Chapter 22.3: Remembering Metrica

“Which way to the Metrica gate?"

Jinkke paused, thinking about the question. Obviously she knew where the Metrica gate was, but that knowledge got hung up behind a long series of other thoughts, memories, and feelings all triggered by the mention of that name, Metrica.

It had only been minutes since she and Minkus had parted ways, and her brother obviously remained the centerpoint in her mind, but that name, that place, it seemed to resonate everything she already thought and felt. They'd grown up there, she and Minkus. In a little cluster of labs and residences on the eastern edge of Soren Draa, they'd spent so much of their lives, as progeny, apprentices, and siblings. Simply the mention of it conjured the scents of overheating conduit lines and apple desserts, the wet heat of tropical summer nights, and rowdy games of skelk-skelk-ooze beside the loch. Yes, that last one should have lost its charm much earlier in her life than it did, but Minkus had loved it so vehemently that they played it long into their adolescence. When Minkus laughed, it had always been impossible for Jinkke not to. Even now she felt the corners of her mouth rising at the thought of him tagging the local progeny and running away frantically.

Her smile didn't last, though. How could it? When she knew, deep down, how far from a smile Minkus must have been at that very moment, how could it?

“Which way to the Metrica gate?” Ventyr repeated.

Jinkke shook herself present again, looking up at the sylvari and neutralizing her expression as best she could. He inspected her as they walked ahead toward the Creator's Commons. “Yes, Metrica,” she began, but before she could continue, something hit her in the chest.

“Hey,” a tinny voice complained. “Would you mind watching where you're going?”

Jinkke stepped back in shock, looking down at the person she'd just walked into. The female stood just up to her chin, but the self-possession in this asura’s bright, angular eyes belied an age and composure beyond Jinkke's. Beside her stood a fair-haired norn female, gazing down at the two with a bemused grin. Each was clothed simply, and each was armed.

Jinkke bowed, her hands up in apology. “Forgive me! I was consumed in thought.”

“Yes, I could tell.” The other stepped back, brushing down her light coat. “I recommend keeping your eyes up, or this is unlikely to be a unique event.”

The norn snickered, nudging her companion with the toe of her boot. “Keep this up, and I'll continue to be your only friend.” With a wink she shifted her gaze to Jinkke. “Amber can be cranky before her breakfast. She tries to be asura, but inside she's really norn.”

“Oh, stop it with that,” the asura snorted.

“I'll stop it when it stops being true. Now let these people pass already so we can be on our way. Do you want to eat this side of the gate or the other today?”

Nodding, the two strangers slipped by toward the gate Ventyr, Jinkke, and Yissa had just come through. “Oh, and by the way,” the norn called back at them, pointing, “the gate you want, the one to Metrica, it’s just past the College of Statics, the one there with the big hourglass. That way.”

Ventyr nodded, and the norm gestured her farewell. Jinkke and get companions continued their course as well.

“Is the norn correct?” Ventyr asked, his gaze steadily ahead.

“Yes,” Jinkke affirmed with an unseen nod. “Just as she said, follow the road past the College of Statics to its end at the southeast corner of the Creator's Commons. It's right there at the next gate hub. I can guide you there.”

“Are you sure?” The sylvari asked. “We know the direction. There's no need to inconvenience yourself.”

Jinkke shook her head. “It’s no inconvenience. It isn’t much farther from there to my lab. And, at the moment, I would welcome the fresh air.” Her own words have her pause. Fresh air? Sunshine? Those were a surface-dweller’s concept of beauty, not an asura’s. That too, she recognized with a wince, was her brother’s influence.

The sylvari on one side and the scholar on the other, she walked on, only aware enough of her surroundings to keep from running into anyone else. Her mind was on Dynamics, on cheating, on honor, on holding her family together, on opportunities taken—on anything and everything that orbited Minkus. Before she realized it, they were passing the College of Statics.

The sylvari looked up at the enormous purple insignia that graced the face of Statics’ main entrance. “This is the college with ‘the big hourglass,’ I presume?”

