Sessillie Roth- Journals

Sessillie Roth - Journals

Today I did holy work for the God-Emperor: I released an innocent man from prison.

It was clear to me long before we convicted his cell that Mallochai was innocent of any of Lady Dee’s heresies. He is guilty only of being unable to stand up to her, and I know she would have talked circles around us if not for Marienne. So, this morning, when I woke up, I dressed in civvies (I haven’t left the discaterium all day, so I’ve gotten to be cute!) and went to the prison. I saw Secundus there, who told me where Mallochai was being held. (And also sends his regards to Caradoc; DO NOT FORGET!!! )

Mallochai looked so small in his cage. I found him sleeping; he freaked out when I woke him up, but he was so sedated he could barely remember anything. He was so very hopeful when I told him I’d try to get him out; his desperation squeezed my heart. I left my dataslate with him so he would have archives to go through; I have a decent collection, though surely nothing like what he has on his terminal. I would have worried about it, but if anyone is going to treat a computer well, it’s Mallochai.

I went to see Sergeant-Arbitrator Magdala; I knew it wouldn’t work without her permission, since she was the one who condemned him in the first place and she was also the one he wanted to work for. I think he’ll do very well, working under her; she’s fair and good in exactly the way Lady Dee wasn’t. She’s a person worth working for.

She gave me her blessing, if I filled out the paperwork and proved that Mallochai hadn’t helped his team kill her favorites. I promised her I would find her proof, though I had no idea whether he had been with his cell when they’d killed them and there was video evidence she knew of. I just hoped that, if there was video of him shooting at Karon’s cell, I could swing it to convince her that Mallochai was only Lady Dee’s puppet because that was already my argument.

Most of all, I just hoped I could free him.

I went to see Perrin (ugh) and Casio. Perrin is still heretically inefficient, so he waited while Casio pulled out the forms I needed. We got Perrin to leave and Casio even walked me through the paperwork and promised to get me a speedy signature from [other Inquisitor] if I got him promoted; he has an astropath friend. He gave me his “Book of Grudges,” which is everything Perrin has done wrong while Casio has worked under him. It was a loathsome thing, large and full, and I wanted Perrin fired like I seldom want anything.

One of the forms was a confession form for Mallochai. I took that to him. Greeted Secundus again. Mallochai looked less pitiful with a computer in his hands, even a small one like mine; he was plugged in for the first six years of his life, his whole brain running binary for the Empire. It changes the way a person sees the universe.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">He heard me this time, since he was awake, and he looked glad to see me. He was nervous and fidgety as always despite the sedation. I handed him the confession form and my auto-quill, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as distressed as he was when he had to sign a confession to crimes he didn’t commit. But the entire reason I was there was that he didn’t commit the crimes because real people are fallible and sentence innocents for the crimes of their teammates. Sergeant-Arbitrator Magdala is a wonderful, competent woman, but she’s only human. If I had not been there to free Mallochai, surely she would have seen his innocence; since I was there, the God-Emperor saw fit to give him a taste of prison for his cowardice. He gave me these strong feelings so I would get Mallochai released quickly.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">After reassuring Mallochai in approximately five ways, I went back up to the discaterium proper. I had to find Karon because the video footage of Mallochai’s cell attacking his was locked under his name.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">His room pulsed with too-loud music and he swayed from all the loh he’d smoked, but he unlocked the file. I was glad to be out of that impure place, much as I am glad when I leave Sergeant-Arbitrator Magdala’s office. This is a hive world and its customs are different, and I can be tolerant but I cannot approve of loh or alcohol. I went back to Perrin and Casio’s office. Casio met me outside and we went to Magdala together. She signed in the places she needed to sign, filled out some employment forms so Mallochai would work under her, then we discussed Perrin (and had him fired; yay!!!) and I took Mallochai’s forms down to Secundus. The elevator down felt a lot more crowded when I was accompanied by a tall man in carapace armor.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Mallochai knew enough to be afraid of anyone dressed like Secundus, and between the adrenaline from seeing a guard and the sedation he’d been under and the cage under his rising up to reveal one of his former cellmates when he was freed, I had to help him into the elevator. He stumbled everywhere.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I took him to the quartermaster’s to get his things and then left him in his room with his terminal after he gave me back my dataslate. The next thing to do is to wait a day or more and then check in and see how he’s doing now that he’s free; rushing things would send the wrong message. The absolute worst thing about dating is that everyone is wishy-washy about it and, in over forty thousand years of civilization, no one has written up a solid algorithm for it. This would be so much easier if I knew, for example, how long you should wait after you free someone from prison to ask them out to lunch. Or, dinner? Lunch is more casual, right? I want to be casual; he’s pretty flighty. But he also doesn’t pick up on social signals very well, so perhaps dinner would be better so that he’d get the message? This is exactly why we need algorithms. I’ll just have to keep my faith strong and believe that everything will work out for the best.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> <h2 class="MsoNoSpacing">Sessilie Journal 2 - Group session 5 <p class="MsoNoSpacing">

