Masks
A researcher is called in to help uncover the secrets of a mysterious race, but finds their technology may have more in store for him than he bargained ...
Once again it's been a while since I've uploaded anything here and I feel kind of bad, but I've had this one on FA a little while and thought it should make its way here, too.
Marked this one as "adult" for some suggestive bits.
Interstellar transit zones were rarely the nicest areas on any station, and here was no exception. Little more than a long gallery with airlocks along one side and access gates leading to the station along the other, with a few rows of uncomfortable seating in the center, it was just meant as a temporary place to wait between transports. A couple had come and gone since he had gotten there, himself, and watching the generally tired looking travelers shuffle from one airlock to the other didn't provide much in the way of entertainment. Screens displaying news stories of one type or another didn't help the monotony much either.
When his outgoing transport arrived - punctual to the minute - he couldn't help but to breathe a little sigh of relief. Airlock doors slid open with a faint hiss, and a middle aged man wearing a utilitarian gray military uniform stepped out and made his way over. “Doctor Igera?"
Bax Igera stood, a man somewhere on the verge between youth and middle age, himself, managing a wan smile. “Yeah, that's me."
“Pleasure to meet you. Colonel Ptilam," the military man as he came up close, offering an extended hand. “Can I help you with your belongings?"
Igera shrugged and motioned to the small bag that he was holding. “I pack light, I think I can manage it myself."
Ptilam nodded curtly. “Have it your way. You've been waiting here long enough, so why don't we just get going?" He turned on his heel and began to head back toward the same airlock that he had just exited from.
“Ah, about that. Where exactly are we going?"
“Classified," the military man said, matter-of-factly. “But you've already signed the non-disclosure agreements, so you already know that. Don't worry though, we can dispense with the secrecy in just a moment when we're on the transport."
Igera responded with a little nod and strode along behind his escort. They crossed the threshold into the airlock and through to the transport, the brightly lit corridor giving way to a darker and somewhat muted space as they entered the transport itself. Gray and utilitarian, like the uniform that Ptilam wore. At least the seats looked to be a little more comfortable and maintained, and he settled into one of them when he was invited.
The colonel brushed his fingers against a control panel. “Ptilam to bridge. Cargo is acquired, let's head out."
For a moment there was no further conversation, and Igera simply sat with his belongings in his lap, listening to the sounds of the transport. The hushed rasp of the outer door closing, the faint hum of engines coming alive through the hull plating, and the subtle shift of his senses when the ship slipped into FTL. At that point he looked back to his companion with a quizzical look.
“So, Doctor. What do you know about species 716-B?"
Igera furrowed his brow for a moment. “The rubber lizards?" He used the more common, if somewhat fanciful, name for the species that had only recently been discovered. “Not very much, not that anyone knows very much. Why?"
Ptilam sat down in a nearby seat, smoothing a palm over his head as he relaxed. “We're heading to a nearby system, AF Leporis. Unremarkable place, gas giant and a few smaller bodies, no signs of life. Recon survey recently found a small structure in orbit around the gas giant that hadn't been there before. Signs point to it being from 716."
“That's fascinating I'm sure, but what has that got to do with me?"
“Well, the structure is pretty much abandoned but they left some kit behind, and we're hoping to learn as much as we can about them from it. Figured we could use an exobiologist on the research team, and that's you."
Igera frowned lightly. “Well you've got the wrong exobiologist then. If it's 716, you want Doctor Barra from the Heyers Institute. She's the closest thing we've got to an expert on them, as I understand it."
“We had Barra," Ptilam said, shooting him a bit of a dubious look. “She decided not to be a part of the team anymore."
He had met Dr. Barra once, at a conference, but knew her more from her work. She wasn't the kind of person that would drop what ought to have been a chance of a lifetime. He scoffed softly at the idea under his breath. “Decided not to be a part of the team?"
The colonel rolled his shoulders. “Yep. Her, along with one of the engineers. Just up and decided they were done. Sent a communique to the head of the research team and said her heart wasn't in it. Booked passage on the first transport out of the station and was gone before anyone could try and talk her out of it."
“That's unbelievable," Igera protested.
“Maybe, but it's what she did. Both of 'em. Took their research with 'em too. That's why we've moved the effort off the station and we're just going to conduct it on site. In case anyone else gets any wild ideas about running off with their research," he added, frowning.
“I suppose that explains the secrets then. I suppose that also makes me something of your prisoner."
“Hardly," Ptilam said with a snort. “You signed a non-disclosure agreement, not enlistment papers. You're still a civilian and free to go as you wish, just say the word. This way, though, we can keep an eye on what you take with you."
Igera shrugged. “Fair enough," he offered. He felt a little uneasy at the prospect of being at the mercy of the military, but the idea of participating in some kind of on site research did pique his interest. It was certainly more thrilling than cataloging specimens back at the university. “Very well. What more can you tell me about this research team? What are our objectives? What's this structure we're going to?"
“You'll get a full briefing shortly after we arrive, along with the new engineer. The rest of the team can get you up to speed. But for now I can tell you, it doesn't look like a ship. Small station perhaps. No engines other than station keeping thrusters, no weapons, not much in the way of systems. No one on board, and most of the place looks abandoned. Some computer systems and a few other bits of their tech. Otherwise, the place looks abandoned.
“Job of the team is to gather as much info as we possibly can. As you'd already know, we know precious little about 716, other than they've started showing up somewhat more frequently along the outer edges of our territory. Mostly at independent trading posts. We know that the Geil have had contact with them, but they refuse to share any info. We've bumped into their ships a few times and they've yet to show any hostility, but they also aren't exactly rolling out the welcome mat. Attempts at communications have been unsuccessful.
“By all appearances, they seem to be quite technologically advanced. We'd like to make contact with these people and hopefully make friends with them, if that's possible. Oh," he paused, handing over an unlocked tablet. “Here's all of the information that we do have on them. Some images from traders, a few scans we've been able to take at a distance. You'll want to familiarize yourself with this before we get there."
Igera accepted the pad, briefly looking at it before lifting his gaze again. “So this is all about establishing communications? Seems an awful, ah, civilian sort of endeavor for the military."
