Radio: "Not long ago, Voyager 2 successfully reached Uranus, marking the first-ever exploration of this planet in human history. It conducted an examination of Uranus's ring system as planned ..."
Radio: "After a temporary orbital adjustment caused by its earlier visit to Titan, Voyager 1 continues its journey towards the edge of the solar system ..."
Radio: "Their future ..."
The staticky but steady voice of the news cuts out.
Hissabeth: We already know where they're going and what they're gonna do. Why are you wasting time on old news?
Hissabeth: As I recall, we've even got a photo from Voyager 1 taken in 1990. It's stored somewhere in the Laplace archives.
Pointer: That's correct. They even have the development reports from Setun and the work done on meteor burst communication tech.
Pointer: But none of the archives mention the whereabouts of the Golden Records, do they?
Pointer: So there is a chance we'll hear some new clue this time around, like "According to the sudden decrease in Voyager 1's mass, it's been speculated that the Golden Records were intercepted by an unknown entity ..."
Hissabeth: "Intercepted," you make it sound like it was stolen by aliens, or space pirates!
Pointer: A space pirate? I doubt they would have any interest in some ordinary records.
Pointer: Now why don't you get to the point? What's so urgent that you had to switch off the radio?
Hissabeth: Oh, I'm making a video. I didn't want the sound drowning out the recording.
Hissabeth: Should be quiet enough now.
April 1986, Plesetsk Cosmodrome
Hissabeth, Laplace Researcher.
So, why was I mad enough to join this project? Call it a matter of personal interest.
Правда?
"Really"?
Let me introduce myself in a little more detail, in case you're shocked when you get your first look at me.
Snake I: Are we there yet? Drats! This is no way to travel! Let me just slither please.
Snake V: We don't have a choice. We're stuck with this most unfortunate mode of transportation.
Introducing two of the nine siblings of the Dubois family, always loudly at odds and proud of it.
Thanks to the cold weather, the others're still brumating, so they haven't yet tested my patience.
Footsteps grow nearer, prompting them to look around for their source.
Receptionist: Welcome. Let me walk you to your office.
Receptionist: Your ID card, please.
Snake I: Hiss.
Receptionist: Oh, my apologies!
My patience just ran out.
The snake twists its body away with agility, but not fast enough. It is forced to clamp its mouth shut.
Hissabeth: Thank you for showing me the way.
Hissabeth: Why don't we speed up a bit? This place feels as cold as a goddamn morgue. I can barely talk without shivering.
When we get to the office, I'll warn them not to scare our colleagues for the fourth time.
Receptionist: Of course. We'll ensure the heat is kept on 24/7 inside your office. Laplace never neglects the little details.
In truth, as a reptile enthusiast, she's just trying to hide the rudeness of her surprise at seeing the cute snakes.
Receptionist: Here we are. Go ahead and knock on the door. Ms. Pointer should be expecting you.
Receptionist: By the way, since you mentioned the cold weather, do you need a thermostat for your lovely pets?
Receptionist: We try our best to meet all of our researchers' needs.
Hissabeth: Oh, we're all good. My coat works as a kind of thermo-regulated insulator. It should be fine.
Receptionist: Understood. And please note that the spaceport here is just a part of our local research collaboration. Laplace's official branch in Plesetsk is actually further north, right on the edge of the Arctic Circle.
Receptionist: It has a strict security policy. So, you'll need to file an application before visiting. There's no guarantee it will be approved either.
Receptionist: Welcome to the Plesetsk Cosmodrome.
Just a few steps out, the receptionist turns back, drawn by a faint sound.
The little golden-scaled snake flicks its tongue at her, and—was that a wink?
Receptionist: Goodbye, little hissie.
The researcher disappears down the hall, and cheerful voices ring out again.
Snake I: You know what, Two, I think the staff here are more accommodating than most types we meet.
Hissabeth: Or, are you just being more of a jerk than usual?
Hissabeth: Now stay out of trouble, and don't call me by my number again.
Hissabeth: Just so you know, I'm perfectly willing to tie you up by the tails if I start hearing about any "missing lab rats."
