dualislogs | Midnight, not a sound from the pavement

Midnight, not a sound from the pavement

WHO: All residents of Dualis + special guest stars
WHAT: Strap in, kiddos, it’s a ~memshare~
WHERE: In your head. Or, you know. Everywhere you go to escape that.
WHEN: August 15-24
WARNINGS: Don’t forget these if they’re applicable!

It’s been a few months, Dualis, how are you settling in? New arrivals, we know it’s sudden, but we hope you’re making new friends already and settling in well! You’re all gonna fit in juuuust fine around here.

Things have calmed down after the supposed terrorist attacks during the Dualis Days celebration, and there’s still no news about that strange network broadcast. But maybe that’s for the best, right? See, the Head really does have everything under control.

But speaking of heads…

Over the course of these next few days, yours might be feeling a little funny. Maybe you just aren’t quite feeling like yourself. Or there’s an ache that just won’t quite go away. Or maybe you’re perfectly fine! Which is completely optimal, honestly.

Except--that memory you suddenly have. Is that really yours? And what about those fainting spells that seem to come with premonitions...or are you perhaps remembering something you repressed long ago? You’d probably remember something like this, though, wouldn’t you?

It’s perfectly natural to be concerned. However, if you approach your friendly neighborhood MedBot or clinician, they’re going to be pretty stumped. It appears there's nothing really wrong with you, but hey, here's some mild painkillers if you want them. And if you try and consult the Head, all it’ll be able to do is give you it’s most sincere condolences. It seems that there may have been some complications with the transfer process, but these should definitely wear off soon! In the meantime, why not visit your local clinic for a sedative and some painkillers?

Good luck, denizens. Looks like you’re in for a bumpy week or two...

[[As a reminder, these memory shares can happen at any point in time during the span of the event, not just when your characters are sleeping! You're also welcome to have them experience no side effects at all, all the way up to fainting spells and headaches a la Cordelia circa season 2 of Angel. Feel free to reach out to your friendly neighborhood mods if you have any questions!]]

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Siren #Cole #Dog

Summary: Hank is cheered up after his divorce by Cole being cute. Sumo is there as a puppy. Cole is very young.

Edited 2019-08-16 15:06 (UTC)

The worst thing about these headaches, Nida realizes, is that he's not alone in them. At all. Of course, seeing people go through the same awkward distraction as he is isn't all the helpful. Especially when he sees a woman start walking into oncoming traffic.

Nida moves fast, as fast as he can, driving a gust of wind before him at the woman from the magic on his arm. It makes her stumble forward a step, puts her enough off balance that when Nida tackles her from behind, she goes down. He rolls them both out of the way of the car before pulling her over between two parked cars.

The thanks he gets? Being pummeled by her purse while she screams for a cop or Iteration, screams for help like he's trying to grab her purse or assault her or something. Nida just keep his hands up and away from his face, showing he's unarmed. And getting pummeled anyway.

Which of course is the PERFECT time for him to be assaulted by the memories of a man fondly watching his child at the park, drawing pictures, laughing with a puppy.

What even is his life?

"Hey," the rougher, less proud version of that father's voice rings out.

"What's going on here?"

Hank wanders up, and even if he's pretty much still bottom rung he can at least stand there and sort out what's going on. Nida's a little overeager to help, and this woman seems to be a little overeager to accuse. Seems like he might have a Karen on his hands. Or is she a Myrtle? There is a point in life where one sort of young self-assured manner of asshole transitions into another.

(He is also aware he's no acception.)

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to stop assaulting that man and creating a public disturbance."

Hank's over near her, hand resting on his radio unless she makes a big stink. He certainly is, speaking loudly enough in that booming voice that he's drawn some eyes towards her. Which, in his experience, there's a point when self-righteous judgment can either turn into embarrassment that makes someone back down, or into a petulant fury that gives him the right to arrest.

"He assaulted me!" the woman protests to Hank, but she does stop striking Nida.

"She was zoning out and there was an oncoming car," Nida counters. "I saved your life."

He does take a step back out of purse-whapping range, but he doesn't look like he's about to flee. Don't fuck with the cops, he knows better than that.

"You should arrest him!" the woman continues on, pointing an accusing finger at Nida.

