Black outlines of a room fade into view. The image is fuzzy. Cracked.
A man… a man? … sits before a desk, face indistinct, hair black, skin a luminescent blue. Blue? Maybe it’s the light. A door opens.
“Operator Jairo… she’s here.” The voice is speaking in Cheunh.
“Ahh…” he stands, and a woman enters, shape in the shadows.
He nods, picking up a datapad off the desk, but holds it without examination. Clears his throat. “L’axad’yis, the Ascendancy honors you.” He hands her a charric M-27 sniper rifle from the darkness. Static. Clarity again. Her? A woman. Hair long, pinned back. Face proud, she slings the weapon on her back with efficient grace.
The man speaks again. “You are the best we’ve ever created. Smart. Efficient. A mathematical genius... with a conscience...” He looks older for a moment, hair fading to gray, face wrinkling, then changing back. He mutters. It’s indistinct but part of it sounds like, “… a waste… really.”
He straightens. “You’re a Watcher of the Order. The work will be hard. Confusing. Should you accept, you can never return. Do you understand?” His image distorts, fuzzes, comes back into focus.
“Yes, sir,” she says. “Glory to the Ascendancy.” Her voice echoes as if in a cavernous room. She kneels. Numbers swirl around her feet, patterns in the durasteel. Unseen before, two men in bulky armor stand behind her, weapons drawn.
“Very well.” The man places a hand on her shoulder and she bows her head. The walls around them warp, reform. “I grant you the title Authoriter. Your past is forfeit, as is your future. What name do you chose?”
She remains kneeling silently. “Dice,” she says.
He nods. “Dice, no matter what happens, follow the code and your orders. It’s all that matters. You understand?”
“Yes sir!”
“In the name of the Ascendancy,” he intones.
She rises and turns to go, but he clears his throat and she stops. “It’s possible you’ll not see me again. Remember the techniques. Mathematics – it’s your anchor. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.”
Blood on the walls. Someone screams. It sounds like…
“Jairo!”
Too muffled to tell. The image breaks, slips and fades completely.
A man… a man? … sits before a desk, face indistinct, hair black, skin a luminescent blue. Blue? Maybe it’s the light. A door opens.
“Operator Jairo… she’s here.” The voice is speaking in Cheunh.
“Ahh…” he stands, and a woman enters, shape in the shadows.
He nods, picking up a datapad off the desk, but holds it without examination. Clears his throat. “L’axad’yis, the Ascendancy honors you.” He hands her a charric M-27 sniper rifle from the darkness. Static. Clarity again. Her? A woman. Hair long, pinned back. Face proud, she slings the weapon on her back with efficient grace.
The man speaks again. “You are the best we’ve ever created. Smart. Efficient. A mathematical genius... with a conscience...” He looks older for a moment, hair fading to gray, face wrinkling, then changing back. He mutters. It’s indistinct but part of it sounds like, “… a waste… really.”
He straightens. “You’re a Watcher of the Order. The work will be hard. Confusing. Should you accept, you can never return. Do you understand?” His image distorts, fuzzes, comes back into focus.
“Yes, sir,” she says. “Glory to the Ascendancy.” Her voice echoes as if in a cavernous room. She kneels. Numbers swirl around her feet, patterns in the durasteel. Unseen before, two men in bulky armor stand behind her, weapons drawn.
“Very well.” The man places a hand on her shoulder and she bows her head. The walls around them warp, reform. “I grant you the title Authoriter. Your past is forfeit, as is your future. What name do you chose?”
She remains kneeling silently. “Dice,” she says.
He nods. “Dice, no matter what happens, follow the code and your orders. It’s all that matters. You understand?”
“Yes sir!”
“In the name of the Ascendancy,” he intones.
She rises and turns to go, but he clears his throat and she stops. “It’s possible you’ll not see me again. Remember the techniques. Mathematics – it’s your anchor. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.”
Blood on the walls. Someone screams. It sounds like…
“Jairo!”
Too muffled to tell. The image breaks, slips and fades completely.