i_speak_softly | Twenty-fifth Theory [Action]

[April has decided that baseball is definitely not her sport. She's heading back to House 55 for a shower when she spots Don with the garbage cans.]

Hey, Donny!

Hey, April.

[He'll slow down, resting the cans upright. They're pretty heavy.]

How's the game going?

Baseball is probably never going to be my thing, Donatello. And I'm okay with that.

Project? Or are you just being super tough on litter today?

[That's okay, April. You have plenty of other 'things'. Don will just nod and quirk a smile.]

Parts I've collected. Hadn't had a chance to bring them over from the apartment yet.

Oh, yeah? [Part of April instantly relaxes--a part that's been wound tight since he admitted he had given up on changing his current situation. Maybe this is Don getting back to nice, nerdy normal.]

Planning anything special with them? [Because you are a Junk Alchemist, Donatello.]

[He sighs.] I don't know. I haven't had much luck building anything, here.

Did you know, when I first got here there wasn't even electricity?

Well...at least you didn't have to reinvent the wheel. Literally. [Dumb joke. They come out when she's nervous, sometimes. That strange apathy is upsetting. Very upsetting.]

What have you tried making so far?

It was a close call.

[He'll resume hauling the garbage cans.] I made a lightning rod. It was a spectacular failure.

[April will join in, tugging at the handle on one can. They ARE heavy.]

Uh...isn't that just a rod that you stick on top of a building? What did you use to ground it?

[He'll humor your efforts, while secretly hoping you give up soon. They'll never get to the house at that rate.]

Lots of insulation. It was meant to be a barrier disruptor, but all it did was blow up in my face.

[Still tugging, gamely.]

This barrier--does it emit any kind of frequency? [Yes, she's read about it, and she's heard a little bit about what happened during the earthquake, but there's so much more about the barrier that she wants to know. She hasn't been jaded by experience yet.]

[He admires your spirit, but thinks you need to learn when to admit defeat.]

Not that I know of.

There's ways we can test that. We could start by building a simple antenna and receiver. What do we have to work with? [Casting a curious eye at the barrels.]

[... Well, there couldn't be any harm in just waving an antenna at the barrier.]

[He gestures to the cans.] Help yourself.

Here? Now? Don't I even get my own lab?

April, I don't even have my own lab right now. We weren't expecting to outgrow our new house so quickly.

Maybe we need to work on that first. Otherwise I shudder to think at the state the kitchen table is going to be in.

We'll - figure something out.

Hey--that's what we do, right? And...this can is heavy.

[He'll wordlessly take over the second can. Sometimes those long boring hours of weight-lifting do pay off.]

I wonder if we could keep the apartment, and just use it as a workspace. There aren't so many people here that it should be a problem. I mean, as long as everyone doesn't start doing it.

Yeah, or...I've heard there are labs around. [She trudges along next to him, shooting him a sidelong glance.]

There's the smithy. It's pretty crowded, though. And noisy.

Hidden labs? [She prompts, flushing slightly.]

I wouldn't know. I haven't found them.

We can make our own place. [She speaks in a rush, brushing hair out of her eyes.]

[Wow, April, you almost sound as though you're proposing cohabitation. ... Cohabitation without other friends and family members, that is.]

A secret hideout, April? Aren't we a little old for that?

Secret? Well, we've got nothing to hide, right? I just meant, you know--space.

[Space. Space is too much like home, would mean he was giving up and settling into this place. Still, it would be nice to not have to work out of a closet.]

I don't know. It isn't like I get much work done here anyway.

[She reaches out for his arm, but instead takes hold of the side of the can to help pull it along again.]

Yeah. Well, you will now.

Listen, April - [He stops, and the loss of the can's momentum will force April to stop too.] This place has been really interesting to visit, but I don't want to live here. I'm trying not to get too comfortable.

Not sure how that translates into slacking off on the work, Don.

[She frowns and crosses her arms.]

I can't bring anything home and I won't remember anything I learned. There are better uses for my time. [And he resumes dragging the cans.]

Like WHAT, exactly? [Well, the wind's out of her sails.]

You're so different here.

[Stopping, again. Because he can't say this without gesturing and he needs to free his hands.]

We don't need security systems because no one is trying to kill us. It's impossible to build an engine for any kind of vehicle. The plumbing fixes itself and when we run out of food we just walk to the store and take more. What am I supposed to do here, April?

