Hissabeth: So, our meeting today has been called to discuss our possible transfer. The Laplace Office in Plesetsk is offering us a role in an aerospace-related research project.
Hissabeth: Our project would be to develop teleportation disks capable of delivering supplies to spacecraft. What could be a more perfect fusion of arcanum and science? This has the potential to be exactly what we're looking for.
Hissabeth: The floor is open; let's hear everyone's thoughts.
Snake III: Hisssss—
Hissabeth: As usual, Cephnest abstains. Anyone else?
Snake I: I think you're overstating things; it's only tangentially related to our targeted field.
Snake VI: But it is related! It's just like eating a fish; you've got to go bite-by-bite.
Her unusual metaphor fails to clarify things—and the topic derails.
Snake V: I told you those fish in the eco-tank were Six's doing!
Snake VI: It wasn't me—it was Cephnest. Probably training his hunting skills again.
Hissabeth: All discussion of the "eco-tank incident" can wait. Back on track—Monique's point is what I wanted to highlight.
Hissabeth: We'll begin with just working on transporting supplies into orbit, sure. But that's just the beginning; with time, we may be able to teleport people there too.
A tail tip rises. The siblings pride themselves on being fully informed before taking sides.
Snake VII: Sorry I was out cold all last week. Would someone kindly tell me where Plesetsk is?
Hissabeth: In simple terms, it's a little north of Moscow, give or take 500 miles.
Snake I: It's in the Arctic Circle! One gust and we're popsicles! Ice everywhere—very exciting!
A vivid description. Irrefutable, and for many, visibly unpleasant. Hissabeth attempts to salvage Plesetsk's image.
Hissabeth: The research is all indoors. In a climate-controlled office.
Snake III: hiss
Snake V: Sounds like Cephnest isn't a fan.
Snake VIII: The Arctic Circle? Sounds like an adventure! What could possibly be better?
Hissabeth: Let's wrap this up.
GAMEPLAY
Hissabeth wakes from her dream, neck stiff as she looks down at the scattered project notes that fell from her hand.
Hissabeth: Clearly I need some sleep. What a weird thing to dream of now.
Snake I: Is it? Or maybe your subconscious is reminding you: it's time for another formal vote.
Usually her siblings were kind enough not to intrude into her dreams—usually.
Hissabeth: You really are a sneak. Fine, are we going to hold another meeting?
Snake V: Honestly, I don't see a reason to turn her down.
Hissabeth: You mean concerning Prismagreen's proposal—
Hissabeth: Okay. I admit the project files are interesting, but it's not exactly cutting-edge research. It's focused and entirely practical refinement.
Snake VI: I think our current project's near-shutdown should be added to our risk assessment. I doubt it'll be the last.
Hissabeth: Abandoning a project over a few problems isn't our way.
Snake VIII: Starlight doesn't always have to light our way, Sylvie. Sometimes we can look elsewhere.
Snake VI: Seems like we're far from a consensus this time around.
It's a position that is far from unusual for these siblings.
Hissabeth: In fact, pushing for a conclusion without consensus doesn't help.
Hissabeth: Let's just unwind a little first and gather our thoughts, maybe find something to eat. I propose we delay our decision until the next meeting.
The grumbling stomachs make for a quick decision, and the motion passes unanimously.
When you work in a place with too few restaurants, you're bound to bump into familiar faces.
Kiperina: Oh, Miss Hissabeth, what a surprise.
Hissabeth: Considering the lack of quality restaurants in this area and our shared love of food, I'd hardly call it too surprising.
Hissabeth: Kidding. Just kidding. It's all good, kiddo. You being here just means we can order more!
Hissabeth: The stewed beef looks good. Or is there something you wanted to try?
Kiperina: Sure, I'd like to try the beef. If you'd like to, I mean.
Hissabeth: Then let's do that, plus one of these and a couple of those cookies I like. Thank you.
