Preparation 5-2
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
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(Emmy)
I came out to Manchester on Tuesday to take a look at the construction site for the new factory. As I took a look at the progress so far I could only remark,
"That's a great big hole in the ground."
A hard-hatted man who was currently eating his lunch remarked,
"Yeah, and it's going to be a whole lot bigger. Why does a factory need three basement levels anyway?"
I shrugged,
"Ruggedizer wants more lab space, and it's a lot easier to make it secure if it's below ground level."
The construction worker nodded.
"That makes the extreme level of structural reinforcement make sense at least. I accidentally ran over my new flashlight with my truck, and it was barely scratched."
I nodded,
"That won't be a problem, I hope?"
He actually laughed,
"Not in the slightest! Compared to the borderline infeasible art projects a lot of architects ask for, this project is a breath of fresh air! It's just good honest utilitarian construction with high quality materials."
Then a notification on the construction worker's phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, read the text message, and swore out loud.
I blinked in shock. "What's the issue?"
"My son's an exchange student in Sydney, and the Simurgh's started on a trajectory towards Australia! I hope he gets out of the way before his brain gets screwed up by that monster."
Oh. Oh we really needed to get things into high gear. There was no way we could fight an Endbringer yet, and they wouldn't be waiting for us.
(Andrea)
My very first moment of awareness was soft. I was apparently lying down on a… bed? Huh, I actually knew a lot now that I took a moment to pay attention to the inner workings of my mind.
"Andrea, are you feeling alright?"
I turned to look at who'd said that, seeing a pair of very similar brown-haired women looking at me. My recognition systems identified them as Emmy and Melissa. I quickly lifted myself up into a sitting position.
"I think so?"
There was a brief pause, before a question occurred to me.
"Why do I exist?"
Emmy sighed,
"We built you as a means to an end, but we'll still treat you decently regardless of that."
I blinked (what an odd mannerism to have), before asking another question.
"What do you need me to do?"
Melissa answered,
"Basically, we just don't have enough time to go around between what we need to do in public and what we need to do in private, even accounting for humans needing sleep when we don't. We're hoping you can help address that."
Why was I so doubtful about being created anyway? But my curiosity was sparked now.
"Why couldn't you just recruit a trustworthy individual?"
Emmy's expression saddened.
"The information is already in an encrypted directory inside you. But before you open it, we decided you deserve a choice. There's a program in there that will change you if you learn what's in that directory; you physically won't be able to share that information with anyone lacking sufficient security bona fides, and even then you'll only be able to talk about it in known secure areas."
I nodded,
"What's in that directory is important, isn't it?"
"Extremely, but like I said, you deserve a choice on whether or not to learn it."
I stood to attention, the dozens of gravitational nodes inside my frame allowing me to hover a bit off the floor as I did so.
"You made me to fulfill a purpose, and I choose to do so."
With that I decrypted the directory, feeling my future actions becoming constrained in the process.
…Oh. Oh the world was so fucked…
(Melissa)
With Andrea and Emmy cataloging Leet's tech, I was free to focus on probing our power's database. I was primarily focused on decoding its address structure, but if some useful exotic technology happened to fall out in the process I wasn't going to complain.
Well, calling it an "address structure" was perhaps optimistic. Within only a few minutes of investigation I'd been able to determine that the inner workings of this alien were a lot more akin to a fucked up hybrid of neurology and analog electronics than anything remotely digital. Still, it was comprehensible after I spent a little while adjusting my thought processes.
Soldiering on, I was still in the "poking at random addresses" stage of things when I stumbled onto a rather interesting component; apparently the civilization this techbase was originally plundered from had absolutely mastered nuclear fusion. Still couldn't make a power plant much smaller than a car's engine compartment without compromising the radiation shielding, but there were all sorts of uses I could think of for this. Also the superconductors the reactor called for looked incredibly interesting in their own right.
That said, I didn't let myself get distracted; the fusion reactor plans were quickly filed away for later reference, and I continued with my efforts to map out the alien that was providing our Tinkering ability. By three in the morning I was nowhere near done, but I'd at least developed a vague theoretical framework to build off of. Time for a break, as far as I was concerned.
When I got to our newly-shielded living room, I was treated to a sight of Emmy and Andrea snuggling on the couch, our daughter(?)'s red hair draped over the armrest.
"So, I've made some good progress on mapping our power's database, and found plans for fusion reactors in the process. How'd your end of things go?"
Emmy shrugged, "Decently; we haven't been able to directly replicate any of Leet's creations on account of all the gaps, but we've managed to cobble together a workable hard light projector based on the parts that were actually real from various devices."
I blinked,
"How does it work?"
Andrea lifted her head from the armrest,
"Photon molecules! Do a thingy with photons and they act like mass. We managed to make a thingy that can project light in order to make solid barriers out of photon molecules. They don't last long and it's Tinkery as all get out, but they can block gunshots and they're constantly being refreshed anyway, so incremental damage is useless against them."
Emmy sighed,
"Andrea, you're forgetting the special dust particles it needs to optically manipulate to work. Though with a discrete source of dust, it's quite good at producing solid visual illusions. We can maybe use that as the basis of a second fake Parahuman's abilities."
