Participants:
| Scene Title | There's No Time |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Rebel comes to see Warren Ray's progress on a pet project and has it shipped off to China. |
| Date | October 10, 2010 |
"Rough week, rough, awkward, week.
But this particular Sunday afternoon has been spent setting up a demonstration. Televisions and cameras lined up down a straight 100 yard line, leading all the way into a two story building that's largely in ruins like everything else, but he's repaired the electricity and stuffed it full of random electronics. For Rebel's benefit, just in case, there's also a small laptop on a table behind Warren, and in front of Warren is a five foot long 8 inch wide cannon, with god knows how many microwave generators lined up and funnelled inside of it. The finish is as reflective as his eyes currently are, apparently a big fan of chrome-like things lately, keeping it held up by around eight legs on each side.
"The final version will be smaller, but they'll have essentially the same energy output." He's wearing his black suit, jacket unbuttoned, making sure everything is secure as his white gloved fingers flick locks and make last minute checks. "You'll get four one minute shots, if you go for a fifth shot, the generators could combust… correction, will most likely combust. I haven't found a way around it, my resources limit my options. If I had enough resources and workers, I could build a robot to go up there and punch the thing with boxing gloves."
Much to the amazement of anyone else possibly listening, Warren Ray is in fact not talking to himself.Over one of the televisions there come static, then across an old cell phone then finally — and perhaps the least dignified — a radio-alarm clock coffee pot that crackles with a voice. «There is no time for a smaller version to be made.» Everyone is a critic.
Crackling and popping over the radio build in to the coffee pot, Rebel's three-part harmony of voices rises and falls as he speaks, as if his signal were fading in and out. «While Richard wished you to make a canon capable of shooting the Satellite out of orbit, the team headed to the space station is already en-route. The weapon will need to be disassembled and shipped in components overseas. I can provide necessary funds and the address for the components and fast-forward it through customs. But it must be mailed out today.»
The coffee pot splutters and pops, followed by one of the cell phones turning on its speakerphone. «I should have told you sooner, but there have been complications. There is a technical-minded woman present who can reassemble your device, but they will need time to.» Unfortunately, his tone seems to note his disappointment in the fabric of time not bending to his every whim. «This will have to do.»
Much to the amazement of anyone else possibly listening, Warren Ray is in fact not talking to himself.Over one of the televisions there come static, then across an old cell phone then finally — and perhaps the least dignified — a radio-alarm clock coffee pot that crackles with life, then dies as a technopathic presence leaps from it to the laptop hooked up at the demonstration area. «There is no time for a smaller version to be made.» Everyone is a critic.
Chirping through the laptop's speakers, Rebel's presence is otherwise unobtrusive on the machine. However, the technopath's three-part harmony of voices rises and falls as he speaks, as if his signal were fading in and out. «While Richard wished you to make a canon capable of shooting the Satellite out of orbit, the team headed to the space station is already en-route. The weapon will need to be disassembled and shipped in components overseas. I can provide necessary funds and the address for the components and fast-forward it through customs. But it must be mailed out today.»
The laptop flickers once, as though suffering from a power surge, but the voice remains. «I should have told you sooner, but there have been complications. There is a technical-minded woman present who can reassemble your device, but they will need time to.» Unfortunately, his tone seems to note his disappointment in the fabric of time not bending to his every whim. «This will have to do.»
"Disassemble? Can I really trust this woman to put this back together? It's an extremely precise and delicate instrument, that you're taking into space. If you can trust this woman, then, alright, but I just want you to be sure." Warren starts flicking switches, about five of them, mostly for safety purposes. "Five switches, they're the trigger. You flick them up, that's one shot, then you flick them back down, that's another shot, and so on. One or two switches does nothing, it's a safety precaution. This could melt someone. I don't know how your ability works, but there's a chance the televisions and cameras might fry on the way to the building. This is my last test before my final output adjustment."
Then it starts, like the hum of a microwave amplified to a Hypnotoad-like roar that rips through the air. The lined up televisions begin to combust, cameras melt, paper on the ground bursts into flames, and when it hits that house? Things flicker, then suddenly all Rebel will hear is popping and sizzling, then the generator just outright stops, overloaded beyond repair. The wave just keeps going, like Luke on steroids, and when it stops, any electronic part within the arc of the wave is just deader than dead. Now all Rebel has to inhabit is the laptop behind him.
«She is a technopath, she will understand.»
Rebel's answer comes long belated after the explosion of microwave energy directed towards the building. Smoke, sparks and the stink of molten plastic fills the air. «Provided that it remains the same as it is now, she will understand. Your cooperation in the development of this weapon is much appreciated, without it there would be no alternative but to risk another young man's life in order to destroy the satellite.»
