Instead of continuing practicing ULE tug-of-war the next day, I was singled out and handed off to Potatocannon. As I expected from her, we spent the majority of the time messing around, going overboard, and barely fixing our mistakes before things got really out of hand.

 

Despite that, I was able to get a handle on my new toys. Polybenzimidazole and polyamide-imide were much like my cyanoacrylate in that they came out as liquids of varying viscosity, and with the addition of my magic polymerized into a network of fibers or a plastic-y lump respectively. I could definitely tell there were some lingering magical shenanigans going on from the canister as the amount of solvent they were in should have been way past saturation by a ridiculous degree- not that I was complaining.

 

Next, the nitroglycerin was like a more relaxed ClF3: it would also go from calm to explosive at the smallest suggestion that I wanted a boom, but wouldn’t require constant micromanaging to keep stable. Predictably, it was also much better at just doing the exploding thing, meaning I wouldn’t need to jerry-rig silane into being my non-scorched-earthed payload anymore- although being a gas still made it useful when I needed action quickly. Or for starting a fire without also incinerating everything nearby.

 

If I wanted a stronger firestarter that would also not create a miasma of highly toxic… everything, I had thermite. Due to being a powder, the canister was a little different from the rest. It looked mostly the same, but instead of a bunch of nozzles, there was just one wider opening where the mixture could pour out of.  

 

Making use of it was more complicated because thermite is actually really hard to set off- to the point that I had to use a small primer of chlorine trifluoride for it to do anything. However, once it was going, it felt like a bottomless pit I could keep shoveling ULE into to make it burn hotter and hotter. It also really didn’t like being stopped early, something we learned when I accidentally added a new pothole to a parking lot.

 

All the fun and chaos worked as a great distraction to help me forget about the activities of yesterday, but when I got back to my apartment, Cleo broke the illusion by requesting we go to my [warehouse] for a chat about what they found from the demon.

 

{Well, I will start with the good news: it is not as bad as it could have been. I’ll get back to what that means, however, the other information will be good context. Instead of being a singular demon, this was a colony of four with very specialized purposes. The provisional names for each are: Infiltrator Support Cloak, IS-Foot, IS-Scryer, and IS-Arm. The Foot and Arm are fairly normal, with the first being ULE storage and movement for the colony and the latter being the one to fulfill the colony’s purpose- whatever that happens to be.}

My anxiety started to rise as a somewhat worried tone edged into their voice, {the cloak is an extremely advanced but niche demon, with its only purpose being to teleport any energy it encounters from one side of it to the other- effectively making it unable to interact with ULE. Of larger concern is that this is the first time such a feat of bioengineering has been recorded. In over universes there have been demons who could achieve similar effects, but only under much more specific environmental conditions.

{The scryer is similar, also being highly specialized. It is only able to detect the presence of large amounts of ULE, like those given off by MGs. Normally, abilities like these two would only appear in overall much more advanced demons like the humanoid one you encountered, but by being physiologically incapable of almost anything except the specific effects, something like this becomes possible.}

 

I took a moment to process their explanation, slowly nodding. “So by grouping into a colony, the demon was able to do two extremely advanced things while not needing to be particularly advanced itself?”

 

{Yes.}

 

“Why does that matter?”

 

{Ah, yes. Similar to our own reality-altering abilities, the number and complexity of demons is limited by universal pushback at both the Breach and the magic needed to sustain infeasible biologies. Smaller demons are typically less able to resist these forces and die, however more advanced demons are more capable of bullying the universe into letting them exist}

 

Not quite sure I even wanted to know the answer, I followed up by asking, “so assuming the demon was able to properly leverage its near undetectability, what would it do?”

 

{Deep brain and nerve scans. Essentially creating a map of what each part of an individual’s brain did and how those signals travel and affect their body. It would then bring this information back to wherever it came from where an unconfirmed, theoretical entity or process would use the information for designing more demons or improving existing templates.}

 

Now fighting off steadily rising existential terror, I reluctantly asked another question, “...and what is the worst-case scenario for its purpose?”

 

{Infecting a target with an infiltrator specially tailored to them- based on information a demon like this one provided. Such demons would have so far unseen levels of control and influence on the target.}

 

Knowing I would regret it, I whispered, “what are the symptoms of an infection?”