“Indeed it is,” Yissa said, finally entering the conversation as she took a look at it herself. “The College of Statics. I appreciate their philosophy, always have, but I was never able to support their curmudgeonly ways when it comes to technological advancement.” She mused silently for a moment, nodding her head to herself. “Yes, many of the worlds’ most impressive artifacts are indeed remnants of eras and geniuses gone by, I suppose. Just take the mursaat, for example. My ears. Phasing themselves out of our physical reality—if my theory holds true, of course? That is an ancient but unparalleled mystery that I cannot overstate the world-altering importance of. If we could only harness that and other monumental accomplishments of the past, as Statics staff and alumni are so predisposed to do, our continued advancement would be all but certain. However, the linchpin in my personal scientific philosophy is in that: continued advancement. That, if I may be so bold—which of course I will—is where the Statics fanatics fall so absurdly short. If you’re doing work as diligently as they do to understand and replicate the constructive acumen of dwarves and the ancient forerunners of asura architecture—which everyone knows are two of the college’s primary pursuits as a whole—well, what sensible reason is there not to take that knowledge and apply it to modern problems with the modern set of tools that Dynamics is so obsessed with creating? Of course, at the same time, the Dynamics dolts who ignore the vast store of wisdom we have in our past are equally worthy of ridicule, as obsessed with developing what comes next add they are. Alchemy! Anyone with half a wit will attest that there is a sensible meeting that must exist between the two extremes if any true and lasting progress is to be—”

“So you must have studied at Synergetics,” Jinkke interrupted, tracking where the outspoken scholar was headed. Even in her distraction, she couldn't let the yammering continue.

“Yes I was,” Yissa affirmed with sudden pride. “Third in my commencement group, in fact.”

Jinkke just nodded.

“You are currently a student of Synergetics, correct?” Yissa asked after a short pause. She suddenly carried on, more to herself than her companions, “Except, you’re not simply a student of Synergetics, as you made it quite clear that you have also attended Dynamics with your fiercely attractive bro—” The words fell off her lips even as they started. Her mind seemed to have caught up with her overactive mouth.

Jinkke flashed a cold glance at Yissa. Awkwardly, the scholar took to twirling her braid around one finger.

“So,” she began again, more cautiously this time, “is this your second attempt at a Rata Sum commencement? I understand the success rate of second-attempt students increases by 17%, generally due to a greater degree of shame-based commitment after having failed once.” Beyond the scholar, Jinkke saw Ventyr roll his eyes before he could regain his stony composure.

“That is the current estimate,” Jinkke agreed, nodding stiffly, “primarily because the majority of second-time students are pursuing a second commencement, not a second attempt at a first commencement.”

“My miscalculation!” Yissa blurted. Her steps stuttered as she threw her hands. “You have my apologies, and my respect, as you must be very newly into your second pursuit. It is a highly honorable thing to begin afresh after fully completing another education. The years will pass before you know it.”

Jinkke shook her head. The presumptive nerve of this scholar. “The years already have passed,” she rebutted. “I'm nearly four years into my studies at Synergetics.”

Yissa pursed her lips, squinting one eye in thought as the three passed the far end of the College of Statics. “If you’re that far into your second scholastic achievement,” she thought out loud, “and your brother left Maguuma little more than three years ago— did you and your brother commence from Dynamics in the same group?”

Jinkke took a moment before replying. She searched the Priory scholar’s face for anything resembling guile, but Yissa only appeared surprised. “We did,” Jinkke affirmed.

“You and your older brother?”

Jinkke nodded, rolling up her sleeves nervously. “Yes.”

“Your only older sibling?”

Jinkke fidgeted another moment. She felt like her brother so often looked when he tugged at that ear. “Yes.”

With that, the embarrassment Jinkke was starting to feel flushed across Yissa’s face also. “Oh,” she began, clearly unsure where to go next. “I— why, I have older siblings as well. I was the penultimate of my parents’ four progeny. That's quite a large family for asura,” she added, turning to Ventyr before continuing. “The two before me set an extraordinarily high bar in each of their respective fields, and of course I've always been very grateful for it. So— I— well I—” her words fell off again. It was only somewhat surprising to Jinkke that the talkative scholar was unable to find words now. The thing that surprised her was the hand Yissa extended to her shoulder.

“Do not mistake this for condoning your choices,” Yissa said, letting her hand rest there a moment, “That stunning specimen of a brother you have was devastated by your intellectually dishonest decisions—it was across his face as broadly as the sharp teeth in that perfect smile of his. And I'm sure the Dynamics administration and your parents were and are no less offended. However, I do, at the same time, grasp what would drive someone to such a repulsive course of action. I— am sorry— that you found yourself in a quandary so troublesome that deceit seemed the optimal way of escape. many have done as bad and worse for the honor of family—also things I certainly can't condone.” Their eyes meet for a moment, before Yissa let her hand fall away.

