Freeport 10's Research Deck: Commonwealth Research and Development Wing.

[The_Normal_Anomaly]

DD, continuing flipping through his datapad entries, eventually finds one and stops on it.

"Mwahahaha." he laughs aloud with an only partially forced sound.

Clearing his throat, he continues "Hey, umm, Achille and umm" forgets her name ", you, have a look. I think I've about got the fur problem licked anyway."

He gets ready to fling the datapad across the room to the other two, aiming it for whomever seems more ready to catch it upon his winding up for the obvious throw.

When one of them looks ready enough he looses the datapad.

The projections contained within yield field generation of a more strand based nature

"Still has some bugs to work out, and scale application will require a lot of fine tuning, but as a base this algorithm should work, I think."

[Occam Razor]

Jennifer Perez completely ignored Achilles statement about how she was dressed and looked like she was awaking from a trance. After he had finished speaking, she answered. "Antimatter? I considered it... but that's aswell dangerous. Imagine the hardware to get damaged, it would explode violently. If you don't have a problem with that I have no problem with creating a small reactor for this"

She turned around. "Gonna make a list with materials for Mr. de Vue then, for Antimatter Creation I could just disassemble some Antimatter Cannons... Yes, that should work..." She nodded. "Antimatter, yes. Gotta try some different Cannons to see which one has the most efficient antimatter creation system... Yes, thank you, Mr. Nadeau" She gave him an imitated smile, then turned around again and continued her work.

---

"Common sense is the best distributed commodity in the world, for every man is convinced that he is well supplied with it."
René Descartes

[Enkidu]

Achille's hand scissored around the projectile PDA before it imbedded itself into his newly ball-less eyesocket - or at least he would have if he hadn't completely failed to issue in any form of reasonable compromise for his lack of depth perception.

"...Ah, Fric<expletive>!" Achille cussed as the damnable pad rebounded from his temples as his shield flared. "...Can you not aim man? Argh." Anger gently balling from his brain, Achille groped around for the datapad, eventually pouncing upon it with considerably lesser grace when compared to the feline under present construction, his expression softening as it's contents unfolded before him.

"...Sournois, you, well - quite excepting the fact you can't throw for the contents of your credit chip, are a genius after our own. As to this, fur, of yours, well. The coding seems roughly adequate, and, well, the projection is exceptional."

"...Say, It's not likely to incinerate my hand when I run an active simulation with it, eh Sounois? Please tell me you've solved the eight-thousand degree hand-melter-of-a-scald problem; I'm rapidly running out of technicians."

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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(Links pending redevelopment).

[Moberg]

Ernst Reinhardt enters the research deck in his usual calm and reserved manner, with deliberate steps. Although quite unusual, he decided to enter the room with a mellow black suit atop of a carefully chosen white shirt. Fitting black trousers and classy black polished shoes give his appearance a finishing touch.

His calm walking was quickly interrupted by the show that occured infront of his analyzing eyes.
He noticed that something hair-like, probably a projection, was present on a workstation with somebody - actually two of them - standing beneath it.. He walked up to the three persons which he recognizes as somepeople calling themselves or being called Doctor Devious, Jenniufer Perez and, of course, Achille.

Simply not caring whether his sudden appearance would startle anybody, he started - as usual - to voice everything that comes to mind.

"So.. is this a mere projection? What's the surface to project the light onto a constantly changing environment. It's not like it would stop in thin air.
On another note, it looks quite lively if I'm honest. Is it supposed to look natural or artificial? No judging which would be better, of course.


The Rheinlander turns to Achille and intended to initiate a handshake, but then reminded himself about the possibly malicious device that is apparently protecting Achille quite well. He quickly pulls the hand back.

"N'Abend, haven't been here yet, as far as I am aware. Quickly locked myself in the small labs right beneath and started working. Say, anything I can do here when I am not busy roasting, freezing and breeding little parasites?

[Enkidu]

Achille beamed like a expansion joint, thoughts shining in the pool of his eye. "Ah, another accomplice to feather the limbs of my temporary right and my temporary left. How expedient."

"...Well Reinhardt, that entirely depends if your scientific expertise runs beyond roasting, freezing, and breeding little parasites, hmm? Not to belittle your field of course, I'm a great admirer of those who seek to tinker with the general fundaments of life, which actually what renders your - rather sudden - appearance all the more fortuitous."

He proffered the PDA. "...You might wish to be reading, ah, scanning, this little nugget eh? It may prove enlightening."

Achille expression flickered down into the vulpine as Earnst lifted the tablet from his arms, quietly and quizzically Earnst face as thought in bothered askance - as though one might when struggling to decipher a particularly gripping maslanka puzzle, and not the features of a comrade.

"Good eh?" He interjected, without giving time for a reply. "Magnificent, I knew you'd admire it hm? But, Sir, before another word is uttered, so enlighten me..."

"...I need a man to write a program, or at least, dictate basic features to a VI better equipped to do so. So tell me ami; how sharp are your skills at veterinary behavioural science?"

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).

[Moberg]

Merely skimming about the contents of the PDA until Achille interfered, not taking his eyes from the object resting in his hand.

"Virtual Intelligence? Establishing the foundations for such an outstanding project? I am aware of the basics, can do -some- things about it. With a VI supporting me in this task, certainly possible.

