LATER IN THE DAY, while Zan still slept, a line had formed after the expected exodus.

  While charging and overlooking the exodus through the use of the command center's camera system -- which connected, even, to the defensive turrets which surrounded the camp -- she kept tabulations on who left and what sort of impact such would have when it came to camp supplies, tribute rationing, and the sort. Perhaps fifteen percent of the camp left. A high sum, surely, but one which would not threaten the livelihood of the camp.

  With tabulations completed and the lined formed, now all which remained was the engagement. Reciting her speech variables a hundred times over, she unlatched herself once more from the charging cables and removed herself from the table. She moved to the door and sent a signal to the command center's core to alert the Screen Master and open the front gate. It slowly lowered. It came to a halt with a rumble. Once the dust cleared, she gingerly sped forward and approached the first of those who waited to take the next step. Which was most of the camp, she was happy to see.

  "Greetings! I am glad to see so many of you here, ready and willing to take the next step which will likely define the rest of your lives. I will not bore you with details unconcerned to your fate, however. Now is the time for action! If you take the plunge and commit to the Order, there will be many tests which will determine the merit of your soul. Your first such test is now and although it is the simplest test you will face, it is also the hardest. I challenge each and every one of you to do this and simply this: enter the command center."

  Sigma-Prime knew people would not understand the concept of the challenge.

  Even so, the challenge spoke for itself:

  Of those assembled, they would either rise to the challenge and prove themselves worthy of opening the door or they would fail to open the door. Of those who could open the door, their futures were set. For those who couldn't open the door, their futures lie with people and places not connected to the Order.

  The first person approached. A hardy young man a little older than Zan. Likely a peer mentor of Zan's before the invasion.

  The young man had a confused look on his face, no different than the rest. He clearly thought more than once on the concept of why opening a door would be an ordeal. He moved to the door, wiping his confusion away, and easily passed through the gate. His confusion about this ordeal would remain. That is, until she addressed all those who passed on the nature of this test -- to separate the good of heart from those still disheartened.

  "Welcome young man. How would you like to enlist?" Sigma-Prime asked.

  "Frontline soldier, ma'am!"

  Hearing the youth call her -- an autonomous inorganic Life Form -- a 'ma'am' sent a comedic jolt through her circuits. The people of this place truly were a humble breed. Not that she hadn't seen such modesty before. Live as long as her and even the least likely of events would become mundane.

  "I have recorded your enlistment as 'Soldier,'" she told the youth. "Would you like to stay close to home or be sent away on foreign missions? Note: your ability to pick is only a preference and does not necessarily mean you will NOT be ordered to leave on foreign missions."

  By now, the youth grew red with some embarrassment. She did not know why, culture, perhaps, but young males in particular always displayed bashfulness when asking to stay close to home. Did they think an anti-adventurous attitude weak? She wondered what the youth would give as an answer.

  "I would like to stay close to my family, please..." he said, confirming what she thought -- domestic preference. Sigma-Prime wondered if he was signing up against his will. Meaning, he did not want to actually be a soldier. It is possible, she knew. But knowing such things and pontificating upon such things were two different realities. She could not over-analyze every enlisted. It was a dead-end path and a morally blank one at that.

  "I have noted your preference," she replied to the youth. "Please take the staircase to your right. Soon, other enlisted will join you."

  The youth looked over to where Sigma-Prime indicated. Sure enough, a doorway opened, chiseling itself from the command center's edifice. He walked through the door and walked down the staircase.

  Sigma-Prime returned her attention to the next person to approach the door. With the gate having risen back up once the young man had crossed its threshold, it was ready for the next initiate.

  This next initiate was a woman. She touched her hand to the door. Unfortunately, the door did not open.

  "What does this mean?" she asked, fear in her voice.

  "Fear not!" she said to the woman. "All this means is you are not ready for the Order at this time. You have a choice before you: you can leave the sanctity of this compound and explore the world for your true purpose with our blessing. Or you can stay here for the time being, working to improve the camp, allowing yourself to take upon more duties for the Order's enrichment. If you take this latter path, you might arrive at your readiness for Order enlistment sooner than if you left to explore the world. What do you wish?"

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  "I really need to stay..." she said as a mouse would.

  "Understood. I have registered you as an 'Order Supporter.' You may return to your dwellings and await further instruction," she told the woman.

  The woman nodded and rushed off barely holding back her tears. Sigma-Prime wondered what imperfections she harbored. 'Not for the present to know such answers,' she mused.

  From whence, the day practically swam. People were sorted into their proper designations: frontline soldiers, engineering corps members, or Civilian Supporters. Not wasting time with idle chit-chat, she managed to go through most of the line which formed before her battery ran out. By which time she returned to her charging table, announcing to everyone she would return in several hours to finish the sorting.