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I probably shouldn’t be writing this right now, since I’m angry and drugged and very upset, but I promised myself I would write about noteworthy things before I went to sleep, so I’m going to.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Today was not as good as many of the other days I’ve had. The God-Emperor sometimes decides to give us a taste of His might to remind us why we worship Him. We are not meant to understand this. It is painful. Regardless, it is important to remember all of the wonderful days I’ve had, even since coming into the Crematorium.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I just want my own face back.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We met our Inquisitor! That was good. That was before the mission where I lost my eye, though there were some disturbing things that may compromise Crematorium safety. Karon hacked his way into Ezra Kainus’ message that he wanted an audience with my cell, which none of us liked. We found him playing regicide with Mallochai, who I guess is adjusting well to being back in the discaterium. I had almost forgotten that I was going to ask him today if he’d have lunch with me. That seems so long ago.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We went to a very fancy hotel controlled by House Praetia, and Ezra Kainus was on floor forty-something. He’s a very good man, and I’m glad to have him as my Inquisitor. You can tell who he is the moment you see him, and I hope to one day have a tenth of the presence he has. We only met with him briefly, but I’m so proud to work for him that words defy me.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">The elevator down is where things started taking a turn for the worse. Someone heard a popping/screaming sound, so we emergency-stopped the elevator to find a woman who had been with child, but whose belly had popped and her uterus and the fetus were much more decayed than they should have been given that it had only been a few seconds since we heard the sound. There were maggots on the fetus. It was awful.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I helped guide the man she had been talking to over to a place where he could sit and not look at her while Marienne took tissue samples. Marcus went back up to tell Ezra Kainus that there was a security issue in the building, but he was too much in shock to present himself well. Kainus’ aide came back with him, and got us a van to transport the body in while Marienne erased the witness’ memories. His mind had been tampered with, we think. The woman, Genevieve, was the one who I’m not supposed to know was in Sgt.-Arb. Magdala’s office the time we burst in without knocking. I hope I’m not the first to tell her about this incident.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We rode with the body back to the discaterium, but there was a lot of traffic around Crematorium 3. We saw Magdala there and she told us to gear up and rush back. We also had to show our enforcer cogs to some enforcer guy. He was a self-important dick.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">When we got back, we were told that there was an archbishop of a local cult (a branch of St. Ezra) inside and he’d sealed off the crematorium. Mallochai was there and he’d hacked two doors: the roof and the front door. I knew it would be useful to have him free.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We went in through the front because there was only one very long ladder to the roof and it would have been risky to climb. When we got in, the front door shut for the decontamination process, but instead of decontaminants, we were doused with promethium. Caradoc hacked the security system before we suffocated from it, but it still wasn’t the best feeling to be in a locked crematorium covered in promethium.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We found some people being chased by a fanatic with a heavy stubber. We got rid of the fanatic easily enough, but didn’t trust the others. We kept them ahead of us going up the stairs to the security offices and they died in a surprise heavy flamer attack. At least they probably believed in purification by flame, so they would have preferred that death, may the God-Emperor bring them to peace. Continuing to the security offices, we found Magdala’s person on the inside, a skeletal wretch who either lived or was positioned in the air ducts – I couldn’t tell. We had accidentally locked the security system on the upper levels of the crematorium, where we were, but he gave us a map of the lower levels, which proved very useful.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I should mention that Marienne was half-possessed by part of the Archbishop’s consciousness at this point. She would talk to the consciousness and it would talk back through her body. Undoubtedly, it said things to her, but she believes in purification by fire, too, so maybe they had a great time together.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">On the way to the basement, where the Archbishop’s body (and the other part of his consciousness) was, we passed all sorts of things. People cremating themselves for their faith. The Archbishop in Marienne said not to mix the final person’s ash with the plaster liquid; their ash was to adorn the Temple of St. Ezra uncorrupted. We didn’t have time to save their lives. That was not our mission. We continued on.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We came across horrible monsters. One of them we killed quickly. The other I may never forget. It was disgusting. Its arms had been brought together to support an oversized chainsaw, which it had to lug everywhere; it didn’t have the strength to move and attack at the same time, requiring the chainsaw to catch up to it every time it stepped forward, but oh, it could spin. I was fighting it, and I got too cocky and didn’t move far enough away. I don’t remember anything afterward, but it must have swung the chainsaw into my eye because I no longer have a left eye.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I’m crying as I write this. Tomorrow, I will focus all my powers of belief on getting my eye back. I wish there were a proper temple here so I could go to service and talk to a priest who didn’t believe in all that fire nonsense. Tonight, I am in no condition to serve St. Denorus, may He forgive me for what I did not know would happen.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I woke with Marienne over me. There were bandages over my face and I couldn’t feel my body properly. My mind was clouded over. Marienne was helping me up, gently, carefully, and my balance was wrong. I could just barely walk.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We encountered no more obstacles on the way down to the basement – or, if we did, I didn’t notice them. This is why St. Denorus condemns drugs: they hurt your brain so that you can’t believe truths and sometimes make you believe falsehoods. I saw no falsehoods; if I did, I don’t think I would have noticed.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">We found the Archbishop. He was surrounded by wires, many even going into the implant in his brain. We unwired him. Marienne was involved, I think, but he wasn’t alive. We went back up and I felt weak and sad and weepy, but I was too tired to cry, I think. I don’t think I could have cried and also walked forward, my mind was so clouded. I think that was so I couldn’t feel my eye. We emerged from the crematorium after a lot of stairs, though I don’t remember much time passing, so it could have taken any amount of time, and I really wanted to find Mallochai and tell him I loved him and fall against him, but even with my mind still clouded, I’m glad now that he wasn’t around so I couldn’t embarrass myself like that. We put the Archbishop into a truck, but we had to wait for a truck to take us to the discaterium, which seemed very unfair at the time because the Archbishop, being dead, was in no pain, was having no trouble staying awake, and was not at risk of falling over because he couldn’t control his legs. I was all three things. I suppose drugs make me selfish as well as dazed.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I think something else happened when we came up from the crematorium basement, but I can’t remember what it was. I’d like to say that means it must not have been important, but with me in that state, who can know?

