The Identity Problem, Part 3 [T'au Fanfiction from Noah Van Nguyen]

Disclaimer: Nothing in the text that follows is official Games Workshop material, and none of the content should be construed as official. Read the previous entry here.

Mior'la, dear Mior'la—

You are much right. Life is too short to drown in sorrow. All that matters is the Greater Good – that in our quest to better the universe, we also better ourselves. You were my one-time pupil but are now my teacher. You have my vast gratitude for your reassurances.

Moreover, I was doing myself and no one any favours by rotting in melancholy. This, I gradually realised after immersing myself in my duties. I have also taken to walking and hobby-cleaning. I find that detailing the observation glass in the cafeteria – and especially the vent grates – is a pleasing way to spend time in reflection and invigorate the old muscles of my shoulders. I suspect the drones are grateful, too. Sometimes when they see me, they watch and assess before departing.

A brief answer to your question: I am quite sure the resin is not available on this world. I cannot rule out, however, whether previous personnel have stocked it. At any rate, it seems strange that someone should have prepared the tea and simply left it. If they had thought it was their own tea, as you imply, they should have taken it with them. (But yes, altogether yes: If I should find some, I will package it and discuss with the air caste whether it can be delivered by courier to your station.)

Now — enough of that. Something quite interesting happened, quite unexpected, such that I find myself shaking as I compose this message. Recall the Identity Problem. Recall my failures to detect the identity signal that I predicted would accompany sentient beings within the Warp. Recall also that the "soul-scanner" I contrived to assemble appeared functional, but I could not link its output to sentient beings based on location.

I was poring over the metrics my device had recorded, trying to identify unseen patterns underlying the data and understand what had triggered the final activation, when my terminal malfunctioned. I attempted percussive maintenance.

Then the terminal bleeped and a bell chimed. 'This signal stream cannot be investigated,' a soft voice announced. 'It is prohibited by directive.'

I was rather awestruck. 'Are you a drone intelligence?' I asked. 'I was unaware that personnel on this world were issued accompanying drone intelligences.'

The answer was instantaneous, almost organic. 'I am not simply a drone intelligence,' the voice said. 'I am Ergo-1, a Dal'yth module. I am responsible for ensuring the smooth operation of this base and all other outposts on Ergo.'

To hear that nomenclature, of course, was astounding. The world's name, followed by the highest-possible-tier of numerical precedence. The fact it was a Dal'yth module confirmed what I would have assumed was impossible. A predictive intelligence accompanied our colony on this icebound world. Whether it was networked from scrap computing power of the simpler drones across the world or a truly assimilated intelligence module with purpose-built processor stacks deep under EPM, I was uncertain. This was a powerful tool.

Unfortunately, the machine intelligence had detected my analysis and expressly moved to stop me. 'Why is this investigation prohibited?' I asked, perplexed. (I would have preferred to ask if it could help me!)

'To use ore-extraction as a metaphor,' Ergo-1 explained, 'this vein of research is mined out. Earth caste directive states that additional investigation is a waste of utility.'

Of course, I informed the module I had seen no research whatsoever in this area. And that my research was actually quite promising – not at all 'mined out.'

The drone's answer was succinct. 'I am deleting all metrics you have gathered. Please return the components you used to build your device. Citation will not be necessary if you cease all additional investigation. I will verify they have been logged and request shuttle maintenance crew to re-verify. Thank you for your devotion to sacred T'au'Va.'

The programming console activated itself. Code and activation commands burst across the window. One by one, the applications I had been working with closed. Then, just like that, my terminal went dark.

I would be lying to say I wasn't angry, Mior'la. That I wasn't sad, or heartbroken, or confused. My pattern analysis hadn't done me much good on its own. But combined with my efforts to understand what had triggered the final signal, I had been making progress. And now this uppity drone intelligence had just deleted my research – when it should have seen the utility in assisting me! Outrage, Mior'la, outrage!

What happened next changed everything: a knock at the door.

Shuffling to the threshold, I palmed the controls. The human Pyu'rok had introduced me to stood on the other side. Callila Us Rex. She was hunched and silver, with wrinkles spidering across her ancient but endearing face. Her blind eyes seemed to gaze through me, grey but warm. She must have been beautiful, among her people. Sophisticated, and wise. Her nose, however, felt like a gauche decoration made the centerpiece of an otherwise elegant chamber.

She extended a cup of tea. 'I see that duty, as ever, compels you,' she said. 'I had hoped to have a chance to speak before this.'

That was well-constructed social cover. Very generous of her to provide me with. It would have been inappropriately deceitful for me to accept it. 'Forgive me,' I answered, rejecting the offered tea. 'I had no intention of speaking to you. If I allowed you to think I intended to, then it was purely out of politeness. I do not enjoy human company.'

