Chapter 2: The product of Brannon-Brook

Monday, 6 May, 10:25am

"Was she really that hot, mate?" Ghazal pokes at Reyn as he stares up, admiring his mother's artistic rendering anew. 

Reyn turns his gaze down at Ghazal, his face emotionless and his eyes piercing with intensity. "Way hotter." He earnestly responds without blinking. Ghazal sticks out his tongue as he giggles at, what he considered, Reyn's perfect retort. 

A couple of recruits whisperingly discuss Reyn's maternal connections while ogling him and pointing up at the painting. He tries to ignore them, but their words and insinuations beat like mallets at his heart, galvanizing his fears of unworthiness and failure to uphold his mother's legacy and dream. Until, a soft, warm hand finds the inside of Reyn's arm, which he greets confidently, although mentally he had shrieked and seriously considered numerous reasons for who or why he might be getting touched by what seemed to be a delicate, feminine hand.

He looks down and finds himself now being led along by a bubbling brunette firmly affixed to his right arm. She looks up at him with her bounteous, gold-brown eyes that seem eager to reach inside his skull and rob him of his self-control and modesty while also swelling with overwhelming kindness and empathy. The cherub-like face that houses them smiles at him with their peach-pink lips, a short, taught nose lauds above them, itself flanked by 2 rosey-freckled perky, round cheeks.

"C'mon Mitchells. Ignore them. Don't let them freak you out too. I know you're already digging trenches in that head of yours for all the shit you're gonna think up in there. Nut up soldier!" She says as she slaps him on his chest, which Reyn notices has happened twice since his arrival at GAARD. Uncanny, but not enough to elicit too much consideration, and hopefully not a recurring theme of his new life, he thought.

The charmingly unrefined encouragement had emanated from the mouth of 20 year old Canadian, Jocelyn Webber. Standing almost a head shorter than Reyn, but about 3-times as tall in confidence and social stature. Jocelyn had long held his fancy, but years of long and carefully curated calculations, mental dissertations and complex possibility mapping by Reyn has concluded unequivocally, in his mind at least, that Jocelyn was perilously out of his league, and henceforth, he would be wasting his efforts and both their time should he somehow muster the confidence to launch a campaign of romantic conquest on her heart.

"C'mon Reyn, let's stand upfront. Looks like she wants to lecture about something again." she says as she tugs him along. She freely rented Reyn's attention as she pleased, despite the pauper-like state of his general social fortune. Perhaps it was her unwavering kindness, or a maternal need to heal and protect or, just an excuse to rub elbows with the son of a legend. Reyn pondered every possibility, but her interactions are one of the few things in life he has decided was beyond his understanding and he would be better off not forcing one, the revelations of which may unravel his very mind.

They shift close to McCain, and as Jocelyn predicted, the senior agent spews forth more of the deep, twisting histories and stories of the agency. This time, she points the group's attention to a semimetal harness suspended and articulated into a striking position in a pool of ominously glowing light-blue liquid. All housed in an elaborately decorated glass cylinder sporting a cute retro-future motif.

"And we have here, an example of the first iteration of the Aether-Resonance Cognition Harness. The Aether Purge System. Created almost 30 years ago at the CARD facility at NASA. Spearheaded by the brilliant Dr. Yaroslav Ravinok..." As McCain prattled on, Jocelyn nudges Reyn softly in the ribs. He looks down as she flicks her eyes across his chest. She directs his vision to a soft light corridor leading off to the left of the building entrance. Hidden in deliberately ominous shadows stood a row of monstrous effigies. Jocely retracts her neck and furrows her brow at the sight, while Ghazal greets it with an aggressively extended tongue and two raised middle fingers, making sure McCain doesn't notice his act of offence first.

Reyn could barely discern the figures as he squinted but a few physical features make them unmistakeable. The details of each creature were sculpted to perfect likenesses, presenting an almost eerie liveliness to them. Probably wax, he thought, although with GAARD's budget they could easily afford it done in marble. The creatures each featured from one of the invasion gate battles, each an extraterrestrial intruder, yet forged in humanity's own nightmares and dreams. Reyn glimpses the ridiculously long forehead-horns of the warhammer-wielding minotaur that were part of the 3rd gate invasion. The electro-spider that ravaged Johannesburg during the 5th gate. The wings of the infamous thunder dragon stood out as well, but Reyn twists his mouth and hardens his jaw at the sight of the tentacles that destroyed Sao Paulo.

