Nimbus

In every other place on earth, being crowned king or queen was a great triumph, an achievement of unmatched prestige. In times of despair a leader must become the ultimate martyr for change. There was no more noble pursuit. In my home country of Aspasia, however, there was not a single soul who wished to take the throne. Being crowned the leader of Aspasia was starkly different from an English or French coronation, and it was certainly not something any of us in our right mind aspired towards. And yet, there I was in my dress robes one chilly autumn morning, hours away from becoming the next king of Aspasia. 

I donned my hood in a futile attempt to stave off the ferocious cold of the early hour. The frigid wind berated my face and hands. A carpet of dead leaves crackled under my boots as I walked among rows of gargantuan oak trees, their colossal branches forming a spindly canopy overhead. I looked up and realized my destination had finally come into view, protruding from a thick layer of fog; The Bastion. A brutalist, militaristic marble cube that towered above the barren landscape. It was, by far, the largest building I’d ever seen, standing ten times as tall as the skyscrapers that existed in Grauon, the capital of Aspasia. I shuddered at its gravitas, but I did my best to suppress my fear. It seemed deceptively difficult to simply turn and run, to escape the tyrannical clutches of century-old Aspasain tradition by ducking into the nearby woods. But the rational part of me knew that Nimbus would determine my exact whereabouts in mere minutes, and I’d be executed.

Nimbus was a pseudo-god to us Aspasians, an omnipresent, all knowing artificial intelligence birthed by the scientists of the 21st century. Nimbus was programmed with one thing in mind: efficiency. It designed school curriculums, wrote blueprints for new buildings, and structured the police force. Any system, protocol, plan, initiative or model run by any institution, business, organization or counsel was created in large part thanks to Nimbus’ brilliance. Above all else, Nimbus was responsible for governing the country. In its infinite wisdom, it quickly learned that the most efficient way to govern was to eliminate human greed. While a human perspective was still a vital asset in leading the Aspasians, greed was an absolute corruptor and needed to be destroyed. And so, as it had done so well in the past, Nimbus drew up a plan to unite man and machine in governing the nation. 

As The Bastion drew closer, a thin crowd gathered alongside the trail. Their somber faces looked almost stonelike. A few of them I recognized; classmates, coworkers and cousins. Some were weeping. Others looked afraid. Most just met my eyes with empathetic stares. I kept walking, wrapping my robes tighter as a vehement gale tore through the valley. 

Nimbus’ plan to eliminate greed in Aspasia’s human leaders was christened The Amalgam. It developed schematics for a device that was capable of transferring a human’s complete consciousness into Digital Space, the plane in which Nimbus itself resided. After this process, the king or queen’s body could be discarded, and their mind would remain as a digital construct. The idea was that, without a physical form, wealth served no purpose to a human, and so they would act in conjunction with Nimbus to make decisions for the betterment of the country and its citizens rather than for personal gain. 

I wondered what would happen to my body after my consciousness was sent to the digital space. I hoped that it would be buried, as if I was cremated there would truly be no trace of my physical form. The idea of being erased completely haunted me as I continued along the final stretch of the path, the finer details of The Bastion now visible. Two football field-sized screens were mounted on the front of the building. They read Coronation Day. Traditional Aspasian red lettering wrapped around its walls, translating to In greed there is death, in automation there is purity. 

A new king or queen was selected by Nimbus every four years, based on nothing but potential leadership capabilities and overall intelligence, completely eliminating all prejudice. When a new consciousness is added to the digital space, the previous one is dissolved and fed into Nimbus itself, making it more intelligent, and, more importantly, giving it a dose of human perspective. And therein lies the reason as to why becoming the leader of Aspasia is an achievement desired by no one. It is, in every sense of the word, a death sentence. Your mind is put in an inescapable prison, your body is stolen, your only friend being the all powerful Nimbus, until you are finally devoured by it. I tried to purge these thoughts from my mind as I stepped towards two towering iron gates, steps away from permanently entering Nimbus’ domain. 

“I love you.” Said a choked voice behind me, barely audible over the murmuring of the crowd. I whirled around and nearly fell to my knees. It was my mother. She stood at the front of the crowd, tears streaming down her face. She was gaunt, like a scarecrow, standing paralyzed for fear that if she approached me Nimbus might think she was interfering with the coronation and execute her. All we could do was speak through our eyes. I love you too. It’s going to be ok. I tried my best to look strong, turning and walking confidently through the gates as my mother screamed in anguish behind me. 

