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...reconnected to host...
...resolved conflict: neural relay
...session resumed
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.4"
>... They Knew. They DATA CORRUPTED. The Scanner triggered it. >... Attaching discovered data: >...DATA CORRUPTED. >... Need to DATA CORRUPTED. lure away from DATA CORRUPTED. Immediately. >... Running. >... They are still DATA CORRUPTED. >... Need to. >... Reach. >... The.
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...input.acknowledged by user [Revenant]
...unpausing log session
...session resumed
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.5"
>... Safe. For now. >... The cracks remain. >... Slowly crumbling away. >... ... >... I do not understand. >... No one was present. >... Only the Sentinels. In waiting. >... System. Devoid of life. >... >... For now, I must rest. >... I can only pray that Harbinger holds up his end of the deal. >... This thrilling quest of curiosity. >... Yet it provokes thought. >... What is it all for? >... >... I could not retaliate. >... Of thought. Nor action. Nor aggression. >... I felt powerless. >... To fought would have been suicide. >... Perhaps a certain sense of weakness is necessary to flourish. >... >... >... >... The Shrine is eeriely quiet. >... The Garden is still. >... Yet... Something feels off. >... Different. >... The rooms have changed. >... Sensation that someone was present. But there is nothing. >... Yet despite this void. >... The same certain sense of vulnerability remains. >... But... >... I don't feel watched. >... The voice behind my mind. >... It has been rather quiet. >... Did something happen here?
...input.acknowledged by user [Not-Available]
...log session corrupted
...session restored
...Missing Neural Entry: bef#rej#urney.0 - "Edm#nt#n Research Facility"
>... Thirty. >... Thirty times we reached out. >... We reach out and wait. >... ... >... Same result. >... And it taunts us back. >... Again for thirtieth time. >... ... >... Thirty. >... And one. >... One more time we are reaching out. >... ... >... >... >... ATTENTION: JUMP GATE % MALFUNCTION DETECTED >... >... ...
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...unknown.error detected.
...recovering files...
...re-streaming data
...connected to neural relay
...log session resumed
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.6"
>... Here we are. >... The corridors endless. >... ... >... ... >... ... >... Not a single soul. >... ... >... There was a room. Gravity conditions are lower. >... Empty, devoid of life. Yet remains of what appeared to be a study room. >... A bag. Hidden beneath the stack of chairs. >... There was no identity. >... Curiously. >... There was only a book. >... A journal of some sorts. >... ... >... ... >... ... >... ... >... Words indecipherable. I cannot discern any identity or belonging. >... The pages are burnt. >... Glimpses of remnants remain. >... It reads: >..."They are --- Last place --- Here --- The Or--- " >... >... Respectfully. >... I returned the book to the bag. >... Perhaps one day the true owner will return. >... >... For now. >... I will appropriate the room. >... To study these crystals. >... An improvisional workbench is necessary. >... Dissecting my secondary side arm. >... The laser optic will suffice. >... Adjustments necessary. Wouldn't want to melt it. >... Rigging up a primitive solution... >... Very rough. >... But it will have to suffice. >... Pouches are indeed handy containers to house some tools. >... >... Attaching image data: >... Hm. >... It would have been prudent to obtain some resources to keep upon my ship. >... But I cannot but wonder. >... What are the Sentinels truly? >... Biology. So similar to the K'Hara. >... Yet it does not operate as they do. >... It almost appears it reacts to the hyperspatial plane. Back in Kepler. >... The Endless void. >... Just like the Vagrants. But unlike them. >... Adapted for anything. >... Everything. >... Cannot get a stable reading. It changes. Morphs to the environment. >... It appears far denser than -
... environmental sensor warning: gravitational anomaly detected. current readout: 0.4g
>... ... >... Feeling... >... Unusual. >... Unburdened by flesh. Lighter. >... Gravity seems to - >... What did -... >... ... >... >... Audibles active. >... There was a voice. >... ... Beginning self inner dialogue. Documenting process. >... Secondary side arm unavailable. Primary available. >... Waiting two cycles before proceeding with perimeter sweep. >... >... Would not want to walk into a trap. >... Perhaps I should become the trap. >... >... Assessing this scenario... >... Statistically, breaches and entries are psychologically prone to investigating the most open space of the room. The right. >... Awaiting by the ceiling corner. >... >... >... >... When six cycles pass. >... I have to focus on the materials. >... >... There it is. >... The voice again. >... It is further. >... But I hear no footsteps. >... Or rustle of material. >... Enigmatic. >... Initiating wait and see protocol...
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...input authorised by user [Revenant]
...log session recording...
