[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

[superposition]

[ He accepts both and starts copying down the relevant information. His handwriting is a bit larger than Carlisle's, and though it's basically print, he writes too quickly for the pen to leave the page consistently between strokes. The result is a sort of hybrid cursive, legible enough, but not what you'd call tidy. He motions at the tablet with the butt end of the pen - ]

The tablet? Yeah, funny story, I forgot my password.

[ - and returns to his notes. At least his deadpan sense of humor is intact. ]

"Necrotic... energies." What does that mean? What are "necrotic energies"?

[abheirrant]

[He nods, understanding just enough about passwords and how they work for technology to get by. It'd be like losing the key to his room — he does hope Qubit can even get into his lab, now that he thinks about it.

But that's one of those questions he can't answer, even if he wants to. He works on the one he can:]

Magic. Should someone try to rot their way through the door to gain access to your lab, for theft or otherwise. Not everyone here is... cooperative.

[Which is his polite way of saying that Anchor has Assholes.]

[superposition]

[ Magic again. Qubit taps the pen against the paper a few times, dissatisfied, but ... ultimately decides to leave it. He can crack open that can of worms once he's a little better situated. For now, he just jots down "magic," in quotes. ]

Right, uh... you mentioned someone having held you hostage, didn't you? "Kabal," I think? With a K?

[abheirrant]

[The name causes Carlisle to stiffen, if only a fraction. Did he mention Kabal? He did, didn't he, somewhere in all those messages he sent to Qubit when thinking he might have been dead.]

Er, yes. That Kabal. He wears a mask, carries hooked swords, looks as though he slept once in a fire. I would say the two of you are not on good terms, but all honesty, I'm not sure he's on good terms with anyone in Anchor.

[superposition]

Bit of a rotten apple, then.

[ He notes it down, then pauses again, debating whether to ask... ]

What about Scaramouche? Are you familiar with him?

[abheirrant]

I cannot say I know anyone by that name.

[Though he has met him, and wouldn't have a great opinion of him on principle alone.]

I haven't met everyone here, though. I keep to myself when possible.

[superposition]

Mm. Okay. [ Well, not ideal, but... maybe he can still lend a second opinion. He's not sure who else he'd mention this to, anyway. ]

He's the robot who led us out of the maze. If it weren't for him, we'd still be lost down there. And don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to him, but there's something...

[ He fidgets, struggling to put it into words. ]

... something ... very not right about him. I don't know how to explain it. It's like... ah! [ He grabs his comm off the desk and holds it out to Carlisle. ] When you're holding one of these, what do you feel? Anything?

[abheirrant]

[There's again a visible flinch at the term robot, the softest shudder as though the very concept makes his skin crawl. He stifles it as best he can; after all, this robot apparently saved Peter and Qubit's lives. That is worth their gratitude.]

I feel nothing.

[That response was immediate, well before he actually takes the offered communicator. Realizing that answer was both uncomfortably frank and literal for a Qubit who no longer knows him, he takes the device as though it would change what he is. Still nothing — he didn't think so.]

Er, nothing from the communicator, that is. Try to describe it, if you would.

[superposition]

[ Right - from the communicator. Carlisle just worded it kind of strangely, he does that. Nothing to read into here. ]

It's... this this this buzzing, or humming, almost. But it isn't auditory, it's more... tactile? No. [ He gestures as if trying to conjure the words he needs out of the ether. The sensation doesn't quite belong in any of the standard five categories. ]

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle hmms to himself, thinking. What Qubit describes sounds akin to how his magic reacts when other sources are around — not necessarily a bodily sensation like taste or smell, but an agitation that is felt nonetheless. His first notion is that it might be related to the little somethings that infest Qubit's body, perhaps reacting to an external influence. The obvious connection between a robot and the communicator is that they're both machines, forms of technology. Qubit doesn't have magic to become agitated, but he does have—]

Have you considered it might be your technomancy reacting to other technology? In the past, you've told me they're not the same thing, but frankly, there are a lot of similarities to be drawn between your skill and my magic. Of course, now that you don't know about your technomancy, I suppose posing such a question is pointless, but...

[It's a start. Back into his notes he goes, trying to find out what all he wrote about the process. The page he pulls out has a drawing of a teakettle on it — not exactly high-tech, but it must have been significant at the time.]

[superposition]

[ Qubit shakes his head. It's hardly pointless - he certainly doesn't intend to continue not knowing anything, and the first step to finding answers is asking the right questions. ]

Well, it almost has to be, don't you think? I don't know what else it would be. [ "Technomancy," that is. He gestures to the other devices on the desk - tablet, wristwatch, force field generator. ] All my electronics set it off one way or another. So do the doors, the - the computer terminals, the robots...

