Fuzzwork
The inquest at the H4-RP4 facility. Kyonoke. That wasn’t a good time. I couldn’t not go, not when I received the invitation. If I hadn’t received one, I’d have kicked up whatever trouble I could, until I got one; But I have to admit, I was still terrified. I mean, I live in a bubble. My immune system isn’t the best, even against normal baseliner disease. And yes, I probably could have jumped out if I were infected, as long as it hadn’t progressed too far. Or reverted to a backup.
Backups aren’t something I like to talk about. Feels too much like dying. No “explode, then open my eyes elsewhere.” Knowing that another you went on, lived life, then died, before you you woke up, without any memories of that time. Thankfully, up to that point, I’d never had to use one. So yeah, terrified. But not quite enough to stop me going. I may not be the best Son of Matar out there but when my people are suffering and I have a chance to use what influence I have to help them, or at least stop it spreading to others, I didn’t really have a choice.
So with my backup up to date, and a clone body prepared, I set out. Preparations were fairly minimal. Embedded recording system. Best immune system I could get into it in the time I had. Features structured to gain some respect. A beard; greying of course, to simulate a patriarchal feel. A paunch, for prosperity, and to be less threatening. Tall, but not too tall. That kind of thing.
Other than a Cheetah, a fairly barebones crew on it, and a hold-out, that was me. Oh, and the research staff back home. I can’t provide the same resources as a State, but I’m not without some resources.
