sixthiterationlogs | [EVENT] The Simulation Ends

[EVENT] The Simulation Ends

WHERE: 6I Fountain Park & Elsewhere
WHEN: April 1
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
WARNINGS: N/A

In the snug circle of an old park, a fountain sits burbling beneath a broad, midday sky.

Once-neat paving stones have buckled and cracked from the slow nudge of wayward roots. Benches stand covered in lichen and rust. Three paths push into the underbrush like the spokes on a wheel, the encroaching forest creating lush tunnels through the dark.

But the fountain stands singular and pristine, brightly splashing in open rebellion of the deep, muffled sounds of a place long ago gone to seed. A vibration hums through the ground, there and quickly gone, and the water in the fountain trembles, lapping against the high walls of its cool, pale reservoir.

Far, far away, in a place that isn't really there, people begin to blink out of existance.

It is the first of April.

It is precisely ten o'clock in the morning.

[Please see event details and guidelines here.]

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"After a while, we would have begun to notice... discrepancies, if it had been turned off, briefly. Even if only in something as simple as the relative lengths of our hair."

And between his beard and the way that her hair has grown out, it's clear enough in his mind that they have been stuck in the simulation for some time. And possibly not even physically there, besides, although the question of where they might have been otherwise is another matter entirely. Another question to put to the Observers, no doubt, assuming they ever do manage to meet them. But for the time being there are more important matters at hand.

"If it were paused, though... we might not have noticed at all. Not if we were inside it at the time."

Not if they'd ended up paused too.

"I assumed you'd already done that," I shoot back, pulling the pad forward across the table. A deep breath in and then sighed out. This could be worse. So much worse. At least, that we're aware of.

"We're not on Mars," I sound out as I write the words across the top of the pad, a sort of directive to keep my shit together. Now: Everything else on the to-do list.

"We need to get over to the Inn sooner rather than later, before everybody scatters again. But we need to know what we intend to do there first. What we need to know to actually start properly assessing how deep we're in the shit. Dietary needs we've already said." I write it onto the paper. "Physical changes— You know, we really should start thinking about having some kind of accountability system in place for when people go off exploring. Like when you register with the park service before heading out camping; when you're going, when you expect to be back. You know these people. Some of them will be out tomorrow. Hell, some of them might be out there tonight."

"I've been busy." A little more effective than screaming, but he'd still like to block out the time. Somewhere after managing Bodhi's own need to scream and unwillingness to do so, if the boy-toy across the way doesn't take care of it. Probably not, Kira's about eighty percent sure the entire relationship is predicated on being human disasters who don't express actual emotion.

Pot, kettles; even the Observers know black is his color.

"Small miracles," he agrees. "There's air, yes." He takes a nice, long breath of it, and blusters it out. There's only so much hair he can take off of Mark's head to make himself feel better, before he'll hate to look at the man, so he moves around the chair to finish off the hairline and call it quits. "Close your eyes for a second," he says.

"Maybe we can impress upon them the implication of Nerys being an alien," he adds. "It's not Mars, but it might not be anywhere on Earth, either. Not if it's at all real this time around."

If slim pickings can mean the entirety of a thrift store sale bin, then Kira would agree--he doesn't love the choice being between jeans, jeans, and worn out scrubs. There are some cut-off shorts that have and will see better days come warmer weather, but for now he's just glad there's something to change into.

"Try the overalls," he offers, pointing to the denim hung over the simple bar. "They're kind of one-size-fits-all. Should be some thermal shirts too, if you want something warm."

There's one piece he's really looking for, though. One thing he doesn't want to ever lose. Three things, if you want to delve into the pockets--Ty's old parka shouldn't be in the closet, and he leaves Nerys to her selection as he heads for the bed. Instead of wadded up in the space next to the pillow, it's folded nicely, that same layer of dust over the olive green fabric. Kira puts a hand on it--still not sure how it fits in the narrative of this place, still not sure if it can really be the same coat, but not really caring at the end of the day. It's a piece of home, and when he lays it across the sheets and digs in the pockets, the polaroid of Chiyo and his cards are still there.

"I think everything made it," he says, quieter than before.

Subtlety is more fun when the world isn't ending--or beginning, as he suspects. Why not begin it with some old coping mechanisms and a promise of completely irresponsible behavior, after they've made sure everyone is alive and accounted for?

They're still out in the open--hardly the only pair running hands over arms and hair, assessing. Maybe the only pair so obviously flirting in the wake of disaster, but whatever puts a smile on their faces. Whatever makes this okay for seconds at a time. Difference is, there's no real claim in it. He's hers for an evening or morning at a time, when she'll have him, and he's glad of it.

This shit is already complicated enough. It is entirely simple when he turns his head, kissing her palm as it passes back out of his hair. "Maybe you should come around later, after I've tallied everyone up and figured out if I can still loan you something to wear in the morning."

