02-22-2018, 02:54 PM
There were days when Marcus longed for the simple days the Sigma. The very thought surprised him. He had all but bent the universe in order to make his path cross with the Ascendancy, so that he could begin his ascension. And things had unfolded in ways he could not have possibly imagined.
And yet now it was as if he lived within the center of a hurricane. No, not the center. Adjacent to the center, feeling the buffeting winds and the painful stinging stabs of droplets of water hurled at hundreds of miles an hour. Within that nexus, events seemed to happen faster than he thought possible.
After months and years of study and marking time, proceeding methodically from one project or goal to the next, each step up the ladder careful and slow, he was suddenly bombarded with a lifetime's experience at once.
Less than one year. And yet when he sat down to look at the sheer events he had been privy to, or had precipitated, it did not seem possible.
Somehow, he found himself at the head of what was unarguably going to be the most important and powerful consulate in the empire. Streams of information as wide as rivers flowed through the it, through his very fingers.
Lists of channelers and their gifts- healing, suggestion, eavesdropping, and others- required confirmation. But hidden among those lists were other, more outlandish claims of abilities that so terrified a person to the point that they wondered if these were manifestations of the Force.- sensing wolves, smelling violence, visions, empathic skills, making things grow, enchantment.
It would take time to sift through all of these to weed out the false from the true- if any were. But from what he knew, the likelihood of at least some of them was high. He knew this from experience, as his first manifestation of the Force had been suggestion.
Those they had tapped, like Jensen James and Sanjay, were already put or were putting together wayd to teach others, however difficult. These 'classes' for lack of a better word, would be done through the consulate.
Then too, Domovoi had officers experienced with hunting the kinds of creatures the Atharim hunted. It had been a pilot program and its success meant it would be expanded throughout the empire.
And the Atharim itself. The Ascendancy wasn't clear what he wanted to do with them, but somehow they were attached to his consulate now too.
He wondered if the Ascendancy realized what he had been given. Not that he would complain. Aside from the power and connections and sheer information it fed him, it also was great training for running the empire itself. He still had years to go, he knew, in his apprenticeship. Running the Consulate would be like running a small country. He had loyalties to cultivate, connections to grow, advantages to gain, favors to be owed.
And had to watch his back while doing it. There were other consuls who might resent someone of his age being given this position, especially if they viewed it as some sort of channeler favoring on Ascendancy's part.
And all of this was too new for him to start putting his foot down. He needed to know who all the players were, especially those working for him. Their ambitions and loyalties. Most day to day decisions- in some ways the most important- would not be made by him. He would have to trust the bureaucracy. But he would do it on his terms.
A case in point was on his mind now. Natalie Northbrook-Grey, granddaughter of a Patron- and a registered channeler, he knew- had prevailed upon a mid-level functionary to be given a room in the consulate with a piano. "For research" she said. She was not Dr. Zayed, but he knew that did not negate her claims. His research did not look like research to those who did not know. The power was both the subject and the tool of inquiry.
A part of him was irritated at this allowance without his consultation. But that was something he would have to get used to, though, he was realizing. To see the flow of those under him- who they owed and what they wanted- and using it. And above all, who to trust.
It might be odd that one such as him would think of trust, but he did. He trusted people to act in their own self interest. Certainly there were the outliers, those pathologically determined to sacrifice to feed some deep gaping emotional hole, to spend themselves to death. But statistically, people were selfish bastards, and acting on that expectation would yield the highest chances of predictability.
And he had to admit he was curious. He had taken a cursory look at her file and nothing jumped out, beyond her pedigree. Well, that and that she was one who seemed to run from her family name and the privileges that came with it. He smiled to himself. Except for when she wants something. Then she was only too willing to trade on her family name and influence.
There was, perhaps, a pattern there that could be useful. In any case, the formalities had to be observed. Regardless of how she got here, she was a Northbrook-Grey, and had ties to Ascendancy.
And one never knew where things might go, either. There was always an opportunity to learn. Female channelers were still a mystery to him. There were only a handful who had signed up and they had yet to be interviewed. That blind spot bothered him.
He approached the door of the room she had requested. It had not yet been put to any use yet and would not be missed. He heard the growing insistence of a some melody being played on a piano.
He didn't bother knocking. She wouldn't hear him. And he was not going stand outside waiting in the hall either. He entered so as to not disturb her and merely watched as she seemed to be lost in her playing. He didn't really understand music beyond the mathematical underpinnings of music theory, but he could hear the repeating pattern, expanded upon at each iteration with more force and variation.
