Amelia Locke pyr Aertas: Doctor of Tomorrow

[ludster]

 

 

    

Amidst the hustling downpour looms a distant skyscraper over the technological marvel of the Empire's capital. Upon a penthouse of the towering homebase of a renowned laboratory would behold memorabilias of old.
 
Photographs of long forgotten figures, robed with insignias of that of a cogwheel in motion, with one in particular in the midst of raising their mechanical arm in the air in a glorious pose; images of a family of six, with four children smiling with hope upon their gleaming visages; lastly, a photo depicting that of a more extended family, one bearing sights of a few faces, most notably that being of an amaranthine haired fellow, a small red head enveloped by his arms, and a forced smile upon a woman in a yellow jacket.

  

Soon, the silence of raindrops fade. The turning of a knob and the footfalls of heavy boots echo closer.

  
    

"Lady Aertas. The missives from overseas are still at large. The council wishes to know if Aertas Industries hopes to do something."

  
  

Only does an enervated sigh escape her. A gloved withered hand ebbs upon paperwork sat above a wooden desk. Reports of a Phoenix Core scribbled upon her handwriting, distant but not forgotten. Hands that once graced such a machine, now kept idle as it begins its final hours. No moves are taken, the option of an observer remains as much as their name implies.
   
A humble wave of her fingertips cause a mechanical figure to shift. Hereupon a stamp falls on the paperwork, leaving the label of 'PERMISSION CLASS S' upon it in bright red ink. Finally, the old tone of a monotonous woman beseeches the visitor. Her voice was as stringent as the day she left Esshar.
  

   
"Project Phoenix is to be kept classified. Only its creators and the upper echelon of the government may access its files."
   

   
In moments, the paper is whisked. In a flash, all returns to silence. The rain had long continued to pour upon a distant window. Soon, memories would meld with nothing but ash. What was once the City of Progress would soon find a sudden period upon its existence. Just like how it began, it ends with one final catastrophe.

   
"May Esshar burn upon the whims of the Empire, just one more time."