OVERWATCH WING-3
OFFICE OF O5-3
/input lavidaeterna.cif
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>input requested, proceed :
>does the black moon howl?
only when the universe goes pitch-black and there is nothing to lament
>should we forgive our creators?
not before they are hanged
>security credentials confirmed.
>welcome, 05-3.
>you have one (1) new email
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| from: | ten.hctawrevo|inajeto#ten.hctawrevo|inajeto |
| to: | ten.hctawrevo|35o#ten.hctawrevo|35o |
Inspector,
I believe we ended our last talk quite abruptly.
As I was saying, the trial for Administrator Williams is currently underway.
Williams is being tried under the Pataphysics Department's Code of Ethics' fifth article, which considers major alterations to the narrative that occur due to the actions of an on-duty member of the department worthy of trial, with a maximum penalty of 3 years of imprisonment and demotion.
This investigation has escalated beyond departmental duties due to Francis' position as Administrator.
As per the Overwatch Codes of Obligation's fourth article,
"The individual who holds the seat of O5-3 has the formal duty to perform any and all investigations into their fellow councilmen."
As was to be expected, William's has expunged most information that could incriminate him; nevertheless, you are being formally inquired to begin an official investigation into this matter and to locate any information on the matter.
This email contains Level Six security credentials attached, a level akin to that of the Administrator, with which you will be able to access any information that has not been expunged by him.
A comprehensive report is expected from you by tomorrow.
Godspeed,
— Tejani
BY ORDER OF THE ADMINISTRATOR
The following file is Level 5/CURTAIN CALL classified. Unauthorized access is forbidden.
Select A File To Continue
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/compile files
retrieved successfully
/access Summit25.mp3
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Conference Log
In-Attendance
- Director Francis E. Williams; Site-213
- Director J. Hob Kasha; Prov. Pataphysics Supervisor
- The Jester (O5-4), attending remotely.
<START LOG>
O5-4: —alright, you two. Cut to the chase. No more jargon. I have limited time as is. What do you have for me?
WILLIAMS: 39, bright, but somewhat anxious looking. He adjusts his glasses, runs his hands through his hair, and exhales sharply. He takes a step forward to the camera; he seems to favor his right foot.
WILLIAMS: Right, right. We were getting to that, sorry. I promise, it's worth your time.
A beat.
WILLIAMS: I'm not sure how much you know, about the SWANN Entities, and such. Frankly, we have quite little information about them as well. Frighteningly so. All we currently have is confirmation that they exist, and are somehow inherently tied to our universe, and have some relation with the anomalous. That's mostly it. What are they? What exactly do they do? We don't know. However, if this is a success, if we manage it, that can change. Confirming this, we had Dr. Swann's Theorem, which was, while in itself quite fascinating, incomplete. Swann meant to finish this, but due to his untimely death, could not.
O5-4: The point?
WILLIAMS: So, our staff, mostly me and Jake, have been poring over Dr. Swann's notes, examining every bit, trying to complete the formula. Mostly through hypothesis, building off information he left in his contemporary studies. And we did it! We completed it, and what we found is staggering. Monumental. See, Swann was experienced in anomalous narrative mathematics and anomalous programming, and he'd found something linking the two. Something huge. He had a hypothesis about hypernarrative lines and the cyberspace echelons, and believed they were connected, mainly because of how the codes and the equations corresponded quite well. Through the connections, the links our cyberspace has with the upper echelon, he put forth a seemingly mundane way of navigati—
O5-4: Alright, you've lost me again.
WILLIAMS frowns.
KASHA: It's okay. Let me.
KASHA: 38, bright-eyed, smiling. There are large and small scars crisscrossing his face. The largest one runs over the bridge of his nose, reaching the edge of his right eye.
KASHA: We've been working on a… program of sorts. Developing some codes, corresponding to the Theorem. Broadly speaking, the cyberspace here is connected in some way to them. The SWANN Entities. The program might, hypothetically, enable us to exploit the connection. For observation; surveillance. It may allow us to keep track of their activities, collect data on them, and enable us to get a proper understanding of what they are and how they work. And devise appropriate containment measures—
O5-4: What sort of program is this?
KASHA: It's a little complex. Broadly speaking… it's an interface.
O5-4: An interface?
KASHA: It's—
WILLIAMS: It'll allow us to see them. More specifically, to monitor their activity, like Jake said. The entities have this specific…tell about them. Hum. How do I say this? (pause) Think of it like Google Maps. Yeah. We'll be able to see them, and they won't know about it.
KASHA: (slightly annoyed) Hypothetically.
WILLIAMS: Yes, true.
O5-4: I'm getting a lot of 'maybe's and 'hypothetically's here. Aren't you sure about this? Did you drag me out here for something you think might be possible? I do not appreciate having my time wasted.
KASHA: It's more complicated than that—
O5-4: How exactly will this help the Foundation's goal? Will this help us contain these entities?
KASHA: Observing them, collecting data is necessary before we get to that.
WILLIAMS: We could possibly weaponize the same system to—
O5-4: How would you do that?
A beat.
KASHA: We've got no clue. We haven't reached that stage yet.
O5-4: (sighs) Well, is the program completed?
KASHA: We're still doing the preliminary work, it's in a proto-stage. We're trying to confirm the hypothesis, making sure the codes are all compatible. If we manage to do it properly—
O5-4: If.
Another beat.
O5-4: Director, aren't you an experienced professional? Shouldn't you know better than to drag someone to a project only to waste their time with uncertainty?
KASHA: (flushed) I'm not trying to—
WILLIAMS: Hey, back up. Don't put it all on him. If you want someone to blame, look at me. Research hasn't advanced to the proper stage, but I insisted on consulting you about it. Because it's that big! It's that important.
WILLIAMS pauses for a second.
WILLIAMS: Think, think for a goddamned moment about what this means, to our mission, to the Foundation; instead of pinning it as worthless the moment you hear a mere sliver of it.
O5-4 raises an eyebrow.
WILLIAMS: Every effort for containment begins with observation, does it not? Do I really need to spell it out for you? We know that these… things, whatever they are, have some tie to the anomalous.
Maybe they're causing it, we don't know, but we have an opportunity to find out, even if it's a small one; a thousand-mile journey begins with a single step.
Even if it's just a variable, a slim chance, isn't that what we do here, at the Foundation? Take risks?
O5-4 attempts to talk, but WILLIAMS talks over him.
WILLIAMS: To make peace, to make a better world? And to do that we have to seize our possibilities where we get the chance. We have a chance here. We need understanding in order to do our job, do we not? To Secure, Contain, and Protect?
Even if it's a possibility, shouldn't we take it? I thought you Overseers understood that.
Is your head that far up your own ass?
Silence.
O5-4: You do realize who you're speaking to.
WILLIAMS: Yes, I do. I don't regret it.
KASHA: (frantically) Yes he does. I apologize on his behalf, sir. He didn't mean to— I take full responsibility, I'm sorry—
O5-4 laughs.
O5-4: No, no. It's fine. You must be one of the few people to speak to me like that. It's oddly refreshing. You've got balls on you, I can admire that. We could use someone like you in a leading position.
WILLIAMS: Th— Thank you.
O5-4: This is quite an intriguing development, and what you said… Well, it's true. I'll be sure to inform the rest of the council. See what they think of it. In the meantime, forward any updates to me.
KASHA: Ok— Understood, sir. Thank you.
O5-4 exits the virtual terminal. The recorder continues to run for an additional few minutes.
KASHA: (Out of breath) Oh my god, you—you! (Sighs) I don't even know what to say.
A beat.
KASHA: What the fuck just happened?
WILLIAMS: What? What do you mean?
KASHA: You! You just did. I mean, what the fuck was that? Do you realize what you just did? What were you thinking? That was a fucking Overseer. You could've gotten us both fired! Or killed!
WILLIAMS: It worked out, didn't it?
KASHA: By sheer luck! I don't— (Shakes head) No, you're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have exploded like that. A lot just happened. I'm still processing it. I mean, the point still stands, though. I could've handled it. You're lucky he decided not to take it personally. Why'd you do that, Franz?
WILLIAMS does not respond.
KASHA: (In a softer voice) Just warn me before you go pulling stunts like that. I could've handled it, man, c'mon. We planned this out, didn't we? I was supposed to lead the presentation. You were talking over me, please don't do that again. I can stand up for myself, you know. This isn't— Nevermind. You need to stop pulling stuff like that, OK?
WILLIAMS remains silent.
KASHA: C'mon, say something.
Silence.
KASHA: Franz, look, what do you call a frog that meditates?
A beat.
KASHA: Hermit the Frog! Ha. Get it? (pause) Not funny? OK. You know, I've always wanted to tell you something. I mean I have to say it. I love you like I loved your mother.
WILLIAMS rolls his eyes.
KASHA: (In a British accent) Hey, hey, Willieboy, don't you go rolling your eyes at me like that. I'll do you worse than I did Matt Chen when I caught him getting all hot and bothered with your personnel file—
WILLIAMS lets out a chortle.
WILLIAMS: Chen? Could you go lower than that?
KASHA claps his hands and lets out a loud oinking noise. WILLIAMS chuckles. Eventually, the moment leads to silence.
KASHA: Hey, man. I just wanted to ask— How've you been holding up? Are you alright?
WILLIAMS looks away from KASHA, his gaze fixating on the blackboard behind them, lined with equations.
WILLIAMS: I'm fine.
KASHA: Okay.
A few minutes pass in silence.
KASHA: You know you can tell me anything, right? If… if you're going through anything, if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. Please, Franz, I've felt like you've been kind of closed off, lately, ever since—
WILLIAMS: Don't.
KASHA: Franz—
WILLIAMS: (Loudly) I said don't. What the fuck's wrong with you? I said I'd rather—
Footsteps, followed by a faint click, can be heard.
The recording cuts out.
<END LOG>
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/access fileXXXX.scp tags=latest
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SCP-XXXX FILE REV.001 (UPDATED 19/5/30)
Item #: xxxx⠀
Level 5
⠀
Object Class:
thaumiel
Disruption Class: erloschen
Risk Class: caution
SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES
SCP-XXXX may only be run with the Overseer Council's majority approval, and only personnel with level 6 clearance or their designated delegates may utilize it.
Personnel currently authorized to utilize SCP-XXXX include, but are not limited to:
- Dir. J. Hob Kasha
- The Administrator
- The Overseer Council in its entirety
Accessing SCP-XXXX without proper clearance will result in the rapid deployment of Mobile Task Forces Alfa-1 (Red Right Hand) and Rēsh-1 (Firebird), both of which have been authorized to engage in lethal combat.
DESCRIPTION
SCP-XXXX (development name ARTISSCHEN), is a piece of software developed by the SCP Foundation's department of Pataphysics, accessible from a single terminal located in the Overseer Council's Primary Meeting Room, Site-01.
ARTISSCHEN's primary function is to carry out a process that results in the neutralization of a chosen SWANN entity.
ARTISSCHEN had been worked on by the Administrator while he was a Site Director, and did not become fully finished until his ascension after the fact. It is then that it went from a simple surveillance tool to a fully-fledged pataphysical eigenweapon.
[INFORMATION HAS BEEN WITHDRAWN FROM THIS PAGE, IT IS THUSLY NO LONGER CONSIDERED UP TO DATE. IT WILL UNDERGO MAJOR REVISION SHORTLY] — RAISA⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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/access dossier "charlietango"
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PERSONNEL DOSSIER
FRANCIS E. WILLIAMS
Williams' parents died early in his childhood. Francis was taken into the foster system and lived in various Massachusetts and New Hampshire orphanages. During these early years, Williams was prone to anxiety attacks and often became unresponsive after one.
Williams met Jacob H. Kasha during their stay at a Boston orphanage, where the two quickly became friends.
General Information
DoB: 14/5/1987
POSITION: Administrator (Formerly Site Director)
CLEARANCE LEVEL: 6
(Cosmic Top Secret)
APPOINTED ON: 13/5/2011.
Francis' early teenage years were frequently spent studying physics and mathematics and encouraging Kasha to do the same. At the ages of 17 and 16, the two were taken into Foundation custody, and they finished their studies at high-level colleges.
Williams was promoted to Administrator with 76% of voters in favor, 15% against, and 9% abstaining.
Topics such as Francis' contributions to the field of Pataphysics, his leadership skills, and Site-213's successes during his tenure as Director (eg.: Foundation-Wide Narrative Studies Program, with seminars hosted, primarily, by Francis himself; Dissolution of the Disallowance Policy, Amendment of the Sixth Foundation-Coalition Pact, as well as Project AUTUMN RAIN, the precursor to Project CURTAINCALL) were vital to his promotion.
The promotion, while initially set to occur in January of 2027, was delayed at the request of O5-3, noting the number of disastrous events during Williams' tenure (refer to MLB/ARGUS Catastrophe 213, Site-213 Containment Records, Site-213 Bilateral Relations).
After becoming Administrator, Williams provided significant funding to the then-fledgling Pataphysics department, enabling the department to delve deeper into topics such as SWANN entities, which he was interested in; and encouraged the department to expand on Project AUTUMN RAIN, and further on Project CURTAINCALL.
At the time Department Head Jacob Kasha described the progress on Project AUTUMN RAIN as follows:
[…] The result of Project AUTUMN RAIN has allowed the Pataphysics Department to entirely map out the connections that SWANN entities have over our narrative. This has led to the creation of a hub to record each entity's influences and catalog them according to how relevant these are to baseline reality.
