dualislogs | sheets all on the floor just like an ocean ...

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sheets all on the floor just like an ocean ...

WHO: All y’all!
WHAT: Your regularly scheduled NAPs event for the month
WHERE: Fort Pillowtown
WHEN: Oct. 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 juuuuust fine. But for the rest of you, the Head knows this has gotta 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 queries and receive results, or ignore the card and yeet yourself straight into a brand new friendship! 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?!

This month’s event is held at a new, super-comfy all-ages establishment called Fort Pillowtown. As the name suggests, it’s a large indoor space filled wall to wall with permanent pillowforts. There are a variety of sizes, shapes, and colors, with each individual fort constructed of gauzy hanging sheets, strings of soft lights, warm blankets, plush toys, a mini television with on-screen menu for choosing movies to watch and video games to play, and yes, lots and lots of pillows. Snacks and drinks of all sorts are available for purchase, as are whimsical onesies and comfy slippers to wear. Board and card game sets are also available to borrow or buy. Sounds like a dream, right?

So pull up a pillow pile, get to know your new neighbors, and enjoy a well-earned and comfy chill-out session. And hey, if you end up napping at NAPs, rest assured that it’s absolutely allowed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, for one thing when I get promoted, I'm gonna go into Missing Persons. That should actually help me figure out a lot because, you're right, not a lotta people go missing. I can look around and dig up more info that way.

"And second. Gonna see if I can make people rely less on the iterations and more on each other. Seems like a little thing but if people stop defaultin' to the Head for answers then more of 'em might be willing to look around them. Right now, the Heart has just a few people strikin' out for help. Not enough. They need more people and what they have been doing hasn't worked."

Or they would have more.

"Pretty sure I can manage it." He says it like he definitely has a plan in mind. That he's not going to give up on that.

"Do you really think they aren't already watching you?" She's sure Hank's someone they've got a good eye on. Hell, after that meeting, everyone there probably has a few extra eyes on them because she doubts the Heart is as good at covering their tracks, let alone the tracks of a bunch of strangers, as they'd like to think; she almost didn't go for that reason alone,"How much digging do you think you can get away before you're suddenly not here anymore, huh? You think you're that good?"

It's rhetorical; she's not really questioning his skills as an officer. She knows he's good even if he ain't perfect. But she also knows how it might sound; she'll regret it.

After a minute, she continues, as if struck by something,"You know, I've kind of been thinking about that second bit; getting more people. Or at least... getting more people to question what the Head tells them."

"You gotta promise not to snitch, though."

"Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure they are keeping an ey out. And I knew a couple of months ago," he adds without much elaboration, "but I made a decision."

He knew at least two people in the Heart. He knew where their fliers came from. He knew where they got their tech. He'd figured that out scraping along and asking questions. And Hank, even if things are currently better, has developed the unfortunate mindset to always be prepared for when he's not around anymore.

"So this is after your time, but let me warn you about something. During the later teens, Donald fucking Trump is gonna become president. And he's gonna polarize the U.S. Like shit comes out that he lied about how rich he was, that he's building racist fucking concentration camps and claiming immigrants are drug dealers and rapists, that he's he's making shady deals and selling us out to other countries, that he's backtracking on international agreements. But the people that supported him are so brainwashed they refuse to see he did wrong. There were tons of protests. The ones that were actually successful in changing minds? The peaceful ones. Anyone else was just an enemy the fuckin' shithead could save his followers from.

"It's not just the android thing I'm thinkin' of. There's been some crap for a little while. They're not gonna accomplish anything as long as people think the iterations can and should do their heavy lifting. And if I can convince even a couple of people that matter, it won't matter if I'm around or not."

Because even if he isn't killed, he's gonna go home at some point, right?

That's a lot of information to take in and she does so quietly, expression flitting from horror and disgust and then stern thoughtfulness. She hears what he's saying, she really does; revolutions are won through peace, not violence, but the histories she knows don't tell the same story. The one, and maybe the most important thing, she takes away from all he says is this: he's ready for something to happen to him, already thought ahead like it's bound to happen.

Cause it is. Maybe.

"Not every revolution is won with peace, Hank. The slaves didn't get away because people talked it out and changed their minds. The US didn't become a country because King George thought that'd be cool of him. Some revolutions require blood."

