High above, hovering silently, overseeing ideas and thoughts, peering through mists and depths, there is Freeside, the Unblinking Eye of Octagon.
It orbits that which has no horizon, it chases after that which doesn't move.
Silently, unblinking, unerring, unknowing... silently, wherever, whoever...
The iris of the eye dilates, the optical system focusing down upon this small, insignifigant canine. Closer it zooms, closer still, until detail gives way to definition, and a clear image of the creature can be seen.
Deep within Image Processing Station GY-34, nestled within the heart of the Soviet Union External Intelligence Bureau, there is a sound. A repeated sound... a sound unlike any machine or vehicle, unlike any drill sergeant or troop order.
Esper doesn't quite know what about the dog strikes her as funny, all she knows is that every ten to fifteen yards, her laughter begins again.