Francis himself wrote as follows on the final progress update for Project AUTUMN RAIN:
[…], discovered that higher narratives contain an, almost exact, replica of baseline reality's ontological laws, save for baseline's hume (ξ) levels being higher than those of other narratives.
This complicates taking ontokinetic action on these planes, but it is theorized to be possible, and doable with some extensive modification of ARTISSCHEN. Kahsa and I will closely study the possibility and, if it is deemed plausible, it will be presented to the Council.
[INFORMATION HAS BEEN WITHDRAWN FROM THIS PAGE, IT IS THUSLY NO LONGER CONSIDERED UP TO DATE. IT WILL UNDERGO MAJOR REVISION SHORTLY] — RAISA⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
/access psychology record "charlietango"
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psychological reports contain sensitive information. as such, they are partially protected.
do you still wish to proceed with command?
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/yea
>please input special access code
/access psychology record "charlietango"
"one for many, many for one"
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PERSONAL PSYCHOLOGICAL RECORD #314
FRANCIS E. WILLIAMS
NOTE: A mandatory psychological evaluation was conducted for all surviving personnel from Site-213's mass containment breach. The following is Administrator Williams' evaluation, as conducted by Dr. Kuang, during his time as Site Director.
<START LOG>
KUANG: Okay, it's up. We can start. Good evening, Franz.
WILLIAMS: 37, bright, but somewhat anxious looking. He fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, perhaps feeling distressed. There is a crutch kept next to his chair.
KUANG: Is the chair uncomfortable? We can switch places if you want—
WILLIAMS: N-No, it's fine.
KUANG: Okay, okay. Let me know if you're feeling cramped or anything. Chairs have been untouched since the 1960s, I can't seem to convince the faculty to replace them. Then again, our Waltz has always been sentimental.
WILLIAMS nods, giving a brief, wavering smile.
KUANG: So, how was your day? Was the trip here straining? You got on with the team, I hope. I've been telling them to be more gentle with delivery.
A beat.
WILLIAMS: No, it was fine. The guards were pretty cordial, which wasn't— had not been what I'd been expecting. (Pause) Jake saw me off, actually.
KUANG: Jake? That wouldn't be Jake Kasha, would it?
WILLIAMS: As a matter of fact, it is.
KUANG: I thought you looked familiar. This isn't your first time here, is it?
WILLIAMS: No— well, yes. First time I've been in the chair, at least. I was …at the site for Jake's initial exam.
KUANG: So that was it. You were hanging around Mains when he came in, right?
WILLIAMS: Yes. I wanted to be there for him.
KUANG: Okay. So Jake is here in the Mains today, then.
WILLIAMS: I saw him, and we spoke, but he didn't come all the way here. Just saw me off. I told him not to come. (Pause) Speaking frankly, I'm glad he didn't, he doesn't need to see this.
KUANG: I see.
A beat.
WILLIAMS shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking down at his hands, which are folded on his lap.
KUANG: Nervous? That's understandable. I was always anxious whenever I walked into one of these. Most folks are. That's okay. That's natural. I just want you to know, I'm here to help you. So don't hesitate to tell me if you feel like anything is wrong.
WILLIAMS stares blankly at KUANG, as multiple seconds of silence pass.
KUANG: How have you been doing, these couple of weeks? (KUANG taps the clipboard with a pen) How's the leg?
WILLIAMS: It has been bearable, at the very least. It hurts when I walk or put pressure on it. Gooday said that the pain would get more bearable after a few days.
KUANG: Okay. How have you been sleeping? Any bad dreams?
Another beat.
WILLIAMS: There— there have been a few unpleasant dreams, yes.
KUANG: Does it have anything to do with what happened?
WILLIAMS looks away from KUANG, once more fixing his gaze on his folded hands.
WILLIAMS: Yes.
KUANG: Okay. We don't have to talk about it now if you're uncomfortable—
WILLIAMS: No, it's fine. I'm fine. I can handle it. It's what we're here for, isn't it?
A beat.
KUANG: Okay. Does it correlate with your memory of the breach?
WILLIAMS: It's strange. What happened is very fuzzy in my head. I feel like I can only remember flashes. Of the breach, I mean. Small things. I can't— I can't remember the whole picture. But the dreams— the dreams I can remember vividly. Everything that happened in them, it feels like. It feels like the dreams are reality and what actually happened is a dream. That probably doesn't make sense, does it? I don't think that's how it should work. (Pause) Well, that isn't really an answer, is it.
KUANG: That's fine. Could you describe the dreams to me?
WILLIAMS: I can't quite say how it starts. I think I'm in the reactor room with Darrel when it happens. We were checking on the main servers. I can't remember why— Standard routine, I'm assuming. I think I was there to observe Darrell and see the way it worked. The screens in the room are distorted. I tell Darrell that I'm familiar with the basics and not much else, and he laughs and tells me that's exactly why I am hopeless, or something like that. He started explaining to me what each part of the contraption was; the box with the red lines being the big deal. In the middle of it, there were gunshots, and when Darrell got up to check, the man rushed in. This man. This man with the gun.
KUANG: I'm assuming that's one of the insurgents?
WILLIAMS: I think. I don't know. His face is all messed up. Looking at him, focusing on him, was hard; as if trying burnt a hole through my brain. But then again, I suppose it hardly matters which one of them he was. He has a gun on him, and he's waving it around, and shouting something. It doesn't sound like speech. It's just this garbled gravelly noise. Sounded like static.
Darrell was shouting something, screaming for help maybe. The man leveled the gun at me, while I stood there, stupidly saying nothing, doing nothing. That's when Darrell leaped at the guy, knocked him down. They both started grappling for the gun. Darrell shouts at me to run, but I just stand there. Several shots are fired; some of the bullets get the two of them, and some hit the valve box. The one with red lines. It started steaming, and the screens started blaring a warning sign, just before half of the system just exploded. Fire spread in the room, alarms began going off. Everything was bathed in red light. The klaxon sounded like someone laughing, and I think that's what finally shook me out of my paralysis. I bolted out of the room, and into the corridors, calling for help.
Even as I ran, I heard what sounded like… explosions. As I reached the end of the corridor, I saw the walls just ahead crumbling as this creature burst through them. This black creature burst through the walls, as it tore something to pieces in its mouth with a horrible chittering noise.
And then there was screaming, then I was stuck in a crowd of what seemed like thousands of people running, pushing, trying to get away. Some people were shooting at the creature, but it kept moving, tearing through them, dismembering them into pieces, dragging them back and into its maw. I was trying to get away too, but there were all these people, pushing and pulling and screaming, and it was just this overwhelming feeling of immobility. And the creature just kept tearing through them all.
I could hear more of those explosions; the ground felt as if it was shaking as if the walls were going to come down. I struggled through the crowd and eventually stumbled my way into a mostly isolated area. The alarms were still blaring. The explosions were still occurring. I prepared myself to run out or to find the bunkers and huddle down there, but I remembered Jake was still in there. I'd last seen him in the cafeteria. He would be facing this. Stuck in a crowd, stuck in panic, unable to save himself. I mustered my strength. I got my hands on a firearm, though I'm not certain how, and I started blindly dashing through the rooms, halls, and corridors; trying to make my way to the cafeteria.
I remember seeing blood covering everything. Bits of flesh on the walls. I heard explosions, each one closer to where I was, rattling the whole place. I could hear screaming, sobbing, begging, praying. Then gunshots. People crowding, pushing, trying to get to safety in a blind panic, trampling over each other.
Each time I thought I was close, I realized I was further and further away. I was stuck in this labyrinth, with no thread to guide me.
I remember at one point I saw the reflections and shadows in a hall come to life and slaughter a group of guards even as they shot at it desperately. I remember seeing thousands of eyes on the walls and rows of gnashing teeth on the doors and the floors, slurping down the blood and flesh of those who were caught. At one point, I remember finding Elias, a senior, and asking him about what was going on, then seeing the tendrils wriggling through his ears. I shot him.
I remember seeing Cleo getting dragged away by the obsidian creature. A group of researchers attacking each other, tearing their own limbs apart, tearing into their own flesh with their teeth. I saw James, Karl, Hadi, Adrian, Iris. All of them, dead. When I finally reached the cafeteria, I got one glimpse of Jake, huddled behind the counter, before the walls shook and I looked up as the ceiling crashed down on me. I was trapped under a pile of rubble then, my leg throbbing, my whole body screaming with pain. I think I broke some ribs as well.
When I finally opened my eyes, lying directly next to me was a corpse. I can see it now. I can see it anytime I close my eyes, standing in front of me. The flesh was mostly gone, the remaining bits of muscle clinging to the skull. One of the eye sockets was hollow, and something was moving inside.
Little things, like maggots.
WILLIAMS stops. Closes his eyes.
WILLIAMS: They crawl over the bones, behind the eyes, squirm in the remaining bits of flesh, in its neck, its cheeks, up its forehead. These fat, green maggots —leeches— were pulsating and swelling as they fed on the body, as they leeched off the last drops of blood, the last ounce of flesh and muscle on the thing. I watched as they grew fatter and fatter, swollen to the point of bursting, and… changing.
Turning into these flowers. These violet flowers sprouted out from its eyes, stretched out from the mouth, each crevice on the body was flooded with violet; stems reaching into the air, towards the glimmer of light shining through the rubble.
Born from blood.
There was something unsettling, something ugly about them that I cannot place. I managed to move a little, under the weight of the debris. And I saw the tag on the body. The ID tag. It was my name on it. My exact name. And this feeling washed over me, this coldness; I remember thinking, "This is how I die. This is how we all die."
WILLIAMS buries his face in his hands. There is an extended beat of silence. KUANG gives WILLIAMS a commiserating look.
WILLIAMS sniffs, straightening, trying to compose himself.
WILLIAMS: That's usually when it stops. (Pause) I don't know how much of it is real. I don't know if any of it is real. I can't remember it, I just can't. It's like… like there's a block in my head, and anytime I try thinking about it it just goes out of reach. But, they died, didn't they? They died. I could've— I should've gotten a hold of it, but I didn't. I could've stopped it all from happening. I was there, and I could've stopped it! But I didn't. Now, they're all dead. I could've stopped it. I couldn't even protect Jake, couldn't stop it from—
KUANG: No, you couldn't have, Franz, what could you have done? This was a mass breach. Dozens of lethal anomalies were released; you would have gotten yourself killed if you'd tried. Many factors led to it, it's not your fault. (Pause) I'm going to give you a list of medications. Show it to the clerk at the front desk at the pharmaceutical division, she'll supply it. Take one every day. I'm also recommending weekly sessions with me, moving forwards.
A beat.
WILLIAMS remains silent.
KUANG: Franz, I'm here to support you, to help you. We can work it out between us, make sure it gets better. You have to trust me; this is serious. It is imperative that you do this.
Another beat.
WILLIAMS takes a deep breath.
WILLIAMS: A— Alright.
<END LOG>
Correspondences To Site-94, Richard Kuang/No-12/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[It must also be stated] Sb. 5, Dir. Francis E. Williams has not reported to me or attended planned meetings with me. I'm certain that he is suffering from severe trauma, after being exposed to [such an event]. I understand that both he and Sb. 3 have been inducted into your department. It would be helpful if you could talk to him, and convince him to continue these sessions, Abbie. It would be […]
as of this moment, further files could not be retrieved, please try again later
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/access o5Summit1678.mp3
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Excerpt From Overwatch Conference #1678
In Attendance
- Administrator Francis E. Williams, SCP Foundation;
- The First (O5-1),
- The Gardener (O5-2),
- The Inspector (O5-3),
- The Jester (O5-4),
- The Bishop (O5-6),
- The Designer (O5-7),
- The Archivist (O5-8),
- The Interloper (O5-13).
<START LOG>
O5-8: —alright, it's recording. Ahem. Today is the 19th of May, 2029. This is O5-8 —the "Archivist" if you will— speaking. We're going to be observing the "Pata Summit" of the Council, as Four likes to call it. This time around it's about the recent observations made by the ARTISSCHEN program. The time is approximately 1245, and about… Half, I think? Of the council have shown up. I doubt the rest will be showing up anytime soon—
O5-4: Lexie, darling, you know you don't need to bother doing that. It's just a waste of time.
O5-8: Well, procedure must be followed. And I don't particularly care what you think is a waste of time.
The Jester rolls his eyes.
O5-8: As I was saying, I doubt the rest are showing up anytime soon. We can start a preliminary discussion.
O5-4: Bravo. And here I was thinking we were going to spend another 5 hours for your warm-up speech.
O5-8: Alright, what do we have?
WILLIAMS: The runs on ARTISSCHEN have been going well. It's revealed a lot of information, and much of the data is… somewhat troubling. They're still processing a lot of it.
There is a whirring sound as The Archivist activates several holographic panels, one to take note of WILLIAMS' words, and another displaying extra information relevant to the discussion.
O5-8: Expand on that.
WILLIAMS: Through the program, they've mapped out most of the hypernarrative links, and it's confirmed a lot of Swann established and more. These entities, while we're still not 100% certain what they are, have an extranarrative impact on our world. In particular, they are infranarratively and ultranarratively dense. Or, more broadly speaking, they're narratokinetic, it seems, and unlike what Swann believed, there's a lot of them. Thousands. Millions, maybe. Each having a different narrative impact, vast amounts of supranarrative, infranarrative, and hypernarrative linkages that enable them to warp narrativity and dimensional stability to ensure singular—
O5-4: Ok, first of all, that's way too many 'narratives' you've shoved in there. And I'm not sure what half of it meant.
O5-8: (Sighs) Don't mind him.