He was content to wait until she was done. It didn't appear to be research, but neither did his meditating. He was intrigued.
One of the windows must have been cracked because he noticed a slight chill in the air.
And yet now it was as if he lived within the center of a hurricane. No, not the center. Adjacent to the center, feeling the buffeting winds and the painful stinging stabs of droplets of water hurled at hundreds of miles an hour. Within that nexus, events seemed to happen faster than he thought possible.
After months and years of study and marking time, proceeding methodically from one project or goal to the next, each step up the ladder careful and slow, he was suddenly bombarded with a lifetime's experience at once.
Less than one year. And yet when he sat down to look at the sheer events he had been privy to, or had precipitated, it did not seem possible.
Somehow, he found himself at the head of what was unarguably going to be the most important and powerful consulate in the empire. Streams of information as wide as rivers flowed through the it, through his very fingers.
Lists of channelers and their gifts- healing, suggestion, eavesdropping, and others- required confirmation. But hidden among those lists were other, more outlandish claims of abilities that so terrified a person to the point that they wondered if these were manifestations of the Force.- sensing wolves, smelling violence, visions, empathic skills, making things grow, enchantment.
It would take time to sift through all of these to weed out the false from the true- if any were. But from what he knew, the likelihood of at least some of them was high. He knew this from experience, as his first manifestation of the Force had been suggestion.
Those they had tapped, like Jensen James and Sanjay, were already put or were putting together wayd to teach others, however difficult. These 'classes' for lack of a better word, would be done through the consulate.
Then too, Domovoi had officers experienced with hunting the kinds of creatures the Atharim hunted. It had been a pilot program and its success meant it would be expanded throughout the empire.
And the Atharim itself. The Ascendancy wasn't clear what he wanted to do with them, but somehow they were attached to his consulate now too.
He wondered if the Ascendancy realized what he had been given. Not that he would complain. Aside from the power and connections and sheer information it fed him, it also was great training for running the empire itself. He still had years to go, he knew, in his apprenticeship. Running the Consulate would be like running a small country. He had loyalties to cultivate, connections to grow, advantages to gain, favors to be owed.
And had to watch his back while doing it. There were other consuls who might resent someone of his age being given this position, especially if they viewed it as some sort of channeler favoring on Ascendancy's part.
And all of this was too new for him to start putting his foot down. He needed to know who all the players were, especially those working for him. Their ambitions and loyalties. Most day to day decisions- in some ways the most important- would not be made by him. He would have to trust the bureaucracy. But he would do it on his terms.
A case in point was on his mind now. Natalie Northbrook-Grey, granddaughter of a Patron- and a registered channeler, he knew- had prevailed upon a mid-level functionary to be given a room in the consulate with a piano. "For research" she said. She was not Dr. Zayed, but he knew that did not negate her claims. His research did not look like research to those who did not know. The power was both the subject and the tool of inquiry.
A part of him was irritated at this allowance without his consultation. But that was something he would have to get used to, though, he was realizing. To see the flow of those under him- who they owed and what they wanted- and using it. And above all, who to trust.
It might be odd that one such as him would think of trust, but he did. He trusted people to act in their own self interest. Certainly there were the outliers, those pathologically determined to sacrifice to feed some deep gaping emotional hole, to spend themselves to death. But statistically, people were selfish bastards, and acting on that expectation would yield the highest chances of predictability.
And he had to admit he was curious. He had taken a cursory look at her file and nothing jumped out, beyond her pedigree. Well, that and that she was one who seemed to run from her family name and the privileges that came with it. He smiled to himself. Except for when she wants something. Then she was only too willing to trade on her family name and influence.
There was, perhaps, a pattern there that could be useful. In any case, the formalities had to be observed. Regardless of how she got here, she was a Northbrook-Grey, and had ties to Ascendancy.
And one never knew where things might go, either. There was always an opportunity to learn. Female channelers were still a mystery to him. There were only a handful who had signed up and they had yet to be interviewed. That blind spot bothered him.
He approached the door of the room she had requested. It had not yet been put to any use yet and would not be missed. He heard the growing insistence of a some melody being played on a piano.
He didn't bother knocking. She wouldn't hear him. And he was not going stand outside waiting in the hall either. He entered so as to not disturb her and merely watched as she seemed to be lost in her playing. He didn't really understand music beyond the mathematical underpinnings of music theory, but he could hear the repeating pattern, expanded upon at each iteration with more force and variation.
He was content to wait until she was done. It didn't appear to be research, but neither did his meditating. He was intrigued.
One of the windows must have been cracked because he noticed a slight chill in the air.