[Fiction] "When the wind no longer calls to you..."

[GDP_ST]

>>>>N! broadcast, dated 11 August, 2016.<<<<

>>>>Reported by Pradina Murewal, on location in Chicago.<<<<

Broadcast begins in:

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>>>Camera pans over a small crowd of excited and noisy people before panning upwards towards the shining peak of Fordham Spire. Above the calls of the crowd, a female voice speaks into the microphone.<<<

Murewal: We're LIVE here in Chicago, outside the prestigious Fordham building, home to one of the more notorious members of the Teragen. He has exhanged blows with Team Tomorrow AND, according to rumor, his fellow Terats. He has the distinction of being one of the Two Hundred, the novas who Erupted in 1998. He has been a Utopian, an Elite, and a Terat. He has advocated anarchy, promoted freedom of thought and action for nova and baseline alike, threatened a U.N. member country with natural disasters, saved and taken lives. >>>As the reporter continues to speak, the camera pans back to her, revealing a pretty and fashionably-dressed Indian woman with long dark hair and an air of scarcely-concealed nervous excitement.<<< Some worship him as a god, others revile him as a terrorist. And now, after avoiding the media eye for over five years, he has called upon N! for an interview. He is Procyon, the 'Sun King of the Teragen', and we are waiting here for him to descend from his eyrie to speak with us... Jake! There he is!

>>>The reporter's voice rises sharply as she glances upwards and points, a chorus of shouts and excited screams punctuating her words as the camera quickly pans up, zeroing in on a shining figure that falls earthwards at a terrifying rate, small flares of light appearing in the glowing aura as the man approaches the ground. About twenty metres from the sidewalk, the fall slows to a drifting descent, as Procyon lands gently a few metres away from the cameraman and reporter. The glowing nova is dressed simply, white cotton trousers and a white shirt open at the front revealing the bronzed and sculpted lines of his torso. Streaks of glowing golden energy form highlights on his face and form, emphasizing his too-perfect beauty as though he is dry-brushed in sunlight. He is at one time awesome and accessible, a godling descended to walk the earth. The aura of solar light around him fades slightly as he sets both bare feet on the ground, the sparkling lens-flares disappearing. He smiles and raises one hand in greeting to the crowd, drawing more screams, calls and prayers as he steps over to the obviously flustered N! reporter.<<<

Procyon: Hello, Pradina. Thank you for coming on such short notice, and thank you also to N! for agreeing to this. >>>His blue eyes glimmer with depthless patience and good humour as he speaks, his voice a pure and resonant baritone. His manner is easy and affable as he gently takes the young woman's hand and shakes it, then lets go. Pradina recovers quickly, her professionalism seizing on the moment and rising to the occasion.<<<

Murewal: Thank YOU, Procyon, for giving us at N! this rare opportunity to speak with you. You look, if I may be so bold as to say so, even more stunning than the last time you were in front of our cameras. >>>Procyon chuckles at this and smiles as Pradina continues, glancing from him to the camera and the watching viewers.<<< You mentioned on the phone that you had much to say to N! and the world. I have to tell you I'm curious as to what that could be, a curiousity that I share with our millions of viewers, I'm sure. >>>Procyon's face takes on a more serious expression at this, and he nods in assent to the unspoken request.<<<

Procyon: Firstly, Pradina, I would like to give a little background to what I am about to say. The reasons are as important as the revelations in this instance: indeed, they are one and the same in many ways. >>>He directs his attention to the reporter, though his words are clearly intended for everyone watching.<<< I have been quiet and inactive for a long time, since Bahrain in fact, mainly because I had reached a point of inner conflict that I found hard to resolve. I found myself sharing many views with my fellow Terats, but by no means all views. I was confused, and ostracised somewhat by other Terats as a result of my disagreement with some of their number. Lately, I have been thinking about my conflict and what it means. I have made friends, good ones, who ask me about my philosophies, and in so doing have helped me discover some truths about myself. And in opening myself to these people, I have rediscovered who I am. >>>He smiles softly, a flash of contentment, the peace with himself evident in his eyes.<<< And now I want to set some records straight, Pradina. The only way to fight ignorance is through knowledge, not through violence and suspicion. This is not a decision I take lightly: there will be some who will take exception to my views, others who will fear they represent and seek to destroy me for them. But in rediscovering myself, I know now what I have to do: even if it leads to my destruction, I would rather die on my feet, doing what I believe to be the best thing for all, than live on my knees. >>>This last is spoken with a simple shrug of the shoulders.<<<

Murewal: Go on, please...

Procyon: I am a Terat. This is well-known. It has become clear to me that people largely view the Teragen as a cult, or fanatical army of nova-supremacist genocidal maniacs. I am telling you now that it is not. Of course, other Terats have said the same thing, including the estimable Count Orzaiz. The Teragen is nothing less and nothing more than a collective noun for those novas who subscribe to the philosophy of Teras. The problem lies in the fact that Teras is intended to be a uniquely individualistic system of thought, and therefore the actions of one Terat cannot be used as a measure of the actions of others. Of course, Terats work together and socialise with one another, and in doing so form communities, and some of these communities develop into organisations. We all strive to transcend humanity, to develop to our utmost potential in physical, mental and quantum terms. That there are as many paths to this goal as there exist Terats is a fact that many not sharing our philosophy find difficult or impossible to grasp. >>>Procyon pauses, his expression grave.<<<

Procyon: Always before, I shared the party line that I was not responsible for the actions of other Terats, that it was not for me to judge them or interfere with their 'uniqueness of expression'. Last night, I spoke with a young nova who, very insightfully, pointed out to me that this viewpoint placed me in the same pigeonhole as those members of the Church of Michael Archangel who claim not to support the terrorist activities of their gun-wielding fellows, but do not actually condemn them. In short, the young nova in question brought to light that I was, and have been for awhile, a moral coward. In a flicker of enlightenment, I realised they were right. >>>Procyon grins a little and winks at the camera<<< And then the cause of my conflict became painfully obvious. >>>Procyon chuckles at this, shaking his head before continuing.<<<

