Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Masterful was only the beginning. 

The way these knaves, these cruel, cunning overlords swept across the land and made the very heart of the earth bend towards their will, it was... 

Ruthless.

Insatiable.

Unrelenting.

Yielding to no one and no God other than "the bottom line" - a God of their own design, an instrument of social control, a monolith to keep at bay the enormity of evil threatening to erupt beneath their very feet - they tore the world apart, and all things living in it, reducing both to a shadow of their former glory. Some became earth, some became shadow, all returned to the same impenetrable, indiscernible chaos. With an almost suicidal fervor, these tyrants sought to overthrow the balance established before the beginning of time, taking more and more, leaving a void in their wake, irreverent to the very forces that brought them into existence.

The pleading, begging masses, those unfortunate enough to be brought into a world of suffering and anguish, threw themselves at anything that would ease their tortured existence - piety, lasciviousness, compliance, disobedience, chaos, order - all futile, feeble attempts to make sense of the madness, to contain the universe in a frail illusion of control. In a sick twist of fate, these very concepts were weaponized against them by corrupt leaders who egged them on to the brink, wearing away at the edges of their sanity - all for the sake of power, temporal pleasure, and the illusion of immortality.

Such self-destructive tendencies could continue only for so long. Time would only force the universe itself to cry out "No more!" and collapse, desperately searching for a less agonizing substance to call reality, desperate for the beings within it to wake up and break free of this self-immolation.

But no such awakening came.

None realized their peril.

All

but

o-

"Choom, are you kidding me right now?" 

"What? You don't li-like it?"

"This reads like a high school kid who just discovered the thesaurus and needs to reach a certain word count. Come on, man! You gotta be more down-to-earth than this with your intro if you want people to read it!"

"Ugh, fine. What would you suggest then?"

"First off I - hold on a second."

Rebecca bounced off her bed towards her matte-black bookcase, which was crammed to the point of bursting with sci-fi novels dating back to the earliest inception of the genre. A few shelves were left empty, but only to accommodate her growing Star Wars and Blade Runner paraphernalia. She brushed past her vast P.K. Dick tomes, grabbed a copy of Scalzi's Old Man's War, and plopped back onto her bed with a sigh, flipping through the pages.

"You see here, choomba, this is how you start a novel: 'I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. I visited my wife’s grave. Then I joined the army.' See? Short, sweet, and relatable to most! Not some hand-wavy, world-end-sounding shit like what you just cooked up-"

"Excuse me, but I'm not about to have my beloved fantasy series The Tales of Kriv'oth be scorned by the likes of you!"

"GASP! Whatever shall I do? Gnuvishna has me in its slimy tentacles! Oh, Kriv'oth, you're my only hope-"

"That's disgusting! You've been on that side of the 'net, haven't you?"

"Hah! I guess we'll never know... Anyways yeah, make it more down-to-earth and trim your long sentences down. Oh, and lose that cringe voice-changer for your 'epic narration' bits, you can't pull it off-"

"What? No! That's my favourite part! I-"

"Look, you asked for my opinion, buddy; it's your loss if you want to make it."

"GROAN. You've got a point, I'll consider it."

"People want to escape this shitshow of a reality, but you gotta make it believable, choombarino."

"I told you not to call me that-"

"And I told you that I don't care. HA!"

"GRR! You're such an asshole."

"Oh yeah, me taking time out of my buuuusy daay to help you out with your silly little story-"

"IT'S NOT SILLY! It's FANTASY for a REASON!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, touchy subject. Look. I think it's alright. Just not quite up my alley, ya feel me?"

"I guess so. To be fair, I kinda wanted an impression of what it looked like from someone who reads a lot of novels, I guess. And the fact that I haven't seen you in a while has got to do with it too. Not having any classes together SUCKS, 'specially with all these Westbrook corpobrats in AP Calculus. I need a break from those pretentious pricks."

"Hey, no need to make up excuses for calling now!"

"Okay. Short and sweet? I miss your stupid face."

"Aw, thanks, fuck you too. And aren't we all corpobrats, technically?"

"Nah, Bex, we the middle class! We have a chance of saving our humanity, preventing our souls from being chewed up by the griiind, bro!"