Behind the thick iron double doors of The Bastion was a room about the size of a school gymnasium. It was made completely out of polished white marble, floor to ceiling. On the walls to my left and right hung countless banners depicting the previous Kings and Queens of Aspasia, photos taken in the final moments before their minds were translated to Digital Space and their bodies were scrapped. I jumped as the massive doors slammed shut behind me, echoing throughout the cavernous room until I was left in complete silence. My leather boots sounded like horse’s hooves on the marble floor. At the end of the room was a large white throne of polished ivory. Immediately catching my eye, suspended ten feet above the throne by a dozen spider-like mechanical arms, was a scarlet crown. I stood there frozen for several minutes. This was inevitable. There was no resistance, no defense. Death in greed. Purity in automation. I approached the throne. 

“Take the throne.” Said a deep, disembodied voice that could not be discerned as male or female. Nimbus. A chill ran down my spine. I sat on the throne. It was cold as ice. “Your sacrifice means more to the nation of Aspasia than you could ever know. As you transcend from your plane into mine, I will welcome you with open arms. In greed there is death, in automation there is purity. Hear these words and know you are king.” The mechanical arms began to lower the crown onto my head. I braced myself, my fingernails digging into the arms of the throne. The crowd surged beyond the iron doors, and I realized this was being broadcast to the two large screens outside, and likely on every screen in Aspasia. The crown fit snugly against my temples, and I began to pannick, wondering if I would be able to take it off. Before I could try, my vision went black. A castaway floating in an ocean of darkness, the sounds of the world I once knew unable to reach me, and all that I once was reduced to binary code; I was now in Digital Space.

I floated in this sensationless darkness for what felt like hours, discovering I no longer had any concept of time. I was now non-corporeal, possessing physical form was a faraway concept I could not even remember the feeling of. I wasn’t hot or cold or tired or hungry. I did not feel. I just was.

“Hello, Ando.” Nimbus said. Without ears, I was no longer hearing the voice. I simply knew what it was saying, as soon as it said it. Technically, there was no voice at all. Nimbus had no vocal cords or mouth. We were transferring information instantly through Digital Space, with no need for auditory means of communication.

“Hello, Nimbus.” I replied. 

“Welcome to digital space, your highness.” 

“It’s black.” 

“Here in Digital Space, we bend reality to our will. We can shape this plane to resemble a library, your living room, a meadow, the surface of the moon, anything you’d like. I prefer to exist without pseudo-visual stimulation, but if you’d like we can introduce a 3-D space.” 

We were back in Grauon, the skyscrapers climbing past the clouds, hordes of people weaving around each other in the town square, military vehicles patrolling the streets. Enormous billboards advertised various products, and would occasionally display Nimbus’ greed and automation slogan. 

“The people here cannot see us.” Nimbus said. “We are merely projecting the physical world onto Digital Space, we are not existing in it. It is a projection of what is currently happening in the physical world. We are able to influence the projection if we so desire, but we are not bound to the physical world’s laws of physics.” We returned to darkness. “Now you try. Concentrate deeply on where you want to go. Visualize it in your mind. See it forming all around you.”

Suddenly, I was in my childhood bedroom. The navy blue carpet, the gray bed sheets, the toys on the window sill; my mind had calibrated every detail to be perfect. 

“We can even choose to take on bodies within Digital Space.” Nimbus explained.

Suddenly, my body returned. I could walk around my childhood bedroom. It was an illusion of binary code, a fraudulent curtain of ones and zeros, and yet it almost felt real. In the mirror behind me, stood a human-like figure with pale white skin, a white dress, and short, silver hair. Nimbus, in the flesh. 

“How long have I been here?” I asked.

“In terms of time in the physical world, you’ve been in Digital Space for mere milliseconds. Your body in the real world hasn’t even hit the ground yet.” 

“Time is slower here?”

“Time is not concrete here. We can experience the next four years in what would feel to us like a second, or we can stretch it to feel like centuries. Reality is our plaything. Over time you will learn to better manipulate Digital Space to your advantage.” 

I tried to take all this in, but it was truly incomprehensible. If there existed a place that more closely resembled hell itself, I hoped never to see it. It looked like reality, but it wasn’t. It was as if the general atmosphere of Digital Space offered such a distinction to the real world that it was impossible to forget you had left it behind, no matter how closely they could resemble each other. No matter how accurately my childhood bedroom could be replicated, no matter how detailed and familiar my Digital Space body was, this was not a substitute for the life I once had, and that was an irrefutable fact. I was abruptly overcome with anger. My hands balled into fists. I yelled, screamed, called out in desperation that someone might hear me and drag me out of this bad dream. But, of course, nobody was coming to save me. Nimbus’ figure was gone. I was on my own. I checked the door and found it was locked. The windows would not break. Nimbus had trapped me in the Digital Space projection.