"A little of column A, a little of column C," he answers, managing a shrug. "I'm not ready to fall over or anything, it's just--you know when you sleep too much? Or you've been sick for awhile, and you just start getting back to your life?"

Crawling out of the fountain had been harder than the first time, and not because of the cold. There's a general ache, like it's the first activity he's had in ages. Not that he'd been in the greatest shape, but he'd been making hikes with Mark and Karen before this. "Probably related to all of this," he adds, gesturing to the new length of hair framing his face.

It's more that, while Kira isn't a large guy, he's still male-shaped, and most of the clothes seem to fit that mold. Fortunately, the overalls seem to have potential, now that he's pointed them out, and Nerys holds up a pair to her--though not too close, she doesn't want to get them damp--to check size. She follows it up with one of the flannel shirts hanging nearby, which looks like it'll cover her chest all right.

"That works. Thanks," she says, and she's distracted enough to not notice immediately that he's turned away, but looks over her shoulder a moment or two later. "You mean, all your stuff?" she asks. The scrubs have got her worried that most of her things will be gone. Admittedly, she hasn't ever had a box like some of the others, but she's accumulated plenty over the past couple of years.

His company made this place tolerable, so she was fine with being openly flirtatious and just a tiny bit affectionate towards Kira. This casual thing they had going on is exactly what she needs, and wants to continue.

The kiss to her palm draws a smile from Bela before she nods. "I will come around later, make a night of it. And a morning of course." Not forgetting that. "The sweater you gave me before was nice, but I think I'll need something more weather appropriate."

Bela knows how important his role was in the village, taking a stock of people and the inventory that they had; she didn't want to hold Kira back from it.

"Do you need help or are you okay?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," Beverly agrees, gesturing at her own mottled mess of hair. Who knows how long they've really been sitting around or why? There's no telling what their bodies have really been doing while their minds were hooked up somewhere else.

Of course, there's no telling if they're even really awake right now.

"Try to take it slowly for now, eat as well as possible, and I'll see what I can find to help our diets."

They don't exactly have the best nutrition available, but if they at least try to keep eating as well as possible, that will also help. And she'll just have to spend a little more time in her garden to help make up the rest of it.

"Earth seems unlikely, or at least the versions we know, but it's not impossible," I say, eyes obediently if impatiently closed; I've been doing a pretty damn good job of sitting still this entire time, and I'm really ready to be done with with my visit to the salon.

"Just in the sense of it seeming counter-intuitive to what we've already experienced," I add, brushing away tiny bits of hair from my cheeks and nose and eyelashes when I feel Kira finally step away. "And trust me when I say I'm not crazy about the idea. But you're right. Logic follows that if we were in a simulation the first time, we could be right back in another one. A more advanced one." We passed the fucking test, whatever it was. Whoopie.

"And gathering the data to try and figure out if it's at least an Earth-like simulation if not actually Earth is high on the priority list. I have to assume everybody here is wanting answers. But accounting for everyone and any changes in the people has to be the first thing."

The idea of having help with triage is almost a relief to her and she nods fervently. "That would be a huge help," she admits wryly. "I think there are more medical people here, but just having someone else to help check on people and make sure no one needs any extra medical attention would be a lot of help."

Even if he just sticks around to find out if anyone has any aches or pains and shoves them in her direction would help.

The relative lengths of their hair would have been noticeable, especially given the two-toned look to hers. She nods in response, relenting that point to him. The idea of being paused, though, is also a good point, even as it makes her sigh wearily again.

"And they could have easily changed our models to match whatever's been happening to our actual bodies so that when we pulled ourselves out of the fountain just now we think we're out of the simulation, but in reality we're still in," she huffs out with a tone of frustration as she finally pulls open the door to the house and lets them both in. "It's enough to give you a headache."

"I would like to hope that they wouldn't have gone to the trouble of simply arranging another simulation, just for the sake of making us believe we'd left. Not when they could just have easily reset the initial simulation."

Whether or not that means they've actually left is still another question entirely, yes. But he'd certainly like to believe that the Observers wouldn't have gone so far, and that the reality that they're standing in is genuine. It might be hard to prove, unfortunately. But that doesn't mean that there's something about the idea that feels right.

"But I agree. It is enough to give someone a headache."

"I would hope not, too, but it's something to consider," she points out. "We shouldn't blindly assume anything, not where these 'Observers' are concerned."

Not when too much of what they've been through reminds her of Q or a bunch of Cardassians trying to break them. There are too many possibilities and she doesn't want to risk anything.

"I guess we'll have plenty of time to decide if we believe it or not. Come on. Let's get you dry and warm. I'll feel better when there's not as much of a risk of you catching cold out there."

