August 12, 4021 12:37 [Lahab Mutajamid Desert]

The ancient machine kicked up plumes of sand as it ambled across the desert, taking one sluggish step after another. Tiny desert creatures skittered across the dunes to escape the path of the mechanical behemoth. Its black frame traced a path marked by poles erected in the sand, pacing towards the outline of a city in the distance.

“Move damn it!” Mirai exclaimed, pushing the peripheral control sticks forward.

He furrowed his brow, as sweat dripped down his neck. The young Lancer pilot struggled to maintain concentration, a vein bulging on his forehead from the strain. He groaned in frustration, pressing a series of contextual buttons. The digital display streaming feedback of his environment switched off as the control capsule partially ejected from the Lancer. A fissure of compressed air released as the capsule opened up, allowing Mirai to step outside. He removed a cord attached to his spine, sending a jolt of pain throughout his nervous system. I’ll never get used to that.

Sighing, he hooked a grappling cord from his waist to a railing, scaling the Lancer to reach the top of its head, promptly slumping over, exhausted. Sunlight bounced off his visor as he stared at the sky. The arid heat did nothing for his mood, though his DIVE Suit kept his temperature regulated. He pulled his helmet off, setting it to the side as he lay down panting. He lifted a flap on his wrist, checking his Nerve Cord. Shit. It was midday already. Mirai clicked his tongue as he sat up, his cape flapping lightly in the wind; it was split in two, shaped like the fins of a fish. The fabric was sewn with photovoltaic cells to catch the sunlight overhead and convert it into electricity.

A small drone popped out of a compartment on his shoulder, circling around him before floating higher to get a better vantage of the dunes. It scanned the perimeter, beeping noisily before zipping back down to him. A digital face appeared on its display, smiling enthusiastically.

“Hiya, Mr. Kitahara! Boy, it sure is hot today!”

Mirai rolled his eyes at the AI’s painfully upbeat attitude. It was quite obvious who programmed it.

“Aiko, contact Hart and tell him to pick me up.”

“No can do!” she said cheerily. “Mr. Hart’s instructions explicitly forbade any form of contact. You were to be dropped in the middle of the desert and make your way back with your assigned Lancer.”

“The city is right there!” Mirai pointed to the silhouette on the horizon. “It can’t be more than a few kilometers out now!”

“Correct! It is exactly [4.98897] kilometers away from our current location!”

Mirai put a hand to his face, resisting the urge to electrocute the little drone. It wouldn’t get rid of the AI, since it would simply transfer into his helmet, then into his Nerve Cord if he destroyed that as well. Groaning, he picked himself up, lifting his helmet off of the surface of the Lancer.

“What are my synchronization levels?” he asked.

“Thirty percent!” Aiko responded.

Mirai shook his head rappelling down the neck of the Lancer. He slid towards the Pilot’s Capsule embedded in the nape of its neck. Hanging just outside the capsule’s opening, he stared down at the white rings on the machine’s back. He would need to increase his synchronization rate to unlock this mechanical giant’s secrets. Hart was of no help, shrugging when he had asked him for guidance. Mirai had a suspicion he was intentionally withholding information. But what was the point? What good would it do him to hide critical information like this? He scowled, docking the capsule once again. Mirai switched on the display, placing his helmet over his head once again. He reattached the cord to his spine, grimacing as another jolt of pain ran through his body. He would have to brute force this advanced fossil to make his way back to Khar Khot. He strained his mind, pushing the peripheral control sticks forward. The machine lifted a leg forward and set it down heavily, dispersing a cloud of sand. One foot at a time. I’ll make it there…eventually.

***

Night fell by the time Mirai reached the city with False//Frame in tow. He docked the Lancer, collapsing onto the adjacent platform deck the moment he stepped foot outside the Pilot’s Capsule. Panting, he dragged himself over to the railing, leaning against it as a set of clanging footsteps became louder. The footsteps stopped; a pair of red boots appeared in the view of Mirai’s downward gaze.

“You took your time.”

Mirai winced, lifting his head up to meet the senior pilot’s gaze. Hart wore a regal red DIVE Suit; it was a mix of crimson armor and dark suit attire. The Hyena had an overcoat attached to his collar, wearing it unsleeved so it would hang freely behind him. He extended a hand, helping Mirai stand upright.

“I made it, didn’t I?” Mirai grit his teeth.

“That you did,” Hart agreed. “Aiko?”

“Yes, Mr. Hart?” Aiko zipped out of Mirai’s shoulder compartment.

“Send me the analytics for today’s trial run, and run another diagnostic for optimization.”

“Aye aye!” the AI exclaimed, flying back into the compartment.

Hart checked his Nerve Cord, holding Mirai steady. “Thirty, huh? Realistically, we need you at around seventy to eighty percent before we deploy, so your progress is pretty solid so far. I have to warn you, synchronization will get exponentially harder to maintain at higher levels, and you’ll be asked to do more complicated tasks as the weeks progress.

Mirai nodded slowly, leaning heavily on him. “How are the others doing?”

Hart recollected for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anari’s doing poorly. She’s too timid and rigid. Fifteen percent won’t cut it. Especially, from a Hyena. I’ll work her to the bone if I have to,” he scowled. “Kefka and Dot are doing well, however. Both are sitting at sixty percent in just a few days. Kefka is quick on the uptake but when it comes to technology, Dot is unmatched. I doubt even the Chait family could match his technological prowess.”

Mirai sensed a hint of envy in his words. “Chait?”

“They’re a family of tailors, inventors, designers; old money.”

Mirai eyed his overcoat, adorned with badges and medallions. “And which family are you from?”

Hart stared out into the desert, grabbing a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

“You smoke?” he asked, shaking the pack.

Mirai shook his head.

“Suit yourself,” Hart shrugged, lighting the butt.

The stars were out tonight. A small cloud of smoke blocked Mirai’s view momentarily as Hart exhaled, tapping the ash. He watched as it fell to the ground, the bright hue suddenly fizzling out.

“It’s a shame. Everything is so finite. The everlasting is merely wishful thinking, isn’t it?”

Mirai was unsure how to answer. “Doesn’t that make what we do with the time we’ve got that much more important?”

Hart chuckled taking another puff. “I suppose so, but it’s never enough. The constant scavenging for resources and the rate at which we use them. Sustainable practices can’t keep up with the demand. To live is to take–time, money, food, the lives of others. We never stop taking.” He sighed deeply, leaning over the railing. “There’s no end in sight. We finish this war, take their remaining Virya, and then what? We’ll use it up and we’re back to square one. Human life is so fleeting, doubly so for Homunculi. We’re all scampering about, wasting away while we work ourselves to death for a future that we’ll barely experience. And for what? So that those in charge can live more comfortably off the labor of their people? It’s pointless, all of it.”

Mirai remained quiet, surprised to hear these words from the mouth of a Hyena.

“I have big plans for this country. I’ll bring about change for a brighter future, for Homunculi and humans. You’ll finally have a place in society if you join me.”

Mirai was cautious of the proposal. “And if I don’t?”

Hart didn’t answer, throwing his cigarette to the floor and extinguishing the light with his foot. He turned to leave.

“Take some time to think about it,” he said, as he made his way to the stairs.

Mirai watched as he walked away, bewildered. “Who are you?”

Hart looked back smiling. “Hart of Qín.”

The young pilot’s mind went blank. House of Qín–one of the seven rulers of the state. Hart was kin of the Oligarchy…and he planned on overthrowing them. A white trail lingered in the air. The seeds of uncertainty had been sown.