Ezil was next to me, looking serious. She immediately started grilling me about the thoughts I’d had. I reassured her that I had not thought about anything compromising. « It’s bad, it’s very bad. The Tecô-Deli-Kpter agents now have the proof that you work with us. That’s going to complicate things. We must act quickly. We must find Yannos. » While we went looking for our man, Ezil spoke to me about Orthogonia. « The orthogonic practice links technology and magic. In reality, more that an esoteric practice, Orthogonia calls on the powers of the imagination. Technology acts on our bodies, and the imaginary articulates and directs the operation. Orthogonic techno-magic (or turquoise magic) makes incredible images appear to the practician and patient, their own images. Orthogonia heals the body and mind. It permits the extraction of harmful technologies that can’t be removed without a struggle. It’s one of the more innovative tools invented for healing, and for against the attacks of Tecô-Regi-Ster. Faced with a world in which rationality is king, we needed to find a fighting tactic that came from the forces of the unconscious. » I found this fascinating. Ezil continued: « It’s difficult for me to explain to you how we connect the mind and technology. The process is difficult even for me to grasp. Nevertheless, you were able to experience it: it works like a dream. But one must be cautious. Overly frequent use of Orthogonia makes the mind become scattered, and sends it into pure, labrynth-like insanity. That’s what happened to Harris. After Diane’s disappearance, he immersed his whole self in the turquoise magic. He’s never been the same. This is why it’s imperative to use it sparingly. » Given the power of my first orthogonic experience, I had no problem understanding how it could be possible to lose oneself to its overuse.
In no time Yannos appeared. Ezil tapped him on his shoulder: « Yannos, ittise taï metosh how Aksel de goale ophe hismiss zion. » Yannos asked me to put an athracite tube to my ear, and to link it up to my mouth. « We have to be very careful. The Gulpers and lasers are operational, but discretion is important. Basically, we’re asking two things of you: The first consists of creating an avatar for us, so we can discretely connect ourselves to Key-Deli-Ô-Scope. The goal is to contact potential new recruits. We’re getting weak: many of us are sick, or malnourished. Our organization is dying. The safeverseen movement must go on, and that’s why we must form a relief, and quickly. We can log on to Key-Deli-Ô-Scope and project ourselves onto reflective surfaces (glass, water, etc). That’s how we contacted you. But we need an avatar for that. The one we have is in bad definition, and its humanoid form scares more than it inspires sympathy. We need you to concoct an attractive avatar, one that represents us. Then, we need you to go deep into the heart of the Scrutatorium, in order to find important information on the transnational extropian governance. All data on Tecô-Regi-Ster is of interest to us. Do you feel capable to complete such a mission? » I responded that I did, even though I felt tense. To go into the Scrutatorium… it sent shivers up my spine. Yannos explained how to invisibly log on to Ô’Key. He gave me two gloves, which replaced the daily-S, as well as a visio-helmet, in order to see into the Ô’Key. After a few manipulations, I found myself on the immersive platform of the Key-Deli-Ô-Scope: I instantly recognized its electric blue sky and fluorescent orange sun. I decided to go to the zone of free creation, within which I could discretely model the avatar. Nervously, I arrived in the zone. With a gesture, I generated a canary yellow hut, which shook all around me. I started sculpting the elastic matter of the Ô’Key. When I had finished, I was happy with myself: the avatar was a feminine figure, with square-cut blue hair and bangs. It was dressed in a short, azure blue dress. I disconnected myself from Key-Deli-Ô-Scope and asked Yannos what he thought. He smiled and thanked me.
The most crucial task remained: enter the Scrutatorium. You see, the Scrutatorium is what collects all the raw information from the Key-Deli-Ô-Scope, as well as the Ô-Profiles and other data that we, Key-Secure-Ô-Log, put together. It’s a highly surveilled zone, in which only people in possession of a pass may enter. The Key-Secure-Ô-Log at the bottom of the hierarchy, as I was, can only access information via programs that select for us what we need. I was far from feeling confident. If the Key-Secure-Ô-Log caught me, I would risk a life sentence in prison, or, what do I know, maybe also blackmail and torture. I took a deep breath and logged on. I entered the Alveolar Nest. I got goosebumps just from the sight of this clot of gray alveoli, inside which the Key-Secure-Ô-Log worked. When I found myself before the portal of the Scrutatorium, an immense, organic, glowing red tower, I had a moment of indecision. Then I advanced. I passed the portal with no problem, and found myself projected into a zero gravity space. I floated in the burgandy ether, as though I had entered into a giant, monstrous body.
The walls of the Scrutatorium were made of countless tiny, organic pockets. One just had to say out loud a password for the corresponding pockets to open up and liberate their content. I got going. First keyword: « transnational extropian governance. » No results. « Key-Deli-Ô-Scope and surveillance. » Five pockets turned red and opened up. I didn’t dare consult them, as I had a bad feeling of being watched. I had the terrifying sensation of having an eye behind my head, looking me up and down, analyzing every one of my movements. My experience with the probe had scarred me. It was as though my very thoughts could at any moment be entered into by the power of the Scrutatorium. I felt like a flux of vampiric power was closing down around my heart and pumping, pumping, until I was emptied out. Seized with anxiety, I grabbed one of the fibers from the pockets and began to pull it out. It wasn’t like reading, it was something else, as though the very sense held within the fiber was starting to take form in my mind.