Maybe I should just start breaking things for you.

We'll think of something. I already told Casey I want to investigate the barrier.

Like I said. Things fix themselves.

I'd go with you, but I'm not allowed.

[What she perceives as his defeatist attitude is putting her in a bad mood, scratching the edge of that Irish temper.]

Hmph. I've never seen your helpless side before, Donatello.

Not so much helpless as extraneous.

It hits everyone here, April. People go a little stir-crazy.

Well, all that aside, who isn't allowing you to go to the barrier?

Raph, of course. Who else would tell me where I can't go?

I won't tell if you don't.

Thanks, but I think he would notice.

Well, something tells me he's not going to mind you going out there.

[... Maybe you haven't heard how the last attempt ended.]

April, last time he had to carry me back. ... It's thirty miles.

[April dismisses this.]

Maybe we're just going to have a fun 30-mile hike then. And Raphael would probably not want me to do that alone, you know? [Along with Casey Jones.]

I can't right now, April. I'm sort of on probation as it is.

[Hmph.] It's okay, I'll find someone else. I have to build the equipment first anyway.

[This is sounding all too familiar.] If I can't persuade you otherwise, then - at least don't tell me about it. I won't be able to control myself.

You got it! Promise not to tell you.

[Good. He won't say anything else as he drags the cans into the house.]

[Giles has spoken with the turtles before, so the sight of Donatello passing by doesn't surprise him too much. The sight of the forty gallon garbage cans does get his attention, however]

Do you need some help?

["Help" is a touchy subject right now, and Giles should know exactly why. But in this case...]

I wouldn't mind some extra hands.

[He tries, and manages to move one without much difficulty.]

You're...Donatello, yes?

[Color Donatello impressed. You know your way around a library and you can drag heavy things.]

Only Donatello, now.

Really?

The matter was resolved, then? [Lead the way, Don]

Mm. It - wasn't what I thought it was. [Follow this way!]

[Giles follows, dragging the garbage can along] Such things never are, I'm afraid.

Are you all right?

[He glances over his shoulder.] Really?

I think I will be eventually.

That's good.

[Then, elaborating a bit more] Even when the foreign consciousness is benevolent - as Tchaikovsky may have been - the average mind isn't meant to cope with two separate entities at once. Not without damage.

[He drags his can in silence for a while.]

Turns out he wasn't a separate entity.

What do you mean?

How's your non-supernatural psychology?

[Giles has to think about that one] I've studied some, but it's not knowledge I use very often.

In simplest terms, then - I couldn't deal with the overflow of memories, so I created a second persona to take the extras. Only I didn't know I had done it.

Was this when everyone thought they were someone else?

As a result of that.

Wasn't here for it. But it does make sense, I suppose. Creation of alternate selves to deal with things that can't be dealt with alone is a well documented occurrence. As well documented as possession, in fact.

You mentioned. [Not responding to the rest. It really doesn't make him feel better.]

Yes, I do repeat myself a lot. Unfortunate habit.

[Then, Giles tries to change the subject] So. What are these for?

[Subject change is very welcome.] Don't know yet. Collecting parts is one of my habits.

For anything specific or just for the hell of it?

Sometimes for a particular project. Other times just with the conviction that it will eventually come in handy.

Probably a good conviction. Better to have it and not need it than the alternative. What sort of projects?

That's what I tell my brothers every time I bring home something they think I'll never use.

I invent things.

[A giant turtle who invents things? You are officially fascinating, Don]

Go on. What sort of things?

Vehicles. Security systems. [He sighs heavily.] I haven't built a single thing that works since I got here.

[Giles glances in at the assortment of stuff in the garbage can he's dragging] Can't imagine why. You don't seem to suffer from lack of parts.

I do, actually. Seven months, and I have not seen a single fuel injector. Or computer chip. I'm beginning to suspect the Malnosso have a junk-filtration system.

I have heard that they're generally reluctant to allow anything useful to cross over.

Tell me about it. Strange that they have no problem blocking out useful books, but they can't seem to control who shows up here.

[Wait a second] Where have you found useful books?

There are some useful books in the library, but there's a conspicuous absence of anything specific to this world. It makes me wonder whether someone wrote something - something more than the Guide - and the Malnosso made it disappear.

