[open]

[biomechatronic]

Who: Dennett Norton and OPEN
What: Unhappy nerd exploring the Capitol after his first inauspicious Arena death
Where: Mostly District 1
When: Nowish
Warnings: none I can think of.

Dennett had thought that the last week back home had been the worst week of his life: he'd testified before Congress, and had gone from a private citizen to the target of a firestorm of controversy. Controversy he fully deserved. He'd told himself, when it happened, 'nine days' wonder'--that they would move on to something else, some new scandal, some new controversy. It hadn't been nine days so he didn't know if that was true. Instead he'd woken up here, thrown into some gladiatorial death match...thing. And now here, in a place that looks like it should be hosting a chess competition. Or an old tuberculosis sanatorium. It was so far removed from the brutality of the Arena that it hurt his head to try to think about it.

1

The boardwalk shops cast garish light through the gathering evening, filled with trinkets like souvenirs, everything but shells with googly eyes glued to them. Who would want souvenirs of this place? And did that mean he could go somewhere else, like home?

He was pondering that latter as he turned off the boardwalk, up the road that led to the hotel(?) where he was staying, when a snowball smacked into the back of his head, followed by fast footsteps pounding into the shadows. And Dennett is not going to take this anymore: he runs--as fast as his middle-aged softness will let him--following the sound. "Come back here!"

2

He's never been a fan of rumors, but after meeting Clara--painfully--he'd kept his ears open. Alex was here. That was beyond doubt. Which was bad enough, but the other rumors were even worse. And he didn't want confirmation but, well, he'd run away before. And he owed Alex, whether Alex knew it or not.

He talks to anyone who makes eye contact, and even a few who assiduously try not to. This is important: comfort zone be damned.

"Yes. Please. Alex Murphy. He's...quite tall. Have you heard anything, please? Where I could find him?" He just hopes Alex doesn't slap him, too, when he finds him.

3

He's at the training area, but he's not training. This isn't him. He can't do this. He doesn't even know what half this stuff is for! But still, they seem to expect him to 'train', and he doesn't need psychic powers to deduce they were disappointed with his 'performance'. So he's here, but he's watching, instead, looking about as lost and uncomfortable as you could imagine.  "I..there has to be another way.".

Comments

[biomechatronic]

He didn't think it would work, so he's not particularly surprised that it flopped in the air between them like a dead fish. He's hardly one of the hardened criminals Alex might have had lying to him before.

"Alex." He sighs. "Your spine was severed. You'd lost one eye, possibly both. Hearing, as well. The hand...it was just about the only intact thing left." He's going to not mention the face, though he figures Alex can figure it out.

[yourmove]

Imagining what could be hiding under this rig was one thing. Hearing about it from someone who definitely knows, though? Alex is sorry he asked because he can see fine out of his eyes but now he has to wonder - are they even real? Are they prosthetic eyes or something? Instead of optic nerves, it's wires threaded into his face? Nausea rises in his throat, Alex swallowing.

He probably doesn't even have a stomach. Couldn't even throw up if he wanted to.

"Jesus Christ." Alex doesn't know what to say. "So I don't even have a body if you could open this thing up right now."

[biomechatronic]

Maybe Alex shouldn't ask why he can see HUD displays, since they are projections on his optic structures, whether the visor is down or not.

"Alex." He can only imagine what it's like: to wake up in this body, no matter how finely engineered it was. "There was extensive, unsurvivable damage. Otherwise Clara wouldn't have agreed to this." Though he wasn't sure if she knew all she was getting into. They rarely did, but the point for her was she'd have her husband, the brain and personality of the man she loved. And that was what mattered.

Wasn't it?

[yourmove]

Clara. Bringing up her name seems to get Alex to back down slightly, his shoulders relaxing with a soft hum, his face relaxing a fraction. "Yeah. Yeah, she basically said that."

He turns away from the doctor, paces for a bit, and then stands there with his hands on his graphene hips like he'd meant to shove his hands in his pockets only to realize he wasn't wearing jeans anymore.

"So this is how it'll be. The rest of my life. I starved back in the Arena." Alex turns back to Norton. "So that means I can't even eat like a normal person?"

The very least he can do is find out what he can and can't do. The Capitol techs have been a lot less helpful, come to think of it. Maybe that's part of the entertainment value, the whole seeing how the newbie cyborg handles it on the fly.

[biomechatronic]

It was probably low, bringing in Clara like that, though it was the truth. Clara had wanted him to live and, well, what kind of life could he have had otherwise?