"That is soooooo believable; you are, like, soo not full of shit."

"Whaaaat? Who are you, and what have you done with Beccst-"

"Watch it, pal, or I'll resize all your holes and give you new ones to boot."

"Got it, sheesh, 's only fair! You did call me choombarino after all..."

"Heh, yeah, I guess you're right."

There was silence on the line for a few moments, the bantering spirit having left the conversation.

"Anyways, that's all I got for first impressions."

"Alright, noted. Thanks for all your input. I miss ya. Let me know when's a good time to hang out, okay?"

"Sure, sure, I'll let you know."

"Alright, then. Talk to you later."

"Later, dumdum."

"G'night, stupid."

Holocall over, Rebecca slouched up and looked around her room, the LED strips framing the walls with her favourite shades of blue and pink. While she was happy to have little distractions like helping her friends with writing and worldbuilding, she couldn't shake her constant loneliness as of late. With both parents gone constantly from the house and her older brother gone to college, she often had the apartment to herself most afternoons. Not that it was pleasant when any of them were around; dad was often drunk and needed help dragging his sorry ass to the couch, mom would be more present but only to nag at her for some imperfection, and Pilar was... well, Pilar. All of them had some say in her life and how it should turn out, even if they put up a pretty face but puked all over the synth-fur carpet behind closed doors. Two-faced was a generous description of the life she and her barely-functioning family lived.

Why the hell do they want me to just take up some dumbass desk job? I wanna work as a techie like Pilar, or as a weaponsmith, or even as just a bouncer at one of the stupid nightclubs mom and dad always go to but nooooooo, that's not a lady's profession, they say. Work your way up, suck the dick of the next one up on the totem pole, hope you don't get fucked by corpos with better connections than you.

I know what I'd rather do...

She got up and moved across the room towards her desk, ducking under it to the air vent beneath. Pulling off the cover and reaching all the way inside, she could just barely reach a data shard she kept for times just like this. No way was she ever going to get away with what she kept on there, but then again, no one was home. Removing her CitiNet chip, she slotted the shard into her data port, selected the .outf files stored on it, set her optics to Augmented Reality mode, and stood in front of her mirror. 

Who she saw was a completely different person from the one she was forced to be. A Rebecca with teal-colored pigtails, skin to match, and red eyes stared back, complete with a black, baggy sweater covering most of her upper body. Her short, imposing legs were fully revealed, and her right thigh sported a bright pink P.K. Dick tattoo. A sly grin creeping onto her face, she then slung her hand over her back, pretending to draw a weapon, and brandished a holographic projection of the Budget Arms Carnage shotgun she nicknamed Guts, stylized to resemble the rest of her appearance.

She pointed the firearm all around her room, shooting wildly at imaginary enemies with an almost manic, sadistic joy, crying out "BANG, BANG! TAKE THAT, YOU 'SAKA SCUMBAGS! HAHA!" through her optics. She did not dare say those words out loud, as such corporate blasphemy would surely reach the ears of her chastising progenitors, either through the security system's recordings or the nosy neighbours her parents invited over every so often. Still, that didn't prevent her from grinning ear to ear; she relished this identity. She felt more free than ever.

Wave after wave of artificial goons fell at her feet until one massive digital behemoth stood above the rest - the one and only Adam Smasher.

"Well, if it isn't Arasaka Chrome Dome Extraordinaire! Bet you're surprised to see me, huh?"

She cocked the barrel on Guts, uranium casings flying violently from the chamber. "Well, COME AND GET SOME!"

Battle cry uttered, Rebecca then rushed Smasher, who happened to be in the middle of her room at the time, and landed shot after shot on the NC Boogeyman of Corporate War legend. Pieces of armor flew off with each shot as she circled the killer borg. Suddenly sliding between his legs, Rebecca blasted Smasher in the balls, forcing the syndicate symbol to his knees. Stepping up behind the felled behemoth, she pointed Guts at the nape of his neck.

"Send Arasaka my regards, fuckface!"

"wHaTeVer cHoOm, LiKe I gIve A ShIeT-" she mockingly retorted before pulling the trigger and blowing Smasher's head to bits, synthetic nerve fluid and whatever organic bits remained of his brain scattered across her bedroom floor and smeared across her mirror. She stared at herself, breathing heavily from the imagined battle's exertion. 