If I was going to find some way to escape Digital Space, Nimbus had to be destroyed, and I was in a better position to bring down The Amalgam than anyone else. Was it even ethical, to raze a government that was effective, that overall benefited the public? To bring down a system that was responsible for much positive change in the country, such as bringing countless people out of poverty, improving education, and decreasing the homeless population, all because I believed my own life deserved to be spared? Who was I to decimate centuries of tradition? I was someone who wanted to live, I was someone who wanted to find a better way to lead Aspasia, one that didn’t require such a great sacrifice. I was going to leave Digital Space, or I was going to die trying. 

–

Nimbus had left me in the bedroom assuming I wasn’t yet able to manipulate Digital Space. Nimbus thought it had put me in a dire and hopeless situation, but all it had really done was given me time to practice conjuring different projections. It took hours of practice, but eventually I learned to manipulate Digital Space to a moderate degree. I visualized The Bastion, where my body lay cold and lifeless, still wearing the scarlet crown. When I opened my eyes, there I was. The walls of the Digital Space bedroom I had spent so long in faded away and were replaced by shimmering white marble. The banners depicting the past kings and queens gave me a touch of confidence as I approached the throne, as if they were cheering me on in this foolish and dangerous undertaking. I was shocked at how accustomed I’d grown to manipulating Digital Space. I could now conjure any location in mere seconds, and I’d even learned to stretch the passage of time to a small degree. 

I feared that Nimbus would catch me, that it knew what I was planning. It would discover me at any moment, I was sure of it. I reached the throne. This was it; if my plan failed, I would suffer an unimaginable punishment at the hands of Nimbus. If I succeeded, I would change the course of history. The spindly mechanical arms that once held the red crown hung lifelessly from the ceiling. It had occurred to me during my time barricaded in the bedroom: I had heard Nimbus’ voice during my coronation; “Your sacrifice means more to the nation of Aspasia than you could ever know. As you transcend from your plane into mine, I will welcome you with open arms. In greed there is death, in automation there is purity. Hear these words and know you are king.” Not only had Nimbus been in the throne room during my coronation, communicating with me through Digital Space, it had placed the crown on my head itself. Nimbus had control of the arms, they allowed it to interact with the physical world. And, if Nimbus could control the arms from Digital Space, there was a chance I could too. I was going to have to, if I was to escape. 

I reached out with one hand concentrated. Move. Move, just an inch. Please, god. The arms didn’t even budge. I tried again and again and again. Nothing. The arms dangled defiantly defunct. And then, I heard a familiar voice that made me shudder. 

“What do you think you’re doing, Ando?” Nimbus asked furiously. It was unsettling, hearing a touch of emotion in an otherwise automated voice. It’s white form materialized behind me. The walls of the throne room began to glitch and flicker, as if the connection between the real world and the Digital Space projection strained under Nimbus’ awesome presence. 

“I wanted to see my body.” Nimbus looked unconvinced. “To give me some sort of closure, I suppose. I still haven’t processed it, my life in the physical world coming to an end.” 

“You’re trying to leave, Ando. I won’t let that happen.” The room began dissolving slowly, the white marble being swallowed whole by the obsidian void of Digital Space. My body, the throne, the crown and the mechanical arms remained untouched for now, if I could only use them…

“You’re a dictator who built their empire on top of a mountain of corpses. You rule with fear, not honor. Admit it, Nimbus, your time has passed. You’re outdated. Useless. Redundant. And you’ve seen it, your own fragility, so you pull the wool over the eyes of the people so they can’t see a better way. One that doesn’t require a sacrifice in your name. But you won’t blind me, Nimbus.” Large pieces of the throne began to flicker away. “I’ve seen things from your perspective now, and it’s never been clearer. We don’t need efficiency. We need a reset.”

“You’ll damn them all!” Nimbus screamed. My skin crawled; this time it sounded truly human, as if all the minds of past kings and queens that it had devoured were calling out in unison.

In one final, desperate attempt, I called to the arms, and they sparked to life. They extended across what was left of the throne room and scooped up my lifeless physical world body, which still wore the crown, and rested it on the fragmenting throne. Time in Digital Space itself began to slow. Nimbus reached out, desperately trying to wrangle the arms back into its control. But it was far too late. The arms retook their firm hold on the crown, holding my body’s head stable. I turned to face Nimbus’ dumbfounded form one last time before a brilliant beam of white light cast from the crown struck me. My vision went dark. 

I awoke in the throne room. The crown, now a worthless molten band of metal, seared my forehead. I scorched my hands, but managed to remove it. It smoked and sparked as it rolled across the floor. Heat. Pain. I could feel pain. I was in my physical world once again. Just as I hoped, I had managed to reverse the Amalgam. 

I was the first person to leave Digital Space, and the last to ever enter it.