As they went down the elevator and, at the last minute were given hidden identifications, Zadok couldn't help but think that it was nothing short of a miracle that Serenity hadn't been discovered and destroyed by the World Government, with how sloppy they are when it comes to security.
After that lackluster explanation, no one's supposed careers were going to hold up for very long under even light interrogation.
It took an excruciating amount of time before this newfound group settled in. Sierra paused in the room dedicated to her long enough to mark the bed and cleanliness, toss her jacket on the floor, then went exploring. She found some gum somewhere that she popped into her mouth and began chewing loudly, stretching as she strutted down the halls. Wearing a long sleeve top that'd seen much wear and tear, its translucent fabric didn't hide the silhouette of her arms. Sierra knew of prosthetics that looked just like normal arms; complete with synthetic blood vessels and muscles, but most were unattainable to her family, and quite boring. Who wants a fake of something real?
Sierra poked her head into the first she came across, and did so with every room that presented itself in the hallway. She hadn't quite expected to be staying here for two days but, then again, her family wouldn't be missing her. Master promised he'd soothe things over with them without making them aware she was joining Serenity. The mere thought sent shivers through her connected nerves. "Gah, must be chilly," she said to the empty space, rubbing where flesh connected to metal. She huffed. "Man, this is boring…" her voice trailed off as she came to one room that, finally, held an occupant willing (or not) to talk. The priest. Sierra froze in his doorway with one leg paused midstep, her arms folded behind her head as she blinked at him.
A wide grin split her face. "Just the man I wanted to see!" It was a complete lie, of course. Sierra having no prelude thought to anything she did, but in this moment it was completely and irrevocably the truth. Without permission, she entered his room. She stuck herself in front of him and held out a hand. "Didn't exactly get a proper introduction in, did we? Name's Sierra. And what's yours, Gramps?" Her head tilted to one side as her gaze flicked up and down his frame, taking him in earnest for the first time.
Zadok had sat alone on a bed he did not need in a room with not much else in it. It was the very definition of spartan, with gray plain walls and with a gray plain floor, but he did not pay attention to his more immediate surroundings. He had left the group in search of a data port and found it, and was once more connected into the closed network that was Serenity HQ. Streams of images flowed across his mind, taking in all the data that the network had to offer. It was why, after a brief view through available camera feeds, he was able to see Sierra walk down the corridor and open every door for about ten minutes. Inevitably, she would come to his door and he remotely unlocked it from where he was sitting and turned to face his visitor.
The door opened to reveal him sitting on a bed and facing Sierra, as if waiting for her all along. <"Hello, Sierra."> Zadok spoke, his voice soothingly and melodically modulated as if he was gently singing with every word. <"It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Father Allen, Artisan-Priest of the Cult of the Machine. But Zadok will suffice. Is there anything I may help you with?>" He stared at her, both with his golden natural right eye and the red lens of his artificial left eye.
Sierra popped her gum. "So...is Zadok your first name or last?" She waved a dismissive hand in front of her face. "Nevermind, doesn't matter I suppose. I'll call you Gramps 'cause you seem old. You don't look that old but you seem like it."
Her arm was still raised, waiting to be shaked. Eyebrows peaked as she looked pointedly from her hand to him. "Well? It's rude to start something without a proper handshake."
<"Zadok is my primary designation, but if you desire to refer to me as 'Gramps', I do not mind. And forgive me, it has been quite some time since I have had the opportunity to converse with unaltered voices."> Hesitantly, as if worried that he was doing it wrong, he reached up to take her hand and shook it tightly. <"My memory on classical social customs is a little old, but isn't it also rude to enter someone's quarters without being asked to come in?">
Sierra stared blankly at him for a solid second before breaking into a laugh. "I guess huh? It ain't followed in my house though. Too many people in other people's business. Speaking of," letting his hand go, she hopped on his bed, giving it a few bounces before settling in a cross-legged position. "Your electroos. Those are what they are, yeah? Tell me about them."
She leaned forward with hands on her knees and stared eagerly. Ever since she saw that tell-tale blue glow peeking from beneath his clothes, she just
had to know. People in her district hardly ever had them. She understood they could hold information, and she was dying to know just how that worked. Did his deep and darkest secrets glow bright with neon blue finesse? What did the patterns stand for? How much info could be held in just a speck? Was ink even involved? So many questions piled through she nearly forgot to pay attention to his answer. She fidgeted, wiggling back and forth a bit to get more comfortable, then started tugging at a ball chain visible around her neck, but what hung on it disappeared beneath her shirt. Sierra's eyes trained on Zadok, making every effort to listen intently, but they wandered around occasionally, roaming the empty room.
