Baby lately the plans we're making

[headandhand]

WHO: Open to all Dualizens
WHAT: Your regularly scheduled NAPs event for the month
WHERE: Our Crazy Jane's Gallows!
WHEN: January 7-10
WARNINGS: Please use these if applicable!

Look at all of these bright, shining new faces! There’s even a few less bright, less shining faces - maybe even a few folks without faces - but hey, this city welcomes all types. Chances are, if you’ve just arrived, you're seeing some pretty crazy things, unless you're used to an eye-blinding amount of neon, robots, weird-ass technology, magic, and an omnipresent police force...and hey, if you are, congrats, you're gonna settle in just fine! But for the rest of you, the Head knows this is gonna be pretty overwhelming, right?

Well, since your quaint individual processing units are probably having a hard time, why not link up with another one? By which the Head means...

Hello, new citizens of Dualis,
and welcome to your monthly Network Adjacency Protocol~!


NAPs are a monthly community networking event similar to the Earth concept of speed dating. Two citizens (new arrivals and old hands alike) are placed at a table together with a handy cue card of queries to help break the proverbial ice. Ask (possibly invasive) personal questions and receive results - or ignore the card and yeet yourself straight into a brand new friendship, whatever works! But don't be too shy - you've only got ten minutes together, and if you just sit in silence for the whole ten, the Network Admins are likely to come supervise and try to repair the uplink through a mild shock to the ol' central nervous system. You might find yourself saying all sorts of unintended facts about yourself if that happens...probably better to just make friends, right? Who doesn’t like friends?!

Upon arrival, most will be ushered in by the Admins into the Gallery. Just ignore that large painting on the graffiti wall. Once inside you can begin to mingle and meet your fellow Dualizens, the city has also provided box wine, crackers and cheese as refreshments, a lovely Charcuterie spread laid out for any to sample while looking at the art and mingling.

This month there are two other lovely items for your amusement or horror! First off is a Karaoke machine, how the hell did they pull off getting every song you can think of with lyrics to all? Though, nearly every foul word is replaced with the sound a goose honking, have fun with that! Also, along with your normal note cards of questions you will find blank paper and kiddie packs of crayons. Make some art and leave it behind or leave it for your new friend!

Comments

Crazy Jane | OTA

[fuckregularpeople]

Crazy Jane

This is it. NAPs are happening in her gallery, people are updating the Head on their lives under her very own roof, the room is full of Admins, she has no choice but to be here, and the fuckers have dragged in a karaoke machine. This is literally one of Jane's nightmares come to life. Trying to get them out of there just results in one of those sedating shocks and by the time she regains consciousness they've opened the wine and brought in a charcuterie plate.

That's not even the last time she gets sedated. She should just accept that this is happening, but Jane is not good at making things easy on herself. And this is her place – she's the one person here who can't be removed unless she commits a crime. And is she ever taking advantage of that.

When things get into full swing and the hum of conversation is unimpeded by bad singing, Jane screams. She screams as if she's being murdered, a loud piercing peal full of horror and rage. She screams as if her entire psyche just shattered, fingers clenched in her hair and tears welling from her eyes. It continues for perhaps twenty seconds, and ceases as suddenly as it started. Then she goes right back to tidying up or pointing people towards the bathroom or continuing the NAPs sessions she finds herself in.

She does this about once per hour, or whenever she starts feeling too overwhelmed. If she can't stop the Admins from being there, maybe she can at least drive the visitors out. And if anyone complains, there is a reason she's called Crazy Jane.


Hammerhead

If Jane wants people out, Hammerhead is the one to eject them. They'd never gotten around to assigning positions in the Gallows beyond Owner: The Hangman's Daughter, Legal Proxy/Proprietor: Crazy Jane, but if they had, the six-foot super-strong tattooed punk girl trapped in a 5'3” body would've been Bouncer. Which was not a position for which art galleries generally needed help, but it did now. Now, more visitors are breaking the rules than ever before, even rules that didn't exist until this NAPs nightmare started.

"HEY ASSHOLE!" Hammerhead barks, rounding on a patron who's just spilled their wine on the hardwood floor. "Motherfucker, you've got three options. You either wipe that up, get the fuck out, or I make you lick it off the floor! What's it gonna be, dipshit?"


