Brick (Technocrat)/Overview

xxxxxOrders are orders, but not every CAT scan's a CAT scan. Brick's learned his lesson now about asking what the tubes are called before letting the techies them shove him in one. All of Brick has. Each one. Some bright light in Control figured it'd be a lot cheaper getting a man into high orbit if you didn't have to take all that meat along. Just pack a hundred kilograms of raw carbon into a satellite fabricator with a mind state receiver, beam the guy's brain up in ones and zeroes and boom, instant human out on the Horizon. Faster than the speed of light, now the quantum entanglement bandwidth is pushing terrabyte territory. And the grunt? The grunt whose mind they photocopied and reinstalled who wakes up in pink fabber foam in a thousand different constructs at once, works fifty posts simultaneously in instance after instance out there in the big black? Well, maybe don't let the forks run into one another for morale's sake, but look at it this way: you'll never be paying out that life insurance policy.
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This is the HSV Pressure Drop. Don't panic: He's three inches long. Most of the time in public he hangs inactive from a chain around Brick's neck, just an abstract bit of metal and plierwork. Get away from stultified eyes and he whirs into life, anxious to learn all the things.