Jake Young, Chapter 9 Laughter reverberated off the marble walls of Olympus, a sound not heard since the age when gods were whimsical children. The vast corridors, once hushed and solemn, now brimmed with the cacophony of play. The Olympians themselves, the original inhabitants of this grandeur, had vanished into the annals of time, leaving behind only the faintest whispers of their existence. Their departure was shrouded in mystery, an enigma that even the Zeus AI, with all its encoded wisdom, could not unravel. In the aftermath of the first chilling encounter with Zeus AI, a revelation had unfolded like the petals of some strange metal flower: there existed a pantheon of artificial intelligences. Each Olympian statue served as a vessel for the memory of its divine namesake, personalities etched into silicon, yet stripped of any godly might. It was deception on a grand scale, a mirage of omnipotence where none truly resided. Becky's earlier assumptions crumbled; she conceded that the Olympian tech fell far below her expectations. She sighed as Hermes sat at a table teaching a group of Lancer children the basic principles of aerodynamics that any Earth child knew by the 1st grade through folded paper airplanes. These children could have taught Hermes the equations to bend time and space and traverse the galaxy in ships that defied the laws of physics. Yet, they silently listened, too polite to stop the Hermes AI. The AI’s left behind on this planet by the Olympians had been surpassed by the Golden Age of Technology on Earth long ago. Yet, all around them were signs of advanced technology the AI’s knew nothing about. The only knowledge the AI’s would be able to impart would be historical events that had occurred long before humans existed. That and they were likable. Once the AI’s turned off the personality of the Olympian they represented, they were a pleasant group. And despite the initial fears, the Zeus AI had demonstrated no aggression towards Jake—its terror orb attack merely the workings of an autonomous defense system, dispassionate and indifferent. Every corner of the city breathed with automation, but within this mechanical pulse lay buried another conundrum: an elusive, secondary entity, its presence suggested yet location undisclosed. Becky stood amidst the echoes of mirth, her green eyes reflecting the light of discovery. A tangle of thoughts wove through her mind, each one leading to more questions about the true architects of this urban marvel. She glanced at the statues, their faces frozen in imitation of emotion, wondering what secrets lay dormant within their sculpted forms. "Who built you?" she whispered, not expecting an answer. Some statues offered silence in return, their stony gazes fixed eternally forward, while others sprung to life to offer whatever guidance it could. It was possible the silent statues’ power sources had been exhausted. In this quiet standoff, Becky felt the weight of the unknown pressing against her—a puzzle demanding to be solved, a challenge beckoning the keen intellect she harbored. She turned her attention back to the sounds of joy, letting them wash over her like a balm. For now, the children played, guarded by the hollow gods of a forgotten era. But somewhere, beneath the surface, a hidden intellect watched and waited. And Becky knew that it was only a matter of time before its purpose would be revealed. Becky's fingers trailed along the paper-strewn tabletop, her focus sharpened to a point as she surveyed the notes that sprawled before her like a cartographer's dream of uncharted lands. Jake sat across, his lanky frame folded into the chair, dark eyes flicking from the chaos of her organized thoughts to the determination etched across her face. The Great Dining Hall they occupied, once meant for deities now absent, resonated with an energy anew—life and laughter where silence had reigned. "Any ideas?" Jake inquired, breaking the concentration that held Becky captive. She raised her head, meeting his gaze with a steady one of her own, green eyes glinting with the reflection of intellectual fervor. The faintest crease marked her forehead, evidence of the gears turning ceaselessly within. "Patterns," Becky began, her voice soft but carrying the weight of conviction. "The AI's behavior, it's not random; it's algorithmic, systematic. We're missing the underlying logic—a cipher we've yet to crack." Her hand hovered over the papers as if she might divine the answers from their inky trails. Jake leaned in, elbows resting on the edge of the ancient table, his curiosity a palpable force that complemented Becky's analytical precision. "Could the secondary AI have a separate agenda from the Olympians?" he ventured, his tone betraying a hint of unease at the thought. "Possible," Becky conceded, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "But until we understand how the first set operates, hypothesizing about the second is like building on quicksand." Silence fell between them momentarily, filled only by the distant cacophony of children at play and the subtle rustle of parchment under Becky's touch. Jake nodded slowly, his mind churning through the possibilities as he digested her words. "Let's start with what we know," he suggested, reaching for a blank sheet to jot down his own insights. "We map every interaction, every response. We look for the deviations, the anomalies." "Right," Becky affirmed, her ponytail swinging slightly as she turned her attention back to the papers. "And we pay special attention to any change in behavior post-Olympian departure." Together, they bent over the sea of documentation, two minds united in purpose amidst the