Chapter Four: Founder of Thebes August 25, 2008
Posted by yamikuronue in Uncategorized.Tags: Ares
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“You’re up, kid.”
Cold. Empty. Lifeless. Irrelevant. Ares never found much use for the toys they gave him, nor took much enjoyment from the food they gave him to nourish his body. He merely did what was expected of him, and no more – why waste the energy trying to excel when all he needed to do was remain adequate and his needs would be fulfilled? Play, they told him, would build the proper neurons, and so he dutifully played with the toys they pointed him at for a few hours a day, until they told him he no longer needed to. When they hooked him up to the testing machines, he likewise completed his tasks, but they soon bored him as well. There didn’t seem to be much in this life for him. Not that he minded much. Why bother speculating on some grand purpose when there clearly was no point to it?
All that changed the day he met Prometheus.
Prometheus was towering, gleaming, and utterly unlike anything Ares had ever known. The bright red and gold paint caught his eye in a way nothing in his short life had – and so did the feeling of power and awe inspired in him by merely standing in the machine’s shadow. When he slipped inside of the machine, it felt like coming home – the chamber was warm and comfortable, and he felt something click in his mind as he reached out for the machine. As he closed his eyes, he felt a warmth surrounding him, almost like an embrace; instinctively, he reached out, and the machine moved, as responsive to his thoughts as his own body. A surge of joy went through him as he left the garage, and it wasn’t long before he was running across the landscape, his cockpit providing the life support to allow him outside the biodome and into the more hostile atmosphere, the large ringed planet filling the sky as though smiling upon his newfound joy. When they encouraged him via radio to test out the missiles, he happily complied, laughing in delight as boulders exploded into so much dust.
Since then, Ares lived only for the moments he spent inside Prometheus. He gladly did anything asked of him, and when they hinted that it would lead to more time with his best and only friend, began to excel, slowly surpassing every benchmark with more and more confidence. He began to spend his extra hours training his body, so as not to let down his new friend when the time came, and to ask questions in the hopes of further developing his skills. Life was still cold, empty, and meaningless, but now some small part of it held relevance, meaning, and warmth. It wasn’t such a bad life after all.
Subject 002 notes: Subject seems to be developing emotional attachment to his unit. Despite this peculiarity, subject has easily surpassed 001 in testing. It is my personal assesment that the subject will be ready for missions within six months.
Chapter Three: Virgin of Delos August 23, 2008
Posted by yamikuronue in Uncategorized.Tags: Apollo, Artemis, Greg Dawson
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“Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s men…”
“Bake me a cake as fast as you can!”
Thirteen year old Artemis giggled a little, which was an odd sight, considering her body was currently some four stories tall, made of various metals and plated in Adamantine. Still, the long, multi-segmented fingers covered the vaguely humanoid head, about where the mouth ought to be, as the giggle found its way out through the airwaves, encoded as it left her mouth and decoded as it reached the headset Apollo wore. The giant structures ran through the empty moon, leaping over boulders with the same ease that they had shown in playing patty-cake. Despite their massive weight, the figures – Helios and Selene, properly – moved with the same grace and agility Apollo and Artemis sported in the gym. By thirteen, the simulator practice had been more than sufficient to boost their synch rate above the 80% figure needed for live practice in their units, and their workouts in the gym had worked their muscles to the point where their brains expected whatever body they were controlling, via muscles or kinetic power, to respond rapidly. Selene, under Artemis’ direct control, turned a cartwheel to prove her response time, while Helios watched carefully, relaying all his cameras saw to Apollo’s perch in the cockpit.
Disappointingly to the researchers, neither twin seemed to care much for the onboard weaponry. Selene had been outfitted with a handheld crossbow capable of firing beams of blue light at long range, and Helios had been outfitted with a similar weapon that fired yellow beams. Auxiliary weapons had yet to be implemented, primarily because the twins seemed entirely uninterested in combat. As the handlers had feared, their contact with each other had led to a tight bond; they much preferred to spend time with each other than in training, and seemed content to merely play around so long as they were together.
“And you’re certain they’ve further potential to be reached?” asked the Director, for what must have been the fifteenth time that month, watching the screens.
“Their teamwork will be essential for joint missions. If I can just motivate them properly… they pass all their test with flying color, and have surpassed all the benchmarks we set out for them. Trust me, they won’t let you down.” Gregory Dawson, the twins’ handler, was nervous as he spoke, but he managed to refrain from fidgeting with the collar of his shirt as he spoke. The Director didn’t appreciate weakness, and with several of the mechs running over budget, rumor had it that there were hard decisions to be made in the coming weeks. As always, however, his words seemed to fall on deaf ears – or rather, mute mouth. He was certain that the Director had heard his words and were taking them into account, but the hard woman rarely spoke of her plans before they went into action.
Please, thought Gregory, Please don’t let them terminate my babies.
Subject 003-4 notes: As always, the twins continue to make progress by leaps and bounds. Today’s test went better than expected. Synch levels remain above 87%.
