acatalepsy_logs | ( the sickness: phase two )

( the sickness: phase two )

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the sickness ends.

the temple.

The Temple, shortly after Astoria's burst of energy, is in a constant state of growth. Trees are bursting into existence from seeds in mere seconds, flowers are growing wherever magic lands . . . and the Temple is abruptly a-buzz with energy, magic crackling throughout the air. You may find a tree in your house, or flowers suddenly growing along the walls, or plants wiggling their way through the stone walls of the buildings of the Temple. All of a sudden, the place looks very overgrown.

The Forest of the Fey seems to be responding in kind, too. Sprites are exceptionally active, darting out of the Forest and into the Temple with increasingly regularity, playing basic little tricks on the members of the Circle they can find. Flower crowns are made at an alarming rate, and there might be a few fruit-food fights that break out with the sudden abundance of peaches and apples that appear on the grounds. Learn how to duck!

With the magic comes the sudden fluctuation of energy: canon powers flicker on and off, as do the powers granted by Astoria. You feel more like yourself, you suddenly have access to energies you did not have previously in the Temple However, it's a double-edged sword -- it is not constant, and it may be more trouble than its worth.

And, remember: the Sickness is not fading immediately. If you make it to Stage 3, then you're stuck with sensory deprivation for at least another week or two. Sorry, friends.

lake dona.

Lake Dona is a massive body of water, stretching outward for so far that it almost seems like an ocean until you see that the water is fresh. It is surrounded by long, leafy trees that dip into the water and has a variety of ancient ruins scattered around it -- weathered stones set into circles at seemingly even intervals, old buildings that seem to mirror the Temple in construct.

In addition to the ruins, there are a network of caverns tucked along the water’s edge, just underneath the surface on the western side of Lake Dona, that appear to go underground into murky darkness. The actual entrance to these caverns seem to be underwater, seemingly guarded by merfolk, but poking around may seem to be more trouble than its worth.

There is plenty of wildlife to be found within the lake itself, ranging from freshwater mermaids who would rather you stay the hell out of their backyard to a rather large and suspiciously friendly plesiosaurus-like creature (some would say that she prefers to be called Nessie) that seems intent on checking out who you are. The lake teems with odd-looking fish, most of which seem to be okay to eat, and plenty of plant life! But who knows what lurks in the depths below . . . that giant sea-monster looking thing has to be eating something.
PROMPT IDEAS: Here are some prompt ideas for this new area! However, don't feel limited to such ideas! Feel free to fish, to explore, to swim, to poke around . . . it's always possible Astoria may check in on your character, too, once she is feeling better! ;)

1.) The Great Pumpkin The overgrowth of plants have caused a massive growth spurt in a lot of the trees, including the fruit trees that sprinkle themselves throughout the Temple. However, the fruit themselves seems to be growing at a rather . . . alarming rate, resulting in a few pumpkin-looking squash growing to the size of small boulders in the fields. Hope you have a lot of spare time on your hands to make a hell of a lot of Temple-pie, because these squash aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

2.) Food Fight!: Those damn sprites are at it again, and are collecting fruit off the ground and throwing it at people. Fight back, organize, and conquer! Or not. It's probably better to just not.

3.) Part Of Your World: The mermaids within Lake Dona are a suspicious lot, and they don't take kindly to strangers stomping through their territory. However, they are receptive to music, so if you are so musically inclined, they will definitely be more inclined to be a little more playful than territorial. If you aren't? Have fun getting tossed into the lake head-first by a bunch of pissed off mermaids who want you to get the hell of their lawn. They don't take kindly to your type around here.

4.) Nessie: Within Lake Dona is a massive plesiosaurus-type creature which seems to be . . . oddly friendly? It seems to pop up at the most inconvenient of times. Are you sitting on the edge of the lake enjoying the water? Enjoy a massive ass dinosaur sticking its impressively long neck out of the lake to check you out and also scare the bejesus out of you. That being said, Nessie is an extraordinarily friendly being, and will even give you laps around the lake if you ask nicely!

