Day 7
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Agent 943.5 enters the Holy City of OSK with a long space-elevator ride from the Skycolonies shattering atmospheres with a violent push of man's conquest over matter, birthing technological novelty and alchemical refinement. He steps off the lift into the eviscerating white brilliance gleaming off the clean sentient cityscape. Strange, beautiful and vibrant plants extend upwardly, interweaving webs of vine growing into building's circuitry and bonding with their Quantum-AI. Our agents nerves are rattled, he tries to maintain composure. Although he is facing down nilhatronic re-writes by his employers, the weaponry in OSK is at the least intimidating. Twisted radionic assault devices, remote biological interfaces, Qabbalistically driven psi-breaking command consoles, nanointegrating toxick clusters....it would be out of place if the head sentience of OSK didn't subscribe to the notion of violently enforcing the law of a renegade Tao. Crystalline system busted, he works a Giant Radio's knob.
They arrive at the metal gates of OSK, cracking, swirling nano light sentience guards the 9th dimensional data overlay, hissing in electric angst, weird statues of horrid dogs guard either side of the entrance and the shady horizon of the circular structure seems to suggest more in the distance. Electric storms buzzing outside atmospheric conditions, giant computer structure humming low frequency lullaby of processes. Agent 943.5 struggles to focus enough to interface with the fixtures properly. The low rumbling vibrates the ground hanging mist. He access his internal neural 27 augmentations, his interface breaks into the structure with a brilliant cracking of purple light, his hand passes through a blue corridor of unseen space as he makes real his intention of phasing through this circuit. A tug of electric impulse pulls him in infinite directions and he skrys each path simultaneously blinded by the brilliance of overload. Every quanta of hi self projected in all timelines focused on computing the information contained within the walls of these security systems.
"That whole Ares Unit thing? Just a Well-Devised Decoy, the true treasure lies in this." Ikipr holds up a black-translucent gem, the light vibrates off it in gradients of purple, special etchings in gold against it's onyx border. It shimmers with a spark of sentience. "These old scalar algorithms, they prove rusty, somewhat mechanical, they needed to be, oh how would you say...self-improving? Over time, yes..." He turns a up a knob and brings to a simmer the emulsifying process of Earth's Antenna played through Schumman-interfaces.
"Better than titties shooting fireworks" Op2 thinks in a *pop* whilst grabbing a bag of underwater and deepspace wielding tools and looking over the ship that just arrived @ OSK Underwater-Castle 1041. Clockwise twist of a bolt and a pat on the back "She's good to go" he says with the same confident seal of approval he's given many ships bound for lunar purifying-amplification antennae in orbital realms. A gruff cough, spit, and Op2 is onto his next scheduled maintenance tune-up. Odin puffs a strange Indian headed bowl on a pipe in the back of his mind. Fragrant pipe-tobacco alongside apricots."
He looks to Agent Milkman, whom in turn tips a clean brimmed hat with a refreshing smile, assuring you that yet another day he hasn't poisoned your children's minds with his eloptic signal jammers in liquid self replicating form. Agent Milkman Hops in a class-6 Maritime-sentient-vessel, part machine and part genetically engineered squid. Even the pulpous, purple-vomit colored soft muscles of the octopi's arms bared the signs of rust and age, not the best of vessels. And so he went off into the depths with only the tools of OSK to aide him - and words to live by "When your alignment is to OSK, remember there's always violent, hungry sharks in these waters." He plunges into unseen depths with dimly resounding lanterns, his care package at arms length in his sturdy vessel, luminous violet radiance tucked beneath a burlap cloak. He presses the switch broadcasting his Clanger-Mimicking spectrascopic vision. It may be his only guide in some of these inky waters. Constant turns give in where ounces leak through coilish proxy lead.
"This will allow us access to all systems so that we may install that psionic monopoly magick window for implementation of the controls that we've so all been waiting for." Ikipr hums in a tonal swell of intent and focus. "Masters of all engines" he smirks "We needed to break the 11th Dimensional Time Codecs all RecAyin feeds run through." A snap of darkness in a sub manned by Dr. B and Dr c. - Core Power Units failing. Murmurs in the depths go unheard.