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Eventually the steel doll led you to a colossal metallic monolith awkwardly dressed in crimson Tech-Priest robes. A section on its side hissed open, revealing a human-shaped interior filled with blinking lights and humming machinery.
A voice, bright and chipper, boomed from within. "Alright, meatbag, welcome home! Squeeze on in, don't be shy. Just a quick Quality Control cuddle, nothing to worry about. Maybe some tunes while we're at it? Or a nice game of bingo? It's gonna take a lil' while."
You stared at the compartment, then back at the Figalina doll with you, who beamed with manic cheer.
"Uh... in there?" you stammered, gesturing to the open cavity lined with wires.
Figalina's laughter echoed from the metallic giant. "Of course, silly! It's me, your friendly neighborhood Tech-Priest, Figalina! Sorry, my main 'bod is far too bombastically sexy to shake hands with. Come on in, the inspection chamber's nice and toasty!"
A bead of sweat trickled down your temple. The interior of the cavity was surprisingly warm and cramped, the metal walls seeming to press in on you from all sides. With a resigned sigh, you stepped further inside, the metal platform adjusting with a mechanical whir to accommodate your height.
"Alright, psyyyyker," Figalina's voice echoed through the chamber, still maintaining its cheerful lilt. "Welcome to Quality Control! First up, a little blood work. Nothing fancy, just a quick check-up. Think of it like a spa treatment! Now, don't flinch when the little fellas come out to play, okay?"
Before you could respond, you felt a prick on your arm, followed by a faint whirring sound. A thin needle emerged from one of the walls, retracted momentarily, then plunged back in a different spot.
"There you go, champ!" Figalina chirped. "See? Easy peasy! Now, let's see what kind of music you fleshies listen to these days. We've got some classic hymns to the Machine God, some electrofunk... oh, there's even some hiver rock from Ginaferra! What tickles your fancy?"
"...Hymns sound good," you offered, your voice echoing slightly in the metal chamber.
"Excellent choice!" Figalina's voice boomed through the speakers, a touch too enthusiastic. A moment later, a somber chant filled the chamber.
"So, Figalina," you ventured, your voice barely audible over the chanting, "what exactly is this machine looking for?"
"Oh, the usual!" she chirped, the cheerfulness returning, but tinged with a nervous edge. "Tissue quality, genetic purity... the standard stuff, you know? But most importantly..." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper,
"We gotta make sure you're not a psyker. Can't have any loose cannons wandering around here in Zlatino, setting off random explosions with their minds, right? Now that would be a PR nightmare! Total blow to the brand image!"
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