MISSION ONE: THE TIME MACHINE

[causalitys]

MISSION LOGS

MISSION ONE: THE TIME MACHINE

▐ OBJECTIVES ▐ The machine has malfunctioned, resulting in the random splintering of individuals across time and across the vast expanse of possible realities. Each person pulled has subsequently been recruited temporarily until a solution to return them home has been reached. The first mission is simple: return to the last splinter point the machine reached and retrace the steps of the team to locate any temporal anomalies and record them. Record anything strange or out of the ordinary for missions. The year is 1993, and you are going native. In the 'present', the team should begin a physical document mapping out where the new recruits come from and try to determine if splintering back is possible with their current technology. ▐ OUTCOMES ▐ Characters will have experience using the time machine and players will have chance to explore the past or explore the facility in the 'present'. A brief comprehensive idea of where everyone comes from should be starting to form, with Dr. Jones conducting individual interviews. You can be as vague about your characters personal circumstances as you like, as Dr. Jones will be more interested in the world itself, the year and will make quick character judgement's based on the conversation itself. At the end of the mission, characters should be starting to form connections, however small or significant.

SETTINGS

▐ 1993 ▐ Before you leave, you will be interviewed by Dr. Jones. This can be hand waved for inconvenience. She will ask you only the most pertinent questions: your name, your age, the year you are from. She will ask for as in depth description of your world that you can provide. If you want to elaborate on your personal circumstances, you can. If not, that's fine too. Before you leave, normal protocol takes place. The machine will be explained to you, as will the injections required before hand. The machine itself is dangerous, but the danger of being catapulted across reality again is 0.000001%. Reassuring in every way, of course. You will travel to 1993, Seattle. The only relevant information about this previous mission is the places the team were and anything odd they can recall. You will, however, be free to explore the State and note anything odd. There will be vague temporal anomalies, but nothing big enough to cross the multiverse. ▐ PROJECT SPLINTER INTEL GATHERING ▐ Interviews conducted by Dr. Jones are mandatory. Until you complete it, you will be held in the brigg quarters which, compared to the rest of the facility, is hugely uncomfortable. It is the same process as above. In turn, Dr. Jones will brief you on the current state of this world. She will only share relevant and confirmed information. After you're done, you are free to also share these experiences with the new 'volunteers. ' ▐ EXPLORING YOUR SURROUNDINGS ▐ The obligatory wild card. Explore the facility. The rooms, the kitchens, the shower rooms. Head up to the roof and look upon the vast wasteland that has become of the world. Do whatever you want!

table code by optimisty

Comments

[nautonnier]

[ He doesn't seem put out at all, though it means he should slow his rate of production. Or eat some himself. That's as it should be, anyway, cooking can't really help him out of this situation, which is now also being directly addressed.

It might be funny under other circumstances, a grown man standing like an awkward ironing board that just flopped out of its wall-mount and somehow landed perfectly upright, a blank look on his face and a spatula held limply in one hand. His hesitation is only brief, at least. Like he's used to being asked, and has the timing more or less down. ]

Normal. For me. Normalish.

[ He thinks of ironically lobbing that back at her, and yourself? but again, it's too soon, it won't come off right (it might never come off right). ]

It's unlikely to happen again.

[ His eyes lift reluctantly from his cooking implements and the stove to meets hers, cautiously. This is important enough, apparently. ]

In case that's taken into account for missions.

[causalitys]

[Some people, even those who have been with her the full term of her being her, often find the quiet contemplation of hers unnerving. It's always a good test of strength, though, to see if anyone begins to shift uncomfortably. She doesn't make Iain endure it for long. She does not, in fact, even seem surprised by his willingness to participate. (Even if she is.)]

You were the first truly adverse reaction to the machine I have seen in a long time. It was not built for anything more than the confines of this reality, you understand. It is difficult to say what kind of side effects may occur, even in the coming days. [A short pause, this time for coffee.] But trial and error is how we got to where we are now. Current circumstances withstanding.

[And back to her cigarette, she offers, thoughtfully:] You came here without our usual procedures, which is in itself particularly unusual. We will try the serum first. Before the machine.

[nautonnier]

[ He might not enjoy her observation, but he isn't hostile to it, it's ... close to familiar, and there's something to be said for being seen. She is far more forthcoming than most of the people who have been significant presences in Iain's life. More forthcoming than she needs to be, it seems to him, which might not be true and might even be a deliberate tactic -- not necessarily for malevolent purposes, just. Pragmatism. Thoroughness.

