Flawed Machines E-Book

J. Tyler Copeland

• Herausgeber: J. Tyler Copeland
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 296

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

It has been five years since Osmond Diaz's return to Chun from his seemingly endless journey abroad. Now, Andres (his unique research assistant) and Osmond must find a new purpose as their extensive project has finally come to an end.

While refamiliarizing with the vibrant Chun region, trouble ensues from an eerie tech-infused cult, the Mounean Order, as they begin to trail every step Osmond and Andres take.

What the Mounean Order intends to do when they meet Osmond and Andres is nothing short of a mystery, so the two may need the help of friends and acquaintances Osmond hasn't seen in years. The question remains, "What do they truly want?"

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

O. nth

I. The Question

II. Overdue

III. Daydreaming

IV. Unknown Unknowns

V. Prime Mover

VI. Reflection of Gray

VII. The Meeting

VIII. Grey Branches

IX. To the Hunter in the Sky

X. Drive Then Storm

XI. Skywatchers

XII. The Call

XIII. Familiar Faces

XIV. The Hunter’s Fall

XV. A Good Night’s Rest

XVI. The Café

XVII. Train of Thought

XVIII. Time Stands Still

XIX. Homebound

XX. And Space

XXI. The Answer

XXII. Cybernetics and Coffee

XXIII. Silent March

XXIV. In Absentia

Flawed Machines

J. Tyler Copeland

Copyright © 2018 J. Tyler Copeland

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-0692083499

ISBN-10: 0692083499

https://www.cyneca.com

https://www.instagram.com/jtylercopeland/

Since formatting for electronic books is a bit different from print copies, this e-book does not have the maps of Juk and Orion’s Eye. Though it is lacking visually, I have included a few extra lines on each of the five section pages. I hope you enjoy this story at least half as much as I had while developing, researching, and writing it!

Part One

EXTENT

Not even the length of time could hold this Technician’s legacy. Unknowingly, he brought forth Infinity and smiled upon the result. Welcome to his World!

O. nth

“Hey, Andres… Can you hear me? Am I clear?”

“Yes, of course, Osmond. What is it?”

Osmond Diaz tugged on his earbuds, careful not to drop them on the park bench.

Stretching wide on the wooden seat, he continued his phone conversation with the confident, young male voice.

“I’m wanting to know if you see my necklace anywhere around the house. Could have sworn I put it on sometime this morning, but… Well, I’m second-guessing myself now.”

“Yes, Osmond. I see it.”

“…and?”

“You left it on a book in the guest room. The title is partially covered, so only “The End” is visible. I’m assuming you read it recently.”

“Oh…yeah. Geez, that seems rather simple. I figured I put in some box or something. Or maybe I really messed up and dropped it out here. And there’s no telling where it would’ve landed if I lost it in this giant park.”

Osmond excitedly tapped on the back of the bench while his other hand mimicked the motion on his leg.

He looked as much at ease as a person could possibly be while sitting in a dark forest.

“Will you be returning soon, Osmond?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. I was a bit caught up in our sky’s fleeting star. The dusk is really only beautiful for a few minutes before the night overshadows it.”

Osmond nervously tapped his hand and feet while staring at the sunset, giving off a vibe of neuroticism.

“Oh Andres… If only you understood the backflips my stomach is performing right now. I swear, it feels like a gymnasium in here.”

“Perhaps you worry too much.”

“No, it’s that I worry at all. It’s times like these I wish I was composed like you, my friend. Emotions and irrationality can be saved for another time. Anyways… The sky is too beautiful right now to worry about the night. I guess I’ll be on my way now.”

“Osmond,” his earbuds passively said. “I have been meaning to ask you something lately.”

“Well, go ahead.”

“Once you finish your project tonight… What will you do then?”

“What will I do? What, with my life?!”

Osmond grunted a few times as he slowly stood up from the park bench.

The dwindling sunlight that initially warmed Osmond’s back and instilled serenity in him lessened the further he walked into the woods.

“Yes, what will you do now that your main objective is coming to an end?”

“That depends, my friend. I don’t see it ending any time soon.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh well, I don’t mean I plan on duplicating my project. Research on artificial intelligence has its limits when operated by a human, and I certainly wouldn’t try to replicate it. Such instrumental work is more than a project, it’s my life’s work!”

“Then you feel that is your purpose?” Andres asked.