Procyon: Morally, I can not associate myself with people who are genocidal bigots. Unfortunately, a growing portion of those who paint themselves Terats fall all too easily into that very category. Their social 'evolution' from loose fellowships of similar-thinking novas into elitist tribes with a siege mentality is, in my opinion, stunting and paralysing the greater cause propounded by Divis Mal: one of personal freedom and responsibility for one's self. They cast off the chains of baseline society, only to make new chains for themselves. Worse, they enforce their views on other members of the One Race through violence and intimidation. They replace philosophy with ideology, thoughtful debate with rhetoric and dogma, reason and understanding with mindless hate. >>>Procyon's brilliant blue eyes darken slightly as he speaks, his voice remaining level. The reporter gapes slightly at his words, astonishment plain on her face.<<<

Murewal: But - and please excuse me for interrupting, Procyon - haven't you commited violent acts on behalf of the Teragen? Your involvement at Bahrain, your actions with Nova Vigilance, your attack on Tehran... They were violent. >>>Procyon shakes his head, smiling slightly.<<<

Procyon: Yes, they were. But I do not speak of Nova Vigilance, or of my various acts of reciprocity for baseline or Utopian actions against the One Race. What you have to understand is that my actions in all cases were guided by my moral principles, and were intended to save lives. Nova lives, primarily, but also human lives in the long run. I bear no hatred for humanity; quite the opposite, in fact. >>>He winks, smiling for a moment before returning to the discussion.<<< Nova Vigilance is an organisation based on retribution for and prevention of acts of baseline oppression against novas. Everywhere we turn, we see willful ignorance and the choosing of fear and hate over understanding and empathy on the part of humankind. And we also have Project Utopia, who tell us all not to stand out too much, not to explore what it means to be other than human, because they see humanity in general as mentally incapable of dealing with the obvious truth: Novas are not human.

Murewal: I know better than to argue that last point with a Terat. >>>She chuckles a touch nervously as Procyon winks, then smiles reassuringly at her.<<<

Procyon: So there comes a time when words fail and the weight of human law steamrolls over the rights of a nova. And when words fail, action is sadly necessary to prevent injustice from taking place. That is what Nova Vigilance stands for, and I offer no apologies for the actions I took for those reasons. As long as there are organisations like the Church of Michael Archangel, as long as there are repressive and bigoted regimes such as Iran or reactionary fools like Mayor Rupert, there will be a need for novas who will stand up and say "No. We will not accept our brutalisation and oppression at your hands." >>>The glowing nova gazes into the camera at this last, his eyes hard as diamonds for an moment, then glances back to the reporter.<<< The Nova Vigilance I have supported does not protect novas who willfully steal, rob and kill with their abilities, and therefore deserve the results of their chosen actions. They protect those whose only 'crime' is being a nova.

Murewal: The U.N classifies Nova Vigilance as a terrorist organisation, though.

Procyon: The U.N also classifies novas as human, because it suits their purposes to do so. But I'm not really interested in debating the semantics of the words 'terrorist' and 'freedom fighter'. >>>Procyon's smile and gentle tone of voice take the sting from his words as he speaks.<<< The point is that there ARE Terat-formed organisations who are terrorists and every bit as bigoted as the most ignorant Michaelite or reactionary politician. And I am no longer going to support their right to be so. I will not support violent bigotry in any form: just because they are Terats does not make their platform right or tolerable to me. For me, Teras is about transcendence. It is not about killing or ruling humans, it is about becoming novas. I have and will continue to teach the principles of Teras to any nova who wishes to learn them from me, regardless of whether or not they are willing to 'join the club'. The truths of the philosophy rest on their own merits: they don't need decoder rings and secret handshakes to retain their validity. >>>Pradina is raptly attentive, her eyes fixed on Procyon's face as he speaks. The glowing nova's words resonate through the minds of those watching and listening, his conviction evident in his tone and the look in his eyes as he gazes into the camera.<<<

Procyon: I cannot and will not stand by and let the word Terat become synonymous with 'murderous racist'. Humanity has enough genocide in it's own history; if we are truly superior beings, then let us damned well act like it. Let our wrath fall on those who deserve such, and let our help come to those who likewise deserve it. There are plenty of individuals deserving of our ire in this world. Those who would slay us for the chemicals of our bodies and brains to make drugs, for example. Those who would dissect us and imprison us simply because we do not meet their ideals of what is normal. They are the aberrations that can pollute the whole. Humanity in general is not our enemy, just as novas in general are not humanity's enemy. There is a middle ground, where we can respect each other's rights to exist as we see fit without inhibiting one another. Let us try and find it. >>>Procyon smiles now, his eyes gleaming like perfect sapphires.<<< It's better than the alternative, surely?

>>>With that, Procyon nods to Pradina and takes her hand, murmuring his thanks to the thunderstruck reporter with a smile before turning once more to the camera and bowing slightly to those watching. As he starts to turn away, a flare of light appears in his aura and the Terat rises easily into the sky, waving farewell to the crowd and camera. Those watching are alone with their thoughts momentarily as he disappears from view in the sky overhead. Some are surprised, some gratified, and others find their thoughts darkening...<<<

[Wakinyan]

Wakinyan clicked the television to mute and sighed. This line her mentor had drawn in the sand worried her. If he opposed certain elements inside the Teragen then those elements would not only oppose him but his students as well. And how many would that be? With her fingers she ticked off who she knew. Herself, Ptesan-Wi, Meghan, Samhra and that strange asian woman he had heard about at the Pow Wow.

It wasn't nearly enough.

There was power there to be sure. And ties no doubt. If they moved on Procyon they would move on them all. If they moved on them all then he knew that others would be pulled in. Long, his sister and wife, Singularity, Flicker, Neil. Then on top of that if the Teragen moved against him in Chicago the Knights would be involved.

It didn't take a vision to understand the Procyon just put out an open invitation to start a war the question was if anyone was brave or foolish enough to take that invitation. For some reason she felt it was almost a sure bet someone would move against him and soon.

Suddenly she didn't want to be in this hotel room or on this road trip. She wanted to be home protecting her wife but a reassuring presence in her mind told her that her wife was fine for the moment and to not stop the task set before her.

Then the realization and worry shifted, Slattern. She snatched up her Opdevice and hooked it over her ear activating it and dialing the number. It clicked to voicemail as she expected. She paused for a moment as it beeped requiring her to speak. Then carefully the deep yet feminine voice spoke. "Slattern it's me, Wakinyan. I need to talk to you about something. It is important please call me back soon." She clicked the link off and tossed the device back onto the nightstand. Was she overreacting? For some reason it felt like what he said was so dangerous that she needed to do this. But maybe it wasn't still it didn't hurt to go with instincts on this and checking up with his loved ones was a small thing to do for piece of mind.

