IC Contact: Reverie Terminal

[lostsymmetry]

network id: Hank_127

[Prodding a suspiciously blue-glowing terminal? Or maybe this actually is a network call. Either way, the reply is identical.]

<Greetings. This is the automated system administrator. How can I assist you?>

[The script is flat, cheerful, and robotic. Also, wrong. Leave a message?]

Comments

[lostsymmetry]

...No idea. [It's regretful, but honest.] Here, or planetside, or somewhere else completely.

[Back where he came from, Hank nearly says. Considering how they'd all come here, it seems like one of the more likely options. But he doesn't know if that would be a reassurance, and he's not going to say anything that might crush that fragile hope right now.]

But he's alive.

[thefaulty]

[Arid says nothing for a few moments, giving the data time to process and her sub-objectives to realign. The panicked tumult of the viral attack gradually fades and chaos falls back to order. Her rule reasserts itself with the reassuring certainty of a lock snapping shut.]

Finding where One and the others have been taken must be my priority in exploration moving forward. [Her voice is calm and resolute now, focused by the presence of a new goal. If One is indeed on the station, then the logical next step must be to concentrate on accessing those areas that are still locked to them. If he is elsewhere, then the information gleaned from new areas might still shed light on his true location.] Will you keep me informed of similar disappearances you detect on the station?