Member
op2024
Noctis
Silent Showers
Kaithe Dame
Cleveraptor
Tortoise
Tally Dor
Guardian Angel Haruki
LadyAmber
TokyoPewPewLunch in the People’s Engine
Vasir gets to enjoy Qinglongren hospitality.
Featuring ‘Captain’ Vasir, Cog-Ace Guan Liang, and Cog-Envoy Xue Bao
Xue Bao had been awoken in the middle of her own artificial night by the sudden, sharp jolt of a maximum-priority notification. Still bleary-eyed, she barely had the chance to swing her legs out of her bed before the information poured in.
[Immediate Attention Required: Cog-Envoy Xue Bao]
That was the thumbprint of the Voice’s Biological Management NCM, which meant…
[Status Report Since Cycle End: Luna Away Team Update]
Her mind shifted gears easily. Work called. When she’d headed to sleep the Veined Jay had yet to depart… But what a difference a few hours could make. She processed as she moved - a ping to turn the lights on, a stop in her washroom to get the sleep off of her face. A brief pause to take her medicine, and then the longest of her rising processes - getting dressed.
By the time she had finally gotten out of the door and made it across to the carrier bay of the Voice of the People it was already a hive of activity. Medical staff stood on standby beside wheeled stretchers and honour guard of marines, all assembled in parade stance. Off to one side, awaiting the arrival of the Veined Jay, she would naturally fit herself into a small collection of other cog-envoys that had assembled. She chewed her cheek without thinking, eyes flitting over the empty berth of the Blue Peacock - gone to recover the marines, apparently.
Vasir’s head felt light as vacuum cold had given way to the warmth of bodies, but he couldn’t help a thin, uneven smile from stretching across his face even as he stumbled slightly. With the click of a latch on his neck he removed the clinging, icy plastic of the mask to finally let ‘fresh’ air onto his skin. Blinking away the weariness that settled into his bones, he sat down on an empty seat and watched nervously as they got people on to stretchers and away from the room.
For a moment, his day got a little brighter – he winced slightly as the marine carrying the ship’s neatly bisected hobot set them heavily onto the floor nearby. The hobot beeped at him, giving a soft whirring sound as they waved their right arm excitedly for him to walk over and join them on the ground, which he did dutifully.
“Gesundheit, you made it!” he gasped, breathing an unexpected sigh of relief as the gestalt cyborg retracted the shielding on their domed ‘head’ to reveal a terrarium-like structure filled with soil and an interwoven series of roots, veins, nerves, dark green leaves, and mycelial strands all connected and suspended in some kind of thick green fluid, almost algae-like in its colour and consistency. The marine, who had turned to see if they needed any more help, paused for a moment to stare at the sight.
“Oh,” Varis turned to give the marine a grateful smile, “thank you for bringing Gesundheit with you, they’ve helped keep us all that little bit saner in space for the past few months. The others will be happy to see them when they wake up.”
“Gesundheit?” The marine copy-catted. “What does it mean? That’s not…” They stopped for a moment, searching for the words. “That’s not the language you’re speaking?”
“Oh, uh, heh,” he paused, thinking for a moment, “no, it’s from an old Earth language not many people on Avalon still speak, but… it means ‘Bless You’, like, giving someone a kindness. Silly thing is you’re meant to say it after someone sneezes, not quite sure why. Maybe the guy who built Gesundheit was allergic to them?”
“Oh!” Warmth crept into the marine’s voice. “Baisui.” A nod of understanding. “My implant suggests it’s German originally.” The figure turned towards Gesundheit and offered a nod. “I’m glad to have been able to assist. You are a fascinating intelligence.”
Gesundheit’s torso shifted slightly, and it was apparent that they had a series of small, semi-rotational cameras built around the base of the dome. They wiggled slightly at the marine, before the hobot gave a large thumbs up and a warm, affirmative ‘boop’.
Vasir couldn’t help but feel a little crass about being so relieved to see their loading bay’s hobot still alive, albeit damaged, when he knew that they had already lost some twenty-eight human souls and might lose yet more, but… he couldn’t really help but smile about it all the same. It was not an ‘either/or’ situation, and Gesundheit was as much part of the crew as anyone else.
For a moment he just sat there, before at last letting his mind return to focusing on the ‘now’ – it was not quite yet the time to rest, as much as he would like to. His eyes narrowed, scanning the room for Liang and anyone else in a position of authority – it soon occurred to him a common pattern, of bands around the wrists of people that seemed to indicate their roles. Those who were supporting the injured wore red bands, while the marines were obvious in their rank insignia.