Restaurant Owner: Absolutely, girls. Old Yuri will make sure you leave full and happy.
Hissabeth: So, have you heard anything from Windsong? After what you've been through, I thought she'd have gotten you in another position real quick.
Kiperina: She said the same. But I guess she received some sudden news. She said she had to go somewhere to "lend a hand."
Kiperina: So I'm still here for now, at least until she returns. What about you?
Hissabeth: Me?
Kiperina: I just mean, did you decide anything yet?
Restaurant Owner: Here's your toast and cream fish soup. Eat up, girls.
Kiperina: Oh, it looks delicious, Mr. Yuri! Thank you!
Restaurant Owner: It's Old Yuri's best dish. Don't forget to dip the bread.
The ever-striving little astronaut can't help but nod and follow out his suggestion.
Kiperina: Hmm! It's really good!
Old Yuri walks off, satisfied with the praise.
Hissabeth: Everything's changing so fast. It's comforting when something still tastes the same.
Hissabeth glances over. Kiperina is gently stirring the soup, lost in thought. Changing soup flavors had been the least of her worries.
Hissabeth: Hey, uhm, maybe I can offer some emotional support?
Kiperina: But, I wasn't … Uh, I mean, thank you.
She sees the quiet hope in the eyes looking back at her.
Hissabeth: In fact, all the stars we see are really billions of light-years away.
Hissabeth: By the time we finally get to see it, the star it's from may have already collapsed.
Hissabeth: But it's still there for you to see, and its light will keep on traveling forever.
Kiperina: Oh. That's really kind of poetic.
Hissabeth: Maybe it is. It's almost poetic, isn't it? The light in your eyes, your memory of that star—your very existence is someone else's legacy.
Hissabeth: So don't be too sad. You'll carry them forward, just like they carried you.
Kiperina: Thank you, Miss Hissabeth. I … I guess I'm just not used to all these changes.
Kiperina: But I'll try my best to hold them in my memory. I know that's what they'd want.
Hissabeth nods with some satisfaction, filing the moment away in her memory.
Next time someone accuses her of being "distant," she'll have solid evidence to the contrary.
She turns her attention back to her soup, until Kiperina's soft laughter scoops her up again.
Kiperina: I guess I'm just surprised to hear you say all that; I remember when you told us you were "allergic to poetry."
Snake I: Our shared consciousness means that if I'm reading Chaucer and Two is reading about general relativity, all nine of us gain a measure of both.
Maxim had been holding back for a while to preserve the atmosphere Hissabeth had carefully constructed. Now it found the perfect opening and struck.
Hissabeth: It's extremely efficient. Even Pointer is envious of our ability to analyze data so fast. Still, we have our own passions; I've never really liked literature or philosophy much.
Hissabeth: Though I wasn't really being serious back then. I do like poetry—a little, in small doses.
Hissabeth: It can be an effective tool for mental training—analyzing the layers of imagery, tone, and emotion can be useful for sharpening one's logical faculties.
Snake VIII: Ugh, Sylvie! Do you really have to reduce it to a science? Poetry is the crowning glory of civilization.
Hissabeth: Didn't one of your favorite writers once say that one illiterate person could humble any writer? Something like that. Well I can read, but ...
Hissabeth: Oh, who was it ... Eliot? Or maybe Whitman? One of them anyway; I think he'd appreciate my point of view.
However Eliot or Whitman would have reacted, it's abundantly clear someone else is not pleased right now.
Hissabeth: Ah!
Snake I: Ouf! Eight, why did you bite her?
Snake VIII: You know why!
Snake V: Imbécile! Did you forget that we'd all feel it?
Snake IV: Huh … What just happened?
Such sudden family conflicts are rare and usually don't turn to biting. Kiperina reactively began separating them from one another.
In the process, she missed the perfect moment to ask her question.
Yet a hint of curiosity lingers in her mind.
Kiperina: Speaking of which, will you accept Miss Prismagreen's invitation?