Compete by Norilana Books Page A

Earth native’s perspective. When we arrive on Atlantis, it will be added to our library records and become a part of our common historical record.”
    “Oh, wow!” I exclaim, unable to hold back. “That’s actually amazing, I would love to do this!”
    “Yes, I know,” he says, looking seriously at me. “You are very bright and observant, extremely detail-oriented, and that’s part of the reason I chose you for this task, after having looked over your school records and other details in your personal file.”
    “I have a file?” I say.
    “Everyone does. The information from your Earth schools—in fact your entire education and life history—has been compiled and tallied, together with your Qualification record. Your ID token now holds your complete Earth identity and history. Same goes for every other Qualified teenager from Earth on this ship and in the whole Fleet.”
    I allow that to sink in.
    “A secondary part of your duties,” he continues, “will be to assist me in day-to-day regular office tasks, together with my two other regular aides—whom you will meet soon. For that purpose you will learn as much as you can about all functions of the ship. I give you permission to interview the crew and to take notes. You may also come and go freely on all decks, including all four Command Decks, and this office—I’ve granted your token ID access to enter here, and to use the computer systems at this desk with a basic entry-level clearance. The guards have been notified to allow you to enter freely. If asked, you are always to say you are an Aide to the CCO.”
    He pauses, and then pulls down one hinged mech arm from the equipment wall behind him, and lowers a display screen with a floating keypad. He swings it around to show me the screen.
    I see a login screen and a tablet-style virtual touch-pad English keyboard directly on the screen. Meanwhile the physical keypad below has what looks like alien hieroglyphics, which I realize is the Atlantean character set.
    Aeson swings the Atlantean keyboard aside and snaps it closed underneath the display, then rotates the screen even more, so that it lies flat like a tablet before me. “This way you can do data entry in English,” he says. “For now. Because your third task is to begin to learn Atlantean. I expect you to have a basic understanding of our core language by the time we arrive on Atlantis.”
    “Okay,” I say. “I can do that. This is all great. I am really excited to be doing this!”
    “Good. Your duties will begin tomorrow, eight AM, sharp. First thing when you get here, we will work out your training schedule so that it does not interfere with your duties.”
    He pauses for a moment, watching me. It seems he is considering what he is about to say next. “As far as your special voice training—it will be incorporated into your regular schedule. But we will have it off the record. ”
    “Oh?” I say. “What do you mean? In what sense?”
    He continues looking at me with a complex expression, and the long pause extends, becoming unusual.
    “Your voice training will literally not be recorded on your schedule. We’re going to keep your Logos voice as much as possible a secret ,” he says at last. “Yes, it’s true that a number of people in the Fleet currently know about it, including several of my officers, and quite a few of your fellow Qualified Candidates, especially those who were with you at the Pennsylvania RQC-3, and witnessed you levitate that shuttle. . . . Regrettably, there’s nothing that can be done in that regard. However, we can minimize any new dissemination of this. From this point onward, you will not mention it to anyone new, including any of your new Instructors here in the Fleet. If asked, you deny it, or change the subject. And then later you report it to me. Any questions, any inquiries about your Logos voice—you tell me immediately.”
    “Okay. But—why?” I ask.
    His gaze upon me is hard and intense.