O5-4: What? His explanation has to make sense for those of us who aren't computers desperately trying to come off as human.
O5-8: Unlike you, most of us are able to understand basic pataphysical terminology—
WILLIAMS: It's alright. (Pause) What it means is these entities, whatever they are, have deep-rooted, complicated metaphysical connections with our narrative. They're the cause of it. The anomalies. We've managed to link about 50% of recorded anomalies to these entities, and the count might be higher. And worse, they may be exacerbating it.
O5-13: What? How?
WILLIAMS: It's hard to properly define the process. The methods haven't been as well documented. It's similar to ontokinetics and thaumaturgy but not quite. It might be more apt to describe it as how hackers develop viruses and unleash them on programs. Or… like how a writer cooks up a story, then in the process of revising it, adds new details. Picture our reality as the program, as the story, and through this ill-defined method, these entities are embedding anomalies into the system, one after the other, like viruses, slowly destabilizing it, fraying the threads until finally, system collapse.
A murmur passes through the group. After a brief pause, The Designer speaks up.
O5-7: But why? Why would these entities be doing this?
WILLIAMS: Not certain. The current most popular belief is that they're somehow feeding off our reality. That they're gaining energy from this. We've discovered that each entity has a complex supranarrative network of connections to every other entity, and they are increasing in narrative presence each time. Like some hivemind of parasites.
The Overseers look at each other, clearly worried.
O5-4: That is… a lot to take in.
O5-8: Yeah. So this is confirmed?
WILLIAMS: From what we've gathered so far.
O5-8: This is certainly a most intriguing development. Continue the observations, and collect more data. We should study them. We can gain something useful from these entities.
O5-4: Are you fucking kidding me? The cause of our troubles, the very thing this organization stands to protect the world from, is sitting there, making things worse, you want to stand and stare at it?
O5-8: What else could we do?
O5-4: Something. Anything. We can't—
O5-6: Are these entities sapient?
WILLIAMS: They have to be. This kind of energy can only be channeled with a conscious effort.
O5-6: Ok— ok. We can work with that. Maybe they're intelligent enough. We could try communicating with them, try and order a cease and desist? Establish some sort of truce?
O5-4: Really? And how are we going to do that?
O5-6: Through ARTISSCHEN, of course.
O5-4: Is that how it works? I don't think that's how it works.
O5-13: Oh, now you're an expert in what it can and can't do?
O5-4: Yes, became one around the same time you gained your bachelor's degree in idiotics. And besides, what the fuck are we going to say to them? "Hello, this is us. Could you please stop fucking things up? Thanks. Love, the SCP Foundation"?
O5-8: I wouldn't phrase it the way he did, but he has a point. These are 5th dimensional beings. We have not assessed their mental capabilities completely. Their thought processes might be completely alien to ours.
O5-6: How are you sure about that? Why do you think we can't find means of communication with them that are mutually comprehensive?
O5-7: We could build some sort of containment cage for them, perhaps? I don't know.
O5-8: I stand by my statement that we should continue collecting data on them before we take any drastic action. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to observe these creatures. We could learn so much—
O5-4: What in the blasted furnaces of hell do you think we could learn from them?
O5-8: I don't know! But the greatest men of our times made many discoveries through simple observation. Gravity. Penicillin. Scranton Reality Anchors. What do you think the state of the world would be if they'd abandoned their studies midway? There could be a chance of gaining invaluable data here.
O5-4: "Data" this, "data" that, "data", "data", "data". Is that all that fucking matters to you? If you don't know what these things could give us, why do you want to risk it?
O5-8: Damn it, you… you three-eyed bastard—
O5-4: Ooh, savage.
O5-8: —why do you think any good's going to come from us trying to make contact with them or go against them in any way? These creatures are connected to us in ways we can't fully comprehend. Don't you think that could be a risk? I know you aren't one for valuing knowledge, but we should at least properly assess the situation—
O5-4: I'm not one for standing around and doing nothing, that's what I'm not for.
O5-6: We have to do something yes.
O5-7: Yeah.
O5-8: But—
O5-13: That cage idea might work—
O5-6: I think we should still try communication—
O5-4: Is there not one single—
The Council descends into indiscernible, overlapping chatter. WILLIAMS takes a deep breath and rubs his temples as the arguments get louder and louder.
WILLIAMS: All of you. Stop. (Louder) I said, be quiet.
The room falls silent. The Council looks at WILLIAMS, as he stands up from his seat. He makes his way to the front of the table, limping slightly.
WILLIAMS: Is this what has become of this Council?
He pauses.
WILLIAMS: Let me lay a picture for you. We have definite evidence that these entities are making things worse, yes. They're festering the wound, causing more and more anomalies, destabilizing normalcy, destabilizing reality itself.
Every day, the situation gets approximately 0.075% more unstable. Now, that may not seem like much initially, but day after day, month after month, year after year, it will build up. The issue will be compounded, over and over and over and over again. More and more anomalies. More and more Foundation casualties. Civilian casualties. Environmental calamities even, perhaps.
Until the world is flooded with them, with the anomalies, with the blood of everyone who died trying to fight against them. While we sit here, bickering, arguing about what to do? Is this what the mighty Council has come to? Is this what our organization stands for? Like a group of men infested with leeches and ticks and worms, who argue over which way to take to the fucking hospital? Huh? Is that the state we're in?
Silence.
WILLIAMS: These creatures — these things, they're an abomination. A cancerous growth, feeding off of us, draining the world itself. They've caused hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths. Of our noble personnel. Of civilians. Think of the Lizard Incident from '09. The continued infestation in Siberia. The Indiana Incident. The riots in the nexuses. The near-constant containment failures.
How much more can we take, huh? How much more until a total containment failure, until the horrors are unleashed upon the world, in a devastation truly unprecedented?
We don't have any chance of learning anything from them any more than a sick, dying man has a chance to learn something from his disease.
Yes, the Jester is correct on that, at least. Are we going to sit around and watch while they continue feeding on us, growing fatter, more disgusting, with our blood?
What makes you think they can be reasoned with? That they think on any level similar to us? That they have even a minuscule amount of empathy? For us? For anything? They've been leeching off us for god knows how long. If they were reasonable, if they had any semblance of ethics, anything like us, would they be doing this? Wouldn't they stop, knowing what the consequences of their actions are?
No.
They are unreasonable, malevolent, disgusting parasites that have grown gluttonous with our blood. The blood of all those who suffer from these abominations we keep locked up, all those who died because of it. They are the root cause.
We cannot attain proper peace until we get rid of them. Until the irritant is removed, until they are eradicated, we cannot rest in peace. They are the root cause of the anomalous, if we remove them, then the world will heal. (Pause) This is why I move forward with this proposal to properly weaponize ARTISSCHEN. We have the base for it laid down.
It is time we take proper measures to neutralize the threat.
Silence permeates the room, lingering for a few seconds after WILLIAMS stops. Finally, the Jester speaks.
O5-4: Now, that's what we need. Someone with the balls to say it. I'm down.
O5-8: We— we can't just jump to conclusions like that. We haven't acquired the full image, I'm certain of it. This is not the Coalition, we cannot destroy everything we see. I mean, even the Coalition doesn't do that anymore. Need I remind you of our motto—
WILLIAMS: "Secure, contain, protect", yes. But what happens when we can't secure, or contain anymore? What happens when the threat gets too big? We protect. Protection of the public is paramount, and sometimes we have to appropriate distasteful means for it. And this is a chance for us to protect the world from all of it, all the horrors we have under lock and key. To end the threat, once and for all. If we end them, the root of the problem has been destroyed. The anomalies will be gone, once and for all. How many lives have been ruined because of these abominations? Don't you want to take the chance, even if it's a small one?
O5-6: I get what you're saying, but I don't know…
O5-8: Yes. We're working in murky waters here. What you've estimated might not be what occurs. We don't take risks without proper assessment, without making sure we have every little bit of information we need.
O5-3: The Archivist has a point. We can't do things blindly.
O5-2: C'mon Tiān, you can't be serious? This is a gigantic opportunity, and I'm sure the Administrator knows what he's talking about.
O5-4: Yeah, like he said, it could get worse. Much worse.
O5-3: Then we have much to discuss.
O5-1: Yes. We certainly do. It has been a tiresome day, Administrator. We'll hold a full discussion of this with the entire Council before making any major decision. Thank you for bringing this information to us. You should take some rest.
WILLIAMS nods, with a frown.
WILLIAMS: If that's how it is. But do keep in mind that we don't have much time to waste arguing and politicking. Our work has just begun.
<END LOG>
O5 Conference — Vote Summary
VOTES IN FAVOUR
O5-2, O5-4, O5-7, O5-8, O5-9, O5-13
VOTES AGAINST
O5-1, O5-3 , O5-5 , O5-10 , O5-11 , O5-12
ABSTAINS
O5-6
RESULT
TIE
TIEBREAKER VOTE
The Administrator (In Favour)
/access artisschenlog.scp
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>file "artisschenlog.scp" could not be retrieved.
the following note has been found in its place:
mynanokelle@scpfoundation.net:://note the recent repeated usage of artisschen has resulted in multiple ck-class scenarios, last of which had massive consequences in the narrative. the pataphysics department, in conjunction with the ethics committee, have agreed to effective immediately see its usage ceased.
the decision to maintain records of former artisschen activations will be placed in the hands of raisa
this note will be treated as a c&d order, and activation of artisschen will be seen as a major offense
the requested psychological evaluation files were found
do you wish to open them?
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/yea
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PERSONAL PSYCHOLOGICAL RECORD #314
FRANCIS E. WILLIAMS
FOREWORD: Multiple non-standard files (e.g.: e-mails) have been appended to the psychological record due to being relevant context to Francis' psyche.
Confidential Report 01.76/Resh-1/467/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[…] During a conference with Dir. Matthew Chen of the Applied Thaumaturgy Dept., and Dir. Darrell Artiss of the IT Division, while discussing better applications of thaumaturgy and programming on ARTISSCHEN; Administrator Williams suffered a sudden panic episode which left him in a state of hysteria & unable to further the discussion.
Following this incident, the O5 Council grew concerned with Williams' mental health. In order to curb any potential incidents such as this in the future, Dr. Richard Kuang was assigned as Williams' personal psychiatrist due to his prior involvement with the subject; he was directed with organizing weekly psychological evaluations with Williams & providing a bimonthly report to the O5 Council on Williams' conditions.
| from: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh#ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh |
| to: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde#ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde, ten.hctawrevo|nimda#ten.hctawrevo|nimda |
Hey, Franz. Are you OK? What happened? I've been trying to reach you on the phone but you're not picking up so I'm really worried.
Please tell me you're OK. Everyone on the team is really worried. I don't know exactly what happened, no one's telling me, but you have to tell me, OK? Did something happen with Darrell? He looked really upset and wouldn't talk to me. They're not letting me into your office. Just tell me you're OK.
—Jacob Hob Kasha
<START LOG>
KUANG: Good evening. (with a slight smile) It's been a while, hasn't it.
WILLIAMS: now 43, sits in a couch across from KUANG in a slightly stiff posture, head held high. His expression is unreadable.
WILLIAMS: (sighs) Do we really have to do this?
KUANG: (smile fades) Yes. It's necessary. For everyone's benefit, yours most of all—
WILLIAMS: What does that mean? Does the Council think I've gone insane?
KUANG: No, no. Nothing like that. They're just worried for you, that's all. They just think the stress has caught up, its been a tremendous few days. This is just to ensure—
WILLIAMS: They chose me. I am their leader. I lead the Council. I lead the Foundation. Do you think I would be in this position if I couldn't handle minor inconveniences like this? I'm perfectly capable of handling it. I am handling it. This is ludicrous.
KUANG: Franz—
WILLIAMS: Let's be frank, doctor. I remember you well, well enough to know that you and your division have done nothing to contribute to the Foundation in any meaningful way, done no real work but make big claims, and bumble around doing nothing.
KUANG: I see. Why do you think so?
WILLIAMS: Your Oneiromantics, for example.
KUANG: Oh. I'm sorry you feel that way.
WILLIAMS: I know what this is actually about. The proposal. This is your last ditch effort to save your group of quacks—to try and prove you're worth more than you actually are, convince the Council I'm off my rocker so that they annul it. You have taken one event and exaggerated it beyond what actually happened, to slander my name, and dissuade the Council from going forward with it. Am I wrong? You are trying to make people think you're worth something when, in reality, you're—
KUANG: Franz. We have footage of what went down. I can show it to you if you want. I'm not accusing you of anything. However you have to understand the gravity of the situation. You had a complete mental breakdown just seconds into that meeting. This is a serious issue. You've got to take it that way. What if you had harmed yourself? What if you had harmed someone else? Where do you think we would be then? (pause) I'm not doing this because of the proposal—though I would be lying if I said if it didn't upset me, or that I don't want you to change your mind on it.
A beat. WILLIAMS is silent.
KUANG: I know you're the one behind it, and I wish I could convince you to withdraw it, but its out of my hands, out of my field of expertise. If that's the way you think about us, then I don't think that anything i say is going to convince you otherwise. Perhaps you think that way because of your poor experience with us—with me, and that's valid. I understand. We could've nipped this in the bud years ago—but I understand that I made myself unapproachable, that I was too aggressive. I understand. I-I apologise. I do have hope that maybe, once we get to know each other better, once we talk a little, maybe you'll change your mind. I really do want to help you, Franz. But the fact stands—
WILLIAMS: "Help me." So you do think I've gone insane.
