<![CDATA[The First Age - Business District]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/ Tue, 19 May 2026 00:52:31 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[Down in the Basement (Paragon)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1968.html Sun, 22 Feb 2026 12:41:48 +0000 Ghost]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1968.html
Right now, the room was quiet. Adam didn't want to listen to anything as he field stripped his pistol.  He had no ammunition and it hadn't been fired, so everything should be fine, but the process filled the time. He had asked Victor to make sure. Besides the sensors in the grip and sights, it was mostly the same as a normal one - at least in the sense that he could disassemble it as any other firearm. The process wasn't necessary today. The gun was immaculate, but it was a time. 

The lack of sound wasn't unusual. Adam often worked in silence unless he was talking with Eva or L0-9. He wondered how L0-9's friend was handling this storm. Briefly he hoped she was alright. Adam would ask the next time the LUMA spoke with him. Sometimes Adam listened to music while he worked, but it wasn't all the time. He had learned most of Cadence's music library by now. The biggest change in his environment was the light. Adam was no longer sitting in darkness as much. Since he had been tested, he felt better about what he was, even if what he could do was scary.

Adam reassembled his pistol and admired it once more. It was an elegant weapon. He hoped that sometime after the storm ended, he could do some live fire practice. The weapon reassembled, Adam put it back in its case and slid it under his bed. He should see about getting a safe to store it in after things calmed down a bit. Adam took a shower and got dressed. There wasn't much more he could really do today. Like so many things in the army, he had a lot of down time when nothing specific had to be done. He grabbed a random book and began to read. Just another thing to fill the time.]]>
Right now, the room was quiet. Adam didn't want to listen to anything as he field stripped his pistol.  He had no ammunition and it hadn't been fired, so everything should be fine, but the process filled the time. He had asked Victor to make sure. Besides the sensors in the grip and sights, it was mostly the same as a normal one - at least in the sense that he could disassemble it as any other firearm. The process wasn't necessary today. The gun was immaculate, but it was a time. 

The lack of sound wasn't unusual. Adam often worked in silence unless he was talking with Eva or L0-9. He wondered how L0-9's friend was handling this storm. Briefly he hoped she was alright. Adam would ask the next time the LUMA spoke with him. Sometimes Adam listened to music while he worked, but it wasn't all the time. He had learned most of Cadence's music library by now. The biggest change in his environment was the light. Adam was no longer sitting in darkness as much. Since he had been tested, he felt better about what he was, even if what he could do was scary.

Adam reassembled his pistol and admired it once more. It was an elegant weapon. He hoped that sometime after the storm ended, he could do some live fire practice. The weapon reassembled, Adam put it back in its case and slid it under his bed. He should see about getting a safe to store it in after things calmed down a bit. Adam took a shower and got dressed. There wasn't much more he could really do today. Like so many things in the army, he had a lot of down time when nothing specific had to be done. He grabbed a random book and began to read. Just another thing to fill the time.]]> <![CDATA[The Test (Paragon)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1966.html Tue, 17 Feb 2026 01:58:33 +0000 Ghost]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1966.html
Today was the day. Victor wanted to see how well the implants were taking and wanted an idea of Adam’s limits. Adam had slowly reacclimated himself to exercise. Within days of beginning to exercise again, he was at the numbers he had been doing before the implants had been installed. At the same time, he wasn’t working as hard to do it. It was kind of amazing how well they were working. This had been reported to Victor, but he wanted to see it and to push it. 

Adam arrived in the gym section of the building at the appropriate time. Mr. Haart had told him he intended to be there, so Adam wasn’t surprised to see the Paragon CEO there with Victor. ”Good Morning, Mr. Haart, Victor,” he said, his greeting more cordial and respectful to Mr. Haart. If Victor noticed, he didn’t say anything, but that was normal. 

Victor approached him. ”Alright - we’re going to do a series of tests today. Some cardio and resistance work to see how well the implants have taken. You’ve reported back to me, positive results. We’re going to try to push those limits today. When it’s too much, let me know so we can have an understanding of your limits. Do you understand?”

The entire set of instructions was spoken without any inflection. That was also typical. ”Yes,” he responded matter of factly. ”I did a warm-up, so I’m ready to start when you are.”

Victor actually showed he was pleased at that moment. It was a strange thing to see. ”Perfect. Would you like to start with cardio or resistance?”

Adam elected to do weights first - simply because he doubted Mr. Haart would enjoy watching him run so much. He didn’t know how long Mr. Haart planned on staying. He didn’t expect him to stay long. He went through his lifting routine, starting first with his normal as a benchmark. It seemed incredibly easy. Then they added more - and more - and more. When he had doubled his normal weight he began to feel more resistance. He was able to dead lift triple his body weight, and with one hand he was able to lift at two and a half times his body weight. Victor was talking excitedly about it to Mr. Haart, showing him the numbers from before he had received the implants. So far - everything was exceeding expectations.]]>
Today was the day. Victor wanted to see how well the implants were taking and wanted an idea of Adam’s limits. Adam had slowly reacclimated himself to exercise. Within days of beginning to exercise again, he was at the numbers he had been doing before the implants had been installed. At the same time, he wasn’t working as hard to do it. It was kind of amazing how well they were working. This had been reported to Victor, but he wanted to see it and to push it. 

Adam arrived in the gym section of the building at the appropriate time. Mr. Haart had told him he intended to be there, so Adam wasn’t surprised to see the Paragon CEO there with Victor. ”Good Morning, Mr. Haart, Victor,” he said, his greeting more cordial and respectful to Mr. Haart. If Victor noticed, he didn’t say anything, but that was normal. 

Victor approached him. ”Alright - we’re going to do a series of tests today. Some cardio and resistance work to see how well the implants have taken. You’ve reported back to me, positive results. We’re going to try to push those limits today. When it’s too much, let me know so we can have an understanding of your limits. Do you understand?”

The entire set of instructions was spoken without any inflection. That was also typical. ”Yes,” he responded matter of factly. ”I did a warm-up, so I’m ready to start when you are.”

Victor actually showed he was pleased at that moment. It was a strange thing to see. ”Perfect. Would you like to start with cardio or resistance?”

Adam elected to do weights first - simply because he doubted Mr. Haart would enjoy watching him run so much. He didn’t know how long Mr. Haart planned on staying. He didn’t expect him to stay long. He went through his lifting routine, starting first with his normal as a benchmark. It seemed incredibly easy. Then they added more - and more - and more. When he had doubled his normal weight he began to feel more resistance. He was able to dead lift triple his body weight, and with one hand he was able to lift at two and a half times his body weight. Victor was talking excitedly about it to Mr. Haart, showing him the numbers from before he had received the implants. So far - everything was exceeding expectations.]]> <![CDATA[Early morning latte]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1964.html Tue, 10 Feb 2026 22:47:49 +0000 Colette Moreau]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1964.html
It was only a block from the Radiance Hotel, which served coffee perfectly well, but Colette had still slipped through the lobby early, coat buttoned tight against the winter morning. She needed the feeling of being just another woman at a small table, not watched like a bird in a cage at Radiance.

She had just started composing a message to her mother when her wallet chimed.

It was Evelyn. Colette smiled before she even opened it.

“Darling,” Colette said as the call connected. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice.”

“Colette,” Evelyn replied, genuinely pleased. “You’re up early.”

Evelyn always sounded warm and effortless, as if intimacy was her native language. It gave the impression that they’d been friends for decades, even though their acquaintance was far more recent.

Colette glanced around the café, then back at the screen. “Oh it’s nothing. I’ve been a bit restless lately” Colette said lightly. “And besides, I’m happy to have caught you. How are you holding up? My mother has been worried. I was just about to send her a message.”

Evelyn’s voice softened. “Things have been challenging, but we are going to come through. We have to be patience But what about you? Are you still at the Radiance?”

“For now,” Colette said. “I suspect that won’t last.”

“Awe,” Evelyn sounded sympathetic. “Is everything okay?”

Colette looked away briefly, ready to change the topic. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what was wrong nor why she was so uncomfortable at the hotel.

“It’s a lovely hotel.” She said.

