A huge projection board burst into existence before both the Azrens seated at the high table and the sea of recruits below. Its brilliance was an arresting blue, futuristic in its design, radiating the sort of sci-fi grandeur that seemed far too advanced for the moment.
The board stretched wide in a precise rectangular frame, its thick glowing edges humming faintly as though alive.
Slowly, one by one, heads began to materialize upon its surface, each image accompanied by a name inscribed beneath. The names rolled forward in perfect alphabetical order, until inevitably, the stream reached the "S" section. There, clear as daylight, appeared Simma's head with his name etched below in luminous script.
On the board, he looked slightly younger, almost softer, a faint cuteness in his features, though who, in that hall, had time to check such details? His attention sharpened. Not long after his own entry appeared, another followed:
