station72 | [MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: The Station + Concordia
WHEN: Day :000 - ???
SUMMARY: Leaving the Station; the arrival and first days on Concordia. Concordia pt.1.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

IT'S EARLY IN THE DAY and something feels strange. It’s not unlike when a new Host - not one of your brood, but close enough to feel the tug - comes awake on the Nesting Deck. But it’s just the initial tug. There’s no noise, no hum of confusion or volume. Today, it’s just there: a sensation of presence that a moment ago wasn’t. Soon after follows a prickling awareness of urgency. A small electric bolt through the mind. Cathaway doesn’t use words in the mind, but her meaning is nonetheless easily understood: come to her on the hangar; your presence is required.

On the hangar there is a sleek, low profile transport ship. Before it stand Cathaway and Prince and in their company is a stranger: a short woman with warm skin and dark hair, wearing unfamiliar colorful clothes and a quick, pleasant smile. You’ve never seen her before, but you know she’s a Host.

“This is them?” Her voice is light and sweet. Prince, occupied by a databank, glances up at her then nods once. There’s a tension in his shoulder and through his jaw - a distinct contrast to Cathaway and the stranger who lack both.

“Lovely.” Her tone is breezy and easy, delighted. “Hello, it is so nice to meet you all! My name is Carata. My partner and I have been away on duty for a few months, but it’s become clear that we need backup on our assignment. We are hoping you can help.” Carata motions to the mission equipment in neat kits at her feet. There is one for each young Host.

Prince folds his pad down into its smallest form. His expression is set and serious.

“You will be joining Carata and Nirad on the planet below to assist them with their mission. Your datapbank will provide you with information about the planet and the city where you will be stationed. This mission is covert and the planet itself has no contact with other planetary races, so you will need to do your utmost to blend in.”

Cathaway sharpens slowly beside them: a dull pencil being sharpened to a point as her attention curves back to this place, this instance. She unfolds her hands. “You’ll be provided with an earpiece that should allow you to interface with the local technology and a fake identity for your cover on world. Please mind both carefully and be sure to keep your databanks offline. It would be inconvenient if they were networked while on planet.” From the way she says it, it sounds like ‘inconvenient’ might be an understatement. “This mission shouldn’t be inherently life threatening. Your primary goal is to investigate the anti-android movement. Carata and Nirad will be able to tell you what your databanks do not.”

“You should listen to them,” Prince adds. “Rely on their experience and knowledge to help you succeed in your task. Be mindful, and treat them with the respect they have earned.”

At this Carata laughs. It’s a bright, joyful sound, her hands coming up to clasp in front of her chest, “Please, teacher, you are too serious. I am sure they will do very well. Come along then! Gather your things; we must leave as soon as possible. I do hate to leave Nirad alone for too long.”

Turning her back to the Hosts, Carata takes Cathaway’s hand for a moment Nothing is said, but there’s the distinct impression of something passing between them. They release their grip, then Carata turns to Prince. She places her hands on his shoulders and goes up to her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t return the gesture, but those with sharp eyes will note he does lean down slightly to make her job easier.

Gather your gear, get anything from your rooms you might not want to leave behind. In two hours, everyone attending the mission will be buckled or strapped into the transport as Carata readies the ship for takeoff. She explains, neatly and concisely, what they believe the enemy to be doing in Concordia. Then, with a turning of the deck, the ship is freed from the embrace of Station 72.

It will be a long time before you see this place again.

     I. THE WHEELS ON THE BUS
The flight to Concordia is surprisingly short. By the time Carata's finished her explanation, you've passed into a new universe. It comes with a strange wave of something akin to nausea. Outside the transport's starboard viewports lays Opia in all it's glory: a beautiful blue marble speckled with sixteen landmasses and swathed in thing clouds like spun sugar. From this distance, clusters of light burn from specific points on the continents like a map of grounded constellations. As one of the great megacities of Opia comes curling from around the edge of the planet, the transport ship begins to descend.

Atmospheric entry is smooth. The transport drops at the outskirts of Concordia on what is, hilariously, some kind of large parking garage. It has engaged the most sophisticated of its cloaking technology to do this and Carata urged everyone to disembark quickly so the ship can return to orbiting the planet before it's detected.

"It will be back," she says flippantly. "When we've finished our job."

The ship departs. It's quiet and still for a handful of minutes; Carata seems unconcerned and gives little in the way of direction or instruction. The city flashes around them - bright lights and neon masking the fading of natural light - and nearby, a roadway hums. Eventually the sound of a car pitches louder. A set of headlamps shear from the long line of cars and in moments a long, squarish transport van pulls up and parks at the top of the garage. The side door slides open to admit everyone. In the driver's seat is an android - shining metal and cheerful as it greets every host by name. Beside the android in the van's passenger seat sits a tall, dark skinned man who - much like Carata - is obviously a host.

Welcome to Concordia.

     II. HOME SWEET HOME
It's a long drive into the city. The buildings get taller, the lights get brighter, the streets get busier. There are throngs of people on the street, dogged by endless rows of neon bright advertisements. Traffic is either miserable or flowing depending on the neighborhood and trams run on tracks fifty feet or more above the roadways. Streams of people files from the pavement to the subways, countless numbers of escalators leading down.

