<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=119103.msg5208550#msg5208550">Quote from: Wintercat on 14-09-2011, 16:12:07</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>Paradox (NYC)</strong><br/><br/>"You're not supposed-" The woman sighed seeing him head to the door, then nodding. "Fine. What do you need?" She moved to join him, the two soldiers outside the room looking at Paradox warily. The area they were in had large doors further off, with a sturdy lock on this side, a wall-sign reading <em>Research Department</em> and under it <em>Trespassers will be Prosecuted</em>. The doors next to them, leading to the rest of the hospital area perhaps, were marked with red tape over them at the handle's height.<br/><br/>There were a lot of computers in a larger room at the back, with glass window along with a tight metal netting. Faraday cage. Whatever was in the Faraday Cage was isolated, there was no network connection to what remained within it. The build of that cage was serving its purpose, isolating them entirely. If the look of the armored glass and the lock in the door were to be trusted, it was a very secure build as well. Not to mention it looked airtight. Someone had put a lot of effort into making that room.<br/><br/>There were other machines nearby as well, but the woman moving ahead paused before a door behind which Paradox could feel less 'secured' machines, several computers set at ready. <br/><br/>"I suppose you can wander some but I want those proof today, and you cant cross any doors marked with a red stripe." Her tone was entirely serious. "What do you need?" She watched him, careful, but the soldiers relaxed at the spot.<br/><br/><hr/><br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/><strong>Paradox (NYC)</strong><br/><br/>Paradox smiles, approaching her with gaining strength. Well- more the door behind her but he wants to be a bit dramatic.<br/><br/>"<strong>Alright, a little bit of Future History for you.<br/><br/>Fact number 1- In 2012, the human population is about 7 billion.  In 2284, the human population is about 4 thousand. There has been no year of positive population growth in over 200 years.<br/><br/>Fact number 2- while you're still trying to get a handle on what exactly is a meta-human we of 2284 have this question firmly established. WE are metahumanity. 78% of the human race has at least one metahuman ability. I, for example, have a superhumanly high tolerance to radiation.<br/><br/>Fact number 3- while 78% of us are metahumans, only about a dozen of us aren't Augmented somehow. There's a movement among our artists and poets to not be augmented. To let the last of us die as people, proud of what they are and accomplished. And you know what- the rest of us can respect that. Even agree with them. All of our cybernetics, nanotech augments, our genetic engineering- and we'd lay down our lives for some luddites because they give some meaning to the word Human. <br/><br/>The rest of us have to settle for tools that look like damn magic to you apes. Observe.</strong>" he replies, building in anger.<br/><br/>Pointing to the room of the unshielded computers, sending instructions from files in his own database with the simple purpose of telling them to make some noise.<br/><br/>"<strong>And frankly, based on first impressions I liked Carter a lot more then I liked you. The Carter's of the world know that life is for living, while based on the first impression- you and people like you are the reason there's only 4 thousand of us left. You were handed a planet of clean air, green grass, space, and life and you burned it all to make money. You hear me? You. Burned. The. Sky. Because. You. Thought. You'd. Make. Money. From. It.<br/><br/>The only reason I'm not ripping up the tape and making a break for it is that you stupid apes need a reality check.</strong>" he is practically howling in rage before he stops himself. Pulling back, there's a moment of self chastising before he continues.<br/><br/>"<strong>I'm sorry. That. . .wasn't nice. Just yelling at you all won't help. I need to show you. I'll need any files you've put together about me and my arrival, and access to the computers in that room.</strong>"