2023-02-03: Dispersal in progress... (Prologue)

• Log: Dispersal in progress... (Prologue)
• Cast: Rita Bernal, observing Yuliana Kafim
• Where: Colombo, Sri Lanka
• Date: 2023-02-01 (ICly spanning the breadth of Jan 31st to Feb 3rd)
• Summary: Yuliana is returned to the Institute's care. Rita remembers their care, too. She witnesses the crimes done to her friend, anyway. (Content warning: human experimentation)

---

<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.

        Two guards flank Yuliana, as they walk her into the Institute. She is not presumed to be harmless -- not right now, not even with that bomb collar locked about her neck, her wrists bound, all the sedatives pulsing through her. She is quiet, though, as they walk through that stark white hall. She cannot help but feel so defeated, gaze cast off to the side rather than at the scientist walking ahead.

        She'd tried to argue with them, while they held her in a secondary location. While the REA decided whether they should give Pham another chance, though he's wasted so many. It was pointless. Her rank was always a polite fiction they maintained for the world outside; her opinion weighs nothing, here in her home.

        It's because she can't look straight on at her fate, though, that her eyes catch what lies behind one of those heavy doors --

        The redhead sleeping, apparently soundly, in containment.

        Yuliana breaks from the guards beside her, to slam her bound fists into the door. "Rusalka!" She yells, though the Institute's rooms are all quite, quite soundproofed. Seeing no reaction, she yells, louder: "ALMA!"

        Two words are all she gets, before those guards pull her back. Yuliana finds the strength in her to struggle again, wrenching her arms away. "Get off of me! That's not yours! I never said you could--!!" Her words are choked off, as one of the guards, behind her, claps a broad hand over her mouth.

        "If you know what's good for you," that guard warns, "you'll quiet down."

        Past the anger, fear grips Yuliana, again, much as she's grasped. She sinks in his hands, looking down and away, with a little jerk of a nod. The female guard, beside him, lowers her taser.

        "Do you have it under control?" The scientist asks, turning to them.

        "Seems that way," the guard replies, as he and the woman beside him grasp each of Yuliana's arms again.

        They walk her to her own containment cell, and this, too, is soundproofed.

        No one can hear her.

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

Far from the Institute for Continuing Study, the Phenex hovers. No engines or thrusters maintain her position, only the power emanating from the twin worlds she flies through.

In so many cases, she's been able to simply take spiritual form and walk freely to the one she wishes to speak with. Now... Any number of subjects, or even doctors, could see her. She doesn't wish to find out if there's anything they could do about her presence.

Time ticks by. The rescue mission will go forward. Any further information she can gather will only help ensure its success. Perhaps the only way forward is just to accept the risk.

Incandescent as ever, a golden bird separates from her greater whole and dives, soaring. For someone as swift as her, it's not too terribly long a journey. She's not making any effort to manifest, in this case, only the very sensitive would be able to see her. Soon enough, the building rises before her.

...

Why does she hesitate? She knows what she'll find inside. She knew what she'd find inside. It was what had to happen, even if it was painful, even if it was scary, this was the path she chose to walk, and--

...

This is just a spiritual splinter. Even if it's torn to pieces, the rest will remain. Come what may, this is for Yuliana!

Propping up her courage with every bit of strength she has, the radiant bird flies through the wall of the Institute, searching. Alma's soul is a beacon, guiding her close. Her heart twists to see the woman so subdued. Shifting back to her human form, Rita Bernal reaches out, pressing a hand to Alma's forehead.

"We're coming. Please don't forget. Run to the Phenex." She whispers.

If Rita wished, she could wrench open the door and allow Alma to escape, but the red-haired woman would certainly be shot down before she could get to safely. This is all Rita can offer, for now.

With a breath out, she expands her consciousness, looking for the place she can't see. And -- there, in the containment cells. Rita stays within the walls as much as she can, as she moves forward. This won't stop someone psychically sensitive from sensing her, but at least they won't see her.

Cruelty echoes from these hallways. Screams -- past, present, and future, echo in Rita's heart. This is a place of suffering. It should not exist. It will not exist. Passing by the guards returning from forcing Yuliana into her cell, Rita flashes bright gold with rage. They must've just been with Yuliana, the way they suddenly blip back into her awareness.

