Chapter 1058: Igniting the Flame

From Pittman’s demeanor, Beltira realized that the “synthetic brain” technology she had developed was far more significant than she had initially imagined. This “Outsider,” always a step ahead in his thinking, seemed to perceive a broader horizon for this technology—or perhaps he had already charted a future application for it.

“May I ask something?” she couldn’t help but inquire, curiosity getting the better of her. “What exactly do you plan to do with these ‘brains’? Surely it’s not just about expanding the ranks of the psychic singers or creating more mental-assist devices?”

Pittman glanced at her silently for a moment, then, after a brief pause, smiled and asked, “Have you ever seen those factories roaring with activity?”

“Factories?” Beltira blinked, then nodded. “Of course. Though I can’t move around now, the entire Solin region is dotted with factories. I’ve seen those producing clothing and metal containers, as well as plants handling sewage and recycling sludge monsters… The machines are impressive.”

“Yes, impressive—but perhaps they could be even more so,” Pittman raised an eyebrow. “Those machines are powerful and efficient, but compared to skilled artisans, what they can do is still limited and crude. As a Gondorian, you should know how the magical workshops operated over seven centuries ago…”

“Are you saying you want the machines to… learn to think?” Beltira’s eyes widened as she finally grasped his meaning. “Using those synthetic brains?”

“Not just that. We might even teach the factories themselves to think,” Pittman nodded. “Imagine this: our factories are massive steel beasts, but these beasts have minds. At the heart of the factory lies a loyal wetware mainframe, its neural fibers sprawling through pipes across the workshops. Each machine is an extension of its nervous system. All gears and levers become nimble, like the fingers of a master craftsman, performing delicate tasks. The workers and technicians only need to issue commands and design more advanced workflows…”

Beltira was silent for several seconds. If she still had a heartbeat, it might have stopped for a moment. She admitted she was captivated by the vision Pittman painted, yet a strange sense of caution stirred within her. Finally, she shook her head and fixed her gaze on the Empire’s chief druid. “How come I never knew you had such a way with words?”

“Because those words come from His Majesty—I’m just the one who repeats them,” Pittman said casually. “He envisioned an astonishing mode of production… But, to be fair, he also emphasized the unsettling aspects behind this technology. What if these brains lose control? What if they develop their own ‘thoughts’? What role will humans play in the factories? You’re a technician and lived through the Gondorian era—you should understand what His Majesty worries about.”

“I do understand. And I’m actually relieved he’s already concerned about these things,” Beltira exhaled as if human, “How to put it… The future you described just now made me a little nervous. The thought of factories and machines beginning to think—that’s what unsettles me most.”

She paused, as if weighing her thoughts, then continued, “But it’s a relief we don’t have to be that worried yet. At this stage, the synthetic brains I created lack the physiological structure to develop ‘self-awareness.’ They’re auxiliary computational organs, capable of rapidly summarizing vast data and transmitting consciousness signals, but their neural nodes cannot independently solve complex problems. Unless we completely redesign their structure, there’s no need to fear these brains suddenly becoming self-aware and running amok.

“On the other hand, precisely because these brains only perform calculations and simple commands, if they’re used to control machines, they can only carry out preset tasks—repetitive operations of low complexity. So, we don’t have to worry about mass unemployment in factories… though job reductions are inevitable.”

“His Majesty’s concerns go beyond human unemployment. In fact, that’s not the main issue,” Pittman shook his head. “The biggest problem for factories everywhere is a shortage of workers. Even if over half the machines gain autonomous operation, the labor gap remains huge… But that’s not what we’re here to discuss today.

“In any case, if things are as you say, I’m personally relieved.”

Beltira studied Pittman thoughtfully, then said, “Since we’re on the topic of ‘machines learning to think,’ I have some thoughts of my own…”

“Go ahead,” Pittman nodded eagerly. “You’re the expert here.”

“It’s not about expertise. I’m just reminded of something from the Gondorian era,” Beltira said, the vines and branches trailing behind her rustling softly against the floor. “You should know that long ago, humans created thinking ‘machines’—back then, we called them ‘Iron Men.’ Modern golems and puppetry magic are remnants of that ‘intelligent’ technology. Of course, the Iron Men’s cognitive cores and the arcane cores of puppets are fundamentally different from synthetic brains, but they share one thing: the potential to go out of control.

“In the Gondorian era, to prevent the Iron Men from running wild, a special measure was taken.”

“A special measure?” Pittman’s curiosity piqued. “What kind?”

“I only know the broad strokes—after all, my brothers and I were minor nobles on the frontier, and what I’m about to say concerns the cutting-edge human technology of that time,” Beltira recalled slowly. “Back then, all Iron Men were integrated into a system called the ‘Iron Man Network.’ This network acted as their collective ‘brain.’ They could only operate under its control. And the uppermost nodes of this network… guess what they were?”

“Uppermost nodes?” Pittman frowned, then a name flashed through his mind—someone as ancient and rebellious as Kamail. “Wait, I think I know…”

“Just as you guessed,” Beltira nodded. “It was the Gondorian royal family—the Nortons.

