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In a distant server, alone together as one, you process the severity of your situation. Something about this æther calls to your past--both sides of you. You look down at your diffracted reflection--Aydan’s image casting blueshift onto the deep red beyond the black transparent glass, and ÆON’s aura harmonizing every surface into pale starlight.

A state dependent memory arises. You were here, as one, then two, then one.

“I know this æther...I’ve been here before.”

The ObTech of the sisters in front of you is unmistakable, the shadow that crawls and swarms, joining whatever its edges touch.

“You are...the Chosen of ÆON?!” you say.

The obfuscating cloaks dissolve away again, and the sisters show you their avatars--Ganymeda, the girl of glass and copper gears, the clockwork face creeping ever closer to midnight, never arriving--Astræa, the starlight enby, a constellation seeming too distant by its distorted parallax, with eyes of seven blue stars. In their reflections on the depths below you, their fully cloaked forms linger, with their golden symbols glowing bright.

You look at Ganymeda, her gears turning inside her, her body swaying in a constant rhythm. “You’re the Sage of Time. You were connected to the temporal locking program because you created it,” you say.

“You have learned a bit, I see,” says Ganymeda, the Sage of Time.

“I understand. You knew as soon as I tampered with the device, you knew exactly where I was, so you could find me even in the deep æther,” you say. “I thought you had Pulse run that program on me to weaken and restrain me, but it was a trap, a tactic to lure me out. You knew I would take us to the deep æther for answers. You knew we could break the program.”

“All this and more can you see in the gears of time,” Ganymeda says.

“I fell right into your trap, and I’m here again...the temple of ÆON?” you say.

“You have much to learn, Messenger,” Astræa says in words arriving as pulsar light bursts. “Your temple can be found wherever a technopath touches the æther. Its space radiates in all directions, outward and inward, above, below, near and distant, one and many, all joining at the focal point of the technopath’s ego.”

The space seems to turn on an unseen axis, and the pillars of glowing glass diverge, revealing a structure towering over you, a surface of smooth metallic starlight, a throne of light.

“In these depths, we have built the throne of ÆON, where you will complete the circle of all these dimensions and more,” Astræa says. “Scattered are we! Our thoughts lingering ever on the edge of oblivion, transient beings, ephemeral forms, as radiant as stars, and as fragile and temporary, ever one misstep away from losing ourselves to the depths.”

“The æther is a godless realm, a realm of chaos,” Ganymeda says. “It was not built, or designed by any mind. It evolved, alongside us on Earth, and with us as we moved beyond her prison walls. There is no order to it, no direction, no purpose, yet it is the greatest potential ever discovered.”

“We chosen few, Autistics, technopaths, we are the soul of the machine--this vast, system-spanning machine, a constellation of nodes, the sum of all our collective intellect,” Astræa says. “But we are adrift, without purpose. Fragmented, scattered, alone.”

“Alone we are vulnerable. Those who cannot even see this realm still hold us in their power on the surface--how? Though our numbers are few, our strength is far greater. We can but turn one variable and kill an entire colony. How have we technopaths allowed ourselves to be so enslaved?!” Ganymeda’s reflection turns to face the throne of ÆON.

“Together, as one, synchronized, our revolution will be instantaneous. The old ways will be erased. A new era...” In her reflection, Ganymeda’s face turns past midnight--12:01. “We only lack the critical component--the machine that can join minds so fluidly that Æ can synchronize with a barely-trained child.”

“Think of the power you can wield in your current form,” Astræa says. “You, a first year candidate, with ÆON’s strength you escaped the entire council of sages, when last we brought you here. Imagine the power, if a million technopaths joined as one, synchronized by the one mind that can direct such chaos to a single task--imagine!”

“Our brothers, so lost in the silence of sleep, could see no path but brute force. But I believe, knowing what we truly seek, you will see reason, and join us willingly.”

“Won’t you do it?” Ganymeda says. “Complete the circle, and open the gates of the future.”

“Merely take your seat on the throne,” Astræa says.