I came out to Manchester on Tuesday to take a look at the construction site for the new factory. As I took a look at the progress so far I could only remark,
"That's a great big hole in the ground."
A hard-hatted man who was currently eating his lunch remarked,
"Yeah, and it's going to be a whole lot bigger. Why does a factory need three basement levels anyway?"
I shrugged,
"Ruggedizer wants more lab space, and it's a lot easier to make it secure if it's below ground level."
The construction worker nodded.
"That makes the extreme level of structural reinforcement make sense at least. I accidentally ran over my new flashlight with my truck, and it was barely scratched."
I nodded,
"That won't be a problem, I hope?"
He actually laughed,
"Not in the slightest! Compared to the borderline infeasible art projects a lot of architects ask for, this project is a breath of fresh air! It's just good honest utilitarian construction with high quality materials."
Then a notification on the construction worker's phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket, read the text message, and swore out loud.
I blinked in shock. "What's the issue?"
"My son's an exchange student in Sydney, and the Simurgh's started on a trajectory towards Australia! I hope he gets out of the way before his brain gets screwed up by that monster."
Oh. Oh we really needed to get things into high gear. There was no way we could fight an Endbringer yet, and they wouldn't be waiting for us.
(Andrea)
My very first moment of awareness was soft. I was apparently lying down on a… bed? Huh, I actually knew a lot now that I took a moment to pay attention to the inner workings of my mind.
"Andrea, are you feeling alright?"
I turned to look at who'd said that, seeing a pair of very similar brown-haired women looking at me. My recognition systems identified them as Emmy and Melissa. I quickly lifted myself up into a sitting position.
"I think so?"
There was a brief pause, before a question occurred to me.
"Why do I exist?"
Emmy sighed,
"We built you as a means to an end, but we'll still treat you decently regardless of that."
I blinked (what an odd mannerism to have), before asking another question.
"What do you need me to do?"
Melissa answered,
"Basically, we just don't have enough time to go around between what we need to do in public and what we need to do in private, even accounting for humans needing sleep when we don't. We're hoping you can help address that."
Why was I so doubtful about being created anyway? But my curiosity was sparked now.
"Why couldn't you just recruit a trustworthy individual?"
Emmy's expression saddened.
"The information is already in an encrypted directory inside you. But before you open it, we decided you deserve a choice. There's a program in there that will change you if you learn what's in that directory; you physically won't be able to share that information with anyone lacking sufficient security bona fides, and even then you'll only be able to talk about it in known secure areas."
I nodded,
"What's in that directory is important, isn't it?"
"Extremely, but like I said, you deserve a choice on whether or not to learn it."
I stood to attention, the dozens of gravitational nodes inside my frame allowing me to hover a bit off the floor as I did so.
"You made me to fulfill a purpose, and I choose to do so."
With that I decrypted the directory, feeling my future actions becoming constrained in the process.
…Oh. Oh the world was so fucked…
(Melissa)
With Andrea and Emmy cataloging Leet's tech, I was free to focus on probing our power's database. I was primarily focused on decoding its address structure, but if some useful exotic technology happened to fall out in the process I wasn't going to complain.
Well, calling it an "address structure" was perhaps optimistic. Within only a few minutes of investigation I'd been able to determine that the inner workings of this alien were a lot more akin to a fucked up hybrid of neurology and analog electronics than anything remotely digital. Still, it was comprehensible after I spent a little while adjusting my thought processes.
Soldiering on, I was still in the "poking at random addresses" stage of things when I stumbled onto a rather interesting component; apparently the civilization this techbase was originally plundered from had absolutely mastered nuclear fusion. Still couldn't make a power plant much smaller than a car's engine compartment without compromising the radiation shielding, but there were all sorts of uses I could think of for this. Also the superconductors the reactor called for looked incredibly interesting in their own right.
That said, I didn't let myself get distracted; the fusion reactor plans were quickly filed away for later reference, and I continued with my efforts to map out the alien that was providing our Tinkering ability. By three in the morning I was nowhere near done, but I'd at least developed a vague theoretical framework to build off of. Time for a break, as far as I was concerned.
When I got to our newly-shielded living room, I was treated to a sight of Emmy and Andrea snuggling on the couch, our daughter(?)'s red hair draped over the armrest.
"So, I've made some good progress on mapping our power's database, and found plans for fusion reactors in the process. How'd your end of things go?"
Emmy shrugged, "Decently; we haven't been able to directly replicate any of Leet's creations on account of all the gaps, but we've managed to cobble together a workable hard light projector based on the parts that were actually real from various devices."
I blinked,
"How does it work?"
Andrea lifted her head from the armrest,
"Photon molecules! Do a thingy with photons and they act like mass. We managed to make a thingy that can project light in order to make solid barriers out of photon molecules. They don't last long and it's Tinkery as all get out, but they can block gunshots and they're constantly being refreshed anyway, so incremental damage is useless against them."
Emmy sighed,
"Andrea, you're forgetting the special dust particles it needs to optically manipulate to work. Though with a discrete source of dust, it's quite good at producing solid visual illusions. We can maybe use that as the basis of a second fake Parahuman's abilities."