The succulence of the steak was so real in my mind it was like I had enjoyed it only one day before. The tender cut of my knife through its flesh; the spicy contrast of peppercorns with the juicy perfection of medium rare. It had been such a good steak, made even better by the company that evening.

Sure, there had been a cornucopia of breathtakingly whorish women about at the restaurant, but it was the short, broad shouldered Caldari male who had invited me for dinner that made it so pleasant.

Garlon Das was not at all what I had expected, though I really had no preconceptions formed. I guess I was just shocked to find any Caldari so witty and intelligent, possessing so many common topics of interest with me. I had known many Caldari in my lifetimes, but there were few I would call enjoyable; it simply wasn’t in their personalities.

—

“He’s retreating further into his delusional state. He’s becoming increasingly detached from reality, which is exponentially increasing his chances of full synaptic meltdown.”

The dean of psychiatric medicine from Pator University trembled visibly. He was among the top three in the universe at unraveling the mysteries of the human mind, even that of the capsuleer, and was considered the foremost authority on neurodegeneration.

—

We spoke of healthy lifestyle choices, of lazy minded, self-entitled capsuleers that while possessed of augmented proficiency within a ship, often neglected their physical selves, some rarely leaving the womb of the pod itself. It was a struggle we all faced as eggers, but losing our humanity to the lure of an easy living technological lifestyle was hardly a smart trade off.

“We’ve seen machines rebel before, Roc. Look at the Drone Regions.” Garlon said.

I couldn’t tell if Garlon was one for conspiracy theories or if he was talking from his own personal nightmares.

“I think the key with anything is balance.” I said between mouthfuls of steamed asparagus. “Too many overreact and swing in the opposite direction. This can be just as ‘off the mark’ as their original position. This applies to diet and drones both.” I said with a smirk.

—

“There are some more radical therapies we could try, but as of yet the Senate hasn’t approved my request for lower grade testing clones.” The dean spoke very quickly, completely transparent in his fear.

A gruff voice spoke. “Make sure he gets the best care possible, doctor, no matter what the expense.”

The dean nodded perhaps too enthusiastically, bowing, backpedaling, just wanting to be out of the presence of the other man.

—

“We will definitely have to do this again.” Garlon said at the end of the evening.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” I replied.

We gave our salutes and headed our separate ways.

AN HOUR LATER

He returned to his office, not bothering to turn on the lights. He knew his way around without even having to look. He sat in his comfortable, hand finished leather chair, and glided his hands gently over his desk.

He stopped suddenly, tilting his head, sniffing the air twice before smiling and speaking.

“Are you certain this is his path, seer?” Maleatu Shakor asked of the darkness.

“I have seen it.” Gigaer replied, emerging from the corner shadows.

Shakor spoke from the heart, “I pray you are right. The republic depends on it.”