KUANG: —the fact stands that the motion hasn't been approved, that its still under deliberation. Maybe you're wrong about us. No, I don't. You haven't gone mad, Franz. This is a normal human reaction. (pause) The Council thinks it's just stress. But it's way more than that. You've been through an extremely traumatic event, and I don't think you've let yourself process it. I believe this happened because you got exposed to a trigger—
WILLIAMS: Trigger?
KUANG: (pause) Can you recall what happened at the conference? It's ok if you don't want to, if you're uncomfortable.
A beat.
WILLIAMS shifts uncomfortably, then sighs. His eyes shift down to the floor.
WILLIAMS: It's a little unclear. Remember getting off the jet, into the room. Then I saw—I remember seeing Artiss. His face. And then… Then flowers. Screaming. B-blood—
Cuts off, as if out of breath. Closes his eyes.
A beat.
Breathing hard, gasping.
WILLIAMS doubles over, hyperventilating. He raises hands to his head, he is sweating.
KUANG: Hey, you don't have to force yourself. Look at me. Franz, look at me.
KUANG tries to reach out. WILLIAMS jerks back.
WILLIAMS: No, I-I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm ok. I'm fine. I'm f-fine.
KUANG: Franz—
WILLIAMS: Stop it! Just-just stop talking.
Silence. Abnormal breathing.
KUANG touches his shoulder, remaining silent. After a while, his breathing resumes normally.
KUANG: It's okay. I'm here. We're going to help you through this, Franz.
WILLIAMS: I'm fine. I said I'm fine. I'm fine.
A beat.
KUANG: There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a normal human reaction. I've had patients with similar problems. You were exposed to an extremely traumatic event, and from what I understand, Darrell acted as a reminder of that, causing—
WILLIAMS: It's settled, then. I just have to avoid him. No need for all of this.
KUANG: No, no, Franz. That's not how it works. This is just one of many issues that could arise if you repress it. You have to confront it, you can't keep ignoring the problem until it gets worse. I'm here to help you do just that. We'll work through this, together. Slowly, bit by bit we'll work through this. I'm here to support you.
Silence.
KUANG: I'm going to recommend you some light medication, to see how you respond to it, alongside some relaxation techniques that I'll show you.
WILLIAMS remains silent.
KUANG: I want you to start journaling. I'll send you a link to a record page we keep. It's fully confidential, and you can change the settings to make sure you're comfortable with it. It will start recording every day at a fixed time. I want you to… express yourself, emotionally. Just talk, talk about anything, anything you're not comfortable sharing with me. It will be locked, I won't be able to read it. It'll help relieve the stress, I feel.
WILLIAMS remains silent.
KUANG squeezes his shoulder.
KUANG: Don't worry, Franz. We'll get through this.
<END LOG>
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM, and your recording session has begun! This is your first recording—]
What?
[—and we hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with—]
I'm not ready—
[—private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
WILLIAMS sighs.
Hi.
Okay, What am I supposed to say? Uh…
A beat.
This is Franz Williams speaking. Hello. I am sitting in my room. Or my office, I guess. I was working on something important before this screen locked. Guess I'll have to switch devices now. Where's that pad?
(Sound of chair turning; WILLIAMS mumbles something under his breath.)
I really don't see how this is going to help in any way. Why does he want me to do this so badly?
Hey Kuang, you're probably listening to this, aren't you? You could maybe warn me about the timing next time?
A beat.
I have work to do, I can't waste all my time on this.
Sound of scribbling, clicking.
[You have been silent for over 5 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
WILLIAMS groans
What the hell? What do you want me to say?
A beat.
How's this? I really don't see how me talking to myself, or describing the weather is going to "help" me—as you so adamantly think you are. How is this helping me?
And how long do I have to go on? 3 hours? Just 3 hours of me talking about something stupid. How is that useful to anyone? Then you're the one who needs help, because that's going to do nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The only reason I even agreed to do this was because of your insistence. This is just too much shit. I told you, I'm fine. I'm great, actually.
This shit is helping no one. I'm trying to, with my work. My work is important, it needs to be finished. It needs to be done. I can't waste time on this.
A beat of silence.
A sigh.
Right. Of course. Automated. Who'm I getting mad at? This is just plain stupid.
Sound of scribbling continues, shuffling of paper, of liquid sloshing.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:40 PM, and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with—]
A groan.
Fuck off.
[—private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
Indiscernible mumbling, soft rustling.
Wait. What did you say the time was? Oh no.
A beat.
Oh no, no. The talk with Jake…
Creak of chair swiveling. Papers shuffling.
No, no, no, no.
Another beat.
It's ok. You're fine. You can reschedule it. This is more important. You're fine, you're fine. You can handle this. You can handle this.
Uh, uh, uh…
Creak of wheels rolling: the blackboard. More shuffling through pages. WILLIAMS can be heard scribbling something on the board, muttering.
Hey, Gandalf, project my schedule for today.
[Gandalf feature cannot be accessed in recording mode. If you would like to update with prototype premium feature, please contact your nearest RAISA specialist.]
Fuck!
Sound of an object being thrown, and crashing into something.
Heavy breathing for 10s.
It's ok. I can handle it, I can handle it.
Slow footsteps. Irregular, as if one foot is being dragged. Pacing. Sound of objects being put back into place.
Indiscernible mumbling, slowly fades to silence.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
Shut up.
Irregular footsteps. Door opening.
Dorothy. Did Director Kasha come by?
Indiscernible response.
Right, right. Yes, I know. I know. I apologize. If he's still here, tell him I'm waiting.
Indiscernible response.
Door closes, WILLIAMS lets out a sigh. Irregular footsteps.
Scribbling continues, with occasional pauses. WILLIAMS continues muttering under his breath.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
I told you to shut up. I can't deal with this now. Stop recording.
[Invalid syntax.]
System command: disable recording feature.
[Invalid syntax.]
System command: disable recording feature!
[Error, too many incorrect attempts. Command disabled.]
System command: disable time limit.
[Time limit reduced from 10 minutes to 5 minutes.]
That's not what I said!
[Playing "Cicada Days" by Will Wood.]
WILLIAMS lets out a groan.
Sound of door opening. KASHA speaks.
Hey, Franz—woah, is this a bad time?
WILLIAMS speaks.
Jake.
A sigh.
No, no, you're fine.
KASHA speaks.
Are you sure? This place looks like hell. And hey, is that Wood playing? I love that guy!
WILLIAMS mutters something under his breath. Sound of scribbling continues.
You're late, you know. What've you been—
WILLIAMS speaks.
What do you want to talk about? Is it about ARTISSCHEN?
Scribbling gets louder, more furious.
KASHA speaks.
Oh. Yes. My team and I have been working on the quantum computing models you proposed as an alternative for weaponization, and they… well, they don't quite work. They don't align with the Brunning-Kant subset or the Hudson Hypothesis. We were planning to return to—
WILLIAMS speaks.
Did you try applying the Ennead Principle and try lowering the diffusion of cybernetic links?
KASHA speaks.
No. But wouldn't that lead to more ontokinetic fluctuations?
WILLIAMS speaks.
Not if you try Ennead-Ziya, and course the flow.
KASHA speaks.
Wait, is that… what're you doing?
Footsteps.
A beat.
You didn't count the m-factor or overturn the singular. You can't lower the diffusion like that.
WILLIAMS speaks.
No no, see, I've placed the m before, so we're going to factor it in earlier.
KASHA speaks.
If that were true, then Sonic the Hedgehog would be a porcupine, Franz, that's not how that works!
WILLIAMS speaks.
It is, we can work it like that. If we reduce the b as well. Didn't I tell you guys to wait until I figured it out?
KASHA speaks.
But that goes against—
WILLIAMS speaks.
We can work it like that. It's going to work. I just need to figure out Swann's Conundrum.
KASHA speaks.
Wow. That's kind of high, even for you, isn't it?
WILLIAMS speaks.
I told you, I can do it. I told your team to wait until I worked this out. You went against my orders.
KASHA speaks.
Franz—
WILLIAMS speaks.
Let me figure this out.
For a moment, there is no sound except the scribbling of chalk and the song reaching its climax.
KASHA speaks.
I can-I can help if you want me to.
WILLIAMS speaks.
No, that's fine. There's no need. I'll figure it out.
KASHA speaks.
I feel like we could work it out quicker if we all consulted—
WILLIAMS speaks.
No, I can work it out, it's better this way.
KASHA speaks.
I see.
A beat.
I also wanted to… talk to you, you know. Catch up on things. It feels like I haven't seen as much of you lately. Have you been bunking in here?
WILLIAMSspeaks.
Yes.
KASHA speaks.
Huh. You're "ignorant as fuck but a proud individual", eh? That song was made for you!
WILLIAMS mutters something.
You know you don't have to do this. I can—
WILLIAMS speaks.
I'll be fine. Listen, Jake, I have some work to do. I'm Administrator now. Can we talk later, somewhere else?
A beat.
KASHA speaks.
Oh. Of course, of course. Let me know when you want to meet. I'll bring my Wood album with me.
KASHA chuckles.
Another beat.
Alright. I'll see you later then. Don't strain yourself too much, okay?
Footsteps, the door opens and closes. For a few moments, the only sound is that of WILLIAMS scribbling furiously, and the song reaching its end in the background. He pauses suddenly. He lets out a groan. The sound of an object striking something is heard, possibly thrown against it. There is a creak as WILLIAMS settles into the chair.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
| from: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh#ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh |
| to: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde#ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde, ten.hctawrevo|nimda#ten.hctawrevo|nimda |
Hey, Franz. I don't know what happened this time, but the team is getting worried again. I'm getting worried as well. You keep coming to the conferences at random times, and you spend so much time locked in there. Not to mention when we're working our team seems to be on a completely different dataset to the one you're using. You also didn't meet up with me, like we agreed. What's going on?
I think I understand, though. You don't need to be fretting so much, man. This is our life's work. We've been on it for years, and it's a team effort from every single person involved; the hardware engineers, the programmers, the mathematicians, all of them. It's OK, Franz, this will take a while, no matter what miracles the higher-ups want. We have to work it out slowly; but we will finish it, I promise. We don't need to rush things.
Hey, if you're reading this, let's meet up sometime. Iris and Hadi used to go to some café, remember? Cafè Chez Albert I think. They gatekept the cafe and where it was, but I think I've figured it out. We could find where it is together and go there, what do you think?
—Jacob Hob Kasha
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM—]
Something clatters, possibly dropped or thrown. WILLIAMS curses loudly.
[—and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
WILLIAMS sighs.
Suppose I should get used to this.
Creak as chair swivels. Scribbling on the blackboard begins.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
Ok, let's see. What do you want me to say?
Today was alright. I had to fly to Sumatra to meet the Undersecretary. The situation there's gotten worse—almost as bad as Poland, approaching Siberia-level. The anarchs have been growing bolder, messier.
What else? Right. We had another Council-Committee summit for about the same reasons as always. Geopolitical instability. PENTAGRAM think we're being too reckless and breaking rules. ORIA thinks we're overstepping our boundaries. A3M think we're overstepping boundaries. I don't know who else; maybe fucking GAW think we're overstepping boundaries as well. The outbreaks, disasters, mass breaches, the Revolt. And ARTISSCHEN. I've been working on some countermeasures, they just need to enact it.
The weather's been pleasant so far, and I think I had crackers and some milk earlier.
There. Is that enough?
Indecipherable muttering.
So far, this hasn't done anything to "cure" me or whatever. It's just been a distraction. I was supposed to finish this yesterday but… I suppose it's called Swann's Conundrum for a reason. I can't afford distractions anymore, I have to finish this now. We have to finish weaponization soon.
Scribbling continues.
[You have been silent for over 5 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
Damn it, what's your problem? How is this supposed to help anyone? Stop. Just a few minutes of me talking to the wall. Why did I agree to this? Why do you think it's going to be of help to anyone, anyway? I don't have to do this. I'm fine. I'm above you. I'm above this. I don't need to do this. I don't understand why you're so convinced that I've gone insane, that I need to do this.
A beat.
Scribbling stops.
Am I really just going insane?
A beat.
Is that why it keeps happening?
What if he's right about you? Maybe you've lost it. Maybe you are crazy. The dreams, the incidents, you keep hearing… seeing… maybe he's…
A beat.
No. No! No, no, no, no. Stop it. Get yourself together. Focus on the task at hand. You have to finish this. This is all that matters. This is all that matters, you have to finish it now. Now. Stop letting it get to your head. Nothing matters except this.
What would they think, if—Stop. No. That doesn't matter. That doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter.
A beat.
Scribbling resumes, slightly more aggressive than before.
…m factor. Where to put the m factor? 233 coarse the flow reduce it.
No. No. No.
Hold it near the zenith? Cycle the quadrant, coarse the flow…
No, that doesn't work.
A beat.
What if we combine both?
Indecipherable muttering.
Coarse the flow, hold near zenith, cycle the quadrant 233 coarse it reduce it…
A groan.
No. No!
Sound of something crashing; thrown.
Goddammit!
A beat.
No no. Get it together. You can do this. You filled out the Theorem. This is building off it. You can do it.
Scribbling.
…across the zenith. No, no. Doesn't work in accordance. Remove the m entirely? No. Enjamb it with p, coarse the flow, reduce it to 0.2, increase the alpha thread to 4.5…
No, no, doesn't work… turn it up, switch the flows, increase the bass… no, no, doesn't work either. What if I… no, no.
No, no, no, no.
…doesn't work.
No, no, no…
Incoherent mumbling for one minute.
It's ok. You can do this, you can do this. This is just another angle of it, of the Theorem, of Swann's thought. How would he have thought of this?
