Qubit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superposition) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
redshiftlogs2020-07-01 01:14 am
superposition) wrote in redshiftlogs2020-07-01 01:14 am
[open, backdated to May] like i'm losing my mind
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
[ OR: PM or hit me up on Discord (Kae#6067) for plotting or another prompt! ]
What:
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. ]
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?
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. ]
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! ]
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[ ... 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.
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[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.
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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? ]
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[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.
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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. ]
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It often is when you find your true calling. Magic is the same way — when one discovers a latent talent, it comes to us as naturally as breath. One of the proudest moments of my life.
[He doesn't know if it's the same for Qubit, but the chuckle tells him that it's at least a welcomed development.]
How does it feel?
1/2
Hah-! I'll have to get back to you on that. Hang on a tick, I think I've just about...
[ And then he sort of forgets to finish his sentence. Sorry, Carlisle, but this requires his absolute concentration.
His hunch was right. This "sixth sense" he has isn't just a passive receiver - it's an active instrument, which he can direct and tighten and focus at will. And as he does, the machine's unique tune resolves into a melody - no, a harmony, a purposeful arrangement of components, interconnected and working together in concert, even if he can't identify any of them. But it goes even further, doesn't it? Each of those subsystems is built out of subsystems, after all. It's like studying an orchestra and realizing every instrument contains another orchestra. And he can dive into those, too, just as readily.
Deeper and deeper he recurses, hardwired logic unfolding around him like a fractal. He barely even notices when the comm leaves his hands, his power suspending it in midair over his palms. Millions and millions and millions of pathways open up before him, and his mind pours through and around them, expanding to fill all available space, annexing the system into himself.
It really is that easy. The whole process only takes a few seconds, and then the comm might as well be part of him. Qubit glances to Carlisle for half a second, grinning eagerly. ]
Carlisle, I've got it!
[ It's a bit strange, like gaining an unfamiliar limb, but not altogether unpleasant. And there's still more he can do. Bolstered by his success, he makes an experimental attempt to move it. Not with any creative goal in mind - it's more like flexing a muscle just to see if he can. ]
2/2
Now, even normally, the reshaping process looks pretty uncanny. The materials Qubit works with are supposed to be rigid, usually, but he can manipulate them as if they're no more solid than wet clay. That, combined with the fact he doesn't have to be touching them, gives the process an incongruously organic quality, almost as if he's granting the machine a life of its own, allowing it to shape itself into whatever he wants it to be.
But that's when he knows what he's doing.
The comm does respond to his will. But since his will is ambiguous, the only way it can respond is with undefined behavior. An almost liquid ripple travels down its whole length - but from there it just deforms at random. The keys scatter across the surface, the screen crumples and turns inside-out. Along one edge, jagged corners of bare circuitboard protrude from the case, fusing seamlessly with the plastic. And so on.
Meanwhile, and just as suddenly, Qubit's grin transforms into a puzzled frown. ]
Oops.
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He stifles that feeling, wanting to enjoy the moment for what it is, but then something goes wrong, and rather than reshaping into a usable, elegant tool, the communicator puts itself back together as an unrecognizable mess.]
Well, that... hm. [Yes, that certainly is something.] If nothing else, at least you are now aware of how to manifest your abilities. It's a start.
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Well, hang on, I was getting somewhere.
[ His power's still active. The ex-comm is still there in his awareness, even if the "sound" of it has gone sour. He doesn't feel any pain or discomfort from breaking it, at least, but he can tell things are severely scrambled in there, and he doesn't want to leave it that way. ]
If I can just... put it back the way it was...
[ The device starts to flex and deform again, with a little more purpose this time. He knows roughly what he wants. But even so, "putting it back" is much easier said than done. How did it work? How were the components arranged, how were they connected? What did each of them do? He doesn't have the faintest idea. He tries to work it out from what's left, his power digging clumsily into the circuitry and pulling it apart in the uncertain hope that it'll help him put it back together.
