solnet | [video] (It's long. Sorry.)

Entry tags:

[video] (It's long. Sorry.)

[ A handheld camera -- quite likely Wade’s smartphone -- ‘pans’ over the gleaming exterior of a convertible. How a car managed to get here is anyone’s guess, but anyone guessing a being like Ozuma may or may not have been involved would probably be close. With its bright red paint shining in the cold winter unlight, the sight of a convertible with its top down might be alien, surreal, or even nostalgic. ]

[ Either way, whoever’s holding the phone seems to understand that such a wondrous sight deserves a proper tribute-- namely, draping yourself seductively on the hood and taking a goofy pin-up video. Which apparently is exactly what Wade has decided to do. From his position on the hood, the viewers can spot someone tucked across the back seats of the car, an almost shapeless mass of voluminous galaxy-print hoodie, t-shirt (this one is blank, save for the faded and occasional condiment stain), track shorts and shabby once-pink slippers. ]

[ Sans appears to be reclining here, sprinkling ash from the end of a cigarette all over himself and the back seat. As he lifts his skull at Wade’s arrival, he quirks a supraorbital ridge at the phone in his hand but his grin doesn’t change. Somehow, being a skeleton with no respiratory system to speak of doesn’t stop him from seemingly exhaling a stream of smoke into the air.

Smoking in the back seat of a new car? Well, it ain’t like its intended recipient is ever gonna enjoy it. ]

sup, you tryin’ out for america’s funniest home videos?

Heh. More like Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You probably can’t tell from where you’re sittin’ but I’m makin’ the most righteous duck-face right now. Oh, yeah-- Cryptkeeper, eat yer heart out. What’s with the sudden wheels, bee-tee-dubs? You suddenly win the lottery or kill a hooker or somethin’?

or somethin’. ...you like it? [ Sans eases upright like it’s the hardest thing he’s had to do all day, but pats the seat with one skeletal hand as he tucks the filter of the cigarette against his grin again. How he does that is a mystery. And given the way he always smells like, uh, greasy burgers or hot dogs and usually ketchup, he ain’t a habitual smoker, either. ] took every last G i had. it’s for Papyrus.

Aww… no kiddin’? [Wade turns away from the phone screen to look at Sans directly. He recognizes that smile-- the smile of someone who would move mountains for his beloved family member. It’s pretty cute, the lengths Sans is willing to go for his brother. ] Quite the expensive Christmas present. I’m guessin’ he’s a huge car buff then, huh? Want me to videotape his reaction when he sees this thing? Could make for some entertaining cinema. I’m imaginin’ something like the Nintendo 64 kid. [A chuckle.]

yeah, ‘bout that… [ Rasping a hand over the crown of his skull, Sans swings his eye lights over the car itself. ] couldn’t wait ‘til christmas, so i went lookin’ for him.

but, hey-- [ The skeleton hunches up his shoulders in a shrug, grinning at Wade. Casually, he passes that partially-consumed cigarette to Wade, like it’s nothing, or normal, or something. ] --turns out there’s no place like home for the holidays. [ That’s when Sans glances again at the phone. That’s, uh, that’s not the setting for taking pictures. He might actually have to do something about that. ]

[Wade’s not a smoker either, barring a brief stint in his teenage years when he wanted to be more like James Dean. Still, when your best bro casually offers you a cigarette, you don’t really say no to that. It’s not like he could get cancer again, anyway. Wade’s in the midst of plucking the cigarette from Sans’s phalanges when the bombshell he’s dropped so nonchalantly registers in his brain. He stops, cigarette held expertly between two fingers as if he’d been smoking for thirty years rather than thirty days, and looks over the windshield at his companion.]

Dude… [He stops; runs a hand over his head and tries again.] I mean-- shit, man. You okay? [Wade lowers the phone, only just now realizing that the recording light is blinking, and hastily turns it off.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dropping in to keep you company. Like you need to ask.

[He offers a sad smile.]

What can I do for you, Sans? What do you need me to do?

