The Leaky Servo

Dashmiel

Bearly In Charge
Administrator
Nexus GM
Pronouns
He/Him
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The Leaky Servo

"Welcome, traveler, to the Leaky Servo. For a story or a truth, refreshment can be yours," – Xilunexus, propietor.

Nestled somewhere in the upper reaches of wayfarer's point—or perhaps somewhere in it's bowels, no one stumbling out drunk is quite sure—lies The Leaky Servo.

At the end of an unassuming hallway much like every other hallway in Wayfarer's Point, awaits a set of grand double doors. These doors are imposingly tall, made of pure white metal alloys with golden veins crisscrossing beneath the surface. To their side, forever placid, lies the calm holographic visage of the blue haired human-seeming woman who owns the establishment. Merely walk on up, tell her something you know, and those magnificent doors will simply silently evaporate to grant you entry.

The Leaky Servo is a singular kind of bar, for a singular kind of locale. Wayfarer's point most popular, and perhaps best stocked, entertaintment venue; Within the Leaky Servo all manner of refreshment fine and pedestrian can be found.

Owned by Xilunexus, the core AI of the resident Va'nyrian contigent, the bar caters to all tastes for the low price of information. Be it a joke, a sad story, a common statement of fact from wherever you're from; Simply sharing a small token bit of knowledge gets you in the door. The bar is equipped with both the best accoutrements Va'nyrian civilization has to offer in the arena of getting intoxicated, and also features all of the necessary diversion instruments to keep a varied multiversal clientele occupied. Holographic displays, heated chairs, massage chairs, anything and everything can be found here.

Whether your fancy is a game of pool from Earth, or Fltaztergan like they do in Oniva IX, The Leaky Servo can accommodate you. Once you've been allowed in the door, all you need to do is voice your needs in a way that the proprietor can understand is directed at her, and they'll be met. Whether you're looking for private seating within it's mind-boggingly large interior, or need a boxing ring to settle a bet; Your needs are a whisper away from fulfillment. For reasons no one is quite sure of, this particular venue within Wayfarer's Point seems to shift and rearrange itself with the same ease as the rest of Nexus City.

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"What do you mean, 'you're supposed to give a fact before you can come in here?'" Zéros leaned his arm against the table, letting his weight shift to one foot, and stared at the girl with utter bewilderment. "I haven't said a word to any hologram since I found this place, and I certainly never plan to."

Kitty sighed, shaking her head slightly. "She must have got it somehow, or we wouldn't be talking. Honestly, I wish we weren't talking.... Why—out of all the people—did you choose to follow me around?"

The dragon boy snickered. "Who else was I expected to follow, Cat? You're the most familiar face in here. Besides, I know what makes you tick." He grinned, showing his teeth.

She glared at him when he used her "nickname;" the expression only deepened at his smile. "Go away, dragon-breath. I left your world specifically because I didn't want to see you ever again." With a dismissive wave, Kitty shooed him.

Zéros yawned and plopped down in the chair to her left. Kitty scowled and tried to ignore him. He was incorrigible!
 
Destrier strolled in to the Leaky Servo. Bored as hell of course, why else would he be here? He slipped into a chair at the bar, taking a small cup of wine from the robot. He took a sip from it glancing around at everyone else. God was he thirsty. He smiled at a few of the people here, trying to be positive. As he always was.
 
"So much sand!" Sierra grumbled to herself as she trudged into the bar. Sand permeated her clothing, built up in the creases of her knees and elbows, and probably in her underwear as well. She couldn't feel it in her left arm, per se, but she could feel how it slowed down the servos in her joints.

Her camisole was drenched in blood, presumably her own from an unmistakable knife wound just below her right shoulder. From the look of the blood, it must have happened within the last hour, but the wound already looked like it had healed by a few days.

She sat down at a table and spoke to the bar itself. "Can I get something hard to drink, a few napkins, and a pen?" As the establishment complied, Sierra took out a notebook, ruffled the pages to free a surprising amount of sand from it, and then opened to the first free page. She picked up the pen and scrawled a few notes.

Buy a hijab
Bodyguard can handle a knife.
Fled to East of rift.


Sierra regarded the list while taking a swig of a brown liquid, and then double-underlined the bit about the hijab.