Still moving through the Commons, though now at more of a risen amble than a purposeful walk, Jinkke looked past the other asura and onto the sylvari beyond. He stared ahead, appearing to ignore all that transpired between them, but Jinkke could tell his ears were burning confusedly. In truth, she didn't care that he didn't understand. She did, and so apparently did Yissa: it was all about family honor. She set her eyes back ahead, recognizing they’d reached the gates.

“There,” Jinkke said, changing the subject with a nod. “That's the gate to Metrica.”

Unlike the Lion’s Arch hub, Rata Sum's gates were divided into three smaller hubs at the outside corners of the upper deck of the city. At the edge of an immaculately healthy lawn stood three gates, identical to the one they'd stepped out of on the other side of the city and perched right at the very edges of the city's megastructure. If for any reason the gates malfunctioned, a passing traveler stepping through would simply walk off the side of Rata Sum instead of walking into Metrica. It was something Minkus had observed and begun to be wary of the day they'd moved into the city. It had always been strange, the things her older brother would rightfully recognize as senseless when no one else did.

She stopped walking and crossed her arms, paying attention once more to the others beside her. “I've never charted it personally, so I can't offer you numbers, but when you arrive in Metrica, it's still quite a distance from Soren Draa to the Wildlands.”

“113 miles just to reach the region's border,” Yissa piped in.”I studied the map data extensively before our departure from the Priory. Had I been given a more accurate target location than just ‘Duststruck Moors,’ I could have zeroed in on a precise distance to our ultimate destination. As it is, though, the sergeant here will just have to be content with the rough estimate of 18 to 25 miles beyond the border, and probably several miles of combing the terrain for clues of our beloved, sadly imploded construct,” Yissa looked back at the sylvari. “I feel like such an imbecile giving you such patently hypothesized figures, but I can't be called into sole accountability where no accurate data is provided. On our next adventure, please issue a more exact destination—for my peace of mind, if not your own.”

The sylvari sighed lightly. “If I can help it, Scholar, there will be no next adventure. And as for the matter of searching for clues, I believe I told you that we will have more than enough jade to prove the creature’s existence when we reach the haven at Artergon.”

“Oh, Sergeant, there's that plucky optimism of yours,” Yissa mocked playfully. “while I do look forward studying this mammoth pile of physical evidence, I also hope you realize we have a one-in-five chance of this adventure immediately spawning a secondary quest—things statistically have a way of suddenly, and by no doing of our own, going awry. And then, of course, adventuring studies indicate there's a one-in-eight chance of any second adventure spontaneously triggering a third.” She and Jinkke both watched his unchanging expression. “You didn't realize that? My ears, the average Vigil assignment must be a very boring ordeal, or your post-assignment research practices are quite lacking.”

“We prefer to call it efficiency.”

Yissa shrugged. “We all use the terms that make us feel competent.” Light steps took her ever closer to their gate, with Ventyr following closely and Jinkke slowly falling away behind them.

Ventyr turned back to her. “Jinkke, you have my gratitude for your help the last several days.” His face tightened ever so slightly, as did his grip on his staff. “And, for my part, I'm sorry for what's happened along the way. It should never have been.”

She nodded. “You can’t reasonably be blamed, Sergeant. But, I appreciate your sentiment. Alchemy’s fortune.”

“Farewell.”

The other asura flashed a rapid wave back at Jinkke before Ventyr could catch up with her, and the two pressed on to the gate. Standing there for a moment, Jinkke watched them pay their fare to the technician and step up the ramp and through the gate to Metrica.

Metrica. If she’d wanted to, she could have walked to the edge of the gate’s courtyard and stared down at the province from miles above, just making out the town center of Soren Draa and its surrounding labs, all nestled beneath the edges of thick jungle treelines and pressed up against Loch Jezt. She didn’t want to, not today, but remembering the number of times Minkus had insisted on seeing it in their years at Dynamics, the image of the region was etched near permanently in her mind. No, instead of stepping up for that view, Jinkke stood there in the hot sunlight, suddenly aware of the morning throng of the great flying city of Rata Sum: the most brilliant minds and hardworking hands in all of Tyria. Still, Metrica was all she could think of. Minkus was all she could think of.

She turned toward the College of Synergetics.