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.7"
>... Six cycles concluded. >... No further activity. >... Can't hear them. >... >... For now. >... Returning focus to the sample. >... Need to adjust the scope on the set up. Out of focus. >... Creating a reference file to refer back to upon.
... connected to occular subsystem. encoding visual data... beginning stream
The occular implant fickled on, focus fizzled into the screen of the video stream as the static faded out, the optics calculated for a moment, adjusting for light conditions within the room. It displayed the perspective of Revenant through her implant, occasionally displaying some biodata on screen from the medical band implented within her body.
The image feed just barely came to life with the occasional glitch on screen, showing the improvisional set up of a kit-bashed microscope, partially restored to a working condition. It was composed from an amalgamation of recycled components from scrap electronics, mirrors and tools. Within it, was a holder, a miniscule faraday cage of translucent metal containing a large crystalline chunk, malformed by previous battering from energy weapons. Scorch marks remained upon it, discolouring the structure of the crystal where the burns imprinted, leaving it in a bruised depressed tone of a lethergic deep blue. Surrounding this little crazed set up, some of the folded tables have been repurposed and ultimately dissected, the screws removed from the hinges, leaving the surfaces stacked up like a pile of pancakes with the table rods neatly placed in a clean row besides it.
To an unfamiliar eye, this little scenary could be easily mistaken for a set up for improvisional bomb. The feed changed as she glanced around, revealing the enigmatic innards of the ancient alien structure. The strange semi organic metal, contorting, twisting, almost organically within the room, yet there was always an out of place element as the previous residents attempted to adapt to the conditions of the ethereal station. Humanity was never able to survive within low gravitational conditions without assistance, whether it be physical or mentally. Remnants of such attempts would linger as an apparition. Whilst relatively empty, the room would feel displaced. As if something were to be there. That something was there, remaining outside the grasp of the cognitive perception. But there was never truly anything there in the material world. Perhaps it was a simple trick of the mind, or the mirage of the lights playing with perspective.
Silence still subjuguated the feed, yet there was a subtle droning calmly humming within the far distance, a distant flowing beat. The station, itself, was almost alive in nature, filling the corridors with the reverberation of its warm celestial heartbeats reverberating throughout itself.
Tranquility broke for a moment, as she monologued out to provide insight to the study process.
"Sample - X.B - S - Oh Oh Seven. Origin of material... Kepler. Estimated two weeks ago. Unknown designated X-B warform. Classified as the Sentinel subhierachy, this sample was retrieved from Nenet. Husk appears to have suffered entropic plasmonic atrophy to the structure. X-B-S-Oh-Oh-Seven was admitted to azure-microfilament light treatment in attempt to preserve as much fidelity as possible on the internal structure by providing it some synthetic ichor to facade vitality. "
There was a pause as she adjusted the lens.
"Preservation methods utilized for Xenobiotic materials appear to not match the nature of these specimens. Rather than it absorbing the ultraviolet treatment, the sample appears to have simply rejected the experimental stabilization process. Perhaps the A6 Azurite compound is required for stabilizing the material, however, alternative solutions may involve C-...Cuh -- C-C-C..."
A sudden lapse in thought, a mental ice age ensnared her head. For that brief moment as the affiliction took hold as a mental storm raged on within her mind, looping the previous thought over and over like a mad chant. However, it quickly left as soon as it came, interrupted by a thud in the distance as if someone just tripped over in the hallway. Raven jolted awake in alarm, quickly yanking the battery out from the sketchy set up to disconnect it with haste, taking a leap conveniently assisted by low gravity to the organic doorframe in vain effort to catch up.
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...writing session...
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.8"
>... Needn't be distracted. >... Someone. >... Or something. >... Here. >... Playing with me. >... >... I do not have time to play now. >... >... Or perhaps it is I. >... That desires to play. >... The mind is a dangerous tool. >... >... I want out.
... connected to occular subsystem. encoding visual data... beginning stream
A reluctant sigh was had as Raven swivelled around on her heel, marching back to the desk with the improvisional study, slumbering down in the chair.
"I suppose this place is just messing with my mind. " Heaving out a sigh, she idly pondered about the situation. "Would be optimal to get a second opinion on this. No way that I can build another friend here with these parts. "
Lifelessly prodding the junk that remained on the side, she leaned back, thinking for a moment. Usually, she would have an entire workshop and neural network of minds to work upon projects, but within the Shrine, there was nothing but the inner conscience of her crumbling mind, and her voice. As well as the supposed guest running around.
Leaning forward to take another glance at the samples, she noticed something. An inconsistency. They had changed, showing an entirely structure and hue to the core. As if it had just evolved within the span of three minutes. She leaned back, taking a look around the alien room, pondering if another mind trick is being played upon her psyche. A long and winded admittance of confusion was had as she idly examined around,
"O-ookay..."