The beautiful woman laid back down and stared at the screen. The muted television was replaying Procyon's speech again. There was no going back she thought as she realized she might not be just a student of the sun god anymore she might become a soldier.

[Doctor Nova Madigan]

Nova "Flicker" Madigan vacuumed the carpet in her shared home in Rio de Janeiro contentedly, humming a tuneless melody. As was her habit, she'd left the television on. In Meghan's absence, It helped to make the immense home seem less empty. Neil Preston, her more-than-boyfriend but less-than-fiance' (When is he going to ask? she wondered.) was away on an errand, preparing for Violet's impending visit.

Nova's eye was caught by the BREAKING NEWS banner on the screen, and was surprised to see her acquaintance and Meghan's mentor Procyon being interviewed. She shut off the vacuum and turned up the volume on the receiver. She wondered how much of the interview she'd already missed.

". . .their 'uniqueness of expression,'" Procyon said in mid-sentence. "Last night, I spoke with a young nova who, very insightfully, pointed out to me that this viewpoint placed me in the same pigeonhole as those members of the Church of Michael Archangel who claim not to support the terrorist activities of their gun-wielding fellows, but do not actually condemn them. In short, the young nova in question brought to light that I was, and have been for awhile, a moral coward. In a flicker of enlightenment, I realised they were right."

Procyon winked at the camera, but to Flicker it seemed as if he'd addressed it to her and her alone.

He's talking about me, she realized. The previous evening, she had said exactly that to Procyon in an online chat session.

"And then the cause of my conflict became painfully obvious," Procyon chuckled. "Morally, I can not associate myself with people who are genocidal bigots--"

Flicker stabbed the MUTE button on the remote and sat down heavily on the sofa.

"Oh, shit, Procyon," she mumbled.

Oh shit, Flicker, for that matter, she realized, her eyes widening.

[Cosmic Comet]

Below him, the Earth turned legthargically upon it's axis. Vast clouds drifted over the convex surface of its' oceans and continents. Above him the white stars beckoned from the blackness, inviting him to join them.

He searched the millions of broadcasts pulsing from the Earth into space, carefully unraveling each transmission like a thread in a knotted ball of twine. It was a feat he was still learning to master and he felt clumsy in his effort. There were many signals, but in particular caught his attention.

Procyon's interview had reached him even in the blackness of space, and had become the topic of much debate. In the last few days Comet's recent transmissions to the OpNet on Earth had included some with Procyon himself. In the course of their conversation, Comsic had began to question some of his beliefs of his place in the world and he was even planning of reaching out to him to learn more about the Teras philosophy.

It didn't take a genius to know that with his interview things were about to get interesting for Procyon. Now if only Cosmic knew what he could do as he begins his descent down to the surface.

[kestrel404]

"Hmph..."

As Alchemist watched the live broadcast on his wrist-device (one of the few displays that he had modified so that he could 'watch' instead of just listen, thanks to his unusual form of blindness), the ramifications played out in his mind. His awareness, for the moment at the peak of what was considdered nova limits, gave him the clarity to accept what was happening and change longterm plans based on this. But, despite the likely outcomes of this, he was smiling.

As soon as the Procyon had finished speaking, he set his wrist-com to dial the man's phone number. A female voice answered. "Procyon's residence?"

"Yes, this is Glenn Roberts of the Windy City Knights. Could you give Procyon a message when he gets back? Tell him that the Knights are interested in having him over for a lecture on the Teras philosophy. Thank you."

After a polite affirmative, he closed the connection.

Sandcaster would be furious, not to mention several of the others. She'd understand, of course, but she'd still be furious that he acted before asking her. Well, he'd take whatever consequences came of it, just as Procyon would. But this was an opportunity that could not be passed up, for them all, for the future.

[GDP_ST]

The message came through to Procyon as he relaxed in a bath, his mind racing over the various possibilities. Who would be 'in touch' first? The Primacy? The Harvesters? Whoever came, he would be ready.

His OpPhone buzzed and the Fordham Spire receptionist passed along the invitation from the WCK. Procyon smiled broadly. It appeared that elements were aligning as he had hoped, at least some of them.

"Put a call back to Mr Roberts: Tell him Procyon is pleased to accept his invitation, and thanks him."

[Ptesan-Wi]

*It will be fine, my love; no need to race home quite yet.*

I hope. The last bit of the thought was not sent to her mate; there was no need for Ptesan-Wi to worry Wakinyan more than he (no, she, damnit) was already.

The Lakota girl busied herself with making some tea as she replayed the broadcast in her mind, the broadcast that she had seen through Wakinyan's eyes all those miles away. She knew very well that she was one of those friends to whom Procyon had referred... and knew all too well that she had been one of those who had caused him to re-evaluate himself. Running into something with powers that isn't a nova will do that, she pondered.

When it came right down to it, Ptesan-Wi couldn't agree with Procyon's words more (with the small mental addition of something to include anti-novas in the mix). But she also knew that it was setting him up for a world of hurt... and with him, his known students - including certain residents of a cave in the middle of the Black Hills.

She thought briefly about reaching out to touch his mind, to ask him about his plans from this point. It wouldn't be the first time she had done so, and his thoughts were familiar enough that she could pick them up from just about anyplace in this hemisphere. No, she finally decided, he's got a lot going on, and the last thing he needs right now is my static in his head. When he's ready, he'll contact us.

I hope.

[Timeslip]

"Procyon did what?!?" Timeslip didn't quite shout in to the phone, but it was a close call.

"Pull up the Op-feed; you'll find it plastered all over the 'Net." The voice at the other end - another Casa whom Timeslip had met only electronically - was a veneer of calm, but plainly only that; a tremor of worry was conveyed despite the control for which he had become known in certain circles.

"I will. Thank you for the heads-up, Martin." Killing the connection, she switched the device over to the news sites, and indeed found Procyon's news conference prominently linked at every one. Picking a vid-feed more or less at random, she sat in silence as she watched one of the luminaries of the Movement proceed to throw a very large wrench into the works.

"Damn." The word didn't come anywhere close to conveying the range of emotions Timeslip felt once the clip had run it's course, but she was frankly too stunned to really come up with something more encompassing.

