[open, backdated to May] like i'm losing my mind

[superposition]

Who: Qubit, open
What: Belated amnesia shenanigans! Watch Qubit steadily grow more and more frustrated-
When: month of May 2020
Where: around Anchor
Warnings: TBD

01 | try { qubit = new Identity(); }

[ So, Qubit's behavior has taken a turn for the weird.

For one thing, residents get to see a lot more of him over the month of May, because he's started living out of an actual dorm instead of his lab. The more astute may notice what he's not doing. He's not performing maintenance, or doing lab experiments... or showing up for meals reliably.

His ability to sit still already wasn't stellar, but now it's more pronounced. You might catch him coming and going at odd hours, or pacing the halls muttering to himself, or taking notes on a pad of paper with a pen.

He even looks slightly different. His hair, for one - there was already some variation in his signature quiff from day to day, but now they're not as tall, the styling is a little more experimental, and whatever kind of product he's using doesn't hold quite as well.

But perhaps the most obvious indicator something's wrong: he's occasionally wearing colors other than green. ]

02 | while (true) { read(); }

[ One place he ends up pretty regularly, though, is the library. He's found he hates the feeling of not knowing things, and this leads him to devour pretty much any book he can find that has to do with science. Physics, chemistry, biology, astronomy, anything. He piles them high and reads them quickly, impatient to get to the next one.

They're somewhat advanced texts - university level, certainly - but not advanced enough that they'd be useful to him under normal circumstances. Even then, he's not finding it easy to focus. It's like his mind wants to absorb information faster than his eyes can serve it up, and because of that, it's latching on to every distraction it can find. Even if you think you're being quiet, anyone who dawdles more than a minute or two will be getting an irritated glare and a stern reprimand. ]

Would it kill you to keep it down?

03 | catch GatewayFailedException e { Gateway.lockdown(); }

[ Inevitably, though, he eventually finds his way back to R&D. He may poke around in unlocked areas to get a feel for the place, but his primary target is one lab in particular: the one that he's determined is his.

He thought it would be relatively simple. Sure, he can't remember any of his passcodes, but his biometrics haven't changed. Of course, nothing can ever be that easy - the thumbprint scanner works, but the keypad locks him out after a few random passcode attempts, prompting a sigh and some more self-directed muttering. ]

Suppose I should've expected that. Fine, Plan B it is.

[ It's an electronic lock, after all. He may not be clear on how to create anything with this power of his, but he's remarkably good at breaking shit, and for once that may actually come in handy. A moment's concentration, a wave of his hand, a brief cascade of blue light, and the mechanism comes away from the door in pieces, which clatter onto the floor as he releases them.

Did it work? He actually looks hopeful for a second... until the door emits a quick series of loud ker-thunks, and he realizes with sudden dismay that that's the sound of more locks engaging. ]

A fail-safe...?!

[ He might need some help. ]

[ OR: PM or hit me up on Discord (Kae#6067) for plotting or another prompt! ]

Comments

for Carlisle

[superposition]

04 | addEventListener();

[ But let's step back to the beginning for a second.

Before they dove into the maze this time, Qubit and Peter actually thought to tell a few people where they were going, and for his emergency contact, Qubit chose Carlisle. Not unreasonably, Carlisle objected to him going at all, but Qubit insisted it was important. SINI's up to something again. We want to try and nip it in the bud this time. Don't worry - I'll contact you within 24 hours.

But the 24-hour mark has come and gone, and still no word from Qubit.

He's probably fine, right? ]

[text; un: longinmouth]

[abheirrant]

[Touched as he would be to know he was chosen to be Qubit's emergency contact out of all his friends associates, Carlisle assumes he's one of at least a few, and the moment the 24-hour mark passes without word from Qubit, he wonders if the rest of his presumed contacts are just as worried about the technomancer's whereabouts. He's worrying too much, Carlisle tells himself — he's been working on that all-consuming worry and guilt, among other things (many, many other things), and promised Qubit he would not lose his composure should something happen.

Which it didn't. Qubit is fine.

Twenty-four and one hours, and there's still no word from Qubit. It's still fine, Carlisle assures himself, assuming he's worrying excessively because he, unlike the rest of Qubit's presumed associates, is able to count each and every hour as it passes. That's what happens when one doesn't sleep anymore. Still, he determines he will send Qubit word soon, perhaps in the next day or so. He likely finished his investigation with Peter and immediately returned to his lab to rest. Qubit simply hasn't thought to call. He's fine.

