Chapter 11
Book: The Singular Exegete.
Introduced in: Season of Arrivals.
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[Report by VanNet encrypted router.]
A rebuke to Savathûn for her interference. Perhaps she is jealous of our direct access to the Pyramid. She led the Hive to the Darkness, but she has had eons to regret that choice. Could we exploit this?
[Personal notes, scratched in Hive leather with a flake of Ionian stone.]
I find the Guardians' collective study humiliating. Their channels are full of open speculation about me. Is she a hapless lackey of Queen Mara? An ancient proto-Hive matron? And why did she offer to trade a bag of quartz-chip datastores for a pound of breadfruit?
Savathûn, Queen of All Encrypts. Savathûn, who has distorted these messages so badly that only the tenacious Drifter can unscramble them.
Why does the Hive trickster want to prevent our contact with her god?
Simplest answer: It is all a trick. "You did exactly as I required," is her retort to any defeat. How can her plans be foiled when no one understands what they are?
But would she dare defy the Deep Itself?
Perhaps she would. Savathûn's wretched existence is bound to the need to confuse. To understand her is to destroy her. Is she still set on luring us into a black hole, some newborn universe where she can be a true god? Or was that a lie too?
Am I on the verge of some discovery that threatens her?
Jupiter is always straight above. At night, the whole sky is afire, tons of sulfur burning in the flux tube that connects Io to the Jovian pole. I burn my trash and the smoke drifts up forever. The radio howls like wolves.
I am lonely.
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