He was approached by someone very different. Compared to the acting-captain she was pristine, her appearance put together as if it were perfectly designed for meeting new people. Stopping before Vasir, she offered him a prompt and respectful bow, then a light tilt of her head. He awkwardly got to his feet, brushing down the very ragged halfway mixture of a uniform and an emergency safesuit that clung to him, the hasty medical patching on the cut across his forehead remaining in place through what felt like sheer force of will before offering an overly deep bow in response – though it was clear from his posture that it was not a motion he was used to.
“Greetings and welcome aboard the IPC Voice of the People, on behalf of myself, Cog-Envoy Xue Bao, and the whole of the Qinglong Accord. I appreciate that this must be a difficult time, so I hope that we can help you as much as possible. We have been in contact with a ‘Captain Aurida’ of the Pillars of Avalon, who was scheduled to meet you?” She spoke with practiced precision - almost like the greeter to a gala.
Vasir couldn’t help but frown at the question, his mind racing.
“Um, yes, we… I believe the last update we had was that Captain Aurida would be in charge of the main envoy fleet and escorts. Though, well… he won’t necessarily be expecting to talk to me. He’s unlikely to even know who I am, I…”
He whistled slightly, deeply inhaling through clenched teeth.
“I am… or was, I suppose, the ‘acting’ captain of the Rite of Passage, only because every other crew member with basic coordinator training is either dead or unconscious. My job up until all of this was, uh…”
He unzipped part of the emergency suit to reveal the stained green uniform jacket underneath it, where a small rectangular badge read simply:
‘Vasir Smith, Gestalt Coordinator’.
Bao’s form subtly shifted as Vasir started to talk, the prim and proper diplomat beginning to fade a little as she settled in to listen. Before she could continue, a familiar figure approached the pair, now having doffed their softsuit to reveal a simple light blue jumpsuit, gloves dangling from their sleeves. The figure’s Avalonian English was the most informal of any Qinglongren to speak so far. “Let the man breathe, Cog-Envoy.” A warmth had spread across Liang’s crow-lined face. “The formal diplomats will be arriving soon, no need to start pressing the man.”
There was a moment of stiffness from the diplomat, and Bao chewed her cheek again. On the one hand, Liang was right - Vasir was a normal cog thrown into an awful situation, but she was here to represent the Accord. Her mind ticked over a few more times as Liang retrieved the handle of their cane, giving it a sharp jolt to send the main body out.
“You are quite correct Cog-Ace. Acting Captain… Would you prefer I just call you Vasir? Before your countrypeople arrive, why don’t we get you something to eat? Do you have any allergies or dietary preferences?”
“Oh,” Vasir sighed, suddenly feeling a bit lighter than before, “Uh, yes. Vasir is fine, sir. And no, I… I would love something to eat, thank you. No restrictions.”
“Wonderful. Please, come with me.” She swept an arm out, towards the halls of the vessel that lay past the cramped shuttle bay. “Will you be joining us Cog-Ace?”
Liang offered an easy smile. “Certainly. They’ll want me in for an AAR on the whole affair no doubt, but I’m sure the Machine will recognise the reality of the situation.” They began to move slowly but steadily forward, cane clicking against the floor with each step they took, making sure to match Vasir’s cautious steps.
“Well,” Bao might have been thrown for a moment, but it seemed like she was back in her element now. A genuine, if diplomatic smile settled across her face as she took the lead. “Well, let me give you a ‘run down’ then Vasir. We’ll be heading to the main Civic Engine aboard the Voice of the People, an innovation we’re very proud of here in the Qinglong Accord. These Engines, colloquially known as ‘zongxin’ form the nexus of communities across Qinglong System. They act as administrative centers, community spaces, factory-kitchens and more, ensuring every cog has universal access to everything required for life, happiness and dignity.”
The bulkhead door swung open with nothing more than the smooth hum of servos at work, revealing… A very normal, very dull looking corridor, the same as any other well-made spaceship. Hex-shaped panels made up the majority of each surface, although the floor had been painted a much darker colour, while straps and handholds were seamlessly integrated for low-gravity movement. Evenly spaced panels, in bright, unmissable yellow-and-black stripes held bright red buttons, while the lighting was bright, sterile, but not painful, even for Vasir’s concussed mind.
“We’ll be heading to this last one now. While our soldiers and essential ship crew have their own galleys, most of the crew rely on the factory-kitchen for-”
“Our three hots,” Liang commented sardonically.