With a nervous sigh, she switched the device back over to private communications, and punched in a number that wouldn't appear in any directory or on any billing statement. The line clicked open without comment, and she simply said, "Let me know how to proceed regarding the Procyon situation." The line clicked shut with just as little comment as it had opened, and Timeslip sat back to wait for a reply from halfway around the world, from a palace overlooking the city of Valencia, Spain.

[Mithril]

Meghan Cutter, the Girl Made of Titanium, sat on a bench in the shade under the eaves of the railway station in Oxford, England. While she waited for Regina Newcastle to pick her up, she took the opportunity to catch up on the news. Her personal news filter had screened one video clip in particular, and had assigned it a priority rating higher than any other story she'd seen yet.

Meghan double-tapped on the underlined link to the story, and was surprised to see her mentor Procyon being interviewed in Chicago. She listened to what he had to say, carefully, and was astonished.

He's not renouncing violence, is he? she wondered. Her mind wandered back to her own meetings with him, in the penthouse that stood atop the building which was still in the background. The day he'd taken her for a student, they had talked at length on the topic of violence, and Meghan's denial of violence as an option.

Project Utopia are wrong, she had argued. We are undeniably no longer human. But on the other hand, violence against any being is also wrong. There must be some third way, she pleaded, an alternative to the two prevailing worldviews, some way for human and baseline to share a common reality for the benefit of all, if only brilliant minds could study the ethical problem and find the missing variable in the ethical calculus. Procyon had replied, at the time, that it seemed impossible, and that the lust for power would always defeat such a goal, noble as it might be.

Meghan returned her attention to the screen, and saw that Procyon was summing up his announcement:

"Humanity in general is not our enemy," he said "just as novas in general are not humanity's enemy. There is a middle ground, where we can respect each other's rights to exist as we see fit without inhibiting one another. Let us try and find it. It's better than the alternative, surely?"

Meghan paused the video's playback.

A month earlier, she had lay on a grassy hillside next to Timeslip, watching the stars and talking about philosophy.

"It seems to me that with the unlimited intelligence we have at our disposal," she had explained, "we must be able to craft an ideal third way for two sentient races to share the same reality in peace, and with the prosperity of all beings as a mutual goal. What leap of the collective imagination would it require for baselines and novas to live together in harmony? What variable from the ethical calculus is missing, and why can't we find it?"

"Son of a bitch," Meghan whispered, her eyes wide. "You complete rat bastard. That was my idea, you son of a bitch. You took my fucking idea!"

[Singularity]

The terminal flipped off and the remote made a quiet click when Singularity set it onto the coffee table. His mind had been completely clear of all distractions that morning, giving him a near-perfect opportunity to continue his exercises and meditation. But an itch had appeared in his mind, disrupting the harmony he had built and left him unable to continue. He had recognized that feeling and its portentous meanings, hence why he went back into the bungalow to check the OpNet for any sudden events. And he had been just in time to catch Procyon’s interview.

Silence filled the bungalow’s living room and it wrapped around the furniture and Singularity like a blanket. He was as immobile as the chair beneath him but his mind was racing forward at an incredible rate. It was certain that some nova elements would be adversely opposed to what the sun-blessed Terat had proclaimed, despite the productive quality of Procyon’s statement; fanatics did not react well to things that rejected their beliefs no matter how logical or reasonable. Procyon was a lone nova, albeit powerful, but his statement alone wouldn’t cause such a sense of foreboding within Singularity’s mind.

No, this wasn’t going to end with Procyon. Anyone who was “tainted” by his thoughts would be subject to some sort of holy crusade and more than enough of his students were more than happy to bring the fight to his enemies. Sadly, one nova’s decision to realign his life according to this ethos was almost assuredly going to end in bloodshed for many.

*Love, some zealous people are about to have a large and violent disagreement with the two of us; we’d better relocate the library.*

[Velvet]

“I cannot and will not stand by and let the word Terat become synonymous with 'murderous racist'. Humanity has enough genocide in its own history; if we are truly superior beings, then let us damned well act like it.”

In a spacious studio apartment in northern Chicago, a pale woman with deep, violet eyes stared, enraptured, at her laptop screen as it replayed footage of an achingly attractive man wreathed in an aura of gold as brilliant and warm as the sun itself. The passion in his voice tugged at the worn strings of her heart, playing over her emotions as adeptly as an acclaimed violinist. As she listened, the world narrowed to include only the luminous video feed and the peculiarly resonant quality of the Adonis’s voice. Absently, she placed a hand on her compact speakers to stop them from vibrating off the side of the desk.

“Humanity in general is not our enemy, just as novas in general are not humanity's enemy. There is a middle ground, where we can respect each other's rights to exist as we see fit without inhibiting one another. Let us try and find it.”

“Oh, Procyon. You wonderful, beautiful, stupid, stupid man.”

Surely they won’t ignore it… Will they make an example of him? A martyr?

She didn’t know. Velvet wasn’t overly familiar with the Teragen, and had no love of the propaganda they espoused so publicly, and yet, here was one of the philosophy’s most well-known adherents, deliberately challenging the beliefs of many Terats, non-Terats, and baselines alike. Her arguments against his ethical codes and perspectives were like chaff in the wind, as so many of her disagreements with his beliefs melted away. This Teras she could understand, could believe.

But even CoMA was likely to have something to say about it, as it threatened their equally fanatical position to say that perhaps a truly peaceful existence based on mutual benefit could become reality. It couldn’t possibly go well for him, and something inside her twisted at the thought of what might become of the charming and immensely gifted man.

At one point, he might’ve been her lover…

These days, however, as she’d spoken to him more frequently in the OpNet room, she knew him as a friend. There were precious few of those anymore, and as the tears burned her eyes in the darkness, she prayed to gods she didn’t believe in that this one might remain so for a good while longer.

[Blur]

Work had piled up on Blur’s desk despite his distinctly nova advantages. Using his abilities discretely to catch up on any backlogs had never been a problem but his lightning fast reading, processing, and writing only worked if he sat down to even do the work. He’d spent too many of his breaks throughout the past week outside of the office. He’d even consciously decided to curtail his jaunts during the workday but there was always one more emergency to prevent or another poor sap getting assaulted. Hence, the work had piled up and he finally had to come in on a Saturday to catch up; plus or minus a few breaks to prevent a few disasters from becoming disasters, of course.