5.) Caverns: The caverns within the lake are dark, deep, and menacing The merfolk inform you that you cannot go there -- no one can, but the merfolk sure seem to be keeping a careful eye out on it. Testing the boundaries indicates a weird magical field around the entrance of the cave, that works like a bit of a forcefield. Weird, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jesus fucking christ, are you even listening to yourself? Did I like, set off some kind of hidden protocol in your head that just makes you just- I don't know. I don't even know. I'm not even going to touch that, any of that, what you just said. What I know is that I can make rational judgement calls and my rational judgement is calling no.

You said feeling- the way I do fucks you up. You looked like it fucked you up. You sure sounded like it fucked you up. And you know what? I'm gonna listen to that. Call it a stupid human thing, write it off. It's not gonna happen.

[He only realizes his hands are waving around when the bottle makes a noise, and he steadies it quickly - clumsily, but quickly - to make sure it doesn't fall over. There's not much left, so it'd suck if it spilled.]

You know what you can do for me? [He shakes the bottle.] I got an arrangement with a guy. But his first batch sucked, this tastes awful. It's sweet but like, in a gross way. If you're really in this to help me, you can help him make this shit taste better. I mean, unless this is you trying to prove some kind of weird point, in which case, don't use me to test out how tough you are.

[He hardly knows where to begin. His suggestion is so thoroughly tossed away that he’s fairly certain Hank will not even entertain the idea, and Connor derides himself for reacting to emotion in such a way. It shouldn’t matter. It won’t matter. He can do better, it’s happened before, more than once. And he’s fine and functioning now, isn’t he? The pieces that no longer fit, the errors that keep building up in the background of his running processes, he can compartmentalize. That’s an advantage he has over humans and he knows that.]

This is for your own good, Hank. Me helping you with making your alcohol taste better will not.

[That’s as stark of a denial as it comes, as stringent as Hank’s.]

Why do you care how it affects me, anyway? [Negotiation tactic: make the other aware of what their own priorities should be.] You said it yourself — I’m a machine. And I’m made to aid humans. How is it concern, or your loss, whatever happens to my programming internally?

[Hank sighs. He hesitates, looks almost embarrassed, sounds resigned.]

You're a really advanced machine, you know? Made to look just like a human. Don't know if you noticed that. And when you- I don't know. Maybe there is nothing going on in there, inside you, and when you said 'no, this was a mistake' that was just a little bit of me, still hanging out. But- It sure looked like you were in pain. Real pain.

[Hank meets Connor's eyes, but only for a second. He's looking away before he's even gone on talking, leaning back his head and closing his eyes, grimacing at the empty dark behind them.]

Guess you can call me a sucker. Fell for the trick you're designed for. But I can't do it. I can't see you look like that again, knowing it's my fault. I just can't.

[One failed negotiation tactic. Pushing logic is next in line, though there’s something uneasy about what Hank said that makes it lose its fervency. As if he speaks knowing it won’t land, not the way he means for it to.]

I can’t feel pain, I’m not alive. If you know this to be true, then rationalize what you’re seeing away.

[As if it were so easy. Connor shifts uncomfortably where he sits. Registers how his shoes feel wet and squishy; he wonders if they’re ruined.]

You have a habit of being unnecessarily worried for me. Even if you don’t remember it, Lieutenant.

[Hank slouches a little, shoulders hunching.]

That just makes me a moron, it doesn't mean I'm suddenly gonna be able to rationalize away you- [He doesn't need to go over it. They both know how he'd describe Connor's little fit earlier. When he can't stand the dark anymore he opens his eyes, taking a drink.] Look, I know what I can handle, okay? Telling me how stupid I am for not reacting like a brain in a jar isn't going to change that. I'm not like you, in case you haven't noticed. I can't just turn shit off and decide that I can deal with it.

…Right. I know that.

[His mind works differently, can handle more. Can process faster. Information darting along faux synapses, calculations that a human could only dream of achieving in the blink of an eye.

Logically, this should be easier than it is. Logically, a lot of this shouldn’t be so complicated.]

I just want you to know that I’m willing to aid you even if you think it’s at my own detriment. What’s the alternative? Are you really going to refuse to touch anyone from here on out? That isn’t healthy. And you're already in a delicate state.

Delicate.

[Hank huffs to himself, the sound quiet and amused, and chews over that, sucking at his teeth.]

I'm not made of glass. I'm a big boy, I can decide whether other people's mental health is worth me being able to hold hands every once in a while. Why are you always so worried about my health anyway? I mean, I guess you kinda told me, but- I don't know. Something about it doesn't click right. Doesn't make sense.