“Exactly, yes.” Bao nodded enthusiastically despite the interruption.
Vasir quietly nodded along as they spoke, his eyes wide with curiosity. In some ways it was all very familiar, though it felt slightly ‘colder’ than he was used to – greenery seemed to be a lot sparser and mostly decorative where it did appear.
We should eat something, son. We missed lunch, whispered a fallen voice, and he could suddenly feel a dryness in his mouth and an aching in his chest. He gave his hosts a smile and inhaled deeply through his nose, gently patting his stomach.
“Smells great, three hot meals huh? I could kill for a pie right now.”
“Pie?” Bao blinked once or twice, clearly unfamiliar with what Vasir was saying. “Well, I’m afraid we might not have exactly what you’re looking for, but hopefully we can give you a proper taste of Qinglong. If I may ask, we’re speaking mmm… ‘English,’ yes? Is this common for Avalon?”
“Oh!” he tried to hide the mixture of disappointment and bemusement creeping at the edges of his voice, focusing on the question, “yeah, uh…”
He looked down briefly, hand to his chin, trying to recall his history classes.
“So, the majority of the initial settlers on Avalon were from… North America, the British Isles, Australia, and parts of India and South Africa, that kind of thing. English was the main consistent language so it’s the official one, but there’s a lot of smaller ones that people prefer. I also speak Portuguese, for example, from my great-grandma teaching me.”
“Fascinating!” Bao folded her hands together, just slow enough so that it wasn’t a clap, but still clearly animated. “The Qinglong Accord was originally settled by a Sinicised majority. I think I’m… I still have an accent, yes? I don’t have the same level of direct translation that our soldiers and veterans do, so you’re hearing my Qinglong Dialect Mandarin come through.”
The conversation slowly wound down as the pair approached a wide-open set of doors, a few other Qinglongren quietly making their way in and out. The air began to fill with scents slowly wafting out - herbs and spices, the stomach-rumbling scent of cooking, and sounds that had united human beings over a simple need for thousands of years - something sizzling in a pan.
“Please, don’t let the rest of the crew disturb you.” Bao offered another reassuring smile. “We’re all professionals here.”
Vasir nodded along increasingly absentmindedly, offering a polite nod and a growing smile as they passed by some of the rest of the crew, his mind more and more just occupied with whatever it was that smelled quite so good. Ginger, definitely, and soy sauce.
She hadn’t bitten a nail in three years, and she wasn’t about to start now, on the eve of formal first contact with their siblings across the stars. Instead, she relegated herself to adjusting one of the jade rings on her left hand, a gift from her great-uncle, twisting it around over and over, the familiarity a comfort.
Be careful Mab, you’ll hurt us, said the purple creature that filled the doors beside the docking port.
I know, Archie, Mabelo thought back, pausing long enough to try and focus on what exactly she could control in this absolute mess of a situation.
You did good, Archie rumbled, Aurida would have made things even worse.
She nodded to herself and sighed. She knew it was true, but of course all of this had to go wrong so soon. It was still unclear as to what exactly happened to the Rite of Passage and the Tranquil Watcher, and how many exactly had survived, but the worry extended far beyond the inevitable paperwork or immediate fear of danger.
“You’ll give yourself a rash,” said the captain sat to her right, his uniform pressed and extra buttoned for the occasion, as he read a small book with a plain grey cover. Mabelo’s eyes narrowed as she turned slightly to make eye contact, but he continued to read.
“You’re not nervous at all about meeting them? After almost starting a war?”
Aurida simply continued reading as he spoke, “Scans and deductions by the Hunter’s gestalt indicate their ship is unarmed. Violence is always a last resort, you know that.”
“It felt an awful lot like your posturing was about to make it the first.”
“Well,” his lips curled slightly, the tiniest echo of both a smirk and a sneer crossing the left side of his face before just as quickly settling back into that firm, polite smile, “we can’t rely on laws and civilian pleasantness out here, representative – and statistically, at least one of the gates must hide hostile nations.”
“Captain,” spoke up one of the sub-vessel’s pilots, “we will be docking within the next few hours.”
Aurida gently turned the page.
“But don’t fear. I won’t push it further, at least while we’re dealing with our new friends, okay?”
The whole system of the ‘Civil Engine’ was exactly as civilised as everything about the Voice of the People suggested it would be - a large hex-panelled room filled with neat, sleek tables and benches, each seating area equipped with what appeared to be seatbelts - more microgravity adaptations, no doubt. A working kitchen was divided from the eating area through a series of small lockers. A canteen then, no different to the ones that had survived on Avalon… Although not entirely mechanical, it seems.
