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Emet
It's a bit like the introduction to the old Doctor Who, that first bit there. Where all the senses transition from the crash bed that surrounds the body to the experienced reality that surrounds the mind. Briefly, everything is shadow and darkness, and then the idea of one's eyes begin to adjust the idea of light.
Tommy will become dimly aware of not having been standing in the pilot's ready room adjacent to Landing Bay Three. And perhaps will remember the moments prior to appearing here. But piecing together the intermediate moments will no doubt prove rather difficult in short order. Here stands Tommy, apparently alone, standing in the middle of the ready room. There's a podium at the front of the room, screens behind that on the wall, and a theater of seating ahead. For mission briefings and the like, no doubt. The overhead lights begin to click and flicker alive, sensing the presence in the room. There's a sensation of popping ears as life support kicks in to move the air again. The room seems to welcome Tommy's arrival, for whatever that's worth.
The sound of a hangar bay is audible outside the bulkhead. Voices calling, machinery plodding about, engines whirring. Tommy was assured the locals are friendly enough, if not entirely known to be trustworthy yet. But, of course, there are risks. Cambyses sent a memo asking for a report to be given based on Tommy's observations, which is no doubt also her way of suggesting Tommy's carrying more than curiosity along with them. Like the reputation of the caucus and her faith in Tommy's ability to handle sensitive matters with intelligence. No pressure!
Bones
Tommy was not a novice at the astral realm, as a disciple of the mind, but it wasn't their specialty. Their form looked like truly androgynous blend of their most noted forms. Their clothing fell upon them like the Safari explorer's robes with their satchel and pockets full of potential. Their eyes were bigger, full of wonder.
As they materialized in the Astral Realm of the Ready Room, they summoned their journal and pen, as well as their knives, wand, and flask. They tucked hte items away and made sure their control on their previous spells was still running.
Emet
The room continues to breathe, filling the air with the faint scent of ozone and cooking dust. Outside, the bustle of the hangar continues. No klaxons are blaring, at least, so that's a positive.
Bones
Once the spells were determined to be in effect, and all the gear stowed, the Obrimos took a deep breath and advanced to the door to open it.
Emet
The ready room opens onto an antechamber just off the side of the hangar itself. To the left is the all gender head. To the right are doors to what looks to be some sort of transit lift. There are dashed and colored lines on the floor with numbers and letters that no doubt mean a great deal to the locals in terms of floors and sections and such, but to the uninitiated are data without proper context and nothing more at the moment.
Red lined paths on the floor head over the dividing line between the antechamber and the hangar proper. Yellow lined paths lead to the lift and the head and the room you were in, only. Again, this probably means something. Each color also has a different length to their dashing. A concern for the colorblind, perhaps.
Beyond the dividing line, in the hangar proper, a large mechanized robot is lumbering about, carrying what is perhaps mined ore, or a meteor, or something similar. There's a small crew of deck crew motioning with lighted batons and walking along at the feet of the massive robot, directing it and its payload to where it needs to be. Nobody really seems to pay Tommy's arrival any mind just this minute.
The closed bay door has the phrase 'Breathe deep before opening' painted on it in cheerful bright yellow letters.
Bones
First, Bones studied the lines, and then looked for any sort of chart that detailed them, leaning heavy into Universal Language's ability to decode symbols.
After a few steps, Tommy stopped to study the massive robot. They had heard of the Gundam from everyone's favorite weeb, Pavlichenko, but still couldn't quite believe it. They opened their active Mage sight, tucking in Mind in addition to the normal Forces and Prime, to study the robot. If no one bothered them for the moment, they might study deeper before heading out further.
Emet
Looking around pays dividends. There is a panel on the lift with more numbers and letters on it, and more colors, too. There's a black. A white. A gray. A green. A blue. A brown. Very clearly it's a navigational framework for understanding travel around the base. Probably finding a map of the base somewhere, or even knowing the layout of the base would make the terms gain full meaning. Even walking around the facility a bit to see what happens to the numbers and letters with travel would be illuminating.
Watching the robot is fascinating. It towers overhead and seems more built for industrial work than military. A heavy lifter. An earth mover. A do-er. Even so, that's very clearly a big fucking rail gun mounted onto each of its massive arms. Whatever duty they do as deck crew, they double down on as anti-air defense. This is probably one of the cruder models. It lacks the clean movements of human locomotion, it depends on a low center of gravity to balance its massive load carrying capacity, and so it is plodding. Slow. But clearly, up there somewhere in the chassis, is an operator.
A little visibly trans dude with a spiky hair cut in an orange jump suit strapped into the command pod with two huge gauntlets on his hands and two huge boots on his tiny feet. He strains at the control arms and heaves them forward, surging the mech forward another plodding step, as though he were fighting the thing the whole way.
