[MISSION LOG] BRAVE NEW WORLD

[onemind]

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.))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[decommission]

[ At mention of their clothes his hand picks idly at his shirt. Not that he's ever paid much attention to his wardrobe other than to make sure everything was clean and in one piece, but he wouldn't exactly mind ditching the jumpsuits for a little while either.

Another glance at Daniel, this time with a hint of sympathy: ] Right - biochauvenists. That's a mouthful.

[ At that he nods toward the direction of the elevators, starting to head that way. ]

[frakkincylons]

Right. I've just been saying 'assholes'. It's easier. [ is he bitter? naaaah.

with steve's nod, sam shuffles the little droid over to his room, asking him to stay put there while he's gone, and takes up all he needs to head out, meeting steve over at the elevator once he's ready.

when the doors slide open, sam paces in, leaning his back against the far wall after hitting the button for the ground floor. ]

Anywhere else you wanna check out while we're in the city?

[decommission]

[ Sam has a connection to this kind of tech, different than the way Anakin does. Stronger, more personal. He shakes his head at the question - ]

Just wanna make sure I can walk around without looking too much like a tourist. [ Straining his neck and all that. It's a lot to take in, the familiar mixed with everything so completely... not.

He stands in the corner opposite the buttons, watching the numbers tick down. ] You know, their methods aren't right - but I'm not sure about the Memory Banks.

[ All that data, gathered from every single person. ]

[frakkincylons]

Fair enough. I'm still having a little of that myself. [ advanced as the Twelve Colonies and even original Earth was, they didn't quite go in this direction. the entire world hadn't been digital, and while their were certainly some aspects of it, it's not quite the same. too flashy.

it'll help them to walk around some, get used to seeing things. train out that surprised kind of staring.

a pause settles in sam, once steve talks, nodding a moment, as he thinks of it. he isn't kneejerk defensive about, for a couple reasons - steve has a good head on his shoulders, he's from a place that didn't even have standard computers, and sam's not sure he's totally on board with the memory banks either. ]

Who, the assholes? [ there's nothing in him that wasn't to sympathize, though he does, in some aspects. ] The Memory Banks... it can be dangerous. You dump all that in one place someone in the right position can get to, maybe start changing stuff around, it's just not safe.

The idea of wanting to extend life is... I dunno, make sense for something like medicine, but for functional immortality? [ The Centurions felt it was part of their being, and that was one thing. John had wanted to be more machine than human. But Sam can't find life to be some impacting without an end point. Part of what disturbs him so much about the prospect of living with the Nest potentially forever, should the technology be found. ] It'll be a problem. There'll be disagreements, but that's needed too. They'll have to find their footing on it.

[ he says it like he knows it. there's just too much about this place that rings true to what he's seen. sam's honestly kind of wonders if steve's aware of what he is. some picked it up easily, like ilde and ren. anakin had to be told. he's still not sure if jessica knew. ]

[decommission]

[ ELEVEN, TEN, NINE the elevator moves down the floors. He tries to gather his thoughts. ] It all just seems... stagnant, I guess.

[ Not at all like progress. Steve's never been a big believer of suffering as a necessary part of life - it's just a thing people say when they don't have a better answer for why bad things happen to people who don't deserve it.

A digital afterlife or unbreakable bodies seem to promise an end to hunger and illness, but then there's Sam's other point - how do you trust that you're you if you're existence depends on information that can be altered.

He shakes his head. ] They working toward this singularity where you're from?

[ Steve isn't as open as Ren and Ilde, he doesn't often catch stray flashes or invite them - the most he got were those bits and pieces from when Steve walked through their brood. That information came to him in such a jumbled mess he still hadn't sorted it out (hadn't wanted to). ]

[frakkincylons]

Eternal life? Yeah. It is. [ what's the point, when nothing ends? when nothing changes? when you have nothing to fear or hope for or work towards. there's observation, perhaps. become witness to the endlessness of time and the universe. but the universe isn't meant to be recorded and remembered forever. it isn't one, continuous story. the multiverse itself proves that.

hardcore existentialism in place of elevator music, aw yis. sam shifts some, tilting himself to face steve, and as he talks, he makes some excited gestures with his hands - something he's obviously thought on before. ] Yeah. They worked towards it. They succeeded too.