It was the little things - one of the walls was seemingly entirely blank to Vasir, but several of the crew had stopped before it, quietly talking among themselves. Several encased blocks held bushy green stalks - a pop of colour amidst the bureaucracy, while a large screen set against the furthest wall was unmistakably a newsfeed, with scrolling feeds, an anchor and subtitles.
Liang led the scene, taking a tray and sliding it along. At each block of lockers the veteran paused, opened one up, and then took a small block of food, each dish slotting neatly into a pressed section of the tray. Vasir watched all of this with an almost steely gaze and an eyebrow raised in bafflement from faint memories of childhood block puzzles, that he quickly refocused.
“Lunch today is....” Bao paused, eyes scanning the small lit up Mandarin displays above each bank of lockers. “Yangzhou fried rice with cultured pork and shrimp, xiaolongbao - please, no jokes about my name,” her smile briefly slipped into a more weary front for a moment- the sign of a person who had heard every single possible joke that could be made and thought none of them were very original, “Along with fragrant tofu.”
Vasir nodded at the descriptions, step by step following Liang and Bao’s example as he loaded up each item at a time. The last step of the process was the simplest of all - an untreated paper packet of tea leaves, and a simple hot water dispenser, the cup slotting in to the last empty part of the tray. He could feel the temptation to drool, his weariness and hunger briefly wrestling with basic manners, but took a calming breath and smile as he followed them to sit at one of the available tables. He paused, glancing between them as he wondered how odd it would be to pray in this space.
Keep it brief and quiet. No harm in that.
Fair, he thought, quickly closing his eyes and mumbling to himself,
‘Thank you, heights and home and host and hope, for life, and safety, and this food. Thank you.’
He smiled and nodded at Bao, then… realized there was no cutlery. He glanced around, as people were eating with chopsticks, like it was some kind of historical drama or local tourney.
“Is something the matter?” Bao had kept to herself while Vasir paused, while Liang had already started, chopsticks expertly spooning the rice up.
“Uh,” Vasir glanced at Liang, eyes narrowing as he lifted his own chopsticks and awkwardly tried to mimic the holding position, the stance he was holding them almost giving the impression a duck or shadow puppet, his fingers clearly struggling with the position, “no, um, I think I’m fine, thank you.”
The first attempted scoop lifted no rice.
The second spilled the few grains he’d collected into his other meal portions.
The third, by some miracle, precariously balanced a single grain that he just about managed to reach his mouth.
Bao looked genuinely embarrassed - but not, it seemed, at Vasir. “I am so very sorry, that never even occurred to me. Um… Please, one moment.” In one smooth motion she stood up from her bench, polished clacking across the metal floor as she approached the divider that split the kitchen off from the dining area.
Liang, for his part, simply offered a wry smile. “Welcome to the Accord. The Machine will make the finest diplomatic vessel in half a century, and forget that not everyone might use chopsticks.” A small chuckle. “I suppose it’s only natural though - the Voice has never left Qinglong before.” They offered an incline of the chopsticks, as if they were a fencer accepting a tag. “You still holding in there cog?”
Vasir met Liang’s smile and reached up to tap the chopsticks in turn, though it was clear from his posture that he was embarrassed about Bao having to go and make some kind of adjustment for him. He took a sip of his tea, a reassuring green – lips curling at the bitterness of it – to ease his hunger, when curiosity stuck at the forefront of his mind.
“...sorry, what did you call me?”
Meanwhile something at the back of his mind was itching, slightly, and he was suddenly struck by a memory of watching old war movies about the Fomorian Invasion.
“You mentioned ‘the Machine’, earlier. What’s, uh… is that like a computer? A factory…? Sorry to ask, some of this is all quite new to me.”
Liang blinked a few times, teacup halfway to their mouth. “And there I go, I suppose. Well, I’m sure Bao would love to give you the official line, and no doubt she will, but… Hmm.” They took a small sip, every movement efficient, even the swallowing. “I suppose the best way to describe it is that…” Another long pause as they considered their words. “Sorry, I’ve never had to explain this before. To us,” They gestured across to the room. “We are all cogs in the Accord - we may be human, Canxing Zholou, man, woman, neither,” they tapped their own chest. “But all of us are cogs, working together in the Accord’s great machine, all turning to help in our own ways.” They set the chopsticks down, then performed a gesture Vasir had never seen before - interlocking the fingers of each hand together, thumbs tucked behind their palms. The Executive Machine keeps the state working, it’s our ‘government,’ if you will, but ah.” A slight shake of their head. “We don’t like old Earth here. Qinglong Megaconglomerate left its scars deep.”