Rounding the corner and momentarily heading back north to the entrance of the college, she found herself still fixated on home, on the days when their parents still lived in the region. How many years had it been? Eight? Eight and a half? The seasons of spring and summer had a way of blending together in the Tarnished Coast. It had been just before she and Minkus had gone off to Dynamics; just after she’d made her arrangement with the administration. Her arrangement. The thought suddenly made her sick.

Frowning miserably, she passed through the Synergetics main entrance and on toward the door at the rear of the exhibit hall that led down to the lower levels. Everything was exactly as she, Onn, and Drixxi had left it when their transmat maintenance had begun ten days before: countless students on the upper deck working on various non-essential projects that looked nice but made no serious advancement. They babbled to each other in the technical jargon they were learning for instructors who simply wanted to keep them busy while pursuing their own projects. The krewes doing the real work were hidden away three levels down into the bowels of Rata Sum, far from the watchful eyes of the other colleges and krewes who might secretly benefit from their work.

Descending the rear staircases past those first and second levels of research and development, Jinkke was reminded why they did what they did, and why she was there at Synergetics to begin with: to find the deeper truths of the world and establish ways to leverage that for further asura advancement, perhaps even further Tyrian advancement. It was a place her brother would never have thrived, and it afforded her research opportunities that she never had at Dynamics and would likely have taken her years longer to reach in any krewe not associated with the college, decades longer had she skipped the colleges as a whole.

Had that been worth it, though? Of course it had; Jinkke had never questioned that, not seriously anyway. Not until today.

Walking the brightly lit stone corridors of lower Rata Sum, and specifically the Synergetics sector, she finally arrived at the floor of her own lab, three levels down into the belly of the floating cube that was the city. She passed the door to the lab itself, though, and opened the next, walking into her personal quarters and tossing her things onto the bed before plopping down on it herself. It was unlike her, but she needed a moment to collect herself before returning to her work and her krewe.

She unpacked instead, laid out all the now useless travel items in orderly rows along the bed. Two sets of clothing, broken neatly into the different articles, some coin, a bed mat and blanket that had been strapped to the underside of her pack, and the last of the apples she’d bought for Minkus in Bloodtide. Her brother loved fresh apples, about as excitedly as he loved everything that mattered to him.

She sighed again, burying her head in her hands. “Big Brother,” she whispered to no one, “please comprehend my intention.” In truth, she was suddenly unsure if she'd comprehended her intention all those years ago.

Jinkke slid off the bed and slipped out of her room and into the lab next door. It was empty. There was no ready indication of where Onn and Drixxi were at the moment, but at the moment that also didn’t matter. The silence, the solitude, they were what Jinkke wanted.

Nothing but the glow of the illumination cells shed light on anything in that sterile cave of a room, so she slowly strode across the room to the generator, tapped a few commands into the control panel, and watched it slowly hum to life, followed closely by a series of miniature transmats sitting on a work table in the middle of the room.

She shook her head. Just a few short days ago, unlocking the mysterious source of energy that the transmat units used to pass matter between themselves was all she could think about. It kept her up at night, woke her in the morning, and thrummed in her mind as she went about her daily activities. And now?

She walked solemnly to the table and stared at the glowing cubes for a second. Cubes. Everything about Rata Sum was cubes. Minkus never had understood that. She’d tried to explain it to him, the way energy flowed most efficiently through straight lines, and systems in crystalline patterns were best for magical absorption and retention, making cubes essentially the perfect cross between conveyance and storage. Still, as many times as she’d explained it, and as many times as he’d nodded compliantly and repeated the theories back to her, he’d still construct his projects in irregular and illogical shapes: golems, drakes, siamoths, mountains, and occasionally a beer keg—anything and everything her brother had an affinity or interest in.

She laughed. Out loud, right there in the empty lab, she laughed. Her brother had always been able to make her do that, that and cry, which was what she found herself doing next.

“Oh, Minkus,” she said, more to herself than to the thought of him. Unlike most asura, she was relatively aware of her emotions—he’d given her that too—but not near as aware of them as he was. Somehow, he’d always known what she was feeling, even when she herself couldn’t grasp it, let alone put it to words. And yet, she'd managed to hide a decision from him, a long series of decisions, for so long. He was the closest person to her in the world, and somehow she'd missed herself actively pushing him away for so long.

“Big Brother,” she said again, closing her eyes as she poked one of the miniature transmats, “did I even do it for you? What did I do?"