<"Ah. Hungering for fresh knowledge, I see. You have come to the right person. Sit, and I will share with you what I know."> He swiveled to face her, the few electoos in the shape of thick lightning, glowing a soft electric blue. <"Electoos, or electrical tattoos, are subcutaneous tattoos that lay inbetween the dermis and epidermis. They consist of crystalline circuit technology that allows the user to store or manipulate digital information as part of their own body. It begins with an inert layer of conductive film that is inserted beneath the skin which forms the foundation. Crystal circuitry is then layered on top of the film with any waste material being dissolved out of the body. From there, the electoo can be programmed to function as any form of digital control or monitoring device. In certain districts and corporations, everyone carries an electoo containing personal details, credit ratings, security grades, and details of their social record. All together, this information acts both as a police file and an automatic crediting facility. Through sensors, it is possible to easily, and cheaply, keep track of everyone entering and leaving buildings. Additionally, when a bearer purchases anything, tills automatically modifies the credit rating of the electoo owner accordingly. Because of how much data the crystal circuits can store, it is possible to accomplish everything I had just said through an electoo the size of a pin-head.>"
"A pin head?" Both eyebrows raised as Sierra considered this. "If that's all it takes, why do you got so many? How extensive are yours? Do those patterns have any effect?"
Sierra wrapped the chain around a finger and tugged it. She leaned forward, her attention starting to narrow on to him as their conversation held her interest. "Why do you need them anyways?"
<"Normally, electoos are unpowered and invisible. It is entirely possible that you possess an electoo somewhere on your body that you are unaware of, but it is unlikely. For me, and JD, we have skinplants. Instead of mere circuitry that electoos offer, skinplants are functioning devices that are inserted in between the layers of skin. The more popular applications of this idea is to power and control an electrically-sensitive tattoo, whether it's in the shape of a clock around the wrist, an advertisement or logo on the forehead, or even a light-emitting patch on the palm that is popular among criminals as 'thief's light'. For JD, the electoo is cosmetic. For me, and for every other disciple of the Cult of the Machine, it is so that the manna of the Machine-God can reach each and every one of us. From the Prime-Fabricator to the lowest of disciples, the electric majesty of our God touches all of our souls. We do it to feel closer to the Omnissiah, and to the machines that we tend to. The machine's joy becomes our joy, the machine's pain becomes our pain, and the machine's love becomes our love. Through the electoos, the faithful are rewarded with the bounty of data and the sweet nectar of pure information.>"
Her gum popped. She'd been nodding, following along, perplexed that
she may have an electoo (sure to lead to a thorough examination of herself later, for she'd never rest easy until she knew for certainty). But then Zadok started going about his cult or other, Gods and manna. She didn't really get it. No one had time for religion in her family. They were much too busy and, besides, it didn't put food on the table. So, by the time, he was finishing his explanation her attention rapidly tapered off. Her fidgeting increased tenfold until she finally burst into a loud sigh and got up. "Sure, sure. Makes sense I suppose…'sweet nectar of info' is kinda weird though."
Walking over to him, she took his arm and plucked at his sleeve, pushing it back to look closer at his electoos. "So? What data you got in here anyways?" she asked, poking at one of them.
<"Knowledge is power, this is the first and only credo of the Cult Mechanicus. It is… difficult for the unaugmented to understand the rush of raw data, the joys of a new revelation."> As she rolled up the sleeves of his right arm, all the she found was metal going all the way up to the shoulder. When she neared the elbow, Zadok gently wrapped his metal digits around her arms, the sensors on his fingertips tasting the chemical composition of the metal that made up her cybernetic arm. <"Please stop. It is rude to gaze upon the augments of a priest. And these electoos do not store information but allow for the free-flow of data. It is similar to the difference between a lake and a river.">
Sierra's eyes lit up as if she just came upon the newest model of a flamethrower augment. She managed to run her finger along his arm before he stopped her, to which she huffed and looked at him reproachfully. "What? You shy or something?" It was a tease, but now she was dying to know about his arm, the idea electoos abruptly dropped like stale bread in place of this new and somewhat secretive thing. They were boring her anyways; they sounded more like Arnos' things than hers, the cybernet wiz of her family. Standing straight, she decided she didn't want to be hold up in this dingy room. If she didn't know better, they were the only two people in the whole entire complex. Where was the noise? Where was the activity?
"Hey Gramps," she looked down at him. "Let's go exploring. I want to hear about your augments but it's too quiet here. Ya know?" The necklace wounded around a metal digit and her gum popped. "We can find the cafeteria. Get some food, yeah?"
Zadok ignored her teasing and rolled his purple sleeves back down. It was only natural that she would be interested in the custom augments of a tech-priest. He had designed and built those hands decades ago and they have served him well ever since. <"I do not need to consume anything at the moment. But if you desire company, I will go with you."> He stood up straight and opened the door ahead of them. <"I believe it is 24 meters left, and then 34 meters right. Let us go.>"
Sierra stared at him as he walked out. "You don't really get the idea of exploring, do you?"