[ and now he's sure Steve doesn't know what he is. there's a moment of concern there, and a certainty that telling him will mean steve never looks at him the same again. hell, sam can't even look at himself the same again, since that day on the Galactica. instead of immediately correcting it, he goes on about the topic, as they pass floors seven, six and five. ]

But singularity isn't 'making humans immortal' it's 'creating life'. A new way of creating life, one that's inevitable, in any cycle, the immortality part is just the greed people see in it. The entire universe, any part of it, is based on creation, and humans are a part of that. [ another element like anything else, and they disperse and merge into something else just the same. but it always takes a while to understand what it is you just created. especially with life. times when he's rambling like this, he thinks back to sitting with Kara in the Galactica medbay, while he'd been shooting out technical terms and medical jargon he shouldn't have known, and the human side of him remembers Kara staring at him like he'd gone nuts, sympathizing with her some when he hears what's coming out of his mouth, suddenly. it is what it is, more on what he's actually meaning here - ] Technological singularity is a point where... a man-made consciousness is identical to organic life's. It's the point where you're not sure if you can call a machine a machine and a human and a human.

[ in terms of looking at their existences, their minds. and at some point in the future that Hera will bring, it'll become indistinguishable. perhaps that's the true singularity of his universe. but he knows what he is, what saul and galen and tori and ellen were. what caprica and athena and boomer were. they'd broken set coding, all of them. in that moment, they weren't programs. trying to enforcing something similar on them would've been lobotomizing, not reprogramming. ]

Steve... do you know what I am?

[decommission]

[ The man in the glass. The image had come to him when he'd walked through the Brood, an exhibit at the Expo. Not a working copy, but an idea of what could be - synthetic life. For him, at the time, it was all still far in the realm of science fiction: primary colors on newsprint, the bright black and white of a screen, the voice of a narrator.

The world he comes from can't yet fathom something so indistinguishable, only monsters and cautionary tales. Even Stark's man in the glass had looked like a mannequin out of a Macy's display.

His eyebrows raise, mouth forming a silent oh for a second. ] You're... both?

[ No, he hadn't guessed before. His eyebrows are quick to knit together, piecing back their time on the Station for physical proof he'd missed that Sam was something other than human - coming up blank. ]

[frakkincylons]

I'm...

[ Both? no, not really. Not like how Hera is both, and how the new Earth will be made so indistinguishable that people forget what was human and what was human made. That's the point of it, after all.

What he is... hell, not even Sam's really sure what he is most days. What to define it as. ] I was biologically born with an organic body to two organic Cylon parents. Cylons were the race of artificial intelligence created by man, in my universe.

[ it feels like he's making a lot of disclaimers there for but i'm basically almost human, and part of Sam feels a little lame for that. But after being on the other side of looking at human shaped Cylons, he knows how hard it is to make AI come to terms with Life in a human mind. ] For about ten years, I was convinced I was just normal human. Got some memories back, and turns out, not so much. But--

[ holding up his left arm, there's been a bandage wrapped over the heel of his palm and wrist for just about every day since the night he'd told the others in his brood to close off from him. the cut that he's been reopening every time he needs to plug in, for the past few weeks. probably not the greatest, or most healthy way, but he's at least been obsessive with antiseptic. unraveling the bandage, he's showing steve the cut there, and the scabbed blood that's attempting to heal over it now. ]

I breathe, I bleed, I eat, I sleep. Fear, joy, anxiety, love. I know all that. I was a captain of a pro sports team, and I had a wife, and I had friends.

[ "the point where you're not sure if you can call a machine a machine and a human and a human." it's something he thinks about every day, now. ]

[decommission]

[ Steve takes the explanation in thoughtful silence. The bond between them means he doesn't doubt that any of what Sam's saying is the truth, there's nothing inhuman about the thoughts and emotional discharge he's felt coming from him (barring the fact that, you know, people aren't normally able to do that to begin with, but that's not an oddity particular to Sam in this case).

He stares at the cut on Sam's forearm, the dark scabbing from dried blood. Basically human. He's not sure how robots can procreate, if it's all organic - well, asking seems kind of forward. Still, the way he describes it Sam was born an individual, he has free will and experiences life as anyone else could hope to.

Something to think about in this city. It doesn't much change the way Steve looks at Sam at this point.

The elevator numbers tick down to the lobby floor, doors opening in front of them. A couple stands outside, waiting for them to exit. Steve steps out first to let them by, shoving his hands in his pockets. When they're far away enough from prying ears he glances over at his broodmate again, frowning. ]

What was wrong with your memories?