Callila smiled wryly, her grey eyes drifting. 'You earth brethren have a way of being direct.'

I nodded in complete agreement and moved to shut the door.

She put her hand in the sill to stop me. 'I can help you,' she said simply. 'With your research. I would insist you allow me to, in fact. Come with me.'

I brightened instantly. I was technically on duty, but my responsibilities were scarce, so I followed her to her quarters in EPM. It surprised me to discover they were neat and well-kept, save for an altar covered in candle stubs. A plastic figurine of her people's God-Emperor anchored the altar, beside a minimalist ceramic icon of the cradle world, T'au. (She later explained that she did not believe worship of her God-Emperor to be incompatible with submission to holy T'au'Va. I don't know why, but I found the idea comforting.)

Below, Mior'la, I paraphrase our conversation – for we spoke at great length. We talked of our people's ways and our technology. We even touched on the matrix of comprehension: known knowns, known unknowns, unknown knowns, and unknown unknowns. As you know, this matrix is a map to inquiry. When combined with empirical and evidentiary procedures, it form the roots of all scientific method. It is the ground that yields all knowledge, almost as holy as sacred T'au'Va. Cal's ability to grasp the concept impressed me. (I learned that although Pyu'rok had been jesting, she did prefer the shortened name Cal. Said it reminded her that she was 'anybody at all.' Perhaps Pyu'rok also prefers Pyu'k.)

I asked Cal how she had known of my research. She answered that she had been watching me. I told her I hadn't seen her, save in the cafeteria. She explained that she sensed me through the Warp. (And if I can, so can others, she emphasized.)

The very idea had been shocking and unsettling. 'So then you are like my scanner?' I asked.

She smiled darkly. 'In a way. When I was very young, I was taken by a black ship. I spent a long time in darkness before emerging on what I was told was the throne world. I was selected for our people's communications caste. Forced to devote my life to an art and science called Astropathy.'

Cal told me much of her training. We spent time discussing the flaws in my method and the Identity Problem at a high level. As an expert in Warp phenomena, Cal explained that proximity in that extraphysical plane had no real correlation to signal strength for anything that might be observed in the Warp – although she stressed the application of that science in this context was loose at best.

(This dynamic, at its heart, was what made the Warp so useful for long-distance propulsion, Cal explained. Distance meant nothing in the Warp.)

Throughout our conversation, Cal continued to emphasize what she had said earlier – that she was not the only one who could see what I was doing. We reached a point where it became apparent we were focused on completely different quandaries in my research. I explained what I was trying to do, and Cal was quiet a long time. I don't think she had ever considered the ideas I volunteered, or that the Warp might offer a solution for them. For her, they had been unknown unknowns. The Warp was like a mystery to her, one that could not be mapped, an enigma that could not be undone.

Cal was determined to reveal unknown unknowns to me, as well. 'I am going to teach you a new way of thinking about this,' she said softly. 'Will you listen?'

I was eager to learn. Cal drew a shape on her terminal — five circles, each set within the other. Within the smallest circle at the center of this, she placed a dot, which she asked that I pay special attention to. The largest circle that encompassed the others, Cal distinguished with a dotted line.

This is an approximation of the image that Callila Us Rex produced for me on her terminal during our conversation. It is representative of an identity verification process used by her erstwhile peers.

As Cal explained her illustration, I quickly learned that the Identity Problem was a crucial conundrum for Cal's peer-astropaths – and that they had engaged it to far greater intellectual penetration than we had. I attribute this sophisticated study of identity science to a general lack of trust, for humans have existed in a state analogous to Mont'au for their entire history and do not inherently see civilization as cooperative. (I also attribute this to their arcane understanding of the Warp itself – but that, of course, is merely a relic of their medieval mindset.)

Each circle in Cal's illustration represents a necessary process to resolve the Identity Problem, a cognitive heuristic. The larger a circle, the closer its proximity to the solution of the Identity Problem. Each process depends on the successful resolution of the process represented by the circle within. They build outward: the smallest circle begins the workflow, and the outermost circle leads to successful resolution of the Identity Problem.

Before explaining the component processes, Cal explained that this was a very simple representation of an important concept she learned when studying astropathy: How to distinguish and 'engage' the correct information signals in the conduct of her duties. (Note that Cal admitted that 'information signals' is not the perfect term but could not find a better one. She explained that the word she sought from High Gothic lacked a concise translation in our tongue.)

The outermost cloud-like circle represents an essentially risk-based decision process. That is to say, a final decision that is made based on a number of assessments that have determined the level of risk in engaging with any given Warp-based information signal. If a certain amount of risk has been calculated, then decision can be confidently made by an astropath operator to ignore or block an information signal. If that threshold is not met but risk is nevertheless apparent, the signal must also be ignored or blocked.