In short, it's pretty fucking metal.
Bones
"It's ... spectacular..." and then they went to find a map to study to determine all of the clues of the colors. Crossing a red line wasn't usually a great idea without more information. They also looked for anyone that seemed willing to help a new arrival.
Emet
Everyone in the hangar is pretty reasonably preoccupied with the giant fucking robot moving the giant space rock around like a bouncy ball. And everyone very reasonably expects Tommy to stay right where they are for the moment. So events proceed as they should for all parties involved.
Tommy could take the lift and travel, likely. And maybe there's a map or an interface in there. Or Tommy could wait out the cool space labor and see if they can catch someone after the rock is sufficiently Bruce Willised.
Bones
To the elevator they go! Following the yellow line very precisely to the elevator to push the button. "Keep calm and carry on," they murmured to themself.
Emet
Bung. A pleasant chime sounds as the lift door opens, revealing an octogonal interior lined with railings and bench seating with notches for accessibility chairs. There is a bulbous tube screen to the side of the door, which presently displays the floor ID outside the door. 301YRX. Beneath that flickers the words: "Please state your destination." It cycles through various languages as time goes by.
Bones
"I am Second Degree Master Bones, Mystagogue and Theurge on the Path to the Aether, Supernal Realm of Prime and Forces, and abode of Angels, Master of Prime and Forces, Adept of Time, Disciple of Life and Spirit, Apprentice of Death, Matter, and Space. Or, rather, simply, Bones. I was invited by Mark and Mary."
Emet
The screen flickers again. You're on Mars staring at a cathode ray tube, of all things. When it resolves, a highly polygonal computerized face of a dog appears hovering on screen. It wears a collar with a red soviet star on it.
It tilts its head at them, one digital ear flopping over to the side in the process.
"That was not a destination," comes a digitized but decidedly feminine and Russian accented voice.
Bones
They blushed as they realized their mistake. Even with the ability to perceive a word, one has to slow their reading speed sometime, "Sorry. Um. New Arrival Orientation or nearest to it."
Emet
"Are you one of the off-world visitors?" The dog's head rights itself, though its eyes perk, and it seems to wiggle in the air as though its butt were wagging.
Bones
"Yes. I am a visitor from off-world, and would like to be taken to the best possible location to orientate myself to the rules, procedures, and geography of the base and surroundings."
Emet
"Now travelling to the Hall of Consensus. Estimated transit time: Two minutes, twenty seven seconds. You are passenger one." A 01 appears on screen next to the dog's head, along with a decrementing clock showing the transit time. The pod in which Tommy stands releases from its moorings and begins to hover. The 'please take your seat' message displays on screen, along with an audio message, and a haptic vibration in the frame of the pod. Three strong pulses. That's all the warning Tommy's going to get for whatever is about to happen.
Bones
They quickly sat down, and decided that for something like this, he'd summon his Amnion based on the messaging. It flowed around them like Iron Man's suit, hardening into a Spanish Style Cuirass and accompanying equipement for the rest of the body.
Emet
For all the foreboding lead up, the simple act of taking one's seat is pretty much all it takes not to suffer any ill effects from getting underway. A frequent SEPTA rider will be familiar with the idea of mass transit under motion. Only the motion here is maglev technology, very clearly, and the speeds involved are best not to think about too hard while inertia is in play.
After traveling perhaps a few hundred meters, in the tube with only the interior of the pod to look at, the tube reaches the surface and begins to travel the interior of the crater's rim. The view is breathtaking, of course, and it is broken only intermittently by the passing stantions as the pod speeds along its course. A similar warning tone and vibration announces imminent decelleration, at more or less at the half way point of the journey that process begins.
The pod disappears back underground well before it reaches the Hall of Consensus. But once there, the pod rises from the floor at the edge of a massive open air ampitheater, constructed in the round. What had been your transit pod becomes a seating gazebo until such a time as it is needed for transit again. Function transit architecture. Because why not.
A computerized bark sounds twice upon arrival, and the screen goes dark again. Please state your destination, it says blandly.
The hall is bustling with activity, at least thirty souls. It's a mixture of a market and a forum and night club and a court of law. It's the Hall of Consensus. Whatever that means. The most prominent sound in the hall is conversation, much of it punctuated by laughter.
Bones
Pulling out their notebook, they took as many detailed notes about the Crater's rim and the ride itself.
As it transformed into a gazebo/seat, they stood up and spoke, "Thank you," in response to the bark.
They began by moving around the empty space of the market/forum/club floor and looked for a map vendor or other 'stand' with information. They also just took in all the energies and moods with glee.