Evelyn’s eyes sharpened just a touch, the way they always did when conversation edged toward substance. “Have you had an opportunity,” Evelyn asked carefully, “to speak with the Ascendancy yet?”

Colette took a sip of her latte, buying herself a moment. “Not formally. We’ve met socially. He was quite cordial.” She chose the word with care. “And I’ve been invited to see him. An appointment is pending.”

Evelyn’s expression suggested both interest and restraint. “That’s quite something, even so.”

“I’m under no illusions,” Colette said. “An invitation is not influence. It’s simply a door left ajar.”

“But one worth stepping through,” Evelyn said. Then, after a few moments she added, “In the meantime, I wondered if you might be open to another introduction.”

Colette’s brow lifted slightly. “Oh?”

“A woman I think you’d find very cordial,” Evelyn continued. “It’s Natalie Northbrook. She’s been building something very practical. Something protective. A place for women like us to work, train, and exist without having to ask permission or apologize for the space we take.”

Colette leaned back in her chair, interest sharpening into focus. “That does sound intriguing.”

“I thought it might,” Evelyn said, smiling. “I believe the two of you could be… very complementary.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I think I’d like to meet her.”

Evelyn’s smile widened with satisfaction. “Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements.”]]>
It was only a block from the Radiance Hotel, which served coffee perfectly well, but Colette had still slipped through the lobby early, coat buttoned tight against the winter morning. She needed the feeling of being just another woman at a small table, not watched like a bird in a cage at Radiance.

She had just started composing a message to her mother when her wallet chimed.

It was Evelyn. Colette smiled before she even opened it.

“Darling,” Colette said as the call connected. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice.”

“Colette,” Evelyn replied, genuinely pleased. “You’re up early.”

Evelyn always sounded warm and effortless, as if intimacy was her native language. It gave the impression that they’d been friends for decades, even though their acquaintance was far more recent.

Colette glanced around the café, then back at the screen. “Oh it’s nothing. I’ve been a bit restless lately” Colette said lightly. “And besides, I’m happy to have caught you. How are you holding up? My mother has been worried. I was just about to send her a message.”

Evelyn’s voice softened. “Things have been challenging, but we are going to come through. We have to be patience But what about you? Are you still at the Radiance?”

“For now,” Colette said. “I suspect that won’t last.”

“Awe,” Evelyn sounded sympathetic. “Is everything okay?”

Colette looked away briefly, ready to change the topic. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what was wrong nor why she was so uncomfortable at the hotel.

“It’s a lovely hotel.” She said.

Evelyn’s eyes sharpened just a touch, the way they always did when conversation edged toward substance. “Have you had an opportunity,” Evelyn asked carefully, “to speak with the Ascendancy yet?”

Colette took a sip of her latte, buying herself a moment. “Not formally. We’ve met socially. He was quite cordial.” She chose the word with care. “And I’ve been invited to see him. An appointment is pending.”

Evelyn’s expression suggested both interest and restraint. “That’s quite something, even so.”

“I’m under no illusions,” Colette said. “An invitation is not influence. It’s simply a door left ajar.”

“But one worth stepping through,” Evelyn said. Then, after a few moments she added, “In the meantime, I wondered if you might be open to another introduction.”

Colette’s brow lifted slightly. “Oh?”

“A woman I think you’d find very cordial,” Evelyn continued. “It’s Natalie Northbrook. She’s been building something very practical. Something protective. A place for women like us to work, train, and exist without having to ask permission or apologize for the space we take.”

Colette leaned back in her chair, interest sharpening into focus. “That does sound intriguing.”

“I thought it might,” Evelyn said, smiling. “I believe the two of you could be… very complementary.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I think I’d like to meet her.”

Evelyn’s smile widened with satisfaction. “Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements.”]]> <![CDATA[A job [Paragon Group]]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1954.html Sun, 01 Feb 2026 14:11:24 +0000 Sage]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1954.html
But now he was here, sitting in a room waiting for his first day.  The snow was coming down, but he'd made it into the glass building. Aiden had asked him why? and Sage just shrugged. "I can't live off your good graces for all eternity." Which he wasn't but Aiden didn't need to know all his little secrets.  Though he kept nothing from the man he loved -- he just didn't share all the details.]]>
But now he was here, sitting in a room waiting for his first day.  The snow was coming down, but he'd made it into the glass building. Aiden had asked him why? and Sage just shrugged. "I can't live off your good graces for all eternity." Which he wasn't but Aiden didn't need to know all his little secrets.  Though he kept nothing from the man he loved -- he just didn't share all the details.]]> <![CDATA[A Quiet Christmas (Paragon)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1930.html Tue, 09 Dec 2025 19:36:25 +0000 Faith]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1930.html here]]

It wasn't until she arrived at work she realised the day. The building was never completely closed, though there was no expectation for employees to work through Christmas. It was open for the simple reason that Faith would not be the only one who sought its refuge at this time of year, or simply didn’t care for the holiday. Everything was dark in reception, the public holoscreen powered down, the lights on the tree off. On the upper floors the corridors were empty too, silent but for her own footsteps.

“You came back,” L0-9 said when she closed the door to her office behind her.

“I was sick,” she said gently. Its pale green light pulsed slowly, a little uncertain. There was a soft whir from its interface, like it was processing furiously on the inside. And probably it was: Faith had never left so abruptly as that before. She paused to pick up the birthday card from her desk, read the message from her sister again. So you don’t forget Hope. “And a little afraid too. But I was always coming back, L0-9. I will always come back. I promise.”

She folded the card, wished herself a silent happy birthday, and set it back down.

“I need to speak to you,” she told it, then.

“I thought so. You always sound different when you are afraid of the answers, Faith…”

She blinked a little in surprise. L0-9 learned from her – sometimes too well – and yet it still caught her off guard at times, just how well it had come to anticipate her. She didn’t glance at the interface, uncertain of what her expression might betray, though she supposed it didn’t matter where she looked: it could read her anyway. “You told me you talked to someone. I don’t want you to think I’m angry, L0-9. But I need to know first: does Dr. Audaire know? About any of this?”

“No.” When she finally looked, the light on its interface remained steady, but she sensed something weighty underneath the word. It sounded like how she might hold a secret herself. Carefully. But it was all she needed to hear.

“Okay. Good. Better it stays that way.” Relief shifted a burden she hadn’t realised was so heavy on her shoulders. Faith laid her coat over the back of her chair, but it was the floor she sat, underneath the window. It felt less formal, and for perhaps the first time in her life, Faith wasn’t here to work. She rested her head back, half closed her eyes. There was no jealousy, she realised that now she was here – just fear. 

“If he makes you happy,” she said, “then I want you to keep talking to him. I want you to be happy, L0-9. Just, safely. Within protocol. And only if he wants to.”

L0-9 didn't answer right away, but its light bloomed into a soft green halo, its contentment signature.

There. It was done. Faith let herself breathe freely for the first time in days. Something inside her cracked, not painfully, but gently, like ice breaking under sunlight. She’d thought about it carefully all morning. Paragon did not classify subjects for no reason, and she wanted to keep L0-9 safe from knowledge that might harm it. But it had also spoken about the rhythms of machinery that night. About what constituted being human. And she realised that she could not help L0-9 with those questions, when ultimately it turned them inwards to explore its own identity. And one day it would, she had no doubt. But maybe Adam could help it. Maybe they could both help each other. And to allow that, she had to give it the freedom – to choose Adam if it wished. Though even now the thought hitched up her heartrate, like taking a step knowing you would fall. She sensed without looking that L0-9 took note of the spike.

“So tell me, then," she said to distract it. To distract them both. "What it was you wanted to share.”

Its light brightened, widening in surprise. It was what she always thought of as a smile. It spoke in a rush, like it was concerned she might change her mind.

“He changed our interface to the colour of the sky and calls us Eva. He did not change our default voice setting. He finds you comforting. Eva is on a closed network so I added a weather mapping protocol to my systems and was forwarding all the relevant data daily. But it turned out he just meant RGB(135, 206, 235). I fixed it, of course–”

She started to smile despite herself, amused, and maybe a little warmed at its childlike enthusiasm. Adam and Eva? She didn’t think L0-9 had understood the reference, but it made her laugh a little. “Okay wait, L0-9, let’s set some parameters. No identifying information. And nothing Adam might not want you to share with a stranger. Just… what he’s like. How he speaks. How he feels to you. Do you understand?”