Ah. Yes, I had noticed that. I was actually warned about that. You're probably right, to be honest. With just the one library, censorship certainly wouldn't be too much trouble for the Organization.

Censorship is one thing they are good at. They monitor the journals, too. Even locked entries.

And then, of course, there's these. [He taps the barcode on the back of his neck.] I wouldn't be surprised if they keep track of where we go. Who we talk to.

[Giles tries not to shudder. The wings he's learned to live with, but the bar codes give hm the creeps]

I'd accuse you of paranoia, but it's only being paranoid if you're wrong.

Being paranoid is another one of my habits. Or not, since I'm usually right.

Mine, as well. You never know when something simple might actually turn out to be the end of the world.

... It's not really the end of the world I worry about. Most days I just try not to get killed.

That time, I was actually speaking metaphorically. [More or less]

What do you do that involves not getting killed?

[Still, you do seem to use the phrase "end of the world" a lot.]

[Don quirks a smile.] I invent things.

[A moment later -] And I'm a ninja.

[Force of habit, Don, don't mind him. He's way more interested in you]

A ninja?

[Then, taking another look at Don] A ninja...turtle?

[Knowledgeable about herpetology, too. You're gaining points, Giles.]

Yes, though being a turtle is why so many people are trying to kill me in the first place.

Ninja turtles aren't common where you're from, then?

Well, to my knowledge, all the mutant turtles in my world are ninjas... so I guess in that sense they are common.

Just ninjas?

[Then, because Don's reply was a bit specific, Giles adds] Let me rephrase that. Are mutant turtles common in your world?

[Don laughs. Maybe he should answer the question the way a normal person would.]

No, not common. There's only four of us.

Ah, I see. [Giles takes this news well enough in stride] So, I know you, Raphael...are the other two here, as well?

[Don slumps visibly.] No. They were, but they've been sent back.

[Giles looks guilty] I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.

It's all right.

This way. [He indicates that they should turn here.]

[Giles turns where indicated. It's getting a bit hard to move the trash cans now, and so he can't quite stop himself from asking]

Are we almost there?

Yes, it's right at the end. [Sideways glance.] I'll take that, if you want.

No, no. I'm fine. [He started this trip with the garbage can, and Giles is damn well going to finish it with the garbage can]

I appreciate it.

Right here. [He veers again, and drags his own can up to the front of the house.]

[Success! Giles drags his can beside Don's and sighs with relief] There we are.

Is this where you live?

For now. [He opens the door.] Coming in?

Oh. Um...a-all right.

Raph is here, but everyone else is still at the baseball game. [Just in case you're interested in an up-to-the-minute census of house inhabitants.]

[Don drags the can right in and heads down the back hallway.]

[Giles follows, dragging his can along] Baseball game?

There's a baseball game going on behind the barracks. [He abandons the can in the middle of a bedroom.] Your version of Earth has baseball, doesn't it?

Oh, yes. Just not something I ever really paid attention to.

Me neither. But our friend is a big fan. I think he's organizing a hockey game too, for the winter.

Nice that he's keeping busy. I'm sure people appreciate it.

There was a good turnout. [He moves the second can next to the first. There's another chore done.]

Yes. One thing my friends from home haven't really told me is what people do here, normally.

Normally? [He looks at the bizarre collection of stuff in the garbage cans.] Just try to stay occupied, I guess.

[Frederic had been taking a walk when he spies Donatello near the up-ended garbage cans and the contents scattered all over the place. All the while, noticing the bizarre contraption coming together.]

Donatello?

[Don is instantly distracted.]

Frederic! You're back! [And you know his name, so...] You remember being here.

[Frederic smiles gently and nods a bit.]

Yes, it seems the Malnosso or whoever is in charges of the powers that be has allowed me to keep my memories of the village. I'm rather thankful for that indeed. How have you been since I left?

[His expression turns sad.] It's been a long summer, Frederic. Two of my brothers aren't here anymore. And - a lot of other things happened.

[He turns back to his work.] Polka's gone too. [As you probably know.]

[Frederic's own expression becomes not so much sad, but indifferent when he hears about Polka.]

I figured Polka and Viola weren't here anymore, I couldn't find them no matter where I looked. But there's no use crying over it, they're safe back in their world and I'm happy for them.