Emet
With a stranger in their midst, the vibe of the hall does slowly begin to change. This is not a group of people who often receive visitors, and so one by one the conversations begin to quiet and the focus of attentions begin to turn quite organically towards Tommy. This would seem unfathomably incomprehensibly rude back on Earth. It may, in truth, feel like that dream from school where one is in nothing but socks. But the staring isn't judgmental. Nothing about Tommy's appearance phases them in the least, and all of their expressions are open and curious. It might remind one of a child's guilelessness.
The color codes are clearly access related. Different paths with different colors branch off from this hall, leading this way and that. But none of that corresponds with any regularity to the colors the people wear. Yes people do wear primary colors of yellow and red and blue here and there, and some wear white and gray and black. Yes. All true. But they travel freely wherever they seemingly choose to travel regardless of their dress. The two seem entirely divorced. If it's a caste system, it's not one with visible differentiations. A caste system where you can't tell the castes apart doesn't serve its purpose, so that seems highly unlikely.
Finally, a single voice speaks up from the crowd. "I should like to welcome our guest, agreeable?"
A few hesitant but therefore twice as courageous voices call out, "Agreeable." Nobody dissents, but everyone stares.
A black woman steps forward, caught somewhere between 25 and timeless. She's dressed in a gossamer light robe that ought to leave none of her curves a secret but manages to do precisely that. She wears a golden collar about her long neck, one that clearly invokes African origins, its ends wiggle like an urchin. Her eyes look gray, and see nothing. "I am Ajok," she says warmly. "Welcome."
Bones
They put their hands together in a 'prayer' motion and bow at the waist, while still facing Ajok, "Hello. I am Second Degree Master Bones, Mystagogue and Theurge on the Path to the Aether, Supernal Realm of Prime and Forces, and abode of Angels, Master of Prime and Forces, Adept of Time, Disciple of Life and Spirit, Apprentice of Death, Matter, and Space. Or, Simply, Bones. I was invited by Mark and Mary to visit."
Emet
There's some open discussion now about just what the heck all of that means. They're not a speculative people, however. Speculation isn't discouraged, it's asked for data. And very shortly, everyone is looking back to Tommy again. Seeking more of that sweet, sweet data.
"I am one of the particle physicists here at Hermes." She doesn't seem the sort of blind that is aware of how big she's smiling when she says that. "I knock the universe around and steal its milk. How long are you to be staying with us?"
Bones
"I would like to just get the gist of things. Maybe a day? I don't know the rules, procedures, expectation, layout of the base and geography of the local area, but I'd like to be able to explore wherever I could within those limits."
Emet
"You need perhaps a chaperone? Or concierge? Attache?" Ajok offers any number of palatable ways to suggest they might benefit from being babysat. "We do have hospitality personnel of a sort, or we could get you a Good Girl, which you may prefer." It doesn't seem to occur to her that Tommy wouldn't know what a Good Girl is.
Bones
"Is a Good Girl one of the computerized canines in the lift/tube system?" she posited aloud, "But yes, a guide of sorts would be very useful, thank you."
Emet
She clearly has to process the fact that this needs explaining, but is immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, yes. I'm sorry. Ah. A sort of mobile Laika unit. The station's AI." She makes a motion with her hand and a few individuals in the crowd seem to know to look at each other, and in doing so seem to wordlessly decide who will then proceed to head to the wall and interact with a panel there.
A short time later a small robot dog rolls out of the wall on four legs that end in tank tread feet. The body is only nominally canine, and the head is just another big cathode tube with two speaker racks for ears and a bulbous mic for a nose. It moves the way a dog would move if it were stuck in a tank husk with a tube for a head. Just so happy to be here, really.
Bones
"Thank you Ajok, and the rest of the consensus," a bob of their head. She looked to the Good Girl, "Hello. Should I refer to you as Good Girl, Laika, or another reference? Are you also the same individual that I introduced myself to in the lift, or should I do that as well?"
Emet
"I remember you, but we've never met. I have autonomous memory. But we're all Laika. We consolidate during maintenance. So I will become the one you met in a little under seven hours, during maintenance. But the one you met in the lift will also become me. So it will unbecome the one you met in the lift. You are meeting drops in the cup. Do you have a ball?" The Good Girl whirrs to a stop before Tommy and Ajok looks down at it with an approving smile. "Good girl, Laika." And then to Tommy, "She'll handle you from here. If you need human interaction, don't hesitate to ask her for it." There's a final glance between the two and Tommy is left with the assistance they sought. Nothing more or less than that for the moment. Even despite the crowd's curiosity, focus begins to return to other matters of prior discourse.