Two minutes later, upon realizing that 'hasn't thought' and 'Qubit' don't generally belong in the same sentence, Carlisle sends a message:]

It is past the time you were to inform me of your return, and so I am sending word to check on you. I assume everything went well?

[abheirrant]

[Half a minute later, a second text comes in:]

I realize now that my previous message sounded worried, but I assure you that I am not. I am keeping my word to you and remaining calm, despite everything. I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.

[abheirrant]

[Eleven minutes after that:]

That is not to say I would be annoyed were you to send a polite message informing me that you have indeed returned, and that you got my previous message, of course. Truthfully, I would appreciate such a gesture, as it is admittedly unusual for your replies to be delayed in any way. There's no emergency this time; Kabal isn't holding me hostage, and I'm not being forced into theft against my will. However, as I said, you are normally quick to respond. I know good and well you don't sleep enough, but should I be bothering you and waking you from a restful dream, you have my sincerest apologies.

[abheirrant]

[Twenty-two seconds:]

But please, DO reply.

[abheirrant]

[He manages to make it a whole hour and a half before sending a final text:]

You are not in your lab. I know this because I have been to your lab, and you did not answer the door. I considered alternative methods of entry, but decided against it so as not to ruin your wall.

Should I not hear back, I will be forced to come looking for you, and I regret to inform you I have very few people I can logically ask to come with me. After last time, I know well enough I ought not brave any depths this place may offer, but I assure you that the closure that would come from finding your corpse would be better than your complete and utter disappearance.

Reply, please.

[superposition]

[ The last message finally wakes Qubit from a fitful sleep. He checks the time - it's still late morning, and barely two hours after he finally managed to drift off. Who would be trying to contact him?

The notification takes him to the most recent message first, so he's only read that one as he groggily types a reply. ]

Not a corpse just feel like one. Just woke up. Hold please.

[abheirrant]

[Despite the aggravation apparent in his texts, Carlisle feels immense relief when he finally gets a reply. As a man who has never taken the disappearances of those close to him well — his uncles back home, Reynir and Kieran here — he was utterly terrified of the prospect of losing Qubit to whatever lurks at the heart of the maze he was so insistent he and Peter investigate.

In good news, he didn't lose Qubit — no one did, as here is the reply Carlisle so desperately wanted. Not fully understanding the request (Hold? Hold what? Onto his nerves as though he could rein them in?), he replies immediately:]

I believe I understand what that feels like more intimately than most. Are you all right?

[superposition]

[ There's a minute or two of delay while Qubit forces himself vertical and collects his bearings. Right... the abandoned space colony. Still can't remember anything prior to frantically going over Fermat's Last Theorem in the shower yesterday. So that's cool. This is fine.

Reading through the previous messages helps to perk him up, though. He may not remember who @longinmouth is, but @longinmouth sure seems to remember him. And if he had an arrangement to contact this person, they must be a friend, or at least an ally, right?

It's a lead, at any rate, and he'll follow it. ]

For certain values of "all right," yes. Physically, I'm

[ takes a second to self-assess ]

unhurt. I did make it out of the "depths" in one piece. However... how should I put this.

Something did happen down there. I don't know what, but...

[ Unease creeps into his mind. Something about admitting vulnerability over an unsecured line just... makes him feel apprehensive. ]

Perhaps we should discuss this in person.

[abheirrant]

[Oh, oh something did happen. But he's fine, right? He's here and replying and he feels like a corpse. But he's not undead. He'd have mentioned were he suddenly undead. He knows how Carlisle feels about undeads, so he must be fine.

... right?

No panicking yet. He can save that for when he sees Qubit and makes an assessment for himself.]

Where may I find you? Did you make it back to your lab?

for Elleru

[superposition]

05 | silenceAll();

[ It's not really sustainable, this level of stress. He's eating irregularly, sleeping little. His mind likes to kick into top gear at the slightest provocation, and the longer this situation goes on, the worse he's equipped even to keep up, much less rein it in. Meanwhile, the drive to figure out what happened to him, to know who he is, is skirting dangerously close to obsession.

Frankly, it's exhausting.

Now, to Qubit's credit, he is aware that he feels like garbage, and that this can't be good for him. He knows he's handling the situation poorly, but how else is he supposed to handle it? How do you troubleshoot a missing sense of self?