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">When I got off the truck, I took a very long time finding my room. I’m fairly sure I stood around, swaying and looking pathetic, until one of my cellmates took pity on me. I slept until I woke up, less high/sedated, and I got into soft sleeping-clothes, ate, had some water, and started writing this. I hope my sleep before doesn’t count as “going to sleep;” I won’t count it because I wasn’t aware enough to write, nor was I conscious enough to even think about not sleeping. I think I’ll give myself a pass when I’m tired enough to fall asleep in my armor. I did have my arm guards off, though. Drugged minds work in mysterious ways.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I need to talk to Marienne. It’s bad enough that my face is like this, but I feel like my body is corrupted. I can feel the drugs in me and it makes me squirm. I’ve written what I can; I should sleep now and let my body get rid of these toxins.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I want my face to be mine.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> <h2 class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">E Crema 17 419.M41  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Sessilie Journal 3- Solo Session 2, Session 5 <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I’m not entirely sure how to describe what I’m feeling right now because it’s the result of a large number of events. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I’ll just describe the events. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">At the very least, I feel less broken and ashamed than I did last time I wrote about my eye. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Well, not the last time. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">My mind was very clouded then, and I couldn’t feel half of my face. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I mean when I wrote about losing my eye.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Let me start from the chronological beginning, where I left off in my entry after the debacle in Crematorium 3. The next morning, I got a servo-skull from Mallochai asking how I was, but I didn’t know how to answer. It took me a long time just to put into words what I felt: I wanted to see him. I did, truly. I just didn’t want to be seen by him. I couldn’t even go across the hall without hiding half my face under a scarf, and Marienne had seen my socket when it was exposed. I felt fragile, and I was nervous of disbelieving in my usual way because I was so ashamed of the drugs that had been used on me. If Mallochai had seen me, I probably would have cried and run away. The servo-skull is still staring at me, a dull reminder that I still haven’t answered him, but the more it sits there, the more awkward it feels to write a response. I hope he isn’t worried about me.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I did talk to Marienne. It was the morning after the crematorium adventure and I was unbearably angry. But, when I talked to her, she was very apologetic and understanding, and even offered to read about the teachings of St. Denorus and send me some materials on local anesthetic. She also offered to acquire and install my new eye, though I suppose that should go before the discussion of local anesthetic. I like the structure of that sentence so much, though; everything in it just falls into place.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">By the time I left Marienne’s room, I felt reassured that she wouldn’t let harm come to me, physical or spiritual, but you can’t prevent what you don’t know of and I had heard there was a temple of St. Denorus in the Crematorium. I looked it up and went. They had a bishop who was very considerate and open-minded and he told me that whatever was adequate for me to have a safe surgery could easily be forgiven by St. Denorus and the God-Emperor. I nearly cried, I was so happy. There is, naturally, a line that must be drawn between what is medically necessary and what is lavish, and once I had read Marienne’s materials on local anesthetic and she had read mine on the basic teachings and interpretations of St. Denorus, I felt a lot more comfortable. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I felt like an incomplete person without my eye.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t know how she sweet-talked Zel, but she found me an amazing eye. I can no longer blink, and the wires are visible under my skin, but the eye is not uncomfortable and I have depth perception again.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Mallochai was assigned to calibrate my eye. When I saw that, I didn’t know what to feel. I mostly felt afraid. I did want to see him, but it was the wrong context; my face looked horrible and I didn’t want him to think of me as someone so vulnerable. The backup for Mallochai was Karon, and I don’t like Karon because he’s a cocky little shit, but even more than I didn’t want Karon to make fun of me, I didn’t want Mallochai to see me. I didn’t want to know how kind Mallochai could be to someone who’d had their face ripped open. I don’t know why; a lot of my emotions at the time didn’t make sense. I think I didn’t want to be his patient, a job to be completed. I don’t really understand why, though; I just know that thinking of Mallochai turning kind eyes and gentle hands on my unhealed face made my stomach feel wrong. I think I didn’t feel worthy. Or maybe I was afraid it wouldn’t be as tender as I’d imagined. Perhaps both.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Karon wasn’t as awful as I’d expected; I’ll give him credit for that. He’s such an asshole normally, but I think he could see how distressed I was; his fingers were gentle in a way I didn’t expect and he didn’t make fun of me. He just calibrated my bionic eye and gave me words of encouragement.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">There was a part of me that wanted Mallochai to be the one with his hands on my face, telling me things would be better soon. My emotions were everywhere.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">But now my eye is healed and I have no reason to continue being such a coward. At this point, I owe Mallochai more than just a letter. I’m going to ask him to lunch.