It takes a fraction of her power to reach out. The woman's taser falls out of its holster and lands on the ground, crackling with electricity. Maybe she'll shock herself when she picks it up. That'd be nice, Rita thinks, with a little smile. As for the man, she simply shoves a bit of psychic energy in front of his foot, hopefully causing him to trip. The floor here is unforgiving, he could hurt himself!

Ultimately, they're unimportant. Rita moves forward. Yuliana's cell is just ahead, and Rita steps through its walls carefully. As much as she wishes she could rush to her friend, this splinter would cease to exist if it got too close. Settling in a safe corner, Rita sadly watches her friend. No one is here to see her stop smiling.

"Yuli..." Rita whispers, unheard. "I'm so sorry. We're coming. So much is happening. The timing couldn't be worse... But I've convinced them. We're going to be here in just a few days."

In this place... That could very well be too late.

<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.

        "Tch," the guard clicks her tongue, as her taser scatters to the ground. She knows better than to pick it up until it's finished discharging.

        The other guard stumbles, and catches himself on the wall. "Ah, crap!" He will remember the scrape on his palm, when he gets home from his shift to his comfortable home. "Damn," he grumbles. "What was that, an earthquake...?"

        "Oh, don't you start," the female guard issues, frowning. "We have enough problems around here right now!"

        "Sure, sure..."

        Yuliana isn't paying attention to their banter as it fades away, though. She curls in on herself on her hospital bed, curling her now unbound arms about her legs, all pulled up to her chest. She cries, to herself, now she thinks she's alone. "Elya, save me," she whimpers, "Elya, what happened..? They're cruel again, Elya..." Tears in her eyes, there's collapse in her body and her voice, as she mumbles.

        "... oh... but you can't hear me... either..."

        ...---...

        She's given only a little rest before she's called to surgery. It isn't the only time she'll lie on this table. They have so much to do.

        Yuliana's eyelids almost flutter, on that cold, hard table, as she floats up from the infinite black. She knows the language she's hearing, now.

        "... never forgive Devi for rushing us like this. She pauses our experiments for months, and then tells us to get all our exploration and investigation done in days?!"

        "It can't be helped. We can't put it through invasive surgeries like this when it's on life support. Its body wouldn't take it."

        "I suppose we can't afford to test that... but it's still a pain."

        "Doctor, can you check this anaesthesia?"

        "Let me see..."

        Those recognisable tones fade, as Yuliana returns to Her confidence, but she feels so keenly the way she is rearranged under Her care.

        She isn't consciousness enough to realise they're taking samples from her body -- biopsies, they call them -- and inserting a few things, too. Life-sustaining devices. A pacemaker, for one.

        They do wake her up for the brain surgery, nominally speaking -- the reason they've shaved her head. They need to be able to ask her questions, to make sure they haven't taken anything they'll regret.

        They're not so concerned about what she'll regret.

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

Yuliana cries. Rita watches, glowing dimly. What can she do, but wish her friend strength? This woman who was kind to her, when no one else was... Rita has so little to offer her.

"I'm so sorry..." Rita repeats. "Elisa is coming. We talked. We'll work together. Celestial Being, too, and Leina. Even my sister -- ah, her pilot -- will be here."

Thinking back to their last few meetings, Rita considers. She can't be too conspicuous, but Yuliana is smart. She'll recognize a pattern.

Rita presses her hand against the wall -- the corner, directly across the room from Yuliana's point of view. Floating perilously close to the crying woman, Rita lines up her line of sight. If she can get this right, Yuliana will be the only one to see it.

Risking a flare of psychic energy, Rita traces her finger against the rough wall. One, two, three, four. Stacked vertically, four hearts carefully drawn into the wall itself. Looked at from any other angle, they'll appear to be nothing but imperfections in the construction.

Rita looks back to Yuliana. All she has to do is notice. There's nothing Rita can do to get her attention without risking the guards coming back.

"Four days, Yuli, that's all... Just four days."

---

Again, Rita takes to the walls. With rage echoing in her soul, it's difficult to dampen her presence. There's even less she can do, here. Any interference will risk hurting Yuliana.

No matter what, she'll be here. Yuliana can't see her, or feel here, but that doesn't matter. The love Rita feels for her friend is still real.