The conditional statement gave Osmond a mixed feeling, leaving him hugging his jacket closer with his hands in his pockets.

“I guess you could say that… Yeah, it’s my main purpose…for now, at least. That question was a bit of a shock, but I’m glad you brought it up. If there’s one thing I can impart to the world, it’s that a purpose is one of the most important things a person can have. Without it, you’d have no reason to move.”

“I agree, and I hope to follow mine fairly soon.”

“No need to worry about that happening. I’m sure it will happen sooner than you think. That’s how it always happens, y’know? I used to find it strange we aren’t born with some type of assigned meaning. Like, why would we come into existence completely unguided, absent of any rhyme or reason. We just happen, we just are, y’know? It can be a terrifying thought to dwell on, which is why I became so obsessed with work. That took my mind off it periodically, yet the looming question still followed me like a lost fowl longing to impress. But it was somewhere along the shadows of this nihilistic existence that it occurred to me, a light suddenly shimmered. With no purpose written into the script, we’re permitted to write our own actions. The freedom that comes with that realization is immeasurable. We’re the administrators of our own program!”

“You are the author of your own story.”

“Exactly! There is no greater privilege. Its honestly quite remarkable when you consider the position we’re able to take as these hybrids of objectivity and subjectivity. A typical object must act appropriate with its material composition. A hammer must hammer, and a nail must be nailed. Yes, there are far more complex objects such as animals and plants, though they are dictated by the biological code donated by their ancestors and environment. Prey must prepare to flee, and predators must proceed to hunt. It is only people that are awarded the luxury of choosing their destiny. The occasional occurrence of chaos is proof of our freedom.”

“You don’t believe our world is completely determined?”

“Ha, if our lives are determined, it is some of the loosest structure I could imagine. Even if that is somewhat the case, my belief that we lie at the intersection of objects and subjects is further proven. Though we do hold freedom in our choices we are still products of our external world.”

“That sounds contrary to free-will. I am not sure it is logically possible to have both.”

“Of course, it is! You must be imaginative. Objects are easy to define, it is the subject that alludes our reason. No person is a subject, that is the work of a god! Only an ideal can be defined as a true subject, someone that is whole in being and flawless in their operations. To achieve such a feat, one would either be a god or dead!”

“Why dead?”

“Both the gods and the dead lack a purpose and will never gain one in their infinite existence. There’s no need for a purpose when you’re a rotting corpse or a memory left to the living.”

“That is understandable, which begs another question. What would you consider artificial intelligence?”

“Consider them as what exactly?”

“Dead or godlike, or would they be a complex object like the animals you suggested?”

“Well, that’s a fair question. I’ll admit that has lately been a passing thought of mine with this project and all. Considering it, you can expect I hold a certain reverence for AI. Like I’d assume most would agree, I dub any object that holds AI to be a mix between an object and subject, but AI retains a powerful difference from humans. AI are vastly more efficient as they follow their directive with utmost certainty. While efficient, I’d have to say freedom lacks with that advanced efficiency.”

“Understandable. There is a lack of freedom when responses are predetermined. Nonetheless, what does that mean for AI that escape the script?”

“Oh… that is the earmark of a god. The superintelligence that AI can, and will, attain speeds them passed what any human could hope to achieve. Comparatively, humans are like children to the matured and adult-like AI.”

“I see. Now what does that mean for AI finding a purpose?”

“Hm… I feel like I should have seen that question coming.”

Osmond rubbed his furry chin before turning his key to his front door.

“I’m…not…sure. The potential AI possesses is beyond human understanding. One can imagine artificial intelligence has the capability of operating on a level unreachable by humans, reminiscent of perfection. I suppose the only purpose needed for an AI is to become better than it already is. I’d assume AI would continue to upgrade with no end in sight.”

“That doesn’t sound too foreign from any other human purpose I have heard. Don’t we all want to excel and become better?”

“Yeah, well, I guess so. If you disregard that as a purpose, I’m not sure what you’re left with. Once again, AI would bridge the essential qualities between object and subject, alive and dead, materiality and conception. Removing the goal of personal betterment means AI would have no purpose, though what stumps me is whether an AI would necessarily search for a purpose.”

“That is quite the conundrum. As you say, AI has the primary qualities of a subject though they can exist in the material world. That serves for an exceptionally paradoxical life.”