"Next time, I'll just let the car hit you," he grumbles. But he refuses to bank on his familiarity with the cop for his own sake. The woman's complain is legitimate, if stupid.

"I'm not arresting anybody!" Hank bites back. Also not banking on his familiarity, because if anything he's seen Nida already throw himself into compromising situations for the sake of heroics.

"Look, how about I take a statement, I get both your information and IDs, and then we check the security footage. Because the guy isn't runnin'. And you're not runnin'. And we can work this out like adults."

He pulls out an electronic pad to take statements. "Alright. So. What happened?" he asks her. "Including if you zoned out or not."

Adults don't pummel heroes with bags, Nida bites back. But damn if he looks like he wants to say it.

The woman does go through her testimony, and admits she doesn't REMEMBER zoning out. Nida provides his own, given with military precise run downs, from estimated car speed, to distances in metric measurement, to a presented case for why he used the wind-magic first. Military, through and through, even slips without realizing it into attention as speaking, his chin up and his voice precise and completely detached from the emotion of the situation.

But damn if the woman doesn't look like she's about to whack him for that.

"Is that sufficient, officer?"

The great thing about this is it's eating time. Both parties have to wait, and wait, and cool down, and wait (so long as they don't start fighting). It's often said that police work is "a waiting game" and it works to both detriment and benefit.

"So I have your statement, it's recorded. I've got you IDed. We probably have tapes of the incident because of the local businesses. No one fled the scene. Do either of you want to press charges? Which would possibly require a trip to the hospital and an inspection by a medical officer if violence or severe mental harm is necessary to record. Or?

"We could leave the incident as it is."

Hank gestures between them.

The woman definitely doesn't look willing to wait that much longer. She gives a frustrated noise and flounces off in a huff. Nida just shakes his head.

"I was just trying to help," Nida promises the older man. "Dizzy enough without getting pummeled."

Stupid memory of that playground toy. Just thinking about it was making him dizzy.

"Yeah, no fuckin' kiddin'." He says judgmentally, holding his head.

"I've had a fuckin' headache all day. It never did wear off. And this has been happening to everybody. We've had three major accidents and I've not even had lunch yet. At this rate I'd fuckin' declare a public health crisis or somethin'. It's dangerous."

He looks up and down the street, dusts off his uniform jacket, and gestures to Nida. "You'll make it home alright? Right? I wouldn't stay out longer than necessary while this is goin' on."

Nida shrugs.

"I mean, last time something along these lines happened to me, I was kidnapped to a mountain top and shown the memories a bit less invasively. And none of the ones I saw were good. Still, your dog looked cool. For, you know, being a dog."

Dogs are terrible and make him sneeze.

Hank stops in the middle of finishing up his report, pausing and jerking his gaze up towards Nida.

"My dog? As in Sumo?"

There's a certain feeling people get when they find out people have seen something private, heard a conversation where you bitched about them, found out that your most embarrassing high school pictures are being ridiculed. It makes him prickle up, like he can feel the blood shoving through the capillaries in his hands and the back of his neck. He can feel the extra pound of his heart, as it just occurs to him, only then, that's what his might not be just his anymore.

"Yeah. He's a good dog." He manages, despie obviously being rattled.

At least Nida isn't commenting on his son. The fact that Hank had said the only thing back home for him was his dog and the android... he has to assume something happened to the son. And he won't comment on it.

"You didn't know why people were losing focus, did you?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' knew. It's been happening all fuckin' day. I just didn't know that... I didn't think that-"

He doesn't know that Nida saw anything else. Just his dog. Sumo's not so bad, right? But he can't quite shake the look like a vice is around his heart just then.

"Just didn't have enough time to fucking think about it."

He exhales a hard sigh, pulls himself together, and decides to not think about it. Not right now.

"It's not been happening to me too often. All I have is a headache and I'm used to working with that on a bad day." Who knew chronic hangovers would be a beneficial thing.

"Lucky you. I'm having a hard enough time so much as sleeping," Nida admits. But that doesn't mean his reflexes have gone to shit. He had tried to help that woman right away, because that was what you did.

"Too bad we can't just tell everyone to stay home until this passes, and have the robots serve us," Nida shrugs. No way people would be okay with that. Hell, Nida wouldn't even do it himself.