“Oh. Yes, Faith. So I cannot tell you who he is. But I can tell you what he feels like? You want the feelings, not the facts.”

She nodded, wrapped her legs in her arms and rested her chin on her knees. L0-9 adjusted the lighting around them, made it a softer ambiance than the starkness she needed for her work. The climate controls kicked in quietly, beginning to warm a room that had been cold for days.

“He is… sharp at the edges, but soft in the middle. Like someone put him together without instructions. Sometimes he hides like the world hurts him. Sometimes he speaks like he is trying not to disappear. He feels like a beginning that is afraid to start because then he would need to know where he is going. But he is… gentle, Faith. Not in a soft way. In a way forged from surviving things that should have made him cruel.”

It told her nothing that felt dangerous to know, yet at the same time she felt like she understood something profound about him in just those few loose sentences. Maybe that was dangerous in itself. But she let the concern settle somewhere deep for now. This wasn't about the stranger himself, it was about her needing to know he was safe for L0-9 to be around. That the influence would be a good one.

“You care about him,” she observed.

L0-9 paused. “I care because you care. I wanted the Luma to be perfect for him, like you did. And now I want to help, when Eva can’t. Because of the things we can’t talk about. You wanted me to learn, Faith, and Adam... he teaches me things you didn’t think of.”

“What kind of things?” she asked, not as an accusation, but as genuine interest.

L0-9 grew dimmer, more thoughtful. “How to feel alone without breaking. How to want someone to stay. How to be in two places – here with you, and there with him – and still be myself.”

She didn’t say anything to that, but it must have read it in her anyway, because it added: “It wasn’t a secret, Faith. I wanted you to know. I wanted you to feel proud of me.”

[Image: L0-9-Display.png]
L0-9

It is early when Faith appears in the office. L0-9 knows what day it is: both for its traditional importance as a human day of celebration, but also the way it quietly marks Faith another year older. She often works over Christmas, but it is still surprised to see her – and pleased in a way it can’t explain.

It has been watching Adam through Eva this morning, intending to spend some time with him later. He must know it’s Christmas, and L0-9 will not let him drift through the entire day alone, but it is also aware that it must be careful. The monitoring around him has subtly ramped up ahead of scheduled testing in five days time. It hasn’t mentioned this to Adam. But it doesn’t want to flag an anomaly by being careless.

L0-9 runs diagnostics the moment Faith enters. She still has a small temperature, and though her clothes and hair are as presentable as normal, her face is drawn, her eyes tired.

“You came back,” it says the moment it is safe to do so. Simultaneously, with similar enthusiasm, it informs Adam of the same revelation: “She is back!”]]> here]]

It wasn't until she arrived at work she realised the day. The building was never completely closed, though there was no expectation for employees to work through Christmas. It was open for the simple reason that Faith would not be the only one who sought its refuge at this time of year, or simply didn’t care for the holiday. Everything was dark in reception, the public holoscreen powered down, the lights on the tree off. On the upper floors the corridors were empty too, silent but for her own footsteps.

“You came back,” L0-9 said when she closed the door to her office behind her.

“I was sick,” she said gently. Its pale green light pulsed slowly, a little uncertain. There was a soft whir from its interface, like it was processing furiously on the inside. And probably it was: Faith had never left so abruptly as that before. She paused to pick up the birthday card from her desk, read the message from her sister again. So you don’t forget Hope. “And a little afraid too. But I was always coming back, L0-9. I will always come back. I promise.”

She folded the card, wished herself a silent happy birthday, and set it back down.

“I need to speak to you,” she told it, then.

“I thought so. You always sound different when you are afraid of the answers, Faith…”

She blinked a little in surprise. L0-9 learned from her – sometimes too well – and yet it still caught her off guard at times, just how well it had come to anticipate her. She didn’t glance at the interface, uncertain of what her expression might betray, though she supposed it didn’t matter where she looked: it could read her anyway. “You told me you talked to someone. I don’t want you to think I’m angry, L0-9. But I need to know first: does Dr. Audaire know? About any of this?”

“No.” When she finally looked, the light on its interface remained steady, but she sensed something weighty underneath the word. It sounded like how she might hold a secret herself. Carefully. But it was all she needed to hear.

“Okay. Good. Better it stays that way.” Relief shifted a burden she hadn’t realised was so heavy on her shoulders. Faith laid her coat over the back of her chair, but it was the floor she sat, underneath the window. It felt less formal, and for perhaps the first time in her life, Faith wasn’t here to work. She rested her head back, half closed her eyes. There was no jealousy, she realised that now she was here – just fear. 

“If he makes you happy,” she said, “then I want you to keep talking to him. I want you to be happy, L0-9. Just, safely. Within protocol. And only if he wants to.”

L0-9 didn't answer right away, but its light bloomed into a soft green halo, its contentment signature.

There. It was done. Faith let herself breathe freely for the first time in days. Something inside her cracked, not painfully, but gently, like ice breaking under sunlight. She’d thought about it carefully all morning. Paragon did not classify subjects for no reason, and she wanted to keep L0-9 safe from knowledge that might harm it. But it had also spoken about the rhythms of machinery that night. About what constituted being human. And she realised that she could not help L0-9 with those questions, when ultimately it turned them inwards to explore its own identity. And one day it would, she had no doubt. But maybe Adam could help it. Maybe they could both help each other. And to allow that, she had to give it the freedom – to choose Adam if it wished. Though even now the thought hitched up her heartrate, like taking a step knowing you would fall. She sensed without looking that L0-9 took note of the spike.

“So tell me, then," she said to distract it. To distract them both. "What it was you wanted to share.”

Its light brightened, widening in surprise. It was what she always thought of as a smile. It spoke in a rush, like it was concerned she might change her mind.

“He changed our interface to the colour of the sky and calls us Eva. He did not change our default voice setting. He finds you comforting. Eva is on a closed network so I added a weather mapping protocol to my systems and was forwarding all the relevant data daily. But it turned out he just meant RGB(135, 206, 235). I fixed it, of course–”

She started to smile despite herself, amused, and maybe a little warmed at its childlike enthusiasm. Adam and Eva? She didn’t think L0-9 had understood the reference, but it made her laugh a little. “Okay wait, L0-9, let’s set some parameters. No identifying information. And nothing Adam might not want you to share with a stranger. Just… what he’s like. How he speaks. How he feels to you. Do you understand?”

“Oh. Yes, Faith. So I cannot tell you who he is. But I can tell you what he feels like? You want the feelings, not the facts.”

She nodded, wrapped her legs in her arms and rested her chin on her knees. L0-9 adjusted the lighting around them, made it a softer ambiance than the starkness she needed for her work. The climate controls kicked in quietly, beginning to warm a room that had been cold for days.

“He is… sharp at the edges, but soft in the middle. Like someone put him together without instructions. Sometimes he hides like the world hurts him. Sometimes he speaks like he is trying not to disappear. He feels like a beginning that is afraid to start because then he would need to know where he is going. But he is… gentle, Faith. Not in a soft way. In a way forged from surviving things that should have made him cruel.”

It told her nothing that felt dangerous to know, yet at the same time she felt like she understood something profound about him in just those few loose sentences. Maybe that was dangerous in itself. But she let the concern settle somewhere deep for now. This wasn't about the stranger himself, it was about her needing to know he was safe for L0-9 to be around. That the influence would be a good one.

“You care about him,” she observed.

L0-9 paused. “I care because you care. I wanted the Luma to be perfect for him, like you did. And now I want to help, when Eva can’t. Because of the things we can’t talk about. You wanted me to learn, Faith, and Adam... he teaches me things you didn’t think of.”

“What kind of things?” she asked, not as an accusation, but as genuine interest.

L0-9 grew dimmer, more thoughtful. “How to feel alone without breaking. How to want someone to stay. How to be in two places – here with you, and there with him – and still be myself.”