Chapter Two: Patron of Delphi August 23, 2008
Posted by yamikuronue in Uncategorized.Tags: Apollo, Artemis
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“Hiya.”
The alarms sounded in the relevant places, the red lights flashing – escaped subject! Subject 003 had gone missing from his playroom! At the age of three, the subjects were just beginning to be a handful – but for the most part, their careful training and rigid monitoring systems had not failed them. Each subject was kept to three rooms in the compound – a nursery, a playroom, and a testing chamber – and each set was kept carefully separated from the others, lest they contaminate their training. Each’s schedule was carefully monitored and tailored to their developing personality – so how had the male escaped?
Frantic, the researchers and the subject-handlers teamed up, each taking a radio and a clipboard, turning the compound upsidown all but literally. A missing subject was a stage 1 alert – the subjects’ budding telekinesis was just enough to cause trouble should they get into the computer rooms, or worse, the construction sites. It was almost an hour, however, before Subject 003 was discovered – in Subject 004’s playroom. The female subject had managed to open the door from the inside to let him in. The worst had come to pass – contamination had occurred.
The researchers and Subject 003’s handlers met in whispered, hurried conferences. Should both subjects be destroyed? Should the others be relocated to prevent a calamity? Meanwhile, Subject 004’s handlers carefully observed the pair, ready to step in should their baser instincts get ahold of them and one or both decide to eliminate the foreign threat. To their amazement, it wasn’t long before both subjects began cooperative play with Subject 004’s learning implements.
Subjects 003 and 004 notes: Subjects have cross-contaminated, thus rendering much of our planning irrelevant. Subjects shall be kept together to pursue this interesting development. Other subjects shall be moved to separate, auxiliary facilities. Plans adjusted to account for the new developments.
Chapter One: Lady of Athens August 23, 2008
Posted by yamikuronue in Uncategorized.Tags: Athena
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“This isn’t good.”
Thirteen-year-old Athena didn’t need to hear the rest of it; she turned back to her blocks, concentrating. From the bed, she didn’t have such a good view of the tower she was building; with a gesture, the tower lifted and rotated, blocks swarming around it like silent insects to swoop in and reshape the leftmost wall. Slowly but surely, the castle grew in midair. She inspected it from every angle, using every last block in the box, but however structurally sound or impressive she made the building, it couldn’t block out the words bouncing around her head.
“This isn’t good.”
What was that emotion in the handler’s voice? She wasn’t certain. Her studies had told her of emotions such as worry, fear, and nervousness; the way his tone was low, she was certain she had not been meant to overhear, but she had. Had his throat been tight? It was hard to tell from the three words. Perhaps his eye movements would give her more information. They had darted towards her then rapidly away, a movement often associated (said her textbooks) with guilt. But why would he feel guilty? Perhaps it was sympathetic guilt? In any event, the handler was not to form emotional attachments to the subject; whatever this signified, it was a new development, and Athena was not pleased.
“This isn’t good.”
There was one thing about the statement that left little doubt in her mind; she was certain to what the handler was referring. She didn’t need printouts or access to her charts to know she’d been failing tests quite consistently for the past several units of time. For a moment, she turned her intellect to her own behavior, studying the castle critically. Perhaps she had built it from across the room to prove that she still could? Her synch levels might be low, but she at least had not lost all kinetic ability. Sighing, she set the castle down gently before laying on the cot, her eyes going over her surroundings once more, taking comfort in the familiar white walls, the two-way mirror, the recessed lighting. Soon they’d come to take away the blocks and bring her the food. Yesterday was chicken, so today would be meatloaf, green beans, mashed potatoes; then it would be time for physical training before sleeping. After a sleep period, the lights would automatically turn on, and she’d be given her liquid breakfast to ensure she got proper nutrition. Then she’d likely be given more tests with the simulator – there was no sense working with the real thing with her synch levels plateauing.
What if they began to drop?
Could that be what the latest charts said?
Subject 001 notes: Today, the subject appeared restless, and had difficulty sleeping. Perhaps an illness is causing the recent decline in performance? A full physical scheduled for tomorrow.
Prologue August 23, 2008
Posted by yamikuronue in Uncategorized.Tags: Eva Mendell
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The sound of high heels clicking on the tile floor echoed down the sterile hallways, bouncing off the metal tables, ricocheting off the glass test tubes, and rebounded off the impersonal computer terminals before fading to an inaudible level. The place wasn’t abandoned, but it might as well be for all the joy and liveliness within. There was, however, an air of anticipation and excitement as the researches huddled around the holographic display.
“Would you look at that,” said one, voice drenched in wonder and amazement.
“She’s a beauty,” agreed the other, slightly less amazed.
“We really did it.”
“You doubted?”
The moment passed; the researchers got back to their job, running simulation after simulation. The clicking of heels continued, leaping off the floor towards the clipboard, the white lab coat, the no-nonsense glasses, before heading out to bounce off the white, sterile, hospital-like walls, finally hurtling through the open doorway to dance around the incubators full of fluid, in which a dozen embreyos Nature never designed rested, awaiting their chance at life.