[ Damn near everything in Anchor, basically. He pauses to see what Carlisle's dug up, though. ]

What have you got?

[abheirrant]

Notes I took when we discussed this once.

[He hands over the page, as well as the one following it. In addition to the drawing is what is clearly a journal entry about the aforementioned conversation and Qubit's explanation of electricity, complete with some diagrams drawn to relate it to various principles of magic and glyphcrafting. While he seems to have the basic premise down, it's clear he's completely foreign to the concept, writing about it as an outsider looking in.

One the back of the page is what may be of more interest: notes about psionics in particular.

Conscious minds interact with matter, energy, and force. Universally consistent, empirically verifiable. He says it is unlike magic in that way, but I disagree.

The entry continues, where Carlisle then recorded the main beats of their conversation comparing glyphcrafting to circuitry. One note is written off to the side - technokinetics, not technomancy. As diligent a note-taker as he may be, he's clearly still learning the terminology.]

[superposition]

You took notes?

[ Of course you did, he shouldn't be surprised. He accepts the papers with only a brief lift of his eyebrows, and paces idly while he looks them over. It doesn't take long; he's a fast reader, and it's interesting stuff, to say the least.

Obviously it's only half the conversation, and some of Carlisle's terminology sounds arcane, old-fashioned, or obtuse to him, since he lacks even a novice level of context for the magic jargon. But it gets the point across, at any rate. A frank discussion of science, technology, and magic. The similarities and differences. A diagram of an electric teakettle, labeled to explain how it works. The physics of electricity, a brief note comparing "glyphs" to digital circuits (and in reading that, Qubit realizes he doesn't know how digital circuits work, either, but that's not exactly an earth-shattering surprise at this point)...

The note about psionics grabs his attention most of all, as Carlisle no doubt knew it would. He stops pacing and rereads that line half a dozen times, as if hoping it'll take the hint and explain itself. (It does no such thing.) Finally, he looks up at Carlisle again, motioning to it. ]

This bit about "psionics" - I said that? Those are my exact words?

[abheirrant]

I would not have written them were they not. I do try to keep accurate notes for my own reference. I've compared your abilities to magic before — transfiguration, specifically — and you told me repeatedly that wasn't correct.

[He seems slightly annoyed by that, but that's at past Qubit, not present Qubit, he swears.]

You did seem to be coming around, though. I... appreciated our conversations, however frustrated I might have been at our differences.

[After all, said differences are small compared to how similar the two of them are.]

[superposition]

[ Qubit rereads it a few more times while he listens. What's strangest to him, though, is that they had this discussion at all.

Psionics: Conscious minds interact with matter, energy, and force. Psychic powers, basically. That part's straightforward. Universally consistent, empirically verifiable. But how? He can't even adequately describe what he's experiencing, much less quantify it. He says it is unlike magic in that way...

At the comment about appreciating their conversations, Qubit glances up again, mildly apologetic. Well... hopefully, once they get this amnesia crap sorted, they can get back to the good stuff. There was something earlier in this entry... He flips the page back over.

... he is likely the smartest man I have ever met, yet so resistant to the very notion of not knowing everything that it's often infuriating.

It's not quite as simple as putting two and two together, but he can make some inferences. ]

... It sounds like I was taking the existence of magic as a given. That's what's puzzling me.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle lets out a dry, quiet chuckle.]

You forget your own abilities and us ever meeting, but manage to remember your incredible scrutiny of magic. It must be ingrained into your very personality.

[He means well with that comment, despite his momentary annoyance a moment before.]

This was not the first time we discussed magic, mine or otherwise. You knew it existed, however vexing it may have been that you could not always explain it. You've seen me use it dozens of times — even once just now when I was inspecting you. It's as intrinsic to me as technology is to you. Perhaps even more so.

[Definitely more so, given magic is what's keeping him animated, allowing him to have this conversation.]

[superposition]

[ Yeesh, don't remind him of the whole "inspection" thing. Just thinking about that process is unsettling. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. ]

I understand what you're saying. And I - I'm not fool enough to ignore the evidence of my senses out of hand. It's obvious you have abilities that defy the laws of nature. We both do, apparently.

[ Even if he hasn't got a clue how to use his. ]

I don't know. Maybe I just can't accept that sort of thing on faith. "Magic" is just - it feels like a cop-out, to me. It's a convenient label to tack on to things you don't want to bother figuring out. [ quickly ] I mean, obviously that's not how you think of it. But to say "it's magic" - for me, that's not good enough. There's no way to prove or disprove a hypothesis like that.