 

{In increasing complexity of the infiltrator demon: Rapid emotional swings- either towards violence or apathy- alteration of mood or perception towards people or ideas, overriding of muscle control, and so-far only theoretical: complete replacement with a mimic.}

 

I sat for what my internal clock said was only three minutes, but felt like an hour- struggling to process what the hell was going on. 

 

Interrupting my not-thinking, Cleo hesitantly spoke up again, voice full of regret. {I’m afraid it gets worse. This isn’t a particularly new issue, however, previous iterations of infiltrators were incapable of sustaining a Breach like other types of demons; if my hypothesis is correct, that limitation would no longer exist for demons creating using these scans.}

 

At some point the shock and revulsion had become too much and I felt numb and listless. “Can MGs get infected- are we priority targets due to our natural ULE accumulation?”

 

{Like how you need to drink water but can drown, these new demons are not able to handle the levels you and your friends hold. The delicate processes required to integrate with a target would get overwhelmed… And there is not enough data to conclude how a pre-existing infection would react to its host contracting with a Semiseelie…}

 

It didn’t take an english teacher microdosing on shrooms to pick up on the subtext of that statement. Luckily, at this point I was so utterly out of emotional energy to feel much of anything, so I took the bait. “Who is- or are- the test subjects being used to test the reaction? You wouldn’t say something like that without it being someone important to me.”

 

Talking with a tone of disgusted resignation, Cleo responded, {...currently there are no MGs with the theoretical newest strain of infiltrator, and likely will never be due to the risks. However, there are three active MGs affected by one of the first, much more primitive versions.

{All have shown a few consistent traits before and after contracting: at least a small amount of aversion to the idea of becoming an MG, general dislike of those in positions of power or laws they create, unexplained episodes of sudden violence or cruelty, chronic health issues, low self-worth, and a significantly deeper connection to ULE than a MG of their level- wherever that is- should have.

Moving to sit on my head, they switched from telepathy to a gentle whisper, {...I would have told you sooner had the models up to this point not shown a… quick self-destructive reaction to the information.}

 

I knew myself pretty well- or at least I thought I did up to this point- so it came as no surprise that at any earlier point I would have tried to rid the world of my detestable existence. The problem with doing such a thing now was that I was the only one who knew of the very real, immediate, and woefully insidious threat that was looming.

 

Apparently not having got the message thinking was off limits for the time being, the fragment of my mind hosted in silicone brought my attention to the forgotten document containing a list of the perks I had taken- somehow now updated properly.

 

Weapon proficiencies applicable to extremely general categories of objects easily carried without question. A few gave me the ability to blend into any social environment I would encounter. My new form was born from a suite of them designed to exploit and repurpose the networks everyone relied on. And most recently I acquired an impossibly hidden, unbreachable, easily accessible place to hide.

 

“How long has this been planned? Has every one of my choices been guided so that this could happen?”

 

{There was never an overarching plan, only the possibility that you could be amenable to dealing with this issue.}

 

Despite being so emotionally exhausted, a little flame of anger sparked up for a brief moment. “ ‘This issue?’ You mean the impending conversion of a bunch of innocent people into hosts for demons to make stopping their invasion all but impossible? And by ‘dealing with it,’ you mean killing everyone that gets infected?”

 

After a lengthy pause, Cleo went completely slack and depressedly explained, {Simply put yes. If you wanted to be more cynical, you could say I’m asking you to ruthlessly hunt down potentially hundreds of people- innocent besides the fact they are unwittingly a keystone in the ability of the demons to consume the entire world in a massive Breach.

{At this point, we have no idea how many and how deep the infection goes. There’s currently no easy way to identify who is infected, although that’s now a very high priority. Even worse, the fragility and complexity of your brains likely makes the only currently feasible ‘cure’ death.

{The situation is to the point that I’d prefer if you would let me remove any memory of anything relating to this, so you can just live as normal and peaceful life as you can without worrying about this.}

 

It was my turn to let go of my body and mutter, “if it's not me, someone would need to do it… and I’d rather sacrifice myself than make someone else dirty their hands over my cowardice…”

 

Concerned, my Semiseelie quickly asserted, {that’s not a healthy way to think about it, the ability to do something does not necessitate oblig-}

 

“I’m too tired right now. Give me some time to think about it, although I don't think my mind will change. The confluence of irony is just too perfect for the story turn out any different.”