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Brief note on the new job

Submitted by Christopher Wright on

So I started my new job on Monday. It's fine, but it comes with a few challenges. The biggest is that it's in Georgia and I'm in Montgomery, AL. So I've switched up from working out of a home office to commuting to work every day.

Here's the math for that:

Work starts at eight, it's an hour and a half drive, add an extra half hour for getting lost (like I did this morning). So: leave the house at six. So: get up at five.


Echoes and Consequences: Part Five

Submitted by Christopher Wright on
Elsewhere, Again

Only a tiny sliver of light remains in the sky—the last vestige of sun seeping in through a tiny crack at the very edge of the horizon—and the shadow cast across David’s dreamscape is so deep it almost has weight. Something is pressing down, all around him, and he’s sure it’s more than the wind.

David tries once again to change the nature of the dream. He stares up at the ever-darkening sky, then holds out his hand, palm up, trying to imagine a tiny ball of light.

Such a small thing. Such a simple, small thing. I should be able to do this.


Echoes and Consequences: Part Four

Submitted by Christopher Wright on
Haruspex Analytics, Top Floor

The board room is designed to be subtly unsettling. It’s large and windowless, it appears to be circular, with a long table running up the middle of the room. Appearances are deceiving: it’s actually a slight oval, and the table is set slightly off kilter from the oval. People who don’t know the trick feel ever-increasing levels of anxiety as they subconsciously realize something is off but can’t identify what. Jason figured out the trick, so the room doesn’t put him off the way it did, once.

The Chairman, however… that’s a different story altogether.

The Chairman sits at the far end of the table, his features concealed in darkness. He stares down at a mission brief—Jason’s—and reads in silence. Jason stands at the other end of the table, not daring to sit, and waits patiently for him to finish.

As always, Jason finds himself trying to catch a glimpse of the older man’s face. As always, he fails. All he sees beyond the thick head of silver hair styled in a classic executive haircut is one furrow at the top of the man’s forehead, and then his face is cloaked in shadow. Jason wonders yet again at how the lighting in the room is arranged in order to achieve that effect. There are no obvious customizations to the room lighting that he can see.

Maybe it’s not the room. Maybe it’s him.

Echoes and Consequences: Part Three

Submitted by Christopher Wright on
Thorpe Island, Recovery Room

David Bernard lies in a recovery room in the medical facility on Robert Thorpe’s private floating island. This means, among other things, that he is currently hooked up to some of the most sophisticated diagnostics and monitoring equipment the world has never seen—so advanced that the phrase hooked up to is inaccurate, because the sensors that monitor his vital signs don’t require human contact to function. The only equipment physically attached to the man is an IV bag. Everything else is remote.

Artemis LaFleur sits in a padded chair next to Bernard, staring at a monitor, frowning deeply. He has the utmost faith in Dr. Thorpe’s equipment—it far surpasses anything he could have designed—but the readings don’t make any sense.

Echoes and Consequences: Part Two

Submitted by Christopher Wright on
Thorpe Island, Robert Thorpe's Office

Robert Thorpe sits alone in his office, studying the information scrolling past his screen. Digital forensic teams have been going through all the data collected from the underground facility in Farraday City, and they've been forwarding him the most interesting bits all day.

And they are interesting. But they're not coherent—not yet. At the moment Robert's juggling, keeping each piece of information in the air until he can find the pattern that makes it fit. Very little fits at the moment, which is to be expected. They're working with incomplete data.

He rubs his eyes and leans back in his chair, reaching for the ceramic mug sitting on the edge of his desk. It's still warm enough to be tolerable, so he drinks, occasionally rubbing the bridge of his nose with his left hand.


“Yes, Robert.” The computer with the voice of his dead friend replies promptly.

“How are our guests?”

“Agents Grant, Hu, and Travers are comfortably settled in their quarters. Agent Grant is also exploring this facility. He is also walking along North Beach, throwing rocks into the water. He's also drinking at Donovan's Pub and Kitchen.”

Robert smiles slightly.