When Yuliana's head is set to be shaved, Rita recoils in horror. Memories flash before her eyes, before she can stop them--

"RITA! IT WAS A LIE, IT WAS ALL A LIE--" Screams a boy with red hair, before he's tackled to the ground. Even then, he struggles forward, desperate to reach her. All she can do is turn and give him a smile, the last one he'll see from her--

"That's enough." Rita whispers, forcing the emotions away. Distress has sent her form flickering in and out, struggling to maintain her connection to her greater self. If they're going to be so cruel... Rita can at least slow them down!

The hair shaver is unplugged. When it is plugged in again, and the surgeon is walking away to turn it on, it's unplugged again. And again. As many times as Rita can get away with it. Even if she can't make them stop, she can slow them down, little by little.

Papers go missing. Surgical tools fall to the floor, necessitating sterilization. Lights flicker, as Rita battles with the electrical system. Slow them down. Make their tasks more difficult.

No matter how Rita tries to conceal herself, anyone psychically sensitive will feel the specter of her rage and grief, floating above an undercurrent of fear. The Institute is haunted, it seems, by a particularly expressive ghost.

Yuliana isn't the only subject Rita tries to aid. Splitting her splinter further, she haunts each surgical suite. When one isn't in use, she finds her way to break rooms and security checkpoints, causing whatever minor havoc she can manage. These cruel people deserve to know fear, in the days before their end. None of them are innocent.

<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.

        Yuliana lifts her gaze, eventually.

        "They... had someone else in here, huh..." She mumbles, not even bothering to keep a secret of her feelings, now she's this broken down. At least if she talks to herself, it's as if someone sees her. (She does not realise she is seen.)

        And she thinks those hearts an expression from a previous occupant.

        "I wonder if you died," she murmurs, hugging her legs tighter to herself. She tells herself, "... well, I guess it doesn't matter to me..."

        Her hand falls to the base of her bed, and she taps something out, on the metal where they attach the straps. Three short taps, three which linger, and three more staccato raps.

        ...---...

        The surgical suite is haunted. The surgeons grow ever more testy and irate, as their time pressure is escalated further by all these errors. At one point, a scrub nurse straight-up hits her surgeon with a set of Richardson retractors.

        Even the coffee machine in the break room keeps trying to injure them. The hot water's completely busted.

        By the end, they're not even playing music through their surgeries -- because this, too, keeps screwing up for them.

        Rita may notice that there are surprisingly few surgeries on people who aren't Yuliana now, though -- and may catch a few notes being taken which suggest that their other subjects are having their care temporarily delayed.

        Until they transfer to their new laboratory, that is.

        ...---...

        Yuliana sags, in the treatment chair, bound to it at every point by thick leather straps. Despite how difficult a process it was, her head has been shaven; pink scars, there, suggest recent access. There are more, on her body, underneath her hospital gown. It was invasive. It is... exhausting.

        She wonders when she's last slept, outside of the grip of anaesthesia.

        When Dr. Divya Devi enters, Yuliana glares at her. The elder head scientist of the Institute is immediately recognisable: dark and wrinkled skin, blue hair, severe green eyes. "What do you want," she growls, but they never answer her. Devi doesn't now, either, as she reads off a chart and checks the drips seeping into her veins through those connecting tubes.

        She shines a light, into Yuliana's eyes, and says to herself: "Good. Tell me," she issues, looking down on her, "what's your name?"

        "Yuliana --" She hesitates, for a moment, before she spits with clear defiance: "Kafim. My wife won't forgive you... all of you are dead!"

        Devi doesn't flinch. "And where are you?" She asks, rote.

        "Isn't it obvious?! I'm in Medical! I don't know if you've already rebranded, but it's always just Medical!"

        "And what year is it?" Devi says, as she fusses with things.

        "It's '96-- no-- '97, now," and even with the confusion of the new year, it's still a softball question.

        "Hm. Good enough," Devi concludes, as she straightens up. "It seems you're surviving the preparations... we'll finish up with you soon," a light and distasteful pause, "regardless of all these... disruptions."

        (Her heart is closed and it is empty; she does not know Rita, nor her rage.)

        "Finish up-- wh, what are you going to..." Yuliana's eyes widen, and she struggles anew, despite her chemical and physical restraints. "No! No--!! I don't want it! Leave me alone! You've hurt me enough already, so enough, already...!"