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<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:16px;">E. Crema 25 419.M41  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Sessilie Journal 4- Solo Session 3 Session 4
<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I was so nervous when I went to see Mallochai. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I’d been ignoring him for almost two weeks, and I’d been keeping him in the dark about my progress with my eye. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I couldn’t help thinking that he would be mad I was avoiding him, and I knew I wouldn’t know how to answer that kind of accusation without some sort of sloppy admission of affection. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I really wanted to just play it cool.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I knocked on his door. He took a while to answer, probably straightening up, though his office was still pretty messy when he deemed it acceptable. We greeted each other and I went inside. I apologized for not responding to his servo-skull, but I’m actually really bad at talking about what happened, so it just ended in awkward mumbling about how horrible my face looked after the incident. He was very interested to see my eye, but there are still the echoes of scars – nothing that hurts, but a little discoloration, so that the eye looks better than the skin around it, and I don’t want to be outdone by a machine. He did his best to reassure me that there’s nothing wrong with needing an eye replaced, pointing out that one of his is false, but I do remember how clouded my mind was after the surgery. I couldn’t help feeling a little ashamed despite the medical necessity.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He thinks Karon is the one who kept him from being my eye calibrator. When he said so all on his own, I was relieved; I didn’t want to have to lie to him about that. Really, I didn’t want to talk about my eye at all, but it wasn’t like I could just say nothing.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He asked if I’d come by for any particular reason, and I said, “Not really,” which was definitely a lie, but it kept things from going too fast. A few moments later, I asked if he would have lunch with me. He leaves the discaterium about as much as I do, so I offered to research local restaurants and then he pointed out that his terminal was right there and we ended up just looking up places in Regio Primus that looked good. He kept asking what sort of food I like, which felt incredibly irrelevant, but eventually he picked up that asking him to lunch was a way of asking him on a date, I think, and we agreed on a place pretty quickly after that.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We set a time for the next day, which seemed slightly odd since it was lunch time, but Mallochai seemed sure.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The next day, I came back wearing a different cute outfit. I also had a pistol on my hip; it’s just stupid to walk through Tribus unprotected. I was a touch late, but Mallochai took literally ten minutes after I knocked on his door to answer; I guess he was even more nervous than me, which is a good sign. When he finally opened the door, he was wearing some robes that were very fashionable, but which simply looked wrong on him. It was sort of adorable, like how he has a very well-cut Ad-Mech coat that’s the wrong size for him. He had arranged for an auto-carriage, so we went to the garage (and saw the monstrosity Caradoc modified; what does he even get up to on his time off???) and got going to Regio Primus.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">It was interesting seeing the transitions between the Regios. They were surprisingly distinct. We eventually got to Regio Primus, and to the restaurant Mallochai had found. It was themed around an ag-world I don’t know well, which is apparently famous for its unusual plant life. The leaves on the plants in the restaurant ranged from cobalt to violet, which felt bizarre. The waitress was really nice, though, and the food was excellent. I haven’t had real food since I left Piety of Seth. It didn’t taste nostalgic, though; it just tasted good.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Mallochai isn’t the most subtle person in the world, so we discussed the Inquisition right in the restaurant, though it was in hushed tones. He likes to hack files with vermilion-level clearance. That’s very dangerous and possibly heretical; I don’t think he means any harm by it, but he does know more than he probably should. I’ll have to keep an eye on that; there’s a thin line, sometimes, between curiosity and heresy, and there seems to be more to Mallochai than I thought. I’m not sure I like what I’ve found out about him; his intentions are good, certainly, but that doesn’t mean his actions are.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The drink he got with lunch didn’t have alcohol in it, and I hadn’t said anything about St. Denorus before that. I took that as a good sign.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We did talk about my religion, though, and I confused him by making it sound more binary than it is. He asked after my eye, and I told him that the trauma I experienced was not only from losing it, but from being drugged afterward, and he wondered how I could safely receive surgery without psychoactive pain killers, so I told him about the distinction the bishop had made. Sometimes, I wonder how personal and how social faith is; I would not have questioned the necessity of anesthetic at home, but I did when I came here and had a new chapel and a new bishop to answer to. I didn’t talk to him about that, though; just that I did have a safe and non-heretical surgery.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He tends to see things as very binary. He’s very analytical. I suppose what we learn first is what we learn best.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">After we ate, when we were both stuffed, we went to the Ecclesiarchal temple, but there was a parade of forgiveness (or whatever they’re called; I’m not that concerned with the petty politics of local nobility) that was somehow concerned with a local patriarch who recently died. I didn’t really understand. We decided to go to the temple of St. Denorus instead, so that I could show him where I base my faith and there wouldn’t be so many people around.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He liked the temple, I think. We talked about St. Denorus, about purity, and I told him about the ritual of disbelief in the sun, and how I now apply it to the fan, and he seemed to really like disbelieving in the fan. I think everyone here would be happier if it didn’t exist even though they’re miserable when it stops working. I think we all wish there were no need for the fan. As I discovered this morning, when I tried to put on some foundation, my skin is fading fast. It’s almost hard to believe that it suited me perfectly when I left Piety of Seth, and was perfectly serviceable when I got off the ship, but after only a month and a half it looks bright and dark against my skin. I suppose I didn’t realize how faded my skin was.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Still, I miss it less than my eye.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Oh! I forgot to mention: Mallochai offered to recalibrate my eye if it ever needs it. It felt really romantic, weirdly enough. Not the offer, I guess, but the way he said it. Like he wanted to take care of me. It was sweet.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">There was more that was said, of course, but it was mostly small talk: he likes the clarity of working for Magdalla; I want to move up in the Inquisition someday; normal things. There were some apprentice interrogators at the restaurant, on a trip with their superior, celebrating their initiation month. They were adorable. The ride back to the discaterium was quiet; we were both overfull and out of things to talk about, and I think he had socialized more than he’s used to. He walked me back to my room.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m not entirely sure what to think. I do like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but some of the things he’s done could be considered very heretical. I hate not knowing what to do; it’s paralyzing. People always say that I move not at all and then all at once, but how else can one move when dealing with something as delicate as heresy? So I said little to Lady Dee when faced with her team, but observed, and then, when the opportunity arose to expose her heresy, I took it. If Mallochai is heretical, I will have this journal to prove that I suspected.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I suppose a computer record is somewhat silly; someone who hacks vermilion-level walls could easily hack my data-slate. But it’s what I have unless I want to make my hand cramp up.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Perhaps I shouldn’t have written this at all.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">All this writing about facts has done little to convey what I felt. Mallochai’s presence makes all my emotions go crazy, and I was immensely happy every time he approved of what I said. The only dangerous thing is that I felt skeptical each time he discussed his possible heresies. That isn’t good; I shouldn’t bring my emotions into something so fact-based. It’s just hard to treat him impartially. But who can I talk to about something that could ruin his life if he’s convicted? A wrong move by me and he’ll be locked up and tortured, even if he’s innocent. I have to have a way to be sure.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Perhaps I should talk to Caradoc? He’s in the Adeptus Mechanicus; he’ll know more about which behaviors are heretical for Ad-Mechs and which aren’t.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Is he a Sage? I don’t think he is. I feel like that changes a lot; an Ad-Mech Sage would probably have a better handle than either of us on what’s normal curiosity and what’s heresy, but I don’t think I know any.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:16px;">M. Crema 10 419.M41  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Sessilie Journal 5- Session 5
<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Today was very interesting and even frightening. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Lady D’s cell has been released from prison and I’m concerned they’ll be out for blood.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">My cell and Karon were summoned to Sgt.-Arb. Magdalla’s office. When we got there, not only was there a lighter scent of Lho than usual, but her Amasec glass was empty. In her office were two women: Interrogator Callidon, who works for Inquisitor Tyreus, and her assistant, Temetria, who was less imposing but obviously still outranked everyone in my cell combined. They had come to free Lady D’s cell, but were unaware that Mallochai had been freed. Still, they had papers from Tyreus that authorized them to release the cell.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t know what Lady Dee will do now that she has free agency again. I’m worried that she’ll target me, specifically, as the spokesperson for my cell during the trial. I’m only glad that she’ll no longer have Mallochai to boss around. I think. I’m pretty sure Mallochai still works for Magdalla. I hope so.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Even Interrogator Callidon apologized for Tyreus’ temper. How did anyone ever respect him enough to make him an Inquisitor? I suppose he must have great skill in things other than diplomacy.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We then geared up and returned half an hour later to meet Inquisitor Vownus Kaede’s acolyte cell, which only came in today. Inquisitor Kaede is, apparently, good friends, or at least good allies, with Inquisitor Kainus. Inquisitor Kaede’s cell consisted of:

