7 ♦ Hahn

16 6 2




Nano Recording System

Your Screen is facing me, Lord of Suns, from an upper left angle. And it'll always be that way when you're in my hands. I have a nano recording system that follows me around everywhere; it's part of my job.

I'll also be using Watson directly, so he no longer needs to decompress data from Siren, or swim through the sloppy disaster of Daffodilna's humanly imperfect code.

I've also turned off Watson's narrative. I prefer my digital ride to feel smooth.


Double Door, Triple Wide

I'm surprised to see Daffodilna walking up the street. She's headed for the pearly double-doors that lead to the main hall of the First School, where Sun Mages live on the left, and classes are held on the right. Which means she's headed for me.

My office is at the end of the main hall: a triple-wide chamber with floor-to-ceiling, one-sided windows, so I can observe the happenings outside without jeopardizing my privacy. I used to watch students talking together all the time—tenfold more than I do now—but this used to be a position of social responsibility, rather than the hermit lifestyle I've carved for myself, locking myself up like a techno-caveman for days of no sun, lots of experimentation, and writing.


City of Anahelm,
E'Ruin Crusts

Speaking of, it's interesting writing this quantascript; I wouldn't think about Earth, if Lab Eleven hadn't reminded me. But then I grew up on the Crusts, in the City of Anahelm, so of course I wouldn't think about Earth. We were too busy just surviving off the spoils of the land.

I'm in the middle of holding prisms to the winking sunlight of a porthole, a tiny round window installed near the ceiling just a few months ago to help me analyze rainbows at the height of the day.

Since I teach night classes, this is my chance to play before work. And I like playing before work; I'm a dessert before dinner kind of guy.

So distracted I feel by this research, when Daffodil raps her knuckle on my door—three hard raps, followed by three rapid and quiet successions; that's her knocking style—I tell her "come in" without thinking much of it, the way you say "hi how ya doin'" to people without any interest in talking to them, or "excuse me" when you bump into someone, even if the remorse isn't there.

We're as programmed as our artificial intelligences; the only gift we have anymore is imagination, ever since we dumped our social skills into the hands of computers.


Color & Light Experiments

I've got this prism at almost the perfect angle on the hologram screen, so I can analyze the gaps between different shades of color, when Daffodilna comes in and looms in my peripheral vision, the twinkling lights of her headhunter bodysuit cascading neon colors into my office darkness.

The prism's hologram screen picks up ultraviolet, diluting it to a tone my naked eye can see. And based on the thickness of that shaded bar—

Daffodilna clears her throat. "Good day, Lord Hahn."

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