Heh.

[ Guy's worried about him. That's hilarious. Yeah, considering the way he was that time they first became pals? He doesn't really blame him. Feels like a lifetime ago, but since he can't recall just what kept him going back then, he assumes it was his friendship.

Sounds a bit sentimental for him, to be honest.

Sans steps aside, shuffling on dingy slippers. His room is, predictably, a mess. ]

C'mon in. And, uh, don't worry 'bout me. I'm fine. You wanna drink? Got somethin' around here somewhere.

I'm all right, I've got a water bottle I've been nursing while waiting for you.

[Colin steps into Sans' room without hesitation. He's familiar enough with this place, the only reason he didn't let himself in is because he values Sans' friendship enough to respect his privacy.]

[He reaches out to pat Sans' shoulder as he goes past him.]

[He won't call Sans out on lying, not yet anyway. He knows people have different coping mechanisms. And Sans' are a lot more complex than most, given everything he's been through.]

Figure I can keep you company, we can talk dimensional traversal and other interesting topics along those lines if you like.

[ For certain definitions of A State of Sans, this is, uh. About as 'fine' as he gets when there's another statue of Papyrus gathering dust in the Memorial Gallery. It's pretty darn good, actually. No days-long benders. No unmoving lump beneath the creasy jumble of unwashed blankets that may or may not be Sans. No long walks on narrow bridges calculating the chances he might disintegrate to dust before he actually hits the surface of the water, far below.

Pretty good, all things considered.

The Queen went too hard, and now she can't win, far as he's concerned. Because really. What can she take from him now? His life? ]

Yeah? [ There's no joke at the ready, because that seems kinda pointless. ] Ain't exactly in the mood to plan the next interdimensional vaycay, but tell ya what.

[ He shuffles over to his desk, the sturdy worktable currently littered with books, note paper, and dirty dishes. ]

Might'a had an idea or two bangin' around in my skull about addressing our, uh, home invasion problem with shadows.

[ Since it's been a problem for as long as he can remember, shadows paying them visits inside the safe zone. ]

But you're probably miles ahead on that. You on security already?

Fuck Vacay. I'm talking about tracking down your brother. YOUR brother. Not one of the infinitesimal multiversal ones out there that just happen to be a mirror of the same wonderful guy.

And before you tell me to stop and quit offering things I can't do, I want you to remember who you're talking to. I've already made one promise to find someone's wife from beyond the grave which I will be quite able to deliver on. Impossible isn't a word in my vocabulary.

[Colin gives Sans a momentary hard look, but then he softens.]

But at the moment, it's a difficulty. I will confess that I cannot deliver right this instant. So, if you would rather discuss security, let's talk light shows, shall we?

[ He doesn't talk about how his brother - the one from his timeline - will probably be waiting for him on the Surface of a mountain he's been living under his whole life. That Sans doesn't expect to ever make it there, because he's both too tired and the Queen seems unwilling to let him off the hook even half as easily as his brother.

That it's both better and worse here without him.

It's a nice thought, and Sans can at least acknowledge what it is Colin's trying to do. It's just... too late.

He also doesn't sigh at Colin's hard look. When it softens, he grins at him, no harm done. ]

Yeah. So, you wanna catch me up on what you've got?

[He says something in a data screech of binary, not hard to imagine that it's something irritated, but his expression doesn't seem angry at least.]

Anyway, you're familiar with hard light? Theory, at least?

When I had my fabber, I cranked out about a gross of long life, high intensity, transparent aluminum lights. Not so good for hard light generation, but for making vandal-proof light fixtures, they're fantastic.

Now, the hard light projectors... THAT is my big idea. I'm just not sure how to properly set one up for proper use. Typically, they're enclosed setups. Holo sims, pleasure domes, tactical projectors, that sort of thing.

I can PROBABLY cobble one together with time and the supplies we've got, but a stationary one... well, that's easy enough to avoid. Just don't walk into it. I'm thinking of making a portable system, but... more complex, and it would rely on the person using it to use it to its fullest.

