The fascinating quality of music inspired great passion in his exploratory science. Even if it meant he could barely afford a place to live and barely even sleep. The extreme work ethic was common within the city in this year of 1963. But it wasn’t always of one’s own autonomy. Sometimes a passion could be bent, broken, and replaced by something as soulless as a machine.

The scientist found himself in a never-ending cycle of dealing with cunning higher-ups, with tongues that spoke in persuasion to hide ominous intent. He knew he had to watch out for that. But Dallon wouldn’t quit until he got what he wanted. In the pursuit of his passion, for better or for worse, Dallon was a voluntary victim to Telex Foundation International.

Under the admittance of the Temporal Arts Program with fellow scientist, Ryan Seaman, the two researched under the pretence that Telex was interested in a future where music was produced by machines. Until then, the experimental band—called I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME—performed in accordance to conceive of destined advancement.

What Dallon wasn’t privy to was that he had as much control of a man in the gallows. The scientist had already gained some insight into unethical conduct within the facility. But he didn’t address concerns because nothing would hinder him from achieving his goals. He would shut his mouth, mind his bosses, stay in his place, and try to maintain his faith as he was struck by the inhumanity of those around him. The only reason he even noticed something odd was because he abstained from the drink other members often enjoyed that slowly bled them of their character. Joining Thought Reform and Social Reconditioning was promised to be a good time, but the act of joining meant that you would never be able to leave.

Dallon’s black glasses framed his striking blue eyes. His brown hair was neatly combed and he had a personnel ID clipped to his grey suit. He had his sanity and his awareness. But sometimes playing with fire would burn you.