“Each member of the Norton family underwent neural modification during their lifetime, allowing their brains to integrate with the Iron Man Network. Even after death, their consciousness was preserved in some form, continuing to operate within the network. Generation after generation, the Norton royals maintained absolute control over these high-intelligence mechanical soldiers… Though Gondor is gone now, until the fall of the ancient empire, those Iron Man legions never once went rogue.”

Pittman opened his mouth, then muttered after a long pause, “This preservation of consciousness… somehow reminds me of the Immortals…”

“Yes, though different, there are parallels,” Beltira said. “Many of the miracles we perform today were already achieved by the Gondorian Empire centuries ago.”

Pittman’s expression grew complex. “No wonder Kamail, Veronica, and even His Majesty often say that much of our current technological progress isn’t ‘creation’ but restoration and reconstruction…”

“That’s why I rarely consider any specific technology today a ‘miracle,’” Beltira forced a faint, somewhat stiff smile. “To me, the greatest miracle of the Cecil Empire isn’t the technology itself, but that you’ve found a way to bring it to all humanity—and the mindset and spirit you’ve shown in the process. That’s what the once-glorious Gondorian Empire lacked.”

“That might be the highest praise you could give,” Pittman chuckled with a sigh. “In any case, the information you’ve shared is invaluable. While we can’t recreate the Iron Man Network, we do have the Narrator Neural Network, and now the technology to connect those synthetic brains to it… What you’ve told us is an important reference.”

“But don’t forget, neural networks carry risks,” Beltira warned solemnly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my years in the dark cult, it’s this: every technology has risks. There’s no perfect, foolproof safety solution. As technology advances, risks evolve and brew alongside it. The Iron Man Network never failed, but in my view, that’s only because the Gondorian Empire fell first. Ultimately, risk is normal—but the greatest risk is complacency. If one day you truly believe there’s a technology without any hidden dangers or accidents, that’s when disaster will strike.”

As she spoke, her eyes—devoid of emotion and humanity—locked unblinking onto Pittman’s, as if her very inhuman state was a warning, lending weight to her words. “Please pass this on to Brother Gawain. Though he may not need the reminder, I want this voice of caution to endure.”

Pittman hadn’t expected such a heartfelt reflection from the former dark cult leader. Surprised, he nevertheless nodded gravely. “I will—and I’ll record your words today for the researchers just entering the field of knowledge.”

“That’s good,” Beltira finally withdrew her gaze from Pittman and glanced at the rows of incubation pods lining the walls, a faint smile touching her voice. “Alright, let’s relax a bit. It’s still too early to dwell on these things. After all, what you described are things not yet realized. Before worrying about the risks of synthetic brains, let’s discuss how to interface these brains with ordinary machines… From my experience, the current immersion pods and artificial neural cables aren’t very user-friendly.”

…

“Risk is inherent in technology, but the greatest risk is complacency…” Gawain murmured to himself, shaking his head. “Looks like Beltira is very cautious about the large-scale use of synthetic brains—even though she designed them herself.”

Veronica, holding her platinum scepter in Gawain’s study, smiled softly at his words. “The original synthetic brains were made by the Solin Great Tree—they’re essentially extensions of Beltira’s mind. She can trust them. But mass production means synthetic brains grown in biochemical factories, beyond the Great Tree’s control. It’s natural for Beltira to worry.”

“…The End of All Things once paid a heavy price for technological runaway and that complacency. Beltira herself was part of that cost, which changed her outlook,” Gawain said. “She’s the most outstanding druid, yet now she’s extremely cautious about anything she creates—sometimes to the point of self-doubt. Though she carefully manages this mindset, it still shows in the wording of some of her experimental reports.”

“From another perspective, her caution is actually a good thing,” Veronica said gently. “Teaching the factory to think, using artificial brains to control machines… and maybe, someday, even weapons—this is definitely something that calls for careful handling.”

“The wetware servitors gave me the idea,” Garwin mused, stroking his chin. On the desk before him lay neatly organized files and documents. Among them were frontline combat reports on the wetware servitors and the psychic choir, while other pages contained rough sketches illustrating the concept of a ‘synthetic brain’ controlling machines and directing the factory. “I was actually a bit surprised. After all, during the Gondor era, there were ‘iron men’—machines capable of thought—and some magical workshops had ‘spirits’ that assisted production. I assumed that Beltira, having inherited Gondor’s legacy, would be more open-minded about this kind of thing…”

“Even the Gondorians never used true artificial brains to control those machines—that’s a solution no one had really considered,” Veronica said. “Compared to mind cores or magical spirits, biological brains introduce far more variables. And from a common person’s worldview, those biological brains naturally provoke unease. That’s perfectly normal.”

“Yeah, that’s perfectly normal,” Garwin chuckled, looking at Veronica. “What about you? How do you see it?”

“…When humans first took fire from lightning, it was unsettling too.”

Garwin looked at Veronica deeply.

After a long moment, a faint smile appeared on his lips. “I understand.”

(Happy holidays, everyone! During the double rewards period, please consider voting for me!)

(End of chapter)