for all the world's a stage - LIBRARY LOG

[libraryassistants]

Who: The Editors
What: The Library changes once again...
When: January 9- January 22
Where: The Library
Content warnings: Please put them in the comment headers!

The Assistants have vanished into their backroom once again, leaving only the increasingly unbelievable “Back In 5” sign on the Help Desk, but at least they have attempted to impart some knowledge on the Editors before departing (or… attempted to do anything but, depending who you ask). The customary tea cart with drinks and increasingly stale biscuits is parked in its usual spot, though it seems that the quality of the tea at least has improved some. (Still waiting on coffee improvement.)

There’s a new crafting setup in the Maker Space, a table with an iron and machine for making vinyl designs, along with the instructions on how to use it, and a stack of t-shirts in various sizes. Usually there’s something in the correct size, but, well, mistakes happen. While this addition to clothing is a boon, there is the problem that the t-shirts can’t be taken out of the room until some sort of design is put on them. Get creative! Show off your style! Or maybe just steal one of the shirts that are there for display purposes. It’s fine, the Library can make more.

In the second week as the Library begins to change once more, the Lobby’s wooden floor shines with extra polish. The walls make an odd creaking sound as they shift, warping into brick covered with velvet drapings in a rich, dark red. Gold thread twinkles in the stitches, a sense of opulence woven through. The sound of ballroom music drifts by and, while in the Lobby, characters will be taken by the unusual impulse to dance.

Outside, in the Garden, the day/night cycle has paused firmly on a cloudless night. A full moon hangs in the air - literally. About the size of a basketball, it follows the first person who enters the Garden; hovering a couple of meters above their head. A white aura spreads from them, powered by the moon, and those who are caught in its light will find themselves unable to speak anything but the truth.

When the person to whom the moon is attached leaves the garden, the moon and its aura will leave them; and the moon will attach to the next person to enter instead.

On the circulation desk, there is a sign: “This Week’s Recommended Reading: Twilight!” The accompanying sign up sheet waits next to it for those wishing to check it out- though some will receive the movie instead of the book, with no particular rhyme or reason to it. Periodically someone might also receive something else entirely. Whoops? The Assistants at least will fix that quickly. Richard will be embarrassed, while Phillip will be trying not to cackle.

While not advertised, various iterations of different stories will be available throughout the Library. In particular, someone seems to have left the projector in one of the meeting rooms running, with a variety of different recorded plays. These range from professional productions, to parodies, to what appear to be high schoolers (of which one production features a sixteen year old version of Phillip running around being an absolutely nuisance.

Comments

[guilliman]

He whistles. (That's the appropriate reaction, right? Casual, humourous surprise?) "That is impressive. You have a great deal of skill."

His part done, he settles back to watch Nine do whatever he's going to do. The details of the conversation do bring a smile to his face, though. "It is not uncommon in the Imperium, either. The lack of augmentics here has been surprising. I did consider implants myself, but I did not want to be locked in to specific hardware, if enemies ever discovered exploits. All I have here is a servo-skull. Which is still quite useful."

Well, that and the silvery interface ports that run up his arms and down his spine... but he doesn't mention those.

[stabgremlin]

There was slight twitch at the corner of his lips at the whistle— not quite a smile but amusement all the same. And though he didn't voice his agreement about having a great deal of skill he did think that he did indeed have it.

He did move to prepare more food to go along with what was already cooking— salad to go alongside it, even though what he'd made so far would indeed feed at least five.

"Considering this place seems happy to pull people from a lot of different worlds, I would not be surprised if most people here are from places less technologically advanced. I've visited cultures in my own where if it hadn't been for other people finding their planet, even something as simple as space flight would have been hundreds— if not thousands— of years off."

He gave a half shrug, "And some people also just prefer to keep anything unnatural out of their bodies for a lot of different reasons. My own concerns about implants are similar to yours... Plus I wouldn't be surprised if the Empire riddles their official tech with spyware and loyalty assurance protocols."

Given that the Empire had been content to brainwash him, Nine didn't want to think what they could do if he went to them for implants. And he didn't want to think about the risk associated with the implants you could get on the streets in Hutt space either.

"Nothing quite like the idea of questioning your superiors and getting zapped into submission for the disrespect."

Like getting electrocuted wasn't already a massive risk one took by working for the Sith.

"I am thankful to have my datapad and one of my companion droids here with me though," He said, gesturing toward a tablet that laid on a nearby table— with the only program currently open being the direct camera feed from his droid as it zipped through the library, "Without them I might actually have lost my marbles and started a conspiracy board or drawing on the walls or whatever it is crazy people usually do."

He glanced back at the man then, "What sort of tech is this servo-skull of yours? I admit I am curious about any technology that I'm unfamiliar with."

[guilliman]

"Aye. There are planets enough that we allow to exist at feral or feudal levels as well, so long as they pay their tithes. It would be cruel otherwise. To believe that their sun is a god, then learn the full scale of the galaxy? It ends poorly."

Oh, he likes this young man. (He might not he young, in fairness.) Is he xenos or is he abhuman? His metabolism seems extreme, if his food prep is any indicator. But whatever he is, he's clearly a clever, forward-thinking member of his local military.

"Compliance routines are not uncommon for us either," Guilliman agrees. "Especially for menials, ship's crews, or anyone in the MechanicusThough for them, I believe removing those routines is a rite of passage. One of my brothers had a substantial interface, but the entire apparatus and the Logos it interfaced with was all of his design. He did not trust anyone else with it," he says fondly. "And I enjoyed making adjustments to my armor and weaponry, as I saw need for it, but I was not as proficient as he."