That's what everyone says. [And since you're the first person he's met twice -] Is it true, Frederic? When you go back, it's like you were never here?

I do not know if it the same for everyone, but I suppose I can tell my story. [He clears his throat and begins.] When I returned, my life went back to the way it was and I had forgotten all of Luceti. Yet as my days went on, something deep down in my heart kept tugging at me as if it wanted me to remember. However, I ignore that feeling because I thought it wasn't that important even if the tugging kept continuing. When I at last returned to Luceti, all of my memories returned as if they were forgotten dreams or memories that had been buried deep down within me. I also realized that tugging at my heart was my memories of Luceti trying to resurface even back in my world and I wish I hadn't ignored it.

[He listens carefully.] So you just had - repressed memories? But no time had passed, and nothing that happened here had an effect in your world?

That's exactly correct, yet as I said, I do not know if it the same for everyone else here. Perhaps I was simply one of the lucky ones.

[True. One sample is not an experiment. But -] What about your friends? Or did you go back to a time when they hadn't been here yet?

[He turns away and looks sorrowful.] I went back to the time where I thought they were all dead, where I thought the dream world was destroyed forever.

Oh. I - I'm sorry.

[Turning his back away from Donatello, Frederic seems to be trying to hide his sorrow.] I told you before, didn't I? It's no use crying over those we've lost. Besides, I'm glad to know Polka and Viola are back where they belong. They both deserve all the happiness in the world, especially Polka.

I don't think I understood you, then. [He turns back to his contraption, fits another part onto it.] I do now.

[He sighs a little.] I don't mean to sound as if I'm cold, Donatello. But loss is something I'm use to, especially for someone of my age. I've come to realize that no matter how much someone cries or feels sorry for something, that something or someone will never return. [He turns back to look at Donatello, if briefly for a moment.] I'm truly sorry I'm not the hero or great man you've admired all your life, I'm simply a weak human being.

[Everything in him rebels at the word loss, at the idea that someone he loves could be permanently stolen from him.]

You're not the only one who's told me this, Frederic. It's just something that's taking me a long time to learn. [He looks up from his work.] And anyone who has learned it isn't weak.

[He ponders for a moment, but then realizes he has to tell his story to another friend. He couldn't hide what happened to people close to him anymore.]

I lost my sister Emilia when she was very young, at the age of 14 to be exact. After that my love life became one of complete shambles and then I developed tuberculosis. All of these events have devastated me to my core, especially with my sister. I thought I'd never be happy and through my tuberculosis, I could finally be rid of all the pain. [He slowly sits beside Donatello.] But as time has gone on, I've come to realize that dying and trying so hard to end my suffering isn't what I should be doing. Instead, I should be focusing on helping the living instead of continuing to mourn for the dead or trying to even die myself.

[Don listens respectfully, even though the story is strange to hear. In his world, these things - and Chopin's eventual death - happened over a hundred years ago. They're not news to him.]

Maybe this isn't much of a consolation, but... I don't think happy people can create the way you and I do. Your music is a gift to the world, Frederic. If you had to suffer to create it... at least know that it's brought joy to many people.

[As his own inventions probably never will. Still, he'll pick up a random part from the ground and offer it to you. Add it to the contraption?]

[Frederic smiles a little, a sad smile, but a smile nevertheless. He takes the random part and then looks at a random place it could go to place it there.]

It truly brings my heart such joy to know how much of a gift my music has been to the world. I thought I'd be forgotten as time went on, now I see that isn't the case. Thank you Donatello, for being a dear friend and also someone I can trust.

[He picks up another random part for the contraption and hands it to Donatello, seeing as how the invention is Don's after all.]

Not at all. Your music is listened to in ways you can't even imagine.

[Don takes the part and considers it. Then he takes a screw from an open box of like parts, pulls a screwdriver from his belt, and secures the new piece to an arm of the contraption.]

[Frederic watches him work on the contraption and seems completely fascinated by what he's doing.]

This contraption you're building seems quite interesting, what exactly is it? I'd like to continue helping, but I'm not entirely sure how I can.

I don't know what it is. Sometimes, when I need to think, I just start putting things together. [He smiles and offers you another piece.] Usually no one is interested in joining me.

[Looking at the piece in his hand, he begins to ponder where exactly to put it.]

