The languid legato of a violin concerto echoed around the frosted glass walls of the laboratory, originating from the old-fashioned docking system dwarfed amongst the rest of the machinery where an incredibly scuffed once-blue iPod sat persevering through a now familiar playlist despite the early hour of the morning. The majority of the laboratory was taken over by a large ergonomically shaped examination table, clearly designed for its extended periods of usage; the thick coaxial cables that had originally remained hidden beneath the chassis of the machinery connecting monitors to transmitters were now snaked across the slate tiled flooring, whilst various components, processors and circuitries lay scattered like forgotten Christmas gifts. Yet despite this, Connor had somehow managed to not only find enough space to sit comfortably but to fan out blueprints, data sheets and printouts around him on the floor.
Fingers tapping idly against his kneecap on the beat as the next movement of music began with an up-tempo staccato display of the unknown musician's dexterity, Connor took a moment to blindly reach for his flask of coffee and swallow a large mouthful before returning to his work. His eyes, narrowed and sharp, scanning rows upon rows of painstakingly typed coding, trying to find something—anything—that could be adjusted without ruining the overall functionality of the systems. He was close to finding it, he knew he was, and he was determined to find it tonight, even as his eyes started to burn from the strain.
Ever since he'd graduated with honours from University, proudly holding a double major in Computer Engineering and Computer Science, Connor had felt like he was starting to climb the walls in boredom from a lack of mental stimulation when he moved from job to job over the years as each one failed to mentally satisfy him. His Mother, sick of coming home to find various appliances, tablets and computer devices in pieces because he'd torn them apart simply to put them back together again, managed to secure him a job at her company researching a way to enhance and perfect their technology. She had originally suggested it simply to placate his need for intellectual activities with the hopes he would get his fill during the day and become less of a nuisance at home; she probably hadn't quite meant for him to be holed up at 3am running on caffeine, on the verge of pulling his hair out because he just couldn't see where the issue was.
Connor had always held a fascination for the work of the company his Mother worked for, his extensive intelligence and need for stimuli had led to Connor branching out into various fields throughout his educational years; teaching himself languages and conducting little scientific experiments, learning to play a variety of instruments and delving deep into history. And it had been the last one which had led Connor to an article debating the potential of Abstergo Industries attempts to extract ancestral memories from a subject's DNA and utilising them to get personal insights of history, the likes of which have never been achieved before. The name of the company had leapt out at him, and it had been with a strangely emotional lump in his throat, that Connor had raced to his Mother's study and rather unceremoniously stuffed the holopad displaying the article under her nose and asked if it was the company she worked for.
She'd quickly confirmed his queries and had even offered to let him take a look at the coding and blueprints for the machinery they'd been using for years to see what he thought of them, without him needing to ask. Of course, at age 17 Connor hadn't quite realised it had been a test, even as his Mother placed everything across the table in front of him like an intellectual feast and perched almost regally opposite him. Not even as she'd so readily given up confidential answers to his curious questions, her eyes glinting when Connor had grabbed his holopad and started to make annotations on what he would potentially change to have the programs working more efficiently—and that had been before he'd even started University.
The idea of the "Animus", as his Mother later informed him of its project name, was absolutely fascinating to him. Memories extracted from a person's DNA, through their genetics passed down from generation to generation, using that to search back hundreds or potentially thousands of years to find out where they really came from, to experience first-hand what life was like in those ancestral times and to aid in the development of a greater historical understanding of the world. The potential was endless, all those minute details that were lost in history: colloquialisms and stereotypes, personal things that were not deemed important enough to scholars, philosophers or artists of the time and consequentially lost forever, could be re-discovered.
