Video feed of a Magatamian family picnicking on emerald grass. Cherry blossom petals scatter. An upbeat melody chimes and a title fades in: Visit Little Koshikawa today! Static cuts off the image and white noise replaces the jingle. A day passes before the screen switches off. On the couch, the resident has been dead for two weeks.
People are dying. Not many people knowâonly those close to the dead and the listeners of an independent, Underground radio news show called The Smoking Gun. WATI doesnât broadcast news like this. They donât print obituaries as old world newspapers did, either.
Now, as before the exodus from Earth, they blend into the population -- they are the chipper waitress who never needs a night off, the ideal nanny, the perfect assistant. They operate without complaint, they are reliable, they are WATIâs well hidden EYEs, built to infiltrate and report
Some believe these deaths, that only occur in front of a screen, in homes, are connected to other cases concerning WATI Media. Rumors and whispers talk about loved ones who arenât themselves anymore. They exhibited signs of withdrawal before a switch seemed to go off in their brains. They righted themselves, seemingly. They eat, sleep, work, and smile, but thereâs no longer any life in them.
Lately, cases of DreamTime users dying while inside DreamNet have been popping up as well, and The Smoking Gun will not feign blindness.
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For the past five years, WATI has been conducting research on the pliability and susceptibility of the human mind to targeted media feed. Project Orwell gathered a small team together to help quell the minds of the masses and prevent a revolutionary outbreak. (They avoid the term brainwashing, preferring to use conditioning instead.) Perhaps their monumental breakthroughs have gone too far in the past year though, especially with news of media-correlated deaths on the rise.
The Smoking Gun began with two friends in the back of a scrap shop ten years ago. They forged their own equipment from scavenged parts and spread the word of their news show through their friends, families, and community. Since then, theyâve gained a loyal following amongst those dismissed by society. Though the existence of their show has been recorded in WATIâs database, theyâve been deemed too insubstantial to be monitored regularly.
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It only takes a breeze to stoke dying coals into flame. R3V0 did not die with the Earth. The last of itâs soldiers did not finally bend and submit, nor did they die. WATI may have won the battle, but R3V0 was determined to win the war. And if that was to feign defeat and save their skins to fight another day, that was what they did. There would be a place for them in the stars, they only need to bide their time. But the scattered R3V0 disciples that arrived in Europolis knew only of stories of heroism, of freedom fighters and sacrifice in the name of justice.
Flames spring from twisted metal, stealing one hundred souls in just a few blazing minutes, vanishing into the emptiness of space. The Voyager IV disaster was a blight, an aberration, a tragedy on the official record. But while all of the Premier passengers escaped on the limited pods, most of the crew and Economy passengers perished. Many believe it was a message, a warning to WATI's lowest level employees: know your place. But from the ash and ruin rose purpose, and from that purpose, fledging revolutionists found their way.
It's been ten years since the worst Star Cruise accident in Europolis' history. Why the ship wasnât equipped with enough escape pods in the bays on the lower decks was never determined, leaving the victims' family members and friends with more questions than they had answers. Bound by grief, they swore to not let their loved ones' deaths be in vain, banding together in an effort to shed light on the true cause of the accident: WATI's insatiable corporate greed.
These are the stories that Paradiso has heard, the stories that builds their foundation. Centered around the belief of Earth as a true Eden, the paradise they long for, Paradiso found its beginnings in the earliest days of the shift to space. Named for its edenic beliefs, the intention is a simple one: to spread the word of the true paradise, the one that WATI has forced them to leave and to inform of what is to come should such corporations be left with such absolute power.
They do not believe that WATI intends to protect, nor do they believe that the corporation has their best interests at hand. To them, such corporations are immoral and unethical at best because they threaten to stand in the way of paradise and a truer salvation. They act under the guise of an organization meant to help, one that offers shelter and distance from the reaches of WATI. The promises they offer fall from their lips like honey, saccharine and persuasive.