Baby Doll

This place was busy and it was loud and Baby Doll didn't like the food and she hated the scary art on the walls and she didn't know any of the people milling around. Some of them looked so scary, they seemed more like monsters than real people and she shies away from anyone non-human based on sight. It's scary here and she hates it. Although none of the visible non-humans have threatened her, Baby Doll curls up into a ball in a corner, resting her chin on her knees and thinking about how awful everything here is.

She thinks about it until tears gather in her eyes and her shoulders shudder in a sob. Then the waterworks are flowing, and she can't stop. She's tired and hungry and scared and there are too many strangers around. The little girl weeps openly, hugging herself and shuddering as she takes deep breaths.

"I – wanna – go – home!" she wails between sobs, teary eyes shut as her pigtails shake with her gasps. "Everything here's gross!" And that admission unleashes a fresh torrent of tears.


Dr. Harrison (CW for song lyrics about suicide)

So, a hostage situation designed as a meet-and-greet. Dr. Harrison is very familiar with these. This one is not as clinical as a forced psychotherapy session, but she is far more comfortable than the other personalities in this environment. Even with the extra surveillance the Admins provided she's confident, surveying the room with an air of extraordinary calm. When she can, she listens in on NAPs conversations to gather her own information. When someone approaches her she looks at them with clear blue eyes, greeting them with a small and professional smile.

"You look as if you have a lovely voice," she says, her own voice smooth and silky as chilled cream. It seems to seep into the listener's brain, and everything she says sounds like such a good idea. "Have you considered singing? Perhaps the song 'Child Psychology'?"

Even if you don't say yes, it's fine. She's convinced four other people to sing it in the last hour.

Jane!

[mobilityassistance]

This is certainly not the sort of place with which EDI is familiar, but finding that she's not permitted to leave, well...she'll just have to get used to it. If she thinks of it as something similar to before she obtained this body, it's bearable. She'd been essentially tied to the Normandy before, though, granted, the ship was much larger.

She ignores the first scream--she knows enough not to just interject herself into things and the woman doesn't appear to be in any obvious distress beyond the screaming. The second draws more of her attention, the third finally pulls her over to check on the poor girl. She might not be human, but she does understand that this isn't normal behavior for them.

She's careful approaching, though, uncertain of what the reaction will be. She's not been here long enough to know who's safe.

"Are you well?"

[fuckregularpeople]

The screaming helps a little. It doesn't release the stress from seeing her space invaded and being helpless against it, but it relieves the pressure a little. After the primal scream therapy Jane takes a deep breath and continues rearranging chairs that have been pushed too close to some paintings.

Jane glances at EDI, who looks like Cliff 2.0 but this time female and blue. She was wound up to say something sarcastic, but instead shrugs. Kind of familiar, a robot asking her if she's okay.

"I'm stuck here, so my day's been shitty. Bet you can relate."

[mobilityassistance]

"Some. Although I haven't yet resorted to screaming." Her tone is about as dry as her mechanical voice can convey--she definitely needs to work on the humor some. But hey, at least she's trying to make friends? Even if it seems like most of the people here don't want to even be caught in the same building as her.

"I must inquire as to whether or not is helps."

[fuckregularpeople]

"Lucky you." Jane's flippant as ever as she scoots the chairs a few feet away from the wall. She wasn't embarrassed about screaming, so EDI didn't upset her by bringing it up. She doesn't mind EDI being there, either. It doesn't occur to Jane that she might be an Admin because she hadn't seen her come in with that group.

"It doesn't hurt if that's what you mean." She looks at EDI again and just sighs. Might as well accept the robot's help. "I'm Jane."

[mobilityassistance]

"I suppose so. I imagine it will come eventually." Probably not seeing as apparently Jane was the only one doing so, but it did seem to be about as effective as anything else going on at getting them out of the building.

She almost gives her full "name," if you could call it that, but pauses for an imperceptible fraction of a moment before changing her mind. Not all that noticeable to an organic, perhaps, but an eternity for her.

"You may call me EDI."

[fuckregularpeople]

"Probably." Since it came so naturally Jane assumed everyone would scream eventually -- or at least everyone who'd suffered through some of the issues and treatment she had. At the moment it seemed to be just her.

It's not too strange to this organic and Jane just nods. "EDI, sure. I'd ask if I could get you something but I think I know the answer." After meeting Connor that sounds a little racist so she amends her statement. "Uh, I had a roommate who looked like you and he couldn't eat or drink anything. Can you?"

