EVE Fiction

Michael Priboj saw himself in the mirror for the last time that morning, trying to ignore the buzzing of the mechanical servos in the camera drone in the corner. For the last time he saw Amarrian features contrasting harshly with the series of scars and welts crisscrossing his face. And for the last time he rubbed the beard he was forced to endure.

The experiments he was subjected to had violated him, internally and externally, deeper mentally and emotionally than anything The Empire could’ve ever done. The Jovians had been studying him, every moment of every day, poking and prodding at every part of his body. They began with tools which looked similar to ones used by Amarrian holders during slave interrogations, then progressed to tools which should’ve been the things of Sansha nightmares. After that, blunt and simple tools which expanded to fill internal cavities, sharp tools composed of needles so thin as to cause no pain, brash objects used to wedge body parts against flat surfaces… all used to no effect. Here recently, no tools were used. He’d just wake up strapped to a table or a chair, and be subjected to questions from faces he couldn’t see, faces he shouldn’t see, and faces he thought he wouldn’t see.

He never answered them.

Michael washed his face again; the fourth time since he’d activated the sink in his cell. He still had the scars and welts. He still heard the humming of the Gallente camera drone in the corner and frowned in annoyance.

He’d taken all their experiments. He’d silently cursed them as they asked him their stupid questions about rocks, food, dancing, how to laugh, what tears are made of… his frown turned into a grimace of disgust.

---

Milan sat on the beach, sand gritting beneath his toes as he wiggled them absent mindedly. The sun was just beginning the daily trek towards dusk. He smiled. A camera drone buzzed contentedly nearby. It weaved through the air, darting to and fro, throwing up waves of sand and surf as it flew.

The camera drone was, as would appear to the outside observer, broken. But, Milan knew the drone was only playing, and didn’t mind the harmless fun. He figured the whole point of vacations was to have fun.

The camera drone would dive towards the ground, then dart to the side suddenly. Each time this repeated, the drone would get closer and closer to the ground and would have less time to react. More often than not it would slam into the sand, dig itself out, and start again from the beginning.

“It’s good for children’s dexterity to be increased through understandable and educational, yet simple and fun, games; even if they’re invented ad hoc”, Milan thought as he smiled yet again.

---

Michael woke up on the floor of his cell, the noxious fumes of his stomach contents jerking him into adrenaline infused consciousness before his eyes opened. The mirror on the wall was shattered. A shard laying within arm’s length beckoning softly.

The Gallente camera drone was torn from the corner, its wires trailing from the torn wall panel. Energetic sparks clicked sharply from the drone as he sat upright. The infernal motor buzzing was gone.

---

Milan reclined lazily on the leather sofa in his office, sipping a glass of Zydrine wine. The wine was a self-awarded gift for his birthday. He was browsing through the works of a long dead Caldari artist (back when art was made for its own sake and not for profitable sales). This particular artist, Mr. Jainiko Zhan’baki was renowned during his time for both his fractal equations, the graphing of which produced said art, and his abhorrent lifestyle of drugs and debauchery.

He didn’t hear the office door hiss open and closed. He didn’t see little Tik, the camera drone, enter close to the floor. He didn’t see Tik fly silently under the sofa he reclined on. He also didn’t see the reflection of Tik in his datapad, as Tik flew up the wall behind him.

What he did see, however, was Tik fall from the ceiling and land, a little too hard, squarely into his lap.
Milan, ignoring the sharp pain in his groin, smiled and asked, “Tik, what’re you doing up? It’s past your recharge cycle start time.”

Tik’s camera iris closed and opened a few times, almost as if to blink sleep from its eye. Tik rolled over onto Milan’s chest and hummed contentedly.

“I love you too, Tik. But it’s time for you to recharge. We’ve got a fun filled day tomorrow”, Milan replied with a tone of both laughter and reprimand. Much of the same tone a parent would take when finding their child doing something both adorable and yet, against the rules.

Tik’s internal storage compartment opened and a small stone object rolled out. Tik grabbed it quickly with his manipulator arm and held it up for Milan to examine. The object was iridescent, reflecting a rainbow of colors throughout the visible spectrum when rotated. It was a metal crystal of some form, squares built upon squares.
Milan’s ocular implant found the metal to have a very low melting point, tainted with carbon particulates (no doubt the result of the heating implement used to craft the object), and was tarnished in the presence of oxygen. It was the tarnish which was iridescent.

“Bismuth? Did you make this yourself?” Milan asked. Tik hummed once, softly and lazily, its power cells nearly depleted. Milan smiled and placed the bismuth crystal on the nearby table edge before picking up Tik and carrying him to his drone bay.

“How did Tik know I liked fractals?” Milan wondered silently, too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice Tik’s manipulator arm gently grasping his finger.