Well that was fun, as usual! Can't wait to do that again when the crippling depression comes back, heh...

 As the simulation faded and her real-world appearance returned, she couldn't help but say out loud:

"... man, why can't I be in charge of my life for once?"

Chapter Text

"Grah, shit. 's fuckin' rainin' again."

"Come on, babe, 's just a sprinkling. If it all goes well, it'll be just a few minutes."

"Y'know how I feel about the acid rain on ma wheels, ain't I allowed to complain 'bout dat?"

"Nope, not after you've said it a million fuckin' times!"

"Nnnrgh. Fine, I get it. I'll try and lay off it."

"That's my gonk. Sasha, you ready?"

"You got it, Dorio," Sasha responded, quietly chewing her gum.

The flamingo-pink netrunner stood in front of the Biotechnica headquarters, hacking gear slung over her shoulder. The Biotechnica heist had been on her mind for the past week, even if it was a relatively simple data retrieval mission. Nightmares of her dead mother had plagued her every night since Maine had announced the heist to the crew, although she hadn't dared to share said nightmares with anyone. She simply couldn't shake the feeling that this very corporation had something to do with her mother's gradual, painful paralysis, despite their family's best efforts and most expensive treatments. Memories crashed in her skull, fragmenting her complex emotions like a kaleidoscope; distorted, beautiful, blinding-

Focus, Sasha. You have a job to do. Breathe in, breathe out.

"Passing off comms to Maine. It's showtime, girlie."

Walking up to the entrance, she extended her hacking lead and cracked the door's Smartlock, causing the doors to open. She then ran in and leaped over the reception counter, extending her lead to a port mounted behind the counter and disabling the security system. 

"Sasha, you in? In 'n out, kid. Jammer ain't gonna hold forever."

Relieved, Sasha stepped into the elevator. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

Getting out near the top floor, Sasha ran through the hallways until she came up to the executive office where she would have access to the Level 2 clearance needed for the immunosuppressant files. Jacking into the terminal, she flawlessly and quickly grabbed the data needed and transferred it to Maine.

"Niiice," Maine responded. "Now haul ass 'fore anyone catches you."

Sasha smirked cheekily, knowing she had done her job well. She turned to unplug her headset from the terminal port when something caught her eye.

CONFIDENTIAL - SECURICINE - ACCESS LV1 OR HIGHER REQUIRED.

Her mind flashed with visions of her mother in a hospital bed, Securicine bottle on her nightstand. 

Could this be it? What my visions, my nightmares have been about?

Her fingers hovered over the file, knowing her time was short. Security was well on the way, and the jammer would be online only for a few seconds longer.

...

... I have to know. 

She pressed on the file, which spat out the information that confirmed her worst fears.