        "You brought this on yourself," Devi says, "since all we asked of you was loyalty. All those little digressions of yours... we've been so tolerant, for so long! I suppose it's because you were my little darling..." Her eyes narrow, and there is bitterness, there, for the position she's in. "... you should have satisfied yourself with a normal life."

        Yuliana shrinks back, seeing that look in her eyes. "Please," she pleads, voice ragged, far from pride. "Don't kill me. I don't want to die like this."

        "Oh, no," Devi assures her. "We'd never kill you. You're far too important..." It's shaped like a reassurance, but Yuliana doesn't feel any better. "And these examinations won't kill you, either... why, you've survived intense batteries of tests before!"

        It's true, but it still hurts, and Yuliana slumps in the chair as Devi's heels click out of the room.

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

The message isn't received. Rita sighs. Yuliana sends one of her own that goes similarly unheard by any who could grant it.

---

Rita laughs. She'd never considered using her sacred powers for such petty actions. Being the Institute's personal poltergeist isn't the worst thing in the world -- though Rita grows more unsettled the longer she lingers here. More and more memories crowd her, each worst than the last.

How many times was her head shaved? How many aching scars covered her body, before she sacrificed that, too?

"Please," Rita curls in on herself on the floor of a containment cell. No bed has been provided, nothing to distract her from the pain. "Anything for the pain. Water..."

"You know the procedure." An impassive doctor looks down at her, flanked by two guards, as though Rita could move after such extensive spinal surgery. "Give us a prediction, and you can have your medication."

Rita lowers her head to the cold floor, tears leaking down her face. She shakes her head.

"Hmm." The doctor offers, before turning to leave the room, the guards joining them.

Agony wraps around the young woman, eclipsing the brilliant light of the future. "Wait!" Rita manages, her voice croaky. "You." She looks at the second guard, green eyes fixated somewhere in the distance between herself and the guard. "Your -- sister. She's going to have a boy. In seventeen days."

"Very good. See? It's so much easier to comply." The doctor walks forward, leaving a few pills in front of Rita.

The memory fades. They're getting more and more difficult to suppress, and more and more difficult to tell memory from reality.

---

Rita hovers near the ceiling, holed up in the corner. It's gotten more and more difficult to bear witness to the horrors Yuliana has been put through. Often, Rita loses herself in time, seeing her own torture in sync with her friend's.

As Dr. Devi enters -- Rita flickers out of view, shock and fear echoing through her so powerfully that her sub-splinters wink out of existence entirely. She gasps, feeling her nonexistent breath catch in her throat. Choking, Rita clutches her arms around herself, trying to hold her form together.

Yuliana and Dr. Devi talk, Rita too lost in her trauma to pay attention. Once Yuliana begins to struggle, Rita focuses back in.

"No," she breathes, horror shattering her spiritual body. Blue light shines through the spidering cracks, tears sending splintering destruction down her face. "No -- no! We're so close! Please!"

Fear and horror transform into vengeful rage for one, blinding moment. Rita propels herself through the wall, chasing after Dr. Devi.

"You -- monstrous woman!" Rita's voice shudders with tears. "I won't let this come to pass! This isn't --!"

But what if it is? What if this is what was always going to happen? Rita can't see Yuliana in her visions. What if this is it?

Rita brings her hands to her head, sobbing. Power wells up around her, uncontrollably fierce. The lights flicker.

<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.

        "What did they do to you?", was Yuliana's usual response, when Rita came back from something like that while she was visiting. The basic question didn't really change, over the years -- just the tone.

        From sharp concern, to spite, to mockery --

        What did they do to you?
        What did they do to you?
        What did they do to you?

        ...---...

        She can't ask now, of course. She doesn't even know she should.

        Dr. Devi, just the same, doesn't know she's seen for the devil she is. She keeps walking, without a single care for anything.

        It's not Yuliana who reaches out to Rita, feeling her pain and her anguish --

        -- but it is someone.

        Shh-shh-shh. It's okay, it's okay. You've got to calm yourself down, or they'll notice. Come on, kid... you're going to be all right. Just cry it out a bit... it really sucks, doesn't it?

        That's the emotional energy of one Permanence Pasternak, a woman not too much older than Yuliana, who can't sit by and listen to some young scrap's torment silently like this.

        It's not the first time she's had to reassure someone here, even though she's going through the same horrors.