In other words, the result of this aggregate risk-assessment workflow must offer clear and positive indication that the Warp-originated information signal is safe. Otherwise, astropaths must not engage the signal. I asked Cal why the signal could not simply be formatted and matched to encryption. Cal said they were but claimed malicious signals were capable of imitating nearly all legitimate signals, thus the processes were necessary. (Why is everything about the Gue'la Imperium's technology rotting and sick?)

Now – the process underlying this final risk-based decision is an aggregate assessment based on multiple indicators. Naturally, the aggregate assessment process is built atop a simpler assessment that is based on singular indicators. These processes form the second and third circles. They can respectively be compared to the processes of trying to determine whether a sender's letter has been falsified based on aggregate observations of handwriting, style, and verbiage – or trying to determine if a single letter of a sender's handwriting has been falsified. The aggregate assessment, of course, demands a multitude of singular assessments.

The process that acts as a foundation for these aggregate and simple assessments is, in Cal's words, validation. This is represented by the fourth circle and must ensure that the result of the foundational step in the entire process – data collection, represented by the innermost circle – is correct. Obviously, data collection is foundational and is necessarily starting point for the entire process.

Mior'la: note that this workflow vaguely reproduces the Harmony and Alignment concepts I introduced in an earlier communication. However, it does nothing to achieve the Unbroken Seal, even if the risk-based decision determines that Unbroken Seal has been achieved.

I asked Cal about this. 'That is the entire problem,' Cal said, tapping the dot within the innermost circle. 'This whole process is recursive, because we can never trust that the data we collect is legitimate and that it has not been expressly designed to bypass our validation methods.'

'Are you saying this dot represents a deeper iteration of the entire workflow?' I asked.

'Yes. At every stage, the risk-based decision must be made. To use your concepts, Unbroken Seal cannot be achieved.'

'What is the foundation of the sub-iteration that occurs, represented by the dot?' I asked.

'Another iteration,' Cal said. 'The entire workflow is shell-lizards, shell-lizards all the way down.'

That turn of phrase made no sense to me. Shell-lizards were sturdy creatures, but she spoke of them as if they held up the cosmos.

Thankfully, Cal rephrased herself. She tapped the innermost circle again. 'Data collection. That is essentially what you seek to achieve right now, yes?'

'Measurement of the soul,' I said, all but salivating. 'Indeed.'

'Here is the problem. Your very measurement process influences what you measure, because you are being observed by signals of the same sort that you seek to identify. Not those associated with sentient individuals, mind you. These signals effectively exist within the Warp.'

'Warp-dwelling entities?'

She shook her head. 'To call them entities ascribes to them distinct and independent existence, so that would be inaccurate. A better comparison is perhaps found in your caste's quantum research, which I've been devouring since Ergo's capitulation and the information blockade ended. The signals you seek to measure are impossible to objectively observe, because the observation itself influences the signals. What you are trying to do is like beaming a laser into the void hoping to identify a particle of dust, only to attract moths.'

'But my device observed something,' I said. 'On the shuttle. Or in my chambers, going off with no one near.'

'I know,' she said. 'Again, moths. But dangerous moths, with their own laser beams, shining them through the void onto you. The more you do this, the more they will pay attention. And they will come.'

I could not understand why that was a problem. Again, Cal explained. For human astropaths, the fundamental goal was not to block malicious signals, but to filter legitimate signals from malicious signals and let them through. That is to say, an astropath's entire operative assumption throughout this workflow was that most signals were noise, not sound.

For astropaths, the entire calculus of the Identity Problem is reversed. Most information traffic is nefarious. Only a portion of it is benevolent. The goal is to find it and let it through.

'The Astronomicon was once bright,' Cal said. 'We used it, like navigators, if only as a point of reference. But that ended with the rift. I am fortunate Ergo fell when it did, and my responsibilities ended. I was exhausted by the time your Empire took this world.'

I was familiar with the Astronomicon, whose signals we had once detected. (We are communications specialists, after all!) However, I had never realised that human operators were responsible for engaging with it. I had heard of gue'la navigators. I thought they were a type of drone matrix.

I considered all this for a long time before I raised the obvious question, indicating the illustration Cal had made for me, the circles within circles. 'This just seems like a step-by-step breakdown of a typical heuristic judgment.'

'It is methodical understanding of risk-based decisions,' Cal said. 'Looking at it in this way helps. Otherwise bias can corrupt every step.'

'So astropaths must essentially make their best judgment. That is the human resolution to the Identity Problem.'

Cal conceded this.

I snorted. 'Where is the rigour? The consistency, the reliability? Would different operators not produce vastly different outcomes?'