However, the OpNet called to Blur just like it does to any other person working a desk job and it wasn’t long before he found a certain interview coming from Chicago. A rollercoaster of emotion joined him while he watched the interview, sliding between disinterest, hope, amused disappointment, and sadness. How could someone get so close to the truth of the world and recognize hate for hate but yet still subscribe to corresponding propaganda?

Setting down his pen and the file he was reading, Blur sat back in his chair and let the future unfold in his mind. Most of the world wouldn’t see the immediate results of this publicized break from the unified Teragen front; at the very least Procyon would be attacked, socially or physically, for his words. And at worse there would be a quiet but bloody revolution within the Teragen if Procyon’s words found fertile soil in the minds of some Terats. But there was a distinct probability that the radical elements the golden Terat had mentioned would win enough supporters, all but guaranteeing a violent war between baselines and novas. As if Ibiza hadn’t done enough to ensure the eventual self-destruction of society and all sentient life.

Blur brought up a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes. A proudly avowed Terat had publicly embraced something that was remotely close to the truth and now too many people were going to try to kill him for it. And Charlie wondered why Blur preferred anonymity.

No matter, there were still too many student files left for Blur to review and there weren’t any radical Terats coming to assault him over his beliefs. Not yet, at least. But he could feel the probability of that happening increasing as every moment passed.

[Jager]

Jager sat back on his ledge watching the fifth estate scramble to prepare itself as Procyon descended in Sun-God mode. It took Jager a few mili-seconds to fight through Procyon's "Gotta-love-me" vibe, which seems extra purposeful today. Jager watches Procyon close in on his prey and start his deliver.

'Not much to watch', Jager thinks, 'but it always pays to keep an eye out whenever he wants to do something showie.

Jager only half-listens to the self-important lecture until he hears,

The only way to fight ignorance is through knowledge, not through violence and suspicion.

Jager is up and alert. He smells the fires, the burnt flesh, and backwash of quantum overflow.

'Fuck me,' Jager whispers then he activates his uplink to the Boss.

"Sandcaster, this is Jager. Turn to N!Prime now! You should get all of it due to time lag. This is bad this is ..."

"Jager, wait a sec.," Sandcaster tells Jager.

Told to wait, he waits. Sandcaster doesn't keep him waiting for long.

"Well, it looks like we're asking him to pay us a visit and deliver a seminar. Don't ask. Just.... don't ask."

The sun is bright as it burns down on Jager. His senses exist in both the hear and now and the possible future ... when hunting, death, and destruction are involved. The world has taken a sudden twist. A painful one, Jager feels in his gut.

Jager starts making some private calls.

[Hugin]

The scow chugged along the Brazillian coast, trailing seabirds. A vile stench wafted on the breeze.

But down below.

In a hidden deck.

People speak.

"Fuck him. Fuck him twice if he's talking about what I think he's talking about doing." Mako rumbles and slowly snaps links off a thick steel chain.

Gutter snickers, "Oh, but we're Nova Vigilance, he likes us."

Mako turns on his love and snarls, spittle flying "No! Not if he's handing over Chrysalis. Not that, that's too far. That's the one thing we have that irrefutabely shows we know what it means to be a nova. Mal got it right down flat on that one."

A slight hum rises above the sound of dripping water, they turn and see Hugin sitting there in a chair that looks to have been crafted from a spider's web, "Hello, Mako. Hello, Gutter. Hello Ape. And how are we all today?"

Ape chuckles, "Wow. The shit must be really hitting the fan if your ass showed up in our stinky little paradise."

Mako turns to Ape and bares his teeth, "Shut the fuck up, I'm not in the mood. Hugin's alright. You know that. The man....chick...WHAT THE FUCK EVER!!! Hugin's with us." He faces Hugin, "So, what's up? Besides the obvious."

Hugin frowns, "There is going to be blood my friends. A lot of it."

"No shit, if he does what he's talking about I'll spill every drop of his." Mako mutters, not willing to raise his voice at Hugin.

"No, I don't mean that. This is just the first spark. He, a public Terat, has called out other Terats. And he's called out our most emotional. That and I'm sure you've connected the dots at the implication that he may have been referencing Chrysalis. If he does that you can be sure that not only with the extremists be upset but some of our calmer membership. And of course, his student's lives will be forfit."

Mako nods, "Fuck right on that last one."

Hugin continues, "That and his speech will hardly satisfy most baseline authorities. He supports Nova Vigilance, we are still considered terrorists by nearly every baseline government. He's trying to find a middle ground where many don't believe any can or should exist."

"Well, I mean, toning things down a bit wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Gutter pipes up. She tends towards being a more mild-mannered NV member. Mako loves her for it. His restraining soul in a hot little body.

"No, it wouldn't be. To you or to me. But tell that to the Confederate. Or tell Delomier that absolute obedience isn't required. Procyon's little call for reason is aimed at some extremely unreasonable people. I thought he was smarter than this."

Hugin sighs, and walks towards the threesome's table. He puts down a bulging file she'd been carrying, "Alright. We need to prepare."

[Ghostwriter]

"Procyon, I don't know whether to applaud you or kick your ass," Samhra observed as she watched a replay of the shocking conference. Ptesan-Wi, bless her little cotton socks, had alerted her when she made a rare appearance in the OpNet chat.

*Sorry I didn't answer you earlier, love - channelling quantum to impress tribal savages is definitely a new thing for me. Procyon's right, and I am with him a hundred percent. I know I'm good enough to give many Terats pause, and I'm not afraid to use the DC over this.*

[Typhoon]

A large submersible silently slid between thermal layers somewhere in the waters of the Pacific. It was the middle of the night shipboard time, so most of the lights were rather diffused. The captain was the only living soul onboard.

On the main deck on that vessel, a titanium nova sat in the reinforced captain's chair looking at a monitor. Light danced and reflected off his furrowed brow as the image on the screen showed a recent interview in Chicago.

"Always before, I shared the party line that I was not responsible for the actions of other Terats, that it was not for me to judge them or interfere with their 'uniqueness of expression'. Last night, I spoke with a young nova who, very insightfully, pointed out to me that this viewpoint placed me in the same pigeonhole as those members of the Church of Michael Archangel who claim not to support the terrorist activities of their gun-wielding fellows, but do not actually condemn them. In short, the young nova in question brought to light that I was, and have been for awhile, a moral coward. In a flicker of enlightenment, I realised they were right. And then the cause of my conflict became painfully obvious.