Ptilam offered a thin smile at that. “We're not all shoot first, talk later, you know? Our role in this operation is primarily security. There are concerns about why Barra and the others abandoned the project, what information they have taken and who they have taken it to. We're largely here just to make sure that doesn't happen again. And assist your research team as we can."
“Mmh." Igera pursed his lips and glanced down at the tablet, flicking his finger over the screen. “How long until we arrive?"
“Just over an hour. It's not too far."
He nodded lightly. “Well. I suppose I had best get reading then."
“We've set up something of a conference room up ahead here. The rest of the team, including the new engineers, have already arrived. We're the last ones so as soon as we get there, we'll go ahead and launch into a short series of presentations."
They had only just arrived at the structure that was supposed to be from 716 a few moments before, and Ptilam was already escorting him to some kind of meeting. They had passed through a few corridors of what was definitely alien architecture but rather unassuming at the same time. Sterile and utilitarian, devoid of anything one might call decoration, no visible signage to indicate where they were going, or what anything was. There was little more to see other than a long corridor with fairly minimal lighting as they went.
Igera looked around briefly and then cocked his head. “Presentations?"
Ptilam nodded briefly. “Mostly designed to get you and the knew guys up to speed on what's been going on. You'll be expected to talk briefly on what you've learned in your reading. Don't worry - most of them have already heard the information already so it's not like they're going to be grilling you."
A brief sigh preceded a faintly annoyed look. “Nothing like being asked to present without any preparation."
Just as there was no time for preparation, there was also no time for discussion on the matter. His military escort turned on a heel though an open hatch to the left, leading straightaway into a room where there was a large table that had been set up, surrounded by a dozen or so people who were mostly engaged in some kind of conversation. The table and chairs around it were obviously recent additions, as was a large display projector installed on the table. Along the sides of the room there were a number of racks set up, and set on those racks were what appeared to be several dozen masks.
Igera paused and blinked at the sight. This must be the 716 tech, he thought to himself. The masks looked to be made of a dark rubber-like material, shaped to fit what one might expect for a reptilian head, and perfectly matching the images that he had seen in the reference material that he'd been studying. Largely identical and unremarkable, yet he felt a strange uptick in his curiosity when he glanced over the racks.
His momentary curiosity was interrupted when Ptilam spoke up. “Looks like the whole crowd is assembled. This here is Bax Igera, he'll be our new team exobiologist. You've all been instructed to prepare a brief summary of the work completed thus far. We'll move around the table clockwise, beginning with our resident computer expert," he said, motioning to a middle aged woman sitting at one corner of the table.
Before she could speak up, however, a man with unkempt hair to her left interrupted. “We've all done this before, it's a waste of time. Why are we doing this again?"
Ptilam made his way to an empty spot at the table, motioning for Igera to take a spot next to him. “Our new friend here hasn't heard any of it. Neither have Enstrom or Gaius. So we'll all introduce ourselves, what we're working on, and help get them all up to speed. But of course you knew that already," he added, shooting a dour expression at the man who responded only with a shrug.
After a brief moment to let the tension relax, the woman who had been originally addressed squared her shoulders and flicked her fingers over a tablet she held, bringing up what looked like some kind of schematic on the display. “Right. I'm Amii Zerev, lead computer technician. As most of you know, we've been working to interface with the computer system here on this structure. We have been able to determine that there is an intact computer core but have yet to determine an external interface. Scans indicate that the system is active and powered, and we estimate that it contains the equivalent of about 50 exabytes of storage space, but we are unable to determine the contents of that storage or, indeed, if there's anything of interest stored there at all. Recent surveys have discovered what could be some kind of computing nodes distributed throughout the structure, indicated here on the map in red. We're hoping these might provide some kind of interface or access point, but so far no luck. Wish I had more to share, but that's about it."
There was a series of little nods before eyes turned to the man with the unkempt hair. Before he spoke he pulled a pair of eyeglasses and put them on. Igera had not seen eyeglasses in years, and involuntarily blinked at the sight. “Ahem. All right. Rath Meyer, materials scientist and lead engineer. Since we can't interface with this damned ship or whatever it is we've been spending our time on the one piece of tech we can get our hands on. These."
The man motioned to the table, where Igera finally noticed that three of the masks had been laid out. Seen up close they were fairly unassuming. As before they seemed to be made of some kind of dark gray or black rubber like material, bearing minimal markings. Visors made of a clear material would provide the wearer with sight, and small circular ports looked like they might accommodate something like a filter or a respirator. The shape included backswept points as if to house ears, although fairly form fitting - he couldn't imagine how such a thing could be easy or comfortable to put on.
As he looked over the nearest mask, he felt the same spark of curiosity as before, a little more poignant, and then there was a strange sensation of being watched or observed, as if someone were looking over his shoulder. Before he could check, however, the scientist continued on his spiel and tore his attention away again. “There are hundreds of these, stored in dozens of rooms just like this. All of them are practically identical with only minor differences in size, shape or placement of the visor, or the like. Material is some kind of synthetic rubber, extremely durable and resistant to cutting. Visors are a type of silica glass, shock resistant and durable as well. Whole thing seems to be built to be durable, flexible, resistant to wear and unreactive to the environment.
“Inside each one are a couple of what look like small light emitters. Given the placement of these emitters we speculate that they are used to project images on the inside of the visor, something like a heads up display for the user. Each is powered by a small power source, but there's no sign of any interface or control unit, so we assume they probably function wirelessly. Each one seems to be emitting extremely low levels of EM radiation, suggesting some kind of standby functionality but we haven't been able to activate them or get them to do anything.
“Lastly they all have one or more built in ports of some kind. Given the live images we've seen, we're guessing these are for respirators or air hoses or something. Our best guess is these units are built to allow their operators to work hazardous or toxic environments. Big surprise there, huh?"
Meyer trailed off, obviously finished and unimpressed with his own explanation. In the brief moment of silence, Igera felt his attention wandering first to the mask on the table, and then again that odd sensation of someone watching him from behind - but again he was interrupted as Ptilam motioned toward him. “You're next, Igera."
He blinked and shook off the sensation, looking back down as his pad. A few images of 716 were displayed, and with a flick he transferred them to the main display. “Sorry. I'm Bax Igera, exobiologist. I've, uh, been reading this for the last hour, I'll share what I can."
