XOqNI

[tongueamok]

Hello, this is Carlisle. I mean, it's not Carlisle as in I'm actually answering you right now, so if you're trying to reply to me at the second, you should probably save your breath because I'm not really here. This is some kind of a recording of my voice, but this is my communicator. I'm going to assume these devices are as common here as they are in other places — not my world, but others, ones more technologically advanced than where I come from— so if you'd like to leave me a message, then you may do so here, or er... Right. Here is fine. So just leave yo— [beep]

Comments

[einselective]

[It's only about then that she really notices his discomfort. Giving him a distinctly unimpressed look, in about the same tone as her earlier talk about his poor voice message, she remarks flatly:]

Let me guess. The closest thing to technological advancement where you're from is rubbing two sticks together to make fire.

[Marian, this is not how you talk to someone who's trying to help you.]

[tongueamok]

Why would you use sticks when you have magic or sunstones at your disposal?

[That doesn't really answer the question, and yet it does.]

[einselective]

[Says it all, really. Marian closes her eyes briefly, scrunching her face up and putting one hand to her forehand, intangibly pained.]

Oh of course. Why would anyone do anything else?

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle mutters something to the tune of 'barbaric,' but continues working, filling his pen and starting on the glyph. Despite being less intoxicated, it seems his linework has not improved -- it's arguably worse with the way his hand trembles every now and then, but apparently, a clean circle isn't entirely needed, so long as it's vaguely in the correct shape.]

The place I was before being brought here had a lot of technology, as well. I- I learned not to trust it in most cases. You will have to forgive my nerves.

[einselective]

Oh for goodness' sake.

[The urge to just grab the pen out of his hands and correct at least that terrible circle is very strong. She manages to resist, but more out of residual caution about close physical proximity than anything.

Though, thinking on it, if he's not a fan of technology, having her device taken by him isn't exactly something she'll ever have to fear.]

You were somewhere else before you were even brought here? Describe it.

[tongueamok]

It was a ship of some sort. The Tranquility. It traveled through the stars rather than the seas.

[Talking seems to help keep his mind off the machinery all around him; his penmanship improves, albeit marginally.]

It was a little like this place in that everyone there had been taken from their own worlds and times, but rather than trapped in a city, we were all aboard this... vessel. Everything was so smooth, metal. Inorganic. Unnatural. And yet, it was said to be alive.

[einselective]

A spaceship. With AI?

[Marian muses at first. A manned Mars mission is the furthest anyone had gone in her time. And the stars.... Points of light and potential for life, throwing out energy into the vast cosmos, radiation and gravitational forces.

And yet, in time, somewhere, she knows there's a place where the stars are all dead, leaving one with nothing to do but stare into the void of endless darkness...

She shivers, staring blankly as Carlisle continues to work.]

[tongueamok]

[Make that two of them shivering: Carlisle shakes his head, remembering the ship, the crash, and the awful compulsion in his mind all that time far too clearly.]

Though I'll admit I don't know what an 'eh aye' is, I'd rather not remind myself how far I am from home.

[He finishes his glyph, and deems it good enough after giving it a once-over. He moves the jar onto the paper himself, gauging how much liquid is inside.]

[einselective]

Artificial Intelligence. [Marian absently clarifies in a mumble regardless before adding:] Sorry it's so cold in here. I don't think the thermostat [or well, whatever passes for it in these odd dwellings] is working.

[It's actually fairly warm with all the extra lighting; Marian's been bringing in more lamps every time she finds more in the shops too.]

[tongueamok]

It's— nevermind.

[He'd rather not clarify why he was shivering.]

Artificial intelligence would... be like a construct then?

[einselective]

I wouldn't know what you even consider a 'construct'.

[On the other hand, how do you even start with someone so deeply ignorant about the fundamental technological basis of modern society.]

AI doesn't have to have any sort of body, if that's what you mean. Just a very complex set of instructions written into a machine, allowing it to learn independently. No 'magic' involved, and no real life. Hence the 'artificial'.

[tongueamok]

I have only just heard of this thing, and I already hate it.

[Because yes, it does sound like a construct, though constructs do have bodies. The instructions written into something, as well as the possibility it can learn independently, are close enough.

Deciding how much energy he needs to pour into the glyph, Carlisle returns to the point where he'll be placing his hands.]