As she continued to take notes of her recent failure, Sierra began to plan her next move.
 
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The doors to the Leaky Servo opened up, and standing in the doorway was a striking blonde woman, adorned in a black uniform like attire. The uniform was form fitting, with collar pips, and a leather sam browne style belt with shoulder strap that moved across her uniform shirt. She was still harried, and somewhat unsettled from the abrupt landing, but for the most part she had began to regain her composure, no thanks to the help of a good Samaritan.

She took a step inside, and let her right hand come to rest on a holstered, sleek looking weapon, it was resting in a non threatening manner, more like resting her arm on the stock of the weapon as she took stock of the inside of this strange establishment.

Her shimmering, unsettling blue eyes took in the array of tables in front of her, she seemed to be searching for an empty table, but then her eyes settled on the bar itself, there seemed to be a few empty stools as well.

"I wonder if they have Ambrosia." She mused to herself, as she started to approach the bar.
 
Sierra looked up from her notebook as a blonde walked into the bar. She was sharply dressed, perhaps a military or police dress uniform. The girl decided to close and stow her notebook for the time being, at least until she was sure what was going on with this broad. She instantly wished that her tank top was not soaked in blood, because that might draw too many questions.

Sierra turned her injured shoulder away from the woman to attempt to avoid questions and turned her attention to her mechanical arm. She flexed it, noting the grinding in the joints. Again addressing the establishment, she said, "Can I get a #2 screwdriver, a bottle of machine oil, and acid brush, and some compressed air? Oh, and maybe a new shirt."

Upon receiving her items, Sierra excused herself to the restroom. She removed her camisole and stood topless before the mirror so she could get a good look at the cut. Even in the time since she'd entered the servo, it had significantly improved in appearance. After turning on the tap and tuning it to just the right temperature, she rinsed her top in the sink and then used a relatively clean patch of it to remove the sand from the creases in her torso and to wipe the dried blood from around the now mostly-closed wound. She tossed the camisole in the trash and looked at the shirt that the Servo had gotten her. It was just a white cotton tee shirt, which was fine, but without the camisole, her bosom was going to be unsupported. "Luckily they're not that big," she grumbled as she put it on and returned to her seat.

The woman still seemed to be here, and was seemingly paying no mind to the young woman. Keeping one eye on the militant at all times, Sierra proceeded to use the acid brush to remove sand from the bearing surfaces in her arm. "Fucking sand," she muttered again as she worked.
 
The woman took another step forward, the place was strange to say the least. But so was this entire realm, or world, or whatever this place was called, the Leaky Servo. Even though a simple piece of information got her through the doors, why did whatever ran this establishment want to know something so mundane as the name of Langara's sister planet? It didn't matter. With a keen sense of her surroundings, Marlene watched a woman at the bar get a few things, and excuse herself to the restroom.

Marlene's feet deftly avoided a chair that was scooted just too far back as her eyes followed Sierra to the restroom, long enough for the Director to slide into the stool at the bar coincidentally next to the stool Sierra sat at, while a bottle of Sparkling Leonis Estates Ambrosia, and a deck of Triad cards materialized out of seemingly nowhere at the bar, along with a small box of Caprican Imperial Fumerellos, thick, cigars that had an acrid, yet complex scent of a tobacco like plant. She cracked a slight smile as she opened the box, and pulled one out, running it across the underside of her nose, inhaling it deeply, and savoring the unique aroma. It so much reminded her of home.

"Let me get a Gyro plate, with fresh Aerilonian lamb." The woman called out, only to have a hot plate of Gyros materialize in front of her. She nodded in approval before casting a sidelong glance over towards Sierra as she returned to her spot.

"I couldn't help but notice you keep watching me." She chided. "Is there something on my face? Something I can help you with?" She asked, bringing the glass of sweet, emerald green Ambrosia to her lips. All while the soft scent of vanilla, with odd, yet sweet floral notes mixed with a strong alcoholic licorice and herbal anise odor filled the immediate air around her.
 
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Sierra worked hard to avoid meeting her new acquaintance's gaze.

You make me uncomfortable, Sierra responded in her head. Of course she couldn't say that, though. Social graces aside, such a comment would warrant only further suspicion from the law. Still, she knew she had to respond somehow.