There was a brief pause, and he looked around the table. A few eyes were watching him closely, but most seemed bored or disinterested. In a way it helped to alleviate the anxiety. “We don't know a lot about 716, other than a few images taken by third parties at trading outposts. Individuals that have been recorded have what appear to be reptilian body plans with a pointed snout and a tail. They appear to be generally between 100 and 120 centimeters in height and of a fairly slender build. Basic bio-scans have only been available from a distance but indicate that they have a skeletal structure and arrangement of internal organs not dissimilar to most humanoid species.
“They have never been observed without wearing what appear to be these environmental suits," he said, glancing up at the images on the display. There were only a handful available, and in each one they were clad entirely in what looked like form-fitting suits made of the same material as the masks, with little to no distinguishing features. “Hence they're commonly known by the 'rubber lizard' nickname. We had assumed these suits were owing to physiological differences, perhaps a standard oxygen atmosphere is unsuitable to them. However, this structure seems to have a pretty standard atmosphere as we see, so that's in question now. Unfortunately that's about it."
He barely had time to finish and indicate he was done before the man to his left, a rather thin and stern looking older man, took his turn. “Doctor Rans Horus, professor of xenoanthropology. Our team has been studying what we can of the culture of species 716, and in spite of very limited information from largely unwilling and uncooperative sources, we've been able to formulate some fascinating theories as to their societal structure.
“Of particular note is the homogeneity of the members of this species that have been encountered by traders to date. None have offered names or other identifying information and there has been no sign of any hierarchical structure in their observed groups. Individuals are clearly intelligent and act accordingly, but always seem to function on a task-focused basis. No members have been observed to act in any capacity of authority or decision making. Combined with the observed simplicity of their attire it is the opinion of my team that species 716 is likely an example of an eusocial species, much like bees or ants. The observed individuals are likely members of a worker caste, whose actions are likely directed by a higher caste of individuals that have yet to be recorded.
“Our hypothesis is reinforced by what once was thought to be an environmental suit, may simply be a uniform. The features of the uniform serve to anonymize the wearer and reinforce a sense of eusociality among the worker caste, allowing members to abstain from individual responsibilities and decision making in lieu of …"
While he was briefly interested in the ideas of how 716 society might operate, Igera was unable to stay focused on the man's voice for long. For one thing, it seemed he intended to drone on at length about the hypotheses that his team was making, but his eyes were again drawn to the masks on the table, pondering what their function might be. Again, as he pondered them, he began to feel that strange sensation of being watched. Slowly, he let his head turn and his eyes wander, first scanning over the table and the people arrayed around it, and then at the rows of masks that were tucked against the sides of the room.
It was then that he first saw it. His eyes were immediately drawn to one of them that was placed on the racks. There was nothing distinctive about it - it looked nearly identical to the dozens of others in the room. Nothing about the shape of the visor or the ears made it stand out from its neighbors. It wasn't placed in a particular way, either, such that it was pointed in his direction. Yet he felt weirdly like it was looking right at him, and he found it difficult to look away.
He let his eyes flick to some of the neighboring masks, and when he did he immediately felt his gaze drawn right back toward it. As he did, he was keenly aware that something felt off - his heart was racing, his breathing going shallow, and his palms felt sweaty. He felt anxious and had no idea why. Forcing his eyes downward, he glanced at his tablet and flicked through the controls to access a bio-scanner that he had with him. Sure enough, he was showing physical signs that didn't make sense - the increased heart rate was not just in his head.
The sounds of speech around him dulled into a kind of droning background noise as his attention was again inevitably pulled away and back to the rows of masks, and specifically that one that he had looked at before. Swallowing down a knot in his throat, he tried to figure out why it was pulling his gaze so hard. Try as he might, he could not find anything about it that looked different. He wasn't even sure how he was picking out the same one as before, except that he knew without a doubt that he was.
He had to know why. A little suggestion formed in the back of his mind, a suggestion that quickly grew into something like a compulsion - he had to go inspect it. Perhaps there was something that he would see on closer inspection, something that could reveal why it caught his attention, why it grabbed his gaze so firmly. Almost involuntarily, he set his hand on the edge of the table and began to push himself up out of his seat to stand.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder and tore him out of the reverie and back into the moment. Ptilam was looking at him expectantly. “Well? What do you think?"
For a brief second his mind went blank with confusion. As he looked around, he saw the various members of the research team in various states of getting up and leaving the table, a few of them engaged in different conversations, some of them already making their way out of the door. It looked as if the whole thing was done and everyone had given their presentations, even though he'd only seen fewer than half of them speak, as if the rest of the time had been lost in a blur while he'd been staring at the mask. “I, uh … what?" He blinked in confusion again, refocusing on Ptilam's face.
“I know there's not a whole lot for you from a biologist's point of view, but I'm hoping you're looking forward to collaborating with the rest of the team. A lot to be learned, don't you think?"
Igara briefly wetted his lower lip with his tongue. “Uh, yeah … yes. It's all very fascinating. I think our work is cut out for us," he managed, trying not to sound further confused or reveal that he had somehow zoned out for half of the presentations.
“Glad to hear." Ptilam clapped him again lightly on the shoulder before turning on his heel. “Work at your own pace, you can stay here if you want, or go back to the quarters I showed you earlier. Take it easy the rest of the day if you want, too. Not going to expect too big an update from you when we meet tomorrow," he called back, before leaving the room.
As he watched the military man leave the room, he felt the anxiety and tension slowly leaving his body. Glancing back down at the readout on his tablet he could see everything going back to normal - heart rate dropping, blood pressure dropping, everything going back to where it should. He could still feel the strange sensation of being watched. Knowing there was a mask back there that pulled on his attention so firmly, he couldn't ignore its presence - he could still feel it almost tugging on his shoulder, urging him to turn around and look - but he kept his eyes on either the readout in his hands or the exit to the room.
One by one the other members of the team exited and the quiet sounds of conversation died off. A couple of people briefly acknowledged him as they passed by and he managed a little nod and a smile, but it was difficult to refuse the distraction at the back of his mind. He could wait until everyone else had left, and he would have the place to himself, and then he would be free to go over and inspect it at his own pace. He would find out what was different about it. He could record his findings from his scanner to see how he was responding, and find out if maybe it was doing something to him. Almost as if an afterthought he reached for his tablet and thumbed over the button to start recording.
