FUNCTION-L₃ #25

“Sounds like a good way for the corpo to cut the artist out of the equation entirely,” you sign.

“I guess artists had to create something a machine can’t easily replicate to compete,” Akiko signs.

“Yeah, that’s always been the idea. But if it’s too weird most people won’t touch it, you end up with maybe a small devoted fanbase,”

“Doesn’t sound so bad. I wouldn’t know, I have more the mind of a scientist.”

“You’re pretty artistic too though! Like your æthergarden, or your avatar and your technopathy, it’s all very you,” you sign.

“All technopaths express themselves somehow. But you Aydan, you seem more like the artist type to me,” she signs.

“Maybe, but it’s not like I have the option.”

You reach the end of the entrance hallway, finding two huge glass doors, one fallen from its hinges and shattered long ago, and one still barely hanging on. Beyond them, a huge room opens up, covered in dust and half-gathered debris, from what little you can see.

“Can you find a switch for the lights? If any still work,” you sign.

You see red rings light up around her green eyes as she scans the room in infrared. She walks to a far wall and finds a panel holding a large switch. She pulls it back up---a loud click precedes the buzzing of unmaintained infrastructure, and a second later, a few lights flicker on---green, purple, you almost feel like you’re back on Translunar Academy.

You can make out more of the room now. A massive platform dominates the far end, the stage, flanked by towering speaker cabinets, abandoned. You wonder if any of it still functions. Navigating your way over the debris, you find the stairs leading up to the side of the stage. Akiko follows, looking around and feeling the old dusty railings.

It doesn’t seem like the sort of stage designed for humanoid performers, with little space to move around in between all the fixtures in place and the massive bundles of rubber cables running between them all. Displays the size of walls line the edges, some flickering with static noise, some completely dead. Other machines form a perimeter in front of the screens---arrays of stage lights, possibly fog machines.

“Wish I had that built-in theremin now, I’d love to plug into this system!” you sign. “Probably strong enough bass output I could play for you too.”

“I bet you could make the room shake from floor to ceiling with speakers like this, that could be stimmy,” Akiko signs. “You can also feel a theremin in the near-æther.”

“You’re right, I should play for you sometimes! I once won a musical duel with an exopath copy of one of my favorite artists, you know...”

You reach the center of the stage, where the biggest machine of all sits--some kind of projector, but underneath, definitely a sort of 22nd century computer. You find a panel that opens up to a display, with a keyboard and a few ports.

“Here we go,” you sign. “If anything here still works, we can control it from here.”

“Let’s check it out,” she signs.

You look around and find a switch, and the screen lights up with a simple prompt:

Power interrupted. Safe mode engaged. Reinitialize 愛ＤＯＬＬ２１５５ system?

>_