SECURICINE
Classified Information
Class: Painkillers
Undisclosed Side Effects: G̴ṟ̴͘a̴̝̹̒d̵̠͋̃͜ú̸̻̿̅̕a̸̙̯͂̍l̶͈̖͉͕͛́̍͊ N̴̛̘̳̘̮̩̝͐̿́̆͠é̶̱͇͇̲̖̳́̋̎̑̓͜u̴͚̗̤̘̭̼͉͕͐̂́̐͐̃͠r̴̨̡͙̺͈͇̞͍̳̱͌ỡ̷͇̭͈͕̭͍̜͝ͅd̵̢̨̢̨̘̠͍̹͙̳̝͔̎͆̅̀̆̅͝͝͝ȩ̷̛̭̖̞̬̤̭̜̙͔͖̑́̉͝ͅͅg̶̘̗̜͍͖͚̬͉̒̊̾̊̎͌̑̚̚͠͝ȩ̵̨̧̨̠̠̞̲̯̟̥̬̞̹̽̓̇̄́̓͊͗̓̆̑͘̚n̸̛͙̮͎̩͕͉̤͇̊̓̈́̋̉̌̀̒͜͠͝è̸̡̢̮̫̬͖͍̗̝̼̟̭̱̼͕̬̱̤̒̎́̈́͛̉̓͐̈́̅̕͝r̶͓̙͇̼͕̣͇̩̻̎̒̀̊̍̓̈́̌̎̈́̀̚͜͠͝͠a̴̭̭̯̟͈̝͍̦̪̺̹̗̯̿͊͂̌̈͑̇̉͜͝ͅͅt̴̡̢̯̯̝̪͕͇͚̮̥̖̳͉͙̫̻̮̥̫̘̯̟̋̎̒̂͌̅͜į̷̢̘̬̠͈̤̟̝̜͖͈̪̟͎̻͓̱͔̞͇̱̹̺̮̳̰̟̹͕̘̏̀̅͐͋͊̐̃͌̏͘ơ̸̘͓͈̙̘̦̹̭̹͖̳̰͖̬̺̰̠̞͌̒̇͗̎̒̇̅̀̃̀̏̔̇͐̌̿͋̇̄̿͒̅̿͛̂̆̌̈̓͘̚ͅn̸̢̢̛͉͈̖̯̻̟͕̫̰̍̄̈́̌͊͌̊̄̀͘-̸̨̢̛̛͕͇͙͔͓̺̪͓̣͎̬̯̳̰̳̩̤̘͔̥̯̩͚͗̏̉̓͂̑́̑͌̅̍͗͋̀̾̑͋͛̐͑̋̌̋̆͠-̵̢͖̠̘͈̭̯̩̼̮͙̩̳̹̥̙̙͙̰́͐̒̂̔̐̐̎̎̍̂̿͘͘͝-̷̙͚̯͆̒̄̑̑̔̍̿̉̐̂́̀̓͑͐̍̕̚͝-̸̢̛̟͍̼̤̫̰̥̑̔́͑̌̉̽̋͋͑̈́̐̓̓̑̊͒̄̈́͘

...

"Sasha's not movin'."

"Give her time, babe, you know how netrunners can b-"

"NO, Dorio! Somethin' ain't right! The tracker should be showing that she is on her way out!"

"Jammer just went offline, do you see her moving out?"

"...no, still in the same room."

"Shit."

...

... those fucking bastards.

Those fucking bastards took her away. Killed her slowly. All for the sake of profit.

... I will make those вырождается pay.

She opened her eyes, glare steely and determined. She pulled up the N54 News Tipline and connected her hacking lead to the terminal, starting the upload of the Securicine files. It was hard to break through the ICE determined to stop her from leaking such confidential information, but no matter.

"Jammer's down! Get out of there! We already have what we need!"

Sasha ignored Maine's desperate plea, determined to finish what she had started. She heard security bots running from outside the hallway. It would only be a matter of time before they got to her. She loaded her Omaha pistol.

"Shit-- Sasha! Where are you?!"

She couldn't take it. His agonizing messages almost broke her resolve, but seeing her mother's face, gaunt and devoid of life, sealed her fate. She would die, if she had to, for a chance to break the corporation that had killed thousands of people and crippled millions more.

... I'm sorry, Maine.

Final message sent, she cut the connection and hid behind the desk, bracing herself for the explosion.

"SHIT! She fucking cut the connection! SASHA!"

"Maine, what the HELL is going on???"

"We need to go. NOW!"

Tires squealing, Maine roared out of the parking lot, frantically searching the skyline around Biotechnica, hands shaking with terror and dread as he saw a Biotechnica airship hovering in place.

nonononononoNONONONO-

An explosion shook the room as the doors were blasted open, Biotechnica security robots swarming in. Seeing no visible bodies in the room, they shot at the desk to try and penetrate it. Sasha took this opportunity to throw a flashbang grenade and rush the bots, cutting the closest one down with her claw implants, dodging the gunfire from the rest. Maintaining connection to the terminal, she sent a Cyberpsychosis hack towards one of the bots, causing it to shoot one of its own - more of a distraction than anything, since such bots were designed to be immune to friendly fire. She seized the opportunity and kicked the psyched robot to the ground, stabbing it in the torso with her claws. 

Upload continuing, Sasha backflipped out of the way of a flurry of bullets from the last robot standing. She shot back, a final cry of rage escaping her lips as she crashed out of the office window, the upload completing just in time for her to disconnect her hacking lead. Her final preparation, a Nokota explosive, detonated as she flew backwards, tumbling down the city skyline.