Then he was alone. With no one else around all his ears could register was the faint whirring of some equipment in the distance - an air handler in the distance, or maybe the rumble of station keeping thrusters reverberating in the hull - and then his own heartbeat, starting to thump louder and more quickly.
“Maybe I should just leave," he whispered to himself softly, and put one foot in front of the other, before promptly twisting and pointing himself directly at the row of masks. It only took a few strides to cross the distance and he found himself standing before the rack, the nearest ones within easy reaching distance. He loomed over the one that seemed to draw in his gaze, looking it over.
Up close it didn't really look any different. It was still the same basic shape as the others around it. The color was the same, the size was the same. The visor was ever so slightly different, but then each one was unique, just a subtle variation on the overall theme. Nothing about this particular one looked like it could explain why he should be drawn to it, or why he should even be able to pick it out from the rest. It was practically like picking out a single blade of grass in a meadow, yet here he was.
Slowly he reached a hand toward the mask. Halfway he paused and glanced at his outstretched fingers, as his hand began to quiver a little bit. He balled his fingers up in a fist and grunted at himself as he felt the sense of anxiety rising in tandem with the curiosity. He had to know, he had to find out what was going on, but why was he getting so worked up? As he squeezed his fist he could feel the perspiration on his palm. “Christ," he whispered, an ancient epithet that felt appropriate for the situation. He shook his fist as if to squeeze out the tension, and then let his fingers reach out to brush up against the surface of the mask.
To his surprise, the material was smooth under the skin of his fingers, gliding along the surface with almost no friction. He had expected it to feel more grippy or tacky based on its appearance. It was initially cool to the touch, the same temperature as the room, but seemed to warm up under his fingers. He realized that it must conduct heat well. Still quivering lightly, he reached around the snout of the mask and to the underside before he lifted it.
“It's so light," he remarked under his breath, almost in a whisper. The edge of the material where he gripped it flexed under the pressure, and he reached with his other hand to support it and lift it closer to eye level. Almost gingerly he turned it in his hands, inspecting the front, watching the reflections of the lights behind him against the visor, his thumb moving to brush over one of the ports. Still nothing about it seemed to explain why it was pulling his attention so keenly.
Perhaps he could find something if he turned it around, and he began to flip it over before his muscles all but froze. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel his heart thumping in his chest as the anxiety suddenly rose to a peak, but he realized it was more than simple anxiety - it had a strange flavor of excitement, of anticipation. Sucking that breath down into his lungs, he let it out shakily and turned the mask over so he could see the inside.
At first there was nothing, at least nothing that could justify the heightened sense of anxiety and anticipation. The inside looked almost the same as the outside, though he did spy what must have been the little light projectors that had been mentioned, small little modules tucked against the inside of the visor that would go almost unnoticed if they hadn't already been discussed. Otherwise it was nothing but the featureless black of the material, same as the outside, the whole mask flexing lightly in his grip.
But then he thought he saw something, a faint flash of color, and a hint of something dancing across the inside of the visor. He squinted a little and blinked, focusing his eyes there, and again there was somethin, a faint suggestion of some geometric pattern flashing and shifting. It seemed to move and morph in a way that made it hard to focus on, hard to see. Had he done something to activate the display? Cautiously, almost gingerly, he lifted the mask to get a better look.
Again he thought he could see something, brief geometric patterns like the phosphenes one could see when rubbing their eyes. Trying to get a better look he lifted it closer. If it were a little bigger maybe it could fit his face, he realized, and maybe he could see the images better, more clearly. The mask was too small, but maybe he could try. At the same time, something clicked in the back of his mind, wondering why, almost like a sense of danger, and he paused with the mask just inches from his eyes.
“Go on," a soft voice called out from behind him. “Don't be shy."
With a start he turned around and looked, and standing just a few feet away was one of them. Shorter than him by a fair margin, clad in a mask that looked very much like the one he was holding and a form-fitting suit to match. A reptilian shaped snout and a short tail waving behind the creature. Soft violet lighting within the mask illuminated the creature's eyes just enough to be seen through the visor, gazing at him through slitted pupils. A member of species 716. A rubber lizard.
The creature spoke again, its voice soft and faintly muffled from within the mask. “It's for you." Igera almost yelped at the sound of the voice and involuntarily dropped the mask. It fell to the ground with a soft thump, bouncing a little before rolling. He looked up again at the creature but it was gone.
All he could think to do in that moment was run as fast as his feet could take him away from the room, and barely had enough presence of mind to snag his tablet before he hurried away into the corridor beyond.
“So, what's so important that you couldn't just get an answer tomorrow?"
Igera looked up from where he stood, just to the side of the hatch leading into what he had called the conference room, his back to the wall. He'd been reviewing some of the data that he'd recorded a few hours ago, before he had fled, and hadn't noticed when Rath Meyer had shown up. “Uh, hi. Yeah. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the, uh, devices."
The scientist squinted at him before breathing in a sigh and rolling his eyes back into his head. “Weren't you paying attention in the presentation?"
“I was," he protested softly. “But I needed some more detail that you didn't go over."
Meyer shrugged a little at that. “I went over pretty much all of the detail, unless you're looking for specific material analysis or something like that …"
Igera nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. Exactly that sort of thing."
“Weird, but okay. You'll have to let me know what you want to know," he replied, briefly smoothing a palm over his head before he turned and walked into the room. “Come on and let's talk."
Igera wanted to protest but the words died in his throat before they could be formed. Just standing outside of the room, he was already beginning to feel that weird sense of anxiety from before. The physical proximity of the thing alone seemed to tug at his senses and beckon him. It had subsided when he left the vicinity and hid away in his quarters for a few hours, most of the time spent curled up in the fetal position on a bunk, but had begun to creep back as he had returned. Perhaps it really was being close, or perhaps it was just the knowledge that it was there, but either way it was already gnawing at him. With a gulp, he turned and followed Meyer into the room.
The mask was just where he had left it, on the ground. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he could feel the weird anxiety rising in his gorge once again. Immediately his palms began to sweat and his fingers began to feel thick and clumsy. He tried to measure his breath as he watched Meyer cross over in that direction, stopping short and reaching down to scoop it up. “Wonder how this ended up here," he pondered aloud, setting it on the edge of the table.