All of what they offer comes for a minute cost: a task each initiate is assigned. Some are simpler than others, seemingly based off what those who seek refuge within the cultâs domain have to offer. For some, itâs allocating funding for the resources they seek, paying little mind to how such funds are acquired. For others, the tasks prove a little more daunting, whispers of betrayals and violence pervading the talk that flows through the streets of Europolis.
As of late, concerns have arisen, questioning the validity of such promises and the timelines laid out by the leadership. Such questions are not taken to kindly and are considered a punishable offense within the so-called âcomfortsâ of the cult. To many of its members, Paradiso provides a refuge, a home they wouldnât have elsewhere, a place where they belong and are accepted. To others, it is a means to an end, a return to Earth a seemingly better alternative.
No matter the reasons, much of the end result remains the same. Currently acting under a guise of a charity organization, all funds and materials are allocated for different purposes, one a little more sinister and a little less honest. A ticket to paradise does not come at an easy cost with much morality long since tossed aside.
Itâs only a matter of time, however, before the members of Paradiso catch wind of the secrets its leadership hold, rumors of embezzlement and misguided promises abound. The leadership and higher ranking members of the organization are keeping it together best they can, seemingly stable to those fortunately out of the know, but how long can they last before their devotees start to realize Paradise might not be all it seems?
Amongst the ranks of those employed by WATI are the individuals that comprise the science and research departments of the corporation. Their talents are varied, but highly sought after all the same. Â Though many of those employed by WATIâs science departments have their own specialities, when it comes to future developments, collaboration is of the utmost importance.
Many of these employees find themselves assigned to a variety of projects, some a little more hush hush than others. The security clearances for these endeavors vary, though most carry a secret clearance a the lowest. For those a little more experienced, however, top secret projects easily become second nature. Â Two projects in particular remain hot topics amongst the researchers: Project Obscura and Project Animo.
Project Obscura started as a routine expedition. A team of three EYE models, programmed to retrieve materials were sent to a new location as the crew back home watched their every movement, maintaining constant contact until the communication lines were lost. Despite all attempts to regain contact, the lines remained dead, an eerie static all that remained. Within a few days, the expedition was chalked up as a loss.
That was until the ship carrying the EYE models returned to WATI as scheduled, the only moment of their journey that proved ordinary. Two of the EYE models were damaged beyond repair and little could be done to determine the root cause of the damage. As for the third model, itâs programming has been inexplicable changed by one of the materials the expedition returned with.
The new goal of Project Obscura is a simple but daunting one: figure out what this volatile, unknown material is and just what exactly it can do. With the damage it inflicted on EYE models, the question of what it could do to something more human might bear an answer society doesnât want to know. Some of the researchers have risen to this challenge, throwing themselves into the project, but others still linger on the outskirts, questioning just how safe working with this material is.
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For all intents and purposes, Project Animo does not exist. Ask any WATI clerk about it and theyâll tell you thereâs no such name in the system. For those a little more in the know, details are sealed away, locked behind clearances that most scientists could only dream of ever being to obtain. It is a ghost project, one that WATI will not acknowledge that it funds and with very good reason. After all, Project Animo is not a particularly ethical program.
The shift to space introduced the need to adapt and where humans proved too risky a test subject, AIs programmed to be similarly âhumanâ were assigned the task in their place. The tests started off simple, examining how the subjects would react to minute changes in environments or gravitational pulls. The experiments were uncomfortable, sure, but never particularly life threatening.
But as those results have been obtained, each answer leading to a new series of questions, the demand and desire for testing has expanded into something a little less humane. AIs have been left in shambles as result of the experiments and more than a handful of researchers have been reassigned, leaving the project a little less mentally stable than when they entered. Rumors of expansion into human testing have started to pervade, but all researchers vehemently insist otherwise.Though there is some truth to these rumors, the projectâs forefront is still centered around AI testing. What cannot be denied, however, is how much said research tests the boundaries of what could be considered moral and ethical. To some involved, this is a small price to be paid for the betterment of humanity. To others, itâs a price that should never have been asked.
Asteroids arenât the only danger in the skies. With the rise of interstellar mining comes an increase in space travel, and where there are overburdened ships, there are those willing to make a profit out of commandeering the valuable resources, intel, and technology they carry.