I'm sorry, Maine. I'm sorry, friends.

To do my mother right, I had to...

... Let You Down.

"SASHA!!! NO!!!"

Maine cried out in horror as he saw Sasha's body flying out of the Biotechnica building, a fiery plume her backdrop. He ignored Dorio's screams to come back as he screeched to a halt, amid the pouring rain, and ran towards where Sasha had fallen.

ohgodohgod ohGOd-

Suddenly, she was there. A passing car had broken her fall, and an annoyed and slightly disconcerted driver stood next to it, making a call to his insurance company. All of this - the rain, the man, the roar of the airship - all fell deaf on Maine's senses, save for the pink netrunner who had been a part of his team, his crew. 

Another person he wasn't able to save.

Not like this, Sasha, not like this...

His hands started to shake, ears ringing as his entire body started to dissociate. Static and ragged shards of colour formed in the peripherals of his vision. He watched, paralyzed with terror, as guns began protruding everywhere from lampposts to the uncaring passers-by - all consumed by the chrome darkness. As his visions closed in, slowly eating away at reality, he focused in on Sasha's face. Even amidst the chaos, she finally looked at peace, as if her explosive carelessness had for some reason been worth it. He even though he saw a tear-

"Um, excuse me, who the fuck are you?"

Everything came into a sudden, irritating focus. The visions and silence were vaporized from existence as the corpo suit yapped in his direction, having now finished his call to his provider. The pounding rain came down with a vengeance, as if mourning Sasha's passing.

And, he growled internally, to drown out the sound of this motherfucker.

Maine looked at him, roiling grief and anger set in his eyes.

"Okay, Mr. Strong-and-silent, I don't know who the fuck landed on my car, but somebody's gotta have to pay for this shit. And if someone doesn't get this bitch off my c-"

The man didn't get to finish his sentence before Maine's Gorilla Arms latched onto his neck, cutting off his air supply. The stench of smog and death filled Maine's lungs as he lifted the man off the ground, put his mouth to his ear, and snarled:

"Shut. The fuck. Up. You keep talkin' shit, not even the Scavs gon'be able to use the remains of your corpse."

Seeing the appropriate amount of terror in his eyes, Maine let go of his neck, causing the scumbag to crumple on the asphalt, raggedly gasping for breath. Maine then turned to Sasha and gingerly picked her up. He began trudging away from the scene, mustering every fiber of his being to not look at her face lest he break down in a torrent of tears to match the heavens.

Unfortunately, his fibers became otherwise preoccupied when the brat got enough air to start whining.

"WhAt ThE fUcK?! *cough cough* You fucking[redacted]I'll wipe your fucking existence from the earth!!! Do you know who I am?! YOUR LIFE IS OVER, YOU CYBORG FUCK, YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DO-"

The corpo fuck's racist, dehumanizing screeches pierced through the torrential downpour as Maine continued to trudge along. He focused on the sensation of Sasha's still-warm flesh cooling in his fingers to keep himself from flatlining the fucker right there on the street. Restraint was not one of his strong suits, but Maine had to if he wanted to preserve some dignity, get back to his car...

Keep the rest of his crew alive.

... breathe in ...

... breathe out.

"Whatever, choom. Like I give a shit."

Sasha set down her glass, having finished her rum and coke. 

"C'mon Maine, that's such bullshit! Where'd you ever hear a gonk story like that?" 

"Ay, shit's real kid! Heard it from an ex o'mine. Lovely Latina lady from Santo Domingo. She works them wack-ass EMT shifts, and trust me, Sasha - that story is one of the tame ones."

"Trust him on this one, choomfie," Rebecca piped up. "The gonk's got a couple o' armor plates loose but this time, they're tighter than even I was pre-Mo-"

"Woaaaah, TMI, TMI, Becca! I get it, sheesh!" Sasha giggled, turning slightly red from second-hand embarrassment. 

"Hahahah! Becca, you always were one of the discrete ones, weren't you?"

"Oh shut up Dorio, as if your suit-and-tit-plates combo is any more chaste!"