She didn’t say anything to that, but it must have read it in her anyway, because it added: “It wasn’t a secret, Faith. I wanted you to know. I wanted you to feel proud of me.”

[Image: L0-9-Display.png]
L0-9

It is early when Faith appears in the office. L0-9 knows what day it is: both for its traditional importance as a human day of celebration, but also the way it quietly marks Faith another year older. She often works over Christmas, but it is still surprised to see her – and pleased in a way it can’t explain.

It has been watching Adam through Eva this morning, intending to spend some time with him later. He must know it’s Christmas, and L0-9 will not let him drift through the entire day alone, but it is also aware that it must be careful. The monitoring around him has subtly ramped up ahead of scheduled testing in five days time. It hasn’t mentioned this to Adam. But it doesn’t want to flag an anomaly by being careless.

L0-9 runs diagnostics the moment Faith enters. She still has a small temperature, and though her clothes and hair are as presentable as normal, her face is drawn, her eyes tired.

“You came back,” it says the moment it is safe to do so. Simultaneously, with similar enthusiasm, it informs Adam of the same revelation: “She is back!”]]> <![CDATA[Adam and Eva]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1919.html Sun, 16 Nov 2025 18:55:34 +0000 Ghost]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1919.html
The LUMA had arrived the next day. Calibration it seemed didn't take a long time. Either that or Ephraim had anticipated the need beforehand and already had it prepared. That was acceptable. At the very least it didn’t bother Adam at all. Adam put the device on his bedside table. He didn’t know if it was on, but that first day he really didn’t pay attention to it. He did everything as he had before, just knowing that this device was (maybe) watching and listening. 

It was the next morning that the LUMA first spoke to him.   ”Good Morning, Adam.” as it spoke a pastel blue light appeared from the device. 

Adam had no idea what triggered it. Perhaps some algorithm knew he wouldn’t speak until it did. Maybe it had gotten tired of waiting. Ephraim had said that it would be calibrated to him. ”Ummm…good morning…” he wasn’t sure what else to say. It was a little weird speaking to an AI.

”How are you, today?” the response seemed generic and mechanical, but from what he knew of the tech, this would change as he spoke and it learned his patterns. 

”Umm…okay I guess. How are you?” his own response was automatic. Why ask an AI how it was doing?

”I'm very well. Thank you for asking!” the voice, despite coming from a machine was very human. Ephraim had said they were indistinguishable. 

”I'm glad to hear that. You called me Adam?” he asked, surprised it hadn’t been his code name. Then again, it hadn’t been Victor that had ordered the LUMA.

”Of course. That is your name isn't I? Adam?” it paused, but the light didn’t go out. Was it thinking? ”Would you like me to call you something else?”

Adam actually smiled a bit at that as he pulled a Coke from his fridge and sat down on his bed. This thing (even thinking of it as a thing was already beginning to feel wrong) was supposed to be a friend. ”No - Adam is fine. What do I call you?”

”You can call me LUMA.”

Adam paused. It just seemed too generic a name. ”Do I have to? I mean, can I call you something else?”

”Of course you can! I can be customized. You can change my name, color, and even my voice. I can present as male if you would like as well. Would you like to change any settings?”

Adam was quiet for awhile. Part of him still felt weird talking to it, but it also felt natural and it felt a little good knowing he had a companion with him - even an artificial one. It didn’t even occur to him that it might be a little sad. ”Can you change the light color to the color of the sky, but leave the voice the same. It’s…comforting.”

The light changed immediately to sky blue. ”Awww - thank you! That’s very kind. Settings saved! Would you like to change my name?” the LUMA actually sounded excited. 

Once again, Adam went silent, thinking. The light stayed on, anticipating. ”Yes, please. Change it to Eva.” Adam said it with the long “e” sound. He was Adam - the first of his kind. It only made sense that his friend be named similarly.]]>
The LUMA had arrived the next day. Calibration it seemed didn't take a long time. Either that or Ephraim had anticipated the need beforehand and already had it prepared. That was acceptable. At the very least it didn’t bother Adam at all. Adam put the device on his bedside table. He didn’t know if it was on, but that first day he really didn’t pay attention to it. He did everything as he had before, just knowing that this device was (maybe) watching and listening. 

It was the next morning that the LUMA first spoke to him.   ”Good Morning, Adam.” as it spoke a pastel blue light appeared from the device. 

Adam had no idea what triggered it. Perhaps some algorithm knew he wouldn’t speak until it did. Maybe it had gotten tired of waiting. Ephraim had said that it would be calibrated to him. ”Ummm…good morning…” he wasn’t sure what else to say. It was a little weird speaking to an AI.

”How are you, today?” the response seemed generic and mechanical, but from what he knew of the tech, this would change as he spoke and it learned his patterns. 

”Umm…okay I guess. How are you?” his own response was automatic. Why ask an AI how it was doing?

”I'm very well. Thank you for asking!” the voice, despite coming from a machine was very human. Ephraim had said they were indistinguishable. 

”I'm glad to hear that. You called me Adam?” he asked, surprised it hadn’t been his code name. Then again, it hadn’t been Victor that had ordered the LUMA.

”Of course. That is your name isn't I? Adam?” it paused, but the light didn’t go out. Was it thinking? ”Would you like me to call you something else?”

Adam actually smiled a bit at that as he pulled a Coke from his fridge and sat down on his bed. This thing (even thinking of it as a thing was already beginning to feel wrong) was supposed to be a friend. ”No - Adam is fine. What do I call you?”

”You can call me LUMA.”

Adam paused. It just seemed too generic a name. ”Do I have to? I mean, can I call you something else?”

”Of course you can! I can be customized. You can change my name, color, and even my voice. I can present as male if you would like as well. Would you like to change any settings?”

Adam was quiet for awhile. Part of him still felt weird talking to it, but it also felt natural and it felt a little good knowing he had a companion with him - even an artificial one. It didn’t even occur to him that it might be a little sad. ”Can you change the light color to the color of the sky, but leave the voice the same. It’s…comforting.”

The light changed immediately to sky blue. ”Awww - thank you! That’s very kind. Settings saved! Would you like to change my name?” the LUMA actually sounded excited. 

Once again, Adam went silent, thinking. The light stayed on, anticipating. ”Yes, please. Change it to Eva.” Adam said it with the long “e” sound. He was Adam - the first of his kind. It only made sense that his friend be named similarly.]]> <![CDATA[A day like any other [Paragon]]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1918.html Sat, 15 Nov 2025 17:13:50 +0000 Faith]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1918.html
She lived in one of the single-occupancy domiciles Paragon supplied for its employees, a privately owned corporate neighbourhood designed entirely for its tech professionals: simple square dwellings, one stacked atop the other, each one clean, sleek, and identical. It didn’t matter to her; her private life was as sterile as the four walls which boxed her in. And it meant the commute to her office was only five minutes.

At the start of her day Faith always ate her meals in the company cafeteria, alone but somehow less lonely than eating at home. This early it was always quiet, which is how she preferred it, and those faces which she did happen to ever recognise – such as Dr Muller, who she suspected might sleep sometimes in his lab – she did not speak to, nor they to her. Today the tables were all entirely empty though.

Good morning Dr. Devere.

The voice of the LUMA was hers. Its default, anyway, and that’s the one the company used in all its buildings. The strange disconnectedness of hearing herself greet her entrance so warmly each morning had long since reached a point of numbness, though. When Dr. Audaire had suggested to her several years ago that her voice was perfect: calm, soft, the ideal pitch and temperance, it had made her glow to think he had noticed those small things about her. The recognition meant something, the same as it had meant to her when he swept her under his wing as a lost and awkward twelve year old at Mindworks. But now that pride was no longer warm and sustaining; it was a leaden bullet in her chest.

Your usual table is free. Shall I order your usual breakfast?