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Gerd Valerious: one of those men who’s built like a mountain; wore hive world robes; formerly an asher; simple and uneducated.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Lady Mycondria: A noblewoman; aloof, distant, and soft-spoken; a psyker educated like Marienne.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Leonne: Lady Mycondria’s psychic warden, a non-psyker with a psychic connection to the lady; a duelist for Lady Mycondria’s noble house and a swordswoman.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Alaric: a sharpshooter, the man accidentally swapped with Caradoc; formerly a member of the Imperial Guard; cynical.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We all walked together to the Ordo Famulous since Lady Mycondria was too special to take the train, so it took us an hour and a half. We learned a great deal there: first that the woman from last month’s surprise encounter after meeting Inquisitor Kainus may not have been the woman Magdalla was talking to before, since there are many women who look just like her. Second, some very sensitive information that I don’t feel comfortable writing into my data-slate. It would, however, be difficult to forget, and what is the point of a diary if not to help one remember?

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">After we left the Ordo Famulous, we were given another mission, only my cell (which now includes Karon): to detain Silva, the mechanic who looked so highly on Mallochai, for heresy. The garage was on lockdown, and we intended to lift the lockdown only briefly so no one could run or drive away, but it couldn’t be reinstated once it was lifted. We tried to approach him in a friendly way, and I dropped Mallochai’s name so he would think we thought well of him, but Marienne’s mental grappling with him didn’t work and we got into a car chase that led to multiple people escaping (in Discaterium autocarriages, no less), three arrests, several wrecked autocarriages (including Karon’s armored one; I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or not) and multiple people killed, including Silva. I recovered Silva’s data-slate and cognomen, but the data-slate was locked under vermilion-level clearance. This all makes me wonder how many people in the Discaterium regularly hack vermilion-level clearance and why the Ad-Mechs and Tech Priests haven’t figured out more secure protocols.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Magdala was disappointed, naturally, but we had done all we could do and we did recover three heretics. Undoubtedly, Mallochai is working on Silva’s data-slate right now. I should not feel as ambivalent about that as I do.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I only hope things are still as the God-Emperor intended and that I have not failed Him through inaction. Surely, He must know that I always wait to be certain. I have done that since I can remember. Still, I can’t help feeling as though this is a test designed to teach me not to trust my emotions or to take action quickly. On the other hand, heresy in any form is extremely serious and I would never want to ruin anyone’s life unless I was certain they deserved it. Perhaps I should strive to be less merciful, but is not the God-Emperor merciful?