[mobilityassistance]

"No, although I thank you for the consideration. This unit does not require food or drink to operate. In fact, I would prefer to avoid introducing liquids into the circuitry." Haha. It would probably do nothing, but she's good at jokes, right?

"There are other synthetics here? From the reaction of others, I had guessed they were uncommon."

[fuckregularpeople]

"Okay, cool. That makes it easier for me." Jane's fine with avoiding the act of loading compounds into nutrition tanks or whatever robots/AIs need. And EDI is amazing at jokes. So amazing Jane blinks at her and then shakes her head.

"Whatever. There are a couple here you can talk to if you want, I guess. My roommate isn't here though, sorry. Can't hook you up with him."

[mobilityassistance]

"A couple" is about as uncommon as it gets, but at least she isn't entirely alone. Granted, she is somewhat used to being outnumbered, but she does know how to protect herself. Only with Jeff seemingly gone, she'll have to be a little more careful. No passing herself off as a "mobility assistance unit."

"Thank you. I will attempt to make contact with them when I can." Another short pause, and then-- "May I ask why you were screaming?"

Dr. Harrison

[magneticfields]

Erik makes a point of attending these functions, even if "small talk" is one of his weakest points. Still, hope springs eternal that more mutants will arrive. Or some interdimensional portal will open up and he'll be able to escape.

He observes the artist behaving in ways beyond even that of the expected idiosyncrasies of the creative mind. But she also seems to be incredibly stressed, if the screaming, threatening, and sobbing are any indication. He's not an empath, of course. He can't read her mind but he does notice things like that.

When she approaches him, he's in the process of trying to convince himself that the wine isn't that bad, really, and offers a slight but apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar. And Polish lullabies aren't really the sort of thing that keep a party in full swing." Whoever is singing next steps up to the machine, and takes the mic as the first few guitar chords strike up. He makes a face.

"Hotel California again?" He shakes his head and mutters to himself. "Fucking hate The Eagles."

[fuckregularpeople]

"No, presumably they wouldn't be." Dr. Harrison offers a similarly small smile back. When he complains about the Eagles song she notes it, glancing toward the singer with mild interest. "Classic rock music isn't to your liking?" It could hardly be argued that the song wasn't appropriate. "This must be a difficult meeting for you."

She sits back and offers him the space to speak, if he so wishes. Whereas some of the other personalities would be too caught up in their own frustration to listen, she's curious what he has to say.

[magneticfields]

"It's not exactly classic where I'm from. And no, not exactly to my taste." He shakes his head at the question. "The music leaves something to be desired, but I'm appreciating the work on display."

This is genuine. Erik has a great interest in the arts. He's particularly interested in the graffiti wall painting. Who could have predicted that one?

[fuckregularpeople]

"Interesting. And where are you from, where Hotel California is current?" And, more importantly, why is he here now? What is it about him that had made him a candidate for this city?

He seems intelligent and set in his opinions, certainly, but there must be more to him than that. "What is it about the art that speaks to you?"

[magneticfields]

"When am I from might be the more relevant question there, don't you think? Most places, Hotel California is never relevant." He is envious of that. "Are you among the fortunate?"

And evasive. But he doesn't want to give too much up about himself without getting anything in return. Call it a force of habit.

"it's expressive. It has something to say. Something that isn't simple ostentatious onanism." The capitalist system of the modern American art scene has left him dissatisfied. While he will defend to the death an artist's right to express themselves however they choose, because to do otherwise is fascist, the power brokers determined to make a profit off of it have hollowed out the entire process. It's worse than censorship. It's reducing a conversation, a protest, an expression of something real to a trinket. "Is the entire exhibit the same artist? That is what I was lead to believe."

[fuckregularpeople]

"Most places," Dr. Harrison reaffirms, smiling. "I take it the record is an overplayed recent release for you." She tilts her head. "The fortunate? As in those who have avoided this song? No. I remember the 70s."

There. Now he had something, and hopefully would offer more.

This display is uninhibited by the stifling art market, at least: the gallery wasn't intended to exhibit "high" art that would be bought at inflated prices to drive up social status. This man clearly appreciated that, showing a requirement for both excellence and rarity. "I believe the majority of the exhibit is one artist's work. You would have to ask the gallery owner for more information."

Now she's curious about his thoughts on the paintings and turns toward the nearest. Atmospherically eerie, it portrays a gray-haired woman in a leotard, cradling a twisted leg as tears drip down her face. "What are your thoughts on this painting?"