I'm not exactly all that wise in the terms of inventions or machines, I don't know how much of help I can be. [He continues staring at the piece.] I'm not even certain where I should put this.

People who don't know what they're doing are exactly the people I most want to do this with. An expert would put that piece in the same place I would. I don't get any new ideas from that.

Is that so? Well hmmm... [He places the part on a place where he sees it would work.] Does that seem all right to you?

[Don smiles encouragingly. Fit it on there, Frederic.]

[Frederic fits the part in and looks at the rest of the parts. He's scratching his head in some confusion, trying to figure out what to use next.]

[Don takes a seat on the ground and watches. Inventions are like visible music, and he wants to see what you'll compose.]

[Unfortunately Frederic is too much of a perfectionist and starts looking a little irritated when he can't figure out what exactly he's trying to do with these parts. He just keeps looking them over and over, but nothing seems to be constructing in his mind.]

Edited 2010-09-12 03:37 (UTC)

[Don picks up a piece of rubber tubing and offers it to Frederic.] Use the water.

[Frederic looks at the rubber tubing and looks around for this water Donatello is telling him about.] Water?

[Don gets up, walks the few steps to the river, and snakes one end of the tube into it. The other end he drags up to the contraption, and weaves it around like a climbing vine, leaving the top sticking up above the invention/sculpture. Then he leans over and slurps from the tube like a giant straw, spitting out the water that ends up in his mouth. After he does that, the tube continues to spurt, sprinkling down over the various levels of the contraption. The result is something like a strange post-modern fountain.]

Water.

[Sometime later, after her trip with Giles and Terra to the ruins, Raine is just taking a short walk, even though her house is on the other side of the village. She had been meaning to speak to Donatello since her 'lesson' with Raphael, but the time for it never came up. For the moment, she just watches quietly as he works.]

Oh, Miss Sage. [Just one of the people he was thinking about.] I heard the school was opening again.

It's good to see you, Donatello. And yes, you heard correctly.

[He puts down his tools to give his full attention to the teacher.]

Will there be a lot of new students?

That I can't be sure of just yet - it all depends on who shows up... there have been a lot of New Feathers already this cycle, and hopefully we would have retained enough of our original students from last term as well.

A lot of people went home this summer, too. [He considers the implications of this kind of turn-over.] Miss Sage, what is it like having different students every year?

I suppose it's not too different from meeting new people in general - at least, as far as being in Luceti goes.

After a while you just get used to the fact that some of the faces you've become accustomed to seeing are no longer going to be there, while appreciating the chance to get to know the newer ones, as well. I've always believed that everyone should have an opportunity to learn.

[These? Are foreign concepts.]

Do you ever wonder what happened to your former students, the ones you don't see anymore?

... I always wonder.

It was different, in the village that I lived in before being taken here. The students were all very young when I started, as was I. There was only one class, because it was a small village. So they all grew together. [Until certain events took place.]

[Now that, he can relate to.]

Is it true that you have to pass a test to get into the school here?

It's not so much as 'passing' a test as it's a test to gauge which areas students are strong in, and which ones they'll need help in, and so forth. It helps us decide how to break up the classes, since everyone has a different level of ability, especially due to the varied worlds involved.

[She pauses for a moment, and tilts her head.] ... Were you interested in attending, Donatello?

[...Uh-oh.]

Oh, I'm sure it's not for me... I would fail everything...

Somehow, I doubt that. Besides, you won't know for certain unless you try.

I've never taken a real test before.

... Do you think I could try it? Just privately, to see what score I get?

You'd just have to try not to think of it as a test. After all, anyone can attend - as I said, it's just a way for us to organize the classes. But you're more than welcome to take it.

[Not think of it as a test? But under what other circumstances would he be answering multiple-choice questions?]

Where would I go?

[Well she means in a sense that he doesn't have to psych himself out. Not everyone has the benefit of a formal education - she knows that quite well.]

You can take it at the school. Monday is the day we're hopefully beginning the tests - if you prefer, you can take it privately in one of the offices.

That would be great. In the morning?

Yes, that's right. Around 9 or so - hopefully you'll get a good night's rest and have a proper breakfast.

[Tossing and turning followed by a big mug of coffee is more likely.]

I'll try.

