Shy but Deadly

Galea is beyond any vain assertions that she will "never admit" to the promise of the Conduit, to the staggering enormity of potential godhood.

She simply doesn't believe in it. It isn't there. What the Conduit wreaks is only destruction, untenable and untameable.

There are other ways to achieve transcendence, within this fading sphere, without calling upon absolution. She will be prepared for whatever may come, regardless of if and when that inadvisable button is ever pressed, pushed, forced.

What is there to tempt? How could she ever be swayed? She has work, steady work, and she pours her soul into it.

So much of her soul that one night while Galea is performing routine conversational checks upon the Trinity Processor, she glances toward the Conduit's containment chamber, plexigas heavily tinted and several times several inches thick, to find a face there staring back at her.

Purple eyes. Purple hair.

Whose petty trick? Perhaps Logos, and not only because of the palette.

"Very funny. I expect that to be gone by station morning."

Galea works late, but never through the night. It isn't like Logos to play tricks on her - more Ontos, to leave clever hints.

A message comes through at the terminal, accompanied by no artificial intelligence text to speech function.

"It's not safe for me here..."

Oh, Galea wants to blow it off, but at what cost?

Those eyes keep watching her.