Cybersyn Control Station

- Apocryphal quote, normally attributed to the Vicar
A loud explosion followed by what seemed to be a pig screaming in pain woke up Anselmo in what seemed to be the middle of the night, judging by the distance of the sound the only reasonable explanation is that the generator feeding the local Synco terminal had been bitten through by a pig looking for a meal in the wrong place and, unfortunately, that also meant the entire electric grid of the town would be down until someone found a solution to his issue.

Anselmo, being the only technician in this town, was of course that someone.

As he dragged out of bed and refreshed himself to prepare for a long journey towards installing a replacement for chewed-through wires, he actually wondered why the government even bothered installing a station on what was basically a glorified watering hole for Llama herders who passed through this scorched land, an oft forgotten town located in that place where the borders between Chile and Bolivia blurr and are more of a suggestion than a reality. That they even bothered to connect a village whose population's shy of a hundred souls, half of whom don't speak spanish to begin with, tells a lot about the genuine intentions of this government. This was this new century's Post Office, he told himself smugly, having read about how in the days of yore this peculiar institution was the first one to be founded, next to the church and the Town Hall, to demonstrate the presence of the central government even in the most remote of locations.

Anselmo was all too aware of the government's program, not so much due to his political interest, which wasn't particularly high, but because he often took advantage of his access to the vast encyclopedia of knowledge offered through the Terminal's database, which is in turn connected to the central station beneath Santiago thanks to short-wave wireless communication. He did this often in his spare time, which he did have plenty of, as a technician serving terminals found in the vast nothingness that is the Atacama desert often has.

Not that he envied the luck of his southern counterparts, he thought, as he started up his car he heard the, probably embellished, tales of the brave men and women who dared to cross jungle, glaciers and untamed wilds from the Great Chaco to the unforgiving Patagonia in the quest to give an entire nation a mind and a shared soul, a single network that would bring people closer than they would have ever been.

With a subtle rumble the engine of his Yamana car finally started, a local design fabricated in a city to the north, it was a testament to cheap design, the car lacked a roof, it's "door" was more of a chain that separated the driver's seat from the outside and the seats were actually part of the chassis, however, it ran and it somehow could venture through the harsh terrain of the desert without getting stuck nor jamming, so it seemed they at least had done right in this joke of a car.

As he moved towards where he presumed the explosion had ocurred, he actually had the clarity of mind to wonder about who exactly even bothers to raise pigs in the Puna out of all places?
This thought would have probably entertained him through the rest of his journey if it weren't due to the extraordinary events that would soon unfold before his eyes.

The night sky became clear as day as a distinct humming sound could be heard, surprisingly enough, this wasn't something unheard of to him, as many amateur UFOlogists and random excentrics often prowled this region on their way of remote mountain camps and abandoned towns, rambling about purple beast roaming the desert nights and strange vehicles crossing the sky, he'd been warned that *somethings* had caught particular interest in this specific sector of the planet and that in case this ocurred, he better not watch to the sky to save himself from the machinations of creatures whose thoughts are unfathomable by man.

This was of course impossible to do in the piece of junk he that was his alleged car. So he couldn't help but watch as a hapless alpaca, not too far from where he had detained, was being dragged towards the sky by an airship most peculiar in shape. Normally this'd been but an awkward anecdote, something he'd only willingly tell anonymously through a disparaged entry in the Cybersyn network, while keeping quiet in his normal day to day life, while keeping him awake with nightmares in his nightly torment. This was, however, not to be, for chance should soon show that life can be way more unpredictable than what a mere man can think. As quickly as the nightsky had cleared, it just lit up twice as bright, as a faded yellowish beam burst from some point in the mountains nearby, hitting the hull of this most peculiar aerial vehicle in a hit that sounded more like a punch than an explosion, not far behind him a fleet of jeeps came out of nowhere and raced through the desert, flak covering the nightsky as drones flew by and what presumably where enemy drones were being deployed by this eldritch skyship that was steadily losing altitude.

A squadron of soldiers hastily descended from an APV that arrived behind these jeeps and assembled an improvised camp to coordinate the communications that were being held amongst all these moving arms. This indubitably was the local garrison of the National Defense Committee, but he couldn't help but wonder just how did they manage to get here so fast, act so swiftly and accurately in a place where mere minutes ago he thought himself alone with the vastness of eternity. It's almost as if they had prepared this ambush, but then, how could they even know... and is that an armored lizard being dragged off the downed ship?

Once again, his thoughts didn't get their proper opportunity to parse in his mind, as one of the soldiers located in this theater quickly signaled him to come over and explain exactly what was he doing in the site of a confrontation. After trying to mumble an answer he was quickly approached by a bald officer wearing a two piece suit, a certainly strange view even amongst the odd events he'd been dragged into, he consulted a makeshift computer that rested on top of an equally improvised plastic table that was being dragged off a van, the roar of the diesel engine powering this wonder of technology almost muffled the interrogation of this peculiar character who, without delay, had indexed and obtained the entire credentials of Anselmo Rojas Mamani, aged 33, single and graduated as an electrical engineer from the Technical School of Tarapaca.

He explained, as calmly as the occasion would allow, that the town and basically the entire sector he had been overseeing had been evacuated, for the protection of the inhabitants and the inevitable retaliation that this enemy would bring.

He said, moreover, that given the gravity of the situation he was now a prime candidate for permanent employment in one of the new Cybervillas the Federation was building, the contract would begin immediately and the personnel in location would make sure he'd be at his new employment site by next morning, his belongings and accomodations prepared already for his arrival.

he was **strongly** advised to take this opportunity.

Anselmo gasped, cleared his throat, and wondered if he'd ever see the light of day again.

 **Detailed Information** | •