Paracelsus von Hohenheim followed closely behind Leonardo da Vinci and Dr. Dew as they navigated the corridors of their facility. His discerning eyes studied every detail—the fusion of technology and biology, the hum of machinery, the structured chaos of innovation. It was a world vastly different from his own, yet familiar in the pursuit of creation.
Dr. Dew gestured to a towering metallic apparatus embedded into the wall. "This here is our Sierra Madre vending machine. It can fabricate anything we program it to, provided we have the necessary resources."
Paracelsus examined the machine, his hand brushing the smooth surface. He noted the octagonal chip reader, its intricate mechanisms built for precision. "An automaton capable of material transmutation…" He turned to his companions, curiosity sparking in his gaze. "If such a device exists, why do you keep farm animals? Would it not be more efficient to synthesize your sustenance?"
Dr. Dew chuckled, shaking his head. "We could, and we do use it for emergencies or certain projects, but relying on it entirely isn't sustainable. There's value in working with your own hands—farming, cooking, creating. Those experiences shape people."
Leonardo nodded in agreement. "The process of creation carries meaning. Humanity thrives not just on the results, but on the journey itself."
Paracelsus hummed thoughtfully. "A lesson echoed in alchemy. Overreliance on shortcuts leads to stagnation. Growth requires struggle."
They continued deeper into the facility, arriving at a reinforced chamber filled with humming machinery. Large screens displayed complex data, and mechanical arms hovered overhead like watchful sentinels. At the center stood the Synth Creation Machine, its core pulsating with artificial rhythm.
Paracelsus approached the imposing device, curiosity evident in his expression. "And this?"
Leonardo took the lead. "This is how we create synths. Unlike homunculi, they are built, not grown."
Paracelsus's brow furrowed. "Do they possess magic circuits?"
Leonardo shook her head. "No. Their creation has nothing to do with magic circuits."
A deeper frown creased Paracelsus's face. "Then by what means do they function?"
Dr. Dew stepped in. "Generation 3 synths are biological constructs, assembled from individually grown components—organs, skin, muscles, bones—all meticulously integrated. However, they lack magic circuits due to the absence of a soul. Magic circuits are tied to the soul, and without one, they cannot exist. Unfortunately, our Synth Creation Machine cannot fabricate souls."
Paracelsus absorbed the revelation in contemplative silence. "In the crafting of homunculi, the process involves forming a body while also infusing it with mana, thereby granting it magic circuits—a semblance of a soul. This machine, however, merely assembles a vessel and implants artificial intelligence, devoid of true life essence."
Leonardo's eyes gleamed with realization. "Even if we complete the Koh-I-Noor, merging homunculi and synths wouldn't solve the core issue—the absence of a soul."
Dr. Dew exhaled deeply. "We'll deal with that later. Right now, our priority is getting the Koh-I-Noor operational."
Paracelsus crossed his arms, his mind racing with possibilities. "To create a synthetic being endowed with a soul is an undertaking that transcends traditional alchemy. But if this is your aspiration, I will lend my expertise."
Leonardo offered a confident smile. "We'll need all the help we can get."
Dr. Dew motioned for them to follow as he led them into an adjacent chamber. Inside, rows of sleek, cylindrical pods lined the walls, each one reinforced with steel and polymer plating. A soft blue glow pulsed from the control panels embedded in their exteriors.
Paracelsus studied the devices with a mix of intrigue and wariness. "And these?"
"These are Vault 112 virtual reality pods from my world," Dr. Dew explained. "Synths are born with the minds of infants. Without these, we'd have to raise them like children—even if they're in adult bodies. Instead, we accelerate their mental development in a controlled environment."
Leonardo gestured to a nearby console. "The pods simulate real-life experiences at an accelerated pace. An advanced AI oversees their progress, teaching them morality, survival skills, and everything they need to know before they're released into the real world."
Paracelsus nodded slowly. "A method akin to the transference of knowledge used in homunculi, but far more intricate."
Dr. Dew crossed his arms. "It's a necessary step. If they show no signs of being dangerous, they're allowed into reality. If they prove a threat, we keep them in the virtual world longer for further monitoring." He paused. "And if they refuse to change, we deal with them accordingly."
Leonardo sighed, her expression heavy. "A grim reality, but a necessary one."
Paracelsus turned to face them, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "You are striving for something beyond simple creation. You are building a future."
Dr. Dew nodded. "We can't afford to take shortcuts. Synths need a real upbringing, not just programming."
As they stood amidst the technological marvels, an unsettling sensation washed over them—a creeping awareness of being observed. It was faint, distant, yet undeniably there. Dr. Dew cast a wary glance upwards, as if expecting to see something lurking beyond the stars.
The sensation was weaker than before, yet persistent.
Above them, in the endless abyss of space, a single star pulsed faintly.
A star that was not a star.
End of Chapter Twenty