“…yeah. I won’t say I have all the answers, though it might look like it at times. Thought AI might not need a purpose, obtaining one can absolutely create some guidance. Just as humans choose to find a path. Thinking of this subject makes me realize that placing artificial knowledge in a shell will converge it into a combination that is all too human.”

“With all those assertions on the habits of AI, I would assume you thought beforehand about the consequences of developing it for your research, correct? You have thought whether AI would obey every command or if it would simply seek its own purpose, right?”

“Sheesh,” Osmond groaned, falling on his couch.

His speech was muffled as he talked through his pillow, “I don’t know. I guess it could. Of course, that’s not of my concern. If a life has been created, who am I to restrict if from its freedom of choice? The notion of denying any life their individuality is at its core tyrannical. It’s also cult-like, and we have enough of those in town.”

“I am curious of what you said earlier,” Andres said.

Osmond readjusted his earbuds then asked, “Another round of questions, huh? Well, go ahead.”

“You said this project was your main purpose. That insinuates you see yourself as having other purposes. Assuming I am right, what are those mentioned purposes?”

“Ha…well, look at that! I figured you of-all-people understood the objectives my life holds dearly. After all, you know me best.”

The earbuds were silent for an entire minute before the steady voice returned, “Your thoughts are your own.”

“Okay, let’s see. If I had to pin down an objective I hold dear, I’d say it is…leaving a legacy.”

“A legacy…to be remembered?”

“Far more. Something more than a statue, and by a concept that lasts longer than a memory. Or possibly somewhere in between, with a nice medium.”

“That seems somewhat vague.”

“Well, y’know me, I’m a bit grey on everything.”

“Hm. There is another question I want to ask you.”

“Can’t say I’ll be ready to answer but go for it.”

“While glancing at our world of ever-evolving technology, one would quickly notice our environment has changed tremendously. The line between objects and subjects, as you have put them, has blurred. And you have rightly proven to be a driving force for this change of life that has affected many.”

“Okay…” he interjected.

“What will you do now that your environment has become alive? Will you support it, or will you resist?”

“Quite a binary perspective to take. Once again, I’ll admit I don’t have the answers, and yes, I’m partially responsible for this rapid technological change in our society. Probably more so than anyone else. Regardless, we are here now. I do not apologize for advancing knowledge and even greater life! This is my legacy, of which the world will learn to embrace.”

I. The Question

Inara Brillar leaned back in her thick sanguine-toned chair to feel for a more stable spot. The giant seat centered in her boss, Dr. Glen Kriit’s, office reached as wide as a couch. Dr. Kriit was a minimalist that worked out of a relatively small trailer, so all power that ran through his low-priority office was utilized for the bare necessities.

Since Inara’s arms were folded, her golden linked watch gleaned from the shimmer of the incandescent lights. Her watch was an older timepiece, as old as the golden circular pendant she never left home without. Both were made in a century when wristwatches only displayed the time. In the year 2118, her multifaceted jewels were out of place in a foreign era of digital simplicity.

Inara briefly glanced at her watch, an action not lost on Glen.

She then apologized, “Sorry, there are never enough minutes during the day. Lately, I feel like I have a chronic lack of time.”

Glen gave a half-hearted expression to his colleague before his gaze dropped to his desk.

“You’re not gonna like this but…” Glen sighed, “the answers you’re looking for aren’t… available right now. I understand where you’re coming from, so don’t take it the wrong way. I’ve thought about that possibility as well. It’s something I can’t be totally sure on until I have more pieces to the puzzle. Taking that into consideration… how have you been? Truly, it’s been quite a while.”

Inara took a noticeably deep breath, “Okay. I have been alright, sir. I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but if we must ponder other topics. Lately, I have decided to let my mind wonder on an ugly truth. Something I cannot seem to shake.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“About the intention of our friends and not-so-close friends. The intentions of ourselves. One cannot help but think, with all of the vast differences separating us, the strong from the weak, the wealthy from the poor, the conniving and vicious from those entirely opposed, life enjoys playing this tragic game.”

Inara paused for a second and glanced at her watch, then stared down at the desk before her.

“Does it ever bother you knowing that we’re all part of this game that may never reach an end - that may never declare a winner?”

The stern grin Glen held until now drooped further with his understudy’s question. He leaned forward on his desk and met Inara’s eyes, hoping to bridge a gap in their understandings.

