i_speak_softly | Sixty-First Theory [Action]

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Sixty-First Theory [Action]

[People may have stopped scuba-diving and playing Whack-a-Mole around the fountain, but at least by some standards, it’s not entirely back to normal: now a giant turtle is sitting on the edge of it, staring intently at passersby.]

[Well, not just staring. Donatello is trying to establish psychic contact. He’s thinking a message as hard as he can at anyone who walks through the plaza, and while it isn’t exactly in words, the gist of it is: If you can hear this, help me.]

[Of course, to anyone who can’t hear it, he just looks like some kind of creeper. He’s sorry about that, really...]

((Death penalty reference.))

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[He notes the look and laughs.]

You've never met me. Trust me on that. You know, I think if I told you how I knew you it would fascinate you more than anything else...

[He debates it.]

It's just so absolutely amazing that you're real.

[- Wait a minute. Don sends images of an old pixellated video game featuring color-coded Foot ninjas. Would this perhaps be relevant?]

[Michael gasps as TURTLES IN TIME hits his mind's eye. He laughs.]

Oh, man. Best video game. Seriously. But that's not it, Don. In my world, you guys were a TV/Comic/Video Game sensation. Hell, there were movies of you, too! Even if you weren't real in my world... you were kind of like the brothers I never had growing up.

Sounds kinda silly doesn't it?

[Sigh. Why did you have to be one of those people?]

[Don tries to convey without words that these fictional versions are not very accurate.]

[Michael only laughs at his expression.]

I'm not a kid anymore, Don. I know you guys are the "made for kids" versions the money-grubbers tried to make you. I read the comics, too. It's neither here nor there. You're real. Your life is what it is. It won't ever be the same as a fictional element tries to make it for its fans.

I'd imagine if someone made a comic out of my life they would leave things out, too.

[He looks down at the ground.]

I'm just trying to say that while I know the basics, I don't know the real you, only what helped me when I was a little kid without brothers of my own. These days I'd be more than willing to get to know the real you. In fact, I'd be honoured.

[An interestingly enlightened attitude. But first, a point of clarification.]

[Don sends some images of nonspecific girls. Do you have sisters?]

Only child, Don. Absolutely only.

[He gives him a smile again though it's slightly more muted.]

Heck, she wasn't even meant to have me. Doctor's told her so.

[Concerned face. Care to tell your story?]

[He notes the look.]

Hey, this isn't about me. You're the one trapped in your head, man. I'm here for you, not vice versa. I'll be okay.

[That's very generous, but Don finds that despite his desperation he's still hesitant to spill his problems to a stranger. He's looking for a friend, not a therapist.]

[Perhaps you have a hobby they could discuss? Don conveys the idea with images of sports, vehicles, and artistic endeavors.]

[Michael sighs. He's still not used to interacting that much considering after a month, he's sucked back into the Land of the Dead and everyone he's talked to forgets him. Stranger is all he can be. Still, he picks up on Don's images.]

Fishing and anything to do with water is my favorite thing. Like tubing or water-skiing. I sing sometimes, too, but, heh... it need to get cleaned up for it and I'm more of a camping kind of guy. I don't even have a place in the village. Campsite works for me.

[Don recoils a little at the mention of water-related activities, then looks ashamed of himself. He tries to cover for it by taking an interest in the idea of camping.]

[Michael is not a spring chicken. He blinks.]

...you don't like water, do you?

[Completely embarrassed. Can you just go back to talking about your casual lifestyle?]

[Michael shakes his head. It can wait. He won't pry further.]

Er---so---camping. I camp. Pretty much all the time. Where I'm from there... isn't any nature. Or light. It's pretty much perpetual night in a city that spans the entire world with ten times the current human population. It's loud. Filthy. Horrible. And so, so dark.

Here? It's light. There's nature everywhere. I know there are horrors and awful things to worry about but... I just...

[He looks up at the sky.]

In a place like this I can't help... I can't help but just see so much light.

[Don looks up too. He knows how you feel, and even after two and a half years he tries not to take the light for granted.]

Heh. Sorry, I---I sometimes get all poetic about stuff like this.

[He's actually rubbing at his eyes a little.]

It just means a lot more to me than to most of the people I know. So many people take nature, animals, water... hell, even bug bites... I mean, they think it'll always be there.

For me it's not. For me, this place is, even if temporary, a gift. I don't care what happens to me here so long as I can talk to people who remember my name the next time I see them.

[He sighs.] I might as well tell you since you want a distraction from this whole psychic thing, Donatello.

I died back home. Cracked my head on a tombstone during a fight with a bunch of gorillas. Ended up making a deal with a demi-god in order to live but the deal was that I fought for her in the Land of the Dead. Sounds whacked, I know... but it's the truth. She muted my heartbeat so I might as well have no pulse.

In the Land of the Dead I battle against Ghosts and Echoes as a Night Arrow. Hell, the outfit looks like something out of a comic book I'll tell you that right now but since I got here, my link with Lil'l, the demi-god who saved my life, has been severed. Any kind of ability she had to converse with me is gone, even if the link is still open. That's why I heard you.

[He looks at Donatello.]

The deal back home is that I get a month off every five years and during that month I get to go back to the light in the Land of the Living. Unfortunately, no one knows who I am and no one is to remember. After that month is up, I go back to the Land of the Dead and anyone I met won't remember having seen me at all. Every five years it repeats.

I can't tell you how... how amazing it is to be able to meet people here and talk to them day in, day out... and for them to say something as simple as, "Hey, Michael!" To know they remember me... It's pretty damned wonderful is all I can say.

[Don listens with rapt attention. While the details are different, the themes have a lot in common with his own life. He knows the pleasure of being greeted with "Hi, Don" instead of with screaming.]

[... How would you feel about a surrogate brother?]

[He would like that a lot, Don. You have no idea at all.]

You know... it's bad, but, the worst thing about this place to me right now is that apparently we won't remember it if and when we go back...

Because that doesn't make it much different than the vacation period during work for me.

[Stop getting so emotional, Michael. It's not going to help.]

It's dumb. I know. There are people here suffering and dying and coming back to life and all I can think is... just... even so, I prefer it... I prefer it to what my destiny is if I go back.

[Don puts a consoling hand on Michael's shoulder. He too has something unpleasant waiting for him when he goes back, and while he misses his home and his family, he's in no great hurry to leave Luceti.]

Look at me pouring my soul out to you. You've been through a lot, too, I'd imagine. I won't pry, but I will tell you if you're going to help me like this then I'll do the same for you if you ever need it. I mean that.

[He gives him a bit of a smile though there is sadness in it.]

[As delicately as possible, Don sends images conveying that he did die, and that this is the reason for his speech deficit and all the resulting problems.]

[He'll pause there, sticking to just the facts for now.]

[Michael flinches away from him, not understanding what he's trying to show.]

J-Jesus, what---hang on. Sorry. Try that again. That was a little off in my head.

[Don hesitates, then tries again, sending carefully cliche images representing death: gravestones, angels, and what he thinks a human funeral looks like. It's accompanied by an overarching sense that something like this happened to him.]

[Michael has this thing about death... but he very quickly understands what Donatello is trying to convey.]

...you died?

Sixty-First Theory [Action]

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