Participants:
| Scene Title | The Resistance Has Need Of A Technopath |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | While Alia might be in an unknown and very quiet world, once Eli finds out what she can do he starts making plans for her within the Resistance (that he needs to clear with the boss, of course). |
| Date | November 9, 2017 |
Temporary Resistance HQ
They're always temporary.
It has not been long since their arrival at the ruined building that housed a few vehicles. There’s less people than one might have expected, and even less in the way of technology. Radios seem to be the extent. The vehicles all are older than the 90s, with very little in the way of electronic computerization. There’s the buzz of a stray iPod somewhere in the distance. Old and outdated, but still working. Car batteries lay about, barrels of gasoline, all looking as if they are ready to be loaded up in a truck and moved at a moment’s notice.
There’s lookouts up in nearby trees, at the roofs of half broken buildings, but there’s none of what they faced on the way out of Manhattan in the air around them. No, they’d escaped them, for the moment.
“You look like you got a little in over your head,” an Eli suddenly says, looking over at one of the many newcomers as he takes a drink from a flask. The rain has stopped. Though the sky remains cloudy, thunderheads threatening. “What made you decide to hop dimensions?”
The dimension hopping doesn’t seem to be a surprise to those who had shown up, though they hadn’t had much chance to explain why. They’d been trying to escape in one piece, after all.
Alia has been gritting her teeth since the close call to being fully connected to one of the exploding drones. But that was then, this is now. “Tired of being nobody. Just a librarian tech. Then Liz.” Alia smiles, “things got weird. Thought would be safer going, staying.” Alia sighs, then shrugs. “Drones, issue often?” She inquires.
“That seems like a pretty bad decision on your part, kid,” Eli responds with a hiked eyebrow, though he obviously doesn’t know for sure what kind of world she came from. He doubted this had been what she’d expected. “The other side, the ones we’re resisting— they use the machines to hunt us down, so yes, they happen often enough.” He takes another sip from his flask, before glancing over at the shattered rooftop, perhaps checking to make sure the people on watch are doing their jobs.
“We’ve had this girl, younger than you, who came from a pretty soft world. Eve’s been working on teaching her how to survive in this one. You’ll learn to, or you’ll probably die like hundreds of thousands of others who can’t learn to live in this world.” And all of those he was talking about were natives, who watched their world go to war around them and change drastically in a few years. “You got anything that might be useful, cause I’m not sure sword skills are gonna be of much use against the hunters.”
“Got gassed.” She notes. “Archery, technopath, brains.” She offers. Alia isn't crying over spilt milk. “If close and not neutralized, we get new pet?” She grins impishly. “Was trying for flying one. Crashed right as I grabbed on.”
Alia grimaces, “and…sorry about odd speech. Language Disorders. Picture in head, may not easily become word in mouth.” She Apologizes. “Already learning how to…’hear’ further. iPod Touch, Wi-Fi is on.” She points in the general direction of the device. “Interesting music taste.”
The speech patterns, once she explains them, earn a solemn nod from Eli as he’s paying far more attention to what else she is saying. Suddenly there’s a second one of him that seems to step out from behind him as if he had always been there. That one moves off as if with a purpose, that he doesn’t even need to voice. He made the Omega for a reason, after all, as he looks over the young woman again with a new curiosity.
“Not a good idea to bring a pet home, unless you want to scare everyone or have them shoot it.” But from the way he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he’s got an idea. Or three.
From the way he says it very handy. “Know what your range is?”
“20 yards, sure lock. Past that, possible, but still getting used to it.” Alia eyes the second Eli warily herself. “Easier here, less noise.” Well, it’s true. There’s less to distract a technopath in this environment. “Might manage out to 50 yards.” She hedges, “If it was quiet like this.”
She shrugs. “Choices. Better to make bad ones, then make none at all?” Still, she’s watching the Eli as if she realizes he’s got something in mind. Even if she isn’t sure what yet. Or if that she exactly trusts him fully. “Target?” she inquires with a straightforwardness that might be a bit shocking.
It is quiet. Almost too much so.
“People don’t tend to trust tech these days, not with the way that they’re churning it out. It could turn on us at any moment,” the older man responds, looking off into the distance as if checking on something. Cause his world, unfortunately, is not quiet. Not at all. It’s very loud.
“Can you do more than sense them? You mentioned making them a pet— and while I might think that would be a good idea, you really would be scaring the shit out of those on our side.” And frankly, he’s not sure anyone would trust her the same as she’s not sure she trusts him.
Except maybe whoever talked her into leaving her world behind. “We get a lot of our ammo from the bots. If you could disable them without blowing them up or letting them fire off all their rounds, we could salvage a lot more.”
“Trick, get close, no gas, then sure.” Wait, she's game for getting shot at again to help? Crazy lady. Still, Alia seems to be willing to walk the walk. “Need spot to ambush, no line of sight” after all, why give the robots free shots when she can work through most nonmetal walls.
“A’right. Let’s plan for a robot hunt if I can get the boss to approve it.” Eli smirks as if he thinks that she just might if he asks in the right way. Even if it would mean that he gets to be the target practice. The robots can’t really tell the difference between him and his clones, after all. He often acts as the decoy when such a thing is needed.
Most no one seems to care how many hims get killed. As long as it’s not the original him, at least.
“Get some rest, get cleaned up, and I’ll find you when I get an answer.” And they’ll find out just how much she can do.