Sixtieth Theory [Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[Luceti is a cruel and perverted world. That's the only possible explanation for why Don revives from his death-by-drowning at the bottom of the lake. He thrashes for the surface with none of his usual graceful movement, and crawls ashore, panting and trying to figure out what happened.

He knows he died.

He remembers there is a price for being restored to the living world.

He lies in the rain, wondering if it will ever end.

When he has enough breath back to sit up, he does so, and carefully checks himself over for what the Malnosso took. Limbs, senses, memories… all seem in order. He stands and walks, and his legs work. He speaks a few words, and his voice is still there.

It doesn't seem possible that the Malnosso brought him back for free, and he's scared for what hidden deficit might reveal itself later.

He has his mask, belt, and pads. All his other gear is absent, hopefully still at home where he left it.

He starts walking.

He knows it will take some time to travel from the western lake to the village, but he knows the way and he's not in a hurry. It will be good to get his thoughts together before he sees his housemates.]


((Don's death penalty is a language disorder called aphasia. Reference post is here, and linked from the index post at the top of his journal. Meet him anywhere on his way back to House 55.

Plotting note: In the near future, Don will want to go to the clinic to find out what's wrong with him. If your character works there, and especially if they would recognize aphasia, please hit me up via PM.))

Comments

[i_speak_softly]

[Don is shoveling food into his mouth, but his eyes are on the math problem.]

[Until Robert looks at him.]

[Slowly:]

April says I'm... footwork.

[semper_cogitans]

[Again, with the surface-nonsensical sentence. This time, Robert pushes away the immediate reaction of frustration and incomprehension. He needs to get to the bottom of this.]

Wh-Who is "April"...?

[Should he know this person?]

[i_speak_softly]

[Casts around. Where is a journal when you actually need one?]

[semper_cogitans]

[Would Robert pulling the piece of paper over help? Though he has his journal nearby - Don could probably gesture at it.

Though good luck getting Robert to realize what he means at first.]

[i_speak_softly]

No, that one.

[He juggles his food to make a beckoning gesture at the journal.]

[semper_cogitans]

[... Oh, okay. That's simple enough!

Robert gets up, goes over to his largely-neglected journal, and places it on the desk in front of Don before sitting down.

... This has to be frustrating for both of them.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don flips through rapidly until he finds the index of Luceti residents, then scans the pictures until he sees Buffy.]

Her.

[semper_cogitans]

... Ms. Summers? [Is "April" a nickname of hers'?]

And, er, why did she... say you were... "footwork"...?

[His question is tentative and awkward - he's not sure what this word is supposed to mean.]

[i_speak_softly]

[His shoulders slump. How is he supposed to explain that?]

[semper_cogitans]

[Oh, Don.

When Robert doesn't get an answer, his expression softens a little, and he reaches out to take Don's hand.]

... M-May I ask you... something else, then?

Could you... finish this mathematical problem for me...? [He presents the paper to Don, with an obvious air of nervous hope.]

I... want to see... [... it's terrible, but he doesn't know a nicer way to say it...] ... whether your intellect is i-intact.

[i_speak_softly]

[A range of reactions to this: Sadness. A nod. He reaches for the paper... and looks at Robert with disbelief.]

[After a moment he passes his plastic bowl to Robert so he can take the pencil. He re-reads the problem, then quickly fills in the missing numbers. He's apprehensive as he hands it back - he thinks it's right, but what if it isn't?]

[semper_cogitans]

[That look of disbelief baffles Robert. What did he say wrong, exactly? Besides the obvious, but he doesn't really know just how awful a statement that was.

But still, Don's done the problem - and incredibly rapidly, at that. There was no hesitation, and compared to writing the word "July" he didn't even blink.]

... It is correct.

...

[Slowly, trying to make sense of this -] You cannot spell a s-simple word, and yet... you can do complex math in seconds...

...

This is... o-obviously some sort of brain disorder, but... it is much different from my initial impression...

[i_speak_softly]

[Don scoops up his food and curls back into the corner of the couch as he listens to this diagnosis. "Brain disorder" was not the effect he wanted to come back with, but at least it seems to be limited to specific functions.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Just how specific is a matter of concern, though.]

... You... you understand what I say, c-correct...? It is just... communicating? Or... or am I difficult to... u-understand, as well...?

And there are no... motor difficulties...?

[i_speak_softly]

[Don isn't sure how to answer this. If it weren't for his knowledge that he died and must now have some sort of deficit, he would think that everyone else had a comprehension problem. From his own perspective, he doesn't know whether he's saying something other than what he means, or misunderstanding other people, so that his replies seem like non sequiturs to them.]

[He shakes his head at the second part, though.]

[semper_cogitans]

[That's a problem, then. If Don can't verify whether he can understand... and his responses make it difficult to determine objectively whether he has... then how to test this in a way that they can determine?]

... A proper behavioural a-analysist would be... helpful, for this.

[Or even a proper brain scan, though who knows if it's a visible defect...

Almost to himself, Robert murmurs downward.]

I wish I knew what this was...

[i_speak_softly]

[Don thinks a moment, then offers:]

You, order me, and I do.

[semper_cogitans]

[Processing...

After a few thoughtful moments of analyzing the sentence, a tentative -]

You... w-wish for me to... ask you to do something...?

[i_speak_softly]

[Emphatic nod. If he can carry out some commands, his understanding must be okay.]

[semper_cogitans]

[That makes some sense. Interpreting a command does require understanding of what the command means to be done effectively.

Robert infers, judging on Don's prior behaviours and reactions, that repeating words or writing them isn't likely to be effective. So chances are, the most useful things to tell him to do are physical.]

... P-Please retrieve my... sword, for me. [Somehow, this seems significant enough that Don should get to see it now - even if any obvious signs of its use have long since been cleaned, it has a psychological impact and is in an odd enough location to be something he wouldn't see without looking.] It is... in my room, in the dresser at the s-southeast corner of the room, in the third compartment...

... It is in its protective cover, so... do not w-worry. I would not store such an implement... u-unprotected.

[i_speak_softly]

[Don listens carefully, then gets up and walks away. In a few moments he returns and presents Robert with his sword.]

[semper_cogitans]

[... Well, that worked. Despite everything, Robert gives Don a smile.]

... Thank you.

[Almost nervously:] ... Should I give you another command...?

[i_speak_softly]

[Nod. One trial does not an experiment make.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Hmm... Well, he can follow directions flawlessly so far, but more in-depth responses might be required. Hmmm.]

Perhaps we could... work together to make a p-proper meal for you? I presume you have... not e-eaten since your return...

[Truth be told, Robert hasn't much either.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Shakes his head.]

I'm tired...