Security Level: 33
Online Name: Apparatchik
Country of Origin: Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (Former)
Origin of Powers: Technology
Powers: Empathy /
Some days there is more, some hint of a time before, some moment of deja-vu where watching a father carry his son fills me with the certainty that I have been both of them at one time or another.
But these are feelings, not memories. My world starts on November 13, 1984, in fire. There was an explosion, confusion. The rocket that was supposed to launch me towards the West had exploded, and I was launched by the escape rockets into the sky. They had also failed.
I landed in the control bunker.
My suit, Dr Zhukolov's "synergistic von neumann machines", myriad as one, was deformed, casting about, trying to rebuild itself, its environment, me. It found the computer system and tried to interface with it. --more failure. The systems crashed, hard. Containment fields failed. Fail-safes failed disengaged.
I don't know how many died. I try not to think about it. I've spent years training my mind to control the suit as I can control minds. I've finally turned it off in places, calmed it, given it a new form.
They took to calling me The Apparatchik, for in that initial confusion, I was masked, a prisoner inside an intimate cell. All I knew was that I served The Party, and The Party must survive counter-revolution and fascism.
I've grown since them. I've transformed my iron fists to something kinder. Now I fight for The People, for the Party is dead without them.