"And those people's whose minds you want to change? How are you gonna do that? Because too many people here seem pretty pleased to just let shit go and not care." And blood can be good wake up call, you know.

But she's not pushing for blood. She's not pushing for violence, she just can't see this ending peacefully.

"The revolutionary war was won because of the French and a bunch of rednecks were good at hiding in trees. George Washington didn't have as much to do with it as people like to think. Besides, back then people used muskets and canons and had a whole country to hide in.

"This? This is a sandbox. You blow off a canon, you'll be walking there tomorrow. You wouldn't be making the US. You'd be making Sarajevo or uh... wait, has the Aleppo shit happened for you yet?"

It doesn't matter, though.

"I got a plan." He repeats. Though admittedly that plan is hard to explain. He does have one. "Just gotta ask for help with it. Turns out we gotta people here made of flesh and blood that can do three times what the iterations do from training alone. I get promoted, I have the power to deputize and I got the power to tell iterations to back off in a low-level emergency."

She's clearly never going to go entirely for a peaceful revolution. It makes her wonder how many people are going to side with the Head, throw away their lives for a thing that's just playing dolls with them; they'll deserve whatever happens to them.

"Yeah, we've got some powerful people,"she's honestly not entirely sure what the iterations are entirely capable of, a little afraid to find out,"So, You wanna build a... Dumbledore's Army or some shit?"

Anderson's Army? Hmm, AA hits two notes when it comes to Hank. If he doesn't get a Harry Potter reference, the future is awful and she's resigning from it immediately, thank you. (Never mind it's probably not his kind of book)

"You know I read those books to Cole." Yeah, he does get it, luckily. Cole had liked his dad's voice when it got dramatic.

"I really think if you build up pride in people, they'll fight to keep it. And if people have hardasses that aren't mindless zombie robots? They'll go for it."

So maybe it wouldn't be entirely peaceful. Maybe it would be more peaceful than not. He just doesn't want to see the whole city trashed and a civil war full of victims break out. Nor does he want to see a few renegades dragged away and have their memories wiped/for them to disappear. It would just help if all the aggression was aimed at the large enemy.

Either way, this is the route he's choosing.

The mention of Cole gets a twitch of a grin from her; her dad read her the same books. His Hagrid was her favorite. And now all those books are gone. And so's dad.

Hank has a lot more hope than she does, an honestly surprising if not frustrating amount. He really was the definition of a real good cop—a good person. Maybe that's why she didn't think he was so bad. One day that'll get him killed but he probably already knows that and expects it.

Old asshole.

"I'd like you to be right but people are really fucking selfish and the way the Head seems to run things... it's like there's always something out there, some damn reason, for them not to bother digging too deep or thinking too much."

"This has to be made real for people because right now it's just an all expense paid for vacay to Future Las Vegas. People have to see how bad the Head is, you know?" Find a way to really show them, not just tell dramatic stories in the candlelight. Fear, and rage, are Heather's favorite motivator's; the city needs to be turned against the Head and that either means finding visual proof of an atrocity or two or... finding a trick the Head—she doubts it gets pissed off but that'd be her favorite option.

"Oh, believe me. When that asshole becomes president? You'll see how damn impossible that is."

And that part he sounds exasperated about.

"I probably would have agreed with you twenty-five years ago. But god. Shit got bad. Things only got a little better, too. Not by much. The guy was calling places in Africa 'shithole countries' and telling women reps and senators they should go back to where they came from. Literally called Mexicans 'rapists' in the open and said white supremacists were fine people.

"It's seriously not going to matter revealing any great truth about the head. It fuckin' sucks but god... I'd like it to be true that some great public revelation would fix it. Maybe it will, if they find a longer clickbait headline."

Because, come on, the 'wake up' shit just isn't working. He is capable of his harsh opinions.

The future of her country sounds horrifying, if they're really from the same universe and timeline (however that works, if it works), and she files that all away to worry over when it will matter more to her but his point sticks: there's not proof out there that will change people's minds, not in a world run with propaganda and censorship, not without louder voices and leaders to help guide them.

She frowns, shifting her weight to pull her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and propping her head on top. She's looking past him, thoughtful. Uncertain. She doesn't think she agrees; she barely realizes something in her wants violence—no, no, something more than violence.

"What can I do in all this?" If he's really got a plan, and if he thinks it's going to work, no matter her doubts, it's more than she's got (or more than she's capable of right now).

