Chapter 1: R.A.V.A
No. 186 woke with a start, skin sticky with a sheen of sweat, chest heaving as if she surfaced from something deep.
The capsule door unlocked as her eyes opened, the hiss of hydraulics enticing her to sit up. She did, and her head spun, the lights too bright, the cell too cool. Within moments, her balance returned, dulling the fizzy feeling behind her eyes.
The cell she was in was austere: it contained her sleeping capsule, four opaque walls, and a table and chairs with a tray and a basin of water with a white towel. Slowly, she made her way from the capsule, landing on unsteady feet. She wondered how long it had been since she'd walked.
The cool water felt good on her face as she wiped it off. She scrubbed hard with the towel until she felt refreshed. Despite the unnerving quiet, No. 186 felt calm, although she wasn't sure what purpose she truly had in being here.
"Good morning."
No. 186 paused, head jerking back and forth, eyes wide. "Sit, sit, sit." The light flashed bright, urging No. 186 into the chair. She flopped down, shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness. "Eat. You've got sea prunes." A favorite, Korra thought. She wondered why she had.
Before her on the tray sat a bowl of sea prunes, still steaming. She sniffed, and the earthen scent of the sea fruit beckoned to her. She didn't waste time with the utensils: instead, she simply tipped the bowl past her lips, swallowing and chewing in big, messy gulps. A bit of broth leaked from her lips, staining her white tank top puce. She smacked her lips and set the empty bowl back down, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "It seems you haven't changed at all, No. 186."
Looking around, she took in the environment. She wasn't sure how she got there: she couldn't remember the last place she had been. More so, No. 186 wanted so badly to talk, but her throat felt so dry, despite the broth. "You should still have the ability to talk. Do you want to try?"
She nodded in response to the voice. "Good. Now, do you know your name?"
Inside her mind, No. 186 knew the words to form her name. Surely, she wasn't a series of digits: there had to be more. Yet her name sat heavy upon her tongue, two syllables as thick as cotton between her pursed lips, choked between an unused mouth. "Say it," the voice urged her. "Let it out. You can do it."
No. 186 nodded, and opened her mouth. The syllables fell out, raspy and hoarse. "Kor...ra." She paused, blue eyes blinking slowly. "Korra. Korra!" She sounded infantile, but the simple word filled her with unimaginable glee. The feeling faded however as her throat began to ache. She pressed her palm against it, trying to sooth the ache.
"That will happen for a while. It's the consequences of your vocal inactivity. Your vocal chords have begun to atrophy, leaving your voice a bit weaker. With exercise, we can help halt the process, to a degree."
Korra nodded and got up, scooping a handful of water from the basin. She sipped it from her hands, the cool liquid quenching and sweet as it slid down her throat. It dulled the ache a little, and so she took more, until the front of her shirt was damp. "Better?" the machine asked.
"Better." Korra meant it: her throat felt far more relaxed.
"Good, good. Now," the voice soften, calm like a mother's, "do you know who I am?" Korra shook her head no.
"I don't even know where you are," she offered, looking around the dim room. She shifted, and a loud whirling sound echoed about the area. Korra couldn't fathom there'd be a good hiding place: the ceiling was a smooth expanse of milky glass.
There were a few more mechanic sounds, and suddenly, the glass separated into two panels. A white form appeared before her, shaped like an arrow. Tendrils of constantly shifting wires sparked, undulating as they coiled about the air in hypnotic loops. In the middle of the smooth expanse of white plastic sat a single, glowing eye, ice blue and piercing as it examined Korra. "I," the voice began, "am R.A.V.A."
"R.A.V.A …?" Korra felt the weight of the name. Like her own, it felt familiar, close. In the back of Korra's mind, she felt she should know the name, yet its meaning escaped her.
"Yes," R.A.V.A responded. "Reconnaissance and Action Verification Aperture, or R.A.V.A. for short." R.A.V.A blinked the single blue eye once more, completing her sentence. "Although I am more than a simple Aperture, at least in this form, since my lens is surrounded by a more suitable machine.. Allow me to compromise my form to be more fitting to you."
With a clank, R.A.V.A dropped form the ceiling. Her tendrils caught her and she flipped, mechanism morphing her until she was the size of Korra's hand. "Much better," she intoned. With a charge, she shot into the air, landing on Korra's arm. The tingle of the two remaining tendrils of wire, compressed into a set of humanoid arms, clung to her shoulder. Behind her, two white wings flapped, and sparks popped into the air. "Now, allow me to inform you of your current situation. Proceed forward."
The wall nearest to Korra began to expand and a hole appeared, big enough to allow Korra to exit through it. Tentatively, she stepped through, and the entire room shook before disappearing into the floor. "No going back now," she murmured. The tiles rearranged themselves, making it appear as if they room had never existed.
There was nothing to do now but move forward. Korra turned and stepped towards the only corridor in the area, a darkened hallway that unnerved her.
R.A.V.A cleared her throat, a mechanic sound that rattled around her body. "No. 186, you are a part of Aperture Science's newest test, Project Avatar. Although this project has been active for long time, Aperture Science's time manipulation has allowed for this project to exist in multiple worlds and universes, compressing their efforts into the matter of two hundred Earth years." R.A.V.A 's statement was confusing, and Korra felt her headache grow. She pushed away the feeling, forcing her mind to fill with the noise of her footsteps on the tiled floor rather than the confusing information.
"Project Avatar has three key components: a test subject, a synthetic city, and the addition of "benders", or persons that can utilize scientific concepts in a fictional manner. Gifted with the ability to manipulate matter, you are the newest addition to a line of continuously tested subjects. Here at Future Industries, an Asian division of Aperture, you will be pushed to your limits as they search for the effects of one body housing multiple 'elements' with in it." Korra nodded, head down. She couldn't focus on her footsteps anymore: R.A.V.A's explanation had captivated her. "For the good of all of the members of the research group, you will be placed into a simulation named Republic City. Here, you will be tested in order to ascertain your viability as a test subject and your capacity for elemental manipulation. It is my personal hope that your will be compatible. I'd…" R.A.V.A paused. "Never mind. We've almost arrived at our destination."
They continued forward, Korra's body tense as the hallway began to lighten. The smell of tea and the chatter of voices filled the air, and Korra felt a rush of energy course through her body. They halted at the end of the corridor before a door. "It needs to scan your hand. After all, Republic City is a testing zone made specifically for you." R.A.V.A's tendril tapped her shoulder, and Korra nodded, shaking her hand to get rid of the tingles.
Slowly, she reached out her hand, and teal light scanned her palm. "Subject No. 186, known as 'Korra'." The door hummed and slowly, it opened, revealing hints of a tea house "Welcome to Republic City," an automated intoned. Korra couldn't help the twist of her gut as she stepped out into the light.