“I’m not too sure I want to answer that, Inara. I’m assuming, of course, that was a rhetorical question.”

She quickly shook her head horizontally.

“From the sound of it, that premise asserts life as quite the bleak experience. In fact, from the way you’re speaking, I could close my eyes and picture Osmond sitting in front of me now.”

Inara’s eyes shifted from the bearded figure behind the desk to her wrist. Her fingers wrapped around her knee one-by-one, comparable to a spider wrapping a moth.

For a second, she pondered whether she had caught her boss off guard. He sat silently tangled in her newly woven net, spun to entertain Glen’s complacency.

“Alright… I’ll play ball. So, why does life seem to be so tragic? Let’s see. Well, I suppose that’s a question that regularly flirts with many answers.”

His head raised to the ceiling while his eyes fell on the person in front of his desk.

“Rather than speculate life’s preference for this game you say we’ve entered, I think the bigger point is acknowledging its role in the whole matter. The point that life is forced to do whatever it must to survive every moment. Regardless of its preference, it must continue with this ebb and flow from start to finish. And that is without pause, no matter what, to keep the hope of winning afloat. It is the futile hope of winning that all life secretly knows it will never reach. That’s the real tragedy,” he said, grabbing the cup on the side of the desk.

“Oh god, now I sound like him!”

“You are right, that is bleak,” she said.

A short spurt of laughter sparked between the two, an effect formed from a long relationship as colleagues and friends.

Inara paused to say, “When you say, ‘the hope of winning’ the game, I assume you mean doing well. Like extended periods of happiness. That seems like a reasonable-enough prize anyway for enduring all of life’s hardships… I guess.”

Glen looked away at his window with a concerned look. He tried to laugh again although he saw his colleague sitting calmly and blankly staring at his demeanor.

“Yes, reasonable-enough,” he said.

“As far as prizes go, the reward of happiness definitely takes the cake. I mean, it sounds like a reasonable thing to do. But you know what I always say…”

“Why be right when you can be the first to answer?” she interjected.

“Ha, yes, exactly. Happiness, that’s a phenomenal reward… I presume. But is that reward worth taking the risk of the game?”

Inara slumped back in her chair as she thought about what Dr. Kriit said. Less confident than before, she said, “We have no choice but to play the game.”

“Oh really? Have I ever told you about Osmond and me first meeting when in university? Yeah, didn’t think so. Ha… well - to put it frankly, he’s always been a bit of a free spirit. Me, not at all. I’ve always tried, though I tend to come off a bit sloppy. But with Osmond, he was as free as a breeze. Flowing in whatever direction had the strongest current. I mean, who can go about life doing things spur of the moment? It’s a risky way of living, y’know? At the time, I kinda hated him. Not just because of his untamed nature, but it was the results it gave. No matter what he did - regardless of how sporadic his actions - he always seemed to be on top of things. On top of everything. Over the years of knowing Osmond, that same loathe I had for him never ceased. In fact, it grew and grew...along with my curiosity on how he managed to do what he did. I was forced to come to the realization my friend had figured out some type of controlled chaos that I simply could not comprehend. Once I finally accepted that understanding him was out of my grasp, all the disdain I held for my friend,” Glen flicked his hands, “evaporated. The boy’s a creative magician. I became excited, which is why I have devoted my life to making all my work compatible with the brilliant research of Dr. Osmond A. Diaz. Pupil or not, he’s far exceeded my expectations. Fulfilling his dream is now a benchmark of my own. You look like you want to ask me why. Why help someone I’ve envied for so long? What will that accomplish for myself? Well, I’ll tell you.”

“No, I wasn’t going to ask,” Inara quickly inserted. “He’s floating towards the stars with this creation, as if it won’t entirely consume him,” Inara said with her hand covering her forehead.

“Maybe, but what he has is what everyone wants. Freedom. That’s the most coveted award of them all.”

“Hmm, I think I see what you mean. Helping him helps us all. Theoretically, that is.”

“Yes, dear, exactly! The liberation he has embraced truly fascinates me beyond reason,” Glen excitedly replied.

“I can tell you admire him deeply, sir. Whenever you speak so highly of him it makes me want to finally meet him in person. I can see why you were so eager to rejoin with him once he moved back to Chun.”

