I firmly scrub the heels of my hands across my eyebrows, trying to erase a bit of strain I can feel trying to settle behind my gritty eyes. “Continue with the rotation of one team in the walks. That was a good number of bodies available to me. Has anyone needed to take themself out of rotation?”

Teagris consults the clipboard in his hands. “According to Devlin’s notes, four individuals from previous shift reported feeling excessive fatigue and needed to remove themselves to equipping. A fifth individual fell unconscious before they could voluntarily remove themself. Devlin further notes that after the fourth hour of work, he increased the frequency of rotation to hourly in order to ensure adequate rest breaks and recommends hourly rotation going forward instead of bi-hourly.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “You will be in a better position to monitor that than I will. All my concentration will be upon the crafting. Make certain that individual who was rendered unconscious reports to medical for a complete physical and mental evaluation before they return to duty, and make certain that all treatment is covered by IO.”

“Absolutely, sir.” At least Teagris is agreeable. 

I think he would say more, but we are approached at that moment by another technician bearing a plate of food. “For the Darkwalker.” I am a bit surprised by his choice of wording; apparently Jakara has already gotten word around as to my new title. 

Teagris takes the plate with thanks to the technician before handing it down to me carefully. “Here, sir. Looks like some veggie chow mein, fried tofu, saffron rice, refried beans, and vegetarian pizza.”

I blink at the plate, working up a head of steam to be irritated at Teagris for treating me like a child. But then my stomach growls audibly. With a deep scowl, I merely take the plate carefully so as to avoid coming into contact with Teagris’ fingers. “Looks like someone has no idea how to put together a vegetarian selection,” I grumble instead. “Beans and pizza? Paired with tofu?” I accept the plastic fork Teagris offers and promptly use it to shove the beans to the other side of the plate from the chow mein so they do not touch. A string of invectives against the Dark forsaken individual who thought it was a good idea to put the slice of pizza across the top of everything else tumbles forth in Denzani even as I start to choke down the meal I do not even really want right now. But I need to eat. The trembling in my limbs attests to that fact.

Perhaps Teagris realizes I am irritated with him, because he quickly leaves me to my own devices as I almost gag at the combination of chow mein and refried beans on the underside of pizza. Somehow, I clean the plate. The tofu, at least, is almost palatable. I contemplate the empty plate for a moment, then contemplate how much of a problem it would be to dispose of it into the thermal vent. It would be a terrible idea, really. But it would be amusing.

In the end, I simply put the empty plate down somewhere and wander back to stand with the toes of my shoes once more pressed to the thermal vent cover. The lack of work during this break means I get to spend entirely too much time analyzing the fact that an employee fell unconscious. My eyes lose focus as I stare at the steel plating closing off the thermal vent and my mind wanders off to consider what would happen if the technician has ended up husked. 

Husking is something all Denzai are warned of on the first day of training. Though my own training was begun at a considerably younger age than is usual, I was continually assured that it progressed at the same pace as is usual for a spawn. Perhaps as a result of my younger age, I recall vividly being warned on multiple occasions against overdraw to the point of excess. Usually, only oneself is at risk of husking. But because I do not draw solely from myself, the warnings came frequently. Watch myself for signs of fatigue, and watch others for the grey of exhaustion. Make certain to only draw until the first streaks of grey appear. Never draw beyond those first signs. Because there is no return from husking.

I once met a Denzai who had overdrawn themself to a husked state. She was a shell of a creature. Her eyes held no spark of life and her emotional landscape was a dull, neutral, and uniform grey. She would eat only upon command and spoke only when addressed. Her intellect was intact, but she had no desire to use it. All her ambition and drive was gone, and no emotion remained within. I remember being both disturbed and distraught as she spoke, her voice lacking any inflection. Even my present madness holds more life than that husked Denzai. And she endured until old age overcame her, returning peacefully to the embrace of the Dark in her sleep. 

No sorrow, yet no joy either. No anger, mirth, fear, or excitement. One moment to the next, all the same. A constant state of ennui, lacking in all emotion. She never knew the birth of a spawn, for she could not join in a fellowship or find love. And she had no enemies, for there was no room for hate or pity. Her entire life was dependant upon others, for she had no motivation to do anything for herself and could easily have starved or sat in her own bodily filth.

The memory of her wretched existence brings a shiver to my spine. Dark preserve, I can only hope that no one becomes husked as a result of my actions. I shall have to check on that technician once this repair is complete.

I am only really aware that we are ready to resume work when Teagris gently clears his throat beside me. It is enough to make me flinch. My eyes swing to him and narrow in irritation, only to find that he is peering out across the thermal vent cover rather than looking at me directly. “At your leisure, we are ready to proceed,” he states simply. I flick quick glances to either side, noting the waiting technicians, then simply nod and fish out my tuning fork once more. 

“Make certain that none speak while I craft,” I remind him, then strike the fork upon my forearm without waiting for a response. The tone rings clarion, and I open up my voice to begin work on the second side of the scaffold.

Predictably, the fatigue of the second side builds upon what is already in place within me from the first side. I feel it acutely, and sooner in the process. My feet increasingly want to stumble as the process draws on. Sweat runs freely from beneath my scaling. My vocal structures begin to ache as the minutes turn into hours. But I get the second side of the scaffold secured with time.

When finally I am able to fall silent again, Yrlissa is the technician that approaches. “All technicians, eat and report back in 30 minutes!” she bellows before softening her voice to address me directly. “Sir, I stand ready to assist you.”

Breathing is difficult enough at the moment, as I am awash in fatigue. But I try and address her anyway. “How are the teams holding up?” I inquire between gasps. 