"Right! That's it for the tour." McCain's words break Reyn's leer across the lobby and he focuses his attention back at her. "Let's do this, shall we. We shouldn't keep Doctor Ravinok waiting." 

She leads the group deeper into the entrance hall where they are met by a pair of large, shining metal doors. McCain slips her hand across a semi-hidden panel along the doors outer edge, summoning from within the wall a small, digital screen. A soft, almost sensual feminine voice begins as a trilling whisper. "Welcome, Agent McCain." With her words the elevator doors shoot open with a distinct and concise shuck, startling some of the group. McCain motions the graduates inside with an elegant twist of her arm and they quickly file in, aligning themselves in mostly-neat, ordered columns.

McCain chuckles at the sight. "Cute! Most of the conscripted recruits we get in here come off the street, out of corporate, factories and whatnot. Maybe some military and combat experience if we're really lucky. Last week the best we got was a 40 year-old dentist. This is refreshing." The recruits all savor the agent's praise which ignites a chitter amongst themselves that is quickly interrupted again by McCain. "We've been averaging 2, maybe 3 new recruits a week since the last invasion. Seeing all 16 of you here today, highly trained and educated, each of you fully capable and full of potential. It's like goddamn Christmas!" The agent continues, her words seeming to happily stroke some egos around the elevator. "That being said, our expectations for you are not just high. They are absolute. You will each be expected to represent your species on the frontline of war during the next invasion. Humanity's future may soon lie in your hands, graduates. Make no mistake, we will make sure you are ready to defend this planet within 6 months. Whatever it takes." The agent smirks as the elevator fills with apprehensions. The graduates' self-confidence is slightly shaken by the weight of her words, and the expectations they set. 

But they were used to it in many ways after being forcefully conscripted and interned for 3 years at an elite military-style school specifically engineered to maximise the aetheric potential of humans with high affinity. Molded by constant reminders that their lives belonged to the Invasion Gate Suppression Initiative. Their commitment, sacrifice and death were all tactical requirements to the planet's survival. Illusions of choice and free will long since buried in the trenches and training grounds of Brannon-Brook and replaced by a burning desire for servitude and loyalty. They were ready, eager and waiting to be forged as GAARD's weapons of war.

"B11, GAIA."

"Affirmative." The digital voice replied as it faded into the elevator with an ethereal hum. 

"GAIA, has the Prism been prepared for today's evaluations? I assume Dr. Ravinok is ready for our guests?"

"Affirmative." The voice responds almost instantly. "Dr. Ravinok has been overseeing all preparations for today's evaluations. I believe he is currently warming up the Prism." 

"Ha, warming up the Prism. You're starting to sound like him. Good to hear that he's doing his job for once." McCain smirks while glancing across the group of graduates spread around the elevator. "Something must have gotten him excited today. GAIA, tell our guests a little about the A.R.A.C."

"Affirmative." The digital voice comes again. "The Aetheric Resonance Assessment Complex. The ARAC is situated on floors B10 through B14 of the GAARD HQ main administration building. Commonly known as The Crucible."

The graduates' ears perk up, each turning to listen in a different direction, trying to find the source of the omnipresent voice, "She's everywhere." The agent reassures, sensing the graduates unease. "She'll be in your head soon enough. You'll get used to it. Just relax and listen for now."

The voice belongs to the organization's General Artificial Intelligence Agent, GAIA. The backbone of GAARDs monumental data processing capabilities and an integral part of the organization's general management and logistics. She has undeniably become the most important part of GAARD's military and scientific endeavors. It started off as a central data processing system at US-CARD, its main purpose to help its creators make sense of the immense data processing required during aetheric research. As humanity's understanding of aether improved, so did its data processing needs and as they moved to aetheric experimentation and manipulation, those needs grew exponentially. GAIA's main processing units now lie at the heart of GAARD HQ, integrated across its entire physical and digital infrastructure. All powered by a fusion reactor housed in the facility's lowest levels. Almost every aspect of GAARD's aethericallu-powered capabilities are dependent on the data processing powers the A.I. provides.