... Maybe what he needs is some peace and quiet. Someplace he can go to clear his head. Someplace... organic. The near-constant hum of technology through his "sixth sense" (for lack of a better term) is starting to become background noise, but it still gets distracting at times.

That's what brings him down to the ground floor, to the big park in the atrium. As he'd suspected, the hum fades to silence before he's even twenty steps in, and he lets out a long sigh. ]

Schließlich.

[ Now if he can just get his thoughts down to that volume, he'll be golden. ]

[birdical]

[The wee hours of the morning usually find the park empty, but it turns out there are two visitors today — one sleepless man, and one creature visiting her secret nest. Elleru has managed to keep it hidden fairly well, the entrance to her burrow tucked away behind some shrubs and a tree near one of the walls that encapsulates the area. The tunnel is smaller than one might expect for a creature of her size, but she's adept at shimmying her way through it — she has been doing this her entire life, after all. She was delighted to find the ground was not only suitable for digging, but surprisingly deep, allowing her to make a sizable den.

Ever since she started living with Rey in the housing quarters, she hasn't needed — or even wanted — to return as often to the den, but every now and then, she likes to sneak away for some privacy, enjoying a more natural habitat for her in her natural form. She makes sure to make her exit when no one is looking, and has found that the early morning is when the park is most likely to be empty, her second home and her true nature away from prying eyes.

Unfortunately, the park isn't empty this morning, and the serene silence is broken by the sound of claws scrabbling against the dirt, pebbles and roots shoved aside as Elleru squeezes past them. Shaking her great head to knock the dust and soil in her mane loose, she opens her eyes — and they land directly on Qubit.

Oh, oh this wasn't how she was hoping to reveal her natural form to him. Ever since her talk with Rey, she's been trying to be more open with what she truly is — there is no reason to hide it, now is there? There's no worry they will come after her people, no fear anyone in Anchor will hunt her down, and she has the knowledge that if someone foolishly tried, others would undoubtedly come to her aid. She's arguably safer here than she was back home. Still, the notion of admitting she's deceived anyone by hiding her true nature — even if she had good reason — has yet to sit well with her, especially when it comes to people she likes, like Qubit.

No time like the present to work on that. She hangs her head apologetically as she approaches him, hoping he'll take her appearance well. He is a man of science, so surely he has seen divine beasts in his time?]

[superposition]

[ The walk he's taking is a slow one, though it can't really be called "leisurely" given how tense he is. He thinks it's helping? But he can't help noticing how little there is in the way of nature sounds. There's no wind to rustle the trees, only occasional bird calls... and even those sound weird to his ears. (He hopes they're birds, anyway.)

So the sudden crunching of claws through soil would have been pronounced enough on its own, even if it weren't taking place just a handful of meters ahead of him. Motion in the brush, a spray of dirt and leaves, and he finds himself face to face with something fluffy, bright purple, and large.

For a moment, all he can do is stare at the creature, in undisguised, open-mouthed amazement - maybe even awe. What is that? What is that?? There's no way that came from Earth, right? It's only belatedly, as he makes eye contact, that he starts to recognize the actual situation he's in. Whatever it is, it's much bigger than him, it's got a wicked-looking beak and claws, it's barely five meters away, and it's looking directly at him.

... Well! Seems he's in danger!

Before he can decide what to do about this, the beast starts ambling toward him, and he scrambles back a few steps, holding his hands out defensively. ]

Whoa, whoa whoa whoa! Steady on now. Easy...

[ I mean, not that he's scared or anything. Haha, scared, him? ... Okay yeah he's visibly scared. He doesn't even know how to handle domestic animals, much less whatever this is. For all he knows, "head down" could mean she's about to charge. ]

[birdical]

[She pauses, her head rising as he stops her. Oh no, she's gone and rattled him. Not what she meant to do at all, but she understands that not all uprights — especially those unfamiliar with her kind — understand the divinity inherent in her true form. They believe her to be a wild beast incapable of intelligence and grace.

And so, she speaks, keeping her voice soft, encouraging.]

It is all right, Qubit. [His name is just always going to have an extra syllable in it when she says it.] It is me, Elleru. There is no need to be frightened.

[And because such a gesture most certainly won't terrify him further, she's just going to bound right up to him to give him an affectionate nudge.]

[superposition]

[ She can talk? Qubit's shoulders drop, the fear in his expression yielding to confusion. ]

How do you - [ - know my name? he's about to say, but that's all the further he gets before she hops over and gently bumps her face into his chest.