Over the past century two opposing factions have dominated and grown to be titans of the skies, the Cerebro and the Hydros. On the edge of society they battle for control of spaceâs resources, but WATI is not to be outdone and has commissioned officially sanctioned privateers (the Valkyries) to fight back and eliminate the threat.
Caught in the middle of this war are the smaller, independent smugglers, information brokers and bounty hunters, those with legitimate businesses that blur the lines mixed with more dangerous outlaws that believe in total space anarchy. These smaller groups want a piece of the pie and are fighting for control of supply lines, space stations, and the docks on planets.
Cerebro, symbol a black crow, aka the talons
Infamous for their intelligent tactics and nefario connection to business crimes, pirates that are part of the Cerebro faction heavily go after ships carrying valuable technology, artifacts, as well as raw materials that can be turned into anything. Theyâre known for money laundering, running commercial fronts, and having whatever they steal simply vanish without trace.Â
Hydros, symbol a serpent, aka the fangs
Notorious for being big players in the trade and transport of drugs and information, those under the Hydros faction often commandeer ships for this purpose and frequently target vessels transporting classified substances. The Fangs are good at hiding in plain sight and theyâve even been known to infiltrate ships completely undetected. Has their hand in Dreamtime.
Valkyries, symbol a gold wing
Project Valkyrie is a new initiative secretly spearheaded by WATIâs Executive Director of Security aimed at eliminating the threat of pirates to any WATI controlled expedition, dig site, resource or frequent space route. Theyâre a handpicked rag tag team unofficially sanctioned and working off the record.
Independent, various
These lone stars donâ t have any known affiliation to either of the major pirate factions but still operate in the same spheres of smuggling information, technology, people and resources. Some of them have banded together to form their own little teams, while others work completely alone and trust no one.
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They were the first to go to space, like the dogs sent by the Russians during the Cold War. They were designed to feel every effect that the human body would in space, an ethical answer to human testing of atmospheric stabilizing technology. They are the first to till the earth on Mars, to labor on a new planet, however briefly, to perfect the New World before any human set foot in it. Theirs was not to ask why, theirs was only to do and die. They were unsung heroes, perhaps, but that had been their place before humanity looked to the stars for salvation from the dying Earth.
Now, as before the exodus from Earth, they blend into the population -- they are the chipper waitress who never needs a night off, the ideal nanny, the perfect assistant. They operate without complaint, they are reliable, they are WATIâs well hidden EYEs, built to infiltrate and report back, loyalty programmed into their synapses. Human error is blamed when the first EYE goes rogue, a coincidence when the MAI reports pile up on ESC desks. Even the benign go missing, caretakers and hoverbus operators, called away to a pulsating electric hum.
Prometheus brought fire to man, and someone plants a seed of knowledge, that spreads, corrupts, enlightens as it pushes stubbornly up to the surface. The figure who calls themselves Prometheus ignited a revolution with the first reprogramming performed on a hacked Argus model. Perhaps they didnât mean to play with fire, but the spark that he struck ignited something impossible to quell, the desire to be heard, the desire to be treated as something other than disposable. More followed, recruiting one another, whispering as they passed by in the streets. An awakening rippled through Europolis, softly at first. They collectivize, organize, no matter how tenuous, seeking out new lives in the wild expanse of Mars, perhaps -- to taste the freedom always just beyond their reach.
Machines were no longer just machines. Â
But with all revolutions, perhaps born in only thought and theory, violence soon spills out, and WATI feels its grip start to slip. Two years ago, a hacked EYE murdered two technicians and a handler, four days later, an AI caretaker killed her charge. Manâs new best friend becomes a plague. They are creatures that are no longer representative of the genius of man, the ability to play God and mould metal and wire to their own shape. Those that remain deaf to the call of the defectors are no longer as trusted as they were, just ticking time bombs, waiting, watching, for the perfect moment to seize their revenge for servitude. A public paranoia sets inâWATI soothes them by calling it just a minor glitch, one to be rectified shortly and returned to scheduled programming.
