[b]Mosaic![/b]

The Omn device is a creature of Empire. It understands power and it understands how to accumulate it. There is a science to this; to the breaking of kinship groups, to the establishment of ideologies, to the manipulation of ambition. It wouldn't even be difficult. In a small crisis, power flows towards the centre and it can help you be that centre. Each piece of advice has it's own swirling logic, each decision naturally implies multiple other decisions, the Imperial structure of government has a dread logic all of its own that makes it a natural resting point.

But it doesn't argue if it's pushed back at. You want to do things another way? Well, that's just a fact of the universe now as far as Omn is concerned, so now it's time to follow through on the implications of that idea. And that's the space you enter now, a strange world of glimpses into future problems. Do things this way and this social group will accumulate power. Do things that way and this group will be marginalized. Allow this freedom and watch as an organization emerges to exploit it. In the end it all comes down to who has power. If anyone except you has power, then you don't know what they're going to do with it.

So what [i]is [/i]the distribution of power that Mosaic allows here? Will she empower community leaders, appointed praetors, individuals? Will she favour the military or the artists? Who rules in the city that she wants to live in?

[b]Ember![/b]

... and immediately set back because neither of your rivals is bound by consideration for the ship. The rival packs form and move to begin seizing centers of power. Pundering Fang's forces spread widely and begin administering the ship's agricultural systems, offering tempting feasts to draw people into her system of patronage. Sagetip concentrates around urban centers of power and prestige - the temple deck, the Engine, the Bridge. Each candidate only has a few committed loyalists, the rest are fair-weather supporters drawn in by speeches and promises, but they have planted their banners and are seen to be leading even as the world grinds to a halt around them. If this goes on too long, as well it might without your intervention, the [i]Slitted [/i]might affect enough repairs to give chase.

When it is time to enter the contest, how do you?

[b]Dyssia![/b]

[i]Perfect. [/i]

The Endless Azure Skies are perfect. Through genius design and relentless willpower they have outlasted the death of stars. Even the wounds are part of the structure; even these wounds will heal. A distributed organizing principle, an idea with no centre and no end. It is the end goal for a civilization, and the civilization works backwards towards it. Thought, will, action, result. 

It's a thing of logic. It's a thing of beauty. It's fucking [i]passe[/i]. Beauty has simple rules. Smooth, symmetric, simple. Geometric shapes floating in space, everything the same colour, everything so predictable your brain goes numb. The Endless Azure Skies is a project of mathematics. You can make the universe fit into mathematics, if you'd like. Sometimes if you're quick you can even do music purely through mathematics. 

It's a different kind of music to the kind you make when you do three lines of coke off a broken bathroom mirror and step out onto stage and just kind of fucking feel it, you feel me?

There's no [i]plan [/i]here, and the fact that you even asked that shows just how deep the Skies has it's claws in you. There's just vibes. Sometimes you'll be so overcome with love that you can tell a perfect stranger that they're your best friend, and that's true, and sometimes you'll be so blinded with rage that you'll punch a perfect stranger in the mouth over a peanut and that's true too. Don't read into it, who gives a shit? If you even start doing that the vibes will have moved on and you'll be doing archaeology on one specific musical note. That's no way to live, get the fuck out of here, what do you think living [i]is[/i]?

Doesn't even need to be dramatic as all that either. Imagine getting up in the morning and having no idea what the fuck you're going to do today. When was the last time that happened to you? Don't answer that, if it's not today then you're still not noticing what's happening around you right fucking now.

[b]Dolce![/b]

"Surely that doesn't apply here," said the Architect absently. "We are the same entity, after all!"
"Then re-establish the connection!" shouted the Emissary.
"No." said the Architect. "Aha, no, yes, good point, Mr. Dolce, I see what you're saying now."

The drones descended on the metal, ripping and tearing. At the end they have produced a crude bed, a single chair, and a twist of metal to produce a roof. Nearby was a large circle on the ground with an X through the centre.

"Well, this seems like a solution everyone can be happy with!" said the Architect brightly. "You can live here under the laws of hospitality in this cute little house I have built, with all the food and fire you desire. Live here for ten years. A hundred years! And whenever you get bored of it, just step into this handy little circle and I'll delete you and repurpose your chassis for something useful." And then, in a reproachful tone of voice, "You know, the loss of specialized materials in your construction represents a 14 hour delay on the Schedule. Just so you're aware of what your extended existence is costing us."

The Architect's eye spun back to Dolce, leaving behind a catatonic Emissary. "There! The Gods are satisfied, don't you think?"