The door swings open, preventing the escalation of their family feud.
Hissabeth: ...?
Pointer: I knew I heard someone talking behind the door. Glad my ears don't need tuning.
Pointer: Please, come in. Are you the new researcher on this project?
Hissabeth: You've got it. So, I take it you're one of my new colleagues?
The new colleague's attitude seems cold to the touch.
But once she steps inside and takes in the whole setup, she realizes that details like that won't matter too much.
Hissabeth: Two devices, two chairs, and two standard-issue desks.
Hissabeth: Is it just the two of us?
Pointer: I expected you to be more rigorous as a fellow Laplace researcher! According to official records, we have a third researcher on the team, an attache from the local government. In theory anyway, no one has ever seen or heard of them. It's just a name on the noticeboard.
Pointer: However, if you insist on ignoring our esteemed coworker—who I mention out of deep respect for our local partners—then correct, it's just the two of us.
Pointer: So, what do you think of our setup? It's not so bad. At least, we're in full control of our budget.
Pointer: Although, I recommend setting those budget expectations low.
Hissabeth: Cool, cool. Everything's more or less as I expected—an undervalued project in extraordinary times.
Hissabeth: What kind of bizarre mind hatched up the idea of teleporting supplies directly into space?
Pointer: Do you believe our goals are unrealistic?
Hissabeth: Not at all. Only eclectic, let's say. And I've always been a fan of eclectic theories. They are often a stepping stone to true discovery.
Hissabeth: I'm certain that the combination of arcanum and science will one day make up the core of our civilization. We're not there yet, but ...
Pointer: It's only a matter of time. Perhaps this project will be the next leap forward.
Pointer: So far, the teleport disk we've developed is functional but unstable. It's a one-way ticket capable of travel only within a short distance. But if we can improve its range and stability, I calculate its value to society to be potentially earth-shaking.
Hissabeth: Looks like we'll make for quite a team.
She picks up the stack of files from the desk, clearing a small spot to lean against.
Hissabeth: But before that, we'll have to make sure our project isn't shut down before it can begin, which means we need to cook up something worthwhile to put in our report.
Pointer: To that end, I know you're an expert in aerospace materials. Are there any specific specimens you need? I'll do what I can to source them for you.
Pointer: Oh, but be quick. Our resource applications must be submitted today. The evaluation process and all other little details mean it will take some time to arrive.
Hissabeth: Let me see. Hmm, no, I don't have any particular needs for now. How do you feel about fish?
Even Pointer's keen analytical mind struggles to keep up with the rapid topic change.
She pauses a full three seconds before answering.
Pointer: They're fine, as are those pets you've got dangling in your hair.
Hissabeth: Cool. Looks like I've come to exactly the right place. No nosy layabouts around to moan about my hobbies.
Hissabeth: Speaking of those "pets," they're not really pets. I remember mentioning them in my profile. You didn't read it, hmm?
Hissabeth: "Whatever, so long as they can hold their own!" Then you threw the file into the trash. Am I right?
Pointer: It wasn't quite so dramatic, but yes. I briefly scanned it for your field of expertise and experience. Nothing else mattered to me.
Hissabeth: Still, you should get to know your new colleagues. I'm a Melusine. We have snakes for hair. So, they're not pets. They're my siblings.
Hissabeth: Technically, you've got yourself a grand total of nine new coworkers. Surprise!
Pointer: That is certainly new information. It's unfortunate that Laplace doesn't pay out their Sharpodonties by head.
Hissabeth: Maybe I can convince them to go in for every two heads?
Pointer: I wouldn't predict your chances to be high, but a larger food allowance seems appropriate, given your additional mouths to feed.
Hissabeth: Mind requesting me a corner office? I need a lot of space for my fish tank. Pets and plants help me cool off.
Pointer: Whatever you want, let's just finish the report as soon as possible. Then we can apply for additional office space—one room for each of us. Deal?
Hissabeth: Deal.
Agreement reached. Pointer lifts her right hand.
A snake stretches forward to gently tap her palm with its head.
Pointer: Nice working with you.