So, when the opportunity to join the company had been presented to him, with the stipulation that his role would solely focus around the Animus project, Connor had almost ripped his Mother's hand off in his eagerness to agree. All Connor wanted was to help history expand the way technology had, it was 2038 and yet there was still so much that was impossible to work out in history. So many mysteries still remained unsolved: where was Cleopatra buried? Who was Jack the Ripper? Who actually killed JFK? Did Atlantis ever exist? And Connor was determined to solve them all. And now, as his ID badge proudly stated 'Connor Stern: Technological Engineer and Lineage Acquisition Programmer', he could potentially do that. However, he hadn't been granted access to the previous subjects involved in the project, so whilst he was trying to find what could be altered to ease the acquisition and exploration of the DNA memories, he didn't truly have any data on what needed altering and that was where his frustration lay.
As the staggered pattern of detaché style notes suddenly cut off mid-bar, Connor's head snapped up in aggravation, a curse forming across his lips as the instantaneous ringing silence cut off his train of thought just as swiftly, only for it to promptly drop into oblivion at the form stood framed inside the now open doorway. His Mother, stood draped in the long flowing multi-layered satin of her tunics, in shades that complimented the cool almost silver undertones to her rich brown skin; the deep fires in the smoky quartz jewels of her eyes and the meticulously braided charcoal of her hair only adding to the constant regal elegance of her figure as she peered down at him in disapproval.
"Connor, what are you doing?" She questioned, the tone of her voice almost cutting through him like a knife despite the lack of force or volume behind it. He was almost thirty-one years old and yet that lilt to her voice still made him feel like a pre-pubescent being scolded for not doing his homework on time. "It is nearly four in the morning, and you're broadcasting this cheap imitation of an Antonio Vivaldi masterpiece without any kind of consideration for the rest of the staff still working."
"Excuse me, Professor Stern. But I made sure to adjust the insulation of the room accordingly before I allowed my music to start playing. The docking system is running at sixty percent of what it normally does during official working hours and the nearest co-worker is two corridors away and often uses sound cancelling headphones to help himself concentrate on his work." Connor explained as he scrambled to his feet, slightly less smoothly than anticipated as his legs protested from being curled under him for so long, knowing better than to refer to the woman as 'Mother' when she was visiting him at work. Even if he was off the clock.
His Mother didn't speak for a moment, her shoulders rolling back slightly as she drew herself up defensively at the fact he'd had the gall to answer her back without so much as an apology, before Connor watched as her eyes flitted around the frosted walls of the laboratory and round onto the small electronic panel screen beside her at the door informing everyone who looked at it, that the room was now fully sound-proof insulated. A sharp exhale from the strong line of her nose is the only indication she's accepted his explanation before she was turning her focus solely back onto him once again.
"That still does not tell me what you are doing here at four in the morning when you supposedly finished at 9pm yesterday and aren't due back in until 9am today." She repeated, the bite to her words lessening as she allowed her arms to unfold and to gracefully manoeuvre to rest on Connor's shoulders in a rare sign of concern. "You have been warned before about the dangers of overworking yourself, and if your health takes another setback I will have to discontinue your involvement with this project."
"What?! No Amanda—You can't do that! Not when I'm so close to perfecting the program!" Connor's heart clenched tightly in his throat as he moved to quickly clasp her hands beneath his, taking them from his shoulders to hold them close to his chest as he intertwined their fingers, stepping closer to his Mother, his own Umber brown eyes shining as he pleaded silently with her, not missing the way her gaze lowered to the contrasting hue of his pale ivory fingers curled around her own.
That was another reason Connor hadn't succeeded in perfecting the software yet; his health. Ever since he'd been a young child he had suffered with his lungs and immune system, having to be home schooled with private tutors for vast amounts of his childhood because he had simply been too ill to risk leaving the house for up to ten hours a day for school. But with the familiarity of his problems, came an almost resigned apathy from his Mother, where she became so accustomed to him rapidly becoming ill that it stopped worrying her and she simply stepped away for a few moments to notify the school and organise his tutors once again, before she was sweeping off to work in a swirl of satin without so much as a backwards glance to his bed-ridden frame.