Any thoughts?

[ Yeesh, pal. Binary? Sans doesn't want to argue, or make a big deal outta anything, hell, he just wants a distraction, something that isn't going to cause trouble -- or, at least, the kind of trouble he can't easily avoid. So he doesn't address that, either, just moves on to-- ha ha, how familiar he might be with the theory of hard light.

He's right there with him until 'stationary'.

Sockets darken. Not out of dismay so much as momentarily blanking out in understated surprise. ]

Uh. Oh.

[ Eye lights, upon their reappearance, swing up at an empty space above and back to Colin. ]

Wow, heh heh. So you guys never figured out a way to make the emitters move on their own?

Different technological paths.

[Colin smiles and shakes his head.]

Hard light can do wonderful things, but in terms of military applications, it's basically got only a little more kick than laser tech.

Good if you haven't developed magnetic rail slings, not so good if you've passed that hurdle. It still has uses, of course, as do lasers. I've got a friend who swears on his light sword, and I know two guys who are wizards with their projectors.

BUT... In terms of widespread use, it uses a bit more power than people like, for not as good of a return. Good for entertainment and emergency services, not so good otherwise.

Mind you, I know I can build a portable projector, but it would be quite a bit more complex than building a stationary unit. And unless I'm mistaken, we've only really got the resources for one good unit of either sort. At least for the time being.

[Sorry Sans, you should be used to how much he talks by now.]

[ With the balcony -- and the fact that Sans, largely unbothered by the cold, tends to leave the door leading to it wide open on nights he's stargazing (and doesn't have company) -- his is probably the most well-ventilated bedroom in the tower. Still, it carries a certain, uh, odor.

Like hot dogs, ketchup, greasy food from the kinds of places where your shoes stick to the floor. Another vague smell of stale waste-magic clinging to unwashed laundry littering the floor. Add to that the acrid smell of tobacco smoke mixed with the bright, crisp scent of frost.

It's not a great combination at all. Even Sans seems to notice, because as Colin talks, he hooks the tip of a phalanx into the collar of his t-shirt and makes a show of whiffing at it. Oh, geez. You won't mind if he goes hunting for a marginally less horrible shirt, wouldja? ]

Sounds like you could use an emitter that generates its own power, is self-propelled, and is capable of independent thought.

[ Ha ha, just kidding. ]

Ok, maybe not that last part so much. Anyway, yeah. but we don't have the resources and, uh, at least 80% of the blueprints to even try it that way.

[If it helps any, Colin doesn't even seem to notice the scents and the poor conditions of the room. If he does notice, he's not making any indication of it.]

[He gives Sans a wry grin, but he shakes his head then.]

I could, but I don't build AI specifically for any job. Shackle an AI and you eventually get all kinds of problems. Corsican AI are born free, and allowed to pursue their own paths. We get plenty of volunteers for all kinds of hard jobs, with none of the problems of forcing someone into it.

[He seems to have completely missed the point of Sans' statement. Isn't that just par for the course?]

We don't have the resources. I can cobble together the specs easy enough.

[A wink.]

Did you have any thoughts, or you just wanna ride the flow of my thought process?

[ Guy like Sans should be embarrassed. He might be, hell if anyone can tell with that perpetual grin, though. Eventually, he swaps one shirt for another, and is shrugging back into his hoodie when he pauses to think.

He'd thought Colin meant the technology didn't exist the way they needed it to in his world. Maybe he, uh, got it wrong? ]

Not if you've got it figured out already. Otherwise?

[ He shrugs. ]

Guess I could show ya what I mean. Wasn't my design. Call it an inheritance.

Anyone who tells you they know everything is a fool. If I discount other ideas just because I think I've got the right one, how much do you think I'll miss out on?

But anyway, like I was saying, we've got hard light, but the technology hasn't been seriously developed beyond a couple of simple applications.

