Chapter 4 Part 4 Actors on set! All actors on set!

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The craft shudders. In the cockpit's view-screens the stars disappear, and a strange resonance begins pulsating in my head. I close my eyes, gently massaging them while I manage the disorientation.

In the darkness behind my eyes, I "see" several massive, wide band concentric rings surrounding something titanic. Some of the "bands" seem to completely encompass its orbit while others are mere "ribbons" in comparison. Dotted in the empty spaces are spheres, in various placements. And among them are even smaller things, tiny and indistinct.

We start moving, a tiny thing accelerating rapidly. "What am I seeing?" I think before I am interrupted.

"You are immune." West says, still talking about zombies. "You're at least an Olympian Splice. Your mitochondrial DNA matches the mods in the actress who portrays our Storm." Noticing that she had not stopped my distress, she adds. "There have been no outbreaks since we took possession of the planet twenty solar years ago."

"How long have you been here?" Carnifax asks changing the subject. "When were you Culled?"

I feel like I've been asserting this nearly constantly for the last few days. "I was culled around two-and a half months ago."

"The sooner he is on set, the sooner he can acclimate and reduce environmental stress." West says.

"I was on set less than a day after  arriving." Carnifax says.

"Same." Said one of the pilots.

"Exalt, I think you are expecting instant immersion." West says. "There are on set facilities you can visit to decompress before going back out. They are not absolute havens, but it helps us to acclimate. You'll see."

I take a deep breath. "What happens when we die?"

"Unless you have a power to resurrect youurself, or otherwise preserve yourself, Mr. 'elder god' telepath, you stay dead." West says. "Many faiths are represented on IC-GC1 you can worship as you wish."

That is not what I meant but, I leave it alone.  "Sorry for all the questions. It probably seems like I am not taking this well."

"You are fine." West says. "We would not have hired you otherwise. The only downside is that you can't go through one of our BSM's for fine tuning. If you want a power make over you have to do more than just participate in an event like the Megafauna Spectacular."

"Did you get what you wanted Carnifax?" I ask.

He gives me a hard look. "I thought I did." What he is thinking is. "How in the fuck is he reading my thoughts and how far can he read?"

I turn away from his mind and check the others. Outside of the pilots, Producer West, Carnifax, and myself, the rest of our party are androids, battle androids. Their thoughts are extremely organized and networked, communicating with each other.

When I touch the pilots' minds, I learn what I saw when the stars disappeared.

We are in interstitial space, and I am "seeing" the mass reflections of the bodies in this part of the solar system. No, not just "solar system," the inner layers of a Matrioshka shell... what some would call, a type of Dyson sphere; an entire star surrounded my multiple rings with the whole thing sealed off by a massive outer shell.  If the whole thing is covered, how are we seeing stars?

I snatch my awareness back inside my head, even managing to blank out the map of interstitial space that I do not recall even conceiving , much less asking for.

"You look disturbed." West is looking at me intently.

"We're in a Dyson Sphere." I say.

"It is more complex than that." She replies. "And the Audience is actually the population of a network of Matrioshka Shells. Do you know what that is?"

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