Prologue
I'm not sure why, but a faint smell of vanilla always overtakes my senses when I'm stressed. I'm far from a betting man, and certainly no neuroscientist, but if I had to wager I'd guess it's because of the sweets my mother used to bake. A gentle aroma wafting from the kitchen -- from the fudge. Calming.It's not as though I'm terrified, but, well, there's always a risk associated with this. The technology is relatively new and there can be... complications, in the jumps. Logically I know; I tell myself each time that the risk is minimal and that Houston will be able to counteract any Geo-spacial variance. No matter how I look at it though, I have trouble trusting it -- him. A natural bias, I suppose.
The halls of the archaeology branch are so spotless these days. It almost feels like a hospital. White walls, white floor, white light. Even the way my footsteps echo. I know it's because of the teams bringing back relics or tomes, the facility needs to be sterile, but it just reminds me too much of my recovery. I don't know why I keep putting myself through this. Well, I suppose it's because I don't have much else, and these discoveries can be... rather exhilarating. Plus, I need to keep my image.
"Good. You're here." A gravel voice from in front of the ARIC as I approach, punctuated by the whirring servos of a camera adjusting. A man I know well. An old classmate -- Gunther Hatner.
I give a curt nod in response, worried that if I speak I may betray my air of confidence. Looking at him, he's got a well trimmed beard, long enough to jut out from his jawline, and peppered with specks of grey. His sharp face is punctuated by various wrinkles and tanned marks. Aging hasn't been kind to him.
"Hello, Jehv." A smooth and monotone voice comes from nowhere in particular. Must be Houston.
"This is your first jump since the project, right?" Gunther rumbles, shooting a sideways glance while tapping the doors terminal. There's an artificial bell, and the door begins to glide apart.
"That's correct." is the first thing out of my mouth, but I pause and try to shoo away my nervousness.
"It's been a long time, Gunther. I didn't really expect to see you here. How long have you been in the archaeological branch?" I try to keep things casual and remember our relationship, but it's been over twenty years.
Gunther lets out a rough chortle.
"Yeah, well, you could'a called. Been here about twelve years, could'a gotten you in sooner if you weren't having your fancy corporate job at Friegsons. You look like shit." He says with an obvious light in his eyes.
I roll my eyes gently, taking a few steps, and slip through the door with him.
"Speak for yourself. Enjoying that grey?" I say through the din of other mark briefings in the information hub of the branch -- the Advanced Relic and Information Recovery Command, or ARIC.
"You've got some yourself, you know. Either way, we can catch up later, right now it's my job to brief you on the mark. Houston, put the info up." He speaks up near the end, and cleans up his speech. Some of the near-by workers notice and quiet their off-topic discussions.
I quickly scan the room. I haven't been to the University since the remodel, and it's surprising how much work they put into making this place feel open despite being subterranean. There's artificial sunlight beaming from the ceiling. Windows to a world that doesn't exist. It's a long room, filled with terminals and tightly packed walls of monitors. The balcony I'm currently on is only about five feet from the floor, but there's only one stairway down. We slowly approach as, on the opposite wall, a large monitor springs to life, proudly beaming an image.
A towering white pillar surrounded by lush greenery and park walkways. The banks of windows on the building reflect light into the camera, glinting unwaveringly. Some kind of school? On the ground there are waves of people walking into the tower, and many sitting around with bags, reading books on park benches.
"Incorrect. It is a library." Again, Houston chimes in, but nobody responds. I'll never get used to that shit. I know that's just my bias, and that synthetic persons have all of the rights that we have, but it's still odd.
"I will choose to take that as a reluctant sign of affection, Jehv. You did choose to work with me." Is it just me, or is he getting some smug satisfaction out of this.
Gunther moves to terminal in front of the monitor. I say in front, but it's really several meters back. He begins tracing his finger on the pad, and tapping away. The image on the main monitor swivels around, and shows a large concrete lot.