“Six technicians removed themself from rotation before shift change, sir,” Yrlissa reports. “All technicians are still present from this shift as of this time. No further technicians have been sent to medical. Rotations are continuing at an hourly cycle, and those in the walks report that it definitely helps them recover.”

I nod. “Allow the teams a full hour before drive shaft installation, as I will launch straight into the fourth side of the scaffold immediately upon completion. I would prefer to have fresh teams for the fourth side, but I think the timing will not align.” A quick glance around shows that most of the room has emptied out, so I lower my voice to continue. “I need to rest as much as possible. Please arrange for someone to bring a meal to me here.” Even now, I cannot afford to have the technicians see my weakness. There is an unbending drive within me to just keep going, to appear unwavering in the face of this challenge. 

Yrlissa returns my nod. “Understood, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

My feet drag as I take myself to sit against the nearest wall. I am only halfway done with the most difficult portion of this build and already I can feel my energy waning. Thoughts drift, floating like a refrain through my head. When Yrlissa returns with a plate, I eat mechanically. She hands me a bottle of water and I empty it without thought. At least the exhaustion is starting to keep the memories at bay. 

During the construction of the third side is when the hallucinations begin.

I know they are not real because there is no sound associated with the visions. Emotional spectres begin to walk beside me, creatures of vaguely humanoid shape but comprised entirely of the visual manifestations I am seeing in the technicians around me. It is as though the excess emotions are becoming ambulatory. 

The first one I notice is when a string of hesitancy pulls itself loose from the technician I am nearest to and begins to float alongside me like a mimic. I do not let the pantomime distract me, but I definitely take note of it. Especially when it is joined by a ribbon of irritation from the next technician and the two intertwine to become a creature of anxiety. 

More tatters of emotion are pulled away to join the construct and it begins to mirror my movements. But poorly, as though it were mocking my efforts. It dances behind me as a second creature begins to form before me. A third joins. Then a fourth. 

By the time I complete the third side of the scaffold, a small army of phantoms stand interspersed with the technicians. They freeze in place as the humans depart for another meal to become a sculpture garden. Each becomes a snapshot of a moment in time, an emotion paired with a silhouette to recreate some significant instant. Yet my mind is too exhausted to interpret what I am seeing and when I try to address them in Denzani, I instead produce a hacking cough that feels as though it begins somewhere around my knees. 

“Sir, please sit and rest.” I turn bleary eyes to the speaker and chitter at them. “I don't speak Denzani, sir. Please repeat that in Not-Song."

"Jakara?" My voice is a raspy croak, strained from overuse already. But through squinted eyes I can just make out her form past the phantoms. "Oh, Dark. How long have I been working?" 

"We're starting the 42nd hour, sir." Her voice holds the blue compassion I see outlining her. "Teams are on another 30 minute meal break. I have a plate for you here and water, because team leads are reporting that you're not hydrating enough."

"No time." My voice crackles and breaks apart, so I drink the entire bottle of water before continuing. "I will have opportunity to remedy that while the drive shaft is installed, as there is nothing for me to sing during that. Are the teams taking their hour? Because I will need to draw deeply for the fourth side of the scaffold.  Get the next shift in here before we seal the room, also. I want to have a switch over on schedule, but we will not be able to open the door to allow them entry. Have the incoming shift remain in the walks out of the way so I do not pull from them before time and arrange for appropriate overtime pay for both shifts. And I will need you specifically to monitor the technicians closely for fatigue; we are beginning to recycle teams and technicians have been dropping already from what I drew the first time around."

I believe Jakara nods at me; it is difficult to tell past the gritty dryness of my vision. As though she can discern my difficulty, she also replies audibly. "I'll be certain to monitor, sir. But that includes you as well. And right now, it is my duty to remind you to eat. I'll go fetch you more water while you do so, sir."

I am entirely too exhausted to be angry with her. Especially as she has a valid point in there somewhere and she is taking it upon herself to look out for all personnel. So I take the plate from her. 

And then remember nothing of eating it. The hallucinations consume my meal for all I know. But Jakara does find me conversing with them when she returns to hand me more water, because I apologize to the one I am addressing when I excuse myself to speak with her. She does not comment upon it, instead just handing me the bottle. But I see a green tinted wash of blue concern through her. At least, I think I do. “Standard procedure for drive shaft installation?” she asks instead. 

“Yes.” That single word is slow and slightly slurred. It does not really improve as I continue.“I will actively monitor and assist the support chain team. Safety harness. I will need one. To seat the drive into the lower rotor support. Because I will need to be entirely too close to the thermal vent. All technicians will need respirators. I want you to coordinate the lift teams, Jakara."

“Of course, sir.” Though she says nothing about it, I can see the concern layered in heavy turquoise spirals all through her. “I’ll have your safety harness brought out along with the respirators for the technicians.” 

I pinch the bridge of my nose carefully between the tips of two scales. “Dark, I am tired. These constructs of my mind will not leave me be. But they are still better than the memories. Have my grandsire alerted that I will require assistance in returning home when we are finished here. My mental state is only going to continue to degrade, and I am not certain I will be able to find my way home without becoming lost. I wonder if I can alter the song of Dark to invoke unity? I will almost certainly need its power, as the teams are fairly well tapped already. Well, nothing for it but to try.” 

I draw my legs up to stand, but realize that my muscles are not obeying. Fatigue instead has them quivering uselessly. My lips part in a snarl as I struggle to get up off the floor. A scraping noise draws my attention to the fact that I am gouging a grip into the wall with the scaled ends of my fingers. Not very deep, as I have not the strength of a full blooded Denzai even when not exhausted. But enough to feel the tug before my fingers skitter loose.

Jakara, wisely, does not offer aid. I never have to worry about such things with her. And I praise her for it to the nearest two phantoms without thinking as I push against the floor to finally stand waveringly upright.