She didn't argue much farther on the point, feeling her empty insides make an extra loud complaint. "Damn, I'm going to get spoiled here," she muttered to herself. She was used to rationing out crackers over a week so the idea of a free cafeteria down the hallway remained obscenely fantastical and too good to be true. Then again, it wasn't like she had any concept on how military operations worked. Serenity was nothing more than a means to an end for her, for now, and one she'd selfishly enjoy every minute of. But the reminder of what she and this odd priest had signed up for, brought the first semi-serious expression across her face. It was the equivalent of the tiniest crease in her forehead and a half-smirk.
"Say, Pops-- ah, no. Gotta stick with Gramps. Gramps: why are
you here?"
Zadok was surprised at the extravagance of the kitchen, but given the fact that they were all given rooms to share instead of a singular barrack was telling as to how many resources Serenity had under their control. At the very least, he was expecting a nutrient paste dispenser, fast, cheap, easy, nutritious, but utterly bland, but instead he found a fully stocked kitchen.
"<I could no longer stand by and watch evilness and cruelty spread and do nothing. I believe that the Cult Mechanicus is too focused on Tilea, and therefore are blind to tyrannies elsewhere. This city is my home, I will do everything I can to protect it and it's people, through the grace of the Omnissiah.>"
"
Whoa!"
Dashing in front of him, Sierra clapped her metal hands together, practically salivating at the smells. "Oh man! This by far is the best part of the whole day." She began rummaging through the cupboards and drawers while Zadok spoke. She made a snort at his rather vague reasoning, feeling it to be weak, but she was ready to shrug it off. To each their own, right? She asked out of mere curiosity; whether he gave a straight answer or not was his business.
She made a face as she knelt to one of the lower cupboards, sticking her head in just as Zadok stopped talking. "Omwi-wha- ow!!" Banging her head, Sierra grabbed the hurt with both hands, before more carefully extracting herself from the kitchen storage and giving him a look. "Omni-s-iaha? What the hell is that?" she asked, still rubbing her head.
"<Omnissiah. Are you alright?>" Zadok corrected her and then asked, concerned as he leaned closer to Sierra. "<Do you have brain damage?>"
"Since the day I was born, according to Cat," Sierra muttered. She flapped Zadok away with both hands. "It's fine, I think the cupboard…" she looked down, seeing a Sierra-head-shaped dent on the upper part of the cabinet. She blinked at it. "I have no idea how that go there," shrugging, she closed it. "Tell me about this Omnissichah." Sierra got up, deciding to grab the first food she laid eyes on, and carrying them to a nearby table. It was mostly an assortment of chips, protein bars, a banana and a jug of water. Popping open a bag of chips, she offered one to Zadok.
<"Omnissiah."> Zadok corrected her once again and declined. <"No thank you. And the Omnissiah is part of the trinity that serves as the foundation of our worship alongside the Machine-God, the omnipotent spirit that rules over all machinery and the creator of all knowledge, and the Motive Force, which is the energy that powers all living things and grants them motion. The Omnissiah is the physical manifestation of the Machine-God. They know all and comprehend all. It is one of our holy tenants and it serves as a guide for all Mechanites and a path for all priests, all for the sake of being closer to our god.">
"That's what I said," Sierra answered his correction. She shrugged and went about stuffing her face as he talked, inhaling everything, slowing down only a little when she noticed he'd stopped talking. She paused and swallowed. "Um...so, I didn't really catch all that but it sounds lame if you ask me. Why should I worship stuff that I can make with my own hands?" she hit one arm with a fist, making a clinking sound. "Worshiping sounds like a waste of energy if you ask me."
Zadok tilted his head, almost appearing confused. "<That is precisely why you should honor the Omnissiah. When you create something successfully, you have applied the divine knowledge that you have gained and inadvertently followed the Machine-God's laws. A machine that isn't built upon the holy principles of thermodynamics will never function. The knowledge that you possess, and the techniques learned from them, is not fundamentally yours. It is a gift, to use responsibly and for the ultimate benefit of mankind. Otherwise, what is the point of it all?>"
"What is-- whatever I damn well please, that's the point," Sierra, groaning, scratched the side of her head.
"Listen, Gramps. I don't know what kind of nonsense you're spouting but I didn't get 'blessed' or 'inadvertently acquire' from some Omnissiwack to get these." Holding out her hands in front of her, she flexed them, moving the fingers up and down as if playing the piano before splaying them out wide. She stared at them briefly, an odd seriousness momentarily crossing her face. She sighed, lowering them to pick up the banana, and then pointed it at him. "What I had to do, there ain't no blessing or holiness about it. It was straight up hardwork and pain. There wasn't no forgiveness or pleasure in it, Master certainly made sure of that," she grumbled the latter. Giving a one-shoulder shrug, she withdrew the banana and began peeling it. "I worked damn well hard for what I have now, and it ain't much, I'll tell you. So don't you go saying what I've earned isn't mine."