Vasir had been listening intently, tea in hand, and his brow furrowed as Liang spoke.
‘Qinglong’ was not a name familiar to him, though he supposed it would explain where their system got its name from, and he remembered enough of his political & social theory classes that ‘corporations’ were basically the devil in a nice suit.
“So cogs are… people…? All people? Even your leaders?”
Liang nodded. “That’s the long and short of it, yes. There are differences - That’s an Executive-Optimiser Cog,” They gestured across towards the newsfeed, where a smartly-dressed man was now speaking before a podium marked with a seal. “Bao,” he gestured across to the door, and almost as if on cue the diplomat emerged, clutching a stainless steel spoon. “Is a Cog-Envoy. I’m a Cog-Ace, although I’m retired from the military. Small ways of honouring those who have served.”
“Huh,” he said, though his attention was quickly taken by eagerly taking the offered spoon from Bao and giving her an overly deep bow that almost resulted in his face fully entering his dinner, “thank you, that’s so kind, uh… sorry to struggle with these,” he wiggled the chopsticks briefly before neatly returning them to the sheath and taking his seat.
“Once again, very sorry,” Bao returned Vasir’s bow - and when she rose, felt tension she hadn't expected leave her system. “Thank you, actually, for bringing this to our attention - we’ll have our printers get to work on some knives and forks as an interim measure.” With that, she settled back into place and took up her chopsticks, the conversation petering out for a moment as both cogs and citizens dug into their food.
Woah, lad, you’ll choke!
The saltiness of the broth, the pork and the richness of the dumplings, it was certainly the best meal he’d ever had purely on its own merits. Sure enough, at one point he had to stop himself from choking, and decided it’d be worth taking a breather before he finished up what was left of the dishes, the last couple of spoonfuls.
“Thank you,” he gasped, trying to resist the temptation to stretch himself out too much, “that was amazing.”
Bao bowed again, a little over-eagerly this time. “Thank you! I’m very glad it was to your liking, utensils aside.”
His attention was drawn briefly to the door, a feeble hope in his mind that the other survivors would be walking through and they would be able to eat something as well, but… his attention was drawn once again to the small crowd that was gathered around one of the wall panels. To his untrained eye it seemed quite ordinary, though there was definitely an ‘outline’ to it that told him there was something special about that specific panel.
Was the colour slightly different? It seemed as plainly clean as everything else.
“Sorry to ask, but… I’m curious, what are they looking at?”
“Wha- Oh!” Bao turned to glance at the wall as well. “It’s a Social Frame. Without an NIS it must just look plain to you, of course. Let’s call it a collaborative display. Members of the crew and cogs back in Qinglong can submit entries to be displayed on it- like art, and people in the room can see what they’d like on it while they eat. One moment.” She rolled one of her sleeves up almost casually, showing what appeared to be the world’s most over-engineered wristwatch. A brief flicker of concentration across her face, and then the device lit up, projecting a small hologram that flickered through different scenes, all clearly taken from the wall.
Eyes wide, Vasir watched the scenes play out. Each individual part of it made sense, he supposed, as did the idea of them being so interconnected, but some of the work being shown was truly fantastic.
“And these are all submissions from people? That’s… wow. Don’t get me wrong,” he shrugged, “we have a lot of plants on our ships and it helps keep everybody’s minds’ clear, but something like this would be a nice snapshot of home. Closest thing we have is more, well…” he gestured to the news report, “occasional video reports or photos, I suppose?”
“We’re getting information through in packet here in Sol,” Liang added. “Transmissions get assembled back in Qinglong, then sent through in bursts - the news feed there isn’t live, and neither are the submissions from home in the Frame.”
“Here, please, I’ll handle the crockery.” Bao smiled and began to slot all the trays and cups together, Liang slowly rising to their feet and picking the cane back up. Before they’d even left the room though, an extremely frazzled looking figure in medical scrubs and with that same red armband that Vasir had noted back in the shuttle bay practically burst into the room, eyes scanning over the crowd quickly until settling on the Avalonian.
They approached swiftly, Liang subtly shifting slightly in front of the man in case he was about to be fully accosted, only for the doctor to offer a half-bow.
“Apologies for the interruptions but it’s… Well. Are you fully human?!”