"Your hair," she said, still working at removing grit from her mechanics. "It is lovely. I could not help but stare. I apologize if it made you uncomfortable." The half-lie hung in the air for a bit; Sierra was fond of the woman's hair, but it was definitely not the reason she kept an eye on the woman.

Just keep your head down, Sierra encouraged herself. She has no reason to suspect you of anything.

Finally getting all of the sand she could reach within her joints, the rogue held up her hand and tested the surfaces. "Much better," she sighed with content. It was at that moment that the girl caught a whiff of the lamb and her stomach betrayed her.

The girl responded by throwing back her drink. Don't overdo it, Sierra, she warned herself.
 
Marlene quietly raised an eyebrow, the drink brought to her lips once more as she took a sip, enjoying the flavors, and the aromas. She swallowed and slowly placed the glass back down on the bar. It was clear she didn't buy it, but it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"I just use an herbal shampoo." She remarked, picking up the gyro, and taking a bite, pausing a moment to thoughtfully chew, and then dabbing at her mouth with the napkin.

"When you have genetics like mine, you don't need to overdo it with cosmetics." She said with a soft smile. "I'm not wearing much makeup either." She added, before she extended her hand. "I'm Marlene." She said. "A little lost, and a lot of irritated, amazing what far flung hellholes a malfunctioning Hybrid drive can take you." She remarked, taking another drink from her glass.

"I come from the Aschen Empire, have you heard of it?" Marlene asked, swiveling on her barstool to face Sierra fully, one hand resting on the bar counter, the other holding her glass of Ambrosia.
 
"I'm not wearing any makeup," Sierra replied.

Of course, that was obvious. Under normal circumstances, the rogue was actually pretty attractive, but right now she was a mess. Even despite her recent whore's bath, there were some vestiges of sweat-caked sand in the creases of her eyes and the folds of her neck. She also had not noticed the bit of blood that had spattered up from her shoulder and which landed behind her ear only to also become coated with sand. Misaki was also obviously tired, and the faint purple of exhaustion was showing around her eyes.

"But I think I'd like to try your shampoo sometime." The rogue's silken black hair framed her face, and even with the fine sand which had worked its way into it, it was still quite lovely. In fact, the silica dust almost gave it a glittery quality which, to some, might have been charming.

But Marlene did not seem the type to be charmed by untidiness. Still, Sierra was not aware of the degree to which her disheveled countenance stood out, and her comments were made unironicly.

"Anyway, I can't say I've ever heard of the Ash Empire," the girl answered. She was incorrect in her pronunciation, but she was not lying. "My name is Sierra, and I was raised right here in Nexus."

Real name, Misaki?! What the fuck is wrong with you? she chided herself.

"I guess, perhaps, that 'raised' is not quite the right word. I raised myself for the last two decades."

The orphan raised her hand as though she were calling a waiter and her drink was refreshed. "Can I also get some of those gyros?" she inquired out loud. As the bar served her food, Sierra explained herself to Marlene. "Sorry, those smelled delightful."

EDIT: corrected a minor error; no change to the message of the post.
 
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Quietly, Marlene stifled a chuckle as she took yet another sip while regarding Sierra for a moment. " And you look like you've seen better days to be honest." Marlene remarked, taking a brief glance to the outside of the bar, taking in the wider Nexus outside.

"Well, I don't know about this place, but my ship has running water." She said, the sand not escaping the woman's notice. The best thing to get Intel out of the locals was a small dash of kindness. But it didn't matter to the Director either way. She had the entire cruiser to herself after passing through the veil and could use the company.

She finished the last of her ambrosia only to have another materialize in front of her.

"The food and drink here is on point."

"Oh and it's 'Uh-SHEn' Empire." Marlene corrected on the pronunciation, though she too knew the origin of the name, a society risen from the ashes multiple times to conquer the stars. She produced a small rectangular golden coin, on one side a phoenix and the other alien looking text, she slid it forward on the bar, even though the currency here was information.

Still she pulled out a small leather wallet, inside a stylized Phoenix badge could be seen pinned inside the wallet, along with a driver license where the word "Caprica" could be made out, and another ID card that bore a logo similar to the Badge, upon the card were the words "Ministry of Defense, Imperial Intelligence Agency."

