towerofanimus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: Waver, Marty, anyone else that stayed topside
Setting: Hidden Floor
Format: Any
Summary: Let's figure out that exhaustion thing!
Warnings: TBA

[The Hidden floor is probably the safest place in the Tower right now, but "safe" is relative when everybody is starting to feel the effects of the new threat.

The infiltration team has a dangerous job, but how well can those who stayed behind prepare for the aftermath when they have their own crisis to deal with?]

[This is a mingly log! Feel free to post your own subthread!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Marty looks calmly down at his outfit, jeans and jeans jacket, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He carefully refrains from remarking that Waver doesn't know what acid washed looks like because that'd just ruin his previous point...]

They aren't acid washed.

[At least his jacket isn't. He had been working on his pants before he got swept up in the time machine.]

Yeah, you're right. I guess... I'm not used to dealing with people anymore.

[In Waver's defense, he was only about nine years old in 1985.]

Join the socially backwards club, kid. Unfortunately, we have much larger things to worry about than conversational skills being at rock fucking bottom, so let's at least attempt to get on a proper track here before things manage to get even worse as they always fucking do.

Right...

[Focus. Got to focus.]

Diarmuid said there's certain floors where the effects are worse... [He points to where he wrote them down, at least somewhat legibly.]

The morgue used to have monsters that'd jump out at you if you weren't careful. Sixteen's the void. The floors around them are mostly harmless... Forty-three and forty-four, the jail and the Eldritch Angles...

[Marty's starting to mumble to himself.]

The last two are insane horror movie sets...

Lovecraft fucking wished he could come up with this shit.

[Flipping through his own notebook, Waver quickly began writing his own reference notes as he spoke.]

The morgue, the void, the prison, and the floor that doesn't make sense...Where's the common thread between them? If this effect worsens only on some floors and not others, that must hold significance.

Yeah, I read some of his stories...

[As unsettling as they were, the Tower took the cake for living it.]

That's what I'm thinking, but I can't find a real pattern so far. Except, spacial stuff, that's kinda Riki's specialty isn't it? Spacial relationships, machines, things like that. There's a few floors with weird space, but that doesn't explain the more normal floors like the morgue...

Spatial relationships...that could be a worthwhile train of thought to follow, except that I don't know how that could lead us to a source of all this. Unless...

[Waver turned a few pages back in his notebook, frowning and muttering to himself:]

Are there other floors with even vaguely similar qualities that don't have that effect? The tower on seventy-five? The storage room on forty? Or maybe I'm on the wrong track; what if the numbers are what's relevant? [He went forward a few pages to where he'd noted the relevant floors.]

[If it wasn't clear by now that Waver was quickly turning desperate, the mad scientist-level muttering continued and even escalated to a sincerely nervous tone by the end.]

Sixteen, twenty-six, forty-three, forty-four, fifty-six, fifty-nine... [Quickly starting to write again, the lecturer did some quick math.] Added together that's two hundred forty-four...multiplied, perhaps? It could work out to some kind of code, or a specific sequence, or I could be bashing my head against a fucking wall because I don't understand this fucking logic!

Hey, take it easy, we'll get it, all right? This isn't time to lose our heads. Doc would...

[He stops, about to say Doc wouldn't lose his head, but let's face it...]

Okay, bad example. Doc would be losing his head by now but he'd come up with the answer. We gotta work how we gotta work. What if this isn't what's important? I mean, it could be a red herring, just something that happened randomly.

But it's kinda weird that it's all in the old floors. Before the last floor push wasn't Fifty-nine one of the upper floors?

[It should be more alarming Marty's memory of the Tower is a little spotty. Maybe if he hadn't done all that book cramming...]

Or... we could ask the computer. That artificial intelligence program. That's Tower technology, right? It knows more than we do. And I could really use a calculator right now...

[Right...of course. He was being irrational. (Although part of Waver's mind argued that 'abject terror' was completely rational given the very pressing situation both here and downstairs.) The magus had hardly eaten and barely slept in at least a week, so of course his stress level was too high to measure. Waver took a few deep breaths to compose himself, trying to focus again.]

I...don't know. I'm not certain how many floors there were to this place when I first arrived, so whether or not specific ones are new or old is something I can't determine. If you're right, that could be coincidence--but I wouldn't completely write it off yet.