When the bus finally stops, it's in front of a building as tall as any others. The signs here mark this section of the city as BETA BLOCK and when you get out and into the building lobby you find that the door opens for you automatically. A chime rings through the interfacing ear piece and when you enter the elevators, the only floor accessible to you is NUMBER EIGHTEEN. When you disembark, a kind voice welcomes you by home in your ear. There are a large number of rooms here in Bearing - stake your claim, everyone! Nirad and Carata already have a couple of rooms in the Southwest corner of the building, but the rest are open. Time to settle in!

     III. FEET ON THE GROUND
You're given the rest of the night to sleep (or...whatever), but by 9AM the next morning everyone is awoken by Carata's voice in their head. She's clearly not shy of using her symbiotic connection.

( Good morning! I know this is quite a lot to get used to. I believe this is your first true assignment? But I have always believed that the best way to learn something new is to jump right in. ) The words are accompanied by the sensation of someone clapping their hands together, a cheerful kind of practicality. ( You’ve been given a credit card. I encourage you to go out today and learn what you can about this place. Talk to people. Listen to the news. Be sure to remember your cover identity, and don’t hesitate to call if you find yourself in trouble. )

There is nothing pressing to the suggestion, just the sensation- light. Airy. Fun. She switches track after a moment, a thoughtful addition: ( There is also a rally in town today. It’s being run by The True Children of Opia, some minor little hate group-- ) She seems to wave off the unsavory aspects as she forges ahead, ( They aren’t affiliated with Humans + Humans 1st, but they do have very similar ideologies and it is quite probable that there is overlap in their membership. If you would rather, it is also quite likely that there will be protestors there as well, both members of Mind Life and those who are adamant about pursuing digital resurrection. Please do be careful, though, sometimes those rallies can be a little... ) An image of an oily substance catching flame, quickly and hotly.

( Whatever you chose, simply do your best to get your bearings. ) She seems to realize the unintended joke there, given the name of their current residence, and a bright happy flash of color accompanies it. What a delightful surprise. ( Prepare yourself for what is to come. Nirad and I will continue our investigation in the meantime. )

((OOC Notes: This is the catchall log for the first stages of the Concordia mission. You'll notice there's no set ending date, so use this log however you like - alternatively, feel free to start your own logs in the setting! Don't worry; we'll be keeping a close eye on things, so if something big starts to happen that necessitates a new long, we'll make sure to keep our bases covered and all of y'all updated. Just be aware that dating forward farther than :010 may get a little dicey.

If you have any mission specific questions, direct them to the OOC post here.))

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[ She flushes slightly, aware that she still hadn't quite followed the script for the 'favorite color' question. ]

Yes. I... Yes. Whatever you see fit.

[ Like she's taking this all way too seriously still, she doesn't quite grasp that this is all shits and giggles. ]

...Right.

[ He grimaces a little, the awkwardness in the room practically palpable. ]

I mean. It's not actually that serious. Are you always so... [ He can't think of a word that doesn't sound like an insult, so in lieu of a fitting adjective, he gestures to her. ] This?

No. [ Well. She tended to stick to her brood, they had the benefit of being tied deeply to her, an empathy that made her more tolerable to them, and her more relaxed in kind. ] Yes.

I am not used to such... [ Wow. What even is the word she wants, she searches for it helplessly for a moment. ] Casual conversation.

[ Easy conversation, light-hearted conversation. ]

Sam is the only member of my brood like you.

[ And... well. He knew what she was like. ]

[ Rhys makes a face, scrunching up his nose and wrinkling his brow. ]

Like... me?

[ Sounding it out, he points to himself, like he's asking "this me?" It's so vague; he's many things — lots of them unpleasant — and she's odd enough that it seems like it could mean anything. ]

Uh, what is that supposed to mean, exactly?

[ Now that is... a difficult question to answer. Ilde fiddles with the ends of her hair between her fingers. ]

Glib, animated, sarcastic, high-spirited. You speak quickly and colorfully. Rudely, by my standards, but...

[ Well, they weren't in her world any longer, that's what. So she shifts a shrug. ]

I will learn.

[ She'll have to. Concordia is a world full of people like this, fast-talking and overflowing with unfamiliar idioms and euphemism, with their own social scripts, expected flows for small talk and introduction... ]

Wh— you think I'm rude?

[ That's the only thing he really gleaned from her words. He frowns, eyes going wide, like he feels betrayed. ]

What do you mean rude, I'm not rude, what part of that was rude? [ A pause. His frown deepens. ] And now 'rude' doesn't even sound like a real word anymore, I've said it so much. ...Anyway, I was gonna make my walls purple for you. I don't even like purple that much!

[ A look of surprise crosses her face. How did we get here. Who is driving this car. ]

Does it... really matter?

[ This is the only question she can even think of in response to the majority of the things he's said to her this entire conversation. ]

[ He stares at her blankly. Does it matter? What people think of you is only the most important thing in the world, jeez. ]

Ye...s...? What kind of question is that? I mean, what would you think if I just walked up to you and was like, "Oh, hey, you're a... stupid dickface"? Obviously, I escalated the situation a bit for dramatic effect, but you get my point.

