¿ǝɹɐ noʎ ʞuᴉɥʇ noʎ op oɥM

Participants:

kirk_icon.gif

Scene Title ¿ǝɹɐ noʎ ʞuᴉɥʇ noʎ op oɥM
Synopsis And, pressing of the Undefined / The definition on my mind, / Held up before my eyes a glass / Through which my shrinking sight did pass / Until it seemed I must behold / Immensity made manifold
Date June 29, 2021

A wristwatch alarm beeps softly in the dark.

Automatic lights come on one-by-one, flickering fluorescent in recessed sconces set into the concrete ceiling. Slowly sitting up in bed, a broad-shouldered man with blonde hair showing dark roots scrubs a hand over his stubbled jaw. With practiced movements he slides out of bed, changes sleeping clothes for workout sweats with running shoes and steps out into the concrete hallway. A boxy robot with a coffee maker installed in its chest wobbles down the hallway making a soft series of beeps and boops as it moves. On its back a piece of duct-tape has the name FRANK scribbled across it in sharpie marker. The blonde man snorts softly in amusement, putting in a pair of earbuds as he starts to jog out of the compound into flurries of snow.

Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly

Past the multiple blast doors, he jogs into that cold, wet air. It's cold enough to snow, this high up into the mountains, but not cold enough for it to collect meaningfully on the ground. As he starts to jog to the rhythm of the music, the blonde man heads across a retractable bridge that spans the gap of a ravine in the mountainside where a waterfall plunges hundreds of feet into billowing clouds of white mist below. The roar of the waterfall is a faint white noise behind his running music.

I turned on the lights, the TV, and the radio
Still I can't escape the ghost of you

The route is familiar enough, a circle around the road that leads—eventually—down into a remote village. But he never runs that far. He jogs off the road, checking his pulse on his watch, then turns around and runs right back the way he'd come. All told it's about five miles, a good run to wake up to at dawn. By the time he's returned to the squad little concrete bunker in the mountains, the snow has stopped and the sun threatens to come out through patchy clouds. On his way inside the blast doors, that little coffee robot is still wandering the main corridor beeping and chirping.

What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some'd say
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone away

A hot shower washes the sweat from a long run away, washes the previous days worries with it. Out of the shower, the blonde man checks his laptop while half-dressed. All systems are green, everything operating on normal parameters. Nothing to fire up a flare over. He finishes getting dressed by sliding into a bright orange jumpsuit with the words ARM stenciled down the right leg and on a patch across the chest, opposite where a nametag reads VISSER. Zipping the jumpsuit up most of the way, Visser puts on his thick-framed eyeglasses and steps out of his quarters, crossing the main hall and entering the production lab.

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find

An enormous rectangular 3D printer is currently in the process of fabricating a human skeleton from organic material bases. The bones are each individually held in place by tiny, spidery mechanical limbs. Other articulated arms are fusing pre-fabricated muscle tissue pulled out of gel-filled canisters onto the muscles. All of the work is done within a protein-enriched fluid suspension. Tiny air bubbles gurgling to the surface of the slurry as the machines work. Visser stops by the machine, looking at the access panel. His brows furrow together, head tilts to the side. When was this started?

And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

"Hallo!" Visser calls out into the lab. The few workstations here are idle, no one is around. "Colin?" He turns around and walks backwards, squinting at the doorway he'd come in from. "Is er iemand?" He calls out, walking around the wall of monitors at Colin's workstation. There's a paper coffee cup on an octagonal cork coaster, steam rising up from within. Visser wrinkles his nose, slowly turning around again. "Col—"

Passion or coincidence
Once prompted you to say
"Pride will tear us both apart"

The concrete floor is cold. Droplets of blood look like tiny, glistening rubies on the bare stone. Visser feels himself moving, dragged. The blood smears, leaving dark smudges across the stone. Blearily, he turns to look, spotting a dark silhouette holding on to one of his legs, hauling him across the lab floor. He grunts when he is dragged across a threshold, the rough metal frame briefly cuts into his side. His world is swimming, mouth is a constellation of pain. His tongue finds a missing tooth.

Well, now pride's gone out the window
Cross the rooftops
Run away

"We can't do this." Someone says, muffled as if they were underwater. He's had a head injury. Blurred vision, muffled hearing. It's bad. Visser reaches up and touches the back of his head and it comes away dark and wet. Blood. Things start to slot together, panic, confusion. He recognizes the man who is dragging him. His heart begins to race. Another figure steps into view, long, dark hair and a squinting countenance. He knows them both.

Left me in the vacuum of my heart
What is happening to me?
Crazy, some'd say

colin_icon.gif verse_icon.gif

Where is my friend when I need you most?
Gone away

"Give me another solution." Colin says to his brother. Verse shrugs, throwing his hands into the air. "You don't have the operational range. I can't send you out there." Colin's brother doubles back, circling, then brandishes a hand down at the dazed Visser.

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find

"So what're you gonna do, just kill him?" Verse shouts. "I'm not going to let you just—just murder someone because—"

And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

"Deactivate Turing mode." Colin says with a tightness in his voice, and his brother suddenly becomes slack-jawed and dead-eyed. Visser struggles, trying to pull himself away but has a difficult time orienting his motor functions. He doesn't just feel concussed, he feels drugged. Colin motions to his brother. "Get him on the table." At that directive, Verse slowly turns and leans over to grab Visser by the arms and lift him up. Visser tries to scream, to call for help, something. But nothing comes.

Papers in the roadside
Tell of suffering and greed
Fear today, forgot tomorrow

He is hefted bodily, thrown down onto an examination table and restrained. Verse follows the orders without hesitation, and Visser cannot scream. He groans, more than anything. His mouth feels heavy, hands feel prickling, and sleep feels like a real threat. But this isn't sleep. This doesn't feel like sleep. This feels like—


Phoenix Heights

New York City Safe Zone
June 29th


It is warm and wet. Greasy rain falls on Kirk's forehead, rolls down his cheeks and mats his blonde hair showing dark roots to his head. His sleeping clothes are soaked through, bare feet stained black on the soles for how far he's run barefoot. With a few gasping, then choking breaths, Kirk feels the acrid taste of wildfire smoke in his mouth. He twists, looking up at the buildings looming overhead—unfamiliar, foreign. He's never been to this part of Phoenix Heights. The sky is a dirty shade of rust. His heart is racing.

And I don't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find

"What the fuck?" Kirk gasps, looking down at his shaking hands. He looks back up to the sky, eyes stinging from the filthy rain. "What the fuck?"

And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world

"What the fuck!?"

I will learn to survive


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License