A beat.
Maybe I should try thinking of this more broadly.
In broad terms… it has to do with mediums of power. There is an enormous reserve of energy being used. How do they do it? The traces we found, lingering. What's the problem: they must have a medium. It must be quite thin, quite fragile, and erroneous yet sufficient to hold terabytes of astrokinetic data…
So if we build from the assumption that yx is inversely proportional to ab…
A beat. Only scribbling can be heard. It continues for a while before the sound of the chalk snapping under pressure can be heard. After a pause, the scribbling continues unimpeded.
God. That's it. Aha. I've got it. I've got it. Eureka, I've got it! That's it! That's—
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
August Site-01 Speech Commemorating Success
[…] with the current solution posited to Swann's Conundrum, we have opened up avenues previously unexplored. My team is working on using this formula to fully weaponize ARTISSCHEN.
For years the tyranny of the anomalous has loomed over us, an infection pervading our world, our society, our very lives. For years, this darkness has been festering, growing.
For years, our valiant soldiers have fought against it, and we have lost countless lives to it. But no more. No more.
With this, we have figured the Conundrum. With this, we finally stand a chance. An opportunity to survive. To heal the world of this sickness. To rip it out from the roots and punish those who have perpetuated it. It's our mission to see it is done. My mission. We must protect the world. We must protect them from these abominations and put an end to this threat. Because it's us or them now. Destroy or be destroyed.
I will personally see it done. I will ensure our success, as promised when we first started our noble work. The suffering will end. I will see to it that justice is delivered, swiftly and mercilessly. […]
Confidential Report 01.95/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[…] the area for direct ARTISSCHEN applications is yet to be chosen however, materials are being moved to Site-01, with the main servers in Wing-4 already linked and in sync. Major funding streams have been redirected from Healthcare & HR to the project[…]
| from: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh#ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh |
| to: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde#ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde, ten.hctawrevo|nimda#ten.hctawrevo|nimda |
Hey, Franz. Oh my god. I don't know what to say. Congratulations! We're all beyond elation. You figured it out! I'm not going to lie, that whole moment was very goosebump-inducing for me. I'm still processing what just happened. Wow. We're almost done, Franz. I mean, there's still some work to be done, but, we're so close. The fruit's going to be sweet.
I am a bit miffed though. You've been ignoring my phone calls, my emails. It's made me a little bit worried. This is a team effort, OK? You've done amazingly! But let us carry some of the weight as well.
Anyway, this is an occasion to let loose a little. You didn't show up the other day, but I found the cafe. It's in Back Bay, of all places! Right on Marlborough Street. Wasn't that where we met? I think the place got torn down, but still, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. We can meet up there, if you want. The name sounds French, but I looked up their menu online and aside from banger looking drinks they have a whole lot of variety in dishes. I'll be waiting for you at 8. Hope to see you!
—Jacob Hob Kasha
<START LOG>
KUANG: Good evening, Franz. It's been a momentous few days, hasn't?
WILLIAMS: sits casually, one of his legs over the other.
WILLIAMS: Yes, yes, it's been incredible. I've finally done it.
KUANG: How does achieving this make you feel?
WILLIAMS: Do you feel the need to ask that every time? Don't you know my response already?
KUANG: (small smile) Never hurts to ask. (pause) I'm happy for you, Franz, really. I know you're quite passionate about this project.
WILLIAMS: (scoffs) I'm not your son. But you do, though? Then we can stop our meetings here.
KUANG: We've talked about this before, Franz. This is—
WILLIAMS: Necessary. So you say.
KUANG: (sighs) Yes, so I say. It's for you to get better. I—
WILLIAMS: Hopefully it won't be, soon enough.
A beat.
KUANG: Have you been journaling like I asked you to?
WILLIAMS: Shouldn't you know?
KUANG: Your page is private, and I have not accessed it, if that's what you're asking. I take client confidentiality very seriously.
WILLIAMS: Hm. Of course. It's been nothing but a distraction anyway, the recordings, and it hasn't done anything to 'help'.
KUANG: It's necessary. You'll get used to it, soon enough. It's important for you to process your emotions, as an outlet. I have a few similar programs in mind. Before that, did you take the medication I prescribed you?
WILLIAMS: No. It's unnecessary.
KUANG: Franz—
WILLIAMS: It's not needed. I'm fine.
KUANG: It is necessary, I need to—
WILLIAMS: I'm fine—
KUANG: You have to take it, it's for—
WILLIAMS: I am the Administrator. You are below me. This is below me. I am not insane, I don't need to be sedated.
KUANG: (raises hands) You're right. You are the Administrator. You aren't insane, and I am not suggesting that in any way. I'm just recommending this because I think it will help. This is just a light dosage, to see how you respond to it. I'm trying to gauge the necessity of it! We both know—
WILLIAMS: No. I don't th—
KUANG: We both know—
WILLIAMS: You are just—
KUANG: You've spoken your mind. Let me explain myself.
WILLIAMS falls silent.
KUANG: We both know you're having issues. That's fine, that's normal. You are not insane. I'm just here to help you out. I need cooperation from you for that. You're right, I can't order you around. But this is just for your own benefit, I give you my word as a doctor.
A beat.
WILLIAMS: Alright, fine. If that's what makes you feel better.
KUANG: It does, thank you. Alright, so anything else you want to talk about? Any other issue on your mind?
WILLIAMS: No, There's nothing.
KUANG: (pause, sigh) Alright, so we can end today's session here. Remember those exercises I showed you early, and to take the medicine. Just show it to my assistant, she should get it for you. Have a great day.
<END LOG>
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM—]
Not now—
[—and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
Frantic scribbling. Beeping noises; a digital calculator running simultaneously. The pauses in between scribbling seem to indicate there are multiple boards being used.
Don't have the time. Working on some postulates, modules. So close to success. About to start trial runs…
A beat.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to consult your nearest RAISA specialist!]
Shut up. Not now.
Focus… focus…
Aha.
The scribbling stops abruptly.
WILLIAMS groans, laughs quietly.
Chair squeaks. Footsteps. A beat.
Should I go see…
A beat.
No, it's fine. It'll be fine. I shouldn't.
The sound of glass clattering, a cork popping. Liquid sloshing into a glass. A bottle rattles. Franz takes multiple drinks, exhales.
It's for his own benefit.
A beat.
You know… I had the strangest dream.
I was… there. There was blood, I could hear the walls crumbling, the screaming…
Inhales sharply.
But then… I wasn't. One minute I was there then… this, this field. I was in this field. Violet flowers. Lots of them, lots of violet flowers. Vibrant. Stretching on…
Dawn. It was dawn. Petals raining down, or drifting down rather. I just stood there in a daze, watching.
The ground. It wasn't ground at all. Mounds of human skulls. Thousands of them. And the flowers were growing from the skulls. And…and I was just standing there, just standing there looking at the—
He cuts off. Liquid sloshes. A sigh. There is an extended moment of silence. WILLIAMS starts to chuckle, softly at first, before bursting into raucous laughter.
Ah. Wow! Wow. Look at you. Single greatest achievement, ever, in history, and you're getting iffy about a dream? C'mon, Kuang's rubbing off on you at last, eh?
WILLIAMS laughs. Takes another full drink, before refilling his cup. He lets out a long sigh, still chuckling.
Watch. I'm on top of the world, and I'm going to change it.
He takes another swig, and murmurs softly:
For you, J.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
<START LOG>
GANDALF: Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!
The sound of glass clinking. Liquid sloshes, bottle rattles.
There is a long sigh.
WILLIAMS: We did it.
Soft laugh. More of the drink is poured.
WILLIAMS: I can't believe it. We did it. Wow.
The chair creaks. Another long sigh, followed by soft laughter. WILLIAMS gulps it down, and pours another. Something clatters on the desk.
WILLIAMS: Huh. Shouldn't have doubted it. Shouldn't have doubted… we did it. Ha. There is justice after all.
More pouring commences, and WILLIAMS takes another. This continues for a lengthy period of time, in silence.
GANDALF: You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty, please feel free to contact your RAISA specialist!
WILLIAMS: (slurred) Goddamnish. Poweloff Shyshem.
GANDALF: Error, incorrect command!
WILLIAMS: S-Syshtem shushdown.
GANDALF: Error, incorrect command!
WILLIAMS: Dammnish I knew thish. Shyshtem hafsh-resherduam-shishteen paush.
GANDALF: Playing "Half-Decade Hangover" by Will Wood.
WILLIAMS: (groans) Goddamish.
The song blares loudly. After some time, a loud rapping at the door becomes distinguishable.
WILLIAMS: C- Come in.
The door creaks open.
KASHA: Hello—wow, this place seems to have gotten worse. (pause) Franz?
WILLIAMS: Here.
KASHA find WILLIAMS behind the desk, on the floor.
KASHA: My man, have you been partying alone? That's kind of sad. (pause) You have great taste in music, in my objective opinion.
WILLIAMS tries to throw his arms up, flailing them around.
WILLIAMS: Oi'm not palshying.
KASHA: Parsying? What's that?
WILLIAMS: Partshying!
KASHA: (snickers) Far-shitting.
WILLIAMS: (throwing his hands down) Fagh…yoou.
KASHA sits down next to WILLIAMS.
KASHA: You are piss drunk.
WILLIAMS: Sho?
KASHA: Ay, I'm not judging. I've been telling you to loosen up for months. Never thought I'd see the day.
WILLIAMS grunts. A beat.
KASHA: Y'know, I'm still kind of in shock. That we did it.
Shifting, paper gets crumpled underfoot. Liquid sloshes into a glass, and is consumed almost immediately.
KASHA: I mean, we've been working on this for so long. How long has it been? Four years? Ten? I'm not sure, it's all muddled up. It's been so long I never thought we'd reach here.
WILLIAMS mumbles something.
KASHA: Yeah, I remember thinking of giving up quite a few times. It was so frustrating. All the theories seemed to contradict one another, there was a dearth of material, the formulating made me want to crack my head open. (laughs) And you! You would just disappear for days on end, and I almost thought you left. Gave up.
WILLIAMS: Oi wouldn't do that.
KASHA: Certainly felt like you would, sometimes. (pause) But then you would show up, eventually, one day or the other. and I got used to it. Trusting you. Always trust you. Doubting you has always been a mistake, hasn't it? Learned my lesson on that. You're always there. always will be, eh? Franzy the Immortal. (chuckles softly) You always pull through it. That's what kept me going, y'know. Seeing you. 'Cause you were the pillar. Of the project, of…
KASHA trails off into silence. It lingers for a few minutes.
KASHA: Aw fuck, look at me, getting all sentimental. You're having fun aren't you. Damn you, Franz.
WILLIAMS tries to get up, lurching to his feet, but flipping forwards and crashing into a pile of books.
KASHA: Hey.
KASHA helps WILLIAMS to his feet, at the same time crudely fixing the scattered volumes. WILLIAMS staggers and sways slightly. KASHA keeps a firm arm over his shoulder.
KASHA: C'mon, let's go.
They both walk awkwardly down the dais where the desk and works are. Once they get down, and KASHA moves them towards the doors, WILLIAMS staggers away. He slips and falls down in front of a blackboard.
KASHA: What are you trying to do?
WILLIAMS: W-Worghing.
KASHA: Shit, man, really? We've done it. The others are holding a work party right now. Commemoration. Whatever. You're the real star, we need you over there. It'll be fun.
KASHA offers a hand. WILLIAMS pulls himself to his feet and staggers back, grabbing at the books on the shelf.
WILLIAMS: No… need to work. Shill shome shuff left.
KASHA: Really?
WILLIAMS: Yesh.
KASHA: Oh c'mon man, you can't be serious. We should be celebrating! You can do it tomorrow.
WILLIAMS: Need sgho wolgh. Enneashr fulghsh…
WILLIAMS trails off into mumbling, raising a chalk, and begins scribbling. A beat.
KASHA: (softly) Really?
A beat of silence. KASHA leaves, closing the door behind him carefully.
WILLIAMS continues scribbling for sometime, mumbling under his breath. There is the sound of something scraping, and subsequently WILLIAMS falls with a loud thud, books scattering.
<END LOG>
Site-01 SCiPnet Correspondences/Senior Technician Grady/Administrator's Office
Estimated time for completing your proposed updates and developmental concepts would take at minimum one month. We need significantly more materials, especially deuterium, titanium, hyperconductors and DAS wires. The whole wing will have to be blocked off, since its essentially being dismantled.
What we're trying to build is almost like a miniature particle accelerator; not to mention the difficulty in making the temperature optimal for all the different supercomputers without accidentally breaking them. We can't do all of that in such a short timeframe.
Site-01 SCiPnet Correspondences/Administrator's Office/Senior Technician Grady
Putting it bluntly: I don't care.
I've put plenty of funds into your team. We can temporarily shutdown Overwatch Wing-6 and 7, and even Site-02 if necessary. You should have all the materials you need within three or four days. You must complete the construction in maximum one week. I don't care how you do it; stop taking breaks, work in shifts, use anomalies at our disposal, it doesn't matter. Finish it in a week.
Site-01 SCiPnet Correspondences/Senior Technician Grady/Administrator's Office
Your request is, with our current technology, not possible. Even with the materials, our blueprints are still in a beta testing stage, we can't rush it without knowing all of the risks and details involved. The usage of anomalies would violate the Site's policy, and we don't know what adverse effects it could lead to or whether it might damage the materials or ARTISSCHEN. The team will also not appreciate being treated this way either. Sir, I'm telling you, this is not wise.
