Embraced Identity Lore:
“Your friend…”
A cutting laser bathes frost-caked steel in sparks of molten metal. The light burns orange, tracing an elliptical path until the section of bulkhead can be pushed away. It lands on the floor of the chamber with a resounding clang, dislodging icicles from the ceiling in a heavy indoor snowfall.
Micah-10 slides through the still-glowing opening, surveying the ice-encrusted facility beyond the breach. What she finds is a labyrinth of catwalks, debris-blocked corridors, and still-functioning machinery dating back to the age before the Collapse.
An hour into the guts of the Europan facility, Micah’s Ghost springs up over her shoulder in a crackle of light. “The power conduits converge in a room just past here,” she says, shining a light on a nearby door that glitters with hoarfrost.
“Thank you, Mihaylova.” Micah gently knocks her helmet against her Ghost. With a steady hand, she scrapes away the frost from the door, revealing a BrayTech logo stenciled on its surface. She and Mihaylova share a look of trepidation. Then with tremendous strength, Micah wrenches the frozen door open and steps into the data center.
It takes hours to scan the racks for operational data, and even longer to sort out corrupted files from salvageable ones. But it isn’t salvage Micah is here for. An icy sheen has collected on both Micah and Mihaylova in the time they’ve spent scanning the archive, processing thousands of files, searching for a single one without the benefit of a functioning index. A needle in a haystack. Until…
The soft gasp that escapes from Micah tells her Ghost the search is over. Micah immediately pulls a cable from the back of her neck, spooling it out to interface with the archive. She loads the file she’d been searching for. The one she’d hoped for. The answer. Her answer.
===============
EXOMIND PROJECT
File: [index number corrupt]
Age: 17, Gender: F, Height: 167 cm, Weight: 54 kg, Class: A6 (Resident)
=================
Micah rests her hand on the flickering screen displaying the file. A partial record of a lifetime, fragments of the past… pieces of her. Pieces of identity. Of self. Answers to the dreams that have haunted her since Mihaylova first woke her up. Permission be damned.
“It’s nice to meet you…” She whispers, beginning the download, “Micah Abram.”
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