        She's never reassured Yuliana, though.

        She can't.

        ...---...

        Some time later, it's Major Pham Van Vinh, entering the treatment room. Yuliana can't quite say what time it is, though she's since been strapped to a bed to rest.

        As much good as the bare minimum does her.

        "Wake up," he demands, a hand rattling at the headboard.

        "Nooo..." Yuliana murmurs, indistinct, as her eyes scrunch and she looks up to see... "Major?" Horrifyingly, relief floods her eyes, to see him standing over her, an eyepatch over one side of his face. Perhaps she still thinks he is theirs. "Thank God, you realised I was here--! Major, they're killing me, or, or something even worse, I don't know -- please, you've got to get me out!"

        But Pham is unmoved, looking at the tears in her eyes. "Get you out?" He asks, raising a brow. "Good heavens. Who, Captain, do you suppose brought you back? Not that you made it easy for me... you and that Colonel Khushrenada."

        Yuliana shrinks back, against the bed, until the rattle of leather straps halts her. "Y...you didn't... no, you couldn't...!" Elisa prepared him for her. She prepared him, so why --

        Pham folds his eyepatch up, and reveals a bloodshot eye, red and painful. "You did this to me!" He yells, and the shock of a man like him raising his voice hurts almost as much. "You and that wretched witch who took you--! That horrific creature... it's not even a woman!"

        "Don't speak of Elisa like-- aaahh!" Yuliana's attempt to defend her wife is ill-fated, as Pham slaps his helpless subordinate about the cheek. It's far, far from the worst pain she's experienced, but a sob still heaves through her weary chest.

        Blood leaks from his own nose, as he straightens up. "I just wanted to look you in the eye," he says, calmer, "as you realise what's happening to you is an act of revenge."

        "Major..." Yuliana starts, wretched in her own right, with no one left to beg for help. "Major, please, I..."

        "Go ahead and blame the monster you married," he condemns her, as he turns and leaves.

        It's so difficult to sleep.

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

Rita so rarely spoke of what was done to her. It was simply what had to happen. Her reticence only increased as Yuliana... changed, though her words never did.

---

In the midst of her despair, someone... reaches out. Brushing against her soul. Rita freezes in worry -- she's been too loud, she's been found out, but... The voice is so kind. Rita has always been so terribly weak to kindness.

Thank you. Please, tell me your name. It's very important.

If there's even one good person left in this nightmare, they have to be saved. Rita dries her tears, some of the shattered pieces of her spiritual body fusing back together.

It's so nice to be treated kindly. You must do this for many of the others, don't you? You're a good person.

Returning through the wall, Rita takes up her vigil as close to Yuliana as she can get, once more. If only her power could reach through the Void's influence, Rita could loosen her restraints...

Even though you're hurting... Don't worry. Do your best to make it, just for a few more days. I'll save you. Keep everyone you can safe.

Rita so wishes she could see a friendly face, but she can't risk it. Even if this person is kind, they could easily be tortured into revealing the entire operation. Maybe someday, Rita will be able to thank her in person...

---

Rita has been singing to Yuliana, before the Major enters the room. A cheerful song she remembers from watching a televised concert with her mother, in another life.

"...if it would heal your sadness, I'd sing until my voice wither--"

The door opens. Rita retreats to a corner of the ceiling, again, warily looking down over the room. She scowls at Major Pham rudely waking Yuliana. It's so rare Yuliana is even given this much rest..!

Cruelty drips from this man, from his core, poisoning the essence of his spirit. Rita glowers at him, burning a deep gold.

Then he slaps Yuliana. Rita's eyes narrow. The lights flicker. This will be remembered.

As he leaves, Rita floats before him, watching him carefully as he moves. That eye... This man is voidtouched. In any other case, Rita would have pity, but someone who would strike a restrained patient... Who would strike her friend?

Any retaliation she takes now will certainly only be taken out on Yuliana. As much as Rita would like to lift him into the air and tear him to pieces, she can't risk it.

"I'll give you a prediction. You won't even have to torture me for it." Rita whispers, floating to the man's ear. He won't be able to hear her, still, but it makes her feel better. "You're going to die. For all those you've sacrificed in the name of your horrible greed."

<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.