There's likely no real value in holding back his own insight, wryly phrased: it's not him, it's me. Without some evaluation of his abilities, how will they best use him on missions?

Because, Iain (he dutifully tells himself in the voice of his rescuers), you are not something to be used. And before he decides he is, again, he should take into account all the things she's saying to him. The confines of this reality. Trial and error. Usual procedures. And: ]

Serum?

[causalitys]

To keep you -- well, you.

[Off come her glasses; the cigarette is put out at the bottom of her glass, and her hand comes to pinch at her brow. ] The term 'to splinter' is quite literal. Without the serum, it is difficult to adapt. To reform.

[A wry smile follows. There are some obviously not pleasant memories associated with the process; failures more than successes. Early days where people did not come back all in one piece, or arranged with all the pieces the wrong way. ] I have heard some of the men refer to it as 'bullshit time theory' and, as much as I am dedicated to my work -- it is hard to disagree.

[Frank honesty is sometimes best. Sometimes not. ] We will monitor the initial response to the serum, if you would like. And then move on from there.

[nautonnier]

[ The last sausage deposited on a plate, Iain turns down the stove as he listens to her explanation. Something about it, maybe echos of his time trying fruitlessly to pathfind the chair without ever having intended to, creates a loosening sensation in his head. A physical if completely nonsensical feeling of what she describes: strands, strings, stretched pieces of a human being, snapping thin between the dark unfinished places of the universe in a formation that could only be read with any coherence by something that has a part of itself outside of four dimensions, and so if any twining bit is out of place no one would really ever know ...

He blinks and lets the effects fade, fingers curling closed on the spatula handle right before he drops it. In an unchanged tone of voice: ]

Are interactions with other drugs a concern.

[causalitys]

It depends entirely on the drug.

[Which is to say, not many people have the luxury of drugs anymore. Not beyond the basics which she has been stocking up on steadily for years. It seems somewhat careless of her to have to admit this, but there haven't been opportunities to test it on medicated individuals since she moved here.

There is always a first for everything. ] And the level of reliance on it, I would imagine. I am not a physician, but I suppose by some fortuitous twist of fate, you are sharing a room with someone who almost meets that description. Correct?

[nautonnier]

[ For the first time in this conversation, and maybe the first time here, he smiles. Genuine amusement, something almost affectionate that somehow isn't directly related to or aimed at her, despite it being a direct response. The situation, maybe, some inner juxtaposition. And it gives him a socially acceptable moment to streamline his explanation. Perhaps he streamlines it too much, but what's the use in ruining the lady's coffee with the truth about his background? ]

Up until about a year ago, I was on a kind of... soldiering drug, I guess they'd call 'em.

[ He begins to gather up some of the food he was using to place back in the fridge, until such time as people come demanding to be fed. ]

I've been told it may never leave my system. But I'm willing to try the serum.

[ This information, as well as the implication the decision is up to her, is shared very simply, without much inflection. ]

[causalitys]

[The subtle lift of her brow, the very small uptick of her mouth, are both indications that her curiosity has been piqued. But she doesn't pry quite yet. There is a time and a place for such things, and even Jones is not cruel enough to do it to someone new in the middle of breakfast.

Instead she gives a curt nod, lifting her cup to take another sip. ] Perhaps we might take a blood sample and test that first.

[Practical and more careful than she has been, perhaps, in a while. This entire mishap has prompted it entirely; she wouldn't be fooling anyone to claim otherwise.]

[nautonnier]

[ There's still a hint of that smile as he makes a casual, palm-up gesture with one hand before disappearing behind the open door of the fridge, putting things back where he found them. Cavalier nihilism, like he would have assented to be injected full of a mystery drug and put back in the chair regardless of her decision to be cautious, or of anything she did or didn't say this morning.

He would have. Or he would have fallen in with someone willing to do something similar. But if she's more or less the person she seems to be this morning, then he'll stick with her.

Should such decisions be left to brief conversations over breakfast? Are there other ways, other means of understanding people's motivations? Iain is unfortunately numb to them. ]

Is it costly, these days?

[ He finds it morbidly interesting, what they have and what they don't have. How the world is beyond him, yet has also fallen apart. ]

[causalitys]

Mr. Osterby, [at this she slides her glasses back onto her face, pulling away from the counter. A somewhat amused turn of her mouth, as though Iain has said something intentionally funny and not actually a little depressing, in the grand scheme of things. ] It is the end of the world. Free health care for all.

[A lift of her mug, as though in salute. ] More or less. [And, that's that, apparently. All she needs for now. More or less. ] Enjoy your breakfast.