[frakkincylons]

Funny story. [ Sam snorts, after he wraps the bandage back over his hand, and stuffs his hands into his pockets, automatically feeling tense about the people passing by him, thinking about what they might be able to hear. It takes a moment for them to get some distance between themselves and the crowds, but even then, Sam feels wary about saying any of this outloud. Thus, as they walk, he's switching to mental chatter, with a feeling of apology slipped in - he knows Steve doesn't like the mental link, but there's a whole lot of people around him who don't want to see something like Sam existing. ]

( Problem with being... whatever I am. One of the AIs I helped create, killed me and the four other creators. We had this technology, then, called Resurrection. ) [ the notion that this isn't something he's particularly fond of, but that it was necessary for peace at the time is slipped in there. ] ( One body dies, you download your consciousness, memories and all that into a new body. He got to us before we woke up, though, and started moving stuff around. Blocked everything about who or what we were, gave us new memories thinking we'd been living human lives all this time. )

[ a pause there, partly because they come to a cross walk, and everything's so busy here, Sam gets distracted by watching all the goings-on, and the other part because this isn't something he really likes thinking on much. Even just being a Cylon is still very strange to him. ]

( It didn't totally stop those memories from coming back - something always bleeds through, you know? I've got the important parts back, and it's not like it really changed who I was or what I thought was important. That's what he was wanting, I think. That we'd realize something, and suddenly take his side? )

[ A flash of memories are pulled up, short flickers of glimpses, are made available - moments pulled out of conversations with Cavil, on the ground, before any of this Cylon stuff really, truly started for him. how he'd been prodding for something, pushing. thinking just making sam experience humanity in person would make him disgusted with them. ]

( But the rest of it, about 2,000 years worth, is just a blur. When I'm plugged in, I remember it, but after, it's goes all fuzzy again. ) [ But what was removed was what he knows, not who he is. You can't really delete that on a person, not even on a Cylon. Not without just lobotomizing them, which is hardly any different from what's done on humans. ] ( I'm still who I was, so. Can't say I miss it too much. )

[ all honesty, he's sort of okay with it. having two lives in his head - the old Earth and Caprica? anything more than what he has right now would just be... too much, he thinks. ]

( But the thing is, if we'd known what we should've know, we could've stopped a lot of death. That's the problem with the Memory Banks here. They control what information you get, can pluck out any slip ups they don't want the people seeing. )

[decommission]

[ The sense of apology seems less necessary, Steve eases into the mental conversation with less reluctance than he's put forward in the past. Sometimes there's no getting around the fact that talking this way keeps other ears from prying. Given the current topic, the last thing they need is a Concordian hearing about Sam's past.

He listens, quietly, walking at Sam's side with his hands remaining jammed into his pockets, stopping with him just at the edge of the sidewalk. It's hard to reconcile Sam as he is, as Steve's perceived him and continues to do so, and a life that's been lived for two thousand years. It's hard to imagine anyone living for two thousand years, really, but then Sam admits that he's got his own issues with remembering it all.

Resurrection - that's a whole different can of worms he needs to wrap his head around.

The light changes and they start to cross. Steve opens his mouth, forgetting for a second to respond internally. He's quick to close it, shaking his head. There's a part he needs to back up to - ]

( But - wait, why did he kill you? Your AI? ) [ To teach them a lesson? ]

[frakkincylons]

[ He'd expected more questions than that, or a different one, at least, so it's a bit surprising, but Sam figures it makes sense to want to know, so he starts in on explaining. ] ( What we were creating... they were already life. We weren't going to lobotomize them, it would've been completely against our nature. So, they had free will. That's what makes life, isn't it? Agency? The ability to decide who you want to be, and be that? )

[ Maybe. Maybe just having individual thought. Having wants and desires, having opinions that develop all on their own, without someone typing something into a program. It's complicated, but he isn't getting into a philosophical chat here. ] ( We tried to give them good influences. Make them individuals, teach them morals, ethics. Compassion, empathy and kindness. With most of them, it took. But with John... )

[ There's a sorrow that's touched in his mind, tangled up in a kind of disgust, the memories of his time on occupied Caprica, and watching John slaughter and commit atrocities on New Caprica still so bright in his mind. ]

( Like humans can grow into cruelty, John became petty, and jealous. Rejected what we tried to instill in him, hated us for not agreeing with him. He... was angry, that he'd tried to make him more human. That all of us were trying to be human, as far as he'd seen it. He thought we should all be more machine, solve problems coldly and distantly, experience the universe through more than just two eyes. )

[ It was a mess of vague notions, and Sam's not sure he can completely understand it. But that's the point of life as well. Being unique in a way that's also lonely. ]

( He wanted us to see the flaws in humanity, and hoped it would make us reject them. He thought that was the way to win, I dunno, some kind of parental love back from us. )