Igera's eyes followed it before he tore them away to look back at his colleague, almost by force of will alone. “You'd mentioned in your presentation that there were some kind of low level emissions coming from these things," he began, doing his best to focus on the words and ignore the mask. Even if he kept his eyes averted, it still loomed in his peripheral vision, constantly inviting a glance.
“Yeah, what about it?"
He swallowed down a gulp before proceeding, slowly. “Can you tell me more about the emissions? What sort? Are they something that could have an impact on its user?"
“Can't answer that last one for sure, I'm not the biologist." There was a not so subtle sting in that last statement. “But if I had to guess, I'd say no. Extremely low levels of radiation. Like, less than what your tablet is emitting when it's just sitting in standby. Low enough that you don't even know it's there unless you're specifically looking for it."
Igera was trying his hardest to avoid looking at the mask, focusing on the conversation at hand, but even then he felt his eyes trying to wander. “And these, uh, devices of theirs. Are they all emitting exactly the same kind of energy?" He knew he was grasping at straws but there had to be something that made each one different. That made this one different.
“Yeah, it's pretty much just random … huh." Meyer paused, flicking his fingers over a display on his own tablet, furrowing his eyebrows before pulling the eyeglasses from his pocket again and resting them on his face. “Well this is interesting."
“Interesting?"
A brief moment passed before he spoke up again. “Huh. Yeah. We've been monitoring these things for a while, and I was just scrolling through the data. For the most part there's nothing remarkable. But here, when the lights are out, there's something in the near UV spectrum. Super faint, enough that when the lights are on it's just drowned out and looks like noise in the sensors. But I think it's legit."
Igera leaned in, looking over the display as if he understood what he was seeing. “Near UV? They're all emitting it?"
“Well it might be a stretch to say it's an actual emission, but it seems to be there. Like, barely. The sort of thing that looks like noise but … but I think I'm seeing something like a pattern here. Give me a minute to process this."
“A pattern?" He felt a little thrill run down his spine at the thought. Perhaps his clutching at straws was not so in vain after all. He turned his attention to his own tablet and brought up some information about electromagnetic spectra and their effects on biology, particularly human physiology.
Another moment passed before Meyer spoke up. “I'll be damned, there is a pattern. Subtle, but it's there. Nothing super complicated, and repeats after just a handful of bits. I'd have to ask one of the computer guys but I think it might be just enough to store, like, a single phrase or number or …"
“Are they unique? Does each one seem to have a unique pattern?"
“Sure looks like it."
The little thrill in his spine became more of an outright shiver. Finally, something distinct from one to another, but what did that mean? He glanced through the readout and reminded himself that near UV wasn't medically significant to humans, nor was it visible. It shouldn't have been doing anything to him, but something was. He had to do something to rule it out. “UV is … uh … do we have something around here that's opaque to UV? I want to run a quick experiment."
“Experiment? Huh. Well, sure, lots of materials are opaque to UV. Oh. Here." Meyer paused to bend over and fish around under the table before pulling out a dark plastic container. “We used these to haul a lot of the equipment we're using. Pretty sure they're opaque. Why?"
“We have four of these things on the table. Can you put them into the container and close it, while I check some readings here?" He was almost too afraid to look or address the masks directly.
“Okay. Not sure where you're going with this but … why not?" There was a rustling sound for a moment as he was presumably loading the masks into the container. “All right, all done."
Igera wasn't sure whether he was imagining it, but he did feel like the strange and palpable anxiety was diminishing, but he was also aware it could have just been his own mind working against him. Inwardly he cursed. “Okay. I'm going to turn my back to you, and I want you to pull them out, one by one. Let me know when you've taken one out and I'll record the data, then move on to the next. Make sense?"
“Not really, but ok."
He nodded and turned to look in the opposite direction, pulling up a scan of his own vitals and looking them over. Some of them were still a bit elevated but nothing out of the ordinary, considering his previous state of anxiety. He took a little breath and nodded. “All right, start when you're ready."
There was a rustling sound behind him and then it stopped. “All right, got one."
Nothing changed on the readings. “Ok, good. Good. Continue." He kept his eyes on the readout while he heard another item being withdrawn from the container, and Meyer called out that the second one had been removed. Nothing changed once again, and he told the scientist to continue.
He didn't need to wait for the third callout to know that another one had been removed, and he didn't need to consult the readout to know that something was definitely happening to him. He could feel his heart rate increasing, could hear the rattle of his breath in his throat. Just to be sure he looked at his screen, and sure enough, everything was spiking.
It didn't make sense. If it really was UV, how could it be having any impact on him, let alone like this? Even if he were somehow able to see the light, it was so dim that it would have been drowned out looking at it directly, let alone subdued reflections from the room around him. Yet all the same, as soon as the mask had been pulled out of the container, his body reacted. His mind reacted, too. That same sensation of being watched from behind crept up on him, and with it the compulsion to turn around and look, find its source. His tongue felt thick in his throat as he wondered what the hell was going on.
Then a muffled voice called out from behind him. “Are you my mummy?" Confused, he wheeled around and stared. Meyer was holding a mask up to his face - the mask - his eyes shadowed and blinking at him through the visor. All he could do was gape at the sight in confusion, his anxiety ratcheting up seeing it so close again. Meyer repeated the question, his voice muffled behind the mask. “Are you my mummy?"
Igara managed a sort of gurgling cough before he could form any words. “What the hell?"
The response was a peal of laughter as Meyer dropped the mask down into his lap, eyes mirthful. “Not a fan of classical humor?"
“I don't understand," he protested, breathless.
The man just shook his head, smoothing over his disheveled hair with his laughter dying down to mere giggles. “Nevermind, nevermind. Oof. Thought I lost you for a second there buddy, you were kind of spacing out on me. Did you get the info you wanted?"
He continued to stare, dumbfounded, his ears practically buzzing from the rush of blood he was feeling. He had to take a step back. “Data … data. Yes, I got … yes," he murmured, struggling to focus on the moment again. Something about it was undoubtedly having an effect on him, but not on anyone else. He didn't know why, nor did he know where to begin. He had to find out. Somehow, he had to find out.
