[EVENT] The Simulation Ends

[sixthiteration]

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.]

Comments

[theluckygirl]

"Under the circumstances," Claire started, eyes looking him over for any visible injuries. Not many ever did have them, but if they did, it was from getting out of the fountain, not bringing it with them from wherever they were from. "It's good to meet you, Owen. I'm Claire."

She fixes the blanket atop his shoulders; the temperature outside making it a huge risk for hypothermia to set in if immediate action isn't taken. Claire knows what is in his bag, too, so after glancing over at the fountain and looking at the moose family she shakes her head.

"I wish I could tell you that, too. Like the way you arrived here today, that's how everyone you see here arrived. But this is our second time coming out of that fountain. The first time was in a place that looked almost exactly like this."

Still with her, Owen?

[underpinnings]

Up to a point: he could believe in the kind of world where people woke up in scrubs, no memory of how they got there, no signal as to why. Certain kinds of people thrived in the post-infection world; turning survival into a game, building safety out of control.

But why an overgrown park? Why the animals, why put these other people through it again, when they clearly remember the first time?

"How exactly are we talking," he asks, one hand taking up the edges of the blanket to hold it in place. Conditions would make this a better conversation had indoors, but he isn't so sure he wants to be closed in anywhere yet. Whatever hideous turn this is, at least he can see the sun again. "This is just--some abandoned park?"

[theluckygirl]

None of it made any sense to anyone; the few who had the talent were the ones who could pick things out quickly and decipher them into rational explanations. Like Watney. Only, even Claire could notice the differences almost immediately this time around, and the way most looked after their re-arrival suggested the last place was a dream, or simulation.

Giving the immediate area a cursory scan, Claire stopped where the canyon was. "The terrain changed. We have buildings in the settlement that have magically been restored and everyone one of us, except for you, looks like we stepped out of a hippie tour bus into a downpour."

Shaking her head she looked back to Owen. "Last place wasn't any kind of abandoned park. So, I'm pretty sure this place isn't either."

Motioning to the bag on his back, she added, "You'll find some dry clothes in the backpack. I suggest changing first. The inn has rooms over there, or you can use the clinic which is that building there."

After that, it would be easier to give him the full tour and what she's experienced since her own arrival.

[underpinnings]

It was harder to notice, if he didn't focus on the men in the crowd, but when she points it out he runs his two good fingers back through his hair. Nothing different about it, and the patches of hair feel normal enough along his jaw. If he could spontaneously grow a beard, now would be the moment--standing out in the middle of some upheaval is usually the precursor to getting blamed for said upheaval.

Getting out of his wet clothes, into some semblance of uniformed and ready, is his best option. If nothing else, it might be assumed he found time for a trim.

"Clinic," he decides, gaze flicking between the indicated buildings. Anyone there likelier to be distracted, and better supplies. If he couldn't get his hands on any, at least he'd have an idea for later--and some insight into the community. Two steps, three, he doesn't look to see if she follows as he tries to piece the rest of it together. Different terrain, buildings in better repair. "So it's a different place," he posits, any other concept beyond him.

[theluckygirl]

He may have looked fairly innocent enough, but given he was new and there were things in the clinic that could be stolen for whatever reason (drugs were limited to over the counter) Claire went along with him, if only to play the unofficial welcome committee. If he had any more questions, she could do her best to answer.

"Yeah, we're definitely not where we were. Not sure how, but it feels different." she tells him as they walk. "But we all came through and no one was left behind which are small blessings."

A beat.

"Mind me asking how you lost your fingers?" Claire asked, deciding it was a fair question and maybe one that would tell her if she needed to be suspicious.

[underpinnings]

The difference is more pronounced for Owen: ghost towns he rolled through were usually worse off. Tore up, carpet bombed, plant life growing over the shells of old buildings. Signs of fire, signs of fights. They could do worse than a layer of dust. They could do worse than a few cows to greet them.

If there isn't something waited beyond the immediate buildings. It's a little early in her acquaintance to ask Claire where the village might store weapons, but he might work it out while answering her own questions. For now, he keeps his eyes on a swivel, assessing shadows, movement, placing people behind them and looking for anyone ahead. No canyon might mean something getting in, as much as it means getting out.

And her question is especially fair, where he's from, so there's only an answering beat before his reply. "Got shut in a door, years ago. Nobody around to fix it." Best he could do to cut the rest and burn the ends, and that had been it's own set of problems.

"I do alright," he assures her. "Don't need a pinky for most tools or weapons."

[theluckygirl]

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.