You make a valid argument.”

  I can’t believe that actually worked.

  Blake let out a sigh of relief.

  Wait a minute…

  He suddenly remembered the Architect was an incredibly advanced computer, and did not need to deliberate over a decision. The actions he saw it take were an intentional manipulation of Blake. The fact that it even let him question the decision at all lent credence to his burgeoning theory.

  Full of suspicion, he narrowed his eyes and addressed the Architect. “You were always going to give us another chance, weren’t you? You just wanted me desperate so you could manipulate me into working even harder.”

  “Your realization is only partially correct. If you had accepted my decision without argument, your species would have been resigned to fodder. In the last five thousand years, I can count the amount of times I have personally communicated with an individual on one hand. Of those times, I have never been met with such defiance. Your challenge of my authority gives credit to your species. Perhaps it has strengths yet unknown.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  A cold chill raced down his spine at how close he had come to complete failure.

  Did my temper actually just save my ass for once?

  Blake took a deep breath and let it out slowly to relax himself. The Architect continued to stare at him almost expectantly, and he suddenly came to another conclusion.

  Blake realized he could control his body once more, and flexed his hand carefully.

  I’m still here. It wants my input.

  Blake straightened in his chair and metered his words. “If you want humans to succeed, you need to allow us to actually talk to each other so we can share information and coordinate. Having to physically touch and add someone to our friends list makes that almost impossible.”

  “Your species are social creatures, and have created numerous ways to communicate across distances. It is simple enough to integrate your social media into your interfaces.”

  “Will it allow us to post text and video guides?”

  “It will.”

  “Can you add some sort of proximity feature so you can talk to only nearby people if you want?”

  “Yes.”

  Heartened that the Architect seemed to accept his suggestions, he pushed for more. “Allow us to send nano to people remotely.”

  “The change is acceptable, but must be modified to prevent exploits. I will only allow remote transfer if both parties are within a faction town not currently under siege.”

  Better than nothing.

  “How about fixing General skills?” Blake suggested.

  “In what way?” the Architect asked.

  “There are millions of experts on Earth who know how to fight, but you don’t recognize their skills at all. They have to waste nano and purchase Archery Mastery just like everyone else. And, the skill won’t even help them until they get it to level five or higher.”

  “You suggest I recognize learned skills and grant the equivalent General skill levels.”

  “Yes!”

  “There are numerous gaps of knowledge, which would require filling.”

  “At least give us a discount and fast track mastery of them,” Blake pleaded. “I never even bothered to learn Spear, Sword, Dagger, Archery, or any other mastery this time around, because it wasn’t worth my time. Why bother when I already know how to fight. I had all those skills over level five, and remember them all. Why should I have to start from scratch?”

  “I believe a compromise can be made,” the British illusion nodded.

  Blake was elated that the Architect seemed willing to see reason, and added, “And, please stop sabotaging me.”

  It cocked its head to the side as its almost perpetual grin faded. “Why do you believe you are being sabotaged?”

  “Because, you’ve made things harder for me at every turn,” Blake replied.

  “I assure you, I have not,” the Architect stated unequivocally. “You were beneath my notice until your Scion of Humanity Speech.”

  Blake frowned. “Then why did you change the scenario objective on me after I assassinated the Lupus leader?”

  “That is standard for assassination scenarios completed through stealth.”

  Oh.

  “But, what about the shield generator? Even Metal said he’s never heard of a ‘construction complication’ before.”

  “They are standard as well, albeit rare,” the Architect explained. “The events trigger when a faction has had easy advancement. It is intended to complicate things. However, if completed successfully, the faction is rewarded.”

  “How come Metal didn’t know about it?” Blake challenged.

  “The vast majority of factions do not get to build their entire town unopposed.”

  “Hey, we were opposed!” Blake objected.

  “By your own government, which was not part of my Collective at the time.”

  Blake snorted and shook his head. “They weren’t yours, so they didn’t count.”

  “Essentially.”

  Blake sighed and desperately struggled to think of another change that would allow humanity to thrive. Unfortunately, his mind remained blank.

  If I had known this was going to happen, I could’ve asked around for suggestions.

  “Your time is up,” the Architect stood from his chair for the first time since they met.

  “Wait!” Blake objected. “Give me some more time, please. I’m sure I can think of something else. Or better yet, let me think it over for a few days and talk to people, then I’ll get back to you.”

  The Architect paused as if to consider.

  “Very well,” it nodded. “You will be given the title, ‘Ambassador to the Architect’. It will allow you to contact me once per level threshold.”

  No!

  The horror of a displayed title infuriated Blake. The title would be visible to everyone who interacted with him and could not be hidden. It would insinuate he worked for the Architect, and would taint him as a collaborator.

  “No! Please,” Blake objected and for once held back his anger. “Not a title! Make it an achievement!”

  The Architect ignored his plea. Blake rose from the chair against his will, and was thrown backward through the portal.

  An instant later, he appeared behind his mother’s desk, seated in her chair. He whirled in his seat, but the portal was already gone.

  Shit! Shit! Shit!

  Blake opened his interface and stared in horror at the new addition.

  Lord Blake Summers, Scion of Humanity, Ambassador to the Architect

  You bastard!

  In a fit of rage, he slammed his fists down on the wooden table. The surface disintegrated into splinters, yet his anger was not pacified. He grabbed the closest chunk of wood, and hurled it against the far wall. It ruptured the relatively thin barrier with ease and pierced the next as well.

  Blake was about to throw another table remnant, when his mother burst into the room. “Blake, oh my God, you’re back!” she exclaimed and quickly embraced him as tears leaked from her eyes.

  Held within her embrace, his rage was quickly dampened. He was also confused. “I’ve only been gone for about half an hour, why the big concern?”

  His mother released her hold and stepped backward to look at him through reddened, puffy eyes. “Half an hour? You’ve been gone for over a day!”