In fact, the only time he could recall seeing her worried about him had been when the new Sports teacher at School had refused to accept he was too ill to participate, called him a liar trying to get out of class, and promptly forced him to join in with the long run around the School campus. It hadn't taken long for him to realise Connor was telling the truth once the young boy had promptly collapsed to the floor wheezing, his chest rattling as his lips turned blue from lack of oxygen, and it hadn't been long before he'd been fired once Amanda came blazing into the nurses room where an Ambulance crew were working on trying to stabilise Connor and verbally ripped the poor man to shreds for his idiocy and demanded he be removed from the School. Yet, once again, when Connor was back home and feeling much better in himself, she simply left him to it and placed the phone within arms reach in case he needed to contact the emergency services should he have a relapse. So, it was strange to see her so concerned in that moment when he was feeling rather well in himself for a change.
Amanda had never been particularly driven by maternal instinct. For the majority of his childhood, Connor could barely recall referring to her by the moniker of Mother, choosing to instead simply called her by her given name and not seeing anything wrong with such an act even as the rest of the students—and some of the teachers and parents—gasped in horror at the idea of a child doing so. She wasn't his Mother, so he had not seen the need to call her so, and Amanda had not seemed to wish to be referred to by such a title either, even after she made it official and adopted him into her family name.
Connor had come to her before he'd had time to properly settle into his first year of Kindergarten, bruised and shaken, wanting his Mother even though his young intelligent mind had already started to comprehend why she wasn't here and why he was now with this strange woman. As he'd gotten older, he'd slowly been drip-fed information about his former life; his parents and himself had been driving towards the Canadian border to visit friends for the Christmas holidays when the car behind them had skidded on black ice and slammed into the back of their car, causing his Father to lose control and slip across the frozen road, only to break through the barrier separating road from hillside, the car had tumbled towards the frozen river, smashed through the ice despite how solid it should have been at that time of the year and rapidly started to sink.
Connor didn't have any recollection of the accident, nothing remained except a lingering dislike of ice cold water, but Amanda had eventually confided in him that the car had been submerged for an incredibly long time, his Father had died on impact crushed beneath the crumpled front of the car where it had concertinaed back in on itself, whilst his Mother and he had been trapped, battered and broken as the water steadily filled the vehicle. The coastguard had been quick to respond, but the time it took for them to get into the necessary hypothermia prevention gear had allowed the car to completely fill with water that at its warmest temperature was just below freezing. Both Connor and his Mother had fallen unconscious by the time the divers reached them, and being a child, his retrieval had been prioritised, which had unfortunately left his Mother to suffer from irreparable damage that had ultimately claimed her life a few days later in Hospital.
Connor had remained unconscious for nearly two weeks, battling pneumonia and sepsis, body damaged from severe hypothermia and broken bones; but his young body was resilient and untainted by toxic substances that adults liked to fill their bodies with, and before long had started to show signs of improvement. But the whole experience had left him without a fully functioning immune system, weak bodied, asthmatic and prone to viruses and infections potentially for the rest of his life. The only reason he'd been given into Amanda's care was that he had no extended family, and the only other family friends were up in Canada and couldn't afford another child to care for. She'd clearly not wanted a child, even Connor at the tender age of five had been able to see that, but she'd still taken him in and kept him well fed, warm and safe and let him grow in a secure environment with the proper care in place for whenever he was at his lowest health wise. She might not have ever been overly affectionate towards him, and had only really started to take a proper interest in him when it became apparent that his IQ and general intelligence were far above average for his age, but she had gone out of her way to commission the pharmaceutical branch of Abstergo industries to create medication for him to help with his health issues. And that's what mattered to Connor in the end.
"You keep saying you are close to perfecting it Connor, and yet I am not seeing any results." Amanda's voice turned sharp once again as she detangled her fingers from his own, her eyes narrowing in on the organised chaos of information scattered around them. "I'm starting to think this is too much for you to handle."