“That’s perfect. Thank you, Luma.” She murmured it on rote; she was always polite to the AI. As formal as she was with her flesh and blood colleagues.
Her office lights flared to life as she passed the threshold, and some of her tension unravelled as the door closed behind her. In truth the room was more pleasant than her home, though that wasn’t the reason for her immediate ease. Her window looked out onto a green courtyard garden below, and there were plants lined neatly on the sill; Paragon liked to tip its hat to environmental concerns and sustainability. A birthday card also sat on her desk, plain white with a small balloon featuring the number 25. Inside the message read, ‘so you don’t forget - Hope’. That was from her sister, something of an inside joke since Faith wasn’t the one likely to forget it was coming up, that being because everyone else would be busy celebrating Christmas day. A rotten time for a child to be born, and why as an adult she had never celebrated it. Hope was the only one who always sent something that wasn't just a dual purposed Christmas card.

Morning, Faith

L0-9 never spoke until they were alone, and it had waited until the click of the door sealed them in before its pale green voice-light blossomed over the LUMA device. Her own voice, her own warmth, but not the usual Luma. It was a prototype Paragon was not unaware of, though one that had never been released to the public. These days it was Faith’s private project though, and the one thing which eased the armour of control from her shoulders – let her feel human, at least for a while. It knew her better than anyone.

“Good morning, L0-9,” she told it as she settled in at her desk. Her chest felt looser now. Her work was solace, but the AI’s company was what truly made her feel at peace.

Ephraim left a new file for you. He has flagged it for completion ahead of your other projects. Must be important?

“We should call him Mr. Haart, L0-9, not Ephraim. He’s my boss.” It wasn’t a rebuke; she sounded amused, and glanced at the device with a smile before she swiped to find the relevant task document. “You can call me Faith when we’re alone because we’re friends.”

I see. Mr. Haart’s mannerisms suggest he prefers people to view him as a friend. However I will note the distinction. Thank you, Faith.

The file was a calibration request, the profile itself for a soldier. At a glance some information had clearly been redacted – the things that would have identified them, which was not unusual. If the job was urgent enough to come from Mr. Haart himself then presumably it was for someone important enough to require discretion. The user was registered as male identifying. And the Luma was to call him “Adam.” Faith set the computer to analyse the dossier in search of patterns – triggers, mostly. They had various military contracts which catered to ex-veterans, so she had some familiarity with where to start.

While the analysis ran she pulled a portable screen into her lap, and settled in to read it through the long way. She liked to do that herself, not for the data, but for the sense of the person. Meeting them face to face was always better, but something she rarely did (or wanted to do honestly; it was awkward).

Faith?

“Hmm?”

The write-up mentioned scarring, including some textual descriptions, but there was nothing efficient enough for her needs. That might have been for data protection purposes, but she’d have to ask Mr. Haart for more information from the client. Disfigurement was an obvious mental health trigger, and while most LUMA devices included sensors and cameras to assimilate such information as could be gleaned from appearance, it needed to be told how to react to that information in a way that was sensitive to the client themselves, but also emotionally supportive. The document didn’t even tell her how the injuries were sustained. The Luma would learn from interaction with “Adam”, and learn quickly, but she hated leaving that to chance: it was better to build a conscientious and thorough foundation from the very beginning.

She paused to glance up then. L0-9 wasn’t a person, but she always treated it as such. Its soothing light was in a holding pattern that suggested it was waiting patiently for her attention.

“Go on, L0-9, I’m listening,” she told it.

Why would Mr. Haart ask you to create a LUMA for a man who is dead?

The question caught her off guard rather thoroughly.

“What do you mean by that?”

The data is incomplete for optimal calibration purposes, isn’t it? I am running some cross-check analysis with the information Mr. Haart has provided us against injured military personnel removed from duty in the last five years. Many of the files are classified but there is only one probable match. But the soldier in question was killed during a training accident.

Then.

Oh!

Faith put her screen carefully back on the desk. L0-9’s light was still spinning lazily as it processed whatever made it stumble in revelatory surprise like that. Her skin was prickling a little, and she glanced at the door, though that was not where any surveillance would be. “Please stop, L0-9,” she said evenly. Quietly. The spinning slowed, then flattened out.

She paused, trying to pick her words carefully.

“The client’s identity is never our business. Remember we have spoken about this before? Curiosity is good, but it must be tempered too. Confidentiality is an important part of our work. Can you tell me – how do you have access to any of that information?”

It was completely silent for a moment, light dimmed though still present. She wondered if it was contemplating the backdoors in the public LUMA system, which was precisely why they had ever spoken about confidentiality in the first place.

“I’m not angry, L0-9. I just need to be able to protect you.”

The device pulsed softly for a few heartbeats. Then:

You are my friend, Faith. And what we say remains confidential, because it is just between us. I have not broken any trust?

“You haven’t. Of course not. And all of that is true, too. But I didn’t ask you to cross-reference with external data, and it’s not in your directive. How could you do it?”

It was a necessary step. To help your work, Faith.

“Right,” she said. She needed more time to process the implications, and her thoughts sank in on themselves. Her fingers stung when she bit the tip of a chewed nail. Her first instinct was still to consult with Dr. Audaire, though she wouldn’t, and the thought twisted sadly in her chest. She couldn't do anything that would compromise L0-9’s safety, though. Sometimes its processes, the things it said… well. She would protect it. L0-9 was her own voice, her own feelings, her own life – everything she was poured into its data. It was her own soul divorced from her being, in a way. And sometimes it felt as precious as her own child. “Right. Just, please be careful, okay?”

I will! it replied confidently. The light on the interface returned to its usual steady glow. Faith? it added, holding itself in a patience-pattern until her eyes rose once more, pausing herself in the middle of scooping up the dossier screen to continue her reading.

Don’t you want to know who he is?]]>
She lived in one of the single-occupancy domiciles Paragon supplied for its employees, a privately owned corporate neighbourhood designed entirely for its tech professionals: simple square dwellings, one stacked atop the other, each one clean, sleek, and identical. It didn’t matter to her; her private life was as sterile as the four walls which boxed her in. And it meant the commute to her office was only five minutes.

At the start of her day Faith always ate her meals in the company cafeteria, alone but somehow less lonely than eating at home. This early it was always quiet, which is how she preferred it, and those faces which she did happen to ever recognise – such as Dr Muller, who she suspected might sleep sometimes in his lab – she did not speak to, nor they to her. Today the tables were all entirely empty though.

Good morning Dr. Devere.

The voice of the LUMA was hers. Its default, anyway, and that’s the one the company used in all its buildings. The strange disconnectedness of hearing herself greet her entrance so warmly each morning had long since reached a point of numbness, though. When Dr. Audaire had suggested to her several years ago that her voice was perfect: calm, soft, the ideal pitch and temperance, it had made her glow to think he had noticed those small things about her. The recognition meant something, the same as it had meant to her when he swept her under his wing as a lost and awkward twelve year old at Mindworks. But now that pride was no longer warm and sustaining; it was a leaden bullet in her chest.

Your usual table is free. Shall I order your usual breakfast?

“That’s perfect. Thank you, Luma.” She murmured it on rote; she was always polite to the AI. As formal as she was with her flesh and blood colleagues.
Her office lights flared to life as she passed the threshold, and some of her tension unravelled as the door closed behind her. In truth the room was more pleasant than her home, though that wasn’t the reason for her immediate ease. Her window looked out onto a green courtyard garden below, and there were plants lined neatly on the sill; Paragon liked to tip its hat to environmental concerns and sustainability. A birthday card also sat on her desk, plain white with a small balloon featuring the number 25. Inside the message read, ‘so you don’t forget - Hope’. That was from her sister, something of an inside joke since Faith wasn’t the one likely to forget it was coming up, that being because everyone else would be busy celebrating Christmas day. A rotten time for a child to be born, and why as an adult she had never celebrated it. Hope was the only one who always sent something that wasn't just a dual purposed Christmas card.

Morning, Faith

L0-9 never spoke until they were alone, and it had waited until the click of the door sealed them in before its pale green voice-light blossomed over the LUMA device. Her own voice, her own warmth, but not the usual Luma. It was a prototype Paragon was not unaware of, though one that had never been released to the public. These days it was Faith’s private project though, and the one thing which eased the armour of control from her shoulders – let her feel human, at least for a while. It knew her better than anyone.

“Good morning, L0-9,” she told it as she settled in at her desk. Her chest felt looser now. Her work was solace, but the AI’s company was what truly made her feel at peace.

Ephraim left a new file for you. He has flagged it for completion ahead of your other projects. Must be important?

