person approached, one hand extended.
"Welcome. It's good to see pure humans in our cathedral."
A woman, judging by the timbre of her voice and the way she walked. Ignoring Morgan, she approached Ravindra and Prasad, who exchanged a look.
"You have need of these." She pointed at the goggles. "Which means you do not have one of these." She pointed her index finger at the place just behind her left ear, where an implant would have been.
"You don't have one, either?" Prasad asked.
She curled her lip. "It is an abomination, an insult to the Creator."
Morgan rolled her eyes. She despised religion. Who needed a creator when you had Nature? Besides, who created the creator? Where did it end?
A contemptuous smile creased the woman's features. "You mock. You think we cannot survive without these…" she waved her finger at her head again…"things?"
"You use technology, don't you?" Morgan said. "Do you despise that, too?" She pointed a finger at the lens. "Like the solar generator that powers your lovely light show? Or the door guard that collects your credits and dispenses the goggles? Or the systems that create your audio-visual displays? Do you think they're any different to the chip in my head?" And you don't even know about the implant in my brain. Stupid, ignorant… Let it go, Morgan. Old wounds, long forgotten .
The woman straightened, a picture of dignified affront. "I thought perhaps you sought sanctuary. It seems I was mistaken. Enjoy your visit." She bowed, and turned.
Prasad directed a glare at Morgan. "Don't go," he said to the woman. "We are visitors from another planet. May I ask, did you perhaps think we were Solvarian?"
The woman paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. A ripple of emotions crossed her features; surprise, recognition, doubt, and coming to rest as calm. But she couldn't hide the thundering of her heart from Morgan's enhanced senses.
"Are you Solvarian?"
"No. We come from Coromandel. But we've seen evidence of the problems caused here by Solvarian immigrants."
Facing them again, the woman folded her hands together. "Not by them, by the haters who do not understand that the cranial implant is just another means of control, a subtler manifestation of the scourge of machines."
"Like the war machines?" Ravindra pointed at a mural on the wall between the curved pillars, where a human-shaped metal monster as big as a multi-story building, strode across shattered armored vehicles and human bodies, toward a defiant gun emplacement defended by dour-faced soldiers.
The woman paced over to the wall and tilted her head to look up at the display. "This is what we escaped from at great cost. I fear we have replaced this monster with a more insidious means of machine control."
Ravindra's gaze traveled over the mural, an eyebrow slightly raised. "You believe the war machines looked like that?"
"I don't know. Neither does anyone else. But it hardly matters. It is a metaphor, a war machine made in our likeness. Now, we can do much more."
Ravindra stopped gazing at the mural, and turned his attention to the woman, his eyebrows lowered. "What do you mean by that?"
"These chips in heads can be controlled. They are made by special humans who carry special implants in their heads. Imagine what they could do with such power? They are dangerous; much more dangerous than this thing." She waved a hand at the mural.
"You mean the people they call Supertechs?" Ravindra said, taking Morgan's arm, and squeezing hard enough to hurt. "But I thought they were designed to stop machines from taking control?"
"I don't know what they're called. But I fear them, a cross between a human and a machine. We're traveling the same path as the last time, before the Conflagration."
Morgan bit her tongue. Stupid bitch. Supertechs were controlled. They did nothing without direction. Except her. Ravindra's grip slackened. He'd made his point.
"Ah. That's one reason we've come here," Prasad said. "I'm a scholar. We've been
"Welcome. It's good to see pure humans in our cathedral."
A woman, judging by the timbre of her voice and the way she walked. Ignoring Morgan, she approached Ravindra and Prasad, who exchanged a look.
"You have need of these." She pointed at the goggles. "Which means you do not have one of these." She pointed her index finger at the place just behind her left ear, where an implant would have been.
"You don't have one, either?" Prasad asked.
She curled her lip. "It is an abomination, an insult to the Creator."
Morgan rolled her eyes. She despised religion. Who needed a creator when you had Nature? Besides, who created the creator? Where did it end?
A contemptuous smile creased the woman's features. "You mock. You think we cannot survive without these…" she waved her finger at her head again…"things?"
"You use technology, don't you?" Morgan said. "Do you despise that, too?" She pointed a finger at the lens. "Like the solar generator that powers your lovely light show? Or the door guard that collects your credits and dispenses the goggles? Or the systems that create your audio-visual displays? Do you think they're any different to the chip in my head?" And you don't even know about the implant in my brain. Stupid, ignorant… Let it go, Morgan. Old wounds, long forgotten .
The woman straightened, a picture of dignified affront. "I thought perhaps you sought sanctuary. It seems I was mistaken. Enjoy your visit." She bowed, and turned.
Prasad directed a glare at Morgan. "Don't go," he said to the woman. "We are visitors from another planet. May I ask, did you perhaps think we were Solvarian?"
The woman paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. A ripple of emotions crossed her features; surprise, recognition, doubt, and coming to rest as calm. But she couldn't hide the thundering of her heart from Morgan's enhanced senses.
"Are you Solvarian?"
"No. We come from Coromandel. But we've seen evidence of the problems caused here by Solvarian immigrants."
Facing them again, the woman folded her hands together. "Not by them, by the haters who do not understand that the cranial implant is just another means of control, a subtler manifestation of the scourge of machines."
"Like the war machines?" Ravindra pointed at a mural on the wall between the curved pillars, where a human-shaped metal monster as big as a multi-story building, strode across shattered armored vehicles and human bodies, toward a defiant gun emplacement defended by dour-faced soldiers.
The woman paced over to the wall and tilted her head to look up at the display. "This is what we escaped from at great cost. I fear we have replaced this monster with a more insidious means of machine control."
Ravindra's gaze traveled over the mural, an eyebrow slightly raised. "You believe the war machines looked like that?"
"I don't know. Neither does anyone else. But it hardly matters. It is a metaphor, a war machine made in our likeness. Now, we can do much more."
Ravindra stopped gazing at the mural, and turned his attention to the woman, his eyebrows lowered. "What do you mean by that?"
"These chips in heads can be controlled. They are made by special humans who carry special implants in their heads. Imagine what they could do with such power? They are dangerous; much more dangerous than this thing." She waved a hand at the mural.
"You mean the people they call Supertechs?" Ravindra said, taking Morgan's arm, and squeezing hard enough to hurt. "But I thought they were designed to stop machines from taking control?"
"I don't know what they're called. But I fear them, a cross between a human and a machine. We're traveling the same path as the last time, before the Conflagration."
Morgan bit her tongue. Stupid bitch. Supertechs were controlled. They did nothing without direction. Except her. Ravindra's grip slackened. He'd made his point.
"Ah. That's one reason we've come here," Prasad said. "I'm a scholar. We've been
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