It's quickly apparent that's not going to work. The unrecognizable mess isn't just cobbled together, it's actually fused in some places, and trying to pull it apart is like... well, like trying to separate two colors of play-doh. It's basically impossible, and also sort of gooey-looking. ]
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magictechnomancy technokinesis' grasp.]I suppose I don't need to tell you that that's, ah. Not how it was.
[Yes, that much is obvious.]
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[ I don't need to tell you he's being sarcastic. He's quickly realizing that, even with psychic powers, fixing electronics is going to be a lot more involved than breaking them. It would appear he does, in fact, need to know what he's doing. Right now, the only thing he's getting out of this exercise is a headache. He keeps at it a moment longer, but finally straightens up and sighs. ]
I'll... come back to it.
[ He's not giving up! Just... reluctantly postponing. It takes some effort to tear his focus away, but squeezing his eyes shut helps, and when he opens them, they've faded back to their normal hazel. Of course, drawing his power back also makes the device stop levitating - Qubit tries to catch it, but he isn't quick enough, and the mangled pieces clatter onto the floor. ]
Damn-! [ Just gonna start quickly gathering those up, don't mind him. ]
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I suppose the levitation is a part of the technokinesis. The exact boundaries of your abilities still elude me, so I suppose we may discover them together for the time being.
[He stoops to gather up a few of the bits himself, collecting them in his gloved hands. Now that Qubit isn't as distracted, he tries again with his earlier question.]
How did it feel?
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[ If Carlisle wants a real answer, he'll need a second to think. He exhales slowly, then shakes his head. ]
God. I... words fail me, Carlisle. It felt...
[ He finds a little fragment of circuitry in his hand, and holds it up between thumb and forefinger, examining it as he speaks. But not too closely. ]
... I could see everything. The whole inner workings of it, down to the finest detail. It was like an extension of myself. I was in absolute control.
[ In a word - incredible. There's a guarded eagerness to his tone of voice, a morbid fascination barely held in check by his better judgment. Carlisle might find it familiar - Look at this. It's taking itself to pieces trying to get at me. I've never seen one so aggressive...! ]
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Carlisle does his best not to look disappointed — he's not, or not with Qubit's answer so much as his own, ever-present frustration. This is one of the rare times he's felt like he could ask Qubit for an honest answer, and actually receive it with no attempt to avoid the question or dance around the subject as Qubit picks and chooses what he feels he should say. There's something about that that stings. It cuts through the numbness Carlisle feels, and rather than getting to live vicariously through Qubit's description of his own powers, he is instead left with the usual bitterness that he cannot just accept what modicum of trust he's been allowed. It should be enough, shouldn't it? Isn't it all he deserves?
He sighs quietly as he tries to stifle his conflict with familiar anxiety. There is much to worry about, after all. At least when the technomancer headed into precarious situations with reckless abandon before, he could reasonably take care of himself — Qubit had his abilities, his wits about him, logically a weapon or two. Now, though he has his technokinesis, he does not know how to fully control it, nor does he know if he has any other defenses. Worst is that he doesn't even know who may or may not be his enemies — and neither does Carlisle.
Resolving that they're going to have a difficult conversation about all this when Qubit reclaims his memory, he offers the pieces he's collected to his companion.]
That sounds utterly terrifying, if I'm to be honest, but I suppose my own magic could be described the same way when I reach into someone. The difference with technology is it is not alive. It is, though... a feeling unlike any other, and I pity those who will never experience it.
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I suppose.
[ Pity seems like a strong word, but it was an experience just now, he won't deny that. Hell, it's the first time since he came to that he's felt in control of anything. And yet... the longer he reflects on it, the more it dawns on him how terrifying it actually is. He studies the palm of his hand, his expression sober. ]
The potential of a gift like this - it's extraordinary. I can see how it might be... intoxicating.
[ His first impulse is to put it through its paces. Once he's mastered it, would there be anything he couldn't create? Logically, there has to be some upper bound - energy doesn't just come out of nowhere, he knows that much. But he wants very badly to find that boundary - to push this strange ability to its limit, and learn what wondrous things it can do.
