1987, Plesetsk Cosmodrome
3 months before the "Storm"
Three, two, one, cut.
And just so we're clear, everything went well as usual.
The video in this disk, to put it simply, is too much for anyone to handle.
Guess what it's used for. Go on. Give me the most ridiculous answer you can think of.
A little tip: think like a modern person. The development of technology allows us to save a lot of things as digital data nowadays.
Yes, it's a last record. A video is much more convenient than sitting down with a pen.
She places the data card on the table. It immediately draws in all eyes.
Hissabeth: Data secured. Pointer, do you want me to add your part to the video now? Or maybe later?
Pointer: Preferably never. This whole "last record" thing is your passion. Besides, I know nothing about material sciences.
Hissabeth: But you spent so much time transcoding the incantation. You simply must show up in my video. Please, I insist.
Hissabeth: We're a team. We shouldn't miss anyone's perspective, non?
Pointer: Yes.
Even for her, long hours can wear things down. There's a trace of fatigue in her otherwise calm reply, a lag in her response.
Hissabeth: Superbe, then let's take a look at our work so far and learn from our mistakes, well, my mistakes.
Pointer and I had been working on the teleport disk at the Plesetsk Cosmodrome.
More specifically, our interim mission was to determine how to transport supplies to space stations and spacecraft using teleport incantations. The ultimate goal being to achieve stable, safe, and long-distance teleportation to outer space viable for living organisms.
The project had been going smoothly until we received some bad news.
Due to a policy change at Laplace, most projects in Plesetsk were being suspended.
Fortunately, the bad news was followed by a small amount of good. Madam Lucy said if we could send a monitor to space to collect data when the "Storm" arrived ...
We'd be allowed to continue with our project! It was a vital opportunity to make our contribution to deciphering the "Storm"!
There were only three major issues to solve: manpower, energy supply, and determination.
As you can see, the first two issues have been solved by our new members. Thank you all for your help.
Especially our brave little astronaut.
The plan is now simple. She'll fly into space, reach the required altitude, launch the monitor, and zero in on the correct coordinates, and then, she'll contact ground control to come home.
Her arcane skill will protect her from any possible danger caused by pressure or heat in the vacuum of space.
Then finally, she will activate the teleport disk, and we will activate our receiver on the ground.
Ta-da! Everyone will arrive in Laplace's Arctic Branch safe and sound to acclaim and accolades from all around the scientific world!
Well, that's a simple framework of the plan. But we still have tons of minor problems to tackle first.
Our top priority is improving the long-distance positioning accuracy of the teleport disk. We've already begun testing our latest prototypes.
Though the last test didn't end well.
We're still searching for the cause of that particular catastrophic error. But we won't let it stop us. This was no more than an inevitable roadblock, a small accident on the way to technological progress.
Pointer: Hissabeth, if we are going to have any chance of learning from our mistakes, we can't run away from our problems.
Alright, alright. That last test was a week ago.
Hissabeth: Same as the last time. Though we've made some improvements, we still need an intelligent creature to run the test.
Hissabeth: And I guess it'll be me again.
Name Day: Are you sure? Considering the danger and your value to the project, I think you ought to let me ...
Hissabeth: How can I ask anyone to try my invention if I wouldn't use it myself?
Hissabeth: Now, what are you waiting for? Get to the safe zone. Oh, and remember to secure the blast door.
Name Day: Ms. Kiperina asked about the test yesterday as she was feeding the fish.
Name Day: She said she's been able to control her power more now. You'd be much safer with her help.
Name Day: We're a team, right? We sink or swim together.
As the clock strikes the hour, a small figure peeks in through the door.
Kiperina: My training just finished. I hope I'm not late, Ms. Hissabeth.
Hissabeth: Well, we did have a pretty bad accident, but thanks to Kiperina's arcane skill, no one was too badly hurt. Windsong is one cool teacher, and that girl's a phenomenal student.
Hissabeth: The margin of error remained high, a significant problem for sure. But we'd learned our lesson after spending all that time recovering in the ward.