Bones
The Obrimos nodded, having heard stranger things in just being a Mage. Then to the robot, "I regret, Laika, that I do not have a ball with me but we can definitely look for one for you. First, I'd like to go to wherever I can learn the rules of the base, and the overall policies and procedures. Including, things like the color coding system."
Emet
"First, do no harm. Second, seek consensus. Third, pursue knowledge. Finally, nurture yourself. If you consider an action, consider its capacity to do harm, its likelihood to be met with harmonious assent, in what manner you can learn from the experience, and finally what ways that knowledge may benefit your life. Do this in good faith. Limit yourself to the paths to which you have achieved certification. At present you have yellow and red access. Both general access and hangar and mech access. You may test for competency in other areas at any time. Training can be furnished to help assist in achieving competency. The only access not granted by broad competency is full administrator access, which is an override access one holds administratively regardless of one's other competencies. It allows one to be where one should not otherwise be in an administrative capacity, and is subject to review for misuse."
All of that is offered with forthright immediacy from the eager Laika, the robot slowly whirring in a circle around the Obrimos's feet, all huge and cumbersome.
"Procedural information is established by the divisional directors under the oversight and administration of the Director and Assistant Director and not maintained or established by Laika. I can provide archival documentation. Audio and fiche records are available on these topics, though I suggest a more specific query."
Bones
She took more notes on these rules.
"What is the procedure for going out and about outside the base?"
Emet
"Surface level EVA requires Blue certification and an Amneon Suit. Egress through the hangar bays is red access. If you achieve Blue and Red certification, you can be issued a Mark III ground pounder or a Mars rover."
Laika's dog face hovers on the screen as information pertinent to what she's also speaking dribble into place on the screen.
The implication is that if Tommy were responsible enough to be out there, in Laika's mind, they'd know the answer to that question. And the answer to that question lies in the certification it is offering.
Bones
"What categories do each color correspond to, and what is the related compentency required?"
Emet
An extensive categorization system bubbles up that accounts for just about every categorization imaginable. Eat your heart out international transit codes. The break down, when you get down to it though, is mostly like this:
Red: The care and feeding and operation of the big stompy mechs and the gundams and such. Both ground crews and air crews. Overlap with the operation of defense weapons up there and such.
Yellow: Are you alive?
Gray: Be the director or assistance director. Interestingly, there are carve outs for what are called Press Grays. Grays who are made gray because they pick up a pen and promise to write about what they see and nothing more.
Blue: The operation of ground vehicles, knowledge of the "martian environment" "amneon suit competency". But also sciences like exogeology and exobiology and things relating to space metallurgy and geology.
White: The care and feeding of the station's environmental biology. Not its mechanical lungs, but its arboretums and hydroponic labs and so on. This also deals with production of food and livestock and the science and study of such things.
Black: The care and feeding the station's interior architecture. Systems. Life support. Sensors. So on. And again, also handles fabrication, engineering, and so on.
Bones
They continued to take notes for all of the information provided as well. Then they thought long and hard, analyzing each step and category. Quietly, with a little sadness but overall just honest, "At this time, I think the only one that I would potentially qualify for is Press Gray."
Emet
That's a pretty unorthodox request, but Laika humors it for the moment at least. "Representing which people or polity?"
Bones
"I would have to discuss with my higher ups, but I, myself, am an Archaeologist and Semiotics specialist. I also belong to an organization focused on the fact that Knowledge must be Preserved, and has a price. These factors together lead me to believe that being able to record what occurs here would be most useful with my current talents and skills."
Emet
"This suggests your interests tend towards the blue, not the gray. You said it must be preserved. Press Grays believe information must be freed. The purpose is pro-social, to lend insight on matters that would otherwise be blind to the average citizen. One's willingness to look critically at matters of administration, fabrication, or study and report observations back to those who depend upon those services is a benefit to society. A camera can record. A microphone can document. A blue can study. A Press Gray investigates and reports."
Bones
"You said that they promise to to pick up a pen and write about what they see, nothing more, or that's the gist I got... So I thought it was simply recording. I've got some skill investigating as well, but I am not a geologist or biologist or metalurgist by trade, so I also did not say Blue."
Emet
"Most of the softer sciences do tend to distribute among white and black and blue, or a mixture of the three. The system is simply intended to indicate where it is considered safe for a person to be on a regular basis. Little more than that. It's a social convention. But there aren't criminal penalties for crossing a line you shouldn't. It's simply that your odds of survival dip dramatically if you're there during an emergency." Laika ceases whirring in circles and "sits" down at heel. A laser pointer in its tail 'wags' a beam of light out her backside.
"Do you have any skill in documentary?"
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