The probably more interesting part ... 'veterinary behavioural science' is nothing I had ever needed a specialization for. The obvious and logical things, aswell as experience are everything I have ever needed in the past decades.
So, decent, but nothing special. As mentioned above, with the assistance of the VI it's quite possible."

He focuses his vision on the PDA in his hands entirely, short glimpses amongst the information as the lines and numbers appear from the bottom of the screen and disappear at the top.

"... which leads me to my final question. Is that going to be the emulation of an animal?"

[Occam Razor]

Jennifer Perez stood up again, turned around and moved to the newcomer. "Hello there. I'm Jennifer Perez, and also the one working on the hardware and the 'intelligence' of these pets." She scrutinized him interested, then looked back up and absently moved her hair back over her ear and the small chromium shape over it at her head.

"Mr Reinhardt, welcome in this project then" She smiled self-confidently. "If you need anything, speak with Mr. de Vue. He's covering the logistics. If you work at the behaviour of the pets, then you won't come around working with me. Do you have any questions?"

---

"Common sense is the best distributed commodity in the world, for every man is convinced that he is well supplied with it."
René Descartes

[Moberg]

Ernst faced Jennifer, examining her carefully aswell, then nods. "Thanks, Frau Perez. A shame I can't work... *he chuckles* here.. where do I do instead? Where do I find this Mr. de Vue? I suppose I can use any of the shared resources here to start with my work, right?". He scanned the room for anything notable that looked like it would be his 'workstation', so to say, but could not find anything remarkable. He put the PDA Achille gave him away
"I'd also like to know what kind of pets you planned, to create some subroutines that'll be specialized for each respective type, but all integrated into the general program.

[The_Normal_Anomaly]

He raises his hand, seeming to feel a little injured that the conversation immediately moved on, even as he was about to respond.


He clears his throat with an obtrusive "Ahem."

"No, I have not solved the hand melting issue. I've been down here, what, twenty minutes? I've not had time enough to figure out how to make pure energy something I can cuddle my face into."

He suddenly realizes his tone was perhaps a little too annoyed. Speaking a little more sheepishly

"I'll get it done, but, well, time. I need to wait on the current set of computations to complete before I move on, alright?"

He goes to look at the datapad in his hand, realizing that it is no longer in his hand.

"Umm, can I, uh, get that back now?"

He steps closer to avoid the need to throw the datapad back at himself.

[Enkidu]

Achille laboriously waggled a slender index; by way of interruption. Whether it proved functional or not made little difference, for he'd already opened his mouth. "Woah, Sournois, calm your frustration before it overwhelms you to the point of sending you flying into the nearest available receptacles, oui? I'm not demanding divinity; clearly you can take as long as you require, so long as you actually get something done, of course."

“...Anyway, for the sake of remaining suitably motivated it’s probably in our collective interest to lay that petit particular to the roadside, and instead focus upon the immediate.”

He coughed dryly, by way of diversion. The Good Doctor clearly wasn’t the only one ill-at-ease with the inherent impracticalities that a benign hard field implied. But yet again, that was what the grin was for.

“....However, what is impossibility when compared to ingenuity, eh? Devious, permit your aspirations to air themselves. Remember, you are a genius, a Greek God, a divinity among lesser men as is everybody else assembled within this rather expansive retreat of ours; or at least, I assumed so anyway. Did you never watch cartoons when you were an infant, no? Never been indoctrinated to believe in your aspirations – yourself even? Come on man, you’re a bloody Machiavellian ba<expletive>stard (or so you think yourself), and a man who holds my utmost respect, as do all of you, women and men. So, time to live up to it, oui?”

And with that he delivered The Good Doctor a considerable thump of encouragement.

“...So Sournois. Remember, this is your dream, your goal, your reason to be; in short your field. What’s that I’m alluding to you may query? Well Sir (I would reply): nothing more than the reality you paint yourself with. You are a man of science (unless I’ve entirely misjudged you) and despite your occasional tendency to bungle you overtly aspire to be some sort of felonistic master criminal. In short, you want attention; recognition. Think of Fort Bush, eh, and Hard Hands? Why did you do it; because you desired the focus you’ve found lacking throughout most of your life. Think of your pseudonym – why not merely Benny Vergillio or Vergillio Conway, eh? Again, the aforementioned.”

“...Sir, you are one of us. You desire focus, and you will receive. If this project... ah, scheme proves successful, then I’ll be happy to paint your name across every pamphlet pertinent to it. So go break the laws of physics hmm, and fulfil your dreams.”

“...You may merely look at Sir Rheinhart for guidance, Doctor. Earnst is a virologist for crying out loud, but already he’s consciously deliberating the practicalities of animating accurately the physical life actions, mannerisms and all possible fields of movement for an advanced mammal (a cat, by the way Earnst). So, if you wish to be you can be, look to your workfellows.”

He smiled syphly, rolling his jaw. “Oh, ah, Earnst... return the PDA to The Good Doctor over here before he walks into your front. Merci.”

“...And as for Mrs Perez, well cheri, you do possess a woman’s intuition, don’t you? You appear organised enough.”

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

Information | Recruitment | Message Dump |
Feedback | Diplomatic channel

(Links pending redevelopment).