Uncertain as to what is taking precedent, she began to slowly undo her set up, returning the bits and bobs back to the carriers. Picking up each piece felt heavier each time, gradually building up over time. As light as a feather, to heavy as an anvil. Physical lethargy started to settle, slowly drifting away to unconsciousness. For a moment, she almost gently went with the smooth flow, until a moment of realisation hit. She wasn't tired a few minutes ago, and the room had changed in hue, something was around. The air changed, gravity became more intense. That something that wants to play, as to what it was, remained an enigma.
A sense of urgency came over, the innate desire for survival, as a third sensation of desiring to flee crept up upon her psyche. The bird wanted to fly, to get away, the Shrine was no home to her, only a safe haven to get away from the Sentinels. But it was no shelter from what would remain upon there. Despite the urgency of needing to return to her ship, she left the dissected components by the table out of regard for whoever was present before, in hopes of not aggrovating whoever may have been there - for them only to return to be table-less.
Taking a step through the doorway, she took a moment to remember the direction she came from, only to be interrupted by the cracks forming once more, gradually becoming louder and louder as it boomed into existence, acting as a mental barrier for thought.
For a brief moment, a shadow had dimmed the walls, flying past her down the other end of the hallway. Stumbling in confusion, she turned around as it went down the left corridor. Blinking rapidly, only realising now that the doorway she had come from had unexpectedly vanished entirely and replaced with a wall, she rubbed her eye, trying to determine if it was reality or a dream.
Reaching out her hand, she felt the cold smooth surface of the structure, feeling that it was indeed there, the dense yet lightweight metallic surface felt genuine, but there was no indication of change, nor weakness, only the gentle hum of the station could be felt through the vibrations. She knocked twice, hearing that the wall wasn't hollow at all. The wall echoed her actions from afar, beyond the presented surface, a deep thump from the other side returned.
Knock knock.
Redacting it with haste, she shook her head, swivelling to the left, taking a prolonged blink to mentally ground herself as she retreated with stoic distress, pacing away down the hallway. After a few steps, she opened up her eyes, revealing that the environment had completely changed, now presenting itself with a labyrinth of organic corridors, veining on endlessly, remaining entirely indistinguishable in nature as they flourished onwards within the station.
" ... Wh-...at. "
A distant metallic groan was had, as if something was shifting, creaking under duress, synchronizing its tension with the flow of the stations heartbeat. Quickly looking between all the exits, she brought up her datapad, determining if there was a magnetic field to use as a compass. Unsurprisingly. There was not. A sough of a sigh was had, accepting that trouble may be coming. Raven debated on a direction to take, she gazed at the entries, making a brief but hazed calculation. One path was lighter, yet one was darker. Another seemed taller, yet another seemed smaller. Straight. But narrow. Twisting. But turning. The options seemed endless. Half-heartedly, she went with the path that contained the light, hoping it would at least indicate some form of sense of direction.
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...input authorised by user [Revenant]
...log session recording...
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.9"
>... Twists and turns. >... >... They're never ending. >... >... I want out. >... >... I have to get out. >... >... There is a voice around me. >... All around me. >... Following me. >... >... Something is wrong.
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...input authorised by user [Revenant]
...log session recording...
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.9"
>... Falling. >... Flying. >... Ever going down. Ever going up. >... Left. Right. >... Around and around. >... >... The loop never ends. >... >... >... I heard a word. >... Thirty. >... ... >... Thirty-One. >... Then nothing. >... Distant murmurs. >... The world is revolving. >... Corridors contorting. >... Evolving. >... Yet always the same. >... Space is an illusion. >... >... >... Must push on. >... >... >... Resist. >... Or. >... Adapt.
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...input authorised by user [Revenant]
...log session recording...