  Back at her charging table, she mused on the results: twenty-soldiers, twelve civilian supporters. Yet only two engineering corps members. Then there were those who chose to leave when they failed to meet Order standards; of those people, another five percent of the camp left. 'Numbers are remaining stable,' she told herself several times. 'But if it keeps up at this rate, more work will be assigned to the remainder. No other way.' She turned her attention toward another matter, though. Namely, the question of 'the spread.'

  'Why are there so few engineering applicants?' she wondered. 'Quality of souls? Intellectual misapplication? Interest diversions?' she asked herself increasingly unlikely solutions to a question she could not ever hope to know. People were just that, people. Nothing of which could be done to change that and what they feel they were best suited for in life. She only hoped the second batch drifted more toward engineering. 'That's really why I am doing this,' she reminded herself. 'For Zan. For his orders. For my purpose.'

  Bing. The notification sounded.

  She looked at her battery percentage bar. Fully charged. Ready to resume carrying out Zan's will.

  Speaking of which, she thought. Zan must be close to waking by now. I will find that chef and have him start on a one-man feast.

  Sending a few impulses through the wires and system, she printed a simple message using ultra-biodegradable instant-paper. She sealed the note and folded it again. It would be bound for that chef, Paul-Paul. Once another civilian supporter was recruited, she would assign their first mission as the delivering of this message. With this notion out of her mind and a new note to create a device capable of delivering messages for her, least she ordered the creation of an entire 'courier corps' to fulfill her instant communicative needs.

  She returned to the recruitment task. Still much of the camp waited to be sorted. She unlatched her cables and returned to her labor.

  Back in her position, just behind the entrance, in the command center's first antechamber, she signaled for the trials to resume. She was happy to see the first applicant did not keep her waiting despite the time she forced them to wait. 'This is good,' she knew. 'It shows how much dedication they have.'

  Sigma saw Dave Dix approach the gate next. She knew his name only because she had seen Zan speak to him at times. And because he had taken a lead in the community during the troubled times early in the crisis. Though even then, she had seen him only sparingly.

  Dave Dix touched his palm to the door, and it opened with as much haste as she saw the door could muster. 'A good sign,' she thought. 'A man like Dave. He will surely want to take part as a soldier. He would be a good trainer for the younger soldiers. Every youth needs a man to look up to.'

  She gave Dave her usual spiel and asked where he wanted to be -- soldier or engineer.

  The answer she gave surprised him. "Engineer corps, please," he said.

  "I have registered you as an Engineer Corps Member. Please take the door to your left," she told Dave. Like the others, he went through with a smile on his face.

  The rest of the line passed with hardly an issue until the line neared its end and a group of clearly disgruntled figures came upon them. They came as a group. Of them, the designated leader approached the gate and said, "We refuse this test. It is unfair and based on negative philosophies. We demand to stay here under your protection while still enjoying the same rights as the rest of the camp. We are the Dissenters and refuse to obey some twisted golem's warped will."

  "That is all!" the leader said before snapping his fingers and leading his group away from her and back to the settlement at the bottom of Command Center Hill.

  "Did you see that?" Sigma-Prime asked Simulacrum.

  "I did see that. This will mean domestic trouble. Unfortunately, it looks like only Zan will be able to resolve this issue. I will alert him now and--"

  Now, she sent a counter-bing of her own. "That will not be necessary, Screen Master. Our grandmaster-in-training has made it clear he does not want to be bothered with these issues. I will alert him to any action he will have to take. Let's not have this be asked of our leader until we know for sure it is an issue which doesn't need his attention. Allow me to attempt and resolve this issue."

  "Very well. I will allow you to resolve this issue yourself. Should the issue spiral, however, I will inform Zan," Simulacrum informed.

  "Of course," was all she said on the outside. Inside, she told herself, 'I will not fail. This is my chance to prove myself not merely to our grandmaster-to-be but to show my worthiness to Simulacrum. Every iteration brings its own challenges and trials. I must make sure I and my Function get off to the best showing possible. It sets the tone for the whole iteration, after all, and so far, I haven't shown my mettle. Resolving this domestic squabble with these so-called 'dissenters' will be the perfect opportunity to showcase my talents.'

  Although the situation with The Dissenters did demand her attention, she could wait until later to address the matter.

  She checked the security cameras: chef Paul-Paul was in the kitchen, busy preparing a feast for the young master Zan who she saw had now stirred in his private chambers. He had observed Zan during every day he slept in the command center. When he woke, he did not like rising right away. Often, he liked to stay in bed and amuse himself, or simply stare at the ceiling, his gaze partially glazed over in deep thought.

  'Some people have waited half the day already. I need to get back to them. They are just waiting like a lot in the basement side-chambers. I will go to them now,' she said of the situation.

  An alert within her visor from the basement levels: [Crowd Restlessness: High]

  'Enough self-talk! I have to get down there and settle this -- for Zan!'