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

[tongueamok]

I have made it for others, and one of my students knows the glyph herself, but I tend to leave the actual handling of other people to... well, other people.

[Getting out of his house is also scary.]

For example, I let Kate at the clinic deal with handing out those healing trinkets we make. I just provide the energy for them.

[einselective]

If it's a permanent enchantment, there's no reason not to leave some at the clinic. Or the bar, for that matter, for those who want to remain anonymous still...

...wait, you have students here?

[tongueamok]

Two.

[Three if he's counting Frisk, which he's not because he is not teaching a child. They're just observing and happening to pick up a few things here and there. They are not his problem.]

As it turns out, some people from other worlds are compatible with the magic from mine, and it seemed an interesting and useful experiment to determine whether or not they were capable of learning such skills at all.

[einselective]

[This sounds like a terrible idea. In more ways than one.]

Useful...

[Marian hesitates, not really sure how to address this... finally settling for 'not at all']

Never mind. And, well, regardless of your thoughts on providing a community service... I would certainly appreciate your help for personal use for.... uh, a while.

[tongueamok]

That, I can do.

[For a clergyman, he's not big on community service.]

If you'd like, I could come to you, or you could come to my dwelling. Bring whatever sort of container it is you find to keep it in with you.

[einselective]

If you came here, it would work out a little better. [Among other things she wouldn't have to haul a large jug of water halfway across the city. She's getting too old for that kind of lifting, especially considering she's already always got a good ten pounds of hardware carried around on her back.] I'm a couple houses down from the clinic, at the old lab.

[voice] → [action]

[tongueamok]

I will be there shortly, then.

[He doesn't know where the 'old lab' is, but he does know where the clinic is due to his aforementioned dealings with the healing trinkets. In good news, he looks significantly less intoxicated than the last time she saw him.

He's still as nervous as ever though: he's pretty sure he saw some kind of technology in the building through the window, and he's not sure how he feels about that. What is it that they keep in labs, again?]

[action]

[einselective]

[When Marian opens the door, the first answer appears to be 'junk'. Anything scrounged from the stores with the metal, wiring, or circuitry is piled up in the entrance. Not one for pleasantries, she doesn't even bother with a hello.]

Close the door behind you.

[is about the best invitation that can be expected.

Once there's a fridge, microscope, computer, blackboard with a whole bunch of math... and between herself and Alphys the rest of the place has turned into disassembly central, with bits of wires, chips, and metal all sorted into piles and bins. And on what appears to be Marian's side (due to neatness and a lack of anime figures) a couple tidy stacks of papers with more diagrams and mathematical formulae written neatly and precisely.

There's also a couple mismatched but good-sized jugs, emptied and filled with water, sitting beside her chair.]

Do you need a pen? I assume from what you've described so far the exact materials don't matter.

[tongueamok]

[Disassembled or not, the junk in building is an intimidating sight for someone who considers the microwave to be a technological nightmare from a future that he can only hope will not come to pass in his world. He grips his satchel tighter as he follows Marian to her space, his eyes darting around the room fearfully.]

Er, no. I have, ah. I have my own pen. Exact materials do not matter, indeed. One could, um. Inscribe a glyph on anything they chose, really.

[einselective]

[Marian shifts some of the papers around and clears a few bins of wires out of the way to clear a larger space on the desk, hefting one of the jugs up and onto the desk with a heavy 'thunk'. Oblivious to Carlisle's discomfort (preoccupied with her own disgruntlement about 'magic'), she steps back to give him enough space to do his thing, gesturing at the jug.]

All yours.

Even though she watched it carefully the first time, she'll keep an eye on it again this second time around. One good night's sleep doesn't help that much when you've been running on empty for so long, but she at least feels slightly more alert this time. Maybe there was something she missed.]

[tongueamok]

Ah, right.

[Carlisle fishes through his satchel, getting a sheet of paper and his pen. He doesn't seem bothered by Marian's observation, but rather nervous from all the machinery around him. His hand shakes as he pulls out a small jar of ink to fill his pen.]

I, um. Assume you like technology of s- some sort?

[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.