Constructs include any sort of golem or automata, though it branches as far as living traps and fleshbeasts, though the latter is technically an undead. Constructs have no innate energy, no lives of their own, and yet, they live.

[einselective]

[Just as much as Carlisle doesn't want to hear about technology, the first thing that came to Marian's mind when he said it was 'golem'. And the explanation was, indeed, just as stupid as she suspected.]

Hmph. Tell me, what do people who can't use "magic" do with their lives, where you're from?

[tongueamok]

[Her tone draws Carlisle from his guesstimations, his eyes meeting hers.]

Plenty, actually. It's not a skill everyone has. My uncles for example, were hunters, men who culled the land of dangerous beasts and abominations. One was a very talented magician, while the other hadn't a drop of magical energy at his command. It was the latter who was the better glyphcrafter of the two, however. And he was a fine warrior.

[He gestures to the rest of the room.] I assume your 'technology,' no matter how nefarious it may seem at times, is a tool where you come from. Magic is a tool where I come from. Either way, they are tools to be used, but not everyone is skilled with those tools in the same way.

[einselective]

"A tool anyone can use, if they're inclined. And doesn't drain their life force..."

Not unless something goes terribly wrong, anyway. It says something for how she's starting to get settled in that it's easy to start off as if everything is still fine where she's from. Everything just happened so fast.

She stares sourly at the jug of water instead of meeting Carlisle's gaze in any way whatsoever.

[tongueamok]

[He rolls his eyes.]

It would only kill the absolutely foolish. I'm sure tools in your world could do the same, when used incorrectly.

Oops I mixed my prose with my brackets, GJ

[einselective]

[She's standing back so there isn't anything to drum her fingers on, so instead she folds her arms across her chest.]

Are you going to get on with this or not?

Iiii didn't even really notice. Too distracted by dem new icons!

[tongueamok]

Yes, yes.

[Explaining magic to non-magical folk always seems to frustrate him, but on with his work he goes. Just as before, he places his hands on the glyph and the lines light up energy pouring into them like water through a channel. He has to push a bit more into it this time -- a lot more liquid to imbue -- but the drawing illuminates fully, giving the contents of the jug a soft glow for a moment or two before all the light fades away.

He steps back, flexing his fingers, watching the steam rise from the container.]

You must sleep as well as I do if you need all this.

[Which is to say 'not well at all.']

[einselective]

[It's not hard to recognize the signs of continuously poor sleep, and Marian can't help but recall the state of mild inebriation last time she'd met him, too... a quote-unquote-'solution' proposed several times.

Instead of going for the second jug sitting by the chair she gives him a second, more considering look. She's never been quite sure what to think of the the idea that Fear thinks opening the door will help him. That maybe a certain type of people are being targeted to be brought through the Door.]

An interim measure. I'm sure it'll pass in time.

[Actually she isn't at all sure about that, from the sounds of it.]

All I need to do is be able to focus on my work for long enough.

[tongueamok]

[It will pass, she says. Carlisle has told himself the same thing many times, but is still waiting.]

Long enough? Long enough for what? Until you need to sleep again?

[einselective]

Until we can find a way ...back to our own worlds.

[She doesn't sound sure about that either. It's the goal. It's maybe not her goal, but as far as that goes... Marian doesn't really know any more.

Still with a bit of a thoughtful look, she pauses before asking:]

Do you want to go back?

[tongueamok]

[Hearing her uncertainty makes Carlisle a little more inclined to answer honestly. It's a question he's thought long and hard upon, and he still doesn't rightly know the answer.

Or perhaps he does, and he's just afraid to admit it.]

I don't know. The world I go back to is... not much better than this place. And that's if I go home rather than back to where I was before being brought here.

[einselective]

There's ...worse places to be.

[Marian agrees obliquely.]

But for those who do want to go back... I think they should get a chance, don't you?

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle sighs, rubbing soreness out of his fingers. He might not be sure if he wants to go home, but he knows plenty of people who do, Glacius included. To deny them that chance would be cruel, indeed.]

I suppose. Perhaps you are more altruistic than I am, in that you would work so tirelessly for such an endeavor. I admit that traveling between worlds is not something I'm entirely familiar with, however.

[einselective]

I wouldn't say familiar is the right word for it. But it's at least a goal to work towards.

I'm surprised magic doesn't have that one all wrapped up already, considering that's what half the city seems to think the Door is.