The titanium man watched the feed with muted interest and when it was finally over he looked about himself and looked upwards thoughtfully. "It seems things are about to get somewhat interesting for all those genocidal bigots... and for the rest of us as well." He quickly thought of those Terats he had a semi-friendly relationship with... and how it might involve his team.

"Timeslip and Long."

He immediately placed the boat on yellow alert and contacted the rest of his crew for an urgent meeting.

[Violette 'V' D'Aronique]

Statement given to N! via OpNet video with Violette D'Aronique, former member of Team Tomorrow and self-proclaimed Transhumanist.

N!: What's your reaction to the statements made by the nova Procyon earlier? Agree, disagree, care to comment at all?

Violette: It's very similar to what I've been trying to get people to understand since I resigned from Project Utopia. Groups like the terrorists Procyon is referring to are a result of the tensions between nova and baseline, and not the cause of it.

Novas like myself, transhumanists who understand that we aren't human and strive to realize our potential, have, in the past, had little choice but to go the Teragen because it's been the most visible symbol of that belief. We're met with scorn because we don't conform to the Zurich Accord and end up getting lumped in with the Teragen who also reject it. After a time, it becomes the easiest safe haven and community for novas. It's not easy living with the rejection and resentment going public brings. It gets lonely living in the wild outside the comfortable cage of the Zurich Accord.

Most of us don't want to go to the Teragen - we aren't supremacists and we want peaceful existence with humanity; we're trying to learn ways of co-existing with baseline humanity that don't compromise the fact that we aren't like them, and at the same, avoid being opportunistic of the fact that we have advantages that baseline humanity doesn't.

I'm actually very encouraged by the fact that a Terat is condemning the actions of his brethren. With luck, this will draw out the novas who feel as I do, but felt they had no other place to go, out of the Teragen and into the open where they no longer have to hide. Hopefully, it will help enable those non-Terat transhumanists that have been silent to speak out.

[TeleRhyde]

Shrapnel called him to her through their link. With a thought, he stood before her, obedient and waiting. A furious heat radiated from Shrapnel as she paced back and forth. TelerRhyde took the pause to notice the three shattered Vid devices. The broken electronics highlighted the general damage the room had suffered. TeleRhyde remained at parade rest while Shrapnel paced. He kept his breathing calm and rhythmic, so as not to draw attention to himself ... until she needed him.

"Contact them", Shrapnel snapped to her lieutenant. TeleRhyde closed his eyes and concentrated. Having centered his mind, TeleRhyde spoke one word.

"Orders?"

Shrapnel stopped in and instant and glared at him. TeleRhyde didn't flinch. Flinching at this moment might be terminal. Instead of striking TelerRhyde, Shrapnel took several deep breaths. Her radiated heat slackened and she sat down in the ruins of her stone chair. Slowly her gaze went to the floor.

'Good', TeleRhyde thought, 'she's thinking about it the future as well as the now.'

TeleRhyde chose his words with care.

"Barry will want to act immediately. He'll want to make Procyon suffer, bait him out then destroy him."

"We should," she snapped at him.

TeleRhyde nodded then added, "That is most likely what Procyon is prepared for. An open fight designed to make us expend resources, hurt our influence with the other True Terats, and hurt our position with the vast body of unenlightened novas out there."

Now, she growled at him. She knew TeleRhyde counciled caution and that wasn't what she wanted, yet ... Barr ... The Confederate's actions were tactically unsound. Damn it, Shrapnel had envisioned the Primacy as the Terats who thought strategically and acted tactically. Now they were going to react to that self-styled Sun God? Shrapnel's growl deepened.

"I want to talk to Geryon," she finally spoke. TeleRhyde nodded and replied,

"Do you want Epoch too?"

This was a risk. TeleRhyde could nudge Shrapnel in a direction, not guide or decieve her. This time, he was fortunate.

"Yes," she said directly, not missing a beat. With those two we can design the appropriate vengeance."

TeleRhyde nodded curtly once again. 'And Epoch will let Orzaiz know that we aren't jumping the gun ... yet.' TeleRhyde kept those thoughts to himself.

TeleRhyde let his mind free of his body and reached one then two destinations. Both contacts would set in motion Geryon and Epoch (hopefully) agree to meet. TeleRhyde also noted with a tiny mote of pleasure that she didn't have him contact Barry. Perhaps that confrontation was finally coming. It would be brutal, with Barry having the greater numbers, but Shrapnel having the stronger novas. Now TeleRhyde found himself praying their strength would be enough.

TeleRhyde raised his head, opened his eyes and said, "Done."

For her part, she looked down at TeleRhyde. He was no elite; no real soldier of the Primacy. She knew he was loyal to the movement; fanatically so. He was also dedicated to her and suddenly that was becoming much more important than she had previously considered.

[Titan A9F]

Standing in the metallic structure of his own design, pouring coffee for his visitor, the nova called Titan Alfa Niner Fox or simply Titan, seemed happier than he’d been for months since his eruption. Doctor Isabelle la Fontaine of Utopia Intervention noted the positive attitude mentally as she sipped the coffee then broached the inevitable question.

“How are you Ken?”

“Good,” he answered with a smile across his metallic face as the material of the floor rose to form a chair for him to sit in. “How about you? Still saving the world one nova at a time?”

“You were hardly in need of saving,” she responded, absently noting the graceful almond shape of the eyes she’d found very attractive during his stay in New York following his eruption.

A Utopia certified para-psychologist, she knew the attraction was somehow inspired by his ability to manipulate quantum energies but even so it was very easy to feel charmed in his presence. Not enough to overlook his not so subtle attempt to shift the focus of the conversation away from himself, but he was still very charming.

“Are you still having the dreams,” she continued after another sip of coffee.

The nova looked away for a moment to stare at something only he could see before turning back to her to answer.

“Not usually. Days, sometimes weeks, will go by that I don’t even think about it. Then I do and it’s like I’m back there again. I can smell the ozone. The hairs on the back of my arms are standing up. There’s a pulse in the air. And then… Bang.”

This was something they’d discussed at length after his traumatic eruption. His belief it had all happened slowly enough for him to recall discrete events of the moment when realistically it should have happened too quickly for his conscious mind to form any impressions. She refrained from stating this to him partly because the belief was so strong but also because he was a nova and the normal rules of memory and perception did not always apply. Instead she accepted his answer and followed up on another avenue of his transformation.