"The ARAC is where GAARD assesses, augments and studies ARCH usage."GAIA continues as the graduates listen on, fascinated. "Composed of 4 sections, it forms part of a step-by-step program for assessment, integration and testing." GAIA buzzes as it continues its explanation. "This ensures optimal resonance potential and data processing between the user and ARCH-unit. Step 1. Assessment. Step 2. Augmentation. Step 3. Synchronization. Step 4. Testing. Would you like to know more about each step of the process?"

"That's enough GAIA. They'll have time to ask you more questions later. We're here."

The doors shank open to a deep unsettling darkness that seems to ooze into the elevator like a thick foreboding fog. "Pretty cool, right. Lab nerds call it a Spectral Occlusion Field. Most of us here just call it black-light." McCain says as she slips into the darkness, disappearing as if sucked into a pool of oil, her voice seeming to fade away as she does.

Whispers of confusion abound in the elevator and one scared, but curious graduate questions. "Uh… how are we supposed to?" A half question, but the connotation is obvious to all. 

"Relax, I'll be right there." The agent responds and soon after reappears inside the elevator, slipping in with a large box straddling her arms. "Here, put these on." 

The graduates approach and find the box filled with strange, transparent eyewear, they quickly pass them along to all occupants of the elevator.

"Like I said, the black-light is a security measure. GAIA can explain the details if you're interested, but basically it cancels out visible light in the area, bathing the area in complete darkness. Great for hiding secrets from wandering eyes. It protects us against unrestricted visual access to sensitive areas within the facility."

The graduates start slipping the eyewear onto their faces and mummers of astonishment soon follow. They play around with the new stimulation to their visual senses, flicking the glasses on and off and watching the darkness appear and disappear as they do. Reyn and Ghazal share the moment in silent awe while also screaming obscene words of astonishment and praise over the eyewear via their shared hidden language of facial expressions.

"Ready? Let's move. This way, graduates." McCain struts and the graduates quickly follow after. They leave the elevator adorned with their new high-tech fashion wear and begin to march in near-tandem behind the senior agent. On the entrance of floor B11 they are met with a long brightly lit hallway, at its far end, opaque glass doors await them. Reyn strains his vision toward the words printed on the walls lining the new entryway at the far-end of the corridor. 

"Aetheric Resonance Potential Assessment Chamber." He reads, causing his heart to skip a beat and his mind to switch into higher gear, ready to start racing with new possibilities that will feed his anxieties and fears of failure. The group moves between black-light lit rooms. They're eyes straining to find anything inside, but the darkness that stares back seems to leap out at them. Reyn tries desperately to harden his resolve and conviction but the ever-appearing voids seem to drag his mind to dark thoughts. A firm slap on his back brings with it a snap of clarity and he finds Ghazal standing behind him with a face carved in confidence and clear expectations. 

"This is it, plug. Are you ready?" Ghazal asks with a knowing smirk and Reyn replies with a smirk of his own. His friends' touch, smile and words all come as a virus to his psyche. Infected through Ghazal's brotherly support, he finds his own mind calm, sharing feelings of confidence and surety with that of his friend's.

"Reject the Impossible!" Reyn snarls, extending his fist at Ghazal. 

"Victory or Death!" Ghazal replies as their fists touch.

"Shut up you two! We're almost there." McCain barks, prematurely ending the moment of bromance. The men snicker and sink back in line with the rest of the group. 

Reyn's bout of melancholy had distracted him from the noticing of new features that have appeared in the hallway. Odd wires and pipes seem to pop in and out of existence from the ceilings and lab-like equipment line the walls sporadically with the occasional clipboard-clad sciency-types patrolling the area. They reach the large glass doors and end their march. 

McCain straightens her appearance before addressing the graduates. "Just wait here, the doctor will join us shortly."

As they wait they stare impatiently into the room ahead of them, squinting eyes and twisting necks to try and distinguish who or what was waiting inside. Reyn crooks his knees an inch to lower his gaze enough as he peeks into a small, clear parting in the opaque glass. Inside, he can barely see what seems to be a power plant's worth of equipment, machines and computers neatly placed and ordered all around the room. White-coated scientists and their blue-suited assistants move about the place purposefully, preparing and finalizing various equipment for the day's historical assessments. They dodge and dance around a litany of wires that snake around the multi-leveled floor and at the rooms center, as if it's crowning jewel, a magnificent and contrived contraction seems to rise from the floor, connected to the various equipment and machines that line the room, like a technological monolith. His eyes found The Prism.

