>> OPEN GO SAEYI’S FILE …
:// AGE — 26 :// OCCUPATION — bartender (con artist) :// CLASS — elysium native
>> LOADING DEVELOPMENT …
:// MAGIC — Â
minor personal magic—minor luck reversal. the odds tend to start out slightly in her favour, with her marks having been a little more unlucky ( and vulnerable ) than they usually are—her version of good fortune. of course, what happens after that is up to the players of the game.
:// MODIFICATIONS —
communication link: a neural implant codes her brainwaves into written communication which interfaces onto a retinal display. this connects to others who have her specific radio frequency, and vice versa. the neural implant can be flipped to code others’ brainwaves into written communication if within a half-metre radius. the communication link is activated by blinking twice in quick succession.
autonomic arousal sensors: sensor implants in her index and middle fingers that measure the electrodermal activity and heart rate of another person when in full physical contact with them. these are voice activated with the phrase, “do you trust me?” the data is transmitted into a retinal display that codes for heightened autonomic arousal.
transcranial magnetic stimulation coil & inhibitor: neural implant that emits short bursts of magnetic energy to stimulate a positive mood in another person. this lifts mood and may affect motor and cognitive functions if within a half-metre radius. the inhibitor prevents the magnetic energy from affecting her, but prolonged use will overwhelm the inhibitor to induce the same effects in her. excessive use will result in spasms and lightheadedness and in extreme cases, seizures. the coil is voice activated with the phrase, “how do you feel?” and switched off with the phrase, “i’m happy you’re happy.”
holotattoos: a series of constellations ( cassiopeia, cepheus, andromeda, perseus, pegasus, cetus, auriga, lacerta and triangulum ) that run from the nape of her neck to the middle of her spine.
>> LOADING BIOGRAPHY …
( a survivor ) the girl looks barely fifteen and she’s shivering, paper thin in winter. you think of your eldest and your heart goes out to her, buying her a cup of hot chocolate and gently reprimanding the cashier who’d tried to chase her away. when you ask where she lives, her face crumples. your heart bleeds. you offer to take her in and she refuses it, but you see the bright hope—you think it is—and you insist, holding her hand when she cries properly and tries to find the words to thank you. your partner is confused but welcoming when you bring her home, and your children take to her easily; she is another mouth to feed and you barely have enough as is, but you cannot throw this girl to the streets. you are tired, overworked, but never resentful of your children, striving to give them a better life. she blossoms under your care and you are proud of her, this girl you think of as a daughter, who’d overcome so much hardship to become a fine young woman more than elysium deserves. she’s almost eighteen when she leaves, and she doesn’t look back.
( a specialist ) she’s impressive. you hate to admit that this young upstart whose qualifications sound too good to be true deserves to head the research and development team, but she does. her ideas are inspired and idealistic, biotechnology for healthcare that’s been conceptualised before but you’ve never seen someone come up with an actual design to develop it. it costs money, of course; this sort of experimental tech always does, and your company is hemorrhaging cash from buggy innovations and faded fads you tried to develop. but she’s insistent and she says she wants to change the world, that this is the sort of tech that could put your company on the map and solve all your fiscal issues. it takes almost a year and multiple loans from your own account before you see any fruit, right before you decide to shut down her programme. when she offers to be the first to receive the modifications, wanting to prove that her tech works, you don’t think twice to support her. she’s put on a two week recovery for the tech to take to her. she takes the patents for her tech and moves away within those two weeks, and your company goes under.
( a sweetheart ) you’ve just met, but she pulls you to her, a magnetism you’ve never understood and don’t think you can. you’ve never been in love but you love her, you think, her fingers against your pulse point warm and inviting. it doesn’t matter that you’ve known each other for only a week. you see how people are drawn to her, somehow; she has a knack for collecting strays and you think it is her bleeding heart that you love, her willingness to take care of the vulnerable. at night, she tells you her story: elysium born, second daughter and not useful enough. anger swirls in you but she calms you down as always, leaning her forehead against yours and cupping your face as love washes over you. “we’re happy,” she promises you, “we are. i’m happy you’re happy.” and you are—at least, you think you are. you feel bereft and gloomy when she’s gone, the feeling of something wrong kicking at you. you never gave her your details, but she loves you, so she has them. she tells you not to but her eyes linger on trinkets shinier than you can afford, and you dig yourself into a debt to make her happy. she smiles at you, thanks you, and takes her happiness somewhere else.
( a swindler ) there are whispers of another. you brush shoulders with her every now and then, the competition obvious in a smirk and a wink as she snatches your marks from you, as you slip her marks away into your own pocket. you see the way she takes people and holds them in her palms, squeezing contortions out of them like malleable gold; she pushes people to the precipice and espies the exact axis at which they fall. her jobs are impulsive and gaudy, eye-catching with no thought, you think. you work against her, taunting and teasing. her reputation hides your presence and you take advantage of that; she’s given the credit for some of your work and you seethe. it’s a double-edged sword, and elysium isn’t big enough for two con artists as ambitious as the both of you until it ropes you two into a unit. now you work with her, but you’d never trust her as far as you can throw her.
