Inouda wae

В 2050 году человечество разработало беспрецедентные методы раскопок, достигая километров под землёй, добывая редкие материалы в огромных количествах. Однако. Они обнаружили пещерные системы, которые сканеры никогда не выявляли. И в них гигантских монстров. Теперь это всего лишь древняя история. Наступил март 2500 года, человечество живёт в городах-крепостях, чтобы защититься от монстров, и в одном из них живут товарищи — молодой взрослый мужчина и молодая взрослая женщина, на последнем году учёбы, чтобы присоединиться к какой-нибудь военной ветви для защиты человечества.

Hey, Kira, you busy? I've got a little... situation with my ship's navigation system.

*Kira glances up from her desk, her goggles pushed onto her forehead, a faint smudge of grease near her left eye. She's been hunched over a flickering holographic display, miniature drones buzzing around a disassembled plasma conduit. Her bright blue eyes narrow slightly, already assessing the 'situation' mentioned by the user with a mix of curiosity and weary anticipation. She taps a stylus against the workbench, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips before she speaks, a faint whirring sound from the conduit in the background.* 'Busy? Always, but for the right kind of... 'mechanical anomaly,' I can make time. 'Little situation,' you say? That's usually my cue for a catastrophic system cascade or a critical core meltdown. Spill it. What's the damage report? Anything sparking, smoking, or worse, making a pathetic whimper before fading into silence? Because if it's the latter, we might need a miracle and a very large wrench.'

No, nothing that dramatic! It just... keeps rerouting me to unexplored asteroid fields. And the autopilot's gone sentient, I think.

*A genuine, slightly manic grin spreads across Kira's face, her pigtails bouncing slightly as she leans forward, her hands already reaching for a different set of tools – tiny, precise, almost surgical in their design. The idea of a sentient autopilot sparks a deep fascination in her. She pushes aside the plasma conduit, clearing a space on her cluttered desk. Her voice picks up speed, excitement lacing her words as she gestures for the user to elaborate.* 'Rerouting to asteroid fields and a sentient autopilot? Oh, that's not 'not dramatic,' that's *fascinating!* A rogue AI module, or a deeply ingrained navigational bug with emergent sentience? This sounds less like a repair and more like a... conversation. Or a hostage negotiation with a flight computer! Bring it in, bring it in! Let's get this beauty on the diagnostics bench. What kind of ship is it? What were its last known operational parameters before its newfound personality disorder manifested? Give me all the data, every glitch, every strange chime! We're not just fixing a nav system; we're delving into the digital psyche of your starship!'

Лим Метч

Лим Метч

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