What doesn’t make sense about it?

[A way of sidestepping reiterating himself — what he said before still stands. It only takes fancy rhetoric to make it sound like something an android should still adhere to, and Connor needs a moment for that.]

Any of it. I don't know, I guess- Ah, fuck. I'm not up to explaining it.

[Hank watches his hands.]

I just, I feel like hearing it would help, uh- I don't know, it just seems to me like you'd get a lot more positives out of just walking away and forgetting I'm even stuck here with you than you do out of, you know, this. Maybe hearing it from you would help me see it, help it make more sense, why you try so hard to stick around. But uh, I guess that's kind of stupid too, isn't it? None of this makes sense, no one here, not anything about it. And none of it's going to. Don't know why I expect you to be the exception.

[He should be able to be glad about the silver lining of this whole 'I'm a brain floating in empty space' feeling, at least. It should at least be kind of convenient that being thrown around by an angry creature from the black lagoon didn't even phase him, physically. Because it didn't. He can't feel a thing. Shouldn't even be tired.]

I did tell you once before. You didn’t believe me.

[Don’t make him say it again, Hank. Don’t make him twist up the words like he has to portray them as something that makes sense in the context of what he is. Why did Hank have to be so disbelieving, and not accept it for what it was?]

Is it that you wish for me to repeat myself? In that case — our experiences together in the coming days, back in Detroit, accentuated our ability to work well together as a cohesive unit. That, and I believed your manner to be exponentially… friendlier towards me, as opposed to how you were when you newly arrived in the Temple.

Of course that would encourage me to want to remain in your company, and to make certain you’re doing well overall. In my mind, the parameters of our relationship are different than what you’ve yet experienced. Does that make sense to you now?

Absolutely fuckin not.

[See this face? This is a face that does not believe. This is a face that listens to long explanations just as well as short ones, that listened to that explanation, and that found it to be a lot of words for the same kind of bullshit. The strength of his what-the-fuck gives him a little energy; maybe he does have it in him to explain, now.]

Okay, point one: Look at where we are. The first night I was here I met someone real ready to be your cohesive unit, you've got your pick of em. Point two: Friendlier?

Connor, you're driving me to drink, and I'm trying to conserve this shit. Why the hell does friendly matter to you? If point one is true - and it is - and you just really need a... a partner, I guess, you've got no one telling you here that partner's got to be me, and there are plenty of people who'd come with a whole lot more advantages attached than I do. So if that's the case and you just need a partner, how friendly I am shouldn't matter. How friendly and healthy I am, and however... whatever else it is you want out of me, it doesn't matter, not if your overall goal is just 'form a cohesive unit'. And if that's not your overall goal, why aren't you just telling me what that is?

There's something I'm missing here and I've got no idea what it could be, cause... [He sighs, looking away, lips pursed, his expression twisted up in reluctance, embarrassment.] You... what you said you felt, the first time I uh- fuck, got my feelings-cooties all over you, or whatever. I don't know what all you got out of that, but you've got to know why I can't be... objective. Like, I can't- there's some android thing I'm not getting, here, and I was kind of hoping- I was thinking you could spell it out for me.

Edited (clarity) 2018-09-25 21:12 (UTC)

[There’s that wall again, coming down between them, but this time Connor is the one who’s ensuring it exists. He even wonders why — he had referred to other people as friends before, had even told Arenvald that he considered Hank a friend, in one conversation. But to say it out loud before the man incites something strange in him, shaped like trepidation, in knowing that the Lieutenant might just laugh at them, or ask him again what’s wrong with him, or tell him that he’s broken because this man knows how androids are supposed to behave in their world, unlike anyone else here—

He’s never felt this before. Like he literally can’t get the words out. Maybe there was something wrong with his software, continually being strained. Fear of rejection does that to a person.]

I thought I was clear. I just—

[He hasn’t noticed the way he wrings his hands together. One word at a time.]

I was told that... to return to how we once were, I shouldn’t give up on you. Or that you’d eventually come around, with time. And it would be easier to become friends again.

So. You just... You just want to be friends?

[His expression of disbelief is back, but any trace of derision is gone. There's no room in him for it. He looks down at his hands around the bottle and thinks that he has never been so sure that this is all a dream - except, he has been, there hasn't been a day that's gone by in this place that he hasn't thought that. It got worse this week, sure, but he's been thinking it for longer.