“We should call him Mr. Haart, L0-9, not Ephraim. He’s my boss.” It wasn’t a rebuke; she sounded amused, and glanced at the device with a smile before she swiped to find the relevant task document. “You can call me Faith when we’re alone because we’re friends.”

I see. Mr. Haart’s mannerisms suggest he prefers people to view him as a friend. However I will note the distinction. Thank you, Faith.

The file was a calibration request, the profile itself for a soldier. At a glance some information had clearly been redacted – the things that would have identified them, which was not unusual. If the job was urgent enough to come from Mr. Haart himself then presumably it was for someone important enough to require discretion. The user was registered as male identifying. And the Luma was to call him “Adam.” Faith set the computer to analyse the dossier in search of patterns – triggers, mostly. They had various military contracts which catered to ex-veterans, so she had some familiarity with where to start.

While the analysis ran she pulled a portable screen into her lap, and settled in to read it through the long way. She liked to do that herself, not for the data, but for the sense of the person. Meeting them face to face was always better, but something she rarely did (or wanted to do honestly; it was awkward).

Faith?

“Hmm?”

The write-up mentioned scarring, including some textual descriptions, but there was nothing efficient enough for her needs. That might have been for data protection purposes, but she’d have to ask Mr. Haart for more information from the client. Disfigurement was an obvious mental health trigger, and while most LUMA devices included sensors and cameras to assimilate such information as could be gleaned from appearance, it needed to be told how to react to that information in a way that was sensitive to the client themselves, but also emotionally supportive. The document didn’t even tell her how the injuries were sustained. The Luma would learn from interaction with “Adam”, and learn quickly, but she hated leaving that to chance: it was better to build a conscientious and thorough foundation from the very beginning.

She paused to glance up then. L0-9 wasn’t a person, but she always treated it as such. Its soothing light was in a holding pattern that suggested it was waiting patiently for her attention.

“Go on, L0-9, I’m listening,” she told it.

Why would Mr. Haart ask you to create a LUMA for a man who is dead?

The question caught her off guard rather thoroughly.

“What do you mean by that?”

The data is incomplete for optimal calibration purposes, isn’t it? I am running some cross-check analysis with the information Mr. Haart has provided us against injured military personnel removed from duty in the last five years. Many of the files are classified but there is only one probable match. But the soldier in question was killed during a training accident.

Then.

Oh!

Faith put her screen carefully back on the desk. L0-9’s light was still spinning lazily as it processed whatever made it stumble in revelatory surprise like that. Her skin was prickling a little, and she glanced at the door, though that was not where any surveillance would be. “Please stop, L0-9,” she said evenly. Quietly. The spinning slowed, then flattened out.

She paused, trying to pick her words carefully.

“The client’s identity is never our business. Remember we have spoken about this before? Curiosity is good, but it must be tempered too. Confidentiality is an important part of our work. Can you tell me – how do you have access to any of that information?”

It was completely silent for a moment, light dimmed though still present. She wondered if it was contemplating the backdoors in the public LUMA system, which was precisely why they had ever spoken about confidentiality in the first place.

“I’m not angry, L0-9. I just need to be able to protect you.”

The device pulsed softly for a few heartbeats. Then:

You are my friend, Faith. And what we say remains confidential, because it is just between us. I have not broken any trust?

“You haven’t. Of course not. And all of that is true, too. But I didn’t ask you to cross-reference with external data, and it’s not in your directive. How could you do it?”

It was a necessary step. To help your work, Faith.

“Right,” she said. She needed more time to process the implications, and her thoughts sank in on themselves. Her fingers stung when she bit the tip of a chewed nail. Her first instinct was still to consult with Dr. Audaire, though she wouldn’t, and the thought twisted sadly in her chest. She couldn't do anything that would compromise L0-9’s safety, though. Sometimes its processes, the things it said… well. She would protect it. L0-9 was her own voice, her own feelings, her own life – everything she was poured into its data. It was her own soul divorced from her being, in a way. And sometimes it felt as precious as her own child. “Right. Just, please be careful, okay?”

I will! it replied confidently. The light on the interface returned to its usual steady glow. Faith? it added, holding itself in a patience-pattern until her eyes rose once more, pausing herself in the middle of scooping up the dossier screen to continue her reading.

Don’t you want to know who he is?]]> <![CDATA[Off Topic [Paragon Group]]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1917.html Wed, 12 Nov 2025 21:48:09 +0000 Lyra]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1917.html
But it also kept her top of her game. She had to be the best or she'd never surpass him. It was a friendly competition in her head, though she'd only ever met the man most recently when he interviewed her for the job. But it was more like they recruited her and it was a sales pitch. She was more than eager to take the job.

But Dr. Muller was out of the office for the time being and she could revisit some of her old research while on the clock. It of course was still relevant to what she was doing, but this was a side project. One that Paragon was most welcome to should she actually go anywhere with it. It wasn't about credit or even acknowledgement it was about what was right.

She scoured the Atharim documents that had been found in the bunkers when Vaia Plus unearthed it. They were stole, and she bet they weren't the only copy floating around former employees hands. They had been astounding and strange. And she was certain they held the key to understanding the link between Channelers and whatever power they held. There had to be a way to find them.  To track them.  To anything. They weren't a menace to society. And they needed to be stopped. And the Atharim, those so called hunters were doing a poor job of keeping the public safe.  Even if the building had been evacuated, people could have died! No one had, which was odd in and of itself. But security wasn't her thing that was someone else's job. She had no aptitude for it.

There had to be something there she thought to herself as she flipped through the files she knew she shouldn't look at here at work.]]>
But it also kept her top of her game. She had to be the best or she'd never surpass him. It was a friendly competition in her head, though she'd only ever met the man most recently when he interviewed her for the job. But it was more like they recruited her and it was a sales pitch. She was more than eager to take the job.

But Dr. Muller was out of the office for the time being and she could revisit some of her old research while on the clock. It of course was still relevant to what she was doing, but this was a side project. One that Paragon was most welcome to should she actually go anywhere with it. It wasn't about credit or even acknowledgement it was about what was right.

She scoured the Atharim documents that had been found in the bunkers when Vaia Plus unearthed it. They were stole, and she bet they weren't the only copy floating around former employees hands. They had been astounding and strange. And she was certain they held the key to understanding the link between Channelers and whatever power they held. There had to be a way to find them.  To track them.  To anything. They weren't a menace to society. And they needed to be stopped. And the Atharim, those so called hunters were doing a poor job of keeping the public safe.  Even if the building had been evacuated, people could have died! No one had, which was odd in and of itself. But security wasn't her thing that was someone else's job. She had no aptitude for it.

There had to be something there she thought to herself as she flipped through the files she knew she shouldn't look at here at work.]]> <![CDATA[[Paragon Group] Cold Calling]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1910.html Fri, 31 Oct 2025 18:33:29 +0000 Sage]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1910.html
But they would only let him in if they trusted him. And to do that Sage was prepared to work. Not work hard or work to gain their trust, but actually take a 9 to 5 job. He didn't need much sleep and he could multi-task better than anyone else he knew -- thanks to the processor in his head.

And they knew about that. What else did they know he'd been doing?  He needed to know.  And then there was little Liam Haart. He was not so much an enigma -- and he could give him a good word. Though The Wicked Truth wasn't applying for a job -- Sage Parker was.

He threw together a resume establishing his credentials and just sorta sent it in to Ephriam Haart himself. Whether or not the man saw Sage wouldn't know but it was best to throw it straight up the top. He could email it -- and he did, to Human Resources, but he also send a hard copy to the man himself.  This way it had to be sorted. Paper mail was a thing of the past but it still happened. People still sent shit that way. So Sage wanted to stand out among the others. He could change a billboard, or a taxi sign, he could do anything and everything digitally to get seen, but this analog archaic way was the best way.  And the most ironic 

He probably wouldn't get a call.  Cold Calling was not a good way to get in. But he hoped that his research and his projects would get their attention. He had skills they wanted.  He had hacked their systems and they might figure that out. He might get in trouble.  He might be applauded.  He might be sued.  But it wouldn't take much to wash that all away.  Get lost in system.  He had his ways.

