The Progeny

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The Trismegistus Megascope was a radical and controversial invention. Several stories tall, it possibly affected the orbit of Phobos. The various apparata forming the scope warped modern science to the extreme. Take, for example, the Phosphio-crystalline chamber housed in the B4 section of quadrant A. It had the ability to capture a portion of the universe, replicate it, and fold it into a holographic sub-space. It is common for the uninitiated to react to the overwhelming brilliance of the Celestial Simulacrum Chamber with violent nausea. Nevertheless, a truly wondrous and somewhat disorienting piece of technical science.

However, the sheer amount of bureaucracy that went into legalizing the damned method, galvanized particle extraction from the sun, cost ungodly amounts of resources and tied up half of Primal Earth's Divinity courts. Maxwell Rubble, last surviving scientist in the dangerous field of quantum-realism, gets a headache thinking about it all. Yet, occupying the head position of a team of Unknown Universe Cartographers was a just reward. It was perfect timing too because things were getting a little...dicey on Primal Earth. He needed a refuge to wile away his elongated lifespan for a bit.

In the latter half of the 3664 DE cycle, the first noteworthy event occurred. Jolted awake by his serving tendrils Maxwell grumbled before shooing the irksome things away. Maxwell's youthfully toned body glowed dimly in the radiating light of Mars. After groping his way to the portable Myr-ophonic, he prepared an injection of pure flower adrenaline to start his day. The irritating siren of his speaking cylinder quickly ruined the prospect of a morning immersed in quiet contemplation. Issuing forth from the tube, marred by only slight static, came the voice of enthusiastic-to-the-point-of-stammering Sub-Journeyer Gravesom. Maxwell, parsing out the gibberish, ascertained that his presence in the Simulacrum chamber was immediately required. True to his laconic style he did staccato a short reply and switched the cylinder off. He put on his usual Neuro-Sycherine soaked skullcap, dressed, bared his teeth at the mirror and made his way to the chamber.

The din of chatter quickly subsided as he strode in. The entire contingent of Cartographers and some curious base personnel gathered in front of a magnified hologram of an indistinguishable planet. The crowd immediately made an opening for the enigmatic Maxwell as hushed whispers followed in his wake. Anticipating a verbal assault by Gravesom, Maxwell sidled toward Senior Majestic Abermang for the clinical debriefing. Abermang immediately pulled a somatic digital stalk from his headpiece and connected it to Maxwell who quickly understood the situation. It appeared that the young Gravesom stumbled upon what seemed to be extra-terrestrial phenomena while cataloging all dead planets in the coordinates of 23.648. Extra-terrestrials were nothing new, what merited interest in this case was that these extra-terrestrials were not only surviving easily on a deadened planet, but also apparently intercommunicating.

Maxwell went over to the simulacrum to inspect the matter for himself. He then folded space into an eagle-eye view of the surface with the two inhabitants by motioning both hands. Before he could ask, he was loudly and haltingly informed by Gravesom that this was the best view attainable as the planet itself was well over a sep-tine year away. Maxwell studied the scene closely. Yes, there were two humanoid shaped figures motionless on the cracked surface. Other than that, Maxwell could not detect anything noticeable, even with his superior mind straining his capacitors. He waived for a notebook (for the old fashioned art of handwriting was highly pleasurable to him) and scribbled some notes. He informed the team to first get rid of all the stragglers in the chamber and, afterwards, to set up a schedule of constant surveillance. He then stalked off to his quarters to ponder this circumstance and other things of greater importance.