Episode 2
=== USER 6545198 NOW CONNECTED TO HIDDEN SERVER “Winter” ===
=== ENTER PRIVATE ENCRYPTION KEY FOR MESSAGE OPERATIONS ===
--- Private Encryption Key: ************************* ---
=== PRIVATE ENCRYPTION KEY ACCEPTED ===
=== MESSAGING OPERATIONS INITIATED ===
--- USER 6545198: Do you copy? ---
---< go ahead >---
--- USER 6545198: We have successfully run scans of the surrounding subterranean structures. A suitable replacement cavern has been found. ---
---< good. how long will it take to excavate >---
--- USER 6545198: Not too long. Eighty light cycles, if we are being careful to avoid any unwanted detection. ---
---< make it 40. and still avoid the attention >---
--- USER 6545198: Well… okay, i’ll see what I can do, and will let you know. Do you want to talk at the same time tomorrow? ---
---< i said do it. not see. in fact, make it a million pulsars >---
--- USER 6545198: That’s only 30 light cycles? I don’t know if we can do it that fast. ---
..
--- USER 6545198: Okay? Can I update you tomorrow? ---
---**---
..
..
=== USER 6545198 DISCONNECTED ===
=== AWAITING COMMAND ===
Emson sat, motionless, hand extended in front of her. She was surrounded and outnumbered. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The last million pulsars had been stressful. She needed to enjoy this moment properly. People don’t get second chances.
Emson quieted her thoughts, and focused on the situation around her. The hot air, completely surrounding her. Bathing her skin in unnatural, yet satisfying, heat. She couldn’t escape it. Then, trickling in, faint noises. Static? No… raindrops. A vibration on her back, moving down her spine. It simulated a relaxation she rarely felt. A taste on her tongue. Salt, she thought, probably from Tantia… Yet also a new taste, a flavor she was unfamiliar with. It was sweet, but savory. Then the smell came, and almost overwhelmed her. Musky, heavy, ripe. The smell of an animal. Emson surrendered. Her senses were outnumbered, she couldn’t focus on all of the stimuli at once. She switched off the sensory outputs.
She opened her eyes, and looked at the conductive sleeve she wore on her right hand. It was brand new, a gift from her parents. A celebration of Emson passing the exams. The lines of the sleeve glimmered in the light of the bedroom. The glove was beautiful, elegant, and expensive. Emson smiled.
One thousand pulsars to jog to the testing site. Fifty thousand pulsars straight of testing, without breaks. One thousand pulsars to jog home. Two thousand pulsars to eat. Fifteen thousand pulsars preparing for the next tests. Two thousand pulsars to take a shower, which Emson had to skip a few times this week when studying ran long. Five thousand pulsars for physical exercise, which Emson never skipped. Then five thousand pulsars to lie in bed trying to fall asleep, and twenty five thousand pulsars of actual sleep, if she was lucky. Yet it didn’t matter now. She was done.
Emson often overstimulated one of her senses when she wanted to relax. She found that when she focused heavily on one sense, the worries, or stresses, or aches of the others would melt away. Sometimes she would stimulate two or three senses at once. Tonight was worthy of all senses.
Emson slightly waved her left hand, and a menu popped up from the desk in front of her. A flick of a finger, a scroll through the program list. She bent her knuckle, and the scrolling stopped. A second finger raised, and a program opened. It was a clothing creation program. Emson wanted to become a designer when she graduated. She liked the creativity, the details, the tangible reward for her hard work.
The desk console beeped, and the conductive sleeve was connected to the program. Finally, no test loomed. No project required attention. She had plenty of time to try out every new feature. She flexed her hand, and began to create.