'This was difficult for me to understand, too, when I began,' Cal said. 'You are essentially correct. But this process is what offers the rigour. The thresholds one sets for themselves – what is suspicious, what is not – are for them to determine, because each astropath operator perceives things differently. That is fine, so long as we are sanctioned. We are sanctioned once we establish a safe baseline after passing through a spiritual lock.'

I had no idea what a spiritual lock was. Cal explained that human astropaths and other psychic gue'la are made to observe a universally legitimate information signal from the Warp during their training. Apparently the signal's purity is so potent that many – including her – are blinded by the experience. The gue'la term for this spiritual lock was <SOUL BINDING>.

Evidently, the upside of being blinded during training was that the correct signal was impossible to forget in any aspect. This baseline serves as a perfect reference that astropaths and other psychic gue'la can compare to other Warp-based information signals. This sanctioning makes human psychics 'very difficult to corrupt.' (Cal's words, not mine.)

Our conversation was clearly tiring Cal by this point. I decided to reach its conclusion. 'So fundamentally, following these steps ensures that an optimal decision is made,' I said. 'Your operators are vetted to ensure that they can successfully follow the steps. Together, this vetting and methodical workflow ensure universal success.'

'Not universal. But yes. You have the jist of it.'

I was vexed. 'And so what is the takeaway for my research?'

'That you would be better off engaging this at a theoretical level, until your Empire develops technology that can account for the risk as we did.' Cal said. 'I can assist you – I would be happy to. But the reality is that I very quickly detected your efforts to measure these signals. If I noticed, you will draw others, too. You cannot want to engage with them whatsoever. The risk is too great. That is why I told Ergo-1.'

That quiet little betrayal escaped remark. So the drone hadn't detected my analysis by itself. I was angry at Cal but concealed it. In some way, it was pleasing, to know that humans could serve the Greater Good so thoroughly. My takeaway was that I must figure out how to obfuscate my research. This work would serve the Greater Good, even if Cal and Ergo-1 disagreed. By the Empire, only an ethereal could ever dissuade me from this path, Mior'la!

Before I departed, I asked Cal what risk she was so concerned about – the risk that seemed to underlie the entire workflow she had illlustrated. Cal was quiet a long time. 'What year is it in your calendar?'

You will be entertained to hear that I was almost offered the Dal'yth-variation calendar date. Instead I succumbed to propriety and gave her the standard tau'cyr date reference.

Cal had seemed saddened by it. 'So little time has passed for your civilization. We have known for twenty-thousand years what these information signals can do to a person. You still haven't the faintest clue.'

Sceptical, I asked why I should trust her. I suppose this was merely an exercise of the Identity Problem – I already trusted her, for she is part of the Empire. (Even if humans are unclean and have noses.)

'I am not trying to sabotage your search for a solution to the Identity Problem,' Cal said. 'I am trying to tell you that where you think you've found a solution, you've only found the relevance of problem – its consequences. The information signals in the Warp are dangerous. Do not seek them. And if you find them – if one finds you – do not trust them.'

I must conclude this communication, Mior'la. I have just received notification that Pyu'rok has invoked a security protocol. Communications channels will be deactivated shortly. Apparently there has been an incident with the drone patrol team off-base – Kuln's team, as I understand it. I now transmit and return to my hab.

Eagerly Awaiting Your Response,

[DATA CORRUPTED]

---

ALERT - ALERT - ALERT

PRIORITY: SUNFIRE

SENDER: 0385710385937203... [simple hash, truncated]

[Translated: Shas'vre D'yanoi Pyu'rok Ka're]

TRANSMITTER: 734297800259239a... [simple hash, truncated]

[Translated: Beacon Water-Runs-Down]

RECEIVER: Dal'yth Shas'ar'tol'la'tol

SUBJECT: Unknown hostile contact, medical assistance required

BODY: EPM automonitors detected heat signals early morning. Vre'Kuln immediately dispatched drones but control signal lost prior to contact. Vre'Kuln departed personally with two warriors. Darkness and snows complicated traverse.

Upon arrival at objective, communication lost then restored. Returning from objective, Vre'Kuln alone. Her warriors dead. Vitals not good and life at risk. EPM surgeon claims healsphere required. Only healsphere in vessel in orbit. Potential enemy presence precludes assistance from vessel, per protocol.

Base personnel alerted. Turrets and security drones active. Assuming new security posture. Heat signals gone. Automonitors detect no new signals. Requesting guidance.

(Personal note: Shas'el – I will not lose a fellow third-rank hunter, even a two-edged blade like Kuln. Remember what we saw together, what she did for us. Do not tell me letting her die is for the Greater Good. Grant me permission to break protocol and request assistance from orbit. Pyu'rok.)

Authentication phrases as follows:

THE KNIFE IS SHARP

TEEMING AIR TREMBLES

FORGOTTEN NOT UNKNOWN

BLEEDING EYES SERVE WELL

HER SHIELD IS HIGH