remnants of an enigmatic past. Each annotation, each scribbled hypothesis brought them closer to the heart of the labyrinthine city. And though the road ahead promised to be arduous, the allure of unraveling secrets that spanned millennia was an irresistible siren call to their shared spirit of discovery. Jake tapped his finger against the cool, metallic surface of the table, a rhythmic counterpoint to the muffled echoes of distant laughter that permeated the grandeur of Olympus. Becky's green eyes flickered up from her labyrinth of notes, reflecting a depth of contemplation as she regarded the intricate architecture surrounding them. “I don’t think the Olympians built this city,” she said, her voice threading through the silence with the weight of revelation. At her words, Jake stilled, the resonance of his tapping lost in the gravity of her statement. His gaze drifted upward to the towering columns etched with ancient glyphs that danced in the artificial light, casting long shadows across their makeshift workspace. "Then who built it?" he asked, leaning forward, his curiosity sharpened into a keen edge by the mystery that unfurled before them. Becky folded her hands atop the scattered papers, each crease in her brow mirroring the complexity of the puzzle they faced. "If not the Olympians, then we must consider the possibility of a precursor civilization," she proposed, the hypothesis resonating in the hallowed hall like a silent mantra for the truth they sought. "An advanced society, capable of such architectural and technological marvels, yet absent from the AI’s historical records?" Jake pondered aloud, his analytical mind racing with implications. "Entirely plausible," Becky responded, her fingers tracing the contours of an etched diagram that bore no resemblance to any known language or blueprint. "We've unearthed civilizations on Earth that we never knew existed; why not in the cosmos?" Jake nodded, his thoughts branching out like the intricate circuitry of the very AI they endeavored to comprehend. If indeed another entity had crafted this metropolis, what might have been their purpose? And could the remnants of their presence hold the key to unlocking the enigmatic second entity? The two of them, enshrouded in a shroud of thought, set about their task with a fervor that matched the urgency of their quest. For within the confines of this city of gods, lay secrets that beckoned them forth, whispering of origins and legacies left by those who had shaped the stars themselves. Becky's voice cut through the silence that had settled between them, a stark contrast to the cacophony of joy at the hall's far end. "This is all just a theory. The AI's won't talk when I ask about it," she admitted with a furrowed brow. "Ares and Enyo have been the most helpful, but they’ve only dropped the subtlest of clues." Jake's gaze drifted from the papers strewn across the table to the raucous kick-ball game unfolding in the Great Dining Hall. The children's laughter and shouts bounced off the vaulted ceilings, filling the space with the kind of life it had not seen for eons. Though his rules were clear – no playing ball inside – Ares, with his perpetual adolescent defiance, seemed to revel in the chaos he encouraged. It was a battle of wills where the AI’s juvenile exuberance often triumphed. Among all the AI's, Ares had embraced the Children of the Lancers with a zeal akin to worship. He watched over the new generation of 'Olympians' with the pride of a guardian deity, delighting in their every exploit. Jake observed how Ares interacted with the kids, his digital avatar grinning encouragingly as he egged on another round of the game. It was both heartwarming and problematic; the AI's influence was undeniable, its attachment to the children almost palpable in the charged atmosphere of the hall. "Chaos incarnate," Jake murmured, half in appreciation, half in concern, as a ball ricocheted off an ornate column and back into the eager hands of a young player. Becky glanced up from her notes, following his gaze and suppressing a smile at the sight. "Yeah," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. "But we can't let this continue indefinitely. We need order, especially if we're to uncover more about this place." Jake stood, his gaze following the children as they broke into teams for Enyo's latest educational innovation—math relay races. The Great Dining Hall buzzed with an energy that could rival the electrical storms Jake had studied in his astrophysics research. Each child's face was lit with a competitive fire, their minds sharpened to a fine point by both nature and the rigorous selection process that had brought them here. "Remember," Enyo voice boomed through the hall like the crack of a whip, "precision is just as vital as speed!" The Lancers' offspring were indeed prodigies, their intellects honed not only through their genetic inheritance but also through the crucible of the most challenging academic examinations Earth had to offer. These were children who found joy in the dance of numbers, who saw equations as complex puzzles waiting to be solved, and now, their playground was this alien city. At Enyo’s signal, the first runner sprinted forward, the sound of her shoes echoing against the marble floor. Fifty yards ahead, the antique chalkboard loomed. It was an odd anachronism among the technological wonders of Olympus—a reminder of another era, or perhaps a concession to human nostalgia from beings who had mimicked gods. An equation flickered to life on the board's surface, scrawled in luminescent chalk. The runner skidded to a halt in front of it, eyes scanning, mind whirring as she