Hissabeth: That is, that we should prepare for the worst, so that those who survive will know what to do with, umm, our legacy.
Hissabeth: Our last record matters, my friend.
Snake I: Two, I don't think that's what Pointer meant when she told us to "learn from our mistakes."
Before Hissabeth can pinch its mouth shut, the little snake ducks back into her hair.
Pointer: ...
Pointer: Again, I emphasize that safety must come first in the lab. It is my first and most important protocol.
Pointer: Windsong and I left for all of ten minutes, and by the time we got back, each and every one of you ended up on death's door!
Pointer: And now I find out you've even petitioned for a postponed evacuation. This is getting ridiculous!
Hissabeth: You know how tight the schedule is now that the "Storm" Emergency Plan has been activated, don't you?
Hissabeth: The silver lining is that now we know that we have exactly three months. We can still optimize the procedure and improve the disk and ...
Pointer: Enough, Sylvie!
Pointer cuts her off. Her tone is serious.
Name Day: Oh, c'mon, friends. Can we just calm down and discuss our schedule over dinner?
Name Day: I believe Ms. Pointer was only trying to suggest a better plan.
Pointer: I am. I suggest we stop all work on this project immediately.
The young man is caught off balance, unable to find the words to ease the tension in the room.
Hissabeth: What? Why? The situation really isn't that dire.
Kiperina: Ms. Hissabeth is right. We shouldn't be discouraged over one accident, Ms. Pointer. The damage wasn't too severe.
Pointer: Only three months left, yet our latest "achievement" was a total catastrophe.
Pointer: I know what you're all thinking. That the odds are still good, and it's more or less safe to continue. But all that is a weighted gamble.
Pointer: Nothing matters more than your lives.
She knows this all too well. This is not her first time making bold gambles.
Researcher I: Pointer, what do you think the odds are really?
Pointer: Without diving into the calculations, it's around a 70% chance in theory. But my logic is screaming something else in my ear.
Researcher II: You ... you don't have to take that risk, Pointer.
Pointer: I know what I'm doing. Nothing's guaranteed in the world of science.
Pointer: I ...
She closes her eyes, interrupting the playthrough of her memories.
Pointer: The risk is too high. I can't allow it.
Hissabeth: But it's like we always say: there is nothing guaranteed in the world of science. You never know before you take that fateful step.
Such a firm, matter-of-fact statement. It sounds exactly like something the old Pointer might have said.
Pointer: My analysis points to a dangerous level of uncertainty in this project. The price of failure, even optimistically, could be much worse than a few days in recovery. There could be more permanent injuries. You could even ...
The "Storm."
Pointer scans the room. None of them have known failure—not yet—and they shouldn't have to.
Pointer: You've seen how things, places, people just disappear in the "Storm."
Pointer: You need to stop this insanity before that happens to us. Don't you understand?
Hissabeth: I really don't. Why should we stop?
She thinks for a moment, then a spark of inspiration flashes across her face.
Hissabeth: No, you're right. We shouldn't pretend as if it's normal to risk our lives for this. At the end of the day, if we die, our research dies with us.
Hissabeth: But if something were to happen to the team, you would be the one to survive. That's why I want you to keep our records, to take down everything in case the worst happens.
Hissabeth: Here.
Pointer looks down at the data card.
Machines are only capable of faithfully recording and replaying data. They can't interpret meaning. They certainly cannot understand the reckless choices of human beings.
Those who come after might skim through the logs and learn how the team met, chose, collaborated, and parted ways.
But what about everything outside the frame? The temperature of the lab, the taste of a restaurant's signature dish, the hesitation she feels right now. No device can preserve those details—only memory can.
Some need to move forward. Others need to stay behind.
She doesn't look up and never reaches for the disk. She's made up her mind.
Pointer: I won't take it, and I won't submit this petition for you. I can't stand by and let you kill yourselves.
Pointer: I'm done. I quit.
