The first chapter of the book had just been about spacefaring and some descriptions of Imperial vessels and how various parts of the ships worked. Oddly enough the text had been rather lighthearted and easy to read and not the dreary slog James had expected from the opening title. The text was informative and enjoyable enough that James took the book to work the next day and continued to read it in his office.

The second chapter that followed delved into the nature of the void and how the ships actually travelled faster than light. It was then the nature of the text began to get strange. Instead of technical bits of how ships worked it began to talk about something called the Warp where strange creatures lived and how every living being with a soul was somehow connected to the place. Especially how psykers were connected to the Warp and got their powers from it.

James got a sneaking suspicion that what he was reading might be classified as heresy but the section about psykers was too interesting for him to stop reading. It felt that it explained so much of who he was and what he'd had to deal with all his life. Answering questions he'd had since he was a child. Questions that his parents had told him he should never ask anyone. Because it was too dangerous.

"James! James Burg!" he heard Mr Price shout from the corridor outside.

James looked to his watch and saw that he had completely lost track of time while reading the book. Cursing under his breath he put down the book and quickly headed outside to meet Mr Price. The man did not look happy at all.

"One of the machines you're in charge of broke down. Get your ass down there and fix it!" Mr Price barked, his face red and almost looked like he would explode from anger.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," James replied with a nod and downward averted gaze before rushing past Mr Price towards the production floor.

There all the workers were standings at their posts but none of them were working as everything had effectively come to a halt. One of the larger machines was making horrible noises; that of metal parts scraping and hitting each other. James rushed to it and shut it down before trying to figure out what was wrong. Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen on the outside but as he opened the maintenance hatch and lit his flashlight he saw that one of the cogs along with it's bolt had been unscrewed. The runaway cog and bolt was now clogging up the rest of the machine.

James first tried to reach for the missing parts with his hands, which proved tricky as they were stuck in a tight spot. The machine then made a roaring noise as it got turned back on. James barely managed to retreat his hand before he risked losing his fingers to the moving parts. As he did however something cracked inside the machine and next thing he felt a sting on his left fingers and his left cheek. But he didn't bother to react to it as he instead focused on getting out the service hatch.

"Shut it down!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

No response came and no one moved a muscle to help. Then as James went to shut down the machine again he saw that his left littlefinger was gone and his ringfinger had a deep cut in it. Blood was also dripping from his beard and he noticed he had another deep cut on his left cheek. With quick steps he pushed the emergency shutdown button, leaving his blood all over and dripping from it in the process.

At that moment Mr Price came into the hall. His face went pale as he saw James. "What in the Emperor's golden balls happened?"

"I think the machine was sabotaged. And someone turned it on when I was inside trying to fix it," James replied as he held his left hand to his shirt and tried to stem the bleeding. "And I need to find a first aid kit."

"There should be one in the offices." Mr Price said with an oddly calm and at the same time horrified tone.

Blood dripped onto the floor in his wake as James hurried to find the first aid kit. He eventually found it in an offshoot corridor leading to some storage room for the cleaners. But the damn thing was almost empty. Only a small piece of old bandage and some other stuff James didn't know what it was lay in the box. The bandage lasted only a few wraps around his littlefinger before everything had been used up. It was not enough to properly stem the bleeding.

With not any other real options he ran out from the factory (an offense that would normally cause the termination of one's job but James figured he'd get away with it given the circumstances) and down the streets in search of a clinic. He knew there was one in the area and soon enough he found one.

As the nurse tended to his wounds James drifted deeper into thought: Why did no one try to stop the saboteur from activating the machine? Why did no one do anything? Were they in on it? What would the simple factory workers gain from getting rid off me?

Questions upon questions with no real satisfying answers in sight. It only served to irritate him more. A feeling not soothed by the stinging oil the nurse applied to his wounds.

James looked upon his left hand and especially his missing littlefinger. The loss had been somewhat expected for his work environment, but being there now it still felt slightly unreal. At least it was only the finger he used the least and not the whole hand.

After his hand had been patched up as well as it could be James decided to go home and call in sick. On the way he realized he had forgotten that blue book at the office but decided to leave it there for the next day or so till he could return. But as he came into his home and went to make the call he saw the book was laying there on the counter besides the phone. He wondered if someone at the office had somehow found the book and decided to return it to him. Though that wouldn't explain how it got there since only he had the keys to get into the apartment.

James reached for the phone, and found himself instead picking up the book. It was still the same book from what he could tell. He flipped through the pages till he was back where he had left off and continued reading.

The chapter about psykers went on about how there was some kind of god for them in the Warp. An entity that guided and helped them out. This entity had no real depiction apart from the same sigil that was imprinted on the face of the book. A sigil that seemed to change just a little bit every time James blinked. The colors changed from shimmering turquoise to dark purple to deep blue, and the infilling went from shiny scales to subdued flames to slick feathers. It became almost mesmerizing to watch and James found himself blinking more and more to see what the picture would change into next. But eventually it became too much and he averted his eyes for a brief second only to return to see the sigil depicted by a boring empty outline. The image didn't change anymore and he wondered if he had imagined it all.

He then continued reading about this entity. Its name was Tzeentch. A name he found himself whispering over and over in an attempt to figure how it was pronounced. The book continued on how seek this guidance from this supposed god. All one was required to do was to draw Tzeentch's symbol on a body part and and channel the power of the Warp through oneself. This guidance could then help one with many different things; from foreseeing the future to expanding one's powers to granting beneficial alterations to the body.