Reyn's mind drew on this obelisk of inspiration, beginning to write for him new fantasies of failure. "Four in. Four out." He quickly reminds himself and starts to find his focus again, but the appearance of a large, portly man from behind the Prism almost startles him. The fellow peers out at the graduates behind the glass doors, his face covered in contemplation, then confusion and then joy. He slaps his belly as his face breaks into a roaring laugh.

Most of the graduates have found a visual pathway into the lab by now and watch in gross fascination as the man suddenly explodes into a pixelated powder which swirls into a quivering puddle and quickly dissolves into the floor. A tickle in their senses turns all eyes to the floor next to Agent McCain's feet as another swirl of matter begins to sprout from the ceramic tiles, building itself quickly into the stout shape of the man that glanced at them from the Prism just a moment ago.

"Hoho! So this is the product of Brannon-Brook, ha?" He yells in an audaciously Russian accent as little molecules of matter still work to form the missing parts of his body. The graduates stare at the spectacle in open-mouth awe. "Ha, pretty cool, yes. Matter manipulation and a touch of biokinesis. Pretty helpful for my bad knees, you know." He says as he reaches down in a semi-attempt to touch his legs, but his rotund frame would never allow such interactions. "I've been waiting, graduates. This is a big day! A momentous day! Many years in the making, ha. Now we finally see the results of the Brannon-Brock initiative. We see what the future of humanity holds."

"Yes, Thank you Doctor, I take it you'll handle things from here?" McCain says, softly wagging her head at the doctor's penchant for extravagant introductions and lofty words. 

"Yes, of course my love. Go, leave the offerings to me. The Crucible, she grows hungry." He laughs again letting his rolls of neck fat quiver with joy. "Today she will feed well, very well, indeed!"

"Right."McCain sighs. "I'll be leaving you in the very capable hands of Dr. Ravinok here. He'll guide you through the assessment. Good luck, graduates. We'll all be watching you very closely." McCain finishes and swiftly takes her leave, making her way back to the elevator with a purposeful trot.

"Come Brannon-Brook, we have little time and many of you. 16 in fact. This will be a first for all of us, ha. Now, come!" The doctor orders the group along before swirling away into a dissolving puddle, quickly appearing again beside the Prism, beckoning the graduates inside. The group swiftly shuffle into the room, and are immediately assaulted by a blaring of beeps and hums as little lights and colourful screens flash in tune with the electrical noises pervading the area. Overlooking it all was a soundproof audience chamber, jutting out of a second-floor wall of the room, already occupied by some of the most important figures in the I.G.S.I and GAARD.

Ravinok presses against the Prism, his body rubbing up it almost vulgarly as he gestures for the group to approach. "Come, come. You insult her beauty. Come, closer!" The graduates shuffle closer with apprehension, though some lean forward in quiet astonishment. "Beautiful, yes? 20 years in the making, and now look. Perfection!"

Before them stood a transparent cylindrical chamber, if simply put. But the contraption looks more like an alien birthing tube made of glass and metal, adorned with all manner of pipes, wires and sensors, trilling in otherworldly languages. Another modern marvel of science and engineering, Reyn winced as his mind envisioned a million different ways how the erie machine would unsheath his flesh from his bones.

"This is the Aether Resonance Assessment Chamber, or as we like to call her, the Prism. The science and manufacturing involved is very complicated, but the process, very simple. I will explain it briefly, so listen, now." Ravinok lazily limps over to a console nearby and starts tapping away at its keyboard. The Prism suddenly lights up with a whirr of machinery and buzzing electricity starting the group into astonishment. 

"See the glass that surrounds her, this a very special crystalline-quartz matrix infused with aetherite. Helps keep the aether inside, while we can look in." he taps a few more buttons and the machine starts to rumble as a helmet-like apparatus descends from its ceiling. "Highly-modified APS. Aether Purge System, you should know this. We attach this to your head. Keeps you… safe." Ravinok says, a smirk crossing his face as he returns to join the graduates. "After this, we pump the chamber full of pure aether, and, how you say, uh, watch the fireworks!" He finishes with another hearty chuckle and slaps the side of the Prism. 

"So, who will be first, ha?"