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m not completely sure of what I should be doing anymore. I really need to talk to Caradoc and then to Mallochai again. This is all so confusing.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t remember things being this hard before I lost my eye.

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<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:16px;">M. Crema 13 419 M.41  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Sessilie Journal 6 – Session 6
<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">It was the Festival of Healed Earth. I’d long since registered it as a religious holiday with the Discaterium. I was out in Tribus at 8:30 so that I could catch the train and be at the 9:00 mass. The bishop, as always, didn’t disappoint, though he does lack the vigor of the bishop I knew on Piety. It was a fairly straightforward Healed Earth mass: readings from the part of St. Denorus’ writings about purifying the water and the earth and the improvement of the people afterward, and talking to the people of the Crematorium about how His teachings can be interpreted to suit their lives. It’s a difficult faith to have on a hive world, where everything is synth; I have nothing but respect for all who uphold the faith here. Then again, when you have seen the truth of St. Denorus’ words, how could you even pretend to believe in anyone else? The festive foods here are similar to those on Piety of Seth, but as I pointed out, most of the food here is synth. I’m not even sure anymore what it is that makes synth food taste different from real food, but it just tastes less wholesome. Perhaps there is an energy in grown food that is given to it by the earth and water that went into its making. There is a lot of energy in earth and water that people pretend not to notice.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I haven’t felt the ground in a very long time. It’s been so long, I had forgotten to miss it. I remember it every time I stand on the dirt in the planters outside the temple. They feel more like home than anything else here even though their energy is not the energy of the soil on Piety.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Even though it was synth, it was still festival food, and it was the sacred foods of St. Denorus. Somehow, saints’ foods don’t change much. I could be on that Agri-world represented by that nice restaurant Mallochai took me to and I’m sure people would still make grox hand-pies and vegetable loaf and custard shots for the festivals of St. Denorus. Nothing has quite the right texture here, but it was good enough. It tasted enough like home for me. It all caused me to reflect that, perhaps, home is less about where you live and more about who you live with. I have never felt so comfortable here as I did celebrating with other devotees of St. Denorus. When the bishop poured water on my forehead, I felt truly forgiven and loved and invigorated. I knew in that moment that St. Denorus held nothing against me for having a bionic eye, or for taking my time investigating heresies, or with any of the other things I have been questioning. Forgiveness is truly a beautiful thing.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I met many people there. Perhaps I can form some good friendships in the church. Friends of your own religion are always good friends. There is no reason to feel on-edge around them, wondering if they harbor impurities that they think don’t matter. You can be more honest with them.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I also spent at least an hour dancing, probably much more. I knew most of the dances, but some were new to me. I LOVED the Crematorium-specific dances; they were so fun!!! There was one I had never even conceived of before where we split up into pairs and spun in circles, locked in a slightly odd embrace, which was a bit dizzy, but also very sexy and if I weren’t flirting with Mallochai, I may have gone home with someone. It was an excellent festival.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">At home, we dance to bring the power of the earth closer to the surface, to where it can reach the things we interact with – topsoil and rivers and the like. I wonder what people here dance for. I never actually asked. I am sure it is very holy, though; there is seldom a feeling of purity in the Crematorium.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I got home in the early evening, expecting to get some dinner and have a quiet evening alone, but as I got back to the Discaterium, I saw the rest of my cell wandering in! I called out to them, excited to tell them about the festival, but as I approached them I saw that they looked exhausted. It turns out that there was some sort of major psychic disturbance in the lower levels of the Crematorium somewhere, so bad that even Callidon wanted their help, and they escaped with their lives but they were much the worse for wear mentally. They looked a bit haggard physically, too, but not crippled or anything. Then Karon took us to see something which I really do not feel comfortable writing about virtually. I shall get a notebook and continue this tomorrow morning.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">_--_--_--_--_--