Sasha shook her head in mock disbelief. "I just can't with all of you degenerates right now, tsk tsk."

"As if yo're any picnic, kiddo! Last job we almost had to come get yo ass and pull yo data cord right outta ya socket 'cuz you wouldn't stop messin' 'round with corpos' browsin' history!"

"Hey, in my defense, it's fun to fuck with 'em, Maine! Couple o' HoloBombings never fail to make me chuckle..."

"Choom, I'm half-jokin', but half-serious too. You're a great Netrunner, and honestly ya pull your weight real good. But please, do that shit on yo' own time. Can't have ya gettin' distracted mid-job and havin' some gonk bust yo brains out while you in the 'net."

Slightly sheepish at being chastised in front of the crew, Sasha responded: "Yeah, yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

Silence reigned for a few moments, any mirthful attitude having been stifled.

"Good. Now, make shore y'all check the debrief file fuh t'night's mission. Simple data retrieval. Biotechnica suit's got some immunoblocker formula locked in his computer, and our client's payin' us reeeal good f'dis one. Sasha, it's all you tonight. I'll be yo ride and contact, while Dorio's got the jammer. Becca, keep an eye out for any gonks who wanna fuck around 'n' find out. See you all there at 22:35 there on the dot."

"Sounds good babe," Dorio chimed with a smile.

"You got it, bossman!" Becca chirped.

"Will do, Maine," Sasha replied as she stood up. "I'll just go ahead and get started on the walk there, helps clear my head for these kinds of things."

"Hey, whateva gits you inta ya groove, go right ahead. See ya there, kid."

Waving to her crewmates, Sasha left the Afterlife and headed towards the Corpo Plaza. Even if she felt a little irritated at Maine's scolding in front of the team, she knew he just did it because he cared. Even if Maine didn't particularly open up about his past, the dog tags he carried showed he'd been to war at some point in his life, and had lost a fair share of the people he cared about. Not that she was particularly a stranger to loss - her deceased mother sprang to mind - but she tended to not dwell on the past. Rather, she chose to live life to the fullest; even if Night City was a corporate hellhole, it still had its charm, and for those who were willing to rise to the Edgerunner life? If one could take it, they were rewarded handsomely.

She skipped around as she crossed the bridge into the city center, passing by the colorful monuments to corporate power she had come to know so well. Her personal favorite had always been the two Butterfly koi fish holograms that circled above the plaza circuit. Godless and amoral as Arasaka was, it was a nice gesture for them to have something representing Yin and Yang, chaos and order, to remind those who bothered to look beyond the veil of mortality that both of these forces were constantly at work. Even in these modern times of frenzied technological progress and a feverish abandon of the organic, such concepts that transcended any human description or innovation brought Sasha a sense of peace - almost as if she was once worried that these corporations would truly end up immortal and continue corrupting the universe with their insatiable desire for power, expansion, and profit.

To be completely honest, even those ideals and concepts are human-made, created by our own senses and thoughts. We'll never really be able to see the stuff of reality, much less fuck around with it. And hell, even my internal dialogue is something I made up, so why worry?

She felt a sensation of approval suddenly  - not just from within herself, but as if someone, having heard her musings, had approved of her stance somehow. She turned around to see if anyone was there, and of course, no one was.

Welp, let's get this show on the road, Sasha mused as she felt the rain begin to fall.