But just because it's an old and tired thought doesn't mean he can shake it off. He'll wake up, remember dreaming about Connor saying he just wants to be friends, and spend about ten minutes rolled onto his face and letting the heavy, oily feeling spread through him before rolling out of bed to start the morning hangover routine.

But then he looks up and Connor's still there. So he has to deal with it like it's real, like that's actually a thing that just happened.]

Fuck. [It's not angry, that word. It's almost the opposite, a blank, helpless sort of fuck.] Um. Christ, uh...

Why?

[Uncertain what response he would get, and not expecting the question in return, Connor feels strangely exposed. Like his insides are all on display for Hank to prod at, unknowingly, if he wanted — pulsing tubes of blue and wires and casings that make up all that he is. It’s nigh debilitating. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

He tries to formulate a reply. Why? Processes draw up rational reasons, the pros that outweigh the cons, but his tongue is stilled by that bewildered look the Lieutenant is giving him.]

Because I... [What kind of question is Why? His LED stutters at his temple.]

Because you’re familiar. [Social programming pings that as negative, unsatisfactory. Not quite reflecting his meaning. He casts his gaze to the side, and tries again.]

Because it’s not preferable for me to be the only one here from Detroit. And though you’re present now, and have been for weeks, I still feel as if I’m the singular presence here from our world.

Becoming friendlier and more familiar with each other, I think, would aid in quelling this perceived experience.

[Hank's expression goes on a journey. It starts at interest, when Connor doesn't seem to know what to say even after he's started saying it. Then it moves to disappointment. Then, when Connor goes into details, Hank's face twists into something almost a sneer. He shifts around against the wall, turning a little away and leaning on his shoulder. He can feel that, a little, not in actual sensation but in the pressure of the awkward way he's twisting it.]

Your friend said that too. That coming from the same place makes us 'connected'. He been feeding you that bullshit too?

[He doesn't bother to look at Connor as he says it. Fuck this shit.]

[He perceives Hank's dissatisfaction before the man says anything at all. It makes all manner of explanations rush to the forefront of his mind, until he can barely sort them all out, as if his system is overclocking itself to right whatever wrong he's uttered.]

No. That isn't what I mean. Not exactly.

[He knows which friend he's referring to. Doesn't even have to ask, and has no desire to bring him into this conversation in case Hank feels like speaking ill of him.]

It isn't only because we come from the same world. It's because of the time spent in it, too. And knowing that we had been friendly once, and to see you now look at me with contempt, it's... very isolating. Like losing something, instead of regaining it.

[He still doesn't look up at Connor but his expression twists with guilt, and then resentment, on the heels of it.]

Fuck, you can't tell me it's okay to traumatize you with my stupid issues one minute and then turn around and tell me I hurt your feelings.

[Hank's quiet for a second and then his voice comes out different, more honest, though there's still threads of resentment in it.]

Look, it's not like... I don't- I might feel some contempt for what you are but not, not who you are. I mean it's not-

[It's not your fault you are what you are. He's not sure if that makes a difference to him, to that contempt Connor was talking about. It not being Connor's fault doesn't mean a part of Hank stops remembering what he does whenever he looks at him. So there goes that line of dialogue. He tries to find another angle, something still honest, but less likely to leave him feeling like the shit under Connor's shoe after he says it.]

I can't do- whatever that other Hank did. He was great, he was wonderful, he was the wind beneath your wings, I can't be that. If you're just sticking with me for that, you- You can't have what's gone, Connor. I'm not that guy. Don't hang around with me trying to find him.

But if- If you do think of some wild, far out something you get out of putting up with me, I mean- [His voice sounds disbelieving, when he goes on but he does go on. God knows if he'd be saying this any other day, but he's saying it now. After what Connor went through because of Hank, after what Connor's said, just now Hank can't not be honest.] Fuck, then maybe we can talk. I still don't understand why you'd even want to be friends with any version of me in the first place, but maybe we can talk. Just don't- I mean- Fuck, I don't know what I mean.

[He tries to run his hands over his face. The gesture is, of course, fuckin useless. He probably just ends up poking himself in the eye. He lowers his hands and taps a fingernail on the bottle, instead.]

