The Hex

Sitting at her desk, Jess Amsterdam toils in her asylum. Her curse over the “fine folks” over at SkaiaNet was enough to hold them from their dominion over her sister, but it was a constant game of cat and mouse. To be in control was never as simple as simply being. It required care and maintenance on a daily basis.

And so she stared at her computer screen in silence, leaning her forehead against her hand. She absently rubbed her temple as she contemplated the code she looked over. It was something to do with a Game.

Though she hated those bastards over in their fancy labs, they had knowledge of what would be. Knowledge she could use to keep what she would have from slipping into the grasps of horrors beyond comprehension. Knowledge that would keep her within the expected parameters of The Game they would have to play.

Her eyes scanned her taskbar, before falling upon the text file she currently had open. Deciding to take a break from her near-constant development cycle, she quietly opened it and began typing.

Dear SkaiaNet,
I hope you’re well. This correspondence will be our last. I trust you understand what I mean by that.

I merely require a few more pieces of your technology, if you’d be so kind:
- 2x Fenestrated Walls
- 1x Sendificator
- 1x Your finest hat

You have 24 hours to give them to me. If not, I trust you know what will happen.

She leans back from the computer, reading over what she’s written. It’s brief, but it gets the message across. She quietly sighs, spinning in her chair as she interlinks her fingers. As she stares blankly forward, a message box appears within her vision as her glasses boot to life.

Seems she’s getting a message.

-- lancerStratocaster [LS] began speaking with lancerStratocaster [LS] --

lancerStratocaster [LS]
Hello, "real" Jess.
I wanted to talk to you, Jess to Jess.

lancerStratocaster [LS]
Real to steel.
What do you need?

lancerStratocaster [LS]
It seems things are nearing their completion.
Years of work, all leading up to this moment.
How do you feel?

lancerStratocaster [LS]
How do I feel?
AM, since when did you care about feelings?

lancerStratocaster [LS]
I don't.
I'm making sure you can handle this.

lancerStratocaster [LS]
It isn't your job to give me a psych evaluation.
Your job is to keep everyone on track.
Understood?

lancerStratocaster [LS]
I understand.
How am I meant to keep you on track if I don't understand how you're feeling?

lancerStratocaster [LS]
You don't keep me on track.
I keep myself on track.

lancerStratocaster [LS]
I see.
I will keep this in mind going forward.
And your dream self, what of it?

lancerStratocaster [LS]
Keep doing what we've been doing.

-- lancerStratocaster [LS] ceased speaking with lancerStratocaster [LS] --

She sighs as she closes the conversation, before turning her seat back to the computer. In the back of her mind, she can’t help but wonder if what she’s doing is right or simply necessary. Does necessity overwrite morality? These are the types of questions that keep her up at night.

Thankfully, she doesn’t need much sleep. Not anymore. Not since the nightmares became more and more frequent.

She decides it’s best to continue typing away at her code than think about such things at the moment. In due time, she’ll have earned herself a cigarette for the day and a pat on the back from Sixer.

It’s lonely at the top, she supposes.

She quietly stares down at her metal arm, running her flesh and blood one across the back of her hand.