But.

"You starved?!?" Excuse him for sounding outraged. He'd thought being stabbed in the eye with a knitting needle was bad enough. But...starvation?

"No. No. I mean, I can try to rig something up. You need--back home, you had a glucose solution, injected with the other protocols. I can...there has to be something we can do."

[yourmove]

"How am I supposed to eat? From the way you talk, I don't even got a stomach!" Alex flares up, seems to realizes he's taking it out on the one man here who might know what he's talking about, and deflates. "Sorry. Thanks for doing what you can."

He's not sure how he feels about "glucose solutions" and "protocols" (the hell?) being injected to him. That's probably how they were keeping him alive in the Capitol to begin with but still. Now Alex wonders if he should tell the doctor that he'd definitely tried eating and drinking - and it probably got ground up on gears or fried some circuits or something.

...That probably hadn't helped his stint in the Arena, in retrospect.

[biomechatronic]

Oh no. Not that look.

Dennett takes a step back, hands between them--because surely they'd be a lot of good in a crisis.

"Back in Detroit, we injected the protocols into your bloodstream. But I suppose, simple sugars--monosaccharides--can be digested in the mouth, if need be, but not as a full-time solution." Hope you have a sweet tooth, Alex?

"There has to be someone we can talk to here, someone to get something working. They can't have brought you here just for that to happen." Dennett: Naive.

[yourmove]

Alex can't help himself: he visibly shudders at the mental image of this protocol injection because it sounds like it's a lot more involved than just sticking a needle in your arm, like Red Cross. It takes him a minute to realize that basically what the doctor's saying is he better get used to eating candy.

He's never wanted a juicy, medium-rare steak more than right now.

"I'm guessing they didn't expect that part," Alex mutters. He sighs, stepping back once he notices Norton looks like he's expecting to get decked in the face. "Is there anything else I should know about the - the, uh, the handling of this thing?"

He points at the rig that's supposed to be his body from now on.

[biomechatronic]

Actually, a needle in the arm, in retrospect, would seem less, well, helpless than a cradle and a port in the back of the neck.

He'd offer to have that steak, but red meat--so unhealthy.

Not that getting stabbed in the eye was any better.

"I can't imagine what they were thinking. I-I-I mean, me? In some sort of, what? gladiatorial combat?" Someone had a rather odd sense of humor.

"Oh, well. I mean, that's normally my job. I mean, the suit." That's Dennett for 'it's really complicated and he doesn't want to list all the bad things that could go wrong.

[yourmove]

Alex doesn't know either and he has to agree: Dr. Norton is one of the last people he'd look at and think yeah, he's totally a stone-cold murderer. "They're not thinking."

Personally he thinks Norton's taking this like any sane person would - the problem is the Capitol isn't exactly full of sane people who would agree and he bet someone out there is getting their kicks watching an old man trying to survive an Arena.

"Yeah, I get there. But I'd still like to know if I'm gonna be stuck in it." He tries to think of it in terms like it's a car, like he needs to learn stick shift. Trying to avoid thinking of it long-term.

[biomechatronic]

"It's frightening--the power to bring us here and no conscience." Power and conscience should go together. It's a lesson he's learned the hard way. On Alex, really, and that fact is not lost on him, a little grimace flitting over his mouth.

He hesitates, because...well, this is awkward. Really awkward. "...yes, Alex. That suit. It's you. It's your body." Only, if you ask him, a lot sturdier than the one he'd had before.

[yourmove]

"You're telling me," Alex mutters. He used to think Detroit was pretty bad, but now it's looking better and better in comparison to the Capitol.

He grimaces. "I know. You told me. But I didn't grow up with this thing and it's not like riding a bike. That's why I'm asking you before I get any more surprises down the line."

[biomechatronic]

"I designed it to be fairly intuitive." Excuse him, he may huff, just a little bit. Alex could walk, move his hands--simple biofeedback. Well, it seemed simply. In reality it was millions of dollars and decades worth of research. "Fifty caliber weaponry is all I remember. And it it should respond when you're threatened." And he thought--just for a minute, about the transponder Mattox had used--it was still there, just as it had been in China.

No one here could use it, he thought, and it was probably more trouble t explain to Alex than it was worth.

[yourmove]

He could huff all he wants, he was still faced off with a cop who didn't care how Star Trek and cutting edge this was. It still wasn't his body. Alex was the kind of guy who could use computers just fine but couldn't do a damn thing if it had a virus or it farted out. In short, he's the last person to appreciate the intricacies.