James looked upon his missing finger and wondered if these alterations included the ability to regrow lost limbs. A tempting proposition but James felt that there was a risk to it all that the book failed to disclose. And he wasn't in any real need of guidance. He had been able to control his powers for quite some time now and felt comfortable with how they were. If anything he wished the reduce his powers so he wouldn't ever be able to experience the accidents from his childhood.

Pictures of his birthday puppy laying there in the grass flashed through his mind. The head, a mess of bone and brain while blood poured onto the soil. Blood on his chest and hands. The feelings of disbelief, horror and despair came flooding back and he found himself wanting to cry. With a loud thud he closed the book and tossed it on the floor. That was enough reading for a day. He needed a walk around the block and maybe to the park for some fresh (as fresh as it could be in the city) air to clear his mind.

The next day James woke up and realized he had yet to call in sick. This time the book lay where he had left it on the floor. James stared at it as he waited for the other end to pick up.

"Mr Walter Price's office at Silver Tech. How may I help you?" he heard Vanessa's voice say almost as if she was a robot.

"Hi, Vanessa, this is James Burg. I forgot to call in yesterday but I'm gonna have to take sick leave. Till the wound is better."

"Oh." It was clear from her voice that something was wrong. "I hate having to tell you this but… you've been fired."

"What? Fired?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Something about you ruining an important machine."

"I did not! Someone else sabotaged it!" James almost shouted into the phone in anger. It then took him a second to regain his composure. "Sorry. Can I speak with Mr Price about this?"

"I'm afraid he's in a meeting with the higher ups. The machine breaking down has caused quite the ruckus. Production has halted completely."

"If they let me come back I'm sure I can fix it."

"I'll let Mr Price know when I see him. I'll call back if anything changes."

"Thank you."

No call came for the entire day. On the afternoon the next day James's patience had run out and he picked up the phone to call again.

"Mr Walter Price's office at Silver Tech. How may I help you?" answered the robotic tone of Vanessa once again.

"Hi. Heard anything from Mr Price?"

"James…" Her voice was markedly worried. "Things are bad. With production shut down the workers have nothing to do and the higher ups have decided that as long as they won't work they won't get paid. People are getting up in arms. Some are even blaming you."

"Great. So they blame me for something they let happen?"

"I don't know. I'm only telling you what I've heard. Mr Price can't help you as he's too busy trying to keep his own job."

"Well, thanks for telling-" The other end suddenly hung up. "...me."

James sat down by the small dinner table and looked out the window. The factories weren't visible from his apartment. His window wasn't even facing in that direction. But at that moment he really wished he could see what was going on over there.

The next few days James found himself scouring the newspapers for potential jobs. Only a few suites his skillset. None of them paid well. The hope of maybe getting his old job back evaporated little by little each day. The news reported about the unrest brewing around the factories. Threats of strikes (an illegal action in the city) were made and were met by counter threats of brutal crackdowns of law enforcements. James was almost a little glad he had been sacked.

Days turned into weeks. During which James only managed to score and then botch one job interview. All while the situation at the factories were getting worse. The news reported of full scale riots with violence, destruction and lootings. Living just beyond the edge of the conflict zone James could only hope the riot didn't expand.

As James scoured another newspaper for jobs he heard shots fired in the distance. Rubber bullets or live ammo, he couldn't quite tell the difference. The news gave conflicting reports on who was escalating and how. Not that it really mattered to James as he had a hard time sympathizing with either side.

James looked to the blue book tucked away among the others on the bookshelf. With a thought that drew from the Warp he pulled the book towards him and began to flip through the pages to where he had left off. It maybe wouldn't hurt to seek a little guidance. It wasn't like the Emperor had answered his prayers the last couple of weeks. With another pull from his mind he grabbed a pen and sketched the symbol of Tzeentch on the palm of his left hand. Not the best piece of artwork he had created as the circle wasn't perfect and the lines weren't quite as wavy as they were depicted by the book. It almost made him wish he had fostered the talent for drawing he had had as a child instead of letting it decay.

The next step required the power of the Warp. James tried his best to focus on the hand and pull it back and forth slightly. To his body it felt as if some invisible force was pulling at the hand, a rather uncomfortable thing as he had practically never used his power on himself. Despite using his powers on the hand for at least a few minutes nothing seemed to happen. Eventually James simply gave up. Either he was doing something wrong or the book was one big prank.

James put away the book and returned to looking through the newspaper. The next day he woke up to find that the mark on his hand was gone. Rather odd as he had no memory of washing away the ink. Then as he looked down he noticed what looked like a tattoo of a dark blue raven with its wing stretched out etched into his skin over his heart. It wasn't an ugly tattoo, but it wasn't exactly something he'd choose to get. And if this was the guidance he would receive he was rather disappointed.

The day went on and James tried at first to feel up the tattoo and see if it could do anything. But it seemed to be nothing more than a simple tattoo. So I've used what is probably forbidden magic only to get a small tattoo, he thought to himself with a strong sense of sarcasm.

Then around noon a letter came in through the front door mailslot. It carried the official seal of the Duke Potestas; a diamond flanked by two roses. Though it didn't carry the seal of the military branch so it didn't appear to be a drafting letter. Which was at least some relief. Still half afraid of what the letter could contain James hesitated before opening. Inside was a short letter, more filled out with seals of formalia than the text explaining the reason of the letter, and it appeared to be a rather innocuous query about available engineers that had graduated from the Royal Engineering Academy, offering them a high paying job at the Dyke's own personal palace. If they were sending it out to everyone that had graduated from there and offering these work benefits there would surely be thousands of applicants. James hadn't even been near the top of his class and figured there was little point in testing his luck with this. But in the back of his mind he had a nagging thought that kept telling him that he should go for it. A thought he wasn't entirely sure was his own.