"They could at least put out some sort of fucking advisory. If people can get their asses inside in case of a thunderstorm they can get inside in case of losing their damn minds." Some people would take the advice, and at least some people inside and remaining calm with other people would be better than bewildered fucks strolling into traffic.

"Not a big fan of robot service. But at least take my advice and stay indoors when you can. Not at home, just indoors. Being out in the street right now isn't great."

He doesn't actually expect Nida to take his advice. But it's worth giving. The man's not invulnerable. No one is here.'

Really, Nida isn't going to take his advice, and they both know it, so why play at it? Nida just shakes his head as he looks at Hank.

"It's not that simple, and you know it. Lives have to continue. Work, buying food, those sorts of things. The streets, though? Those should be blocked to cars until this passes."

People weren't as likely to fuck themselves over as bad without heavy machinery to mow them over.

Edited 2019-08-18 00:03 (UTC)

"Well, you see? That's the problem. It is absolutely that easy. A warning of dangerous conditions isn't a curfew. It's not a hard restriction. It's not martial law. It's just saying, 'Things aren't the best right now. Stay inside when you can. Don't get out for no reason. Go for your job if you gotta. Go buy all the bread and milk in the store if that floats your fuckin' boat but stay in.'

"What gets me, though?"

He pulls out his phone. Opens up a browser. Turns to the news. Nothing but sunny thoughts.

"Nothin'. A warning would be too much trouble I guess. They're not even publicly saying this shit is happening. People have to go directly to the Head. Head is shrugging it off. You'd think..." he puts the phone away, "...that a 'warning' wouldn't be such a hard damn thing to do."

Hank sure as shit wishes he'd listened to storm warnings on one particular night. That cost him his world. "Anyway, I think I'll still be asking people to stay off the streets when I can."

Edited 2019-08-18 01:55 (UTC)

"Why would anyone ever admit there's trouble in their utopia?" Nida asks, voice hard. Sorry, Hank really got him hard with the very idea of martial law. He's lived under that. He's suffered under that. The concept gets his hackles up.

"I wish you the best with that, Hank. But people? We rarely do what is best for us."

"People might not unplug their TVs when they hear thunder but they'll at least try not to be in the middle of a wet rainy field. I'll take my chances."

He just got his hope in humanity back. He won't bend it to someone's kneejerk reactions. That last thing he wants is for this to become a dictator state.

He used to do High School assemblies. If someone can do more one of those? Then they can find the commitment to at least trying.

Unplug their tvs? People have those in their homes? Nida is a bit shocked. He isn't used to it. And he says it as a guy who was born in the town that was the center of broadcast for his world. Before it didn't work anymore.

"I know you will. You're a good man," Nida answers, because he's seen Hank through his own eyes.

"Well if you saw me with Sumo you saw me with one of the best things in the world. Not so nice to other assholes."

He still doesn't know that he saw Cole. But in reality, his time with Cole was when he was the best of himself. Someone who not only wanted to help the world, but had a future to invest in and something to light up his life when work wasn't weighing him down.

"Yeah, I did," Nida agrees. How Hank was with the best thing in the world. That sort of fondness? Almost makes Nida wonder if having kids would be worth it. But it won't ever happen. He just has to move forward.

"I really like you, Hank. A lot more than I ever expected I could. Wish there had been more considerate adult guys in my life growing up. Didn't exactly have role models growing up. Mercenary academies suck for that."

There's that strange, sinking feeling again. That it's more than Sumo. He's both deeply complimented and feeling ill in the pit of his stomach.

"You saw him, didn't you?" he gathers from the line of conversation. That positive male role models were few and far between. Tales of that same military school Squall mentioned coming to mind.

"Little boy, about six or under. Dark blond hair. Sort of had the uh... teeth like mine." He motions to his own mouth, meaning the tiny gap between his two front incisors. They're otherwise perfectly straight and aligned other than that notable exception, something he'd shared with his son.

"Cole," Nida confirms, his works soft and sad. He gets it. He gets the pain of this. "I'm sorry. I know that is very private. I didn't want to see it. I didn't..."

He didn't ask for it. At all.

His expression isn't necessarily schooled or nuetral. It's vacant. Lot turning around and being reminded his wife is a pillar of salt.

"What did you see?"

Most situations with him were good, the most profoundly bad one being the last one. Something his mind revisits far too often as it is.

Midnight, not a sound from the pavement

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