[b]An Outer District of Babylon - Clear Point Clinic[/b] ---- Ayah found peace in the darkness. The stillness of water encapsulated her entire being, entrapping her senses within a pool of crystalline silence. Long days of rigorous fieldwork. Long nights of lab tests and analyzing data. The morsels of freedom her hectic schedule spared were spent rejuvenating mind and body. Things like high-end robotic Cespora chambers that deep tissue massage over-stressed muscles, or revitalizing meteor rock-heated body spas, and Zero-G Yoga. Such luxuries were never taken for granted during these grace periods, for they so desperately contributed toward her sanity's upkeep. The Doctor’s recent muse currently has her suspended within a retrofitted cryo-pod. Its engineered cooling fluids contain slight hallucinogenic properties, and ambiance is maintained with a virtual reality HUD. Ayah didn’t care for the VR HUD. Instead, she requested that her pod be in a private room with little-to-no lighting, and that a noise-cancelling sealant be applied to the pod door. Within the confines of this peace chamber, patented simply as the “Life Pod” from Clear Point Industries, Ayah felt an overwhelming amount of calm. It felt as though she were lucid dreaming, though no matter the state of her psychological temperance, would always remain in a visage of tranquility. For a human with cognitive augmentation that is constantly overworking the brain's processors, the ability to clear your mind and focus solely on the state of simply being… was a godsend. No partitioning between problem solving dozens of tasks, while analyzing the complexities of dozens more -- all while examining patients and/or attending board meetings via neural HUD implant, as she physically coordinates EIS teams to survey hazardous environments. No, within this Life Pod exists none of the sort. It’s as if her brain becomes a squished sponge that drains out all of the unwanted thoughts, leaving her with the ones long forgotten. Ambitions. Dreams. Love. Memories. For but a moment in time, she remembers what it was like to be human again. Within the confines of this Life Pod, she can be vulnerable. Exposed. However, like all good things, such sensations of freedom are but momentary lapses within the chaos that is her life. A mechanical chirping noise slowly reverberated into Ayah’s skull, thrusting her into consciousness. Within seconds, the silk-like gelatinous fluid drained out into the large pipes that veined into the ceiling. Her eyelids slowly lifted, revealing azure sea stones that quickly shifted into irritated ocean tides. She brought up a finger to press “Open” on the pod window’s touch screen. The sound of crackling sealant followed the vibrating hum of the pod door's hydraulics as it unlocked and slid open. As she exited the chamber, a momentary state of drowsiness passed through her. [i]Whoever the hell is trying to contact me better have a damn good reason.[/I] She grabbed the lavender robe laid out on a small table next to the pod and draped it around her. With a concentrated wink, a HUD appeared in her left retina. [b][center]--Incoming Call: ID: 144143AI09 Dr. Grathias Matronillo--[/center][/b] She clenched her teeth as she read the name of her overseeing supervisor. He was recently assigned to her division just last week, straight from BESC operations. He was a boy scout who played everything by the book. Never been out on the field. Never seen what an evolved nano-virus from a defunct Mind could do to flesh and bone. And worst of all, had no decency for protocol, especially when his subordinates were off the clock and on some much needed R and R. [center][b]--Accept?--[/b][/center] She winked 'Accept' with an agitated frown. “Sir, with all due respect, I was granted a ‘no-contact’ grace period for a reason. You should already know by-“ The lecture she planned on giving Dr. Mantronillo about the importance of her off-time was hastily cut off. “We’ve got a problem!” Grathias blurted out. Ayah sensed the panic in his voice. “What is it, sir?” She immediately rushed over to the other side of the room and fetched all of her belongings from a touch sensitive locker unit. “The contaminated cargo carrying the G-II virus in that wrecked sand-ship we surveyed... It, it was en-route for pick up, but it never reached our Laboratory. We tried calling the transfer team but we didn’t get a response back.” Ayah’s quickened pace to get dress slowed to a momentary halt. “What!?” She yelled in disbelief. It was as if her brain had glitched before suddenly kicking back into full gear. “W, we’re assuming the transfer unit got ambushed by pirates. Got ahold of the cargo. Shit, Ayah. If people get exposed to that…” G-II, or Golathius Strain, is a terrible flesh-eating virus mutated from the dead carcasses of sand worms. Dr. Ayah was the EIS officer that personally coordinated the sterilization of the sand-ship that contained the G-II, seven hours ago. “I shouldn’t have handed the operation over to you. I should’ve known that this would be the more plausible outcome with you left in charge…” Ayah’s tone grew more aggressive, but it still retained its cold indifference. “Now wait just a minute-“ “Do be quiet, Mantronillo. Leave rational thought and logical reasoning to those who are far more capable. File your report to your BESC superiors while I clean up the defecation of your incompetence.” A forceful wink severed communications with her supervisor. In the time spent conversing with Mantronillo, she had dressed herself fully into a form-fitting EIS enviro-suit, messaged her bodyguards Lucy and Edgar to pick her up at the rooftop of the clinic, and dispatched a neural link to her hazmat squad and EIS security teams to rendezvous toward the sand-ship’s last pinged GPS coordinates. She shot a glare at the Life Pod and nodded disapprovingly. “Should have never stepped into the bloody thing...”