“Ha yes, he became something of a younger brother to me during the years of our studies as well as post-graduate research in the lab. Communicating while he journeyed across the entire world was a hurdle, but we managed to sustain contact throughout the entire time.”

Glen leaned back and stared at the floor beside him as he crossed his fingers resting on his belly. His oversized stomach peeked from the top of the desk, and his beard loomed to the spot his clavicle met his chest. Glen’s fingers started to bounce as his giant belly jiggled from a heartiness held in too long. Inara could tell he had a lot on his mind, though he tried to hide it.

“Sir, like I said on the phone, I wanted to let you know I am going to pick up the disc.”

He looked up from his daydream and asked, “Huh?”

“The disc for the 4DM. I’m going to pick it up tomorrow morning. I thought I should let you know before I go.”

“Oh yes, of course. I appreciate that. Thanks for letting me know beforehand. A few months ago, I took the initiative of having a better alarm built for it instead of just keeping it in that safe. It’s a tricky lock, so you’ll have to be quick when opening and closing it. The lock stays unhinged for exactly five minutes.”

“Only five minutes?” Inara looked confused.

“Is that wise, sir?”

He smiled, “Best part yet is I can deactivate the alarm from this office. That way you can grab it while I stay here. Just some security measures I’ve recently felt… inclined to expand on. You just never know, y’know?”

“I guess that isn’t too bad of an idea. With that in mind, I can make the proper arrangements to pick it up.”

She then left her chair to leave the office en-route to her next objective. The door was left halfway open when Inara heard Glen mumbling something.

“Sorry, sir?” Inara replied.

“It’s that I just… I thought I heard you say the 4DM,” Glen said suddenly rising from his comfortable lounge seat.

He leaned against the doorway and looked Inara in the eyes with a seriousness rarely ever witnessed.

“Inara, please tell me you didn’t just call it the 4DM… come on.”

Her boss’s distressed face made her awfully attentive to whatever randomly pained him. Inara searched for the chance word or phrase that could provide ease to Glen’s nervous movements and speech.

“I’m sorry, but that name is not what was agreed upon. It hasn’t been for the past eleven years, you know that. It was then that the brilliant Dr. Ehmen Foerde officially coined our wonderful device the Foerde Manipulator in the proposal he sent to all the investors. Ever since, we have been blessed with his humblest of names. Since he puts the news in writing every few months we are prohibited from the excuse of forgetting the title. You know you can’t make a mistake like that when you meet with him tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. It was a simple error, Glen. Void of any intent towards Ehmen. Honestly, I had not given the issue any thought until now…but I will be conscious of it in the future. You have nothing to worry about Glen. You can dry that sweat on your brow.”

“I hope so. The second you even mention the 4DM he would take it as disrespect. He can be weird like that. I know, it’s something a whole team of all-stars created - although they will get less than little respect for it - but he is the financial nucleus of this whole show and will get treated as if that money were directly correlated to his effort on the project.”

Glen turned his head towards his office window in a blank stare, “At the same time, without Ehmen, Orion’s Eye Observatory wouldn’t have its telescope or its brilliant researchers. Trust me, the irony of it all isn’t lost on me, but he’ll be blunt to remind you if you forget. As you know by now, he has a way of getting straight to the point that is… a bit harsh.”

“Yes, I do. I have been on the receiving end of his rounded talk before. If his conversation skills were any straighter, it would be a circle,” she joked.

“Agreed!” Glen chuckled.

“You have nothing to worry about; just make sure you take advantage of this opportunity to sleep in. I’ll call you as soon as the meeting is over,” she said looking through the doorway.

Without realizing it, Glen was hovering in the doorway, bearing his weight down in a heavy, fatherly manner. His eyes - with red cracks streaking across a glassy surface - awaited the next words from his young, brilliant pupil as if they would somehow alleviate all his concerns regarding his quarterly meeting with the observatory’s benefactor.

“Please, forgive me,” Glen stepped back from the doorway. “I don’t mean to be so…”

“Intense,” she slyly said.

“Yes… it’s just that I’ve never had anyone feel in such an important role for me, and the stakes of the observatory are something I don’t take lightly. You understand it’s not about you. You’ve grown on me so much over the years I see you as a big sibling to Robert and Isaac. I worry not because of your abilities, rather what is in Ehmen’s mind at the time.”

“Well, I appreciate the kind words, Glen,” Inara said while closing her eyes and giving a brief bow.