It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. This is somebody he knew, another friend he's forgotten. (Probably. She sure seems to think they're friends. Is she a she? Her voice sounds female, but this is an alien species or something, who knows if that's even remotely applicable...)

After a second, he gives her an awkward, experimental pat on the neck. Her fur is ... surprisingly soft, with a distinct earthy smell - predictably, given that she was burrowed underground thirty seconds ago. ]

Elleru. Right. I... didn't recognize you.

[ Wow, that sounds stupid. "Didn't recognize you"? How many other bright purple griffins do they have traipsing around? ... He has no idea how many other bright purple griffins they might have traipsing around. ]

02

[writtendestiny]

[Poison is being quiet. In fact she hasn't uttered a word since she walked in through the door. She appreciates the sanctity of a library, and enjoys the silence that wraps around her like a blanket the moment she enters the place.

She sees Qubit there but doesn't disturb him. He's been acting... strangely lately, in a way she wasn't really able to put her finger on until he started dressing in colours outside of his usual green. Erratic. But nothing that she felt she needed to point out. He was, after all, rather eccentric anyway.

But when he snaps at her like that while she's browsing a shelf near where he's sitting, she turns a sharp look at him and replies curtly.]

I'll just stop breathing, shall I, to keep your highness happy?

[superposition]

[ Ugh. Look. He's tired, he's stressed, he hasn't eaten in close to 18 hours, and (obviously unrelated to all that) he can't focus. The littlest things are all it's taking to set him off. The rustle of turning pages, the gentle thump of a book returned to the shelf - so this girl going and mouthing off is more than enough. He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. ]

Oh, don't get smart with me. You can run along and breathe somewhere else. [ And as if that weren't condescending enough, he waves his hand in the universal gesture for "shoo." ]

[writtendestiny]

No, I don't think I will.

[Really, he'd done absolutely everything wrong in a single moment if he wanted someone as contrary and obstinate as Poison to go anywhere. She narrows her eyes at him, then looks away and pointedly pulls another book down from the shelf she's been perusing.]

What crawled into your breakfast? You're in an even worse mood than usual. [Though to be fair to Qubit, her experience of him doesn't tell her that he's usually in poor humour. She's just feeling prickly.]

[superposition]

[ Lol "breakfast" that's a good one. Predictably, her refusal does not make Qubit less annoyed. ]

Oh, sorry. Let me just [ snaps his fingers ] flip the switch that makes everything dandy. What's it to you?

[writtendestiny]

Because I'm used to you being short or dismissive with me when you're busy with something, but you're very rarely outright rude.

[And by now he ought to know better, and ought to know that Poison more often than not does the exact opposite of what she is told... so what's the deal.]

And I might actually care if there's something bothering you.

for Carlisle again hi bro

[superposition]

06 | sleep();

[ During their first meeting - well, the first for Qubit, anyway - Carlisle extended him an open invitation to his home in the Agricultural Zone, and Qubit's taken him up on it. Repeatedly. Every other day, at a minimum. Hope he isn't wearing out his welcome.

He never comes empty-handed, at least. He's been bringing along the results of his research, or whatever scientific text has grabbed his interest, or else new observations regarding himself, his powers, or Anchor. He even asked Carlisle to perform another diagnostic exam, once, trying to turn up more details about the pervasive mystery contaminant in his tissue. (And then complained about it afterward, even though he literally asked for it.)

But days turn to weeks, and they still don't have a solution. And it's pretty clearly taking a toll on Qubit. With every visit, his appearance grows a little more haggard, his behavior a little more erratic. His determination to fix things hasn't waned - if anything, it's growing stronger by the day. But it's starting to cross the line into desperate obsession.

He wants to go back into the maze. No, not wants to - he feels he has to. Nothing else is working. He's told Carlisle as much, several times, and so far his friend's managed to talk him out of it. It's too dangerous. You're not ready. And he's right, damn him, but -

- but Qubit can't let it go. To the point where it's a problem for him, too.

So one night - or morning, technically, it's about half three - he finds himself back in the A.Z. "If you need anything, you can come to me," Carlisle said. And Qubit knows he needs something, right now, even if he can't put words to it. He raps sharply, urgently, on the door of the tiny house. ]

Carlisle, are you up? It's Qubit.

well look what the Qubit dragged in (himself, apparently)

[abheirrant]

[Of course he's up, Qubit. There's not been a single instance Qubit has been to visit that he hasn't been up, no matter what time it was. Sometimes, he's inside his shed-turned-house, working on his glyphcrafting; other times, he's out with the chickens, doting on the one in the sweater. He's been found painting the fence, arranging the stones that surround his garden, pointedly ignoring the monster sitting in the middle of the herd of cattle. Whatever task he's up to, he always is willing to drop it quickly in order to help Qubit, clearly demonstrating where his priorities lie. He might not be willing to say aloud that he and Qubit are friends, but there's no clearer indicator than his dedication to the man.