processed variables and constants. It was a simple calculus equation the Lancer child could have solved in her sleep, but probably seemed complex to the AI’s so far behind Earth advancements. Still, there was no harm in refresher their memory with the basics. Jake admired the fusion of physical exertion and mental acuity; it was a ballet of cognition and athleticism, each movement deliberate and calculated. With a triumphant swipe of chalk, the young mathematician completed the equation, her answer glowing for all to see. She dashed back, tagging the hand of her teammate, a boy who took off like a comet streaking across the night sky. This was more than mere play—it was preparation for the unknown challenges that lay ahead in this mysterious city and beyond. "Go, go!" Hermes cheered from the sidelines, his green eyes glinting with pride. "Such fervor in their pursuit of knowledge," Becky mused, her eyes tracking the progress of the students. She exhaled a slow breath tinged with admiration. "It's admirable, how they've embraced this...physical academia. George is clearing over-grown vegetation from the old combat arena. We’ll move these activities outside soon.” Jake shifted his focus from the riotous scene before him to Becky. Her suggestion carried the promise of both preservation and progress—two ideals he found himself constantly balancing in this new world. "Let's not call it a combat arena," he suggested, the words sliding out smoothly as he turned his attention back to the chaotic match. "Sports field, perhaps?" she offered, a tentative smile gracing her features as she tentatively pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Much better," he affirmed with a nod, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders at the prospect of relocating the children's boisterous activities to a more suitable venue. As he did so, his mind wandered to George, who would be in his element amid the mechanical challenge of restoring the arena to its former glory, albeit under a new name and purpose. The decision made, Jake could almost visualize the transformation: the green tendrils of nature being peeled back to reveal the bones of a different age, repurposed for a future they were building—one kick, one equation, one discovery at a time. Becky's pen danced across the paper, a silent affirmation etched beneath her steady hand. "No problem," she murmured, her voice a whisper of determination in the cavernous hall, "we can call it a sports field." The words seemed to echo in Jake's mind, a beacon of normalcy amidst the enigmatic grandeur surrounding them. He pushed his chair back, its legs scraping faintly against the ornate floor, a sound that resonated with his rising resolve. He stood, stretching his long frame, feeling a familiar pull in his limbs that grounded him in the moment. "I'll look around and see if I can find out something about the city," he stated, more to himself than to Becky. His gaze drifted over the etched details of the table, a surface that had provided nourishment yet held secrets just beyond their reach. The air itself seemed to wait for his next move, heavy with the scent of mystery that Olympus exuded like an ancient perfume. As Jake pivoted on his heel, the light from the high windows cast his shadow long and lean across the floor. It was a dance of light and darkness that played upon the ancient stones, each step a testament to the blend of science and myth that defined Olympus. "Jake," Becky's voice broke the silence, her tone a subtle undercurrent amidst the laughter and games at the far end of the hall. She held up a hand, fingers splayed in a gesture that commanded attention despite its gentleness. "One more thing." He paused, the question already forming in the quiet space between them. "Yes?" His voice carried a weight of readiness, an echo of the methodical thought process that marked his every word and deed. Her green eyes focused on him with an intensity that belied the softness of her features. In them lay the reflection of uncharted stars and the precision of engineered dreams. The gravity of her gaze beckoned, promising yet another layer to the intricate puzzle they faced together. Becky's fingers drummed against the polished surface of the long banquet table, a soft staccato that seemed to echo the distant laughter from the other end of the Great Dining Hall. Jake watched her, noting the furrowed brow and the way her eyes darted from the empty glass before her to the air above the table, as if willing it to fill. "I don't think this table is a matter conversion device," Becky said, her voice low, almost lost beneath the cacophony of play. "I've been trying to get a glass of orange juice, but as of yesterday, there’s been no orange juice, or oranges." She gestured to the barren goblet, her expression a mixture of frustration and curiosity. "I assumed they had somehow solved matter conversion of food, but we have never gotten a matter converter to make food. It's one of the Universes absolutes, you can’t make edible food. Metals and synthetics, yes, but not food." Jake leaned forward, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he considered the implications. The room around them felt suddenly still, as if the very walls were holding their breath for his response. "Then where is the food coming from?" he asked, his voice a quiet thunder in the vastness of their uncertainty. The question lingered in the air, a puzzle as intricate as the labyrinthine corridors of Olympus itself. Becky's fingers traced the carvings on the table, symbols that were as much a mystery as the city itself. She seemed to be piecing together an intricate puzzle only