i_speak_softly | Fifty-First Theory [Written/Voice/Action]

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Fifty-First Theory [Written/Voice/Action]

[This morning, instead of going for his usual run, Don settles himself at his desk in the back room. The door is open and a pencil is poked thoughtfully between his teeth. When he begins to write, it isn't filtered, but courtesy of a translation-shield, anyone trying to read the entry will see something that looks more like a Danish cryptogram than anything intelligible. It's a code Don uses for his private notes: only his brothers or an extraordinarily gifted linguist would have a hope of being able to figure it out.]

BGTVULWG - Wvlz hltwqszu bluul kgf bj svg hblfl. Bj ilkqtblf bqs q lu zu lb pvwblu WJDLUQ, gs bj zpflh bqzzal tgulf bqs zlwh, lkulf vu bj nvhbl iglu nl f q lu vg gs lt vwh.

[A little later in the morning, Don leaves the following message.]

Filtered to everyone he can think of that he would consider a friend || Unhackable

All my friends here in Luceti... would you say a few words about yourself? For my notes.

[Much later, in the evening, Don goes out for his run. Now that Shredder is gone, he's allowed to go out after dark again. He knows he doesn't have long before the nights get too cold for this, so he's going to enjoy it while he can.]

((OOC: On Ami's suggestion, Don is working on the in-game equivalent of a timeline and a CR chart.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[As a response the scientist sidles up to Don's side and stops there obediently.]

I presume this does not necessarily have a destination...

No. [Nevertheless, he puts an arm around Robert's shoulders and steers him in the general direction of the riverbank. After a few dozen yards he speaks again.] Have I told you I admire your non-ability?

... I cannot say you ever have, before. [Robert leans into that broad, familiar plastron as they walk together, but his mind is lost trying to discern the meaning of that statement.] Why would you ever admire that?

Because... [He waves his free hand vaguely.] Because you're able to not be able. [He touches his palm to Robert's chest briefly, as though he can somehow push understanding into him.] Do you know what I mean?

[... Sadly, this reasoning is entirely lost on Robert.]

... not exactly.

[The look of confusion on his expression might almost be comical.]

[Nope. Don misses the look as he tries to sort out his own thoughts.]

I'm - I'm jealous. Of your world. That you could spend your time doing something other than learning how to fight.

[Robert bites his lip at that. He can hardly fathom what it must have been like, growing up in a world where he had to learn to fight - it's just so terrifyingly unlike what he knows.]

... If... if I could have, I would have made sure you would have never had to...

... or, or at least would not have such a dire need to learn,that would exclude anything else you wished to do...

[Robert, you're missing the point. But Don won't press: if you knew how unique you were, you would have lost part of what made you special.]

What did you do, growing up?

[Robert smiles a little to himself, in an awkward sort of way.] ... I... spent much of my time indoors, to be frank. Researching, reading texts, playing holovideos and immersive video games, using the Internet in general...

[... He was quite the little shut-in. Hell, Don probably sees similar behaviour in him now, when he isn't coaxing Robert to go outside.]

Sometimes we did go to the Institutes, though - my parents and I, that is. They were... fond of taking me. [Probably because it was easier than trying to keep up with him themselves.]

[That sounds wonderful, but --] Why didn't you go outside?

[Having been denied outside for much of his life, Don has a hard time imagining why anyone would willingly forego it.]

[... There's a long moment before Robert answers that.]

... It meant I... had to deal with other people.

[... Face-to-face, at least.

This might be a strange sentiment to hear from a human, but it does seem to genuinely bother Robert... at least a little.]

[Don recognizes there's more that needs to be said on this subject. They've reached the riverbank, and he uncurls his arm from Robert's shoulders, tugging lightly on the scientist's sleeve as he sits down in the grass.]

What is it like for you?

[He had tried to guess, all those months ago, when he described it to his brothers, but he's wondering now how accurate he was.]

[Obediently Robert sits down next to Don, bringing his shoulders in reflexively as he drops his gaze contemplatively to the river's surface.

This isn't something that is easy to describe or put into words. Language fails him in these circumstances.]

... There was... a constant perception of... of being judged, negatively, by others. Whether they were or not. I c-could not... understand what people might be trying to convey, much of the time, and... and that made me even more ill-at-ease... Additionally, my v-verbal tics exacerbated things, and...