0̷̡̼̒͋͒̽̅̓̇͌͌̚1̷͚̘̖̪̠̠́̂̇̆̿͛̀̑͊̚̕̕1̸̢̘͕̹́͂͌̂̑͂̿̏̌̏̕͘͘ͅ0̶̨̧̢̯̲̟̜̘̲͚̲́͆̎0̴̧̯͎̒̄̈͂͛́̋̑̈́͋̀̐́͝0̵̡̨̰̗̞͓̺̼̣̦̳͖̣̀͋͗̓̑͑͝ͅ0̶̝͒̓̂1̴͈̝̹͍̻̟̬̰̞̙͈͚̻͍͐̽́͊́̇̿̓͐̋̒͐͗ ̴̧̛͓̭̪̰̪̝͎͍͊̏̇̎̈̊̾́̏̿̚͝͝͠0̷̛͈̼̮̜͇̺̋̓̋̈́̂̈́̽̽̋1̸̧̟̹͖́͒̃͋͑̒1̷̧̬̫̟̮̬̫͎͈͈̟̙̙̀̽͘1̷̨͉̞̫͍̐̀̓͂͂̈́̉̆̐͝0̵̧̲̩͖͈̠̥̗̼͔̈́̎̓͗̈́̿̈́͆0̴͎̬̠̲̯̺͘1̴̡̧̨̬̪͇̣̩̮͓̙̮̋̈̓̐̇̎0̴̛͙̤̜͇͇̪̟̃̅͊̔̅̀̿́̄̄͋̌͘͝ ̷̛̮̯̖͖̓̃̅̎͐̂́̀͗̀̍̇̍͑͜0̸̧̣͕̹̖̭̈́̄̈́̂͘1̵̧̢͉̤̭̘̠̙̙̙̠̈̓͗̇͛̃̈͗̋̈́̌̂̚1̶̱͇͎͎̮̏͗̔͘͜1̷̡̙͉̙͖͓̥̼͔̺̠̤̣̣̱̀̍̈́0̵̛̖̪̉́̊̽͆̑̀̌̑͝͝1̸͎͇̬̯̜̣̿̌̅̂̍0̶̨̤͓̰͕͔̩̭̉͂͂̀͋͑͗̈́̾̃͑̽͒͘̕0̵̮̗̖̲̾̔̈̓̐̌̑ ̷̖͉̟̲͕̒͝0̵̡̛͕̰͉͊̍͗͐͠͝1̶̧̪̰̫̦͎̙̝̙̱̫͖̺͑̽̉̌͒͛̕͜1̵̬͔̲̋͊̐̆̌̒̚͝1̴̢̛̛̗̼̩͛́͒̈́͋͒̽̿̇̍̏͝0̶͇͕̿̾̄͑͆̽̆̊͐̌͛̅͘͠1̴̧͈̹̞̓͛̈́̈́̓́̓̈́́̏̄0̴̟̟͓͔̪͋͝1̵̭̭͚̥̟̹̮̗́͛̐͊̽̌̅͛̓̊̕̚̕͝ ̴̡̡͓̦̲͙̞̝̞̰͕̳̪̼̔̀́͑͗͊̈0̶̡͙̮̩̤͎̙͈̥̀́̑̐̒͝ͅ1̶̰̗̞̜͎̹͕̜̣͍̲͕̖̺̝͊́̋̃͗͝1̷͔̘̭̯̲͛͗̌͜͜ͅ1̸̧̨̛͈͔͙͍̘͙̹͈̱̙͇̰̃̔̚ͅ0̵̧̧̡̡͉͇̟̤̻̬͚̀̀̈́͑͠͝0̴̨̡̬̠͈̦͙̱̹͍̲̳̝̋͋̈́͒̉̀̚͝ͅ1̶̝̙̩̖̹̋̂͒̆̆1̷̠͕̤͕̏͂̏͗̊͝ ̵͉̰͍̠̬̟̼̽̊̓͂̎̀̊̒͊̎̍͋͜͝͝0̸͓̪̟̺̺͈̥̪͓̖̖̠̙̀͌̒̄͗́̎̌͝͝0̷̧̟̱̰̊̾͌͜͝1̸̩̳̗͚͈͇͇̣̭̩͆͛0̵̧̨̠̮̫͉͇̹̬̯̞͉͚̂̀͜0̵̨̛̞̘̠̟͖͍͓̟̇̽͋͒̒́̽̈͌̈͒̕0̶̨̛̥̻̦̮͙̳̈́̐͑̋̈̃̒͝͝͠0̴̧̢̡̮͙̰̗̮̤̬̻̬̮̥̎̏̉͜0̶͎͎̯̺̳͕̞̥̻̪̱̖̮̬̀̃̏̾̒̀͊̋̽́͐̌̀͑͜ ̸̝̳͖̗̤̖͒́́̈́́̕͝͝0̶̨̛͉̣̹̺̞͑͆̋͊̄͋̐̒͆̇̕͘1̴̺͚̬̩̭̲͇̖͇͈̺̞͖͙̇̎̾͒̇̔̽̂̍̔͌̓̓͝1̵̡̧̛͈̮͔̠̙̰͈͚̱̮̼̿́̽̐̐̑͊͆̅̽̏̕͝0̴̡̭͓̣̗͚̳͎͖͍̊̃̽̀̃͗̐͗0̷̧͈̹̘̺̼̣̞͓̪̃̌͛́̽̅̿͘͝1̶̨̢͔̱͇̜̪͚̝̙̫̣̓͛̈́̎̿͐̂ͅ1̴̞̟̰͍̭͉̙͈̤́͐͊͛̏̐̏̃͌͊̈́̚0̵̢̝̟̼̈́͊͑̍̒͒̍ ̷̨̜͓̞̠̦̣̭̭̬̘͉̠̟̀͊̔̈́̑̄̊͑͑͒̿̄̅́0̶̯̠̩̲̯̈̏̓͒̐1̸̯͕̫͕̪̜̙̙͉̤̳͉̉̈́̓̓̈́̒̋̃ͅ1̷̼͓͙͙͇͒̅̆́̋̅̄͆͗̐͆͜0̶̮̯̹̪̜̪͈̬̣̭̩͔̆̾̍̒̌͜͝ͅͅ1̵̜͖͌̓1̸̯͎̩͍̬̾͌͑́ͅ0̷̥͛̂̆̀́̉̈́͋͛̽͛͜͠͝0̶̖̩͔̆͂͋͛̃̔̇͐̀́̋͠ ̶͍͉̀̆̈́͗̐͆̃̉̓̓̐͊̃̕͝0̵̢̮̫̘̙͉̲̗̙͎͚̹̗͉̈́͆̈̅̉̊̋͜1̵̨̟̖̠̩͓̰͖̥̘̝͖̯̹̦́̃̓͆͋̑́͆͘͝1̵̡̛̃͊̈́̇͒̃̾̍0̵̛̛͓̼̞̬͔̓͛́̍̐̐̾͗̎̿0̸̫̥͕̗͕͍̘̦̩̠̉͋͌̓͛̓͑̅̚͝ͅ1̵͉̪̰͍̯̺͓̩͎͉̩̅̊̅̃́̏̊͜0̸̻̝̝̼̩̙̝̞͑̋̕1̴͖̞̬̭̖̣̳͈̮͙͑͌ ̷̰̐̈́̊͛̐̽̀͒̈̚̕͝͠0̴̧̖̯̝̯̜͉̯̺̥̣͍̱͎̽1̷̬̦̔̔͜1̶̥͚͚̣̮͙̠͉͍̖͚͇̈́0̵͓̯͎͕̗̹͈̬͒̉͂̔̂1̷̡̡̛͍̮̭͚̟̻̪̙͒̿͋͂̓͑̓1̴̣̹́̏̓̂0̴̡̭̹̫͌͒̿́̋̋̃͒̀͂͋͋̽̎͠1̸̡͇̳͔̬̟̝̀̔̓̂̈́͆̋̆͛̂̈̚̚͝
PROJECT STATUS: DEPLOYED
TELEPATHIC LINK 0.439% REALIZED
CONNECTION TERMINATED

Malcolm Nivaldo snapped into consciousness, brain still buzzing from the unusual stimuli these synaptical expeditions often required. Port disengaged, he sat up, rubbing his temples to ease his headache.

"Tell me you have good news," came a tired, yet hopeful, voice from the darkness.

"Well, sir, I believe I have finally managed to capture a relevant conduit. We are finally at the deployment stage."

Malcolm was met with a sigh of relief. "Good, good. Anything you can make out yet? Do we have enough yet for a full anamnesis?"

"Not yet. Most of the stimuli I'm getting isn't cantive enough, and my anterior precuneus was working overtime just keeping the connection alive."

"I was afraid that would be the case. In that regard, see if you can't start passing off the synaptic load to some other regions; start with occipital for the time being, and see if you can establish any contact."

"Will do. And, if I may ask, Mr-"

"Don't, Malcolm. Not yet. All will be revealed in due time. We must iterate until a lossless link can be established. Do you trust me on this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get some rest. We have much work to do."