You still have a few days before then. I'm certain it'll work out fine.

Although, I've been meaning to ask - how have you been doing lately?

I've been fine. Why do you ask? [Lying because he doesn't know you know.]

... Lets just say I heard a few things. I thought it would be better to speak to you personally... if you felt comfortable enough to talk. I can understand if it's not my business.

[Oops. He clears his throat awkwardly.]

Who did you talk to?

[She doesn't feel comfortable saying it outright, but she has a feeling he can put it together.] ... Someone who was very worried about you.

[That definitely narrows down the list.]

I've been doing better.

That last Shift was certainly a lot to take in, and a lot to adjust to.

No one else took it like I did.

How would you say you've taken it...?

I would say a psychic fracture falls under the heading of very badly.

... When the mind is under great strain, it can go to great lengths to cope with something, even if it's not realized.

Experiencing an entire new reality as you've always lived it, while trying to recover yourself once it's passed even within such a short period of time can be quite a strain.

[He sighs and returns to his work.]

I know, but - how many people are in Luceti? And I'm the only one who couldn't handle it?

You don't know that for certain.

... Besides, it doesn't matter how anyone else has dealt with it, or is currently dealing with it. We're individuals.

No one else has admitted to it, at least.

[He throws a part down in frustration.] Sometimes I get really tired of being an individual.

It doesn't seem like an easy thing to admit to in public.

... Hm. That word does have many connotations. What is it... that makes you tired of it?

No one else has asked on behalf of a friend.

[... Not being able to go anywhere in daylight. Knowing he'll never achieve the things he could if only he were human. Trying to help his brothers when they're sick, but always having to guess, only guess, what might be good or safe for them.] So many things would be easier if I were like everyone else.

They may not have seen reason to. Or are handling it in another way.

... Perhaps it would. It's not easy being... what others would perceive as different. Even if those differences are part of what make you... you.

[Hm. You're strangely understanding about this.]

I don't really mind being like this. I just - wish other people wouldn't act that way about it.

It can be very hard for people to see things from a different perspective, if they're strongly rooted in their own.

What's to see? Not screaming at someone just because they look different seems like a pretty easy concept. [He bends down and picks up another piece.] Maybe it's easier when everyone you see is different.

Some people have a hard time of letting go of their preconceived ideas. As easy as the concept sounds, if something is different from what they expect... from how they want things to be, they can have difficulties. Whether it's a single person or a lot of people.

Keeping an open mind can be a difficult task. Those who advocate for it need to be careful that their own perspectives haven't become warped.

[He doesn't need the lecture. He's lived it.]

I don't know what you mean by that. Are you saying that I shouldn't expect humans to change? That I should just accept how they react to me?

[She doesn't mean to lecture. It's just hitting a little closer to home than she expected, and she tends to be more abstract when that happens.]

Hm? No, that isn't what I meant at all. Humans can change. It's simply... a process.

[The argument is forgotten as his attention settles on one word.] ... You said 'humans'.

[She goes quiet for a moment as he picks up on that.]

... So I did.

[A very telling reply.]

That's... um... [He clears his throat awkwardly.] You're very lucky.

In some ways, but not really. [Otherwise, this conversation would probably be a lot different. She does shake her head with a faint smile, briefly.] I just think I spent too much time around an idealist.

[Nod. He understands.] Idealists are a valuable commodity.

They're rare, but if their personalities are strong enough, it can affect those around them, even in the smallest ways.

You told me you met Leo... did you also know Mike?

No... we never met directly. Was he... like that, for you?

I'm not sure if 'idealist' is the right word... he was my optimist. [Pause.] He was everyone's optimist.

It seems like you've must have had quite the household, growing up.

[If only you knew.] We're a very efficient family. Everything you could want, in five people. It's - a very intense experience.

Five of you...? [There's Donatello, Leo, Raphael and Mike. Another brother? Hm. That doesn't seem right. There was April, and perhaps Casey ... but she didn't want to jump to conclusions.]

Me, my three brothers, and our father. [There's a sadness as he names them.]

Your father? ... I see. I'm glad you had someone to look out for you. And each of you... must have developed a role, for balance. [A pause, as she considers.] You and Leonardo must be the older ones.

[He has to laugh at her deduction.] No, I'm the annoyingly responsible third brother. But you're right about the rest. When there are so few people who will do anything for you, you ... learn to make do with who you have. We all found our niche.