And she might be willing to pick up on that relieved kiss from earlier once they're both a little more dry and warm.

Claire gives him a smile and a laugh. For some reason, there's some relief in knowing that. Even despite the fact that this place, if it's anything like the last place (which it is but in a weirdly different kind of way) then nothing is certain.

Her smile fades a little and she looks away briefly before bringing her eyes back.

"Careful, I'm going to hold you to that."

Nobody around to fix it. Didn't sound particularly happy, not with the way he said it or the tone he said it with. Pair that with the way he was looking around and if Claire had to guess, the guy's world before emerging from the fountain and stepping into this one didn't seem to be all that friendly.

As a nurse, she's heard plenty of stories about how people lose fingers and toes, but she can't help but flinch a little over hearing how Owen lost his. But she says nothing because one would be surprised how often it happens. Especially around the 4th of July.

Coming up to the clinic doors, she gives a small shrug. "Which you'll be using here, too. Only not against people."

Being there involved a different kind of survival.

Kate glares at her with all the bedraggled, wounded dignity of a cat fished out of a water trough, but it isn't personal. It's as personal as her foot-stamp, as her shouting, which is to say: it's all directed at their captors.

Well.

Maybe a little bit of it is at Miss Gibson, and the need to be sensible and pragmatic.

"No, I am not," she says, finally. "You look at be about the same, is that so, Detective Gibson?"

(It could be progress, her using the woman's title. Or it could simply by that, grudgingly, she accepts that a policewoman may be useful in cases of kidnapping - which is also progress.

It's progress.)

Frankly, it's always been Stella's (somewhat self-appointed) job to stay collected while everyone else around her is falling apart, and that hasn't changed now. She ignores the glare; she's dealt with considerably more hostility than that in the past, and she knows it's not aimed at her, not really. Mostly.

"I'm fine," she says, which is true this time, at least as far as it goes. Physically, she feels fine — better the more she moves about, actually, as if she's woken up from a deep sleep and just needs to stretch her muscles. She's not yet entirely aware there might actually be something to that.

She looks around them, recognizing there aren't many other people here at the moment — she doesn't see Peggy, at least not right now, but that doesn't mean she's not here somewhere. "They must be taking us in groups, a few at a time," she deduces aloud. Three at a time, maybe — she saw Felicity Smoak, too, just now. Which means the rest of the villagers may well be arriving after them, and it isn't time to panic just yet over who's missing.

"Is this the real village, do you think? Where do you suppose we were just now?"

Stella does not really expect Kate to have real answers to those questions. A long while back, she had a theory the observers were drugging them, that some or all of their experiences were hallucinated, that what they thought they were seeing and doing and what was really happening were two different things. Her mind hasn't made the leap to simulation just yet, and right now that's probably a good thing. The idea that they were being manipulated with hallucinogens is something she can at least comprehend.

Steve shrugged. "Everyone was in scrubs back at the fountain... Danny's were the same color as before." But, Steve didn't know if everyone had a different color now. "I miss the green!"

When Mary held up her wrist, Steve frowned and leaned closer, then examined the one on his wrist. As much as it looked like a watch, he expected there was more to it than that. Especially when he couldn't remove it. "At least it's not around our necks."

"You're hair looks good long, but I won't be keeping this beard any longer than hI have to." Glaring at Mary he tried not to rise to the bait of her telling him that he was now wearing pink. Not that there was any problem with a guy wearing pink but it wasn't something he generally did. Besides, these weren't pink. They were clearly a purply color.

"I was there for a long time after you left. Then Danny left and it was another long wait before I turned up here too." Part of him wanted to get back to Danny and the others, but looking in the direction of the house, they were already more than half way there. And, it would be good intel to have. "Why don't we go check it out and then we can report back to the others?"

Reaching over to Mary, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close before starting to walk. "I'm happy I'm stuck here with you too, Mary. I wish we were all back home, but since we're not..." He leaned in and kissed her temple, giving her a squeeze at the same time.

"We absolutely shouldn't," he agrees with a nod. "Much less let ourselves believe that we have a complete understanding of what they might be up to."

He won't deny that assuming them to be at least loosely similar to Q has helped explain a great deal. But at the same time, he's not going to deny the possibility that something might break even that pattern, sooner or later. It's just that he's not going to spend forever waiting for that shift either. If it happens, it happens, and besides, he has a sneaking suspicion that dwelling too long on the nature of the Observers and their decisions is to invite madness.

Plus, there are far more interesting - if more mundane - things to turn his mind to just at the moment. Even if it is nothing more than the prospect of spending some time cuddled up with her.

"Of course," he answers with a nod, as he turns towards their house. If she wants to take point, he'll gladly let her, but if not, he's just as glad to walk at her side as well.

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[EVENT] The Simulation Ends

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