[magneticfields]

Erik spent most of the '70s in solitary confinement. "The popularity of The Eagles has, unfortunately, continued despite their disbanding. There's a rumor that they may reunite soon. One shudders to think."

He nods at the explanation. "It would appear that artists are not high on the Head's priority list when choosing guests." There's a bit of an edge on the word "guests", as this is obviously not what they are. "More's the pity." He turns his attention to the piece she indicates, and observes it in silence for a moment. "The artist is technically skilled, that is clear. Beyond that, art is subjective, isn't it? The feelings it evokes in the viewer is going to reflect their own thoughts on things." He rubs his mouth with the side of his fingers. "I suppose there's a few of us who could relate to the notion of... losing that which makes us unique. Something that brings us joy. Having such things taken from us."

Like his own powers, which the Head is dampening.

[fuckregularpeople]

So did Jane, she just found opportunities to escape. It helped that she was a fairly normal mental patient before she received the injection that gave her superpowers in 1977. "I'm sure you're made of tough enough stuff to survive," Dr. Harrison says with a slight smile.

"No, it would appear not." Those versed in the creative arts don't seem to be the Head's focus, but truth be told she's having trouble determining exactly what it does want. Erik can help her with this, his answers deeply intriguing. She notes the value he places on skill, as well as the meaning he ascribes to the ballerina painting. Both are interesting, and she notes his body language as he speaks about it.

"Thank God we've got nothing to worry about, right?" Dr. Harrison aims a cool smile at Erik, well aware she's being observed. "Joy is so attainable here."

Jane!

[notalive]

He's been looking out for Jane from the minute he realised where they were, exactly because he didn't think she consented to this in the slightest.

So when he hears the first scream, he makes an immediate beeline towards it, weaving through throngs of people to find the source of the scream.

...Which has stopped by the time he gets there, leaving only Jane, acting for all the world like she didn't just possibly tear her throat screaming so hard.

"I thought you'd be hard to find," he says as he reaches her. "But you made it pretty easy."

[fuckregularpeople]

Connor knows her well, clearly. If they ever figure out who sets up NAPs, pity that poor fucker because Jane is going to torture them to death slowly. Which is a nice image that's helping her last through this nightmare.

Jane glances from him around the small gallery. "Yeah, I thought about sending up a flare." Still a possibility, if some people in her head get sufficiently riled.

"What do you think they'd do if I locked everyone in and went home?"

[notalive]

Sending it up or sending it horizontally to hit anybody not fast enough to get out of the way? He doesn't ask - he might give her ideas.

"They wanted people to come and socialise, you're just helping the process." ...Then he adds, "Just don't set fire to anything before you lock the doors."

Another idea he was a bit reluctant to put out into the world.

"Did they tell you this was going to be happening?" he asks a bit more seriously. "Did you even have time to hide anything?"

[fuckregularpeople]

Oh no, that's a wonderful idea and Jane's face brightens momentarily as she considers it. She couldn't do it with people around, obviously, and the gallery has a large glass window which could make an easy escape route, but there's something to that. Admins trapped in a building burning would be just fine by Jane.

"They didn't tell me shit," she growls, low. "They know I hate them. Why would they give me time to do anything?"

[notalive]

He grimaces - of course they didn't show any basic consideration for Jane. Not even because she hates them, just because basic consideration for anybody in the city is beyond those who run it. Especially the ones who are going to die and not care anymore within a few months.

"What's her name?" he asks, suddenly realising that though he knows that Jane's alter painted these, he doesn't know who. "The one who painted all these."

[fuckregularpeople]

Thus no basic consideration. Why would the Head change its own habits to maintain its citizens' comfort when it could change the citizens instead?

"Why do you care?" she spits, not at Connor so much as the situation: the last thing she wanted to do was give away any personal information in front of an Admin. Jane has more hate for them than she does for even the Iterations. Iterations are mindless and formidable enemies, but with the Admins, it's fucking personal. "Does it matter?"

[notalive]

"It matters to me," he says simply. "We've all invaded her privacy, the least I can do is ask her name."

He doesn't want to look at the pictures, but he's an android: it's hard not to see them and process them, even out of the corner of his eye. And leaving means he misses seeing the new faces, committing them to memory and knowing who he can even tentatively consider trusting in the future.

"You don't have to, though," he adds. "I guess it's the one private thing she's got left at this point."

Art is a person recreating what's already inside themselves, after all. So he understands.