#kezza's journal

A cheerful hum escapes the psychologist, the day’s logs playing out on her terminal for her amusement. It was the end of an empty day on the job: only two appointments were held, and both were routine wellness counsels with long-term clients. She had even had time for an extended lunch period and afforded herself a trip to Plikter’s, where she just so happened to acquire these observation logs. “It was a humorous jest! I wasn’t serious.” “Leaving. Going home.” “We’re-- Wait, no--” It was her practice--negative, her duty to her patients that she conduct occasional surveillance on them in their lively habitats. The measure was most often reserved for the especially evasive or otherwise unreliable patients, and her most recent client certainly ranked high among them. “But-- I haven’t-- Grrrh.” “Haven’t what? …Please don‘t.” “Nothing. Just. Don’t disappear again.” Nimble claws shatter the snack-stick at its midsection, the sweet ooze-coated half crunching merrily between her pointed teeth. The asura pauses the recording, and leans back in her skelk-hide chair to study the terminal‘s freeze-frame. There wasn’t much to see, given that the golemite’s vigil was conducted from the depths of a barside potted plant; but past the leaves were fractured impressions of the asura beyond them. It had clearly been a busy night at Plikter’s, but her subject was standing in such a way that his distinctive markings were easily made out from the crowd. Tapping the more fortunate half of the snack-stick to her nose in thought, she reaches a toe to replay the last few seconds. An intrigued grin crosses her face, half-lidded amber eyes shining. “Oh, Gerik… You really are too daft for your own security, aren’t you?” The remainder of the log plays itself without further interruption, and the psychologist watches without surprise or shame to its completion. Just as she had reached to terminate the playback, a knock came from the door. She straightens her seating and rolls her eyes, “Speak of the Disaggregator. Yes, I am in here, you have found me!” “It’s me, to correct you,” came an unexpected voice, practiced and steady, though light with a telling femininity. The door cracked open, politely enough that the speaker only poked her head through. “Can you spare me a moment of your time, Psychologist?” Taqq lifts her ears and offers the familiar asura a smile, rotating the chair fully. “For you, Magistrix, of course.”

[The datacrystal sparks eerily, but seems to stabilize after some calibration. The aural playback hums to life with static, and the Magistrix's voice cuts through after a few seconds] "...unimaginable. The destruction seems almost incalculable once you cross the exclusionary zone. My instruments are reporting malfunction despite the chaos shielding and mesmeric amplifiers. …I should revise the specifications of my Magi-Ionization Polarizer to compensate for these new measures.” [Coarse shuffling implicates the Magistrix as already making adjustments. The noises fade behind an uproar of static that lasts for several moments before subsiding] “..of this magnitude. I would take it as an honor were it not for the circumstance of my position and expertise which left myself as the only viable candidate. I am thankful for it.. Administration sent this order at a most optimal time. Without their clearance, I doubt I could manufacture the opportunity for myself without lifting suspicion. Or if I even would have considered…” [Her tone steels itself] “Nevertheless, I cannot allow personal curiosities to distract from my assignment.” [Several minutes pass in relative silence, the occasional shuffling or footfalls breaking up the constant background static despite its increasing in volume] “I’m experiencing difficulty in, holding my defenses.. I-I’ve arrived at the Internal Monitoring sub complex. The mission briefing detailed the terminal access, though I’ve not observed anything meeting the given descriptors.” [A sudden pause, lasting longer than the Magistrix seems to account for. She continues as though the pause was absent] “There is a visually obscuring brume in this wing. It’s physicality is irregular, sometimes giving the illusion of moving figures, at once appearing both colorless and saturated in red violet. I hypothesize it is responsible for the dysfunction of my instruments, as well as the onset of disruption leveled against my mesmeric defenses. I’ve just re-verified my coordinates and determined the reroute. ETA, six point seven minutes.” [A loud rush of static strains the aural playback, threatening to cut the recording. The Magistrix’s voice re-emerges after no more than four minutes, though the static muffles her] “Location confirmed. I’m accessing the terminal now.” [The distorted beeps and key presses come through sharp and jagged] “Excelsior! Objective met; now translocating data files to personal storage crystal and eradicating target directories. All firewalls re-enabled, security measures set to reinitialize at disengagement.” [Dulled footfalls and an irregular buzzing occupy the background of the static. Briefly held rhythms to the noise are reminiscent of conversation, and the Magistrix‘s voice stammers under the interference. Despite auditory distortion, anxiety is evident in her tone] “Primary objective complete. Queuing secondary coordinates to approximate navigation.. Maintaining mesmeric shielding at seventy-four point two percent. Reporting systems failure on tertiary projection amplifiers.” [Another pause as she seems to consider the situation. The static scratches and strains the playback.] “The Inner Chambers, ETA thirteen minutes. I cannot afford hesitation.”