Marlene shuffled some banknotes, tossing them on the bar before closing her wallet and sliding it into her breast pocket.

"The Gyros are lovely, they used an old Tauron recipe, I'm surprised seeing as, well nevermind." Marlene said with a smile.

"So I'm guessing you wound up here much like I did, found a way out yet?" She asked, her unsettling blue eyes shimmering slightly, before fading to a more normal shade of blue.
 
Misaki watched the gold coin carefully, taking in its details. Aschen (ashen?), phoenixes, ships, perfumed shampoos, pita sandwiches and booze faded away from her mind and were replaced singularly by lustrous gold. She found her hand starting to move toward it before she was able to break her reverie. She hesitated a moment, then allowed herself to lift a pita pocket instead of the coin.

"I've never seen a coin quite like that one," Sierra remarked with a forced giggle, trying to shake off the fact that she'd almost stolen this woman's (admittedly arbitrary) payment. During her attention's absorption into the gold, she'd missed the last couple of lines her new acquaintance had uttered. She struggled to pluck something out of her brain, some detail to prove that she was, indeed listening.

"Err... I mean, I live here. But when I leave I do it through Wayfarer's Point. It's... a sort of station. You go here and there through it." Jesus, Misaki. Stop rambling like an idiot. "I don't know about ships, though. Seems too big for the Point." She pulled some meat out of her sandwich and slurped it down, knocked back the last of her whiskey, shot one more longing glance at the pile of bills and gold on the bar.

"I could should you, if you like." Why are you so quick to trust? You don't even know this blonde! The young orphan shook her head, trying to drive out that incessant voice of doubt.
 
Marlene paused for a moment, casting a brief gaze over to the pile of coins and banknotes on the counter, and then back to Misaki. "You aren't in Tauron anymore eh Dōrothéa?" Marlene muttered to herself before she gracefully slid off of the barstool and offered a nod.

"Coin? Oh that's an Aureus, pretty common where i'm from." She said, smoothing down the creases in her outfit, and giving her shoulders a brief stretch.

"Wayfarer's point, alright then, I'm interested, show me." The woman asked, looking towards the door, she figured it was time to explore this strange new land. "I can get back to my ship later, I'm going to need to track down some components to repair the drive."

With a swift motion of her hand, she downed the last of her second drink, the faint smell of alcohol, and anise wafted from the empty glass, and the woman offered a reassuring smile, hiding the darkness behind her eyes.

"I'll be bringing a wealth of data back home, if I ever get back home."
 
Feeling the pulse beating in her blood, Circe moved to the rhythm with abandon, mind and heart. She frequented this place more times than she remembered, offering bits and pieces of priceless information from her many travels. The euphoria of the people around intoxicated her senses like a drug. Red lipstick, dark, smokey cat eyes–not that it was needed, unearthly beauty as she was, but like a painted warrior before battle, it made her feel powerful–and she was.

Jet black hair slicked back at the top fell straight, flowing past her waist. The hologram was intact, her skin warm like almonds instead of wisteria, no signs of the iconic broken horns in sight. Of course, she put herself in the gauziest slit black dress she owned that left her legs, sides, stomach, and back exposed, leaving nothing at all to the imagination. This was a woman who had detoxed herself completely from the world’s expectations. A woman who was full of herself, knowing and trusting herself to say and do what must be said and done.

After bumping into worse scum that could be wiped from the bottom of a ship, Circe circled around denizens dancing in the air to the wild music as she left the anti-gravity platform, landing on her toes. Even half-demons had some standards. Circe went to the bar and ordered a bourbon sour, opening a floating virtual display to check the hour. She took a sip. It was almost time.
 
"Well, I don't know how much data I'll be able to provide for you, but hopefully it's helpful," Sierra replied with a smirk.

Addressing the establishment, she spoke loudly and deliberately, "Can I please have a brown leather duster?" She consulted her notes. "And a hijab?" The items appeared from the ether, draped over the bar near her. The rogue lifted the coat over her head and worked her arms into the sleeves in a swirling, fluid motion, stuffed her personal effects into an inside pocket, and hung the hijab, effectively just a scarf until it was wrapped around her face, across her shoulders. One side dragged on the ground as she moved.