Ah, I see. It sounds like you were lucky in that regard.

Mm. [A noncommittal noise.] Sometimes I wonder what we would have been like under more normal circumstances. [He kneels to resume work on his contraption.] Although, personally, I think I came out better for it.

There's always that question of 'what if'... and the situation a few weeks ago was certainly an eye opener in that regard.

[She moves her gaze to his contraption. It looks... interesting.]

Edited 2010-09-18 00:53 (UTC)

Yes. [Especially because his own was so frighteningly likely.] Did you have one, Miss Sage?

I... did. [She's quiet for a moment.]

In hindsight, I'm a little surprised that it ended up being one I hadn't ... exactly imagined, before. But that didn't make it feel any less plausible. Or any less... disorienting, at times.

Edited 2010-09-18 01:08 (UTC)

[He nods.] If the all-possible-worlds theory is true, then every one of us has more alternative selves than we ever could imagine. And all of them are real.

There was a time in my life where I would have believed such a theory impossible. The longer we stay here, the more plausible it feels. There are so many times a choice can be made within a single lifetime. And the choices that people make, in turn, affect one another ... and then you need to factor in accidents, or things that were possibly meant to happen, for something to continue ...

[She shakes her head a little. Heavy stuff, really, and what was the possibility they would remember, once being sent back to their proper place in time? If that happened.] In any case, we are who we are now. Just with... more insight.

Yes. [He pulls down on an arm of his contraption, making it spin like a windmill.] The Extremely Strong Egocentric Principle at work.

[She just smiles a little and shakes her head.] ... Indeed.

What have you been working on?

What, this? I don't know what it is yet.

You don't? [She tilts her head, taking a closer look.]

No. But eventually I might find out.

I see, so it's a work in progress...

Something like that.

Do you create things in this way, often? Not knowing what the result will be?

Edited 2010-09-19 05:07 (UTC)

Sometimes. Helps me think.

It seems like a good way to pass the time. What sort of inventions have you made so far?

[Hm. She hadn't been keen on the missiles, so maybe he'll name some of his less weapons-oriented inventions.] I had a hang-glider, at home. A mobile spy-cam. A diving helmet. Tracking devices... [He smiles in fond memory.] It certainly kept me busy.

[She wasn't keen on the missiles because he wanted to put them on a school building. But she has a healthy appreciation for technology. ... Even if some of them didn't exist in her own world.]

It certainly sounds like it must have. How did you end up trying such a hobby, if I may ask?

It's not exactly a hobby. More of a necessity that I happen to like. [He fiddles with the contraption.] It's my niche.

[She nods in understanding.] I see... so in a way, you're reconnecting with yourself.

[Ah. So that's what he's doing here.] Exactly.

Has it been helping?

I think it has.

You'd know better than anyone. [A soft laugh.] I have to admit, I'm curious as to what the end result will be.

[He glances up.] For the invention? Or for me?

... I meant for the invention. As for yourself... that's another matter entirely, is it not?

They're not as separate as you might think.

So in other words, you don't know where you'll end up, either. But that's what time is for -- for finding a new way, once you've lost the path. [So metaphorical.]

Does anyone? [He adjusts the contraption again.] At any rate, time is one thing I have no shortage of, here.

... Fair enough. [She tilts her head.] Shall I leave you to it?

Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you. [He tends to forget that not everyone finds inventing as fascinating as he does.]

Hm? You weren't keeping me. Actually, I was worried that I was interrupting you. [She actually finds it very interesting.]

[Totally confused. You really want to stay?] No, not at all. I like having company when I work.

All right.

... Is there anything I could help with?

[He smiles shyly.] You've - helped a lot already. [But he'll offer you a rod. Fit it on somewhere?]

[She smiles warmly in return, then steps forward to study the contraption again. A good place for a rod... hmm. It probably would depend on what it was being used for, and the other items already in use.]

[The contraption looks like a horrendously over-designed drying rack: multi-jointed arms unfolding in all directions. It is clearly made out of random junk from the item shop, and its function is questionable at best.]

[Yes... indeed, this would take some figuring out. Perhaps somewhere on the top? But it would need to connect to the other parts... she goes quiet for a bit, just fiddling around with the contraption. It's like a puzzle!

