Honestly, I had never realized before that the Council, who appeared so strict and methodical in both speech and action, had such a bizarre side to her. The hundreds of personalities she retained after becoming a consciousness collective were astounding, especially the way she used them so flexibly—it was almost too much to watch. But it made sense when I thought about it. Her state of conscious symbiosis differed from that of the Grand Warlord. Shilin Apostles were like perfectly precise machines; they could merge all souls and personalities without any loss, forming a single, lucid new consciousness. Most mortal races, however, could not control their minds as if they were programs. Thus, even after forming a consciousness collective, they retained strong individual tendencies to avoid descending into chaos. The result was someone like the Council, with hundreds of personalities peacefully sharing a single set of memories.
Our relationship with the Council had been fairly ordinary before. Our exchanges had consisted mostly of diplomatic formalities, and naturally, she had not revealed much of her individual personality. But now that we could be considered friends in a sense, I instantly realized just how unusual she was.
After completing the handover of the Human Brain Array Mainframe's related materials and confirming that Tawell's Mass Projection could get along amicably with the local scientists—actually, they had hit it off even faster than I expected; did research maniacs share some kind of scent?—we chatted with the Council for a while. For more than thirty minutes, we discussed the Exiles' current situation and future plans. The Council talked endlessly. Personality Number Seventy-Six seemed to be a mildly chatty nag.
Her symptoms were milder than that bizarre Dragon God and the Second Madman under Viska, so Sandora and I both felt the pressure was manageable.
Standing