"No! It's not that. Amanda I—Professor Stern, I've requested on numerous occasions to be allowed to observe the Animus in use to see how the program properly worked, but yet you have refused my requests. How am I supposed to adjust it if I cannot see how it needs adjusting?" Connor sighed as he ran his fingers back through his hair, this argument had been going on ever since he joined the company, yet his Mother had remained stubborn in her refusal to let him observe a session. "If I'm not allowed to observe the Animus in work, can I at least test it out myself?"
"Absolutely not!" The venomous reaction to his question had Connor taking a slight step backwards in surprise, having not expected such a response from the usually stoic woman. "You are not healthy enough to use the program, it puts a lot of strain on a subject's physicality and you would not be able to cope. I will not have a repeat of your childhood Connor!"
"I—My apologies Amanda. I just know that I will be able to adjust the systems and coding and software if I could see how they actually interact and work with each other when a subject is exploring their lineage." He spoke softly as he shifted to play with the line of his work lanyard tucked beneath the material of his sweater to prevent it from swinging in his face, needing something to occupy his fingers whilst he tried to ignore the thick disappointment settling in his stomach at the idea that he'll never get to experience the Animus for himself. "Please. I promise I will only need one observation and I'll be able to use the printouts with much more efficiency and be able to upgrade the software."
Without another word, Amanda turned and plucked a discarded holopad from the desk beside her, fingers delicately dancing across the screen and letting Connor suffer in silence for a few moments. His curiosity starting to creep out as he watched and waited to see what was going on, hating how his fidgeting only got worse the longer she left his plea hanging in the air between them but not daring to try and break the silence once again without permission.
However, as she handed the holopad to him, the page changing from the security access check screen to a new subject file, his eyes widened in surprise, not quite daring to hope that she was doing what he thought she was doing.
"You have permission to observe the first session with this new subject. He will be coming in tomorrow and is scheduled to be submerged in the Animus at nineteen hundred hours. I am granting you a great lenience here Connor, do not disappoint me because there will not be a second chance for this." Amanda stated smoothly, before turning on her heel and stepping out of the laboratory, pausing before the door slid shut behind her to glare over her shoulder at him, a glare almost as strong as her parting words. "Now get home and go to sleep."
"I-I will! I promise!" Connor called out to the room, his words ineffectual due to the sound-proofing preventing the sound from reaching his Mother on the other side of the door, but needing to voice his gratefulness regardless. Glancing down at the holopad, Connor couldn't help the giddy giggle escaping him as he let his shaking fingers swipe along the screen to read over the information profile of who had been titled 'Subject 200', pausing to focus on the headshot at the top of the screen once he'd finished reading.
The male in question was six years older than him, skin a warm tawny golden-brown, hair shaved close to his scalp, combined with a strong jaw lightly dusted with stubble to give him an almost intimidating air, Connor having to take a second glance when he registered that the subject's left eye was green and the right eye blue. A rarity that somehow seemed to fit into the man's face and gave him an air of uniqueness and mystery and had Connor curious to see if heterochromia was a trait that was prevalent amongst his ancestors as well.
Gathering his stuff together, Connor almost reverently tucked the holopad into his bag before doing what he promised Amanda and finally heading back home, being careful not to jostle things too much in case he lost the profile access, whilst simultaneously trying to move as fast as he could possibly manage without looking suspicious, especially with how sensitive the information he'd been given was. It wasn't until he'd finished sliding into the front seat of his car and setting it to auto-drive home before he risked retrieving the tablet once again, unlocking it and sighing in relief as the profile once again flashed onto the screen; setting it aside to retrieve his personal holopad which he always kept on him to make notes on and opening it to a new document with the intention of creating himself a checklist of potential things to watch out for whilst observing. Taking his time to carefully type out the man's name as a heading, pressing each letter slowly as if expecting everything to be revealed as him waking from a dream with each syllable he completed. Letting out an irrational puff of air that he'd been holding to try and calm his nerves, Connor smiled as he stared down at the man's name now typed out to completion at the head of his list, knowing tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
Markus Manfred.