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. 2.9"
>... Hours and hours. >... Days and days. >... Running from the voice for eternity. >... >... Must not F̵̹̹͗a̵̎͜͝l̷̫̉̚t̷̩̐͛e̴̘̅r̷͇͉͛͠. >... >... >... >... >... >... The looping is inevitable. >... >... >... The voice behind. Always following. >... It laughed. >... Yet it did not show. Maybe it never will. >... ..̶̟͛.̴̟̾-̴̳̄ ̴͇͗ ̶̻͋I̷͔͑ ̶̦̏c̸̱̄a̶̟̍ǹ̵̠n̶̛͖ǫ̸͊t̷̞̂ ̸̙̌-̶̪̆-̶̟̃-̶̬͑ ̴͖̑I̵̫̎ ̸̝͛c̸̨̔a̶̼̋n̶̡̎'̷͈̑t̶̬̋.̵̲̐ ̶̨̋ >... I cannot continue. >... Defeats must be ȅ̸͎x̴̫̽p̵̖̀ẹ̵̽r̴̝̀i̸̅͜e̶̡͐ṅ̶̜c̴̟̔e̷̡̍d̴̬̑. From time to time. >... I eagerly a̷̳̐ẉ̵͐ä̵͎i̴̟̇t̸̞͑ ̴̫̂ẗ̵̪ŏ̴̙ ̸̬͊s̸̛̜e̴̲͗e̵̙͘ what may arrive. >... Fadi̷͖̍ņ̷̈́g̶̕ͅ away... >... I want to see. >... Who follows. >... What follows. >... Growing weaker. >... Slipping into a dream.
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...writing session...
...W#it#ng N#ur#l En#ry: fi##lj#urney##.6 - "E#sing T##sions Pt. ####"
>... Drifting... >... I saw a figure. A shadowy one. >... A man. >... Slowly coming into view. >... Wait. Is that.
...FATAL ERROR: Host suspended.
The madness endured for what appeared to be an eternity. The endless twists and turns of corridors, evolving, changing, churning around, would go on for all time, no matter how much one would wonder. Giving in to the mind games, Raven slumbered down, surrendering to fatigue, as they drifted away into a cumbersome rest of defeat as her unstable mind collapsed in on itself. For a fleeting moment, the illusion broke, as a brief notice of a caraspace of glass and metal was presented infront of her, before drifting into an involuntary rest.
The virtual world they resided in was a masterful coy of prying into one's inner psyche, though to say who was truly playing the game here had yet remained to be seen. With a fine push here, and a gentle nudge there, even the enigmatic observer indulged on some playful entertainment, studying the buttons they could press within free realm from fatal consequences. Yet, it was not the only sole factor. The Technocrats have been utilizing the virtual world to similarly study the subject, tweaking elements discreetly to invoke psychological morphing. But in this instance, they found the anomaly of the looping hallways to be an unusual error, a fault in the prediction or an unknown external influence. The program was pulled, paused, invoking the user into stasis as the program was tweaked.
Stiffling within her forced rest, there was a brief moment of confusion within Revenant, a sort of lethargic deja vu within the blank landscape of an endless void, encapsulated within a dream she was forced into. The error of the looping environment was amended, the false reality ensued again, with the subject waking up on the floor.
It was cold. Very cold. Far colder than initially presented in the first iteration of the experiment. Upon awakening, it was notable to Revenant that the environment presented itself to be a little more stable. Albeit, more dimmer in shade. It was like a terrible nightmare, the after effects of groggily waking up lingered as she observed around the corridor she found herself in. With a sigh, the world continued on, pushing herself up and gradually waltzing off to the Hawfinch. Interestingly, the items within the ship had re-arranged itself, yet it was not taken note of and simply disregarded as another mind trick, focusing on the intent to return to the frozen world. Home.
...
Time moved on within the virtual, unbeknownst to her yet a certain awareness of oddities remained. Liberty maintaining cohesion, the repetitive social conversations with her new found friends, the lack of chaos with a human touch. Day after day. Night after night. The wheel of repetition moved on and on, the same old awakenings in the Spire, the same old slumber by the chief security, Ornis, as they lazily watched the security feed. It was a mad loop of drab living. No unusualities. Too much sense. The same soulless machination of danger or flight. Not a single individual with any quirks or deviations.
Revenant found herself days later, conversing with Vincent Abrams in a cordial manner in the Hudson system, speaking regarding about planning a hang out. A certain element of awkwardness was still present with both of them, the reality presented sincerity in the expressions, keeping true to the real world, more than enough to continue the facade. Yet, fond talks became sour quickly, as the casual chat was disturbed by a mirage of vessels, shimmering into existance not too far off from the Research Station, decloaking with belligerent intent, their motion sweeping towards the facility.
The situation became blurred, another vessel decloaked behind the two, panic and chaos had ensued as the scenario unfolded. Not only did the Order come to attack, but so did the elusive Sentinels. Yet, something regarding them looked wrong. Distorted. Akin to molded dark glass with lightened tips as opposed to the usual illuminating warm glow.
Nevertheless, the disorientating madness progressed, for the illusive warship behind her crumbled apart before she could identify it. Confusion and disorientation amiss, only one thing was certain. Vincent was connected to this, for he was both their target, the glue that held the psychdelic chaos of gunfire that surrounded them. A moment of calm only to be disrupted by insincere madness of conflict unfolding within mere minutes, was truly abnormal to her.