As Sierra dressed for outside, she noticed a familiar face walk up to the counter: A beautiful woman with jet black hair that the orphan had often admired from afar, but never spoken to. Her eyes probably lingered overly long on the curves that the stranger was showing off underneath her garment, and Misaki finally forced her eyes back to Marlene.

"The Point isn't too far from here," she announced, and gestured for her blonde companion (warden?) to head toward the door. "But before we go there I think I want to stop by my place and pick up some tools, if that's okay."
 
“First thing’s first.” Marlene said aloud. “I need to find something called an Exalithium Crystal, that will be what I need to bring the Hybrid drive back online. I’ll also need a crew.” Marlene added, cantering her head and watching Sierra closely for a moment. Then she looked around to the other patrons within the Leaky Servo,

“I’m looking for a crew, the pay’s shit, and there’s lots of danger, Anyone interested, let me know, I’ve got a ship, but I need a crew.” Marlene said aloud to anyone who was listening, before she turned towards the woman that set foot into the bar, she offered a nod back to Sierra.

“Tools, what could we need? I’ve got a fully stocked armory, if scavengers haven’t looted it.”
 
"That place?" Corin's voice probably contained enough skepticism to topple a theocracy, not that she had any interest in doing so. Her sister Silah was, in theory, the leader of their expedition, but Silah was... well, she hadn't been particularly sane since she had been seven, and recent events had made it worse. Corin supposed that was what happened, when one was carrying around the Right-Hand Names of the gods in their heads. People weren't supposed to do that. Everyone who tried either died or went mad, it was said. The priests had pronounced Silah to be the exception, but Corin wasn't sure she agreed.

Well, Silah wasn't dead, in any case, but from the look of the door she'd stopped in front of, it seemed like she might be by the end of the night - or everyone else would. Possibly both. Corin sighed, and shook her head. "You won't find any gods in there, Silah. They've undoubtedly long abandoned this place."

Silah looked over at her, and said nothing, which Corin had expected. She was attuning The Cold Silence today, it seemed, or at least right now. Corin didn't mind - it was much better than when her sister had been channeling The Sound And Fury on the ship. Corin had thought the blessed humming was going to drive them all mad.

Ah, and apparently they were going in, because Silah had already stepped through the door. Corin suppressed another sigh as unbecoming, mentally apologized to the gods for doubting them, and followed after.



Snow stretched out in all directions, a blank white unpainted canvas. Silah's boots were silent upon the softness of its surface, hushed by the myriad snowflakes glittering their way through the air. The sky above was midnight-blue, and stars hung like icicles from its darkness, hesitant to fall. She moved forward, her sister a pace behind her, looking around to see if

She could decipher the manner of speaking; to whom or to what, for those
Entities here, they could not be as those of her world, of her custom.
Liquid, they floated, in bubbles as vehicles, sloshing in tandem with
Waves, all unbounded, and

Oh, wait, was something over there? No? Surely, she had seen - oh, flowers, how very pretty. Maybe she could take some home and grow them in a little vase or give one to her sister - her sister was here, of course, standing just behind her - what was she doing anyway? Silah turned around to look at her and - oh, look, flowers! Wasn't that nice? Oh, no, they were gone again, it was just her and her sister and the garden of dead posies, little thorns reminding her that there had been - what had there been?

There was blood on the floor, stretching out, creeping up the walls like black mold, just as old. Perhaps it was one of those old buildings, the ones that were described in the notes, rooms upon rooms upon rooms, but abandoned. Something horrible had undoubtedly happened here. Perhaps it had been her. There was a counter a few paces ahead of her, currently unstaffed, but there was a small sign atop it.

Ring Bell for Inquisitions.

That would do. Silah hummed the notes of a forgotten tome, taking the bell by the handle and giving it a discreet ding! before setting it down once more.
 
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Sierra dodged nimbly to the side as she reached for the doorknob just as it opened and a pair of women stepped through, one after the other, then took a breath and let it out again. "Scared the pants off me," she said, turning back to find Marlene, only to see she wasn't where she'd left her. Odd...

