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generator: pandoc

title: '2012-12-10-'

viewport: 'width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes'

---

"Preliminary subroutines are coming up positive." "Group seven

variables?" "Fine." The technician, absorbed, rubbed the sweat on his

brow onto his shirt cuffs. "That's the manifold stability, then. Group

six?" Yvonne watched the co-technician push himself on his wheeled chair

to another terminal. "All coming up niner-niner." "Okay group six

relays." With this the co-technician produced a key from the lanyard

around his neck, and inserted it into a recessed area in the group six

terminal console. Having done this, he looked over at the technician.

The technician then revealed a key which he used in much the same way.

"The time is four-fifteen, group six relays are," the two operators

looked at each other. "Go, go, go." As they turned their keys, the

chamber of the Sealed Patron, which until now Yvonne had completely

forgotten, flushed through with what sounded like fierce pressured air.

When she turned around, the chamber was no longer glowing its peaceful

neon blue. Emitting an anxious luminous orange light, Yvonne got the

feeling the Patron was getting ready for something. It was like staring

into a lava lamp that had just been turned on - the plasmoidic substrate

in which the Patron resided was being charged with something, warming

the beautiful maiden up. "Fifteen seconds until we transfer to tertiary

carrier groups," the action was back in front of the consoles. "You got

those new protocols loaded in memory?" The co-technician failed to

respond for a moment, "yep." "Alright go." A switch was thrown, and

suddenly the mainframe sprung alive. Switches, lights and terminal

displays behaved autonomously, performing fearsome mechanical

Mexican-waves from left to right across the room. The two operators

appeared to only pay attention to a small display unit next to the

co-technician. After some moments text flooded its screen, and then it

began, with great violence, to flash green and black. "Well done - are

groups six and seven still in memory?" "No that's been done." "How are

we going for subspace DX?" "Still waiting on a ping - no wait, we're

good." "Whose retainer?" "Empress of," the co-technician scrolled

through some text on a terminal monitor, hammering the same key quickly.

"China." The technician took a sip of something from a green bottle.

"We're good for group five I think - is she up yet?" "Yeah she's up -

mind you, we've been a bit rude, keeping her out of the loop for so

long." Yvonne turned to look at the Patron. She floated peacefully

orange, silent. "It was those tertiary group protocols - she'd

understand." "So we'll go local?" "Yeah go live locally." The

co-technician reached for a phone receiver to his left. "Hello? Yeah

this is Legs. We're going live so I'd suggest moving to emulated

terminals just in case she plays with anyone's stuff. Yeah, emulated.

Ask... um... ask Sloan, she'd know. Yeah. No worries." When he hung up

the phone and looked at his watch for some time. "That should do it."

"Okay going live," a reach was made, a switch thrown. The technician

adjusted the volume on a small speaker on his terminal. "Afternoon,

Mary!" Good afternoon. "We're going for a special energy exchange and

we've got the Empress of China on the line," the technician nattered

jovially. "We were wondering if you've be happy to oblige." For a while

there was nothing but static. Then: I see. Yvonne continued to study the

Patron in her tank. No movement, apart from those caused by the

fluid-conditioning. "You probably want to know what's going on." Another

pause: Yes. .. "The whole thing is a circus act designed to start up a

machine with an enormous amount of what you might callcosmic limiting

static friction," the technician said, taking a swig from a

khaki-coloured bottle.