“Well, ooookay. I'd ask you to be more specific but I'm not getting the best vibe from you here …"
“Sorry," he apologized, a bit lamely. “I'm just … tired."
Meyer shrugged and dropped the mask on the table. “Yeah, well, ok. I get that. Look, I have to thank you for making me take another look at this thing, and it looks like there's a lot of data to actually process. I'm gonna have to consult with the computer geeks though to help me do it. I think I'm gonna head out and leave you to it, if you promise to tell me what you found in the morning."
That'd mean leaving him alone with the thing again. He wanted to have a chance to inspect it again and unravel its secrets. He wanted to be far away from it. He wanted the man to leave, and wanted him to stay. His head throbbed with the conflicting thoughts. “I promise."
“I'll, uh, leave you to it then. Take it easy."
Igara let himself slump back lightly and sit on the edge of the table, keenly aware that the mask was next to him, within reach. He didn't have to look at it to know it was there. He nodded to his colleague but just sat there with his head bowed, spying his feet as he left, and then he was engulfed in silence again. Silence and the unyielding urge to look. To know.
He thought to reach over and grab the thing, but his hand was already there. His fingers were already bumping up against the smooth, yielding surface of the mask, already gripping and pulling it into view, almost of their own accord. He set it in his lap, looking up at him, his own reflection visible in the visor. It should have been an entirely innocuous thing, an inert lump of rubber, but as he ran his thumb along the snout of the thing and against one of the ports he felt a weird shudder again, a visceral desire to turn it over in his lap. As he did so he almost felt giddy with the rush of anticipation, just like before but somehow more keen.
When he flipped it over and looked over the interior, he again saw the little flash of light. The patterns that danced across the inside of the visor were fleeting and ephemeral, disappearing if he looked at it directly but out of the corner of his eye he could swear he saw them. Amber lines that curved and flitted across the glass-like surface, fractal patterns that shuddered and collapsed in against themselves, beckoning his vision to fall into the void but when he looked, they skittered away once again.
It was maddening.
He clutched the mask and lifted it again, holding it at eye level, looking for the patterns. He had to swallow down a knot in his throat that formed, and again he pulled the mask near to his face, looking into the visor, looking at the room beyond through the clear surface, catching fleeting glimpses of the shapes and patterns at the edge of his vision. He pulled it close enough that he could feel the heat from his own breath gathering and spilling back out, the faint echoes of his own shuddering gasp muted by the flexible surface. It was too small for his face yet when he held it close it felt like it could fit, like it just might work. Like it might engulf him. Hesitation rose and locked him in place, making him shiver.
Then there was the voice. “Well? Go on."
Igera swallowed nervously and wet his lips before he lowered the mask, slowly, turning. Just as before, the creature stood there, only a few steps away, gazing back at him through its own mask. It tilted its head and regarded him in a way that seemed to convey curiosity. “Who … what are you?"
“Friend? Friend. I am a friend." The small creature seemed to wag its tail, its voice soft, oddly comforting in spite of the muffled echo from within the mask.
“I don't … you aren't real, are you," he protested. “You aren't really here."
The creature made a sound almost like a giggle. “You can see me, does that not make me real?"
Igera shook his head. His throat felt tight and he almost struggled to form words as he felt his heart thudding noisily in his chest. “But no one else can see you, can they? Only me. Why?"
“Only you are ready. Only you are open," the creature responded, stepping a little closer. As he watched the creature move, he realized that rather than wearing a mask and a suit, it seemed like the creature was clad in one single piece of form fitting rubber, no sign of seams at all. How it could ever fit in such a thing he could not guess. But he also realized that he finally noticed it wasn't just a featureless black. Subtle patterns were visible, something like dark stripes or striations he hadn't seen in the images before, faintly distinct shades of black or dark gray, perhaps. “They have not yet found theirs."
“Found theirs?" He blinked in confusion.
The creature nodded and neared, and then he could feel smooth, rubber clad fingers touching under his hands. He could feel the physical sensation, as the creature nudged his hands upward, and the mask with it. “This one is yours, not theirs. It's for you."
He found his eyes drawn to the mask again as the creature lifted his hands, and lifted it toward him, in a movement that was smooth, unhurried but direct. Again he thought he saw that little flash of a pattern, and he began to shiver with anticipation again for some reason. “Mine?"
“Yours," the voice came, guiding the mask up to his face. “Go on. Don't be shy. I'll help you."
He didn't know what that meant, what help he needed, or what was even going on. He wasn't even sure if it was his own movements that drew the mask up to his face or if the creature was easing it onto him, wrapping his vision in cool darkness except for the visor as it came up to his eyes, the little hints of patterns flashing at the periphery. The mask was too small for him, except it wasn't. At last it came to rest against his face, the edges tucking right against the backs of his cheeks, the underside of his chin, the top of his forehead. A perfect fit.
Then something happened. A sensation he couldn't describe, not at first, but became a subtle sort of squirming sensation along his jawline and his throat. Something simultaneously cool and warm sliding against his throat, against his ears, thick and viscous. He reached for the edge of the mask to grasp at it and pull it back but found it was no longer there, his fingers instead gliding over smooth material. Panic began to bubble up in his throat.
“Don't be afraid," the voice called out, but he couldn't help it. Whatever the strange viscous substance was, he could feel it practically crawling over his face and down the front of his throat, slipping under the neckline of his shirt and spilling down over his chest. He felt it at his lips, he felt it pouring into his mouth and starting to work down his throat. Involuntarily he gagged, and panic fully set in. With a muffled scream, he reached around behind his head and flailed around for the back of the mask.
The voice called out, muffled and soft but urgent. “No! Don't be afraid, it'll pass! I will help you!"
He heard the voice but didn't care. His fingers groped along the back of his skull, and found what he felt were the edges of the mask. Somehow they had slipped and slid around the back of his head, were trying to come together and form a seam behind his skull but he managed to dig his fingers in underneath. He dug in and pulled, and with one mighty yank it seemed to come free, pulling away from his face. He gasped, drew in a deep breath and threw the mask across the room, watching it skitter across the floor before coming to a rest.
At the same time he nearly lost his balance, only just catching himself by the edge of the table, and then collapsing onto the ground. He pushed himself backward, scooting along the floor, clutching at his tablet until he was as far away from the mask on the other side of the room as he could get.
