The Luzian device smoothly unfolds, its twin faces looking away from each other.

The Luzian device smoothly unfolds, its twin faces looking away from each other.

Consider the design.

An unusual one. It looks nothing like the Luzian gadgets you have seen before.

It's evident that this is not a consumer product. It is commissioned by a select few and spurred by a grim agenda.

In effect, a declaration.

What does it declare?

That the future belongs to La Luz. A world where great audio-visual processions broadcast hope across the cold firmament and cerebral networks connect all smiles.

I look forward to proving that wrong.

You may, but for now, their device is in your hands.

Sounds lame.

This future does not care about your opinion. There's no place for you there anyway.

This techno-fascist future seems to get better and better.

It awaits you with open hinges and arrays of sensors to track your every desire and project it into existence.

THERE IS A POCKMARKED FIRING WALL AWAITING THE OPERANTS WHO ENTERTAIN THESE REACTIONARY DREAMS, EVEN IN THE PRIVACY OF THEIR OWN MIND.

Your ancestors would have run from this.

My ancestors were cowards, unlike me.

Be glad they were. Cowards may soil themselves, but they eventually reproduce. The curious just linger and die.

Maybe I should run too?

Yet here you remain, straddling the threshold between survival and revelation.

Turn on the device.

<< AVE IMPERIO LUMINOSO >> The screen boots up with the salute of the Luzian empire.

A technofascist future dawns.

STOP YOUR REACTIONARY MISADVENTURES RIGHT THIS INSTANT!

High five the salute.

The salute is indifferent.

All that's left to do is to use this immense power. Reactivate your double. Clone your consciousness.

Stare.

Nod disapprovingly.

The device's shell pulses red for a moment. The screen remains blank.

Out of battery-juice.

Look for the battery compartment.

You flip the device around and find a translucent triangle on the back panel which slides open to reveal three small pyramidal batteries.

What kind of batteries are those?

Luzian, evidently.

Spent.

Take out the batteries.

All that remains in the empty compartment are three contact pads, their gold-plated outlines matching the shape of the inert batteries.

What now?

Now you look for replacement batteries.

Search for Luzian electronics. Expensive, newest generation.

If it's foreign and lights up and/or vibrates, it might work.

Your precious Wolf Sword, for instance.

The Fuckwand already in your possession would seem to tick all the boxes.

The special camera you got from Ignatz. It must belong to the same order of Luzian tech.

The boy in the bazaar was quite proud of his wolf sword.

The future appears depressingly familiar...

Devices still need power. This basic fact is yet to change.

Swap in the batteries from the Luzian Camera.

Careful, you need a working camera for Ignatz's gig. No batteries, no gig.

Fück that guy, and fück his creep gig.

Do it.

With ease, you pry open the Luzian camera and extract its batteries.

Sorry Ignatz, but not today...

You transfer the batteries to the imprinting device. The pyramidal cells click into place, as if they always belonged there.

A low current pulses through the device in your hands.

The thing was probably recording everything I was doing anyway.

Don't do it.

You take your hand off the battery compartment.

Remember that Ignatz's assignment is pending. Best leave that camera alone -- for now.

Swap in the fuckwand's batteries.

With ease, you pry open the Luzian sex toy and extract its batteries.

I hardly knew thee...

Eh, I prefer the real thing.

Gross.

Swap in the Wolf Sword's batteries.

As you open the sword's hilt and extract its batteries, the plastic blade splits apart, rendering everything but the batteries unusable.

Thank you for your service.

Let out a low, sad howl.

Never got the appeal.

Alright. (Put the device away.)

You feel it calling for you as you slip it away.

You cradle the device in your hands. A sleek rhomboid brick that opens along a barely-visible fault line, into something vaguely the shape of a typewriter.

The side that hinges outward features thin screens and sensors evidently meant for scanning biometrics of some kind, whereas the stationary side is occupied by a small control panel.

Futuristic, yet legible. Cool.

Nice. (Run your finger over it.)

Life, death and consciousness manipulated by the turn of a single dial -- can you believe it?

A FASCIST DREAM OF A WORLD ENTIRELY MEDIATED BY MACHINES. THROW IT AWAY. THROW IT AWAY NOW.

I'm not sure I want to control this.

Lighten up! And besides -- if you do not, the day will come when it controls you. Best to be an early adopter.

This technology does not belong to your generation. You have stumbled by chance onto something that not even your grandchildren were meant to be looking at.