So when Qubit comes around again, even at half three, he's quick to open the door, as though Qubit might wander off into the maze if he left him waiting. The time of night does bring a change to his wardrobe: though he's still wearing the padded outfit normally hidden by his long coat — complete with mask and veil — it's all tucked neatly beneath a fluffy bathrobe, as though that'd somehow make him feel more relaxed when at home if he somewhat looked the part. As it is, the robe is clearly a couple of sizes too big for his frame, his gloved hands barely making it to the ends of the sleeves. He's surprised to see Qubit at this time of night, but perhaps less alarmed by his frazzled appearance than he ought to be. As they were often his natural states in life, he's well aware what stress, frustration, anxiety, and exhaustion will do to a person.]

Of course, of course.

[He steps aside to let Qubit in. What was clearly one of the buildings for the farm has been rearranged entirely to become a makeshift house: a table sits in the center of the space, the two well-worn chairs where they usually sit during Qubit's visits; his bed on the farm wall is always made, and rarely seems to see use. As the weeks have passed, the little shrine he's built for himself atop a small table in the corner seems to have taken shape, as have the shelves on the walls, each one lined with knickknacks and trinkets picked up from around Anchor, arranged with no obvious rhyme or reason.

Carlisle shoves the papers on the table to one side, trying to stack them up — more glyphs, as usual, as well as some rudimentary illustrations of how they would be constructed around what appears to be his home. He glances Qubit's way, looking him over as he taps the papers into a neat pile.]

You look unwell.

[At least he's honest about that.]

[superposition]

[ He more or less expected Carlisle would be up. Frankly, he's not sure the man ever sleeps - and there's a very real possibility he doesn't. Qubit brought it up as a joke once, early on, but the way Carlisle reacted ... well. He's not about to bring it up again, anyway. He didn't expect the fluffy bathrobe, and can't help raising a quizzical eyebrow at it. It's absolutely ridiculous, much like the way he wears work gloves over his regular gloves, but Qubit's not in the mood to poke fun.

He enters the little house, but doesn't sit down. He's far too restless for that. Instead he stands and fidgets, shifting his weight or repositioning his hands every few seconds. He should have brought something to occupy them. Isn't there some saying about idle hands...? ]

[ Flatly- ] Thanks. Don't worry, I feel worse than I look.

[ No, he didn't misspeak, don't parse that, he doesn't want to talk about it. His eyes land on the stack of papers, and he leans (maybe excessively) over the table for a better look, planting one hand on its surface. ]

What are you working on? More of those glyphs? I see "abjuration" there. [ pointing to one of the symbols. ] Where's this one going?

[ At least he's enthusiastic? Maybe a little too enthusiastic. Aggressively enthusiastic. ]

[abheirrant]

[Aggressively enthusiastic, indeed. For as blunt as he'd been a moment ago, he averts his eyes in the same way he does when one brings up the fact he doesn't seem to sleep ever, that distinct mannerism of avoidance with just a touch of shame.]

Abjuration, yes. [He's privately pleased Qubit recognized the sigil, and worried all the same for the day Qubit can immediately determine what kind of glyphs he's making at a glance.] I'm devising a way to protect this area, should there be a sudden infestation of destructive energies or magic.

[He obviously doesn't want to discuss it though, as he rounds back to Qubit's initial statement, his eyes on the technomancer's restless behavior.]

But surely you didn't come here just to see what I was doing in the dead of the night. You ought be asleep.

[superposition]

[ Yeah, one thing Qubit's pointed out about himself is his extraordinary knack for memorization. When he commits something to memory, it stays there, present circumstances notwithstanding. So that day will come, probably, it's only a matter of time... ]

[ He shakes his head impatiently. ] Can't sleep anyway. Is that a likely scenario? I thought you were the only wiz- magician. Only magician in Anchor.

[ He shakes it again, this time trying to clear it, then squeezes his eyes shut and rubs them heavily with one hand. Yeeeeeah, if you two could just stop itching and focus properly, that'd be greeeeeat. ]