[Forcing himself to remain calm, he considered Marty's suggestion and quickly realized he'd overlooked something obvious.]

The AI, of course...I'd honestly forgotten about it. With Aria downstairs, that's probably the only damned help we're getting.

It's all those sci-fi movies.

[He shrugs.]

If it was a number sequence, there would be at least forty floors the next number might land on, but that's probably out there. Fifty-nine minus sixteen is forty three, but that's the only real relationship I can see here. If it isn't numerical or something the floors got in common, it might be the Tower itself, like those floors might have something hidden on them we can't see. Like with floor twenty-three. Didn't they find out there's all those elevators on it?

[Marty remembers hearing about that... somewhere. Maybe it's in one of those reports over there, but it's quicker just to ask.]

It all goes back to the basics; when in doubt, ask somebody who knows. We can ask the AI to check the Tower.

Edited 2014-04-29 22:37 (UTC)

I teach a lot of things, but I can tell you right now none of them are math. Hopefully, the answer's a little more 'reason' and a little less 'calculation'.

That said, I'd say asking that thing would be our best bet. The question now is where to start.

We're just missing information.

[A beat.]

Hey, don't look at me, this tech is still way beyond what I saw in the labs back home. I came from the eighties for god's sakes. I don't know how to work the AI...

[Marty's being grumpy now. Just ignore him.]

Geez, I should have stuck around 2015 longer...

You're goddamn lucky I'm a magus with common sense, most of them would look at a fucking computer and go running in the other direction screaming.

I feel like I should comment on that last remark, but I've been without sleep much too long to care.

Doc didn't tell you about his time machine?

[Normally, this might seem like the start of a joke.]

If he did, I don't recall. Most of our conversations were regarding collar fluid research.

He made one out of a DeLorean. I went thirty years into the future to save my future son from some creeps and serious jail time. If you think our fashions were weird...

[Not even joking. Marty really misses that hoverboard, though. That was sweet.

He goes back to the papers.]

I guess I could try asking the AI. Didn't one of the kids give it a name?

A DeLorean? Christ's sake, could he have picked something a little less ridiculous?

[No.]

...Does it have a name? I can't recall right now.

Hey, DeLoreans are pretty cool. But you know Doc, he probably got it at a discount somewhere.

[Marty might feel a little bit protective of that car...]

I think so? I heard someone calling it something. Anyway, we should rule out all the options here. Sherlock Holmesian stuff. What we need is Samuel T. Cogley.

[He taps a finger against his knee.]

But since we don't have Samuel T. Cogley...

[Yawn!]

We might need a nap first.

DeLoreans were cool. In the seventies and eighties. When everyone's taste was terrible and they didn't know any better.

[Sigh.]

Wake up. [Waver reached over and lightly whacked Marty upside the head.] If we start wasting time now, we may as well just lie about and wait to die. God, your work ethic's worse than that of half my damn students.

Ow! [A glare and a rub where Waver whacked him.]

And iridescent rainbow propeller hats are any better? What the hell did they design those on, mushrooms?

[Okay, it wasn't a propeller hat, but when Waver starts being a jerk...]

Okay, look, Grandpa, we can keep doing this but I don't know if we're going to be coherent if we keep pushing ourselves. I'm exhausted, you're way passed that, would it hurt to at least take a break and eat something? We gotta keep our energy up somehow.

Then we can ask the AI whatever.

...Alright, one: what the fuck are you on about with hats?

Two: my name is Waver, and if you keep that shit up I'll fucking throw you to the cafeteria from here.

Three: Do whatever you bloody well want. I'm staying here and actually getting this shit in some coherent order.

It was something they did in 2015.

[Marty folds his arms and stares up at Waver, not intimidated by the differences in height.]

Hey, look, Waver, I get we don't know each other real well, but you've been working longer than me up here. You're not a robot.

I seriously doubt anyone's going to be wearing anything that stupid in ten years.

[Sheesh.]

Back on topic, I'm a researcher. Working for days on end is something I've done for years. While the concern is noted and yes, even appreciated, I can handle this.

Yeah, but there's tea right there. Are you still going to say no?

[Point made.]

Just because I have the usual London accent doesn't automatically mean I like tea, and you should be deeply ashamed of yourself for making such a stereotype.

Edited 2014-04-30 01:54 (UTC)

Now give me that cup of tea before I hit you again.

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