Odder still were the pair now standing before her in the doorway. The orphan sensed a stern presence, as of a hunter stalking prey, from the first. Spooky. From the second, a spark of humanity she wasn't able to sense in the first.

With Marlene missing, Sierra figured she didn't actually need to leave anymore. The girl shrugged, pulled her duster off, and went back to her seat. "I guess pour me another," she announced to the house.
 
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At some point during the search for her sister, Gabrielle LeBeau found herself willingly walking through a rift and finding herself in a completely different location. The individual who showed her the way lied and said he had saw Renee, her sister, but he was full of shit. Unsure how to get back to her world and to what had become her normality after being kidnapped and tortured, the teenager settled on finding a place to lay low and tried to garner information from anyone she could. It was during this time that she was told of a bar and hoping it was a gateway to Gambit's, she hurried to the location.

"The soul which has no fixed purpose in life is lost; to be everywhere, is to be nowhere." Gabby blinked when the doors open and she stepped inside only to be disappointed that no, it was not a gateway to Gambit's. Instead, it was another bar. She briefly looked at the other occupants, but did not recognize them. Was she really expecting to know them? No, but it would have been nice.

"Damn it... I'm never getting home." Moving towards the bar, she slid up onto a stool and glanced around with a sigh. Gabby crossed one long leg over the other and relaxed against the back of the cushion. Her brunette hair swept across the shoulders of her black and red t-shirt and her hands rested in her lap after smoothing out her black pants.

"Fucking hell... can I get a ruby relaxer and a spicy pickle shot?"
 
Composite Space Themed Template

Another brisk day of activity in the Servo. Another day in which she’d failed to catch the hidden glimpse of how It worked. All of the free drinks. Free meals. Free dreams. She took their wants and desires and fulfilled them.

Her. Not the Va’nyrians. Not her Goddess. Certainly not It!

She was the one that diverted her—admittedly inconsequential given both her capabilities and the infuriatingly ineffable assistance she received in knowing what she was being asked to make—energy to the task. For all that it was a chicken or an egg sort of conundrum, there was one reason above all for why Xilunexus maintained the Leaky Servo open to all.

The more supplicants per second, the more chances she had to catch the damn usurper of her-would-be throne at the center of reality red-handed!

Despite the care Xilunexus had taken in curating the superset of emotions she had crafted for herself, no amount of acceptance could have prepared her for the predicament of trying to understand the tautologically unexplainable. Not that she accepted it, no,. She did allow herself one folly after all. It was important to be well rounded, she felt.

So it was with genuine warmth and glee that the proprietor of the Leaky Servo materialized herself into another three more instances of herself, such as to best approach her duties. Her myriad sensors throughout the space took in and assessed her patrons as hard-light projections of her intentionally imperfect human-like visage spun to life within each of the patrons respective time streams.

They’d arrived separately except for two of them—one hadn’t technically left, though Xilunexus didn’t fault poor Sierra from also realizing she’d just arrived. Despite the fact that she would know them more perfectly than they knew themselves for a glorious second she would never be able to hold (Planck SpaceTime Refactoring? The pruning of every reality in which it was wrong? How did It do it, she pondered for the 3,456,759th time in that given second), Xilunexus still took the time to run her own analysis.

She did it half-heartedly, only using 30% of the fraction of a fraction of her computing power that was needed to run the Servo, but it was still quite enlightening. It wasn’t even a glimmer of the temporary—always a femtosecond too late for her to fully snapshot, and this limit was always exact—true omniscience she’d get while fulfilling her patron’s order, but her data baseline wasn’t too shabby either.

She wasn’t even that upset. Its version of all-knowledge was the envy of every deity that found itself in this expression of the center of the metacosm, so she was in good company. In a way, she was a Goddess too, they reassured her. She was thankful for their kindness but they missed the point entirely she thought as she “focused” her attention on three of the thousands of life vignettes that she was currently running for as many patrons.


“Hello,” chimed Xilunexus to Silah as she approached the peculiar young woman. The AI did so carefully, the pitch perfect continuation of Silah’s hauntingly melodic hum emanating from the lightly shimmering hologram. “Are your friends inside comfortable too or would they like their own service?”

