Prelude to Everything

The Sergeant at Arms of Station 13b

She stopped... Stone Cold.

She had been writing... Furiously, with blind fury...  

until she stopped. 

Stopped breathing, stopped seeing, stopped receiving inspiration... she abruptly stopped writing as suddenly as she had started. 

Six hours had flown by.
She had blindly filled page after page after virtual page with words. So many words!
Words she did not recognize. 

She had not slept. 

The sounds of the ancient mechanical typewriter keypad wired up to her retrofitted, air-gapped, digital ePort III Personal Digital Device still echoed the tiny metal room she sat in, a drone of mechanical whirring and metallic clatter.

Letting out a long, slow sigh, she stared at the final sentence that she had typed. It stared back at her impossibly. The words challenging her to face her own madness, question her own sanity-

These words that I have written are not my own,
but those of the long-neglected
Spirit that we once called
"Mother"

Heresy.

She had written heresy...

...and she dared not delete them, for deep down she somehow knew them to be TRUE. 

[IMAGE: fisheye lens view from security cam j2w49- 
Hallway j2 Private Quarters of Sergeant at Arms]

In the distance, strange music played. 
It had underscored her entire writing session. 

Only one person on the station would be playing such strange and antiquated music so loudly. 
Zed. Everyone else on board had the decency to utilize earphones. 

Not Zed though. He refused. 
Played all media, work or play, at top volume utilizing the entire array of top-line audio playback and analysis gear that came equiped, standard, in his particular professional compartment as Mission Audio Data Analyst. Zed argued that he could discern frequencies better this way, as opposed to limiting the data to the earphones. The majority of the crew had complained about it at least once during the first year of the Stations 7 year deployment.  Command Central rejected every complaint, stating that Zed's scientific prerogative overrides any station crew or staff personal objections. That's why everyone on the station keeps the personal issue, noise-canceling earphones in their ears at all times, to specifically block out everything coming out of Zed's massive speaker system 24 hours a day. 

She didn't mind though. She found Zed entertaining. 

Drifting in from down the hall, echoing up the central corridor from several decks below her, Zed's music managed to resonate 'just so' in her small cabin, blending with the keystrokes as she wrote. She couldn't really explain it any other way. 

Others on the station asked her why she didn't wear earphones and block him out and she would just say, "It resonates in my cabin... just so..."

Sergeant at Arms Liz Throckmorten was not ready for Monday Morning Shift Duties, and she dreaded the moment when... 

As if summoned by her thoughts, the digital sounds effects indicating that her much dreaded moment had arrived right on cue played from the hidden quad speakers in the corners of her room. 

The automated Shift Change Countdown timer chirped to life and began counting down
the 90-minute warning sequence alerting crew and staff of the impending Shift Change. 

Life on Station 13b was, if nothing else, predictably monotonous.
Everyone worked their assigned rotations, slept, ate, even socialized according to the audio dictates of the station's friendly virtual dictator officially titled AI Ship Crew Manager, and the expertly programmed schedule it generated and announced. 

Station Efficiency and Security depended on their strict compliance. 

Sergeant at Arms Liz Throckmorten was personally responsible for overseeing Station Security and Compliance. She was the Left Hand of the Law on Station 13b. 

As of Midnight three days ago, she was categorically NOT in compliance herself. No one else on Station 13b knew about her personal compliance failure.
Not even the hyper-vigilant AI SCM.