The first human to scientifically study the [Systems] was called Tamara Wilkes.
Her first paper was published exactly six months after the descent of the angels, during a period where mankind was still lost in the bowels of panicked revolutions and revelations alike. As you might expect, mankind had rushed in to dismantle and rebuild the things called [Systems] that now were part of mankind's essence — but the descent of the supernatural came with its own difficulties, and it was fact that the world's scholars, who consisted of perhaps 0.1 of the world's population at the time — Therefore, this great breakthrough that now laid within one's reach was laid aside.
That's context — And here's fact. Tamara's paper arrived without as much of a warning, from a woman who by any other measure was a rookie at best, and at the peak of a sloped buildup of political tensions between the superpowers of the time: China, Russia, the United States, India and the collective of the European Union. Needless to say, it changed everything.
Absolutely everything. Case and point — none of those superpowers remained active today, except maybe the European Union in a fashion. The political landscape was at the mercy of the veins of power described by Wilkes and her ilk.
And in some cases, so was the physical, geographical landscape.
What had become of Russia during the last war of the 2000s political landscape, on the advent of 2100, was a horror story told to this very day. Moscow was rumoured to still be unlovable, and Washington DC was very close to that.
The chaos that was spurned by her discoveries was no more her fault than the advent of nuclear warfare had been Albert Einstein's. Despite that, Tamara Wilkes, a nameless 22-year old scientist from the depths of South Africa, was sometimes hailed as the mother of modern civilization — for she, and her works on the nature of power, made changes to the very earth around man's feet.
Tamara's paper — which had consisted of over 600 pages — had ended, of all things, on a quote.
"Power resides only where men believe it resides. A shadow on the wall, yet shadows can kill. And oftentimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow."
A quote repeated softly by the man known as Halt — uttered with such unabashed, intense reverence that it was unbefitting of his station. Beyond their eyes, on the large circular room where every corridor led to and from, was a statue of Wilkes herself… or at least a very romanticised vision of her, with delicate features of undeniable beauty sculpted into her form and flames of magic dancing on her hand and bending to her will. Beneath her feet, a plaque — Quoting the very phrase she had closed her studies on.
Carter had, in fact, heard it before. Though the bound were mostly used for labour, they were educated to an extent — as in, material was provided to the mines on uneven intervals, for the interested to study. Most weren't — which he got. It was hard to spare the energy. But for him, it had been something of an escape — knowledge as a means of escapism, I'm sure you've heard it all before.
"Tell me, boy." Halt continued in something of a soft tone. "What do you think power is?"
— Carter paused.
That was an odd question, and one he wasn't sure exactly how to answer. Rather — there were many definitions to the word, and Halt was an unknown factor Carter was unwilling to threaten or displease.
After all — somehow, this man knew things he shouldn't.
But it did make him think.
Power —
"It would be… the strength to defeat your enemies, right?"
A snort.
"So close. Your answer is already better than most — but no. Not quite."
"Then what is it?"
The man turned a fanged grin his way, eyes narrowing slightly. It might have been the lighting, but Carter was sure he had caught something of a purple tint to it — then it was gone, poof, and he was left with the strangest feeling of foreboding.
"Now, that would be telling." A pause. "Come. I brought you here for a reason."
Yes, Carter agreed, he certainly did. But whatever that was, it absolutely wasn't this little job Halt wanted him to complete. No, the man was after something else — perhaps something a little more subtle. All the while, his earlier words echoed in his mind; "Within my city."
Yet, the man looked nothing like the Founder. Mysteries, mysteries.
Conscious of the threat he was in, Carter followed from a few feet as the man led him into the rightmost corridor, opposite the one they'd come in from. It was an exact mirror of the first, though the door on the end has a small red cross on it instead of being another elevator. His broken ribs were made painfully obvious to him, and he diverted a look towards the man.
"Go," he said. "Just lay on the white tube will treat your injuries. Take the time to deal with your Level Up, too. I'll wait here."
He didn't need to hear it said twice, though the way the man spoke of things that should be secrets like he was talking about the weather irked him somewhat. The man was a threat, clear and simple, and Carter needed to figure out a way to deal with him one way or the other, because acting all subservient was simply not in the cards for him.
For now, however, he wandered into the medbay — a surprisingly simple place, all things considered. It was kept neat and tidy, with the floor made of marble and the walls of the same metal as the corridor ones. There were huge cabinets on each wall, with assortments of diverse and colorful liquids in them, and 13 odd metallic tubes dotted the floor symmetrically, with open glass panes and cushioned backs.
— He wondered for a moment if it was safe. Then,
"At the state I'm in, he might as well just shoot me if he wants me killed."
He laid on the tube, and wasn't quite surprised to see the glass closing after he did. What did, however, surprise him was the odd green liquid that instantly flowed in from small holes in the tube. Panic briefly rushed through his veins as the water neared and then enveloped his head —
But he didn't drown.
Carter breathed the odd liquid in. It was, well, breathable.
What was this, a Bacta Tank? Should he start worrying about having his hand chopped off by a long-lost father or something?
[ Phoenix Water Detected. ]
[ Carter: 45 / 250 ]
[ Carter: 46 / 250 ]
[ Carter: 47 / 250 ]
And so it went.
It was a soothing feeling, though his aches were still there. The healing felt… pleasurably cool, like a breeze during a hot summer day. Phoenix Water… whatever that meant, it was really cool.
"Menu," he said. Or, well, tried to. He was still immersed in a liquid, so what came out was more like "Blrghrhd".
It worked, though, so who cares?