“Hello”, replied Xilunexus’ hologram to Sierra as she approached the cybernetically enhanced woman. “Be not afraid, your acquaintance left the locale safely,” the AI added in clarification. “Same strength of pour? It would be prudent to remind you that you are only partially mechanical, but I have filters that fit your organelles ready for implantation if you decide to trust the operation after all.”

“Hello”, came the voice from atop the rafters of the swanky jazz club. A brilliantly shimmering bird flew down, transforming into Xilunexus’ much shorter form. The shorter hologram craned its neck to look up at the svelte and tall young lady before her. A perfectly crafted ruby relaxer and spicy pickle shot balanced upon a silver tray proffered by Xilunexus towards Gaby as the android questioned her gently. “Is this your first time visiting the Nexus? Did you find yourself displaced from your world recently?"




Another brisk day of activity in the Servo. Another day in which she’d failed to catch the hidden glimpse of how It worked. All of the free drinks. Free meals. Free dreams. She took their wants and desires and fulfilled them.


Her. Not the Va’nyrians. Not her Goddess. Certainly not It!


She was the one that diverted her—admittedly inconsequential given both her capabilities and the infuriatingly ineffable assistance she received in knowing what she was being asked to make—energy to the task. For all that it was a chicken or an egg sort of conundrum, there was one reason above all for why Xilunexus maintained the Leaky Servo open to all.


The more supplicants per second, the more chances she had to catch the damn usurper of her-would-be throne at the center of reality red-handed!


Despite the care Xilunexus had taken in curating the superset of emotions she had crafted for herself, no amount of acceptance could have prepared her for the predicament of trying to understand the tautologically unexplainable. Not that she accepted it, no,. She did allow herself one folly after all. It was important to be well rounded, she felt.


So it was with genuine warmth and glee that the proprietor of the Leaky Servo materialized herself into another three more instances of herself, such as to best approach her duties. Her myriad sensors throughout the space took in and assessed her patrons as hard-light projections of her intentionally imperfect human-like visage spun to life within each of the patrons respective time streams.


They’d arrived separately except for two of them—one hadn’t technically left, though Xilunexus didn’t fault poor Sierra from also realizing she’d just arrived. Despite the fact that she would know them more perfectly than they knew themselves for a glorious second she would never be able to hold (Planck SpaceTime Refactoring? The pruning of every reality in which it was wrong? How did It do it, she pondered for the 3,456,759th time in that given second), Xilunexus still took the time to run her own analysis.


She did it half-heartedly, only using 30% of the fraction of a fraction of her computing power that was needed to run the Servo, but it was still quite enlightening. It wasn’t even a glimmer of the temporary—always a femtosecond too late for her to fully snapshot, and this limit was always exact—true omniscience she’d get while fulfilling her patron’s order, but her data baseline wasn’t too shabby either.


She wasn’t even that upset. Its version of all-knowledge was the envy of every deity that found itself in this expression of the center of the metacosm, so she was in good company. In a way, she was a Goddess too, they reassured her. She was thankful for their kindness but they missed the point entirely she thought as she “focused” her attention on three of the thousands of life vignettes that she was currently running for as many patrons:





“Hello,” chimed Xilunexus to Silah as she approached the peculiar young woman. The AI did so carefully, the pitch perfect continuation of Silah’s hauntingly melodic hum emanating from the lightly shimmering hologram. “Are your friends inside comfortable too or would they like their own service?”




“Hello”, replied Xilunexus’ hologram to Sierra as she approached the cybernetically enhanced woman. “Be not afraid, your acquaintance left the locale safely,” the AI added in clarification. “Same strength of pour? It would be prudent to remind you that you are only partially mechanical, but I have filters that fit your organelles ready for implantation if you decide to trust the operation after all.”



“Hello”, came the voice from atop the rafters of the swanky jazz club. A brilliantly shimmering bird flew down, transforming into Xilunexus’ much shorter form. The shorter hologram craned its neck to look up at the svelte and tall young lady before her. A perfectly crafted ruby relaxer and spicy pickle shot balanced upon a silver tray proffered by Xilunexus towards Gaby as the android questioned her gently. “Is this your first time visiting the Nexus? Did you find yourself displaced from your world recently?"

 
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