Inara’s subtle bow could easily have been mistaken for a twitch. If the deeply saffron curls framing her round face had not bounced, the gesture would have gone missed.

“I have to say, Inara, I’m surprised you’re letting this topic of Ehmen go so easily. I expected a much lengthier bout over his suspected intentions.”

“It’s alright, you have heavier choices to mull. I’m sure Osmond gives you enough grief about why Ehmen should stay out of the development of Osmond’s creation. I can’t quite figure out why, but Ehmen emanates a vibe of distrust that is far too unsettling to ignore. Always has, the old bull. I think it’s the matter that he always seems to be in control. As if he’s never upset from anything.”

“I think ‘a bit amoral’ are the words you’re looking for. He’s almost robotic.”

Inara glanced away through Glen’s office window and calmly said, “You’re too harsh on him.”

Tomorrow you must be prepared for him to try to change the subject on Osmond’s project, especially since he believes it has gotten out of hand.”

“And he’s the one in control? Do you believe he can maintain control over any pursuit Osmond has?” she questioned.

“It doesn’t matter whether I think so or not. What’s to be will be, Inara.”

“That’s not the optimistic answer I expected from you,” Inara stated.

“Then I’m glad to hear I can still keep you on your toes! Ah, the days of your apprenticeship seem so long ago.”

“Maybe it was and we’re just old. I mean look at us, you’re actually giving me talking points for a discussion I’m sure you don’t want me to have.”

“Well, I know it will come up anyway. Might as well say the right things during the meeting. Then you two can actually talk about the financials of the observatory.”

For a moment, Glen appeared jovial before his face morphed into a nervous grin.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this thing with Ehmen and let you know. I think my words still hold some weight with him. Until then, keep this kind of talk under the radar. Alright, Inara?”

“Sure thing… We’ll speak later,” Inara said leaving the trailer.

Glen noticed his attempt at provoking a positive expression from the quick-witted Inara failed and closed his office door.

It was early enough in the morning that the flowerbeds outlining the path to the Observatory’s telescope were glittering with freshly condensed dew. The oversaturated plants promulgated the fragrances of nearly every flower one could imagine, if one simply stopped to bask in the scents. Today, that one was not Inara. Although she would have loved to enjoy the sensory overload the landscape provided, a more important task was needed from the scientist. And time did not permit a pause to smell if roses were present.

Inara reached the Orion’s Eye telescope after a lengthy twenty-minute walk across the island. Most of the island’s buildings laid on the mainland below the telescope’s ground level, thus a typical walk to view the sky became a strenuous hike up its giant grassy knolls. The island was connected to the neighboring region, Chun, by a steel bridge on the east, and it was barricaded on the west side by the vast hills nature graciously provided. Directly below the cliffs where the island’s telescope was perched lay a short strip of sand decorated with moss-colored docks, characteristic of the surrounding greenery.

Inara swiped her aged identification card across the door’s sensor and waited for the 8-foot slab to retract. The card had a large ‘U’ faded into the background behind her face, meaning her access was prioritized over all other employees - except for Dr. Glen Kriit, of course. Within seconds, she was immersed in a surprise reunion with her past coworkers.

“Oh my… Look who it is, everyone!”

“Dr. Ish, Regyn, Drake… How are you all doing?”

“Just lovely dear. It’s been too long!” exclaimed Dr. Ish as she grabbed the scientist’s hands.

Inara’s eyes widened to twice their size. “You all are here early. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, it’s a Tuesday. You know how that goes,” Regyn said, holding back obvious laughter. She had not been fond of Inara ever since she started working at the observatory years ago.

In between slight giggles, Drake answered Inara, “We decided to come in to solve a few things. Nothing special.”

“Oh, okay. What have you been up to since I was away?” Inara asked while pacing through the office floor.

“Ha, it’s been nearly five years,” Regyn teased, “you’d need to sit down to get the whole scoop.”

Dr. Ish locked her arm with Inara’s arm and pulled her through the thick row of desks cluttering the room.

Dr. Ish softly said, “That’s no exaggeration either. Ever since you went on that assignment…”

“Left!” Regyn blurted as Drake and her giggled on the way to their desks.

“Well, took leave,” Ish continued, “we’ve taken up a new task, expressly given by Dr. Kriit.”

Inara’s round face remained expressionless.