In spite of the fear and what had just happened, looking at it still filled him with that sense of anxiety and anticipation, still trying to draw his eye and snag his attention. He swallowed down hard and fought to redirect his attention somewhere else. His eyes went to his tablet and he swiped to open up his notes. When he tried to start typing, however, his fingers shook with a mix of adrenaline and confusion. He cursed silently under his breath and opted to simply record a note vocally.
“I believe that the mask is somehow communicating via UV signals. Not sure how. Perhaps close enough to the visual spectrum to be picked up by the brain on a subconscious level. Seems to be inducing a state of heightened systemic arousal. Increased heart rate, breathing rate, blood pressure. High neurotransmitter levels. Removal from the area or blocking UV mitigates the effect.
“Upon close proximity the device seems to induce sensory hallucinations. Auditory, visual, tactical. Strength of hallucinations correlates to proximity to the device. Not sure why only one seems to be effective, and not sure why it's only working on me."
He paused to think about what to say next when he realized what he had already said. Scowling, he flicked his finger over the screen to cancel the recording. “Christ. I sound unhinged." Unhinged and incoherent, and there was no way anyone would take him seriously if they saw those kinds of findings. He balled up his fists and pounded them into the ground.
The mask was still there, in the corner of his vision, tugging on his attention. “Why me?" He shouted across the room, again pounding a fist into the ground. “Why me!"
No answer came. Pushing himself back, he let himself lie back on the ground and stare up at the featureless ceiling overhead. Sprawled out on the ground he could see the rows of masks arrayed around him, could probably see a few dozen of them from this vantage point but they were all inert, uninteresting. They were just simple bits of rubber and glass, harmless and indistinct. Unlike the one he had thrown across the room. He couldn't see it, but he also could not stop thinking about it. Though he forced himself to stare at the ceiling, motionless, just the knowledge that it was nearby felt like it was burning a hole in his skull. How long he lay there on the ground resisting, he could not say. Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps it was an hour. It was not so long that anyone else noticed him, but long enough that his resolve to ignore the thing eroded.
Igara lifted himself to a seated position and stared across the room. It pulled on his attention, tugged on the corners of his vision until he was looking right at it. He tried to stare daggers into it, but he could not look away nonetheless. “Christ," he spat under his breath.
Then he was on his feet. One step, then another, in the direction of the damned mask. An idea formed in his head; he could imagine himself stomping it into oblivion. Almost giddy at the idea he picked up his pace and began to stomp angrily across the room, feet thudding against the ground. Five steps away, then four, then three. Two more steps and his foot lifted over the mask, drove down full of fury and anger - and then stopped short.
He couldn't do it.
“Why?" He hissed under his breath, reaching down and scooping the thing up. Out of the corner of his eye he spied that little hint of a dancing pattern and shuddered, felt his skin prickle up in goosebumps. He forced his eyes closed and tore them away from the thing, though he could not let it go. “Why, why, why!"
Another idea formed in his head as he remembered the box, the container that could block the UV. Maybe he couldn't destroy the thing but he could hide it. Dragging himself back to the table, he stood over the container that still held one mask from before. He held the offending mask over the opening, and his hands shook. All he'd have to do is drop it in and close the lid. It'd free him enough that he could walk away, collect himself, and decide what he had to do about it. He could be rid of it.
But if he did, he would never know the answers to the questions. He'd never know why it was only happening to him. He'd never know the meaning of the patterns that hid on that visor. He'd never know the secret of what it was trying to tell him. No matter how far away he got from the thing, he'd only ever have questions in his mind. Never an answer. He clenched his jaw and flipped the thing over, and looked into it once more.
Elusive patterns flickered along the fringes of his vision, and suddenly the thing was inches away from his face. Without thinking it, without realizing it he'd lifted it nearly onto his head again. Breathing a gasp, he pulled it away.
“Why are you fighting it?" He turned to look at the source of the voice, and the creature was there again, regarding him with violet lit eyes behind its mask. It seemed more curious and surprised than anything.
“What does it want from me?" His voice was dry and hoarse as if he'd been screaming.
The creature drew near, its steps small, graceful movements. “It only wants to be yours."
Igara swallowed down a gulp of air. He didn't know if this creature was real or some kind of complex hallucination. He didn't know what to think. “What do you mean, it wants to be mine?"
“To be yours, forever." The reptilian creature drew near, and he could feel it brush up against him, the smooth rubber of its suit gliding against his elbow, making him shiver at the contact. “To be one with you."
“One with me?" Though he didn't know what that meant, the phrase filled him with conflicting emotions, equally repulsed and thrilled. He wanted to withdraw from the creature but at the same time could not bring himself to do anything other than stand there and gasp. “I don't understand what any of this means."
The small creature made a sound like a giggle again, twisting around, its short tail giving a flick and brushing up along his thigh. “To be one with us. A friend. Don't be shy …"
He glanced down at the mask in his hands again, and once more saw the little flicker of patterns dancing in the visor. There was still no meaning to the patterns, he was still no closer to understanding them. “Please, I … I just want to know what this is, what's going on … no more mysteries, I just want to know …"
“To become is to know. To understand. To be." The little creature stepped in close again, small rubber clad hands moving to touch him along the side, along his belly, making him squirm. “Your mind is almost open. Let it in and you will know all."
Igara's voice caught in his throat as he squirmed and shuddered, his mind boiling over with strange and conflicting thoughts. He wanted to run, but he also wanted to know. He needed his answers. “Know all?"
“Yes," the creature all but hissed, its voice muffled behind its mask. Its hands slid along his body, brushing from his belly down to his thighs and inward slightly, touching him in ways that he hadn't been touched in some time. “Know the pleasure of service. Know the joy of bringing pleasure. Come friend, don't be shy. Don't be afraid."
He let out an involuntary groan at the increasingly erotic touches, and glanced down with wide eyes. The rubber clad reptile was brushing its fingers along his thigh, over his groin, and while part of him thought he should be disgusted it also felt so intense. The little creature then hugged itself up against him and he could feel something like a bulge tucked against his hip. “What … what … ahhh. What are you doing …" his voice faltered when the creature began to grind lightly against him, a smooth hand stroking along the back of his thigh.
At that it giggled again lightly. “Showing. Helping. Come friend. Join us." It reached up with another hand, and eased the mask up toward his face.