... [He falters, awkwardly.] I am... sorry. It is not... a concept that translates effectively.

[Don is silent, sifting through this information, trying to find a starting point to ask intelligent questions from.]

What do you mean, that you couldn't understand people?

[He keeps grabbing his own fingers and twisting them gently; it's a reflex. It occupies his mind while he tries to sort out his feelings.]

... Social cues, primarily. I... I w-was not good at perceiving them.

... Still am not. Th-though... [Softly:] I... I think I might be learning some of yours'.

[If Robert has been seeming to notice things over time that he didn't before, Don, that might be why.]

But because of that, there is... an e-entire part of some conversations that is not... visible to me. Wh-when I was neurotypical, I perceived these parts, b-but... ... I cannot, anymore. [He remembers, sometimes, fleetingly, how it worked. But he can't do it again, not nearly so easily.]

... As a result it... m-makes it difficult to determine what people r-really... mean. Whether they are... being honest... Like with Mr. Saki.

[Don watches Robert fidget, and wonders whether the scientist knows he's doing it, whether he knows what Don is understanding from it.]

[Maybe a concrete example will help.]

What do you see, when Leo and I have conversations without talking to each other?

...

I do not think I would notice, unless... unless I watched, and perhaps not even then.

[Ninjas are trained to be inscrutable. Leo's feelings can be inscrutable to even the most perceptive of people. Don himself is often such.

Where does that leave poor Robert? Thoroughly in the dark, most of the time. Often, he doesn't even realize.]

... from occasions where I have been in e-either of your presences... [He fidgets, trying to recall from living together with both of them for quite some time now.] ... I know something is being communicated, but... b-but it is like it is encoded in a format I can only barely begin to d-decipher...

[Now Don feels bad. He and Leo don't mean to exclude anyone when they have entire conversations via facial expression, they're just communicating with each other in the simplest way. It hadn't occurred to him that what's simple for them is completely inscrutable to his partner.]

Is there anything I can do to help?

[If it helps, Robert isn't upset by this. It's one of those parts of his life that he has sort of accepted, and though he is trying to learn the cues of those around him - especially the ones he loves - it takes time and mental effort and concentration. It will never come to him naturally in quite the same way it did for those brief few days.]

W-Well... I suppose putting things into w-words I can understand usually would be... an assistance.

... Bluntness would... also help.

[Don slumps. He's explained to Robert before why he hates being blunt, and he does not at all like his apparent choices: insulting his partner's intelligence or leaving him completely in the dark.]

Isn't there anything else?

[He knows, which is why he was so hesitant to say that... although he still doesn't quite understand how it would be offensive. It is literally something he doesn't understand - as much as that makes him feel mildly bad - and... well, how would it be offensive to explain something he doesn't understand?

... still.]

... I am uncertain. Other than me... l-learning the cues... which is, well, d-difficult.

...

I have to... to d-do so consciously. I have to... think about it. A-Analyze situations. [It has to run in the back of his mind, like a scanner working in the background, and that gets mentally exhausting sometimes.]

[It's obvious to Don that Robert doesn't have to think hard about everything - he's brilliant, after all. If Don is going to be pre-emptively blunt, he at least wants to establish ground rules regarding what Robert wants help with.]

What kinds of things do you want me to be blunt about?

... Emotions. If... if you can. Things you f-feel.

I... I know that can be... difficult. [Robert has trouble with it too.]

I - I feel -- [What can he call this?] If I were you, I would be lonely and afraid. So I'm - sad, that it's like that for you. I mean, if it is like that. [He looks up, and asks, in a small voice:] Is it?

[Robert keeps his gaze down, staring at the middle distance, but he nods almost imperceptibly.]

... Lonely and afraid, y-yes.

...

Lonely, knowing that... that there is a space, between myself and others, that can be bridged but... n-never entirely removed.

And a-afraid, because... because it is so e-easy to lie to someone like me. [Saki was a terrifying reminder, but even so, he knows that he could look at someone, and that person could smile, and say nice things, and be generally pleasant, and he'd never be able to tell what that person really felt.]

... s-sometimes I am not even certain about what you feel, and then... then I f-feel as if I may have perceived you incorrectly, or... or n-not at all, and... [... then I feel like a failure.]

Fifty-First Theory [Written/Voice/Action]

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