Zadok blinked and raised his hands in surrender. "<Ah, I did not mean to imply that the knowledge that you have gained was not earned. Please, forgive me Sierra, it has been quite some time since I had conversed with the unaugmented. To us Mechanites, knowledge is divine and to comprehend and apply that knowledge so effectively is what makes us unique and dominant on this planet. But, it is how we apply that knowledge is what defines us. Take a look at my hands. I, too, have designed and built these augmentations. We both followed the same principles and we both adhered to the same rules, but look at the differing conclusions. Under the surface, our augments are as unique to us as our fingerprints. With more meaning in fact, for these prosthetics in their design ultimately reflect the designer. And from your augments, I can tell that you are very intelligent and very skilled. You respect the Machine-God and the Omnissiah with your designs, if unintentionally. But please, tell me more about this…
Master . Is he your teacher?>"
Sierra paused mid-bite to yawn, rubbing her side. She perked up when he raised his augmentations but his explanation seemed lost on her. She smirked at his compliments, thinking no one really said that about her, but blinked with surprise when he brought up her "master". She lowered the banana, a queasy feeling unsettling her. "Ah, yeah. He used to work for Serenity actually. He taught me everything I know about being a mechanic," she grinned, wide and smug, "He designed his own body actually. The man's artist, I tell ya, and a damn good cyborg combatant to boot. One punch on the wrong side, I got knocked out for
three days can you believe it? It was such a wild move too." She laughed as she made a fake punch to the left side of her head, seemingly giddy just remembering the moment, even though it'd led to her getting hurt. "He's the reason I was able to get into this, believe it or not."
Zadok wasn't blind to Sierra's discomfort. <"Does your master inflict physical harm to you regularly?"> He asked, somewhat bluntly.
"Huh? Well, yeah, it's part of his training. Or--" another yawn broke her sentence, but her breath hitched. She flinched with discomfort. "Heh well he'd say I started it. He's impossible to sneak up on but I swear, I'll get him one day."
Sierra grinned wide, imagining that moment with sadistic glee. Another yawn, however, interrupted her reverie and she last sighed. "Hey Gramps, thanks for the talk but I should probably steal a nap before our Brooding Leader decides to call a group meet or something."
Getting up, she scooped her mess of wrappers and peels into her arms, tucking the water beneath one to take with her as she threw it all away. She raised a hand as she went past him to go back to her room. "It's been real though. Can't say much about your Omnisiinah, but glad you showed those augments." She started walking past him, taking her time to stretch, as she went behind him.
All of the sudden, Sierra spun on her heel and aimed a punch right for the back of his skull.
<"Knowledge is a gift, that can be freely shared."> Zadok didn't say anything else on the matter. <"And anytime. If you are curious and wish to know more, I aim to establish a regular service for the mechanic Mechanites soon, I would very much like to see you there."> As Zadok turned he, lacking sensors at the back of his body, didn't register Sierra's punch until it collided with the back of his skull. He took a step forward with the momentum and paused, surprised, before quickly turning to Sierra and bringing his face close to hers. His golden eye was narrowed and his voice, where before it was calm and serene, was now harsh. <"May I ask why you decided to randomly strike a fellow teammate while their back is turned?">
"Wanted to see what you're made of," Sierra replied, nonplussed by his proximity or change of tone. She flexed her hand and flipped it to ensure continuous working order. "Gotta a tough skull that's sure. Need to work on that vigilance though, you never know when you'll be attacked next or from where."
Grinning, she patted his shoulder. "Glad to see you gotta bite to you."
She waved and left. When Zadok returned to his room, he'd find Sierra sleeping peacefully in the opposite bed, hugging her pillow with her entire body and giving off soft snores. If anyone had left their personal items there, they'd be mysteriously moved to the room originally designated to her, although perhaps no would notice because the name tags were also mysteriously switched. Sierra has no idea how this happened.
Zadok stared, but backed off a little bit. <"You do not need to tell me that. Before even your grandmother was born, I was one of the original Crusaders during the Great Machine Jihad. If you desire to see what I am capable of, then you are welcome to spar with me. Until then,
do not hurt your allies . Comrades do not sneak-attack each other, such acts would only erode trust.">
The Crusaders were well-known during the events of the machine revolution as part of the militant wing of the Cult Mechanicus. An all-cyborg force armed with galvanic weaponry, they were mind-linked to each other and fought as a tightly-bond and extremely well-coordinated unit, suppressing all emotion that would be detrimental to combat and running entirely on data and under the command of the logic-imperatives of their commanders. They were famous for leading raids against the rebelling omnics and for saving countless human lives from their wrath.
