Rheinland, its always had a more frequent history of asking the question of what people want more than money. To base a beings personal worth down to the amount credits that they have seems to defy the logic of the universe to me...
You... You ever think nomads even have a system like that? I've thought I've met enough at this point to even think that they do have... Uh-- No. Its messy, the only way I can think this correctly in my head if they were like a... Meshed isolated network.
[Amused laughter, but slowly reducing to a questioning err as he attempts to start his next sentence; coalescing thoughts interrupting him.]
A meshed isolated network with a decentralized data system... Sure, Its like saying servers are bigger, faster and more knowledgeable than clients when they obviously reach a point of data capacity; within relation to AI learning skills. Individual AI's? Sure, easy as can be with access to indisputable data sources... But amongst each other? Would you think they'd argue because they've been right for so long and reliant upon a method of calculation that when a new data source comes along they instantly declare it anomalous? Or would they actually take time to compare, contrast and calculate to potentially work out a more suitable solution to a potential problem, or simply just to learn about something...?
Now the part that I said to myself is if... what if that was some sort of framework to understanding more than just AI's... Whatever this is, doesn't need to be restrained to a synthetic origin. The Sirius has taught me early on that I have been condemned to the emerging horrors it contains and be-- I don't know. Something? It gives me a choice of Shoot or Talk and both tend to try and kill me...? W-Why?! I could be sitting in a skyscraper! Sipping on a vintage Gaul Bandeaux paid for by corporate sponsors and massacring rebellious underpaid workers because they hoped for just a little more in there lives... And I wouldn't lose even an ounce of sleep over it. Yet every bit of me would consider such a being irredeemable, a propagator of unjustly resource wars and silencer of mass populace progress.
Someone-- In hindsight that probably wasn't just one being behind that face... They told me I had to "Stop doing it for the sake of proving yourself, because that was merely just a meager bonus in the greater scheme of things." I laughed it off, figured I aimed to be impressive to climb my skills and career like the most devoted in my craft; young ambitions turned lethal when its spoon-fed to you.
Humanity of Sirius has encountered so many space faring and sentient species in the last 30 years that were getting close to not being able to count them on our hands... Now we have a new complication that could take that all away, all of us, indiscriminately; Sentinels is what Revenant called them.
While word by mouth doesn't seem to kill us, the mimetic and psionic prowess of these things exceed that of the K'hara or Vagrants. Trying to apply human diplomacy to this seems futile to say the least but we all have to make compromises in negotiations... But again dealing with 'living weapons' it usually takes a lot of bloodshed to get that far. Apparently even recognizing these Sentinels in their true form causes some sort of mental and life force elimination... I've heard whispers of Earhart, the graveyards that loom there and what relics people have hauled for themselves, maybe I need to visit there and see what this deathtrap truly hides about this malicious ancient race. But I believe I'll need to make a risky move... I'll need some advice first.
[Exhaling a long and staggered breath as the rubbing of fabric rustled in the background, along with a harder tapping of the heel of his foot is heard, rhythmic in combination.]
I've never dared to take a step like this when it comes to talking to something instead of shooting them up, and usually that person is a human... Usually. Because in the end I realized the one I trusted the most without even doubt.... wasn't. Every inch of my skin feels like its wrapped in spider webs as soon as I even try to think about it, yet every muscle in me moves without even the slightest hindrance to my will; can't deny that I am desperate enough to do this, even if I am repulsed by it. I have the facts in hand and I need to speak to the Vagrants, information is the key she left me.
Fuck me, don't let this be my Pre-KIA log, I don't want this at my funeral.
