Hob wandered aimlessly for some time about the hallways of the [i]Copernicus[/i], pausing only long enough to defy regulations one more time by turning off his handheld. He was in deep enough of a funk that talking to anyone was a bad idea. There was a faint regret at going off on Dr. Brock, the man wasn't a bad guy by any means. Only there had been too many authority figures all at once for the NI-tech to cope with, too many people who had control over his body and life regardless of any protests he might have had. Less than a day out of stasis and all of the anger at his situation had come bubbling back. It was just as fresh as when Hob had been frozen, along with the added zest of six years worth of nightmares sprinkled on top like sprinkles on a cupcake. Back on earth, Hob had not been overly anti-authoritarian. Now? He grimly pondered how far he might go if they pushed too much. Open airlocks in select areas? Back the plumbing up? Nothing horrible or devastating but a definite show of force that would... that would...

... that would simply be more detrimental in the long run. Hob's heart felt heavy in his chest as his mind chewed over the inevitable outcome once more. It was hardly as if this had been the first time such thoughts had come to mind. An act of rebellion such as he was pondering would only make things worse for the remaining NI-techs, not to mention for himself if and when they finally yanked him out of the system! Command had to be certainly aware of what damage a rouge NI-tech could do and no doubt had back-ups plans and emergency procedures in place already, and it was probably why they spent a great deal of time keeping the dis-satisfied human interfaces repressed. The only way for them to keep control of the techs, Hob suspected, was either to keep them beaten down and suppressed or to pamper them. In a ship where luxuries were limited, the former option seemed to have been the one preferred. After all, there was a great shortage of carrots. The military, on the other hand, had a fair share of sticks and the knowledge and will to use them.

The only possible way Hob could see any protest succeeding would be if [i]all[/i] the NI-techs took a stand at once, occupying all of the NI-tubes that they could with the others guarding them. Unified, Command would have to bend! What choice would they have?! And that, Hob felt, was the real reason that Harris and everyone in the chain above her kept the NI-techs separated. Bringing them out all at once would solve a great many manpower problems! They could put a forth person in on each shift or, better still, have rotating schedules and shifts that allowed for crossover! Then the NI-techs wouldn't have to be logged in for more than four hours at a time as Psyche was now requiring, and the they could get a decent amount of time for sleep! Hob could see it in his mind so clearly! Fours in, four hours out to deal with various medical exams and follow-ups and debriefings, four hours in again, and then twelve hours downtime! But thawing out all of the available techs would be too dangerous from the military's point of view. The threat of the abused (and basically enslaved) human processors rising up was too great. 

Feeling defeated, Hob approached the door to his NI-chamber. No doubt his handlers were already inside, preparing everything for his arrival. After staring at the door for several moments, the disaffected artist moved to the side and slide down to sit with his back against the wall. He wasn't all that sure he could bring himself to report for duty. Closing his eyes, he rested his elbows on his knees and let out a long slow breath.

What no one seemed to understand, he mused, was that as humiliating as being stripped down and wired up to be inserted like a spark plug, it was being taken out of the system that truly hurt. Who would ever willingly want to be yanked out of Heaven and tossed back into Hell even once, not to mention over and over and over again? In the end, that was the hardest part to deal with.