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

[headandhand]

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.

Comments

[notalive]

He nods along with the explanation, the implication that this guy has experience of 'not in terms of normal Earth hornets'. That's just not something that should really surprise Connor all too much anymore.

"You can make a flamethrower?" This, however, does surprise him. A lot of the people who've come here came with their abilities built in. Controlling metal, reading minds, telekinesis, all sorts of things that are fascinating to watch, but ultimately beyond Connor. He's also met doctors, soldiers and engineers, people who have regular skills they've mastered completely. This is something in between. It feels past regular, but not beyond.

'Brother' makes him blink a little, but he recovers quickly, more than fast enough to catch the coin that bounces off the table and hurls straight at him - he catches it between two fingers, even, because something in him oddly makes him want to keep up.

"I started practicing this so I can calibrate my reactions," he says, casually flicking the coin and dog tag back and forth between his hands, each hitting the opposite hand at the same time. "Then I realised I just liked doing it."

He takes an extra couple of seconds with the dog tag walking across his fingers to calculate the right force and angle, then flicks the coin down so that it bounces off the table and back towards its owner.

[be_notorious]

He catches it as it comes back, walking it between his fingers similarly to how Connor did.

"I guess somethin' like that is the reason I started."

He needed to be fast and accurate. There was no room for fumbling in a gunfight, in sneaking information, in anything involving his businesses. Drifter needed to be perfect.

"I can build a lotta things. Space ships. Armor. If I put my mind to it, I'll figure out how to rig it up. Usually I build it out of scrap too, cheaper that way." And often untraceable. "What about you, kid? What special skills do you got, an' which ones would you like to have?" Another one of those mental exercise questions.

[notalive]

“I’m a detective model android,” he explains, spinning the dog tag and gently bouncing it fingertip to fingertip. “I have some limited scanning capabilities, an inbuilt forensics suite, weapons proficiency and combat training. Then some functions that don’t work here - I need an internet connection and Dualis doesn’t let me use it.”

He bounces the coin a little higher and catches it edgeways between two fingers.

“I don’t know what I’d add to that. Maybe something more mundane.” He thinks about it as he walks the tag across his fingers again. “Cooking, maybe. I’m not interested in making anything artistic, but most people eat.”

It’s an interesting skill and it’s useful.

... Maybe he thinks too much about what would be useful.

"What useless skill would you give yourself if you had the chance?"

He doesn't think either one of them thinks coin tricks are useless.

[be_notorious]

"Android? Hell... been a long time since I heard anyone even talkin' about makin' one. I figure after the exos came around, nobody saw the point. Already had mechanical people around. They were people enough, didn't need to put skin on 'em or nothin'. But they did a real good job on you, I never woulda been able to tell."

Without having his ghost scan, anyway, and his ghost's limitations are very similar to the one Connor's experiencing.

"Problem is I don't see any skills as useless but I guess I could learn to whistle or somethin'. Find every way to run my mouth possible." He chuckles at himself, raising a hand and offering to catch the dogtag that Connor's using with a wriggle of his fingers.

"So, Detective. What's been your favorite thing to investigate?"

[notalive]

He hesitates a split-second - this is Hank's, and he doesn't want to just give it away - but, figuring he can always ask for it back, he obligingly flicks the dog tag out of his fingers and bounces it from the table at an angle where it should then come at the other man's proffered hand.

"I haven't seen much variety yet." In the absence of anything else to mess with, he taps restlessly on the table. “I was activated to investigate androids who were deviating from their programming, so that’s all I did. We went to places where it looked like an android committed a crime and I tried to figure out what the android did and where they might have gone. We realised pretty quickly that the androids weren’t leaving the crime scene, so there were a couple of chases.

“And now I’m here, I’m a traffic cop. They don’t trust newcomers with important work straight away - my partner’s been a homicide detective for years and he started in Traffic.”

But he considers the question anyway, because he has been lately. It’s been on his mind.

“My first case.” He leans back in his seat, something he doesn’t do all that often - he’s more the type to lean forwards or sit perfectly neutral. “A household android found out his family was going to replace him, and he snapped. He killed the father and took the little girl hostage. I was sent in as the negotiator.”

He looks away for a moment, frowning. “I don’t like the methods I used at the time. They were always going to kill the android and all I could do was lie to him convincingly enough to make him let the hostage go first. But I wish I could have it done it properly, and I want to try that job again.”

Not quite an answer - or rather, an answer that amounts to, ‘I want a different job’. But it’s what he has right now. He’s never really been a detective. He’s just programmed with the skills to assist a “real” one.

“What’s your favourite thing you’ve ever made? And what’s an exo?” Two questions, but they didn’t exactly establish rules here.