Site-01 SCiPnet Correspondences/Administrator's Office/Senior Technician Wallis
Greetings, Wallis. You have been assigned to this post on my personal request. I have increased your budget and the materials at your disposal, as well as folded two more teams into yours, so you should have thrice the men and more than enough materials. Your predecessor was fired because of his incompetence and obstinance, I hope you will fare better.
Confidential Report 01.105/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[…] construction has begun on Overwatch Wings-1,-4 and -6. The size of the conference hall has to be expanded significantly i.e. we're going to have to knock down the walls. Most of the wires in the hall are not DAS and thus have been removed. The deuterium is currently in storage while we construct the frames and try and coordinate with the software engineers, since the beta-testing hasn't been completed[…]
Confidential Report 01.107/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[…] and one of the casings for the deuterium was cracked, which lead to a power-grid failure affecting most of Site-01. We've had significant pushback from the workers, since they're not getting enough time to sleep or to even process what they're doing. There were some arguments with the IT team on how exactly we should[…]
Site-01 SCiPnet Correspondences/Senior Technician Wallis/Administrator's Office
There was a mishap earlier today. A large quantity of the heavy water got destroyed, Naoko and some others got injured trying to handle it. Luckily it wasn't too bad and the grid stayed up this time. Sir, we've reached largely into speculative territory now; most of the IT team seem to be spitballing what needs to be put where and how its going to work and we can't make much sense of it.
Every other moment, we're afraid the whole set is going to blow up. One of the supercomputers started malfunctioning because of the accident. We barely managed to fix it. The team is very unhappy[…]
Confidential Report 01.110/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[…] not much structural damage, thank god, but most of the circuit got overheated along with the CPU. Six of the men suffered severe injuries, one in critical condition[…]
Confidential Report 01.111/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
There was significant turmoil today, when Administrator Williams came to visit the injured. He urged the workers to continue working because "this was bigger than them"[…]
He seems to have had the opposite affect. Shortly after visit, the entire team voted to go on strike[…]
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6—]
Liquid sloshes into a glass. Muttering.
[—Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
Gulping.
Apparently, I can't have a break. Goddamnit.
Scum. Scum of dirt. Don't they realize we're protecting them? That this is for them as well? Even though it would be worth more to protect dirt? And yet, they clammer and whine like children for some dumbfounded, idiotic, ideal version of reality. While we try to heal the world, they try and hinder us. Do none of them understand that this is bigger than them?
Goddamnit. Goddamnit! What the fuck is happening? Why is this happening? This is a critical juncture in this project and some weak-spined uneducated swines want to make sure what I've worked so hard to make happen never—
A sharp inhale, heavy breathing, before silence.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
<START LOG>
KUANG: Good evening, Franz. There have been a lot of interesting developments recently. How are you?
WILLIAMS: lounges in the chair in an awkward position, almost leaning against the rest to the point of lying on it. He fidgets with his hands for a moment; there is a bandage on his palm, before putting them on his lap. He seems about to say something, but then falls silent.
KUANG: Well, seems I can safely assume you're not doing well. What's on your mind?
WILLIAMS: A lot of things. I'm…not sure.
KUANG: I see. (checks clipboard) Have you been taking the medicine like I asked you to?
WILLIAMS: Yes.
KUANG: Ok. So, what happened? What's bothering you? We'll work through it.
WILLIAMS: (slight pause) You heard the news?
KUANG: Ah. Yes, I have.
There is an uncomfortable, lengthy silence.
KUANG: It was quite disheartening to hear, with how much time you've invested in this project and… I can't imagine what it must feel like.
WILLIAMS: You can't.
KUANG: But…I believe in you. You are quite adept in confronting problems, from what I know, and I have complete faith that you'll be able to overcome the issue and swiftly continue working on the project.
A beat.
WILLIAMS: Your flattery seems to be working.
KUANG: (with a small smile) I'm not flattering; I'm simply telling the truth.
There is another moment of extended silence.
KUANG: Hmm, that's not everything, is it? Tell me, what else is bothering you?
WILLIAMS absentmindedly scratches his hand, letting out a sigh.
WILLIAMS: I've…been having dreams again. These strange dreams.
KUANG: I see. (pause) Tell me more about these dreams. Are they like the ones you described when…
A beat.
WILLIAMS: …yes. Well. Similar. They all start out kind of like that. I'm either at the…th-the site or…under the rubble when…well, it goes about randomly like that. Then it changes.
A beat.
KUANG: I see. How so?
WILLIAMS: It's…everything will be going as normal, then I'll-I'll realize— some thought will pop into my head that goes "Oh. I'm dreaming." And the dream will…just change. I'll be in another dream. Another place, except this time I know I'm dreaming. But I don't wake up. I just stay in that dream.
KUANG: Ok. What is this dream about?
A beat.
WILLIAMS: I'm…there. In the corridor, under the rubble. And then everything just changes. I'm somewhere else.
WILLIAMS swallows. Closes his eyes.
WILLIAMS: In this field, I think? Or not. I remember seeing rolling hills to the front. I'm lying there, in this field. There's violet flowers everywhere, like with the—well, you know. Vibrant violet flowers. Maybe not just violet, a bunch of shades of that sort. Spread in all directions. I'm there, I can see the field, and I'm lying down, looking at the sky. The sky is serene, in the beginning. (pause) It feels strange.
KUANG: Strange how?
WILLIAMS: It's like…I don't know. I don't move. Even if I tried to, I don't think I could. And there's this feeling, like someone or something is watching me. Just watching. Not maliciously, or I don't think so. But I still feel dread. Can't see what's watching me. Don't know if I'm imagining it. The sky is serene, kind of indigo at first. But, then, I can see at the edges of my vision, clouds gathering. Slowly, very slowly.
A beat.
WILLIAMS: They stay at the edges at first, but then overspill. Every time I have this dream, I feel like they've been growing closer. Bigger. All I'm doing is lying there, doing nothing, feeling dread, being watched. The dread is—every time I think it can't get worse, it does.
KUANG notes something on his clipboard.
KUANG: And it stays like this? Until you wake up?
WILLIAMS: Yes. Feels like hours before I wake up.
An extended beat.
KUANG: I see. (pause) And what do you think it means?
WILLIAMS: I don't know. Aren't you supposed to tell me?
KUANG chuckles.
KUANG: It doesn't really work like that.
WILLIAMS: Then how does it work?
KUANG: So, you tell me, based on what you feel and what you felt: what can it mean?
WILLIAMS: I don't know. Dread. (pause) There's something approaching. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm feeling watched.
KUANG: What do you think is approaching?
WILLIAMS doesn't respond.
KUANG: That's fine. (A beat) You know what, for our next session, I want you to think on this dream, and what this means.
<END LOG>
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at—]
A soft groan. Muttering.
[—Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording! ]
Sound of liquid sloshing into glass. Franz takes a long gulp, and clears his throat.
Ugh. God. I had another dream. Which I am going to describe as Kuang asked, I suppose.
Another gulp. Something clatters on wood.
Stupid. I hate Fireball. Tastes awful.
Another gulp. Mumbling.
This one was different. And stranger, in some ways.
I was in a room. Dark room; the lights were dim or switched off. There was this…irritating beeping noise. Pipes on the ceiling. There was a table in front of me, I think. Rectangular, lots of pipes running over it. Couldn't tell if I was standing or sitting.
Another beat. WILLIAMS takes a gulp, then sighs.
My heart was pounding really heart. Could hear it. Thrumming in my ears. And another noise. No, noises. Shouting. Footsteps. Something thudding into metal, crashing repeatedly, like someone or something trying to break in. There's whirring. It feels both hot and cold at the same time. I can hear my breathing.
Another gulp.
Then, there's a flicker of light in front of me. Dim at first, then gets brighter and brighter, until my whole field of view is just white.
And then I wake up.
Muttering. Glass clinks on glass, and WILLIAMS takes another gulp.
Shtupid. Shutipd dream with nonshenshe shtupidry.
"Fink about what it meensh", he shaysh. "Oi want you to tell me what it meensh next sheshion," he shays.
Indiscernable muttering.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording! ]
Mumbling.
Ah. Ah!
More mumbling. The sound of glass smashing.
Ah. Fagh…
Mumbling. Glass clinks; WILLIAMS pours another drink and gulps it down. More mumbling.
W-was I really there? The grass felt so real…the flowers, the skulls…
The cloud…they were growing closer this time…I could see the thunder, it was almost right over me. The sky was boiling with clouds. And I could hear…voices…like, bickering, kind of, talking, I don't know. They sounded so familiar.
So familiar…
WILLIAMS trails off. Occasionally, he takes a swig from the bottle. There is silence in the recording.
A clattering noise. This is followed by a sharp intake of breath from WILLIAMS. A beat.
Who's there?
A beat.
I shad, who's there? Who shpoke?
A beat.
…Who's there?
A beat.
Darrell…Darrell, is that you?
D-Darrell? Darrell! Hey man, how're you—howve you been? My god, we haven't shpoken in a while, huh. Oh man. Still staring at those screens, am I right? How's Iris?
…Oh.
I remember the day I met her. She was so sweet, with how she talked, with those berries she was always handing out, those quirky earrings…what we're they supposed to look like, springs? Thunderbolts? Couldn't tell. She was…always so fussy, always worrying about everyone, y'know.
A weak laugh. WILLIAMS takes a swig from the bottle.
T'was through her I met Hadi as well Through that garden she had. Right on the steps to the site's entrance. The gall, am I right? All those daffodils, and sunflowers and violets…like a jungle. I'm surprised SITECOM didn't have us tear it down or something, it was quite the intrusion. Met him there. Can't say she introduced us, more like they were having a conversation and I fell on him while I was trying to get through that mess…
Hadi…he was a transfer, wasn't he. Can't remember from which site. Somewhere in Bali, maybe, I don't know. Strange. I never asked, huh. Doesn't matter. He was— a pain in the ass. Man. Cocky, badmouthed, with that shit-eating grin and that awful haircut, so dirty minded his brain might as well been the gutter—
WILLIAMS chuckles. Takes another swig.
I loved him. Jake loved him too.
A beat.
I think Jake got his love of godawful music from him. Hadi used to walk around the hallways with that goddamn hippie-goth outfit and those boAt speakers blaring on his arms like he was fucking highschooler. God. Everyone had fun with that.
Man, through Hadi I met Matt…and through Matt I met James, then Karl, Cleo…That asshole Adrian. Traitor. Didn't know then, he didn't look it. He was, wasn't he. I should've known. I should've.
…Oh wow. But it was like one big extended family, huh. That I didn't have before, didn't deserve then…
WILLIAMS voice cracks a little.
Remember those moments. Melancholic ones—was kind of a downer, wasn't I. Felt like an outsider sometimes, y'know. Sometimes…I'd see you all having fun and feel like I was an alien, like I was…invisible, like I couldn't join. Didn't deserve to. See Hadi bump shoulders with Jake or Iris talk about her herbs with you or James with his pool and…I'd just feel insanely jealous…Have these episodes where I-I'd just sit there and look out the window and-and mop.
A sniff.
Of course, you'd all come to me and ask me what's wrong, what happened, why aren't you joining in, we love you, you know—Jake with his stupid jokes but-but—
WILLIAMS breaks into tears.
I'm so sorry. That day, I got so mad with them both…I was so ungrateful and you were trying to cheer me up and I didn't—I was so ungrateful and such a pain and I'm so sorry. Didn't deserve you guys. You shouldn't have done that. It was my fault. I'm so sorry. Those moments when I felt jealous, al those things I thought and said…I'm so sorry I take it all back…You all looked after me, looked up to me and I let you all down…I failed you all. I couldn't save you. I couldn't save any of you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm—
Sobbing, indiscernible mumbling. WILLIAMS takes another swig and falls silent.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
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Fuck you, not now—
[—and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is—]
Argh. Fuck that. Focus on this—
[—classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
The beeping of a digital calculator; scribbling on a chalkboard. WILLIAMS mumbles under his breath.
I didn't think of this. My god. This might change everything.
Continued scribbling, which abruptly stops.
Oh, fuck, right. I didn't review those files the Council sent me. Oh god.
Footsteps. There is a digitized swiping sound as WILLIAMS looks through his files. There is also shuffling of paper. More mumbling.
..another meeting with the Undersecretary. Could I postpone it? Uhh…
[You have a new e-mail from Director Kasha. Open?]
A beat.
No, I've got to do all of this…
Dealing with the strike. Need to think about that. Scum. But, this is too important…
Footsteps. Scribbling continues.
You know that popular story about Einstein's 'greatest blunder'? Basically, when he was formulating his general relativity theory that described how gravity functions…there was term he used, a coefficient. Lambda—the cosmological constant. It was meant to represent a type of…anti-gravity, to counteract the effects of gravity, since at that time it was assumed the universe was static.
Then Hubble proved that the universe wasn't static; that it was expanding, so, Einstein removed the term from his, called it his greatest blunder. Of course, now we've discovered the universe is accelerating in its expansion, so we needed to use his constant, that term, to explain a great deal of things in quantum mechanics—vacuum energy, dark energy. And therefore, it's popularly said that his biggest blunder was assuming he made a blunder.
Scribbling pauses. The sound of a cork popping. Scribbling continues.
Why am I talking about this? It's because I made a similar error. I assumed that all these entities would be acting in antagonism to each other; in order to leech off more from our universe, and thus, in order to prove why this hasn't gotten volatile or why one of these entities has not destroyed all the others I use the term ξxfeinversely proportional to σyfe.