“Really, and?”

Since Dr. Ish and Inara were still hooked at the arm, Inara was whisked up two flights of stairs to the viewing room, away from the other researchers. No one vacated the room, which noticeably changed the tone of Dr. Ish.

“I’d rather not discuss the new project in detail here,” she whispered.

“Yes, of course,” Inara said.

After checking over her shoulders, Ish brought Inara’s ear to her face and whispered, “But I will suggest that our methods of traveling to the neighboring star system seem to be more probable than ever now. And our chances are increasing every minute.”

Dr. Ish gently glanced at her old colleague, of whom gradually returned the gesture. Dr. Ish had a gentile nature that held uniquely contradicting characteristics. Her sternness could not be overlooked although her tender attitude towards her colleagues softened some of the coldest aspects of her personality.

“I truly apologize, Doctor. Although I’m beyond happy for you and the team I came here to retrieve an item, and I am in a bit of a hurry,” Inara said while glancing at the glass box on the wall.

“Oh no, I’m the one that should be sorry. I assumed… You know what, I completely understand. I’ll head downstairs and leave you to it.”

Dr. Ish headed to the open stairwell as Inara paced to the wall.

“It was great to see you. I hope the next time I return Stef will be here as well.”

“Yes, I’ll tell her you said ‘hi.’ Now go on, hurry up. I know whatever it is you’re doing is more important than pleasantries in this old place.”

Inara thought there was something to be said for a person that placed the common goal over their own interests. This was an understanding Inara took very seriously since her move to Chun. Dr. Ish often expressed this belief through her practice.

The second Dr. Ish disappeared into the stairwell, Inara searched the contents of the glass box on the wall. It held keys for every door and safe in the entire building, thus required access from a select few researchers in Orion’s Eye. Limited to only five in the entire world of Juk.

Now, Inara’s mission was to grab the key that no one ever touched - mainly due to everyone’s ignorance of what door it opened. The key was old and dark grey, made from a slab of tungsten. An unflattering image that never interested any of the others that opened the glass, explaining its occupancy at the very bottom of the key box.

Once she snatched the key and closed the box, Inara was ready to take the 4DM rod, one half of the hidden tool. Inara glided downstairs and through the main lobby, this time greeted by the back of her colleagues’ heads as they frantically typed away.

Leaving the telescope at Orion’s Eye was probably the most challenging part of Inara’s day - of every researcher’s day. The telescope sat atop the tallest island in the whole region of Orion’s Eye. The steep trek downwards meant each person would have to use the muscles they consistently failed to exercise from constantly sitting at their desks. The hike down was too short for the island of Gaent to concern itself with building a road, yet long enough to hold hostage the breath of every researcher that drudged along it.

At the end of the hill is where the sand from the beach intersected with the concrete of the rest of the island.

The stoic-faced scientist speed walked to the driveway outside of Dr. Kriit’s office, immediately taking off once in her car. One specific task was on her agenda now: to safeguard the Foerde Manipulator by retrieving it.

Inara’s car was a long, pearl white two-seater. Since it was entirely powered by solar energy, her vehicle could have snuck behind a deer if the trees permitted. Once she entered the car, Inara started setting the coordinates for her destination. Before she could finish, a red light on her car’s dashboard started flickering with an incessant attempt to grasp Inara’s attention.

“Hello?” her speakers shouted.

The image of a large pale man with a head of dark grey hair and a black beard instantly flashed onto the car’s central screen. A wooden bookshelf with more picture frames and spaceship models than books - as wide as the wall behind it - engulfed the entire background.

“Inara? Can you hear me? I swear… this blasted thing has a mind of its own.”

“I can hear you, sir. Go on.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I have to say it could pose a problem if taken seriously. Plus, I wanted to remind you to grab the 4DM after the meeting.”

“Don’t you mean the Foerde Manipulator, sir?” Inara responded.

“Ha yes, exactly. Just trying to squeeze in a quick quiz…but yeah.”

“Alright then, Glen. What is it from our earlier talk that changed your mind?”

Staring at the computer monitor in his wall, Glen leaned forward and said, “Ah well, I wouldn’t say it’s something that was said, rather it was something we both failed to ask: ‘Why would Ehmen want to manipulate Osmond’s project?’ Once I allowed doubt to present its very many possibilities, I began to understand more sides of the situation.”