‘What!?’
Procurator stared at his screen for a moment and leapt out of his seat to begin pacing the room furiously. The captain’s mind raced, trying to fit together the facts that had just been made apparent to him, desperate to find a pattern, solve the puzzle. His new job as Chief Archivist for the Glitch Society – a position assigned to him by d4sh by way of a punishment for his failure with the RITA project – left him with little time to go about his usual duties in the Matrix, and to an extent he’d been left out of the loop, picking up whatever he could from the mostly irrelevant documents that passed his desk. Just now he’d been scanning the Machinist communications channels for the latest reports.
‘The–, the sheer audacity!’
He lashed out to his side and sent a mug of cold coffee flying over his work station and into one of his many consoles. There was a crash, the machine let out a few hopeless sparks and died. Procurator stared angrily at his own mistake for a moment, then sighed. He turned again and left his room, bound for the broadcast bay.
Flare was leaning back in her chair in front of the operator’s console, paying little attention to the code analysers before her, which were focussed on the rest of the Aggregator’s crew. They’d jacked into the Matrix for a quick drink. Procurator had had to take a rain check, the first of many over the next few weeks. As he entered the large hall, she looked around at him and put on a cheery smile.
‘Hey Proc. All good?’
He seemed not to hear her, and walked up to the communications hub next to the screens.
‘Proc?’
‘No I’m not bloody alright!’ he growled, turning briefly to give her a withering glare. ‘Hand me that headset.’
The operator looked taken aback, but didn’t waste a moment. Her captain was rarely this angry, but she knew how he could get when he was. She certainly understood why he might be in such a mood: another strain of abscedosis had made its way through Zero-One, knocking out a good few operatives, including some members of the Aggregator. Frotee was in the Zero-One medical bay being treated, so Procurator had been forced to requisition a stand-in for the time being.
Procurator took the headset from her and placed it over his ears. He looked at the code on the screens for a few seconds, just to make sure his crew was there. ‘Listen up you lot.’
‘Evening Proc!’
‘Coming to join us, Captain?’
‘Party’s over. We’ve had a development in the Cypherite camp, and I don’t bloody like it…
‘Aiyalla and Jamicus – watch them. Closely.’
Nelks rose from the bench as Aiyalla darted away down the alley, apparently late for another meeting. Her step was telling, she ran with purpose, a vigor Nelks hadn't seen in her for a long time. There was a spark in her eyes that night, every tear burning with purpose, the woman was hope incarnate that evening.
Their meeting had been unusual, but then again, what was usual in the Matrix? She was no longer a Cypherite, but her recent change of heart was ironic to say the least. "I will watch as Zion burns. Then, we will all sleep." - Nelks remembered her words precisely, yet here she was, a Zionite now. Je ne comprends pas.
Nelks chuckled to himself at the situation. If he had told Aiya this is where she'd be only months before, she'd have laughed him off. Nelks, out of concern for her safety, had offered her entry into The Codemasons, but he knew deep down, she felt her true calling elsewhere. Was it the right choice? Je crois que oui.
"We all have a destiny M'lady, a purpose. We are notes in a grand symphony, nothing more. All of us, no matter how different, are the same. Only perspective chages." Nelks closed his eyes and listened to the "music" around him. The code sang, and reassured him. "I hope you find what you're looking for Aiya." - Nelks whispered the words to himself as she dissapeared from sight.
"Au Revoir, mes amie. Bonne Chance."
Recall the Code.
Believe in the Code.
There is no other Truth.
