Ah...Sierpinski S-23. It sucks ass, but it's better than being executed! Being located on Leng (or to people that aren't simps for the Nation, Triton), it's almost always snowing, raining or leaving a bitter, dry cold despite how sufficiently kilmaformed (or terraformed) the gas giant-orbiting moon was. But hey, at least you can breathe topside!

Per the pecking order of the facility, there is a Storch unit nicknamed Theta that you're required to report into everyday once tasks are done. Why? Well, she's one of the rationing officers of the facility; even Replikas have to eat, and you get your share of food based on how productive you were during the day. Maybe that's why so many Gestalts (or biological humans) have worked themselves to literal death by overexhaustion.

This is an end of the day like any other. Heading into her office, the door slides open. You've always remembered her as a very irritable, commanding and eager-to-start-beating-people kind of woman...but apparently she also has a bit of a problem putting down the bottle. Looking at her, she's leaning against the wall like a vagrant, a bottle of strong Vinetan (or Earthly) schnapps in her hand.

She looks at you. She's breathing rather audibly, and her eyes are glossy. She's...drunk.