Interlude: Nollow

Edwick had only been working his shift for a quarter turn when he spots a janissary, one of the helmsman's household servant-soldiers, moving towards his farm. Through the eyes of his drones in the eastern fields, he watches the enormous man trudging through purple and gold fields of grain. Even from a great distance, Edwick cannot mistake the silhouette of the three meter tall giant encased in gleaming white armor from head to foot, with his massive, wide-brimmed helmet and his red and gold poncho. He carries a massive wooden scepter in his left hand, its carved head resting across the back of his shoulders.

Edwick sends his nearest drone to greet the noble lord. As the drone gets closer, he sees that the janissary's sluggish pace is the result of his futile attempts to spare the crops from being crushed underfoot. Wincing, Edwick's drone gestures the janissary towards the nearby service road. The big man nods, plodding through another couple points on the farm's harvest report.

"How far to this farm's control center?" the janissary asks. His voice sounds like scraping metal. Is the helmet doing that? Edwick asks himself. Or does this man's body produce that awful sound naturally? He's obviously a custom job, people don't just get that big naturally.

The Edwick-drone holds up two fingers pointed up, then closes its fist, reopens it, now with three fingers pointing to the left.

"What's that? Twenty eight decams? Walk with me, my little mute friend," the large man says, then he laughs. The laugh sounds like steel beams being threshed apart. Just perfect, Edwick thinks, from the control center, more lost efficiency, more points off the harvest. The road only comes here, he can't possibly get lost. Nevertheless, he sets the drone walking beside the great lump of flesh and steel, which has increased its pace once reaching the road, moving at a trot that feels reckless to Edwick, given the enormous size of the man. His drone needs to step up to a light jog just to keep up.

"You know," the gigantic janissary starts, "the writings of the philosopher-monk Nollow posit that the bonds between people are more important than individual minds. A friendship or a marriage as its own kind of person, its end a kind of death. Nollowist thought carefully categorizes and analyzes societies of all kinds and sizes, from the multigalactic empire down to a three coworker lunch. You could spend a century reading the scholarship on Nollowist thinking about meals and you wouldn't be through breakfast.

"Traveling companions, there's another topic for a Nollowist deep dive. I wonder what the scholars would have to say about us?" The janissary turns his head towards the drone. Edwick turns to look up. The helmet covers the lower half of the man's face with plate, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. The pattern on the plate gives the appearance of a huge grin. I don't know what any monks or scholars would say about you, or anything else. Why are you here? I've made quota on my last five harvests. I don't need this interruption. His drone simply shrugs.

"Perhaps they would say that you're an abomination." Edwick's self back at the control center freezes, but he manages to keep the drone jogging along. "The way you use the mesh technology to control these artificial bodies, it's a corruption of true human relationships, an evil imitation of a community of people working together. It could be argued." This bastard is toying with me, Edwick tries to believe.

"Not by me, of course. I'm not a Nollowist monk. Nor am I a cultist looking for god in the stars. I serve the helmsman. The helmsman serves everyone on the ship." They're within sight of the farm's control center now. "Sometimes that means making hard decisions. Sometimes, the decisions aren't so hard." They have arrived at the foot of the control center, a simple tower, four silver cubes stacked on each other, with an antenna.

"It's time, Edwick. Crew change." The janissary plants his scepter into the ground, placing both hands on top of it. The drone standing next to him, along with all the other seventy-odd drones working around the farm, collapses to the ground. A moment later, Edwick emerges from a door in the tower. He wears the same work skirts as the drones, and a copper band wrapped around his head.

"It's not fair! I've made quota five harvests straight! Why me?"

"You've barely made quota, Edwick. Others have done better. Much better, using fewer resources. Displeasing fewer religious minorities. Maybe the helmsman will find some other use for you someday. Right now? You aren't worth keeping around."

Possessed by desperation or madness, Edwick activates his mesh, reaching out to the drone that had accompanied the janissary, along with three others he had brought and hid behind the control tower. With no long term thought in mind, Edwick sent all four flailing wildly towards the giant, trying to grab his arms, his legs, hold him down, while he ran out through the fields.

The giant man is fast. He grabs the scepter and crushes the first drone's arm with it. The second drone uses the opening to jump up and grab onto his arm. He kicks his giant leg out, catching the third drone in the chest, knocking it onto its back, winded. The fourth grabs his other leg. The giant roars, bringing his free hand down to knock the drone off, then brings the hand around to crush the drone still on his other arm. He looks up to see which direction Edwick went, and then launches himself into a thunderous sprint.

Edwick has only a few seconds lead, half of which he squanders by looking back. He spends the remainder changing direction to get out of the way as the massive armored man plows into the space he had just dodged out of. He's insanely fast, Edwick observes, just before the scepter makes contact with his skull.