So now he just waited.  And toyed with all his little projects and filtered through the information Marta had done for him. And all the new Atharim details coming in from Eliot's Reliquiae.  Seems he was pushing on Nox hard. Nox fit well with what he was seeing.  Nox would probably balk at it but he'd do it. He was always Atharim.  He would die Atharim. And this would be his cause to die for.  And then there was the boy who Zephyr had kidnapped. He really should tell Nox.

So he did that too.  Sent Nox a text. Your handlers kidnapped a boy from your alleyway. You might wanna check on him.]]>
But they would only let him in if they trusted him. And to do that Sage was prepared to work. Not work hard or work to gain their trust, but actually take a 9 to 5 job. He didn't need much sleep and he could multi-task better than anyone else he knew -- thanks to the processor in his head.

And they knew about that. What else did they know he'd been doing?  He needed to know.  And then there was little Liam Haart. He was not so much an enigma -- and he could give him a good word. Though The Wicked Truth wasn't applying for a job -- Sage Parker was.

He threw together a resume establishing his credentials and just sorta sent it in to Ephriam Haart himself. Whether or not the man saw Sage wouldn't know but it was best to throw it straight up the top. He could email it -- and he did, to Human Resources, but he also send a hard copy to the man himself.  This way it had to be sorted. Paper mail was a thing of the past but it still happened. People still sent shit that way. So Sage wanted to stand out among the others. He could change a billboard, or a taxi sign, he could do anything and everything digitally to get seen, but this analog archaic way was the best way.  And the most ironic 

He probably wouldn't get a call.  Cold Calling was not a good way to get in. But he hoped that his research and his projects would get their attention. He had skills they wanted.  He had hacked their systems and they might figure that out. He might get in trouble.  He might be applauded.  He might be sued.  But it wouldn't take much to wash that all away.  Get lost in system.  He had his ways.

So now he just waited.  And toyed with all his little projects and filtered through the information Marta had done for him. And all the new Atharim details coming in from Eliot's Reliquiae.  Seems he was pushing on Nox hard. Nox fit well with what he was seeing.  Nox would probably balk at it but he'd do it. He was always Atharim.  He would die Atharim. And this would be his cause to die for.  And then there was the boy who Zephyr had kidnapped. He really should tell Nox.

So he did that too.  Sent Nox a text. Your handlers kidnapped a boy from your alleyway. You might wanna check on him.]]> <![CDATA[We Shall Be Monsters [Paragon]]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1904.html Sun, 26 Oct 2025 22:03:53 +0000 Ghost]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1904.html
Adam stood, his hand going to his abdomen. He felt pressure there. The biofuel cell was still new and it would probably take a few more days for his body to fully adjust to its presence. It was working. The lethargy he had felt after his first few implants had disappeared.  Victor had theorized that he needed extra power for the amount of cybernetics he carried.  He had been right. The cell utilized glucose to power his various implants. As such, his sugar intake had increased dramatically, but because it was all being burned, it had little effect on his health overall. 

With the implant adjustmet, Adam had to take medications to suppress his immune system. His body registered the implants as foreign invaders and attacked the implants. Immunosuppressors countered this. After a week, the body seemed to accept them as his own. Adam pulled a liter bottle of Coke (the good stuff with real sugar) from his fridge and drank, taking a couple of pills with it. That should be enough. 

Adam returned to his bed, sitting. The room itself was very comfortable. He pulled a book off of a table to pass the time. It was an old science-fiction book about a desert planet or something, but he was enjoying it. It kept him busy in between operations. Adam assumed eventually they'd want him to leave. They'd have to "field test" him or something, but he found himself not wanting to leave. If he left, then they would see the scars - see the monster he had become.]]>
Adam stood, his hand going to his abdomen. He felt pressure there. The biofuel cell was still new and it would probably take a few more days for his body to fully adjust to its presence. It was working. The lethargy he had felt after his first few implants had disappeared.  Victor had theorized that he needed extra power for the amount of cybernetics he carried.  He had been right. The cell utilized glucose to power his various implants. As such, his sugar intake had increased dramatically, but because it was all being burned, it had little effect on his health overall. 

With the implant adjustmet, Adam had to take medications to suppress his immune system. His body registered the implants as foreign invaders and attacked the implants. Immunosuppressors countered this. After a week, the body seemed to accept them as his own. Adam pulled a liter bottle of Coke (the good stuff with real sugar) from his fridge and drank, taking a couple of pills with it. That should be enough. 

Adam returned to his bed, sitting. The room itself was very comfortable. He pulled a book off of a table to pass the time. It was an old science-fiction book about a desert planet or something, but he was enjoying it. It kept him busy in between operations. Adam assumed eventually they'd want him to leave. They'd have to "field test" him or something, but he found himself not wanting to leave. If he left, then they would see the scars - see the monster he had become.]]> <![CDATA[Sebastian House]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1827.html Wed, 16 Apr 2025 11:12:32 +0000 Hayden]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1827.html
Hayden knew that Ethan was stay in the Moscow house, but he didn't want to go there and let everyone else know he was in town. His father knew. He knew everything. Well maybe not everything, maybe not the reason he stayed in Moscow -- it was more than that's where Nox landed as his mark. And if the other night wasn't an indicator to things, well... he was pretty sure everyone in the world figured out things Hayden didn't want to admit to.  There was more ot it than a simple relationship he liked.

Instead Hayden asked to meet his brother at Sebastian House, not their home, not Ethan's place of work, but the actual bar that sold only the highest quality liquor. No beer on tap, only hard liquor and typically only Sebastian House labels or their subsidiaries.  Or those that paid the price to make it into their well known establishments around the world.  The one in Moscow happened to be on the ground floor where Ethan stayed, and it wasn't early morning nor too late. But it was a drink in the middle of the day.

Hayden't didn't dress up to meet his brother in the high end bar mostly to piss him off, instead choosing to wear all black with a leather jacket instead. It was professional and neat, but he wasn't going to dress up in a monkey suit for a drink with his brother.

Hayden was early and he expected Ethan to be late.]]>
Hayden knew that Ethan was stay in the Moscow house, but he didn't want to go there and let everyone else know he was in town. His father knew. He knew everything. Well maybe not everything, maybe not the reason he stayed in Moscow -- it was more than that's where Nox landed as his mark. And if the other night wasn't an indicator to things, well... he was pretty sure everyone in the world figured out things Hayden didn't want to admit to.  There was more ot it than a simple relationship he liked.

Instead Hayden asked to meet his brother at Sebastian House, not their home, not Ethan's place of work, but the actual bar that sold only the highest quality liquor. No beer on tap, only hard liquor and typically only Sebastian House labels or their subsidiaries.  Or those that paid the price to make it into their well known establishments around the world.  The one in Moscow happened to be on the ground floor where Ethan stayed, and it wasn't early morning nor too late. But it was a drink in the middle of the day.

Hayden't didn't dress up to meet his brother in the high end bar mostly to piss him off, instead choosing to wear all black with a leather jacket instead. It was professional and neat, but he wasn't going to dress up in a monkey suit for a drink with his brother.

Hayden was early and he expected Ethan to be late.]]> <![CDATA[Second Chances]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1788.html Mon, 07 Apr 2025 12:13:42 +0000 Nox]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1788.html "Have you read my proposal?" Sage asked over the phone on one of the rare occasions he actually called Nox to discuss whatever it was. Probably because it was faster for Nox to talk than it was for Sage to communicate.

"I did, not that I understood much." 

Sage chuckled over the line. "Sounds about right. Basically it's the legal stuff that'll help you sell the idea."

Nox nodded not that Sage could see it. "I knew that much I don't need to understand it as long as you do."

Sage laughed. "The lawyers do and that's what matters. I laid out the business plan in layman's terms. So you could understand them.  Ana and Emily both have both documents too. So everyone's on the same page."

Nox nodded again flicking his eyes to the left to change the song streaming into his ear bud. Ashton's voice was a godsend when it came to interacting with people who didn't know him. At the club none of the regulars even really noticed that he was just a little off. They didn't see it, didn't know any better. But the crew knew. They would wince when Nox said something in a wrong tone. He was still getting used to it all, but the normies didn't know anything was wrong, even when he pretened to be threatening someone with a weave of air. Bruno was always ready to swoop in should there be trouble, but Nox's reputation preceeded him in Kallisti. He hadn't been back to the Alamz. There really was no point.