        Name's Permanence Pasternak. Sorry, I don't really recognise you... we only got shipped out here a few months back. Me and the others... but they left already. In Ypotryll, and the pain and disgust reverberates through her more muted gold, just the same. I'll try to keep 'em going here. Anyway, I'll be ready. Whatever you're up to... good luck. I get the feeling it already got you killed, so I won't waste my breath about that, but don't let this place kill you again.

        ...---...

        Major Pham, as he walks, feels like he can almost hear something behind him. He pauses; he turns. He scowls, behind his eyepatch. "Tch... these places always end up haunted," he grumbles, to himself, as he turns and keeps walking. "'You're going to die'... yes, yes, I'm sure dozens of those things said something along those lines. And those bleeding hearts try to talk about human rights... as if giving weapons special privileges is worth anyone's time. Personally, I'd sooner promote my Taita..." His mobile weapon, that is.

        That's all these people are, in his eyes -- well, his eye.

        Elisa couldn't have tortured a nicer guy.

        ...---...

        When Dr. Devi enters the room again, the nurses have already 'helped' Yuliana into the treatment chair, again. She can't quite say how long it's been.

        "Good," Divya affirms, when she sees Yuliana lift her head to glare and growl. "You're awake. Before we finish up, there's one last experiment I wanted to try..."

        "Fuck off," Yuliana hisses, and it's as effective as any of her protests have been. Dr. Devi still steps up to her -- still, with an expression Yuliana loathes, smiles. She places sensor pads on her subject, adjusts her machines, and steps back.

        "Initialising exposure," she reports, to the recording, entirely routine. This isn't the first time she's done this.

        She extends her hand out -- black lightning crackling from her fingertips towards Yuliana's heart. This, too, is the power of the Void. But rather than screaming, rather than doubling over, Yuliana gasps -- and if anything, the colour returns to her face.

        Dr. Devi frowns, down at her instruments. "Intensifying," she says, and the blast of darkness she pours out has unmoored Cyber-Newtypes from their flesh entirely.

        Yuliana closes her eyes. "Seven six twenty-five two thirteen eight," she murmurs, unseeing. "Ishtar descending. I am unmade, I am remade. Ten times will you carve gold idols. Her mortal shell is crumbling!"

        With sharp steps, Dr. Devi moves in front of Yuliana, grasping her chin to roughly jerk her gaze back to her. "What are you babbling about now?" She demands, green eyes narrowing. "What is the connection between your madness and this power? Tell me, Yuliana."

        She hears that demand, distantly; slowly, her own green eyes focus on Devi. "No," she denies her, through a rasping throat. "No, I... I won't. I will not scry the depths for you, you -- devil woman!!" And it is so much like Rita's own denials, though Yuliana spits out the words.

        Dr. Devi -- the 'L' at the end is silent -- purses her lips. "What happened to you?" She wonders, idly. "You used to be so compliant. Such a patriot. But you've been nothing but trouble for me since we got you back... will you refuse to serve the Republic entirely?"

        "I'm done with helping you!" Yuliana snaps, flashing her teeth in a snarl. "I'll give you nothing! Nothing, you cruel, despicable worms--!"

        "That really is a shame," Dr. Devi says, "given the assumptions of this experiment. It was so hard to create willing subjects, even from a flock of new and eager recruits... but no matter." She smiles, and Yuliana's blood goes cold. "This isn't the first time you've been... unruly. Don't you remember?"

        The devil in a white coat concludes: "We can always manufacture your consent."

        "No!" Yuliana yelps, wrenching herself in the chair, against the pads pressed to her skull and wires clasped there. "NO...!"

<Pose Tracker> Rita Bernal has posed.

Don't worry. I chose to be this way. I'm free now. They'll never hurt me again. I'm coming, Permanence. When you begin to hear walls crumbling, don't let them take you anywhere.

The Ypotryll... Rita can't think about it. She can't.

---

Rita stays with Yuliana, through it all. Witnessing the experiments, the surgeries, the suffering. She sings, or talks, or simply waits in silence, as close as she can get to her friend.

At night, in particular, Rita broadcasts her singing. Without formal training, or any knowledge of how to sound pleasant, it's a very average sounding thing. But in a place like this, so bereft of simple comforts, perhaps it will be a lifeline to someone.

What else do birds do, after all?

---

Dr. Devi, again. Rita knows the hateful woman can't see her, but she still shrinks into the corner again. All the courage and rage she could muster to haunt the Major vanishes in the face of one of Rita's cruelest tormentors.

