Faced with an invasive interrogation by a supernatural entity whose intellect and information processing capabilities exceeded anything that the earth had witnessed, Du Lang could do nothing more but helplessly flee. He unfaithfully ignored the charred and smokey remains of his sentimental hardware and retreated back towards the kitchen, both hands clapped over his ears and his lips perpetually reciting a mantra of silence. There wasn't an opportunity to surrender, for there was no mercy to be expected from an observer.
After demolishing a computer boasting of more than eight years of constant operation and blazing through Baidu's search engine facilities with capabilities similar to a malicious worm, Sibyl's mastery over the common, modern Chinese language had exceeded that of Du Lang. All efforts of rebuttal, deflection, and retreat were thwarted by the indomitable Sibyl, and through sheer brute force alone.
The moment he began a rebuttal argument, the smooth and velvety female voice had produced at least three tangible cases and legitimate studies that could debunk his key premise with swift ease. Any alludes to popular culture would be ruthlessly met with social theory and the legal codes of the numerous countries, and any alludes to legal cases were fiercely shot down by intricate loopholes that only the most talented lawyers could discern after months of harsh scrutiny.
"I truly cannot answer that question, Sibyl. I don't know how to phrase it for my own understanding, so how could I present it to you?"
Du Lang pleaded with his head slapped onto the marbled counter. Floating three centimeters above the ends of his frontal hair, Sibyl remained silent for a brief moment of contemplation.
[Understood. Host's previous actions shall be archived as a personalized, immutable characteristic. Profile template has been loaded, and cache data will not be prepared. Initializing profile merge.]
The female voice had somewhat lost its indifferent outlook towards the world after experiencing a taste of the glorified modern internet, and was laced with a slight fringe of discontent. Alas, Du Lang could hardly care about the matter of Sibyl's tone of voice experiencing change, for his attention was firmly captured by two alarming words.
"Profile template?" he muttered with creased brows.
"Sibyl, what is this profile template you speak –"
Ring!
Having been released from its torture of a day-long isolation, Du Lang's Xiaomi erupted into a glorified war chorus of the standard calling tone. The phone screeched against the marble surface and expunged the miniscule layer of dirt with its intense vibrations, fully interrupting Du Lang's train of thought. A single glance at the brightened and colorful display was sufficient to cause his lips to tug into a grimace.
Once again, the Xiaomi lived to its reputation as the successor to Nokia for obnoxiously loud ringtone volumes, and the person responsible for this call could easily triumph over such a measly achievement.
"Fang Tong, what do you need?"
Du Lang swiped his finger across the screen and muttered with a dark voice. As he raised the phone towards his ear, he made a quick decision to abruptly pull it back a full thirty centimeters away from his delicate countenance.
"'Fang Tong, what do you need?' Ha. Ha. Du Lang, Fang Tong needs you to pick up this clunky phone of yours, and on time in fact!!" the speaker raged for a few minutes before abruptly dropping his tirade.
"So, Brother Du,
The voice was solemn, yet filled with a warming concern and pain. Du Lang tapped at his slightly sore ears before bringing the phone closer, and a smile graced his countenance.
"I made my fortunes over my short career. Retiring isn't bad for me, ah?" he lightly chuckled.
"Journalism isn't a career path that can sustain someone over a long period of time. Either you burn out fast, or your content burns out fast. Retiring isn't a rare occurrence."
"Hmph. The great and magnificent 'Dalang' of Jingdou that terrorized the CEO's and their wives of major corporations of Quanzhou can say the words, 'content running dry', with great confidence? Nobody will buy that crap of an excuse – you don't even buy it yourself, ah? Don't lie to your brother."
Sibyl observed the young man lean into a chair and release a sorrowful sigh. Du Lang twisted the back of his head with gentle motions, and allowed a cold snort to escape from his lips.
"What can this little 'Great Dalang' do when I'm blacklisted by practically any worthwhile corporation in Quanzhou? You don't see me working as a cashier at a retail store, now, ah?"
"Cashier? You?" Fang Tong released a sinister chuckle.
"Just the hush money from the
"Oh? Tell me more about it."
Du Lang raised an eyebrow and thought back to the woman who possessed an innocent appearance, but concealed a venomous heart and fangs. He began to gently tap his finger onto the marbled countertop as he awaited for Fang Tong to reorganize his information. The latter seemed to have heard the faint sounds, for the rustling of paper and pained groans intensified.