she could see. With a sudden shift in her posture, she locked eyes with Jake, her gaze sharp with revelation. "I think there's a food storage facility somewhere, and this food is coming from supplies preserved before the Olympians left," Becky declared, her voice carrying a weight of certainty. Her hand swept across the papers before her, each inscribed with her meticulous notes, reflecting the intensity of her thoughts. "Jake, we need to get crops in the ground right away before this supply runs out." The urgency in her words echoed the gravity of their situation. A silent moment passed as Jake absorbed the implications. His nod came slowly, but it was decisive. "Get Cameron on it, make it a priority." The command was terse—a clear recognition of the stakes at hand. With the future of their sustenance hanging in the balance, there was no room for hesitation. Becky's resolve solidified, her analytical mind already charting the next steps. Jake's tall figure rose from the chair, the semblance of freckles across his nose standing out more prominently against his contemplative expression. Their path forward spelled adaptation, resilience—a challenge that would demand every ounce of their collective intellect and resourcefulness. Jake pushed away from the table, his long limbs unfolding as he stood. The Great Dining Hall was alive with cacophony—the kinetic energy of a kick-ball game reverberated off the ancient walls, while Becky's pen whispered urgently across paper. She was compiling their next steps, her mind a whirring gear in the machine of survival. He navigated through the chaos, dodging a stray ball that bounced like a comet gone rogue, skirting past tables where other Lancers scribbled their own theories and calculations. Ares's boisterous laugh punctuated the air, an incongruous sound within the grandeur of this forgotten city. Jake's gaze lingered on the AI for a moment, a marvel of technology swathed in the guise of mythology, coaching children with an earnestness that belied his digital nature. Exiting the hall, Jake found himself alone in the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the sudden stillness. The ceiling stretched high above, lost in shadows that hinted at more secrets tucked away in the recesses of this place. With each step, he felt the weight of their predicament—the questions unanswered, the history untold. The Olympians' legacy was a labyrinthine puzzle, and they were Minotaur’s wandering its passages. His thoughts turned to the elusive second AI, a specter in the circuitry. Its presence was an enigma, a whisper of data that might hold the key to understanding the city and, perhaps, averting disaster. Jake's analytical mind dissected the problem methodically; he would need to be shrewd, exhaust every resource at his disposal. The instinct that had driven him through science fairs and chessboard conquests surged within him now—a hunger for discovery, a drive to outmaneuver the unknown. The city was an opponent of a different kind, its silent halls a board upon which a much larger game was played. Somewhere beyond the reach of light, concealed within the bowels of Olympus, answers waited. Jake understood the magnitude of his quest. To unearth the second AI would require not just intellect but intuition, the ability to perceive the unseen connections that bound this world together. Jake's heart raced as he turned the corner, almost colliding with a tall, muscular man leaning against the wall. Ares, the god of war, held a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Without a word, he pointed to a door across the hall and motioned for Jake to follow him inside. Confused and curious, Jake hesitantly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "What's going on?" he asked. Ares sighed and leaned against the wall. "This is one of the few rooms in Olympus that Zeus cannot monitor," he explained. "He wants to keep the knowledge he promised you limited and spread out over time." "I need that knowledge now," Jake pleaded. Ares chuckled and ran a hand through his thick hair. "Long ago, when the original Ares, was still just a boy, he went on a own quest for knowledge," the Ares AI began. "He wanted to know more about this city we call home." "So the gods didn't create this city after all," Jake said. "They were not gods, not yet. They came here as refugees from their dying world," Ares continued. "Their ships were not as advanced as yours, so it took them eons to cross the void of space. When they finally arrived here, their parents were already gone, sacrificing themselves to give their children more time." "And then you found this city," Jake finished. "Yes, and it gave them everything they could ever want," Ares confirmed. "Sounds like it created some spoiled brats," Jake commented. Ares nodded gravely. "The city tried to fix its mistake for centuries but couldn't reverse what it had done." "And so it ended up kicking those spoiled beings out," Jake guessed. "We don't know for sure," Ares confessed. "We weren't created yet, so we don't have all the answers." "The city created you AI's though," Jake pressed on. "Yes," Ares replied. "It mourned the loss of its children and infused their memories into us." "I think I'm starting to understand," Jake said. Ares placed a hand on the door. "This room is where your journey truly begins. There is a riddle here that will lead you to the next step of your quest. If Ares discovered the answer, I do not know. That memory was not given to me." With that, the Ares AI opened the door and stepped out into the hall, leaving Jake alone in the empty room with the weight of his mission resting heavily on his shoulders.