[be_notorious]

He catches the 'coin' easily. It's a different shape from what he usually handles, but he does it with as much ease.

"So you wanna be a peace-maker, Brother. No shame in that!" It is, however, the sort of calling doomed to failure in the long run. But hey, a guy deserves to dream.

"Exos were once soldier robots, best anyone can remember. Made during the Collapse. They got the minds of humans in 'em. Not human brains, just their memories an' the skills they had and stuff. They have these dreams of a place, it's called the 'Deep Stone Crypt'." He spreads his fingers, waving them like he's talking about a mystery, the dogtag disappearing. But it reappears and he bounces it so that it flips high, twirling in the air where it could land in Connor's hand if he just holds it out again.

"They don't remember bein' built, but they all dream of that place. Some of 'em have a peaceful stroll, a long walk tryin' to reach it. Some of 'em gotta fight their way there, cut down ever'body they love to make it even halfway. I reckon the dream is about whether they were a loyal soldier or a regular person. But they all get treated like people.

"An' sometimes if they can't handle it. They reset. So if you ever come across one that's got a number at the end of their name? Means they went back to basics and started over. I met a guy where I work? Reset himself forty-two times tryin' to get rid of somethin'. Messed up his ability to remember except for what he wanted to get rid of. That keeps comin' back. Damn tragic, ain't it?"

Then a grin, a wry, tricky one.

"As for the best thing I ever made? It's either my ship, or a portal to a different universe."

That's what he said.

[notalive]

The Exos sound fascinating - he’s virtually hanging on the man’s every word, taking it all in. A race of robots with organic...data in their minds. Human, but not. Android, but not. He’s still watching Drifter as he holds out his hand to let the dog tag land gently on his palm.

"They get treated like people," he echoes. "Has that always been the case?"

Did they have to fight for that before they could fight for everything else they needed?

"A portal to--" Connor narrows his eyes at him. "You're not joking."

And he flips the dog tag skillfully between his hands - then flicks it to his tablemate.

[be_notorious]

Drifter catches it smoothly, then looks at the name 'Rocky' across it again. Looks like a Golden Age dog tag. He's not seen a dog in... hell. Who knows. He's seen Cabal hounds, though.

"Dead serious. I'd love to know how the Head's bringin' us here. But he don't seem too keen on sharin' his ways." He puts it down on the table, pinning it on its rim between finger and wood, and flicks the side so it slowly meanders in Connor's direction in a neat route. Spinning evenly and smoothly and around one of the obstacles on the table.

"But back to the exos- put humans in a state where they're in desperate need, and exos turned out to be just as much people as them. They even fall in love with humans. Hooo boy. I've met a few lady exos that'd never let you forget 'em. Best time to be a good mechanic."

[notalive]

"No, he doesn't," and Connor taps his finger down on the edge of the tag, keeping it upright between his finger and the tabletop. "But if you already know how to travel between universes, what's to stop you finding a way out of here?"

And he flicks the tag himself to send it spinning back around the tabletop.

"Androids like me are people just like humans as well. We have feelings, we need things, we fall in love... It still took humans a while to accept that they should treat us like people, though."

He grins lop-sidedly. "I'm glad your Exos already got there."

[be_notorious]

"I need a road map and a car, pretty much. Like gettin' yanked up and dropped in the middle of nowhere and expected to hoof it out."

But that's not saying he's absolutely not going to try. He is, without a doubt.

"Humans can get over their prejudices so long as they realize they don't have to worry about food in their bellies or roofs over their heads. As long as those are fears for 'em, someone's gonna be a threat. Exos came around when they needed more help than not."

[notalive]

"But you know how to build the car," Connor says, fully leaning into this metaphor. "That might be a start."

It's better than anybody else he's ever met here has.

"I guess that's true," Connor says, considering the notion. "But is there ever going to be a human society where almost nobody has to worry about food or shelter?

"Or is the key to ending prejudice finding a bigger threat to distract everybody?" he adds, wryly.

[be_notorious]

Yeah, he can build the car. With a lot of materials and the right resources, though. That's something that'd also need scrounging up.

And boy, if that let him play with time a little? He was absolutely going to exploit it.

"Yeah, there was one. They called it a 'Golden Age'. A long time ago, when we got our nice friendly Traveller. It made a bunch of hard rocks habitable, moons around jupiter sprouted life. Centaurs at the edge of the solar system could dream up honest to goodness flowers. It was a helluvatime.

"But when that age was done, ever'body who'd gotten used to a world where food and hunger and hate was all gone ended up dyin'. Back to one where only the toughest survived. Exos? Went from a small project to a decent hunk of our worldly population. Cause yeah, they were some of the toughest."