"Right. Jehv, you ever get to the library? I guess they're pretty much all virtual these days. Your first mark on the job is a library in AER-TL8-394. We've done preliminary drone recon and there shouldn't be any issues in evolutionary biology -- you won't be sticking out. Well, except that scar, huh?" Gunther jabs the back of his neck with his thumb, flashing a toothy smile.
Reluctantly I put aside me feelings on the touchy subject and simply nod. It's not that he meant ill, and I know that, but that was out of line, even if we used to be dorm mates. I crane my neck slightly to peer at the monitor, and -- are those diesel vehicles?
"Affirmative. The technology on AER-TL8-394 is roughly equivalent to what current Earth had a millennium ago. Please, do feel free to show off your newly acquired knowledge and prove my usefulness." Houston, blunt as ever. I guess it could be useful for some things, having you able to speak like this.
"So, breathable atmosphere, no unknown pathogens, and no need for camouflage?" I turn to face Gunther, crossing my arms in annoyance.
"This isn't the first time I've done this." I clarify.
"Natürlich. There is protocol here, but, well, if your new partner pays off I guess there's no problem with speeding this along. We all know your track record, too." Gunther swipes the terminal and the monitor switches to an estimated blueprint of the tower and surrounding facilities.
"You'll be setting in here. It's a lot to store their vehicles. It's connected to a main thoroughfare, so be careful about any traffic; there shouldn't be too many complications, there's only a field on our end." He continues, zooming in on the location.
"The entrance is about three hundred meters away. There's a soil path that leads to it, with a paved walkway around the main facility." As he continues, I half heartedly listen, and simply try to memorize the layout.
Hey Houston, what's the target in this mark? You know, right?
"The University believes that there may be applied knowledge on the transfer of energy between elementary particles. More specifically, the entropy created and how to re-distribute that energy manually."
Isn't that something we already know? I vividly remember around a decade past, there was a big uproar because of it.
"While some revelations were made as to a more precise estimate for the complete redistribution of energy, and eventual cessation of life, there was no complete understanding of how to manipulate the created entropy. The only point of agreement is the posit that regardless of what humanity (and subsequently your children,) do, our combined entropy weight is infinitely close to zero."
"So, as long as you maintain the act of being a foreigner, there shouldn't be any issues. The nation of Ghalet itself has very loose law in regards to tourism. If any danger to you is imminent, we'll jump you back. Nobody here wants to lose you, or your precious brain, Kamerad." Gunther finishes off, walking towards me and giving me a pat on the back. Does he think he's being reassuring?
"He is your boss. Humor him."
I try to give my best "I appreciate that," and smile, but I have a feeling it looked forced.
"Affirmative."
Well.
"Okay, Jehv, let's get you into the prep room. You'll need to head to the sterilization chambers, then the pressurized operations room. Just follow me. Everything else will be marked on the walls when we get there." Gunther starts to walk off, leaving me to trail behind him.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Archives (working title) is a small kinetic novel by a (currently) two man team for the NaNoRenO competition. It revolves around a man in a library, as he tries to come to terms with his recently acquired partner and the fact that his life has been systematically taken apart, piece by piece.
Progress
Concept: The concept is mostly done, although things are still being fine-tuned while both the script and art progress.
Art: Character concepts are mostly finished, moving on to background art.
Script: Writing is progressing smoothly, should be the first thing done.
Music: We currently have no musician, so unless there's any volunteers, we're using royalty free. Please, feel free to message us if you're a musician looking for a team!
Team
Writing/programming: Visiden
Art/GUI: Grimaasi
Progress
Concept: The concept is mostly done, although things are still being fine-tuned while both the script and art progress.
Art: Character concepts are mostly finished, moving on to background art.
Script: Writing is progressing smoothly, should be the first thing done.
Music: We currently have no musician, so unless there's any volunteers, we're using royalty free. Please, feel free to message us if you're a musician looking for a team!
Team
Writing/programming: Visiden
Art/GUI: Grimaasi
WIP Art
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Oh god why are you looking at this?
Please stop oh god.
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