[Simple applications being life-saving tools in situations where there's very little time and space to operate in, and the little trick of recreating entire environments seamlessly in small chambers to such an extent that the mind can't tell them from reality. Colin's sense of scale is really skewed some times.]

If you can whip something out, I'd love to see it.

[A pause, and he looks to the side.]

Mind out of the gutter, people.

[ You too? C'mon, man. Don't bogart Sans's 4th wall-leaning thing, you're already better than him in literally everything else.

Just kidding, guess Colin can have that too. That first question strikes him as rhetorical; Sans doesn't do much more than shrug his shoulders.

There's absolutely no fanfare or pomp about what comes next -- Sans merely lifts his eyelights to a point above their heads, when a pair of large, canid skulls materialize. They don't do anything, they just... hover there. ]

Output on these charmers is tied to my own, so they're operatin' with one helluva handicap. Still learnin' all the ins and outs. Like I said, they're somethin' like an inheritance.

[ Still learning. More like... he started to, stopped at 'good enough', and never really had a reason to bother for a long, long while. ]

[Worry not, Sans. That was less a purposeful fourth wall break, and more an exasperated statement acknowledging that he knew how it sounded. Your position as adjutant in charge of the fourth wall's destruction is secure, beneath your Commander Deadpool of course.]

Fascinating. Hard light constructs. Animated with your will, or AI directed?

[Whoops, now you've distracted him. Good job, Sans.]

Do you mind if I approach and study, or does that intrude on a personal bubble?

[ Sans doesn't have an answer for Colin, here. There's a lot about the Blasters that he's had to figure out as he goes. Sure, he knows how to have 'em do what he needs, but sometimes that's a mixture of what he still remembers about the, uh, 'good old days', their creator, and a kind of...

Instinct? ]

Knock yourself out. [ One of them seems to be tracking Colin's movements with the light filling its eye sockets. Considering it's Colin, that's unlikely a trick of the light or a figure of the imagination. The curiosity, it seems, is mutual. ]

They'll do their own thing if I let 'em run loose, but, uh. They ain't exactly house-trained, know what I mean?

Interesting, that implies a measure of agency.

[He smiles at the blasters, both of them.]

I apologize for talking about you briefly as an object. New experiences and all that. If I cross a line, please tell me so.

So, you guys will give Sans a run for his money if he lets you off the leash, huh? Can you understand me? Do you even want to?

[A glance to Sans]

How's their temperament if left to their own devices?

[ And Sans has a habit of robbing people of their agency. But really, the Blasters can be... dangerous. So Sans keeps a tight rein on them. Not just dangerous to others, but scared humans have a tendency to kill monsters. Sans enjoys maintaining a certain reputation for harmlessness for personal safety.

The pair of Blasters don't seem to acknowledge what Colin's saying so much as the being saying it, as one of them inches forward to bump what approximates its snout against him. The other tries to investigate, too, but upon brushing too close to the other, it turns to assert its personal space.

They're very... dog-like? ]

Complicated. But let's say it ain't an option here. The point bein', we could make more of these, maybe. Hell, could even be useful. But, uh... Not so sure we should. What if the stuff the Queen pulls on us gets pulled on these guys?

That's a very good point.

[He raises his hands, palm up, for the blasters to investigate. He's not terribly worried, but you better believe he knows better than to just straight up touch anything without it being comfortable with the possibility.]

You two seem really big, really strong. I bet this is the first time in a long while you've had the chance to get to know someone, huh?

[Soft, welcoming tone. No aggressive body language. Just let them get to know the situation and the person on their own.]

They seem territorial, which is certainly understandable. Especially if that glow indicates what I think it indicates.

Still, a little trust, given and received, goes a long way. I won't put it past the queen, but neither would I put it past the other creatures here to respond accordingly.

Just like these two are in the "please don't turn against us" category, the same can be said for many of the other creatures here. And I certainly wouldn't want to be the shadows or the queen when it passes. Some of them have long memories... And decidedly less restraint or consideration of consequences when they decide it's time to bite a threat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[video] (It's long. Sorry.)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject