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The image on the screen in Rodin’s medibay split, showing two versions of Don. One was in high resolution, almost as if the man was in the room. The other was distorted, the image shaky, often dropping out. The sound was different, too—Rodin could hear Don in total clarity, but there was another layer, rougher, as distorted as the image.
“I trust you can all see and hear me,” Don said, and now Rodin noticed a difference in his head position—in the rougher image he stared straight ahead, but in the clear feed he looked to the side—a different Eye, then, for each one.
“I apologise for the quality of this communication,” Don continued, as the distorted image crackled with static. “Your captors haven’t made it easy for us, but we’ve removed many of their barriers, and we’re