[ No, she really doesn't get his point at all and she's staring at him in utter confusion. She doesn't care what anyone thinks of her, except maybe her broodmates, and even then...... ]

You haven't done anything wrong. [ She decides that is the easiest route to take. ] It is merely different from what I know.

So... that's a no, you wouldn't care.

[ She didn't actually answer the question, after all. She reminds him terribly of Lexa, although not quite as irritating. Practically from a different species. He still isn't entirely convinced Lexa isn't a very realistic robot mimicking humanity, and now he's a bit suspicious of Ilde as well. Reputation is important to him, and feeling liked even more so. It's difficult to imagine someone who genuinely doesn't care what anyone thinks about them and isn't just pretending. ]

What do you care about?

[ That is such a question, and it stings a little bit. She clung to her garden because she has nothing else to care about, and every time they are sent down to a planet she is taken away from the one on the Station. Even then... hard to call it hers, although she will and with vehemence. She cares about her broodmates, and she cares... she cares about cultivating power and control in her life. But that is not something she is comfortable announcing to this boy. ]

That is a very broad question.

Edited 2016-06-21 18:58 (UTC)

Is it, though?

[ Yes, it is. And he feels a little bad about it, but at the same time, she's so weird. Maybe it's easier for her broodmates to relate to her, but he's having trouble. She seems— nice (..ish?) aside from the whole 'rude' comment, so he he tries not to look too weirded out. Only, like, 75 percent weirded out. ]

I mean, I think I could probably name at least five things I have varying levels of feelings about right now.

You first, then.

[ Maybe once she understood better what kind of answer he was expecting, she could give one? ]

Well, that's— you're putting me on the spot here, I mean...

[ Mmmmmm, the smell of hypocrisy in the morning. He makes a few vague, uncomfortable hand motions accompanied by noncommittal noises as he thinks. ]

I have feelings about everything... like, every day. All the time. Uh, I'm counting that as one. I have feelings about you insulting me! That's two, and don't say you didn't insult me, it counts. Uh... three, I have bad feelings about the whole hivemind business. Four, I care about how I'm probably gonna get hate-crimed at some point here. And five, uh...

[ He trails off. ]

I care about my hair.

I see...

[ A mixture of frivolous and serious concerns. Unfortunately, she does not entirely feel comfortable voicing what truly worries her, and she is not given much to frivolity. ]

I care about my brood and my gardening. They are what matter the most, day to day. [ A slight frown, feeling like maybe this is not a fair exchange to what he had confessed. ] I care about... cultivating power and control in my life.

Oh.

[ He feels sort of bad, like he maybe made her go too far in the other direction, made her share too much. But then again, maybe not everyone is constantly faking it all the time like he is. Maybe honesty comes more naturally to her. Either way, he sidesteps it entirely, asking, ] Soooooo, what's this garden I'm hearing about?

[ It is true, honesty is important to her. Honesty was a tactic of survival from her experiences. The Godking had feared deceivers, his paranoia made him unpredictable and violent. Her bluntness is synonymous to virtuous in the world that she knows, and to not fall prey to the same evils she had seen the Godking torture out of those he caught... it was very important.]

That was my task, before I joined the Nest. I was gardener to the Godking. I have been tending to the Station's gardens. It is... lonely, being away from them.

Godking. That's... kind of overkill. It's like calling yourself Master McAwesomecool.

[ She probably doesn't find it funny, he realizes. Although he wonders if she ever laughs at all, about anything. ]

Um. Anyway. That's nice. Do you have other hobbies, or... is that pretty much it?

[ Hob... bies... ]

There was not much... leisure, in His world. I was very lucky to have the garden.

[ So. Yeah, that was pretty much it, although she adds hesitantly, ]

I also enjoy poetry; lyricism.

Can't... really help you with that one, um. Don't really have a way with words.

[ He'd have said otherwise in other circumstances, had some more of that "fake it 'til you make it" confidence, but he figures he might as well try some honesty, too. Even if it's small and stupid. ]

Who— you said His world. Isn't it just, I don't know, the world?

[ Ah, this story. Sometimes she thinks she should conceal this more, it makes others uncomfortable, but in a way that's all the more reason she can't even lie by omission. Her world and all its suffering made her who she was. How can she hide from that? ]

He touched every corner of it. Nothing rivaled him. Who else would it belong to?

[ He pauses, wrinkles his brow. ]

So, is he, like, an actual person or more of an... uh, abstract concept? I'm just trying to figure out what we're working with, here.

He began as a very powerful man.

[ She smooths out her skirt, looking at nothing. ]

But his power eventually exceeded his mortality... He was both. I saw what was left of his humanity, at times, but more often he was rage and death and fear. Fire.

[ He scoffs incredulously. ]

I can't believe I'm saying this, but. I get it?

[ Oh. Uhm. She looks surprised. No one ever says that to her when she explains this... No one ever understands. ]

You... you do?

[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

wow sorry I lost this tag

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