“You said in our weekly phone call you missed your heart. What exactly did you mean by that?”

“Can you hear your heart beat, Isabelle?”

That easy familiarity again, something that had peeked out once or twice near the end of his stay at the New York Rashoud Facility when he’d finally accepted her as someone that asked questions but did not question him. She felt the warmth rise to her cheeks and wondered if he noticed but no, he was looking away from her lost in thought.

“Of course you can,” he answered without waiting for her response. “You don’t most of the time but it’s always there in the background being ignored because it’s always there. I miss feeling my heartbeat. I miss feeling the blood pumping like when I would go running in the early mornings and do that last sprint at the very end.”

“I like this,” he said turning his attention back to her. “I like the strength and the… I guess power is a good word. I like the fact I’m never going to get a cold or feel a chill when I’m getting sick. The things I can do with metals are a rush you wouldn’t believe.”

Lifting his left hand as he spoke he made a fist and squeezed. The motion was accompanied by a sound that was not surprisingly like thick metal being bent but there was also a sort of thrumming noise almost at the edge of aural perception. She hadn’t heard that before, or at least hadn’t noticed it, and so made a mental note for her eventual report.

“But you miss the sound of your heart,” she said paraphrasing his earlier statement.

“Yeah.”

The pause lengthened almost to the point of being uncomfortable before he smiled at her and refilled her coffee cup. Later he would take her through the structure he called a home, designed by him and built with his own quantum abilities, as they talked. She would probe gently and he would answer mostly without evasion. His answers would be lightly colored by the sadness of a man transformed by events beyond his comprehension and the deaths he witnessed. Yet there would be the undercurrent of optimism and vibrancy so many of the newly erupted possessed as they were first beginning to seek to define their new place in the world.

His answers would demonstrate his comprehension of how his abilities could negatively impact a small but integral important part of the global economy while having little desire to do so. She would see his reflection in the metallic walls of his home, “checking her out” as American’s would say, only to look away when she turned towards him. Her eyes in turn would follow the reflective curves of his body as he led her through his home while she idly wondered what it would feel like to be held in arms of warm metal. They would talk of current events and exchange opinions. She was a dedicated employee of Project Utopia and he was still new enough to be curious about novas she’d met or interacted with. He was softly but adamantly opposed to anything having to do with a career as an elite. Both of them were mildly concerned by the recent broadcast by the nova Procyon indicating a break in the united front of the Teragen movement. Soon enough the world would intrude with ramifications and repercussions enough to be felt all the way to Savannah, Georgia.

But for now they simply sat in silence, her drinking coffee and he playing host to his former counselor, as they enjoyed the calm.

[z-Clark]

Clark released the gravometric and magnetic energies she had gathered, dropping them slowly to avoid any kind of back-lash. Finally, things were back to normal in her lab, and the petite red-head straightens up, rubbing her lower back. It ached constantly now and she was counting the days. Soon, soon, she counseled herself.

The glowing visage of Procyon burned on her monitor, as real-as-life. "Volume up 20," Clark ordered, and the computer turned up the sound. She listened in silence, her green eyes intent. She soaked up his words, sorted them by category, and filed them away with similar comments from other people.

"It is fortuitous, Grey, that I kept our meetings with him a secret," Clark told her child, her voice grave. Grey responded by pressing his or her hand against the side of the womb; Clark smiled as she placed her hand over the child's. "One for yes, hmm?"

The single press came again, and Clark smiled at the intriguing coincidence. "It is very good that we do not have a visible connection. I will offer what support I can-" The memo that appears on her screen reduces her careful preparations in an instant. Clark was so agitated by Alchemist's announcement that she missed Grey's hand again.

Finally, she was done reading. Wearily, she rubbed her forehead, trying to factor how this played into her plans. She was a long time, sitting and thinking.

[Trooper]

The briefing room was abuzz with chatter. The news about the Terat's proclamation had made the rounds and now everyone was talking about it. As a group the Elites of Devries tended towards the "We're not human" school of thought but didn't tend towards political expression. Politics didn't pay the bills. Politics didn't make doing a mission any easier. Most of the times it made it harder.

But everyone assumed the meeting had to be about the announcement. Madame Devries herself had called it. Trooper took his chair three rows back. Behind the big names. Tradition and respect drove everything in the camp. Name and reputation were coin of the realm. You didn't cut in front of the line when Pursuer was waiting for chow and you didn't think you could sit in front of Gloomhammer if you couldn't match him kill for kill and op for op. So Trooper took his seat and others took theirs. Manners and recognition of tradition amongst dangerous men and deadly women.

"Attention everyone," Anna took the podium, "We're hear to discuss the announcement made by the Terat, Procyon. You are aware that as Elites under contract with Devries that there are certain restrictions made upon your ability to speak freely about matters that could effect business."

A low hum of mumbling answered her. Mostly acknowledgements. No grumbling, yet.

"In regards to Procyon it has been decided that if you, as an individual, not speaking for Devries as a company, feel the need to support his stance we can find that acceptable. It is already understood that many of you hold transhumanist beliefs. And while we are aware that this could impact potential contracts it is our hope that clients will recognize this for the non-extremist comprimise that can make life better for everyone on earth."

The mumbling increased in volume, luckily the tone seemed upbeat.

"But, please, remember. You will speak as individuals and not as representitives of Devries. Also, you will accept that this can have a negative impact on your viability to some clients. You could likely see a reduction in offered contracts. That will be on your head and not on mine. Understand that. If you have any further questions please direct them to your handlers. Dismissed."

Trooper walked out of the briefing room ignoring the chatter of his comrades. The company line seemed to be set, but how did he feel about it?

[The White Rat]

Clicking off the video feed, the White Rat thought about the conversation he had just completed. Was the Terat Procyon really going to give up the secrets of taint? Leviathan hinted to him that was Procyon's intent. Where was Zia? He was usually a bit calmer when it came to these matters. I need to focus, the white Rat angrily reflected. Now is not the time for delusions. I have a lot of work to do.

The former human known as Joseph, shambled quickly to his room to study the video recording of Procyon's declaration. If what Leviathan said was true, he would have to research the known powers and abilities of the powerful being known as Procyon.