Still conflicting thoughts and feelings roiled in his head, but he felt nearly paralyzed to escape. The mask was brought up to within inches of his face one more time, again close enough to feel his breath gathering against the inside, the subtle patterns dancing in the corners of his vision, but it stopped there. The little creature was not going to make the last little push, withdrawing its hand and leaving it in his own grip. It would have to happen under his own power.
He didn't know, but he had to. His hand tilted, and let the mask settle in against his face. Too small yet not too small, fitting against his features as if it had been made just for him. “Relax," he could hear the voice hissing into his ears.
Like before, he could feel it practically mold to his skin and then melt against it, the sensation of thick fluid running back along his jaw and down his throat. He could feel his heart racing, the air in the mask growing hot and humid from his own heavy breathing. Once more he could feel it slipping around the back of his skull, could feel it brushing up against his lips and starting to slip down his mouth toward his throat, and the sense of panic rose up in him again as he whimpered and gasped, but then felt a strong grip at his hand. “Stay calm, it'll only take a moment …"
The sensation of whatever it was slipping into his mouth made him nearly gag again, his body tensing up as he instinctively reached up to try and pull the mask away, fingers grasping at the edges, but then he stopped. The patterns on the visor before him flashed more boldly and caught his attention, took the edge off the panic just enough, and he let his hands fall to his side, once more. He let himself feel the sensation of something crawling along his body, under his shirt, sealing around the back of his head in a seamless, skin-tight configuration.
Though his heart was already racing it started to increase even more rapidly, pounding in his chest as he felt his body being swallowed up and inexorably encased in something slick and soft and rubbery. It moved down over his torso, staying flush to his skin, over his waist and then his groin. It moved over a throbbing erection he hadn't realized that he had, encasing it and creating a sensation that made him gasp for air, like lighting in his veins alternating from cold to hot.
Suddenly there was more than just the sensation of something spreading over his body. Instead of the rubber like material conforming exactly to him, he felt like he was beginning to conform to it. His face felt like it was beginning to stretch, pulling his jaw forward and his skull back, something seeming to tug on his ears and pull them into the shape of the mask that was firmly attached to his head. Though it was not painful it was distinctly unusual and uncomfortable and another bout of panic began to take hold, but this time he had no clue how to react. He reached for some part of him that wasn't still covered but his own hands had become clad in the stuff, swiping ineffectively over his whole body.
His knees grew weak and he couldn't hold himself up anymore, crumpling to the floor and falling back with a gasp and a whimper. His whole body writhed as it became enshrouded in the material growing over him, and at his backside where it began to pull out into the shape of a tail, it pulled his body with it. He could feel the sensation of his spine stretching, flesh forming into a new appendage that filled the suit growing around him, a perfect fit in every way until it began to thrash under its own power.
As if that sensation weren't enough, where it encased his engorged manhood it began to shift, as well. While he didn't lose his erection - somewhere, in spite of all the strange sensations coursing through him, was still enough erotic stimulation to keep him hard - it seemed to pull back into him, tucking into his body, until his rubber clad groin looked as smooth as anything.
Igara's mind reeled. He tried to speak but his mouth felt like it was being gagged by something, and all he could do was cry out in soft groans that were muffled by the mask that wasn't so much a mask anymore but a part of a suit that was enveloping his whole body. He could feel bones shifting, conforming to some new shape, painless but unsettling. His whole body shuddered and shook on the floor, and he hugged himself firmly around the middle while he whimpered.
“There. It's almost over." He'd almost forgotten about the creature that was with him, now standing over him, with an outstretched hand. Hardly thinking about it, he reached for the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to standing, surprised to find that when he did, he no longer loomed over the creature but rather stood at nearly an equal height.
“What …" he felt himself able to speak, the mask conforming to the shape of his face - his snout - with just enough freedom to allow him to do so. “What did you do to me …"
“Relax," the other said, stepping around briefly behind him. He could see, through the visor, as rubber clad hands reached around either side of his neck, each holding what looked like a small, flexible bit of tubing. Each of them slotted neatly into a port on either side of his mask, and when they were in place he heard a faint hissing sound before a faintly sweet tasting vapor rushed into the mask.
With a sudden gasp he wound up breathing in a lungful of the vapor, and when he did all of the tension seemed to melt away from his body. At the same time the little patterns started to dance around on the visor again, always elusive when he looked right at them but always visible out of the corners of his eyes. Again he took a deep breath, flooding his mind with a calming, soothing sensation. “Oh … ohhh …"
The other slid around and stood in front of him again, gazing at him with those violet-lit eyes. “There, friend, there. How do you feel?"
“I feel …" he paused. He wasn't sure what the word for it was. His mind felt at ease but hazy at the same time, calm and happy but somehow missing something. “I feel almost better."
“Yes." The creature before him nodded, and reached out to take his hand. “Almost. And soon you will feel better. The others are waiting to meet you, waiting to teach you, feel you, know you. Come."
He paused and briefly turned to look at his tablet, sitting on the ground. It seemed important but he was not entirely sure why. “I think … I think that's mine. I think I need it."
His companion laughed. “No, not anymore. That's not yours anymore. That's not you anymore. Here," he said, and led him to a corner of the room where there was a small hatch that he had not seen before. It opened to admit them into a dimly lit corridor. A little puff of vapor in his mask helped to erase any sense of trepidation he felt, and he followed along, turning a corner into another room, where his companion gestured. “Here. Look."
In the room was a mirror, and staring back at him was another one of the rubber lizard creatures, eyes lit in dim amber through the mask. “I'm … that's me … I'm …" He was interrupted by yet another hit of that vapor, his eyes becoming more keenly aware of the patterns reflecting on the visor. He didn't know what they meant but he wasn't sure he wanted to. So long as they kept making him feel so warm and relaxed. “I think I need something."
“You do. You still need a new designation. But that is not for me to decide." The other reptilian with him moved to the opposite side of the room, where there was another hatch, before turning to look back his way and offer an outstretched hand. “But you also need some training. We're eager to share with you. Come, friend."
He didn't feel like he had to decide what to do, he just knew. He knew that he'd come along and join and be where he belonged. He reached out and took the rubber clad hand and followed, eager and ready to learn and serve.