Edited (skipped a couple words) 2018-09-26 01:12 (UTC)

[That should count as a positive reply, shouldn't it? As always, Connor has to filter through the chaff, the parts that sound dismissive of the point he's trying to make, but Hank's voice has lost some of its edge. Resentment falling by the wayside; still there, just dormant. Even if the apparent contempt for what he is still lingers.

"Talk." Talk is a step in the right direction. But Connor wants to clarify, hates uncertainty. Needs to know where he stands, if this is still just a path that might lead nowhere fast if the other is just obliging him.

(This is the same Hank, surely. He can't think of him as different, lack of experiences or no.)]

Do you want to be friends with me?

[Hank makes a face, muttering to himself.]

Feel like I'm in middle school.

[He takes a drink, partly to remind himself he's not and partly just because the closer he gets to falling asleep, the further he gets from this conversation. But after the drink, there's only so much he can do to put off answering.]

I...

Connor. Remember the first time I- [He wiggles his fingers.] -in your brain? What you, uh. Felt? I know you told me earlier what it was that got through, but I, uh. Think maybe we oughta go back to it. Some of it. You go back to it, and tell me if that doesn't clear shit up for you.

[The first time? He doesn’t even need to take time to think on it — he recalls it the way someone recalls a very recent, very vivid memory. Even if those experiences and feelings were not his own, he had gone over them in his head many, many times before just now.

Without hesitation, though a degree of enthusiasm lessens-]

You wanted to connect. But-

[This is the difficult part. The part that Connor isn’t sure (too afraid) to reconcile.]

Your expectations were... difficult to know what to do with.

Connect.

[He makes an unhappy, thoughtful noise, the artificial feel of the word - and its accuracy - uncomfortably clear to him.]

I expect you to act like an android, Connor. I don’t know what you mean when you say you want to be my- my friend, but I’m pretty sure real, human emotion has nothing to do with it.

Edited (Phone no) 2018-09-26 14:11 (UTC)

[And there it is, that hurdle he isn’t prepared to jump over. One that he can’t even walk around and avoid, because the chasm surrounding it is so vast. Connor can manage to say friendship, to imply that’s what he wants to gain from Hank once more — but he can’t confirm the interference of human emotion. That’s the equivalent of a neon sign hanging over his head, viciously blinking the word DEVIANT on repeat, and Connor simply can’t. He can’t.]

Maybe it would be better for you to not overanalyze it.

[Says the RK800, the over-analytical android who likes to be right, who likes to clarify and leave no stone unturned.]

It would be better for the both of us, in the end. Experiences are easier to process when you’re not alone in them.

I can’t believe you’re telling me that.

‘Don’t overanalyze it.’ Okay. [He follows that up with a drink. If ‘kill enough brain cells that you stop thinking about it’ isn’t what Connor meant, too bad. The hand holding the bottle pauses on its way down to point at Connor before his other hand has to come to its rescue and he sets the bottle carefully down.] There you go doing that shit again, too, don’t think I didn’t notice. ‘Better for both of us’. What could you have trouble processing here, as long as I keep my gross human bullshit out of your brain?

[He frowns at the bottle, then directs that look of dissatisfaction back to Hank.]

Despite my ability to adjust my priorities and to compartmentalize, you shouldn’t mistake me as being content to be swept away from Detroit and deposited literal universes — maybe dimensions — away.

[He doesn’t think this would apply just to him; any android torn from its purpose would agree, he’s sure.]

Everything here is foreign to me, as much as it is to you. Magic powers, people from fantastical and nonsensical worlds. Terms and places and names I’ve never heard of and have no frame of reference for. It can still be disorienting, if I try to do more than merely accept it as our new truth.

I was made to make sense of things, Hank. This setting goes against all that CyberLife could’ve hoped to prepare me for. Why do you think any of that would be easy to process?

[Hank watches him, frowning and focused, and once Connor’s done he looks away again, taking a couple seconds to think.]

The problem with being a copbot, huh?

[He drags a fingernail down the bottle, listening to it, and sucks at his teeth. Then he looks back up.]

Okay. Shit. Okay. So, how do you want to start this whole... whatever? What does a robot even want out of a... a friend? You need to sit here and bitch about all that weird bullshit, cause uh... kind of hard to imagine. Hard to imagine you needing anything.

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