But recent observations we've gotten from ARTISSCHEN seemed to contradict this, so I removed it. Wasn't a particularly big deal, then. But now, we've got a few more datasets, and everything on it is confusing. The exact energy of each entity varies massively. So, how exactly does it not lead to antagonism? It's confusing, but there has to be an explanation.
Scribbles pauses. WILLIAMS takes a swig, mumbling.
I'm kind of stuck here. I was thinking once we fully got ARTISSCHEN weaponized and started carrying out trial runs, the data from that would be able to explain what's happening. Of course, the strike is a bit of an impediment for that.
WILLIAMS grunts. Takes another swig.
Scum. Sleazy rats. Putting a roadblock right when humanity needs to stride forwards. Need to figure out how to deal with this.
Mumbling. WILLIAMS takes more swigs from the bottle. His voice is a little slurred when he speaks.
Hey, GANDALF, open email.
[Playing "…And If I Did It, You Deserved It" by Will Wood]
What the fuck.
WILLIAMS falls silent as the song plays. After some minutes he speaks up.
I can kind of see why Jake likes this guy…
WILLIAMS takes another swig.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
STRIKE DECLARED OVER
[…] recent turmoil, Administrator Williams came to visit the team and their leader once more, in order to discuss negotiations […] Resh-1 "Firebird" on standby […]
During negotiations, members of the team began acting provocatively […] Administrator Williams ordered Resh-1 to break up the strikes and arrest belligerents […] Strike declared over by Senior Lead.
| from: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh#ten.noitadnuofpcs|ahsakboh |
| to: | ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde#ten.noitadnuofpcs|smailliwdrawde, ten.hctawrevo|nimda#ten.hctawrevo|nimda |
Hey, Franz. It's been a tumultuous few days. I don't understand what happened or what's happening very clearly. All the articles I've read and the rumors I'm hearing are very vague and confusing. When I heard they went on strike, I felt disheartened but I could understand, y'know. Foundation technical workers and such are forced to endure such awful conditions. I hope the negotiations went well. The rumors are awful. I keep hearing you had the strike broken up with an MTF team. If that's true, that's awful. Please tell me that's not true, I don't believe it.
In other news, I'm seriously getting annoyed with how you're ignoring me. I waited an hour or two for you to show up, and you didn't. I was mad then, but I've cooled down now. I'm guessing you were too busy dealing with this situation. I can understand. But please, if you find the time, let's talk somewhere.
Chez Albert was a nice place. Very quaint. Tucked between two houses. The owners live on the top floor of the building, this sweet old couple. I don't think I saw too many people there. I was sitting in one of the chairs outside, y'know, kind of bored, when I saw it. The violets, lying in a vase near the window, like the ones Iris had. I went in and asked about it, and they said they knew her, that she gifted the flowers, and that she grew up around here. They had so many stories. I had fun talking to them. We should really go together sometime.
—Jacob Hob Kasha
Confidential Report 01.114/Recordkeeping and Information Security Administration
[…] workers agreed to continue working and not to organize another strike as several concessions were made to them, however Firebird is keeping a close watch in the area [….]
<START LOG>
KUANG: Good afternoon, Franz. For a moment, I had my doubts you would show up. It's been a while since we've seen each other. Eventful couple of months for you, huh?
WILLIAMS: eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath, sits in a couch across from KUANG in a slouched posture.
WILLIAMS: Mhm.
KUANG: How do you feel?
No response.
KUANG: I see. That's fine. Was there any particular reason why you were avoiding the sessions? Is anything bothering—
WILLIAMS: What do you think?
KUANG: I think something's bothering you. That's fine. We'll work through it together.
No response.
KUANG: Whatever it is, you can tell me about it.
WILLIAMS: Well. We've had progress with ARTISSCHEN after such a long period of stagnation, of course, and for whatever reason, we have to continue this farce. The project is important. I need to be there; not just for the project, but for a lot of high priority duties, the project being the first. Haven't gotten a moment of goddamn rest, and I cannot waste my time on this.
KUANG: Is that really what's bothering you?
No response.
KUANG: OK. If that's true, I'm sorry. I really am. You should've told me that, I would've rescheduled. You have to understand, this is for your benefit. Regardless, I should've asked for your schedule and adjusted accordingly and for that, I take responsibility. I truly am sorry.
WILLIAMS rubs his forehead.
WILLIAMS: (mumbling) God, you're so predictable.
KUANG: You look really tired, Franz.
WILLIAMS: Of course, I am—
KUANG: Like you've lost a lot of sleep. More than one day.
WILLIAMS: Of course I have! I'm doing my job.
KUANG: I can understand. When I lose sleep, I become quite irritable and unable to focus. Sleep is important, Franz. Especially for productivity.
No response.
KUANG: Franz, is there anything else that's bothering you?
WILLIAMS: Forget it. Doesn't matter. I need to work.
KUANG: Like I said, you need sleep to be able to work properly. This is a proven scientific fact.
WILLIAMS: Some of us don't get that luxury.
KUANG: Is that the motto of our organization? "We sleep in the light so you can sleep in the dark"?
A beat.
WILLIAMS: (snorts) You sound like Jake.
KUANG: (with a small smile) Maybe he's rubbing off on me.
An extended silence.
KUANG: I feel there is something else bothering you. Does it have something to do with why you're not sleeping?
A beat.
WILLIAMS sighs. His eyes drop to his feet.
WILLIAMS: (soft voice) Dreams have been getting worse.
KUANG: I see. How?
WILLIAMS: I-I don't know. Fucking clouds have been…getting closer. Every time I wake up I have this massive headache. (pause) And when I do wake up, I still…feel like I'm dreaming. Like, like it hasn't ended?
KUANG: Okay…why does it feel that way?
WILLIAMS: Don't know how to describe it.
KUANG: I see. Have you been taking your medication like I asked you to?
WILLIAMS: Yes.
KUANG: Okay…maybe I could write you a stronger dosage of Zolpidem, if they're bothering you that much. However, I think—I feel that these dreams have something to with issues related to your psyche, with your unresolved trauma.
No response.
KUANG: Last session, I asked you to think about what your dreams mean…so what do you think?
WILLIAMS: I'm not sure. I don't know. (pause) Like something bad is about to happen?
KUANG: Something bad?
WILLIAMS: I don't know. Something bad, something I can't stop no matter how much I try.
KUANG: I see. Go on.
WILLIAMS: I can't stop it because it's…I think, it's for me? It's coming for me and it's stopping me from stopping it? What am I saying. That sounds like nonsense.
KUANG: It isn't nonsense.
WILLIAMS: (slumps forward, rubbing face with hands) No, no it is nonsense. Fuck. I've let you get to my head. It's just a dream. It's just a dream.
KUANG: Franz—
WILLIAMS: It's just—
WILLIAMS gags, doubling over.
KUANG: Franz?
WILLIAMS let's out a small groan.
KUANG reaches out and gently grasps WILLIAMS' forearm. WILLIAMS jerks away.
WILLIAMS: I'm fine! God, stop treating me like a child.
KUANG: It's not just sleep deprivation, is it? You're hungover.
WILLIAMS: I'm not.
KUANG: Franz, please be honest.
WILLIAMS: The fuck do you care either way?
KUANG: Do you think I'm doing this for myself?
WILLIAMS: Well, who else?
Extended silence.
KUANG: If that's the way you feel, I can't change that.
WILLIAMS: You can't.
KUANG: Your well-being is already severe and you cannot develop an alcohol dependency on top of that.
WILLIAMS: Doesn't matter either way.
KUANG: Of course it does. Like I said, it's bad for your health. And you're the Administrator! What example would you be setting for the rest of us?
WILLIAMS: (low voice) You think I haven't thought of that?
A beat.
WILLIAMS: But it doesn't matter. At all. Of course it doesn't.
KUANG: Franz—
WILLIAMS: I'm not just saying that. (short, gruff laugh) It literally doesn't matter.
A beat.
WILLIAMS: It doesn't matter. Nothing I've done matters. Nothing that's ever been done to me matters. ARTISSCHEN, the project, nothing matters. Everything we've done. Worthless.
KUANG: That's not true—
WILLIAMS: Of course it is. Everything we know is a lie.
Extended silence.
WILLIAMS: I figured it out. The constant. It's why there's no overt antagonism between them. There is competition between them, at the same time their control of us is entrenched deeply. That's why there's no instability. The scale factor is… I'm not sure, but it's a lot. Their hold over our reality is immense, almost incomprehensible. Why are they letting us resist them, if that's the case?
Silence.
WILLIAMS: Because they want us to. Because it won't work.
Silence.
WILLIAMS: The calculations aren't complete, but that's my educated guess. (pause, laughs softly) So there was no point to this. None at all. We've been fools playing on a stage.
KUANG: Franz…
WILLIAMS: There's no point to me. There's no point to you, to us, the Foundation, anything. (pause, in a lower voice) There's no point to me being alive. Why am I alive? Why did they have to die? Why?
WILLIAMS buries his face in his hands, breath low and erratic. There is silence.
KUANG: I…
Silence.
KUANG: Wow, that's a lot. I don't know if I understood everything, but that's certainly…overwhelming. I don't—I can't imagine how it must be feeling.
Silence.
KUANG: (inhales sharply)…Do you know why I decided to practice psychology?
A beat.
KUANG: Originally wanted to go into medicine. Surgery. Neurosurgery, actually. My, uh, parents wanted me to, because they were both doctors. I know, stereotypes and all. (dry chuckle) But that was what it was.
A beat.
KUANG: Got into St. George's… a stuffy place, but probably one of the best unis for medicine. Had to live in a dorm…first time being isolated from my parents. I'd never been a particularly social guy, so I was anxious about it.
A beat.
KUANG: My roommate was this amazing guy, Elliot. Brilliant man, incredibly bright, funny. I came in, all anxious, eyes downcast, and the first thing he did was crack a joke about my shoes. He made me feel comfortable, went out of his way to do so, actually. He was ambitious as well. Wanted to be an oncologist and find a cure to cancer. Yeah, I know. He managed to balance his ambition, and have fun. Everyone liked him a lot, he was one of those people who lit up a room when he walked in. We became fast friends.
A beat.
KUANG: Things started to change, of course. There were things he managed to keep hidden, things I didn't figure out until it was too late.
A beat. WILLIAMS glances up.
KUANG: I…I think it was the bills. Paying for the dorm. Groceries. Books. Saw a pile of bills on his desk once. A pile of papers for the loans. He played it off. Made a joke about being broke. I didn't think much of it then.
A beat.
KUANG: And all of that. Elliot kept all of that inside him, burdened himself with it. Sometimes he'd have these catatonic states. These-these long silences where he seemed so…distant. Didn't come often, but everyone would look away when it did happen. Like it hadn't.
A beat.
KUANG: Should've seen it, should've tried harder to understand. Should've tried to help him with it. I was blind. All of us, we should have tried to help. But we were young, and with youth there's always callousness, cruelty. We were busy socializing. Busy having fun. Most people, they only want to hang you when you give them light, when you're fun. And avoid you when you're struggling.
A beat.
KUANG: But he was there. He was there for us all, with a smile through those moments. (pause) And over time, the work started wearing thin his façade. He stopped going out as much, staying in for hours. Started having those silences for hours at a time. They all avoided him. I avoided him. I thought it was just a…phase.
A beat.
KUANG: It was a Friday. The day before he'd been cheerful all of a sudden, joining in the ragers…but now he'd stayed in, quiet, for the whole day. I thought nothing new of it. I came back to our room after a late class. And when I opened the door…
A beat.
KUANG closes his eyes.
KUANG: I saw him…well, I saw that…Elliot had taken his own life. I found him there and it was like…
A beat.
KUANG: You must know how…indescribable that feeling is. What you went through was orders of magnitude worse but…you must understand. Like the ground's been ripped from beneath you. Like somehow you've swallowed all the bitterness in the world. I didn't understand how that could possibly happen. How someone like him could…
A beat.
KUANG: I don't think I've ever felt so awful before. And I don't think I've ever really gotten over it. It stayed with me, that question—why did he do it? why didn't I see it? Why didn't I try to understand?
A beat.
KUANG: So, I chose to change my field. There are some wounds that surgery can't heal. I believe that if I'd just tried harder to understand, to support Elliot he wouldn't have…the worst part wasn't the death. It was the fact that he went through that alone. He suffered alone.
A beat.
KUANG: I want to ensure that no-one else has to go through that ever again.
A beat.
KUANG: I'm obviously out of my depth here, but…I don't think anyone else gives a point to our lives. There is no point. I think the purpose of our lives is what we make it. I've made it to help other people, in whatever little way I can. I think you've done the same as well. And…
A beat.
WILLIAMS stands up abruptly.
WILLIAMS: (gruffly) Excuse me.
WILLIAMS leaves.
There is a moment of silence, before KUANG switches off the recorder.
<END LOG>
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The sound of furious scribbling.
What is that smell.
[—and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is—]
WILLIAMS gulps down a large amount of alcohol from the bottle. A moment of silence; WILLIAMS sniffs the air.
[—classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created—]
Incoherent mumbling.
[—by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
Sighing. Groans.
What is going on.
Massive headache since I've woken up. What is that smell?
Inaudible mumbling. Scribbling. Wheels creak
Kuang couldn't solve… but maybe a little right, since we have to do this. Why have their spines turned to jelly now? Fucking 'side effects'. Medicines come with side effects. I'm the doctor. Can't they see? The only thing that matters is to destroy every one of them somehow. Must. For good. What's the point of being alive if I can't do that? There must be some way.
