Name: Martine Desroubins
Born: 693a.g.s, New Paris (776 a.s)
Marital status: Married / separated
Appearance: 5’ 9”, 130lbs, masked eyes, jawline scar, Described as a ‘handsome’ woman before the ‘accident’; now with obvious burn scarring around eyeline.
How to begin ..? Well, one will dispense the past quickly.
My parents were smart, academically, they sent me to a good school; I saw them half of the time. They treated me well enough; when they noticed me, and provided for me amply. I graduated from school and began working for GMS, then went on to solar engineering; where my work on system interfaces and integration was taken to new levels. Solar engineering is (like any system-wide corporation) segregated by division; communication between labs is essential for a project to progress; some divisions were less than sporadic in those communications. At times it seemed we acted completely autonomously from the main body of the corp. Other times we had royal dignitaries with vague titles, watching us like hawks; silently scrutinising our work. Working as separately as we did meant that we didn't actually know what we were working on, we could guess at the cause; but no project information was forthcoming, save for the requirements and demands of our own piece of the puzzle. Myself and a team specialised in neural interfaces; we worked out different ways of interfacing a machine with a human brain; with varying levels of accuracy, feedback, and cerebral stimulation.
After years our first project was complete, and, still ignorant to it's use - our invention was shipped out to be assembled with other unknown pieces to form some machine that required a neural interface, and, I might say: a very complex and hard driven one at that.
As the work progressed, the work became more than questionable, but what else could we do but continue? Some of the data we dealt with involved subliminal hypnotic suggestion algorithms, designed to trick and disable, rather than give true sight into a system. A few of wondered who we were working for, as the political climate nurtured dissent.
It was during our second project that I met my husband Jacques, a fine officer in the GRP. After a short while we were married. It was in 716ags that I gave birth to my adored son Pierre. Time went on, and Jacques became absent more frequently, until (after years of uncertainty) I confronted him. Jacques had joined the disquieted ranks and fallen in with the council; it was then he began to tell me about the crowns plans for the great war, the existence of Sirius, and the minefield. Our son was young still, and I could not afford to endanger him, so I promised Jacques I would keep my mouth shut and made him promise not to die on me. I continued my work at S.E. 730ags: The labs were quiet, a long day of squinting at data; making tiny alterations had taken it's toll as I wandered the complex. After losing myself along unfamiliar corridors, I heard a yelp, which lead me to a theatres' door, ajar. A child was strapped to a stretcher, erratically writhing, their head shaven and punctured by hundreds of electrodes connected to a mainframe i/o. I rushed to the childs side, seeking to ease their pain, disconnect them somehow. The mess of wires and archaic setup confused me; not knowing which components were safe to disengage: I looked to the security camera emploringly. In my shock I tried to reassure the child, but they went limp, unresponsive; as if suddenly in a coma. Suddenly, security filled the room, headed by a well-suited drawn faced man.
"Don't touch that equipment!" he barked, and belatedly added "..please Madame Desroubins, we don't wish to harm the child any further, as you can see this is a very ..delicate procedure."
"any further?!" I hissed. "This child needs a hospital, now!" I growled at the stone-faced stranger.
"I suggest you speak of nothing you saw here Madame!" he snapped, as I was dragged struggling, from the room.
I spoke to my husband of my concerns that night after pierre was tucked safely in bed. Jacques was deeply concerned, and promised to look into it. For days I couldn't sleep properly, and at work it felt as if unseen eyes were fixed on my every mundane action. A week later there was an accident in my lab, A 'minor-explosion' in a line on one of my workstations, sent a gout of flame into my face. I lost the use of my eyes. The pain was searing, pervading my very bones; forcing me into darkness.
I awoke in hospital, Colleagues came to visit, I asked those I could trust, to bring a few things from work, so I could get back on my feet; much to their suprise. I was compensated by S.E, and a lady came to express their apologies and "upset at my traumatic accident". Jacques was wrought, suspecting foul-play, he was often on his way somewhere when he came to visit. Months went by, as the council made their plans, my friends and I began work on my new eyes; that would not be fooled by the tricks i'd help create: eyes that would not only see, but analyse.
Time wound on, my wounds slowly healed. Jacques came to visit saying that he thought he was getting close, and marvelled at my progress. He often brought pierre to visit, and that disquiet of being absent from my family, helped fuel my work in my own project.
In the July of 730ags (814as), my son fell into a coma, whilst hooked into a network via a ‘holo-tainment’ band (something that I had helped evolve): I was wrought and sick with grief.
As I began my own investigations into what had happened, I suspected my employers. Jacques made his own enquiries in his own way; often returning home with fresh bruises and scraped knuckles. We became more distant, as the conspiracy consumed us; we were united by this one quest above all else; shattered individuals bound by loss.
My work was a little different than my husbands; after painstakingly crafting my own interface rig, I was finally able to use machines again. It was as if an iron veil had been lifted; I could walk around the house (remotely using the house systems to 'see') without trouble, I could submerge myself in data streams; un-encumbered by the use of screens: the direct neural connection let me weave through terra-bytes in nanoseconds, and I could even fly again. Lacking eyes, I see more of the electromagnetic spectrum now then ever before. And so digging for data I went. The company seemed suspicious of my activity; but said nothing; merely re-assigning me to rendezvous with researchers on the borders.
I signed my resignation after a few weeks; when I feared discovery by my colleagues. We liquidated our assets; had our son put into the best care possible, wished his sleeping form sweet dreams, and followed our trail back out to the border systems. Jacques helped me get out of the core, and set me up with a place to live, as he was called away on another mission. A lot of my time since has been spent with those who are less-than-thrilled by the Kings increasingly ruthless agendas, and I have to say; a lot of their ideas appealed to me; it wasn’t long before I was figuratively taking my husbands side as an agent of the council. We fought at the battle of Montpellier, which is where I lost contact with Jacques, when my systems were damaged. Then came the divide; I had now lost contact with my son, my husband, and everyone I knew in the core. Fighting out here against the arrogant navy and corrupt police, has been a constant struggle with little reprieve, yet we go on for the sake of our loved ones.