Rebel seems awkward, communicating through the laptop's speakers as he is, his responses delayed as well, perhaps latency from wherver he is broadcasting from. He's not quick enough, not in speech, tobe directly inhabiting the hardware. Probably as a precaution with that much wild microwave energy capable of scrambling electroics hanging about. God knows what a weapon like this would do to him.
«Secondly, do you work with radio broadcasting equipment?»
"I'm cooperating because that satellite will make the Institute far more powerful than I'm comfortable with, and would conflict with my plans. I also wanted to establish a working relationship with you. You work with computers, something I know little to nothing about. And I thought you might help me." Warren begins inspecting the cannon, pulling a brown notebook from his jacket, then starts scribbling notes, and working on a rough diagram. Who knows if the other person will need it. "I do, it's nothing as sophisticated as I would have if I knew how to program, but I do work with radio equipment. And I'm going to ship a rough blueprint out with the cannon, just in case."
Silent about the notion of the blueprint— it's a good idea— Rebel instead latches on to the notion of radio transmitters. «There isn't much time, but you and I both would benefit if you would be able to create a broad-range radio transmisison jammer. It needs to cover as wide an area as possible. Unfortunately the area I am looking to cover is larger than any modern technology is currently capable of, but at least a few square blocks would save thousands of lives.»
Rebel's voice on the computer wavers, grows distant and then rises back again to higher volume. «I may not… be available for you to connect with for future projects, but I do owe you for your services. Therefore, I am going to afford you information that you may be able to utilize to better suit your needs. Richard Cardinal has in his employ a technopath named Alia, she is the woman who will be reassembling your device. She is familiar with machines and electronics, and could compliment your skills.»
Then, however, Rebel hesitates before offering the next piece of information. «Furthermore, there is a technopath named Wireless. You can contact her in the same way you can contact me. If you wish her to do anything other than ignore you, tell her that David Rooijker sent you. I would also be wary, she despises the Institute.»
"Very useful information, and well worth the effort of this project. And, as grateful as I am… I can't blindly build a radio transmission jammer without at least an idea of what I'm doing it for. I don't need details, just enough to assure that I'm doing it for the right reasons." Warren continues writing, eyes scanning over the damaged area so he can take notes of that. The area of effect, and just how much damage the current output did. "I'll be dealing with the Institute soon, but my plans will take a little time. And, if I could ask one more request, in exchange for this jammer; do you know a trustworthy telepath? I need to make sure my mind stays the way it is now, I don't want to take chances and become crazy again."
«A radio jammer will help prevent the November 8th riots. Something in the airwaves that day… I believe it may be a sign, or a signal. It must not be broadcast.»
Then, as Rebel considers the view of Warren and the smoking building from his vantage point inside of the laptop, viewing thorugh the onboard webcam, he grows silent. The question posed to him is not an easy one, and bias cuts across his answer and divides it from something more fair.
«There is no such thing as a trustworthy telepath»
"Fair enough, I'll take a look at what I have and see what I can do about that jammer. But how long do we need to keep the signals blocked? That's a very important variable. And what would be the ideal area to begin the jamming from?" Warren stares over at the laptop with those reflective eyes, as if an unsaid thought just crossed his mind. He has Rebel in a laptop next to a microwave cannon. That he can get him into this situation is something to keep in mind, just in case Rebel ever decides to go insane… "And a fair point about telepaths. I'll figure something out."
«I don't know, but if anyone does, it may be Richard.» The voice in the computer resonates, a trinity of individuals all conveying the same unified message. «I wouldn't know where to begin to start, someone with more understanding of what happens in the future, when the worst of it is going to come would know better. We did not experience the Flash as others did.» There's a moment of silence from the computer while smoke issues out of the blown out windows of the electronics store, twisting and coiling into the air.
«The address to deliver the package to has been uploaded into this computer. You will find a credit card number included with the data, you may use this to pay for the shipment. I would advise against using the number twice.»
Then, without so much as a farewell, the computer just goes quiet. For all his multitudes of consciousness, for all his knowledge and perceived wisdom, Rebel has a distinct lack of human social graces left. That, and after today, he has a great many things on his mind.
Warren carefully crouches down, pressing his gloved hand against the ground as he closes his eyes. "So that's how it is, city? You're just going to tell me how to fix you?" He smiles, opening his eyes again to stare up at the sky, silver fading so he can stare at the clouds with far less analytical sight. "Baby steps."