"Can I be of help?"

"I think you should do whatever you can to make it less valuable. Take the power away from it. And uh... I don't know. If someone needs a place to hide and you think they deserve it? And they're not fuck crazy? Help 'em out."

Admittedly, though, her bar for crazy is set remarkably low. Considering what she's been through.

"A lot of the biggest heroes out there just... kept people from dyin'. Not like the ones in movies. The ones that just stepped up and kep people outa harms way. The ones that actually managed something. Fuck this game, man. Put the fuckin' messed up balls back on. At least then I got an excuse to be bad at it."

Heather's not sure if that's something she can do but it's something for her to consider. She likes to think she'd go out of her way to help those decidedly not nuts, that she's willing to help as long as she's not personally endangered, but that's not entirely true.

"You do kind of suck," Heather agrees, though she has trouble seeing why he'd want to change it back when it'd just be a different endeavor in frustration. She unwraps her arms from around her legs and leans forward to hit the reset button,"but so does this game."

This game. This city.

"Maybe we should try something else? Maybe something like Mario?" All right, they probably don't have Mario but they might have an approximation.

"I haven't played any Mario games since I was ten. But, if there's a side-scrolling Mario? I can play it."

He offers her the room to play around with the game system, folding his hands on his knees.

"I was one of those kids that started playing sports so if we were playing baseball? I'd be doing great." Well. For someone his age. "I actually stopped playing sports in high school because I couldn't stand the asshole players and turned into one of those guys that listened to loud music." And wore those Guy Fieri style shirts that were popular back then. He's shown no improvement in his shirt color options.

"Didn't give video games a second chance. Maybe I should have."

He never thought those and comic books would be as useful as they are now.

Heather fiddles with the game system and scrolls through the available titles as she listens, raising a brow high when he mentions his shift from baseball to music. Honestly, she didn't really peg him as an athlete, but loud music seems to fit with what she knows of him. Metal, she'd guess, or punk (though he seems to enjoy jazz, too). Something a little rebellious. Or a lot rebellious.

"Smart call. You might have turned into an entitled dickbag if you stuck with sports." It should hardly be much of a surprise that Heather has a sour opinion of high school athletes; she lives and breathes outcast, even in Dualis, preferring too often to keep to herself. Bad habits are hard to break.

But she's working on it.

She starts up a new game and the title flashes on screen in a flourish of color. It's Mario if Mario was about a unicorn saving the world from undead wizards. Easy to play, pixelated fun, though it takes Heather a life or two to get the hang of the controls.

"It's not like you don't have the chance now." She passes him the controller after she finishes the first level as if to make some point. He's got the time here.

"I decided I'd prefer to be the regular sorta dickbag." Hank says offhandedly, taking the controller. He can hear the distaste in her tone and, hell, doesn't blame her for it. Even as a sports fan, he knows how athletes are.

"The idea of being involved with people who are damn showy and public like sports kids or cheerleaders or whatever is pretty terrifying when you gotta stay hidden all the time, I'd bet. Make socializing hard as hell. Not to mention those people can single out the new kid, bring a lot of attention."

He mulls it over as he takes the controller.

"Okay, that one's jump, right. This one is spit." It looks like he's spitting fire, okay? He's going to call it spitting, everyone can fuckin' fight him. Now to hit those question blocks.

"I think I might have missed the boat on being a gamer, but that's alright. I can be lazy and awful at it and make you laugh and it's all win win."

"I got pretty damn good at shutting them the fuck up." Heather tells him with a touch of pride in her voice as she watches him attempt to demolish the creatures after his innocent unicorn—though, judging by its attacks, maybe it's not so innocent. Especially since she's pretty sure one of those monsters Hank had jumped on said shit as it died.

This is not a children's game. Where's the ESRB when you need them? Still, it makes her smile and she snorts in her throat when he calls the attack spitting. She'd thought it was more like blowing.... love dust or something but he might be right. No, no, yeah, those demonic zombies are burning.

"Holy shit, this game is way more fucked up than I thought," Her tone implies she's pretty pleased with this,"Jump on the midget murder child! I think it'll give you a 1-Up!"

She jabs him lightly in the ribs as she continues,"Also, you're on the gaming boat right now. Add a few alcoholic drinks and I bet it'd be the best way to waste time after a day at work."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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