#'ill give him a slightly different hair color to match the color scheme better'

[doodlboy]

Huhhh not quite

[rnainframe]

big brother prologue?? check it outttt maybe give critique or thoughts on it idk

23:45, ENERA, CO10-2550.

The air outside is cool and crisp, the summer heat that had always managed to dig its claws into even the nighttime hours finally beginning to fade as autumn approaches. Gaia has no need for solstices or equinoxes deeming the beginning of the seasons any longer, given that it belongs to a different star, a different moon (two, in fact), a different solar system; yet, people still cling to those days, 21 into every fourth month. What a miracle that the weather has relatively the same patterns as Earth did, although without the disastrous changes in climate that rendered that poor, poor planet uninhabitable hundreds of years ago.

Weather-related machinations aside, it’s nice out, albeit a bit chilly with how late it is. Unox and Nycto glisten in the night sky, wreathed by dozens of comets and constellations alike.

A man named Augustus Megalos sits on the glossy, metallic deck adorned to the side of his home, bundled in his favorite jacket and scarf, tablet in hand. His brows furrow as he reads over a late-night news story. Some more members of that Irawood gang got apprehended by the LVPD a few minutes ago, caught trying to hack into and disable a system of security cameras in Envidia. Not much is known about the group, but given that the main reporters of news in Levis are members of the very group Irawood is opposed to, it’s too biased for Augustus to consider taking without at least a handful of salt in mind.

He leans back, looking up at the sky and resting his eyes for a moment -- ping! Some sort of notification. The sound is quiet, but abrupt enough to render his drowsiness nonexistent for a while longer.

< SIR, MAIL FOR YOU! >

The voice of Apistle, a yellow AI often used to assist his workplace in delivering more important packages and messages rings out.

“Thank you, Apistle. What type is it?”

< VIDEO MESSAGE, SIR! IT’S BEEN MARKED AS “HIGH PRIORITY”, AND “CONFIDENTIAL”, AND THE ONE WHO SENT IT IS MR. CRANE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO VIEW IT NOW? >

Oh. Delightful. His boss. “Give me a moment to get inside, I’ll look at it myself. But, thank you.” With an electronic chirp, the AI ceases communication.

Augustus turns the screen of the tablet off, the thin metal frame the hard light surface projects between folding up neatly into a five centimeter long bar. He tucks it into his pocket and heads through a sliding door, clicking on a lamp after closing the aforementioned door.

After putting away his scarf and jacket, and making sure his twins are sound asleep (given it’s very late on the night before the first day of the school year), he sits down at a table. The kitchen table, to be exact. He opens the tablet back up and sets it on the table, confirming that he would now like to view the message.

The contents of said message makes a twenty pound weight settle in his guts.

The screen of the tablet shifts to seem more like a large holographic projection, tinted slightly red to mimic the favored color for the man this message is from. Alistair Crane. A very tall, very slender thing, with messy black hair, a missing eye, and the sharpest cheekbones known to man. That ominous, dark-colored suit of his, accented with red lines, matches the one often seen on the mascot and security system of Health, Experimentation, and Technology, AUTARCH.

No wonder people portray him as some kind of cliche villain in satirical media (like, I don’t know, you ever watched Ektera Night Live?) -- the red-and-black color scheme, the gray eyes, the freaking EYE PATCH… Augustus wonders if anyone would take him seriously if he wasn’t the guy currently in charge of all of Levis. And one of the biggest companies in the world.

The holographic Mr. Crane sits at his desk, hands folded in front of him, a gentle but condescending smile creasing his lips, the kind with half-lidded eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Hello, Megalos. Your two children are fit to become upperclassmen at Levis’s fine school, correct? However… it’s come to my attention that one of them is now disqualified from the classes designated for Lumnia residents.”

Augustus sits back, nervously swallowing. He had tried for years to bury those anxieties of his about what could become of one of his children. Their late mother, Bernice, was a Kinetic. She had passed away when the twins were only five, barely old enough to have any memory of her, and about five years before Alistair Crane had taken over HEAT and allowed his prejudice against Kinetics to infect society.

If anything, he’s glad she passed when she did - she was such a happy woman, often depending on her Kinesis (Gyrokinesis, control over gravity, to an extent) for day to day tasks due to being weak and sickly much of her life. That same illness was what took her away.

And now, Kinetics are required to wear a wristband that forcibly disables the gene that allows them to harness and use their Kinesis. All because Alistair Gods-Damned Crane decided they were dangerous. Unstable. A threat to society.

If Bernice was alive now, she’d likely be unhappy. Depressed. Stuck in bed, feeling terrible about having to be tended to at all times just because of some laws put in place deeming her abilities as something akin to a weapon instead of a crutch.

But… maybe she would be better. Not with Kinesis, but with her health. In the past eleven years since her demise, almost everything has had some kind of cure discovered, thanks to the efforts of places like HEAT and SIRA -- the Silenda Intelligence and Research Association, based in a different country and being seen as a threat to Levis, due to copying the wristband technology and using it to help Kinetics instead of oppress.

Augustus realizes his train of thought has wandered elsewhere from the message, and that he’s begun to weep. The message ended a few minutes ago as his mind wandered. He takes his glasses off, wipes his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and restarts the message.

“...it’s come to my attention that one of them is now disqualified from the classes designated for Lumnia residents. In the screenings we do every year to make sure our residents are at top health and as pure as can be, we discovered that your wretched wife lives on in your daughter. She’s close to manifesting, isn’t she? On CO17, she will be escorted from your little hovel and prepared to live in Envidia. You have one week to prepare.”

That little smile soon grows into a wicked grin. Mr. Crane loathes everyone in Augustus’s family, including his brother’s and parents’ sides of it -- He’s not sure why, but perhaps it was because of something his father did. Phyllis-es were always prone to getting on people’s bad side. Especially his brother and father. -- so of course he has to be enjoying bringing a bit of misfortune into the lives of the members of the Megalos family.

“I’d suggest starting with measuring Ib’s wrist size.”

Augustus turns the tablet off and clamps his hands over his mouth, bitter tears rolling down his face.