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Let’s hope my hand doesn’t cramp up; there’s a lot to write here.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Karon took us to a room in a kowloon where he has connections. In it were plaster images of his cellmates from before they died. Apparently, he had an experience with them similar to one my cellmates had today, where they were commanded by a psychic “voice” to swim through the ash-plaster. I did notice blobs of gray in Marienne’s hair; I hope my cellmates weren’t harmed too badly while I was away, celebrating. My only defense is that this truly is a sacred day and I have always celebrated the Festival of Healed Earth. I suppose that doesn’t sound like too terribly big a deal to most people, but this is an extremely important day for me, a high holiday if you will.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">The surprising thing, I think, is that Karon’s teammates were somehow alive after they were made into images. He saw this and knew that their very existence was heretical, so he led them into the ambush supposedly run by Lady Dee.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">This is the part where things get really dicey. It turns out that, although Magdala runs the Discaterium, the reason there are so few people and facilities in it is that the bulk of acolyte cells and resources are commanded by Interrogator Callidon; the only reason my cell is under Mag instead of Callidon is that Inquisitor Kainus is less powerful than many other Inquisitors. The switch happened when the other cells learned what we learned in the Ordo Famulous: that she has ordered pyromancers bred to be her own personal army. She probably forged Inquisitor Kainus’ signature for the funds, or had it forged by Casio.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Now, more than ever, I need to talk to an Ad-Mech. I need to know whether it is inherently heretical to habitually hack vermilion-level clearance, or if good intentions may excuse it. The pecking order in the Discaterium as it is now is Magdala>Casio>Mallochai, and while I don’t want Magdala leading it, knowing what I know, I also don’t want Casio leading it because he’s an insincere leech. Even if Mallochai isn’t a heretic, I’m not entirely convinced that he should be given a position with so much authority. People who have never held authority take two responses to it: to become timid and fail in their duties or to grab for more insatiably. I have learned too much by trying to set things straight to assume that Mallochai would lean toward either of those, but knowing him, he would stick to his choice wholeheartedly.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Perhaps I am being too hard on him. Perhaps he really would be a good leader. After all, he’s excellent at regicide. I just don’t want to take that chance. Our best option, at this point, is to interfere with the line of succession, to insert our cell into that top position. If Tyreus were a fair and good person, I would be entirely comfortable restoring Int. Callidon to power in the Discaterium after we oust Mag, but as things are now, he has sworn our destruction and that is simply not something we can work with. Also, Inquisitor Kainus told us to claim as much power in his name as we could, so the command of such a large group would be a perfect way to gain favor.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">This all makes me nervous. In order to truly justify keeping Casio out of command, I will have to confess to my team what he did for me, and they will know I lied to Inquisitor Kainus. They will think me lovestruck, but where do emotions come from if they are not planted within us by the God-Emperor? I know that what I did could very easily be seen as heretical, but the fact remains that, in reality, it was not.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I must have seemed such a fool to Mallochai. He must know all about Mag’s skeevy dealings and heresies. Why did he not mention them? Why did he not tell me that the ambush was planned with Karon?

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Why did I not think something was up when I saw them playing Regicide? I suppose I thought that Ad-Mechs always stick together. And they do, after a fashion. I still should have caught that.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Even stranger, it turns out that Silva, the heretic from the garage, was working under Int. Callidon. He infiltrated the Burning Whatever cult under her orders.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I feel awful for what I have done in ignorance. Lady Dee’s cell did not deserve any of their prison time, nor did Silva deserve to die. I am ready to usurp power.

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<span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">I only hope I am strong enough to tell my cellmates about that signature.

<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">M. Crema 14 419 M.41 Sessilie Journal 7 – Solo Session 4 (Session 6)
<span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">Today has been interesting in ways that should not be exclusively written electronically, but I do like my hands and want to keep them functioning for as long as possible. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I talked to Karon, who confirmed for me that Mallochai is not a heretic (or a heretek, since Ad-Mechs always need to feel special, particularly Karon) and also that he liked the date we had! <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I suppose I shouldn’t mention that since Mallochai told it to Karon in confidence and if there’s anything I’ve learned here, it’s that my files aren’t secure, but should Mallochai read this, he should know that I felt the same way. <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">  <span style="font-family:'TimesNewRoman',serif;font-size:12pt;">I can’t wait to see him again, though there’s a lot of business to get done before I’ll have time for romance again.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I suppose this is where I transfer over to my journal; there isn’t much I discussed with Karon that wasn’t confidential. I suppose this should all be manual, but somehow it felt like there was more that needed only medium security.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">_--_--_--_--