"Tell her, Yuli." Rita whispers, at Yuliana's defiance.

And where the black lightning seems to suffuse Yuliana with strength...

Rita shrieks in horror and pain, though she was not struck. Cracks appear again through her spiritual body, blue light seeping through like luminous blood.

"N--nhh-- Yuli!" Rita glances to her friend, only to see her revive, and begin prophesying. "No."

Dr. Devi prepares another blast, and Rita flees in the face of it. She can't lose this splinter, not now. Soaring through the ceiling of the Institute, Rita gasps, radiant blue sweat beading across her forehead. "No, no no."

If Yuliana has fallen so far into the embrace of the Void... Can she be saved? Is there anything that can be done? Rita knows so little of the Void, but one thing is instinctually clear to her, something she knows without ever learning. The Void will destroy the path to the future Rita dreams of. Where all humanity exists as souls, and no one hurts each other ever again...

For the first time, Rita wonders if she's doing the right thing.

---

Once she's basked in the sunlight for a few heartbeats, Rita takes a breath, and returns to Yuliana's side. Her body has restored itself, and she's prepared. It'll take more than side-exposure to the Void to damage her, this time.

Dr. Devi makes an ultimatum. Yuliana screams and thrashes, and Rita can only watch. She raises her hands, flicking her fingers, allowing her splinters to form again. If this procedure is going to go forward, it must be complex. Manufactured consent? What use could that possibly have..?

Smiling gently back at her, four additional Rita Bernals soar to different corners of the Institute. Havoc begins again. Coffee machines scald all those who dare trust them. Paper shredders clog and refuse to function. Dozens of devices, small and large, unplug themselves over and over and over...

Ultimately, it won't stop much of anything. But, if she can just delay them, just long enough... Rita tries to keep the chaos random enough that it can't be traced to Yuliana in particular, but she is extra-vigilant for her friend's care. Doctors stumble and trip, medications spill to the ground, surgical tools vanish entirely.

What more can she do?

In growing desperation, Rita whispers in the ears of those doctors and guards who are sensitive enough to hear her. Predictions that speak of death and suffering -- while never touching the upcoming raid, of course.

Your wife knows. She's already planning on leaving you. When you come home, in three days, you'll be alone.

Records exist of your crimes. They weren't destroyed like you were promised. When they catch you, you'll never see daylight again.

All the experiments you've done... The radiation, the unknown substances. They've affected your body. You'll die, sick and alone.

And always, always, a constant mantra. They know. Repeated again and again, in the ears of everyone who can hear her.

<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.

        Rita can't think about it, so Permanence doesn't talk about it.

        She spends a lot of her time not talking about things, in this crowd.

        ...---...

        Manufactured consent. For some reason, Dr. Devi is seeking it. But so much of the Institute is manufactured -- and not all of the tools are human. As Yuliana's brainwashing proceeds, the Institute for Continuing Study becomes -- once again -- the most miserable place in Sri Lanka to work.

        Some of the doctors, at least, still have enough love in their bones to shudder at those predictions. Some pale, looking at themselves in the mirror. There are whispers, in the break room, that they've angered the ghosts with their exit.

        But there's one doctor who isn't bothered at all.

        "Help me," Yuliana murmurs, wounded and vague, as Dr. Petrov inserts a new cannula to help them access her veins. It's so difficult to piece the words together, against the signals to her brain. "For the love of God... help me..."

        "Yes," Dr. Petrov agrees, mildly. "I must care for you."

        "Help me," Yuliana repeats, tearstained, desperate, as she hangs in the treatment chair. "Please..."

        "Do not worry," Dr. Petrov assures her, with no recognition in her dull green eyes. (They were brown, once.) "I will change your drains. You will not get infected. I will care for you." And it's a pantomime of medicine, the way she personally takes care of all these tasks, the way she performs them without seeing Yuliana at all. "The birds say my husband will gain custody, but that's all right. The children are a distraction. I must care for you."

        "Please," Yuliana whispers, one last futile time. "Elya... Sharochka... Rusalka... Leyasha... Ritechka... someone, anyone... help me," she breathes, before she sinks back into her own abyss.

        But Taisiya can't analyse the situation at all.

        The Kafims took away her mirror recognition.