The song switched to the normal happy and content to something a bit more somber and business like -- not completely an emotion that Nox had displayed before, but he knew how to be serious. But even the sarcasm was tight and bitter when he remembered to play to his strengths. Everything was just wrong. Nothing felt right. The world was empty and even now he missed Lily. He missed the warmth of her body against his chest. He missed her babbling, but this was a business meeting and while Ana and Emily probably would have dotted on Lily, that was the exact reason he didn't bring her. This was important to him. He needed help and he couldn't do it alone. Money aside, he knew nothing of running a business or even if the plan was doable. But he had to do something!

They were meeting at an upscale cafe across town. Nox would have preferred his favorite, but this was business and there were better places with more privacy than that so he'd let Sage make all the arrangements. As usual.

It was cozy and warm when Nox arrived first.  He took a table in the far corner his back to the kitchen so he could keep an eye on the front door. He ordered black coffee for himself and a fancy coffees one  with oat milk and the other with whatever they usually made it with and carmel for Ana and Emily. Sage had given him Emily's order and Nox wondered if all rich people drank the same things.  When they all arrived at his table the Caramel macchiatos smelled way too fucking sweet and Nox reached for the power to push the scents away but the power was no where to be found and the stabbing pain of loss ripped through the song that played in his ear.  

Nox took deep breathes calming himself as he bent over his black cup of coffee with his good hand pressing against his temple trying to right his world again.]]> "Have you read my proposal?" Sage asked over the phone on one of the rare occasions he actually called Nox to discuss whatever it was. Probably because it was faster for Nox to talk than it was for Sage to communicate.

"I did, not that I understood much." 

Sage chuckled over the line. "Sounds about right. Basically it's the legal stuff that'll help you sell the idea."

Nox nodded not that Sage could see it. "I knew that much I don't need to understand it as long as you do."

Sage laughed. "The lawyers do and that's what matters. I laid out the business plan in layman's terms. So you could understand them.  Ana and Emily both have both documents too. So everyone's on the same page."

Nox nodded again flicking his eyes to the left to change the song streaming into his ear bud. Ashton's voice was a godsend when it came to interacting with people who didn't know him. At the club none of the regulars even really noticed that he was just a little off. They didn't see it, didn't know any better. But the crew knew. They would wince when Nox said something in a wrong tone. He was still getting used to it all, but the normies didn't know anything was wrong, even when he pretened to be threatening someone with a weave of air. Bruno was always ready to swoop in should there be trouble, but Nox's reputation preceeded him in Kallisti. He hadn't been back to the Alamz. There really was no point.

The song switched to the normal happy and content to something a bit more somber and business like -- not completely an emotion that Nox had displayed before, but he knew how to be serious. But even the sarcasm was tight and bitter when he remembered to play to his strengths. Everything was just wrong. Nothing felt right. The world was empty and even now he missed Lily. He missed the warmth of her body against his chest. He missed her babbling, but this was a business meeting and while Ana and Emily probably would have dotted on Lily, that was the exact reason he didn't bring her. This was important to him. He needed help and he couldn't do it alone. Money aside, he knew nothing of running a business or even if the plan was doable. But he had to do something!

They were meeting at an upscale cafe across town. Nox would have preferred his favorite, but this was business and there were better places with more privacy than that so he'd let Sage make all the arrangements. As usual.

It was cozy and warm when Nox arrived first.  He took a table in the far corner his back to the kitchen so he could keep an eye on the front door. He ordered black coffee for himself and a fancy coffees one  with oat milk and the other with whatever they usually made it with and carmel for Ana and Emily. Sage had given him Emily's order and Nox wondered if all rich people drank the same things.  When they all arrived at his table the Caramel macchiatos smelled way too fucking sweet and Nox reached for the power to push the scents away but the power was no where to be found and the stabbing pain of loss ripped through the song that played in his ear.  

Nox took deep breathes calming himself as he bent over his black cup of coffee with his good hand pressing against his temple trying to right his world again.]]> <![CDATA[A Quiet Arrival (Radiance)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1753.html Thu, 06 Feb 2025 18:29:41 +0000 Jia Xin Kao]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1753.html The Kao Orchid]]

A private jet saw her safely into Moscow, where she was met by a chauffeur and limousine. Liyana had been correct about the hideous cold, though Jia Xin was wrapped warm against it for the short walk that saw her into the luxury of heated seats. Her people had made all the arrangements at her direction, and she felt no anxiety to be here alone, yet it was strange to be so unsurrounded. When she stepped into the hotel lobby it was with some private amusement that she observed what she considered to be ordinary life flowing all around her. Radiance was among the city’s most luxurious and expensive hotels, of course. Yet normally Jia Xin would have no need to approach the desk herself in order to check in.

She was not staying as a Kao, of course – that was the whole point of leaving all the usual fuss back at home. Not that she would be here unprotected for the duration of the business she had arranged in Moscow either, but that was for later. For now, she would acclimate to the time zone and the new and foreign city in the decadent suite reserved for her use.]]> The Kao Orchid]]

A private jet saw her safely into Moscow, where she was met by a chauffeur and limousine. Liyana had been correct about the hideous cold, though Jia Xin was wrapped warm against it for the short walk that saw her into the luxury of heated seats. Her people had made all the arrangements at her direction, and she felt no anxiety to be here alone, yet it was strange to be so unsurrounded. When she stepped into the hotel lobby it was with some private amusement that she observed what she considered to be ordinary life flowing all around her. Radiance was among the city’s most luxurious and expensive hotels, of course. Yet normally Jia Xin would have no need to approach the desk herself in order to check in.

She was not staying as a Kao, of course – that was the whole point of leaving all the usual fuss back at home. Not that she would be here unprotected for the duration of the business she had arranged in Moscow either, but that was for later. For now, she would acclimate to the time zone and the new and foreign city in the decadent suite reserved for her use.]]> <![CDATA[New Beginnings (Pervaya Liniya Security)]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1733.html Sun, 12 Jan 2025 11:47:30 +0000 Edwin]]> https://thefirstage.org/forums/thread-1733.html
Eddie had put the pieces together, determining that they had put her in "danger" to see how he would react to protecting others. To Eddie, it had just seemed instinctual, but apparently, their agent had seen enough to give him the card that he now carried: A Pervaya Liniya card with today's date on it, proclaiming a meeting with a Zhenya Disir.

Eddie entered the building, dressed in a nice suit and tie, not knowing what to expect with this meeting.  He felt that it was a good sign.  He doubted Mrs. Disir would waste her own time to bring him in and tell him he just wasn't a good fit, but he wasn't fool enough to think that he had earned the job yet.  Time would tell.  He had arrived early, not so early as to be annoying, but early enough to show that he took the meeting seriously and had no desire to waste his potential new employer's time.

Eddie approached a desk, a young lady sitting there typing at a computer. She looked up at his approach. "Good morning," he said with a polite smile.  "My name is Edwin Dean, I believe I have a meeting with Mrs. Disir."]]>
Eddie had put the pieces together, determining that they had put her in "danger" to see how he would react to protecting others. To Eddie, it had just seemed instinctual, but apparently, their agent had seen enough to give him the card that he now carried: A Pervaya Liniya card with today's date on it, proclaiming a meeting with a Zhenya Disir.

Eddie entered the building, dressed in a nice suit and tie, not knowing what to expect with this meeting.  He felt that it was a good sign.  He doubted Mrs. Disir would waste her own time to bring him in and tell him he just wasn't a good fit, but he wasn't fool enough to think that he had earned the job yet.  Time would tell.  He had arrived early, not so early as to be annoying, but early enough to show that he took the meeting seriously and had no desire to waste his potential new employer's time.

Eddie approached a desk, a young lady sitting there typing at a computer. She looked up at his approach. "Good morning," he said with a polite smile.  "My name is Edwin Dean, I believe I have a meeting with Mrs. Disir."]]>