His attention being drawn, he fixes it helpfully on that tablet. "A dataslate, we would call that. It is receiving a pict-feed, I see? I will show you a servo-skull." He clicks his tongue. "1L. Come."

The soft, smooth hover of very good antigrav engines, and a heavily augmented and quite decorative human skull floats into the kitchenette.

"Abominable intelligence is banned in the Imperium. Biological computing strata, however, are permitted." He taps at the skull's 'cheek,' and it bobs in place and trills agreeably, the red lights of its eyes flaring. "1L-0N4 is an artificer grade scriptorum-focus servo-skull. She was one of many in my service on my flagship, but here, she has been promoted to primary assistant."

[stabgremlin]

"That's... Nicer than what my Empire usually does to planets like that."

Nine did think that the kindest thing to do would be to set surveillance and then leave such planets alone. But what this Imperium did was better than the Sith Empire's policies on undeveloped worlds whenever they got there before the Republic did.

"If its inhabitants are humans they're worth being educated and added to the Imperial fold, but I suspect the transition is rough regardless. If they're not..."

He didn't think he needed to say what happened to worlds where the inhabitants weren't human. The implication was enough. And honestly he'd rather not think on it either.

Planets where humans had gone backwards rather than forwards after ending up stranded on some backwater were likely fairly rare but not a statistical impossibility. Nine couldn't say he'd ever personally dealt with any stray pockets of humanity but it wasn't too long since he'd fought his way through savages on Rakata Prime and if it could happen to the Rakata then it could happen to anyone.

"Not trusting anyone else with gear or implants is a wise choice. I've always been rather protective of my own gear and if someone tried to adjust anything about my rifle for me I think I'd probably bite first and ask questions later."

It was a little fascinating how different but also how similar an entirely foreign world from his own could be. Similar words. Similar-ish tech. And similar cultures too from the sound of it. He would wonder if that said anything about sapient creatures as a whole, but he had never been much for pondering on those sorts of questions. Maybe people were just going to be people regardless of where one went.

His brows rose at the appearance of the servo-skull, and while his expressions had been fairly reserved so far there was now a rather clear look of interest and more than a little curiosity.

"Fascinating," He said, turning more fully to look at it, "Don't think I've ever seen anything quite like her."

He could think of more than one Sith Lord who would love something like that though. The aesthetics alone would draw them in like moths to a flame.

"Can I take a closer look?" He asked, and then held his hands up in a disarming sort of way, "And I do mean only looking. I imagine biting me would be out of the question but considering the size of you I suspect it'd be easy enough to punt me across the room for touching something of yours."

[guilliman]

"The similarities are fascinating," he says, unwittingly agreeing with Nine's silent observations. "And there is a small xenos empire near my own holdings, actually, with a species that is not dissimilar in appearance to yourself. I want very badly to meet with their leaders one day. But the Imperium, as well, is unkind to xenos and those who affiliate with them." His smile is wry and apologetic. "And even I am bound by our laws, to some degree."

There is a private joke in that, the crinkling at the corners of his eyes suggests.

"You may look," he grants, clicking his tongue and gesturing with a curved finger. Obligingly, the skull drifts closer. "I would not bite you. But they can be temperamental, and there are no tech-priests here to perform advanced maintenance rituals. If you would like to view it from a different angle, you may direct it to move or rotate."

[stabgremlin]

"Strange how often that happens," Nine commented, looking vaguely curious, "In my own world, a Chiss is easily mistaken for a Pantoran too— two separate species having evolved to be similar in appearance and equally adapted to frigid temperatures."

He tilted his head then, "Of course the Pantorans are significantly more sociable than my own species given that the Chiss would much rather scramble back down into the ice that spawned us like hermits and pretend like nothing from outside our borders could ever be a threat."

He gave a vague dismissive gesture with a hand, "The Empire I speak of is very much a majority human one. I'm just fortunate enough to be a member of the one alien species they decided to ally with rather than the alternatives."

Nine was still amazed that some of their diplomats had managed to talk the Sith into that one. Not that it seemed to have changed the stance on isolationism.

With permission he moved closer to the servo-skull— though rather than direct it to move or rotate he himself circled to get a good look. It really was fascinating. The only thing he could think of as being similar were the abominations the Sith sometimes made but those were a whole lot less obedient and more likely to bite anyone who got too close. And they weren't tech either. If they could make something like this and have it actually obey he imagined that Imperial aesthetics would take another turn for the more macabre.

"Are these tech-priests the only ones capable of it?" He asked, lifting his gaze from the skull and to the man instead, "We don't have those where I'm from which is why I'm asking."

[guilliman]

"There are heretek observations of similarities in the design of sapients through out the galaxy. I am certain I could ask my consultant Archmagos, and he would tell me more than I would ever wish to know." That statement, too, is dry humour. He would absorb every bit of it like a dry sponge. But baselines seem to not like the idea of getting too much information at once??

"They are courageous to openly ally with any xenos at all. They have not had the experiences that my own Imperium has had, I must assume." The weight of dozens of millennia of history sit behind those words.

"Debatable," he grants, as 1L-0N4 hovers steadily in place. Every part of the device is old, incomprehensibly old. While the circuitry is well-maintained, the bone and the decorations bear centuries of polished, oiled patina. How old is this one device? How old is this technology...?

"The Adeptus Mechanicus guard their knowledge jealously. Without initiation into their brotherhood, or discovery of an STC, one would need to begin from first principles to understand the knowledge they preserve. At least --" Oh, he has to take a second to think, "two dozen millennia, perhaps. The earlier records are uncertain, naturally."