"I have and will continue to teach the principles of Teras to any nova who wishes to learn them from me, regardless of whether or not they are willing to 'join the club'". A murderous urge welled up within him when he heard that sentence. He wanted to reach through the screen and tear out Procyon's viscera.

Suppressing the taint fueled emotion, he sighed. "I guess that is that. He's crossed a line he shouldn't have."

With Leviathan's blessing, he was to form a strategy to deal with the situation. It would also be necessary to create a team capable of implementing it.

The best part of this whole situation, other than his personal evisceration of Procyon, was that his exile was ending: he would be returning to Chicago.

[z-Roki Fuja]

Adam watched Procyon's address on Hulston's Flex-screen OpNet device. The screen could fold up into a two-inch by three-inch rectangle, and fit into a pocket. Unfolded, it had a thriteen inch screen. Technically, it was Adam's, but he had yet to earn it; naked pictures of Ms. Rawlings was proving harder to come by than he had thought.

"Wow," Hulston said, his eyes shining when flipped off the device. "That guy is... wow."

"Yeah, he's not that big of a Terat hot-shot," Adam muttered, shrugging. "He left a while ago. My mom-" Adam cut himself off, silently cursing himself.

Hulston was quiet for a moment. In an unusual display of empathy from the spoiled rich-kid, Hulston asked, "Any word on your mom, yet?"

"No, whereever Dad has her, he's got her hidden well," Adam mumbled, looking down at the desk. Technically, it was a study-period, but the teachers never repremanded Hulston for anything. It was one reason Adam put up with the asshole, the other being that Hulston had decided he was cool for some reason, and tended to toss money at him.

"I'm sorry," Hulston said, his tone making it clear that he didn't use that word much. "Hey, but what do you think? Isn't that Procakle guy's speech cool? The Teragen is starting to wake up."

"No," Adam grunted, shrugging his shoulders. "He's just starting some shit." The teacher twitched, but said nothing; Hulston's father gave way too much money to this school to risk angering his son. And everyone knew that Adam was Hulston's current favorite. "It'll stir up some trouble, make some waves, they'll be some fighting, but it won't really change anything, except give another side to pick."

A side I would be on, Adam sighed to himself, if I were older. His fists clenched in his pockets as he once again faced the fact that he was too young for something. Too young to fight, too young to erupt, too young for Ellen... I guess I'm just lucky I'm old enough to eat, breathe and shit.

A headache throbs through his skull, ceasing all thoughts. "I guess," Hulston replied, his voice distant outside the pain. "Adam? You alright?"

"Yeah," Adam sighed. "Just fine." He blinked away the pain as the headache faded, and grinned at Hulston. "Does that thing get Playboy?"

The teacher just sat helplessly as Hulston said, "Yeah, it does," and the two boys leaned in to watch.

[Sujatmi]

On a street in an American city in front of an electrical goods store that sold televisions, a woman who could be anyone watched the one on display.

"Nan Ho, what have you done?" she whispered in Chinese, granting him the name the Chinese astrologers did his star.

What else could she say? If she rejoiced that he had finally turned away from the inherent racism of his movement, she knew that he had effectively signed his own death warrant in the eyes of some of his Terat 'friends'.

Like everything in her relationship with Procyon, her feelings were mixed, bittersweet. But again, she could not turn away from him.

*I will be with you, no matter, Nan Ho ..."

[HyperFocus]

Months after the fact, David “HyperFocus” Giardello reviewed Procyon’s announcement.

He had seen it upon its first airing, of course. But that was months ago, before he had taken the leap into a more active role in the social and ideological arenas popular with other Novas. Now he was making some surprising enemies and some even more surprising friends.

David had gotten involved in an opsite debate on Teragen ethics precisely to identify such sympathetic elements. He never expected the recently re-emerged godling to attempt dialogue himself. Usually he found these older more experienced Terats possessed a “post-everything” attitude he found unproductive. The pretension of disengagement from the real world struck David as incredible bourgeoisie. He ignored them largely to keep from aggravating himself.

This one, however…this one may be…different. David began to take notes as the video file progressed:

Timestamp: 01:36.58- “And now I want to set some records straight, Pradina. The only way to fight ignorance is through knowledge, not through violence and suspicion. This is not a decision I take lightly: there will be some who will take exception to my views, others who will fear they represent and seek to destroy me for them. But in rediscovering myself, I know now what I have to do: even if it leads to my destruction, I would rather die on my feet, doing what I believe to be the best thing for all, than live on my knees.”

Note: Christ, this man talks like a cross between a politician and a self-help guru. He’s got that reporter eating out of his hand. Dangerously high amounts of nova level social ability. Begin strategizing possible countermeasures.

Timestamp: 02:58.38- “They replace philosophy with ideology, thoughtful debate with rhetoric and dogma, reason and understanding with mindless hate”

Note: Call and response. Echoes of Clinton’s “Sistah Soljah” moment. I’m going to steal a few of those lines for my lecture on “Politics in the Nova Age” at American University next week.

Timestamp; 4:10.07- “And we also have Project Utopia, who tell us all not to stand out too much, not to explore what it means to be other than human, because they see humanity in general as mentally incapable of dealing with the obvious truth: Novas are not human.”

Note: Another interesting ideological tack. Utopia does seem oddly reminiscent of High School administrators, telling me if I only was a little less “out” I probably wouldn’t be gay bashed as much. The “Novas are not human” bit is troubling though.

Timestamp 5:43.23 “Humanity in general is not our enemy, just as novas in general are not humanity's enemy. There is a middle ground, where we can respect each other's rights to exist as we see fit without inhibiting one another. Let us try and find it. >>>Procyon smiles now, his eyes gleaming like perfect sapphires.<<< It's better than the alternative, surely?”

David sat back, all other monitors turned off…his main screen filled with the Sun Gods grinning visage. Procyon was obviously incredibly powerful and, therefore, incredibly dangerous. David would quite literally be playing with fire to ally with such a man. Still, a meeting couldn’t hurt…somewhere public, somewhere that will compel him to behave. He grinned as a thought struck him and reached for the call button to alert his scheduling assistant.

“Michelle? Please contact American University. I’m hoping to have a very special guest for my lecture next week and I’m sure they’ll want to be notified”

David leaned back. He’d be able to observe Procyon’s reactions while he was in the audience and proceed from there. He’d have his assistant book dinner after the lecture at Olives, a high priced Washington restaurant. If Procyon seemed reasonable, they could continue their discussion there.