08-27-2013, 07:21 PM
****
Rushi looked up from the monitors which had been occupying his attention. Beyond the transparent screens glowing with real time data collection and through the dim sheet of a one-way mirror, Subject twenty-two was suddenly laughing.
"His heart rate is spiking," Rushi heard his colleague announce. He tucked a pap pen into the pocket of his labcoat and crossed to the vitals screen to study the electrical signals coursing sharply in rhythm to Alric's heart.
Rushi slid the screen aside and pulled up the EEG. "Oscillatory activity is going into phase reset." He glanced once more at Subject twenty-two, though no longer laughing, the man appeared no different than any other patient. Restraints kept his arms and legs in place on the gurney; a measure frequently deemed necessary. Subjects could injure themselves ripping out IV's, or interfering with any number of procedures. He was just one of a hundred in gray scrubs, only his bore the block lettering of his ID number.
Rushi frowned, unsatisfied by what he saw, and returned his attention to the screen. A few finger swipes and he was looking at a digital reconstruction of the man's prefrontal cortex. "It fires like ..." he gaped and looked closer, hardly believing his own discovery, "like he's been dosed with cocaine."
****
Suddenly, Nikolai turned sharply, staring into the distance, expressionless. Where a moment before, there was nothing but the chill circulation of air conditioning and the threat of the Power he held. Now, he sensed a flood. He felt it clearly and judged it.
The main agent at his side checked his earpiece and watched the Ascendancy with a heightened sense of awareness. For whatever it was which overtook his man's posture, he was doubly on guard.
With full expectation they would remove themselves from his path, Nikolai cut around the two women without another moment's hesitation. The Agents surrounded him as he strode, though it was clear they were unsure where their man was heading. Finally, Director Stephensen stumbled forward, but not before fixing Dr. Weston and Krasivolkya with a stare. He waved that they ought to follow.
Nikolai entered a dimly lit control room. Desks were connected to the ceiling with transparent panes of electronics. Three walls were made of one-way glass beyond which were brightly lit procedure rooms. Two scientists floated between a pair of panels; they both turned at his entrance. The Ascendancy ignored them, and moved immediately to one window behind which the young man which was flooded with power. His power.
He stared in disbelief, and reached greedily for more, enough that he would need to strain to manage it. His soul ached for more, but a quiet place in the back of his mind cautioned willpower, and from the calm of his training, he resisted the urge to draw it all. Or to render every living creature in sight to no more than mere ash and dust. A fate he was on the verge of casting. One quick, decisive moment. It'd be as easy as breathing.
"Who is he?"
He demanded.
"Subject twenty-two." A voice behind him answered uncertainly. Nikolai did not respond, supposing it didn't matter who this man was. He was going to ask himself.
He directed an order to the two scientists. "Turn those off. You will not be monitoring me."
One of the agents stepped up to see the command was carried out. They immediately tapped codes into the system, and the panels went dark. A moment later, the Ascendancy, god, ruler of half the world, and Apollyon of Man, crossed the partition and entered the procedure room. Two agents followed. He assumed the others waited in the room beyond the mirror, watching.
Nikolai wore disbelief and threat like a billowing cloak, and before this rival his countenance took a dangerous turn. This was his domain. His world. He was safe wrapped in layers of earth. Powerful and safe. Suddenly his mind swirled with thoughts of Dayton; of Trano, of what he dismissed as stress and fatigue. But the poison of doubt was now too gangrenous to ignore; he had to determine the source of all this. At the moment, it was the anonymous boy strapped to the gurney before him.
"Who are you?"
Rushi looked up from the monitors which had been occupying his attention. Beyond the transparent screens glowing with real time data collection and through the dim sheet of a one-way mirror, Subject twenty-two was suddenly laughing.
"His heart rate is spiking," Rushi heard his colleague announce. He tucked a pap pen into the pocket of his labcoat and crossed to the vitals screen to study the electrical signals coursing sharply in rhythm to Alric's heart.
Rushi slid the screen aside and pulled up the EEG. "Oscillatory activity is going into phase reset." He glanced once more at Subject twenty-two, though no longer laughing, the man appeared no different than any other patient. Restraints kept his arms and legs in place on the gurney; a measure frequently deemed necessary. Subjects could injure themselves ripping out IV's, or interfering with any number of procedures. He was just one of a hundred in gray scrubs, only his bore the block lettering of his ID number.
Rushi frowned, unsatisfied by what he saw, and returned his attention to the screen. A few finger swipes and he was looking at a digital reconstruction of the man's prefrontal cortex. "It fires like ..." he gaped and looked closer, hardly believing his own discovery, "like he's been dosed with cocaine."
****
Suddenly, Nikolai turned sharply, staring into the distance, expressionless. Where a moment before, there was nothing but the chill circulation of air conditioning and the threat of the Power he held. Now, he sensed a flood. He felt it clearly and judged it.
The main agent at his side checked his earpiece and watched the Ascendancy with a heightened sense of awareness. For whatever it was which overtook his man's posture, he was doubly on guard.
With full expectation they would remove themselves from his path, Nikolai cut around the two women without another moment's hesitation. The Agents surrounded him as he strode, though it was clear they were unsure where their man was heading. Finally, Director Stephensen stumbled forward, but not before fixing Dr. Weston and Krasivolkya with a stare. He waved that they ought to follow.
Nikolai entered a dimly lit control room. Desks were connected to the ceiling with transparent panes of electronics. Three walls were made of one-way glass beyond which were brightly lit procedure rooms. Two scientists floated between a pair of panels; they both turned at his entrance. The Ascendancy ignored them, and moved immediately to one window behind which the young man which was flooded with power. His power.
He stared in disbelief, and reached greedily for more, enough that he would need to strain to manage it. His soul ached for more, but a quiet place in the back of his mind cautioned willpower, and from the calm of his training, he resisted the urge to draw it all. Or to render every living creature in sight to no more than mere ash and dust. A fate he was on the verge of casting. One quick, decisive moment. It'd be as easy as breathing.
"Who is he?"
He demanded.
"Subject twenty-two." A voice behind him answered uncertainly. Nikolai did not respond, supposing it didn't matter who this man was. He was going to ask himself.
He directed an order to the two scientists. "Turn those off. You will not be monitoring me."
One of the agents stepped up to see the command was carried out. They immediately tapped codes into the system, and the panels went dark. A moment later, the Ascendancy, god, ruler of half the world, and Apollyon of Man, crossed the partition and entered the procedure room. Two agents followed. He assumed the others waited in the room beyond the mirror, watching.
Nikolai wore disbelief and threat like a billowing cloak, and before this rival his countenance took a dangerous turn. This was his domain. His world. He was safe wrapped in layers of earth. Powerful and safe. Suddenly his mind swirled with thoughts of Dayton; of Trano, of what he dismissed as stress and fatigue. But the poison of doubt was now too gangrenous to ignore; he had to determine the source of all this. At the moment, it was the anonymous boy strapped to the gurney before him.
"Who are you?"