"So what if I need to sleep? Do I have to keep using that rack?" Alex really hates that thing. They call it a cradle, but it creeps him out to think he's actually hooked into it and he really, really misses an honest to God bed.

[biomechatronic]

He will huff, all he wants. Professional pride is one of the few things they haven't taken from him. Yet.

"Rack? Do they have that here?" That was a wonderful start. That would, if it was the one from Detroit, give him a base to get things started. "Show me." Sorry, Alex, no answer for you. Or an implied one: yep. That's your cozy bed.

[yourmove]

Alex sighs. "Follow me."

He pivots and leads Norton to the attached lab: it might not be as big as the one Norton's used to back in Detroit, but the Capitol has made up for it by adding color. Every surface is lined or accented with District 5's colors, right down the cradle standing vertical in the middle of the room. It's an affront to the sterility of the white and greys of the lab he used to have. They even have scented candles for ambience.

"Home sweet home," Alex says bitterly, staring daggers at the cradle. He really hates that goddamn thing. Sure, he gets the best sleep he's ever had in it. But when he wakes and he's locked to the thing, feeling like he's paralyzed? He'd trade it for a lumpy mattress any day of the week. "I'm guessing that's familiar.

[biomechatronic]

Dennett wouldn't find the color a useful, necessary or even desirable addition. What was wrong with his plain, chrome and white color scheme?

Everyone was a critic.

"Yes, well, mostly familiar." It could do without the Yankee Candle chic. He steps closer, examining the cradle, checking the connectors, where they'd attach to Alex's neck. "But this is good news, Alex. This...this we can work with!" He wouldn't have to re-invent the proverbial wheel, at any rate.

[yourmove]

"What do you mean?" Alex tries not to let his hopes up. He's pretty sure whatever the doctor says, it won't be something like we'll wean you off this, no problem.

[biomechatronic]

"It means you won't starve, well, once we get it working again." Surely that's good news. "And with any luck, I can use it to monitor your other systems, those error messages you're getting." You are a mechanical problem, Alex Murphy, the first almost-familiar thing Dennett's encountered since arriving. He perhaps can't be blamed--too much--for throwing himself headlong into problem solving, even with a little loss to, well, bedside manner.

[yourmove]

Okay, so they're feeding him through that. How they do it, he doesn't want to know. He's never awake for it and the idea of them tubing up his body while he's unconscious skeeves him the hell out. Alex keeps his face as blank as he can before he says something he'll regret.

"I doubt they'll let you lug this thing into the arena, doctor," Alex feels like he needs to bust Norton's bubble. But at least he'll fix the annoying error messages, so there's that, at least.

[biomechatronic]

Dennett would gladly explain how the whole system works, but even he's cottoned onto the fact that Now May Not Be the Right Time.

He does look aghast at the suggestion. "I should hope not. It needs to stay here, where it's safe. The damage some of those...savages could do to it--!" Alex may be well armored--the cradle is not.

[yourmove]

Alex closes his eyes before he loses his cool and blows up at Dr. Norton. This right here? This is why he doesn't like to hang around the tech guys - they can't see the forest for the trees, they miss the point that it's not the damn rack he should be worried about getting damaged and Alex really, really doesn't care how much it costs. Or how cool it is to a science geek.

"So how do I eat in the Arena? Can you figure something portable?" Alex steers the conversation away from the cradle, although he can't help shooting a sidelong stare at it.

[biomechatronic]

But trees are important, Alex! All those details, all those little functions and mechanisms--someone has to think of each of them to get them working at all.

"I..don't know. I mean, how long do those things last? I suppose I could find some way to create a sort of autoinjector..." Case in point right now, Alex, the science geek getting all hung up on details. Because you asked.

[yourmove]

"I started feeling some effects after the first few days," Alex doesn't like to think about it. He'd gone through a mental list of all the ways he could die on the job - ratted out for being a cop, car crash, domestic disturbance gone wrong - but somehow starving to death hadn't on there. "Seriously, anything would help."

He's admittedly not sure where the auto-injector would go though. Not exactly a vein to go into.

[biomechatronic]

Excuse the look, Alex, this is Dennett's 'looking at you like a mechanical problem he's going to solve' look. It does mean he's pondering solutions. In theory, there's circulation in his hand--his human hand. That's a possibility, on the off chance he can't convince Alex to stab himself in the neck.

"A few days. All right, that gives us something to work with." He reaches out, touching the mechanical arm. "We'll work something out, Alex. I promise." Because he's so good with promises.