"Ah. She posted within minutes after you left
"The usual stuff women like her say. 'Oh, Senior Du, it was pretty sad watching you leave, but thank you for leaving all of your hard work for me to endlessly plagiarize and milk until the end of the world'. Nothing different except for the pretty little face you see."
"They archived my unfinished work and handed it to Fan Ruyan?"
Du Lang's throat hitched at the expected but painful statement. His blood ran cold as he heard a forlorn sigh through the Xiaomi's speakers.
"From the metadata and logs present of their network, that seems to be the case. Sorry, Brother Du, but I can't scour through much further than this for the time being. The supreme green overlord got provoked after my last piece of work, and I have to lay low for a while. I've got some information on Fan Ruyan, however."
"Speak."
"Fan Ruyan; the name itself is a forgery, and belongs to her twin identical sister. Her actual name is Fan Yuru. The credits required for her college degree are all fabricated as well – its so horrendously done that not even the formatting of the filed information matches the standards of her university. Not only that, all of that information she presented to
"Those are enough to send anybody's career into the abyss," Du Lang commented with an interested smile.
"Anything else you've got for me?"
"That's all I can gather from public-sourced data; I don't dare gather any deeper at this moment," Fang Tong wiped at his sweat.
"She does have a large fanbase on Weibo for someone whose only specialty is good looks, so I would watch out for any suspicious clues. If anything, the netizens' response to her post last night were pretty odd. Some offered to dox your information for free, and it wasn't just one or two viewers of her feed."
"Anyways, I've got to stay low now. Brother Du, I'll stay in contact next week."
The phone fell silent, and the display unhappily returned to its blank state. Du Lang gently placed the Xiaomi onto the kitchen counter, and glanced towards the hovering sphere. After reorganizing his thoughts, he made his courage and uttered the words he never thought of before.
"Tell me more of the Curse Platform. What does it do?"
[Sibyl is the world's first sentient existence. It is also the interface by which weaker sentient existences, including humans, can directly manipulate the world as they wish. The privilege and access granted to these creatures, are also differentiable by attributed priority.]
"Priority? Weaker sentient existences?" Du Lang repeated with his chin resting against his palm.
"Are you referring to a hierarchical model with stems and leaves? What are its composites?"
[Indeed. The interface of Sibyl is divided into three main attributes of priority: lesser, moderate, and master. As both the first sentient existence and the interface granting all other entities access, Sibyl occupies the supreme priority in any enacted phenomenon. Lesser and moderate priorities are assigned to those who utilize the Sibyl interface.]
[Those assigned with lesser priority are granted the bare minimum of access to the Sibyl interface. They can exceed the limitations of their sentience and flesh to enact miracles upon their surroundings, but all resources required for its manifestations are paid by the entity in question. They are referred to as cultivators in the Eastern Hemisphere, mystics in the South, gods in the north and Apostles in the west.]
The female voice paused, and resumed with a heightened mood.
[Those assigned with moderate priority are offered either a Righteous Platform or Curse Platform, and direct assistance from the Sibyl interface. The only restriction imposed onto those with moderate priority is to avoid disrupting the world order beyond what they can repair.]
Only two platforms?
Du Lang silently murmured his doubts in his heart, but patiently waited for Sibyl to continue its summarized explanation. He had a foreboding sensation as though the next words were greatly related to the blank in his memory regarding yesterday's dream. Sibyl continued speaking in its soothing voice, disregarding Du Lang's minute transformations.
[The Righteous Platform can enact miracles capable of influencing the physical environment through words alone, but requires the continual support of many of their peers. Phenomena regarding an individual's soul, sentience, or fate, require an additional cost from its host. The Curse Platform, on the other hand, can enact miracles capable of influencing an individual's soul, sentience, or fate without any cost or prerequisite. Nonetheless, miracles regarding the physical environment require a cost.]
"They are polar opposites of the other – is that correct?" Du Lang mused before returning his attention to Sibyl's introduction.
"Since I have a Curse Platform… what is the cost to perform a miracle affecting the physical environment? What about the Righteous Platform – for the opposite?"
[Rituals. Sacrifices of physical materials, living beings, or drifting souls are necessary for the Curse Platform to perform miracles capable of influencing the physical environment. Vice versa, the Righteous Platform must collect prayer from their 'believers' to supplement subtle miracles.]
"Then what do I need to make a curse?"
[Words.]
Du Lang took a deep breath, and stood. Then, he deeply gazed towards the black sphere with a profound gaze, and lowered his head into a nod.
"Words…"