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I searched for Caradoc, but he had disappeared completely, so I went to see Karon because I needed an Ad-Mech.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">When I got to his room, I heard crying from inside, but I knocked anyway; crying is not always as private as we like to think. It was Leon, from Vownus’ cell, who was crying, though she told me not to let anyone know. Karon did have time for me then, so Leon left (I felt bad about that; I didn’t mean to kick out someone in distress) and I went in.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">He really needs to learn to control his hair dye. I dye my hair, too, but I don’t get splatters over every surface of my room. I swear, some of it was on the ceiling. I don’t even understand how.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I also thanked the God-Emperor for my filtration plugs in that Lho-filled room. I got right down to business and told Karon I suspected someone of heresy for hacking vermilion-level clearance, and he caught on immediately and said that “hypothetical” person wasn’t, so either he’s telling the truth or they’re committing a greater heresy together. I wouldn’t put it past Karon and Mallochai is secretive, whether intentionally or not.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">We discussed the order of succession within the Discaterium and I told Karon my concerns about Casio. He suggested I talk to Echanis, Cassio’s steward. He then told me the things about Mallochai.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I ended up telling him that I had lied to Kainus. I was dying to tell anyone. It was unbelievably stupid. When I told Karon that I had looked for Caradoc earlier, he said that he thought Caradoc was reporting to Kainus, who’s in a hive an hour and a half north from here, Tricorn Palace. I hope he isn’t telling Kainus about our learnings in the Ordo Famulous because that’s the only thing I have to offer that might get me out of this mess. I don’t want to be tortured. Ever. But no one believes you if you buckle under just the threat of torture. I see no reason, though, why I should be proud in the face of an Inquisitor; there is no way in which he is not better than me. Or even an Interrogator; I heard the Master Interrogator teaching his students how to tell the best possible methods from a glance; I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that training. I just want to serve the Inquisition as best I can, and in an unplanned moment, I decided that getting my teammates to think I worked only legally was more important than speaking the truth to my Inquisitor. I entirely expect to be punished for that, but I don’t want to die and become a servitor. I don’t want to die at all.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Relatedly, I did talk to Echanis. I waited until Casio had left his office, then knocked on the door; apparently, Echanis never leaves. That makes a lot of sense, having met him.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Echanis is a very nervous person. He wanted to be an artist who painted with ash, which I love in concept, but apparently he wasn’t very good, so now he’s a filing clerk, which he’s very good at, but it tortures him. He wants to be a servitor so that he won’t have to feel emotions anymore. What’s more, if our plan goes well, he wants to be my servitor. Not Cassio’s; mine. We may have to kill Cassio in the process, which would mean losing a good clerk who does know his job well despite my complaints against him, but we can’t let Mag have power and we can’t let Cassio have power and Karon said that Mallochai would probably willingly step down if we asked, and I won’t let Cassio ruin our chance at claiming power for Inquisitor Kainus. That will not do and it cannot be allowed.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I only hope that my transgressions don’t endanger my teammates. I was really stupid. I never meant anything bad to happen.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Am I the only person who thinks Inquisitors almost don’t feel real? They have the power of demigods; it’s hard to believe that a human can wield the power to destroy planets without intentionally believing in it, like I believe in a sunless sky or a fan-less ceiling. They seem ethereal, like their concerns are so much bigger than people like me that nothing I do could possibly be of consequence to them. That was my mistake, I think, because of course Inquisitors are people, if extremely powerful people, and of course no one likes to be lied to. I just wanted my friends to trust me. Your team is the group you fight with, and the group you die with if you die. They feel real. They’re real almost no matter what you do. Even if they smoke lho, even if they drink recaf and alcohol, you put your lives on the line together and that’s a bond no one can create or remove by outranking you. I wanted them to trust me like I trust them. I wanted them to think I was a good person who would never forge documents. I want to think I’m a good person who would never forge documents. I just wanted good people to be happy; I wanted Mallochai to be free and my team to trust me and Tyreus not to deny me his signature just because I was the one doing the paperwork. Heck, I even want Inquisitor Tyreus to be happy, though without destroying my cell or Inquisitor Kainus. There is more than one way to be faithful, and clashing opinions are not always heretical, possibly even at an Inquisitorial level. It occurs to me that this may be my final journal entry, depending on how quickly things move and which verdict is reached, and that frightens me, so I will finish with: I wish safety and happiness for all good people in this Empire. Not only the people whose views intersect with mine, but all who are true to the God-Emperor and do their best to uphold His wishes, and if I’m killed or turned into a servitor to better serve the God-Emperor, at least I’ll be performing my best service for the God-Emperor with nothing approaching heresy entering my mind.

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Letter to Inquisitor Kainus
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">My Lord Inquisitor Kainus,

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Obviously, there is no excuse for my dishonesty to you and no apology that could be adequate, but I feel that I do owe you an explanation. I apologize for taking so long in writing this; I have an illness that makes me tired, so it took a while to edit, as my mind is clouded over most of the time with fatigue.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I have kept a journal since I started working in the Crematorium. There is a digital one, which I have attached, and a physical one, which I have also attached, though in picture format, and it is the one that contains musings which I was worried could sound heretical, though they aren’t. I never intended to show either to anyone, though privacy in the Discaterium was questionable at best and I was entirely aware that writing my true feelings in the physical journal could provide proof of my faith, since it is entirely true. I have highlighted all of the parts where I discuss heresy, mine and others’, and when I discuss the time I lied to you.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">On the matter of Mallochai: I do not believe he intends heresy. That does not always make one’s actions okay, but it does count for something. However, it concerns me that he yelled at you for threatening me. I very much want to be close to him, but I am not so attached that I lose all thought around him; if he puts me before the God-Emperor in his mind, he is not worthy of my affection. The first concern of all people should be the God-Emperor, in whatever ways He manifests Himself. However, I also know how fear can make people rash, as it made me rash when I lied to you about forging Inquisitor Tyreus’ signature. When I forged it, Mallochai seemed to me too weak-willed for Lady Dee’s heresies to be his fault. I’ve learned much about him since, but if he has committed heresies, they were not because of Lady Dee’s influence. Please believe me when I tell you that I only had Inquisitor Tyreus’ signature forged because I knew he would never agree to sign anything at my request. He had made it abundantly clear that he wanted my cell eradicated, so I was too fearful to ask.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">I do not know if you were interested in my motivations, but my chest ached when I thought of you not knowing why I lied to you. I have immense respect and love for you as my Inquisitor and I am nothing but proud to serve you. I feel in my soul that the God-Emperor wanted me to serve you for my betterment and your glory.

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<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Your loyal acolyte,

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sessilie Roth

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