And yet... He begins sifting through the debris, inspecting the damage from the outside. His potential for creation is mostly theoretical at this point, but he's ably demonstrated his potential for destruction. ]
It seems like a double-edged sword, though. I mean, look at this. If I'm not careful, I could end up doing this to - I don't know. A power plant. Life support. The machines may not be alive, but they're keeping people alive.
[ Apparently, their powers do have some strong parallels. Carlisle is a healer of flesh, and Qubit a healer of steel - but neither of them has much room for carelessness. ]
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Carlisle's own powers are much the same: he can easily reach into someone and use his energies to mend their physical wounds, restoring their body to its peak. However, on the other side of the coin... well, he's seen first-hand what his magic can do to those around him. The decay he leaves behind in moments of duress is evidence enough, if the withered corpses and desecrated landscape of Bear Den were not.]
Ah. That is a burden all talented magicians bear. Or, er. Psionics, I suppose. Whatever the collected term is for them. There is a great deal of responsibility in keeping your energies under control, as what you could do should you lose your grip upon them would be... [He shakes his head — it's a minute movement, unintentional, but one visible enough to someone as observant as Qubit.] Catastrophic, to put it lightly.
[Though he does his best to mask it, Carlisle speaks like someone who knows exactly what kind of catastrophe that would be. He's sure Qubit knows, as well — or the Qubit he knew would, at least.]
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Is that the voice of experience? Carlisle's commented a couple of times on the similiarities between their respective powers - in particular, the subjective experience of using them. Of flooding a system, and asserting complete, fine-grained control -
A realization strikes him suddenly, and he glances up to Carlisle, alarmed. ]
Are you saying - if your control would have slipped -
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I am well-trained as a healer, Mister Qubit, but yes. The results would have been just as unpleasant as what you've done to your communicator.
[Or even more so, but the less this Qubit knows about how badly things go when Carlisle loses his grasp on his abilities, the better. He'll remember in time.]
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... Well. Thank God you know what you're doing.
[ But that's all the further he presses, for better or worse. It's reminded him of something else, anyway. ]
Oh. I forgot to ask, didn't I - what all did you find in there?
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Quite a lot, most of which I'm not entirely sure I can explain.
[But he'll certainly try. Back out comes the journal and the pen — he feels illustrating this on paper might be the simplest way to go about it.]
I didn't sense them at first, but the collection of them in your wrist alerted me to their presence. It was then I could feel them. All throughout you are... something. A lot of somethings.
[He draws an arm — it's not as artistic as his other illustrations by any means, but it'll do. He then puts a line of dots at the wrist, then adds a few more throughout the rest of the drawing.]
When channeling through you, my energy rippled off them like a stream against the rocks in a riverbed.
[He adds some lines around the dots in the arm to represent the aforementioned ripples.]
I think one reason I did not detect them before is that they're more like this...
[He adds a lot more dots. Then more. Then even more dots. 50 DKP minus.]
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And that's not... normal, I take it. [ Just a wild guess. He studies the letters tattooed inside his wrist again, but he can barely make them out. Is it the lighting? ]
What are they, though? Some kind of... foreign contaminant?
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[He caps his pen, tapping it to the front of his mask in a way that says he might chew it if not for the fabric barrier.]
There are ones that seem to protect you, but I'm not certain what these others are for, whether they do much of the same, or something else entirely... or if they're the cause of your memory loss.
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... What do you mean, "protect me," though?
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[Oh that's right, he hasn't really explained what it was he tried on Qubit earlier, and he's not entirely sure how well an explanation will go over with a Qubit who doesn't even remember him. Missing memory or not, he's still an inquisitive individual, and he came to Carlisle for answers. Their previous rapport and trust for one another was all he had to go on, and Carlisle isn't sure how comfortable he is betraying that when asked so directly, especially if it may be a case where the somethings protecting his mind are the cause for his amnesia. Carlisle just doesn't know, and the only one who may be able to figure it out is Qubit himself.
And he can only do that if he has as much information as possible. Carlisle hesitates, twisting the pen in his hands.]
From an aural compulsion — someone stripping you of your will so that you would do their bidding. I already knew it would not affect you — you yourself informed me of that long ago — but I wanted to see how those somethings coursing through you would react.
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