[ He pauses a second. Talking this out is helping him solidify his thought process, but ... ]

Am I making any sense? [ Serious question, he's honestly not sure. ]

[abheirrant]

Some, though I cannot understand why magic in particular feels like a 'convenient label' for something you do not understand.

[It's the term in particular Qubit seems to be stuck on, as though—]

Is that how your world sees magic? As nothing more than an excuse for any phenomenon you cannot explain? Nevermind, you don't know, but- but it must be. Some individuals here have been brought from worlds that had no magic at all, and though you were already familiar with it when we met, that may be the case.

[He can't recall if Qubit said anything to that affect, but given how reluctant he often was to talk about his home, it's no surprise.]

[superposition]

[ Qubit shrugs - obviously he can't say for sure, but he can always speculate. ]

Maybe so. Actually - [ he rests a hand on his chin ] - I think you may be right. Otherwise the term "magical thinking" wouldn't be interchangeable with "blind superstition."

[abheirrant]

It is not blind superstition in my world, but obviously, magic is commonplace there.

[He rubs the back of his neck.]

I know no way to prove to you its existence any more than I have, and as you no longer know me, you have no reason to believe me. I have seen your technomancy, so therefore it exists. Why cannot it be the same for magic?

[superposition]

[ Qubit's brow crinkles, his head tilting to one side. ] It's not that I don't believe you. I mean, I haven't seen my technomancy. I'm taking your word for that. And obviously I've witnessed your - your magic. It's just...

[ ... It's just what? Why can't he just accept what he sees at face value? Why isn't that good enough? Why does it matter? After a moment, he sighs and scratches his head. ]

I don't know. Maybe it is a personality defect.

[abheirrant]

Everybody has at least one, Mister Qubit. And some, several.

[Still, the fact Qubit believes a now-near-stranger is heartening. He flips to earlier in his journal.]

As for your technoman— technokinetics, pardon. [Seems like he finally thought to correct himself.] I said, it's akin to transfigurative magic. When I've seen you do it, you just kind of... take little bits and pieces of machinery in your hands, or draw them from nearby, and they cobble themselves together to create something new. You made that teakettle, and before that, this... [He reads off the page he's turned to.] Cordless dremel.

[superposition]

[ Whoa Carlisle finally got the name almost right?! That's approximately a first!

Hm. The new description is still a little vague, but he can sort of picture it, at least. His comm is the nearest bit or piece, so he picks that up again, absently inspecting it. ]

That's a power tool, isn't it? [ He's not sure what it does, but it sounds like a power tool. ] What did I make it out of?

[ There's probably some kind of parameters, right? For what he can use, what he can make? What could he make out of this? ]

[abheirrant]

We were in the wastes, attempting to inspect this... [cisth, what did he call it] lorry? I believe that's what you said. Like a massive, mechanical wagon that just appeared one day.

[And upon saying that, he seems to realize Qubit may wonder what he, a man so obviously inept with technology that he doesn't even know the correct term for what it was they were inspecting, was doing out there. What help could he have possibly been?]

It's- it's not advised to go out alone, so I went with you. [That'll do.] And we couldn't get into the back of the lorry, so you went up front into the cabin and pulled the innards from the machinery there. Not literally pulled, but your eyes glowed, and your hands a bit, as I recall, and they just... kind of came out and reshaped themselves, if that makes any sense.

[superposition]

[ In reality, the first thing Qubit wonders is what the hell a lorry was doing out there. Was it a space lorry, at least? ... Well, either way, that's not remotely like a power tool, so the parameters must be pretty generous. Also, wait, back up - ]

My eyes? [ He sort of points to them, as if to say "These ones?" But yeah, he definitely didn't mishear that. He lingers on Carlisle's eyes (also glowing) for a second - another point in common between their powers? ]

... Huh. [ He'll have to keep an eye out for that. (So to speak.) ]

[ For now, his attention returns to the comm in his hands, or more precisely to the strange, inaudible hum it gives off. So far, that feeling is the only interface to his power that he's cognizant of. But ... what if he can use it? Does the interface go both ways? ]

I wonder...

[ Closing his eyes, he brings his complete focus to bear on the odd sensation or at least, as much focus as he can muster on two hours of sleep. There's a definite directionality to it, he thinks, and a magnitude, but... that's not the only thing that characterizes it, he realizes. It's not just a generalized sensation of "tech." There's more to it. Signal buried in the noise. It's faint at first, like trying to pick out a tune from across a busy highway, but the longer and more intently he concentrates, the stronger and more distinct it becomes.

His eyes snap open, and he lets out an incredulous chuckle. ]

No. It can't really be that easy?

[ Apparently so, if the vibrant glow in his eyes tells you anything. ]