32nd Tuesday, 41237 AD – 2037 CST / Federated World Central Office, geosynchronous orbit over the Atlantic Ocean
“They didn’t take it the direction that we expected. They played with the technology for a few generations, and then lost the ability in that damnable war,” TriAlim pounded on the surface of the table, blanching the soft skin of his hand where he struck, his dark round eyes searched the council for someone to support his decision to lose his composure. The council looked back at him calmly, and so he was shamed by his unjustified emotional outburst. More quietly, he continued, “Can’t we allow the technology to survive the war, so that those who come after the war might do the work we seek?”
“We cannot,” TriLiton spoke up. “We already know that if any high technology survives the War of the Consonants, the Regenesis Project will begin in 2476, and we will all be a lot worse off. We already decided that it would be preferable to allow the timeline to go on un-policed than to allow the Regenesis Project to occur.”
“TriLiton is correct,” said Head Chairman BuFrodes, his light-grey eyes – the only pair of that color in the room – looked directly at TriAlim, “We need another solution.”
TriAlim felt resentful towards TriLiton, but chose not to shame himself again. He motioned for WaRolin, the council’s expert on Temporal Correction, to take the floor. WaRolin stood up, “We have no choice but to let the Quantum, and Pre-quantum Ages go un-policed. To interfere any further runs the risk of a Disconnect Event.” WaRolin glanced across the table, where his assistant, TriLiton was making a show of being bored and exasperated. “You seem to have a better idea, Assistant TriLiton.”
TriLiton did not let himself be deterred by the face-loss associated with his superior’s use of his full title, “I do.”
“Please share, TriLiton,” BuFrodes requested, allowing TriLiton to regain face, and stripping some from WaRolin. Obviously, the Head Chairman wasn’t happy with the expert’s answer. “We could easily send back a single representative. Surely, we can expend the power for one such journey. This man could serve as our representative to the ancient people of the Quantum Age, and guide them in the correct direction…”
“Impossible,” WaRolin interrupted him. “This is insane. For us to directly interfere in the workings of the Quantum Age would be a gross violation of policy, and would be the most assured way to create a Disconnect Event. In addition, it would risk the life of a valued member of our society.” WaRolin reddened with rage, as he noticed that BuFrodes was not being convinced, “Need I remind you that even today, we don’t understand the true repercussions of a Disconnect Event, and that every time we risk one, we also run the risk of a Zeta Disconnect?!”
“Calm yourself, Expert WaRolin,” the Head Chairman said to him, stoically, “you dishonor yourself and this council with your outburst. Sit down, and let TriLiton finish”
“I will not,” WaRolin demanded, still standing, “If you allow this Tri-level assistant undermine me, you dishonor myself and my family, and I will no longer sit on this council.”
This was a serious situation, and the Head Chairman allowed the silence of the moment to draw out, as he looked around the table for some clue as to the feelings of the other councilmen. WaRolin saved at least some face by not looking around for himself, his glare was fixed directly and steadfastly on the Head Chairman. Finally, BuFrodes stood himself and turned to the expert of Temporal Correction. “You are hereby stripped of your position and seat. Return to your father, DeRolin, you have much still to learn.”
Slowly, DeRolin’s shoulders drooped. He looked once at his former assistant, across the table, who was frowning deeply out of respect for his former superior, though he know this meant certain promotion. DeRolin walked away from the table, and was escorted through the doors.
The Head Chairman turned to the new Expert of Temporal Correction, “Please stand, WaLiton, and finish your proposal to this council. Keep in mind, however, that you are my primary candidate for the lead position in your plan.”
“Thank you, BuFrodes.” WaLiton stood and turned to address the council. For the first time, he was afraid of his own plan, and as he recited the details to the council, he thought of many new additions, which might make the mission a little safer.
Look for the next chapter of Zeta Disconnet: Part 2 next week on Short-Media. In the meantime, comment on this chapter in our forums.
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