We've downed so many. 1345 and yet, it's still not working. Why isn't it working? What is this? It needs to work. I'm missing something. There's something that needs to be done. Anything can be done. I can do anything. I did this. I got this far. It was me. I can do this. There's something, come on. Think. You're good at this, c'mon.
Stops. Sniffs. Chalk clatters.
'What is that smell?'
There is a brief moment of silence, then Franz's breathing then takes a harsh turn as he begins breathing rapidly.
'Is… that?'
'What the fuck. What the fuck.'
With the next blink Franz's eyes suddenly feel sore. Raw. Like they were plucked out. Scrubbed between rocks before being popped back into his cranium. Franz blinks again and the whole room has shifted. He is viewing the world through a fish's bowl now, everything is distorted, rotund like a bubble.
Breathing gets harder and harder. His lungs are not working properly. He is not standing properly. The sweet floral stench mingles with that of a thousand rotting corpses, forcing its way into his nostrils. His eyes begin to water.
He can hear, in the back of his head, a noise. No, a cacophony. The rumbling of thunderclouds sends a prickling sensation down his back. He hears screaming.
Oh no. Oh no.
He recognizes those voices. It's—
No. Don't think about it.
He can't breathe. He can't breathe. His knees turn to jelly and he collapses. He feel the sensation of grass licking his feet, gnawing at his arms, grass and flowers. The stench stabs into his nose and gets stuck, clogging his left eye, making his vision turn blurry. His skull is ringing, it feels like it's going to split open. His ears are ringing. He can't breathe. He looks up. The ceiling flickers in and out. He sees the clouds. The wind hits his skin, and billows through his clothes. He feels naked.
No. Don't look at it. Dont look at it. It's not real.
Instead, he looks ahead. Ahead, as if down a tunnel, he sees a mirror on his office wall. Usually, he keeps the mirror covered with a cloth so that he doesn't have to look at himself. But the cloth has fallen to the floor, revealing a doorway into another world. He stands on the other side. But that can't be right. He's on his knees, isn't he?
His vision bends like a piece of paper being folded together to make the two dots meet. He sees his reflection.
The skin on his face is puckered in parts, lines in parchment. It's sallow beneath the chin, but torn apart everywhere else so that it is not a face anymore, but a shredded mask clinging to the skull it is meant to conceal. The bottom lip droops beneath the chin, bulging, purple. The teeth are yellow, pustulent tusks which shred into the upper lip. Lacerations show muscle infested with glowing green spots. There is vibrant violet flower which takes the place of the left eye. The right eye is an empty hole infested with glowing green dots. Wriggling green dots. Maggots. Against his will, a keening wail rips out of him.
Franz feels the gaze of the mockery shift towards him. The lips stretch in a grin that tears its cheeks open, chunks of remaining flesh falling to the ground. The veins in its rotting neck bulge as it cranes down, sagging arms freaking as it reaches forwards. Franz cannot move. The fingers wrap around his throat. He feels its humid breath on his face, and the humid wriggling of the maggots on his neck.
He closes his eyes.
Heavy breathing. WILLIAMS inhales sharply then exhales.
A beat.
Oh my god.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
[Hello there. This is an automated message from GANDALF.aic to notify you that it is now 7:45 PM and your recording session has begun! We hope you are well rested at Overwatch Command. This is a secure Foundation line, befitted with private recording software. It is classified under Level 6. Remember, you can adjust the setting through vocal commands! GANDALF.aic was created by Dr. Ganymede. The Psychological Records are maintained by your personal AIC, in accordance with Human Resources and RAISA. Thank you, and happy recording!]
The sound of scribbling from the board, more subdued than usual. A pause, then WILLIAMS continues writing, before stopping.
Sharp inhalation.
I-I can't keep going on without finishing this.
Have to do this. Cmon. Think. They're messing with you. That's what's happening. You're onto something. They're scared. So they're messing with you. That's it. You can do this. I can do this. I brought us here. Me. I have to do this. I have to finish it.
Scribbling continues, intense at first then slows down once more. WILLIAMS exhales. The chalk clatters to the floor. WILLIAMS hollers. Something heavy skids and crashes. There's a splintering noise.
That makes no sense. There's so many connections to the self. So many supranarrative entities. I ended so many. Over 2000 at least. Why is the narratokinetic energy still stable? The Hume levels have been messing up. The g-Factor hasn't been this wonky. The energy has been stable. The math does not align with this. This makes no sense. What is going on. What is happening.
Am I going insane?
Harsh breathing, almost hyperventilating. WILLIAMS slaps himself. Something skids on the floor, kicked possibly.
Focus. Focus. Nothing else matters. Nothing else.
A beat.
Muffled noises can be heard.
Hm.
Sounds of muffled yelling.
Huh?
The doors crash open.
Something feels wrong. Franz whirls around.
The first thing he sees is Jake's face. Something constricts in his chest. That face, marred by those hideous scars, marred by his failure. Franz remembered that day, running alongside the stroller clutching his hand, trying to feel that faint pulse, trying to will it to life. He remembered standing outside the operating theatre; four whole days he stayed there as it had happened. He remembered talking to the doctor.
"We've tried our best. The cuts went very deep, some bone was shattered but it's a miracle that no major arteries or nerves were severed."
The scar tissue was white as ash. The reconstruction was obvious; his Jake's dainty, elfin features were preserved somewhat but he could see the stretch to the eyes, the cut to the bottom lip and the tilt of his nose. Franz's failures. And yet, Jake had smiled as he had always smiled; barest hint of teeth showing alongside the crinkles of his eyes.
He wasn't smiling now though. Jakes face was etched with overwhelming emotion, his eyes rimmed with rage and something else, a quiver to his lip. There were two guards on either side of him, both trying to stop him in his tracks. The others watched close by, moving closer as well.
One of the guards began, 'Sir—what are you doing, sir, stand back, we're warning you—'
'Get out of my way.' Kasha said.
'Sir, this is not appropriate—'
'I don't care, let me talk to him—'
'You'll need to file in the appropriate paper—'
'Fucking screw that—'
'Firebird.' Franz didn't feel like it was his voice that said those words, but it had to have been. 'Stand down. Jake, what's the meaning of this?'
'What's the meaning of this?' Jake's voice was shril. 'This? This? What the fuck have you done?'
He raised his hand and in it was a sheet of printed paper, slightly crumpled. Franz couldn't make out the words but he didn't need to. It would be the ARTISSCHEN logs of the past few weeks, showing dates, entities killed. All done through Jake's account.
'I don't know what you're talking about.' The lie slipped out with more ease than he'd expected.
Jake's face deflated. 'Don't… don't do that to me. You know what this could do, right? They prohibited us from continuing until more data could be collected. Something's going wrong with reality. Reality! And now, apparently it's been done on the low and my names all over it, what, I'm not—'
'Why are you telling me all of this?' Franz asked.
The guards exchanged glances. Franz felt something acerbic at the back of his throat but he ignored it.
'Why… are you really asking me that?' Kasha's voice sounded choked now.
Franz averted his eyes, looking at Jake's shoes then his chest.
'Because… because… I don't know what's going on with you, Franz. You've been acting cold. I don't get it. Did I do something wrong?' Even though he wasn't looking at them, he could feel Jake's eyes on him. Pleading. 'Please Franz you have to talk to me, I'm here for you, you know I am. I don't know what's going on but you know I'm always here for you. You're…you're…' His voice choked a little. 'You're everything to me. I can't bear to see you like this. I can't bear not knowing what's going on. I can't.'
Nothing else matters.
Jake raised the papers in his hands. 'And now this. You're the only with access to all our accounts. Please, don't lie to me, Franz. What did you do? What's going on? Please, talk to me.'
Franz made himself look at Jake's eyes. They were glistening. Something stirred in his heart, but the words that came out of his mouth didn't feel like his own: 'Whatever I did, I did for you.'
There was a moment of stunned silence. 'For me?' Jake said, 'Franz, please—'
'Firebird. This man is under investigation. Take him away.' Franz forced himself to turn around and forced his eyes to rest on the blackboard that was now resting on one leg. He heard the guards move quickly, he heard them drag Jake away as he pled. 'No. No. He wouldn't do this to me. Franz, please. Franz! Franz!'
Something burnt at the back of his eyes. Not tears, no. He did not feel anything. He could not feel anything. He wouldn't. Nothing else mattered.
As the door slammed shut behind him, he looked back and he saw the mirror. The cloth had fallen off and now it showed him. His bloodshot eyes, those bags under them. The small wrinkles that showed. The parched lips with skin peeling. Arms too long. Waist too wide.
He felt his grip tighten on the glass in his hand and then found himself flinging it across the room at the reflection. He watched it shatter into a million pieces. He fell into a chair and placed his face in his hands.
'Nothing else matters.'
He didn't know how long he sat like that until the cheerful voice reminded him.
[You have been silent for over 10 minutes. If there is any technical difficulty please feel free to consult your RAISA technician.]
Sniff.
Ah hm. Mhm.
A beat.
Focus.
Another beat. Scribbling resumes.
The g-Factor is stable. How is that. There is no metatextual overload quotient. Moderate temporal misalignment. But the narratokinetic layer remains stable. How? The entropy in the layer has decreased but it's roughly consistent. 5.6. The anomalies are acting strange but not really as many as we anticipated. Why?
A grunt.
Think Franz. Think. So much of this reads like fiction writers. Think of the whole thing….
Why would they all allow something that can kill them to exist? Because it can't, right? But hold on, something wrong with the premise of that. How would you get all of them to agree to let this exist in the first place? The metatextual overload quotient indicates that competition is moderate but it still exists. Get a bunch of knuckleheads in a room they probably won't agree on a goddamn thing.
A beat.
W₁(χ) × W₂(ϕ) = Ψₙ….
The narratokinetic layer is stable. Most of the sources are weak. So they're…conceptual? Each signature is different so it must be based on something real…but still, copies? Weakened versions of them which means the majority are on a different plane. So many conceptual elements were incorporated into this plane. Which is why some hold steadfast, we're not striking at the source.
5.6…the narratokinetic layer is stable. The alternating frequencies..this would only make sense if…if…But why the narrative discoherence creeping in as we've ended the copies? Were the copies required material in some form? It adds up though.
A beat.
There are only two. Two sources.
A beat.
Of course. That adds up. Oh my god.
A beat.
WILLIAMS breathing turns shallow.
Why would they let me figure this out? Did…did I have any choice in this at all? Can I even end it?
Sharp inhale.
No. Don't think about that. It doesn't matter. I can do anything. The infestation will be uprooted.
Nothing else matters.
[Your recording time is over! We hope you had fun!]
<START LOG>
KUANG: Hello, Franz. (pause) Something feels different about you.
WILLIAMS: hunched over in his chair. His hair is unkempt, his eyes are red with bags underneath. He closes his eyes for a moment, then looks up at KUANG.
'Does it?' Franz asked. Even to him his voice sounded clogged, alien. There was a dull pain at the back of his head; hangover. Even the pain couldn't dilute what he saw before him though, the steps he would have to take.
Kuang nodded. 'What's on your mind? How're you feeling?'
Franz chortled. 'God, you really are something aren't you?' he said.
Kuang raised an eyebrow, a slight smile gracing his lips. 'Why do you think so?' he asked.
The same thought that usually popped up came to Franz's mind: unmanly. He felt no emotion this time though. Perhaps because of the strange sense of respect he'd gained for this apparent man sitting across from him, perhaps he couldn't find it in himself to care, he did not know which one it was.
'I told you just last session that we have no choice. That everything is determined. There is no choice! We-we live and breathe and eat and shit and die like they want us to. And somehow, you can sit and still ask me all these bullshit questions? I mean, wow. Wow.' Franz shook his head in disbelief.
'I don't think that's true, Franz.' Kuang began. 'I think—'
'I don't give a fuck what you think because it's true. It's the only thing I'm sure is true right now. There is no point. Everything fits into a mould, an archetype, a box. No choice is ours. No choice is yours. No choice is my own.'
Kuang looked stunned, concern flickering in his eyes. Franz continued speaking, every word feeling like something from someone else's mouth. 'I used to wonder if I was even good at this, at this work, at being a leader. I am. Am I? I am the one for this. Well, shit, how would I even know since it's all been written down for me. All of that for what? How much of me is even me?' His hands shook slightly but he forced it to stillness. 'Am I just an abomination of copies stitched together? What am I even doing? A cosmic joke perhaps. No idea is original, after all.'
He paused. There was a strange burning sensation in his chest. 'I used to wonder…why it had to be them. Why did they die instead of me? Why did I get to live?'
'Franz—'
'I suppose I got the answer to that, didn't I? For no reason whatsoever. Because everything we do is their whim. They died because it was amusing. We're all just puppets, dancing on our strings, so they can clap and laugh and hoot at us. And I am just a worn down, old puppet that knows those strings are being tugged, that's tired of dangling on them. That wants to be cut loose.'
He let out a sigh, and looked at his hands. They were trembling again. 'I-I wonder if what I'm about to do is even my own choice.'
Kuang leaned forward, his expression touched by a hint of alarm. 'What are you about to do?' he asked.
'It might be what they want me to do. Created, bred like a pig to slaughter. Is it my own choice? Is that even possible? I'm doing what they want me to do, right? I just want to finish it. Get this over with. Finally. I can't beat it anymore. I do it, then it's done.'
Franz forced himself to his feet, and looked up at the ceiling.
'This will end.'
<END LOG>
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| from: | ten.ytirucesfpcs|revres10etis#ten.ytirucesfpcs|revres10etis |
| to: | ten.hctawrevo|35o#ten.hctawrevo|35o |
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