... A puzzle that she's not sure how to complete, but it's still an outlet for that pent up creativity.]

[Maybe that's its function. Don resettles on the ground and enjoys watching Raine play with his invention.]

[She gets fairly absorbed in the activity, before she steps away from it and looks at it thoughtfully. The rod seems like a supporting beam on some form of ... rotating device that spins if you crank it and then ...

... Well. Hm.]

[Don notices Raine's hesitation. Maybe a few words of encouragement?]

There are no wrong answers.

Hm. [No wrong answers, huh? She smiles at him for the encouragement, then glances back to it.] It... reminds me of a carousel, of sorts. What do you think?

[He considers this.]

... What's a carousel?

[... Pause.]

I believe the more familiar name for it is a 'merry-go-round'. I think they may have had one at Altamira.

They're the same? But - [He starts sketching odd, blueprint-like designs in the dirt.] What do you call the thing I put in the playground? The one that spins around?

Oh... you're right. They're similar, but not quite the same.

Perhaps I was thinking of something else. ... If the rotating parts were vertical instead of horizontal, then maybe ...

No, I'm probably the one who's wrong. My vocabulary is - a little off, sometimes. The vertical kind is called a ferris wheel, isn't it?

I didn't go out of my way to familiarize myself with the rides, so it's fine.

And yes, that's correct.

[Aha.] And what do you call that thing with the horses on poles?

I thought that was a variation of a merry-go-round as well...

Oh, maybe it is. I guess Raph was right. [He scratches out his sand-drawings.]

Right about what?

He thought the ones with the horses were called merry-go-rounds. I thought they were called something else. [He shrugs.] I wonder where he picked that one up.

Ah, I see... perhaps you could ask him sometime.

Maybe I will.

It couldn't hurt, in any case.

[Once Don comes back to the house, he'll find his brother sitting on his usual spot on the roof, staring into space with his journal open next to him, half-mindedly listening to people's chatter. Usually he'd be training or at least finding something productive to do with his time, but he just doesn't feel like it lately.]

[Don wheels the motorcycle up to the house, cranes his neck, and - yeah, Raph is on the roof again.]

Hey Raph - where do you want this?

[He glances down to the lawn, looks away, then does a double-take when he spots his bike being rolled across the grass. It lights a fire under his butt enough to hop down off the roof, landing a few feet away from Don.]

I was gonna do that. [Eventually]

[Shrug.] I did it first. Here. [He pushes the bike forward a little, holding it out for Raph to take the handlebars.] I still have to get my collection.

[You know better than to touch his stuff :|

He takes the handlebars and starts pushing it toward the house.]

Place's still got a hell of a lot of junk.

[He'd know. That's where he'd been staying his past few weeks in exile.]

[He built it; it's his stuff 8 || ]

A lot of it I don't care about.

[He'll follow you towards the house. The stuff he does care about can wait a little longer.]

[It was a gift. That makes it his!

He approaches the back door. Hope nobody minds tire tracks on the carpet.]

Open the door, wouldja?

[It hasn't been officially gifted yet, seeing as how Don hasn't quite finished building it. Therefore, still his.]

[Don squeezes in front of the bike, opens the door, and squeezes out again.]

How did the game end?

Lost count after Haruki's stupid team started cheatin'.

Did everyone have a good time, at least?

Yeah. Was a good change of pace. Glad Case pulled through.

[He wheels the bike down the hallway and into his bedroom.]

Hey, you finally made it.

[Watching the motorcycle in mild awe.]

Hi, Smoker. [He stops so you can admire his awesome bike.]

[And once you come a little closer...] Don't tell anyone, but... it still doesn't have an engine.

Heh. That explains why you're walking it I suppose. [Glances it over a little more thoroughly.] Seems a bit heavy for peddling however.

I'm going to make this bike work, Smoker. No one is going to be pedaling it anywhere.

Aha. Figure out what you're going to use for an engine?

Lots of ideas, but still no materials. It's like I'm trapped in a post-apocalyptic future where engine parts are only a myth. [He considers this statement.] Maybe I am.

No luck raiding the items' shop? Hn. I don't know enough about engines, but it seems the blacksmith should be able to do some parts here and there.

No, nothing. I've thought about asking at the smithy, but I really doubt anyone here can make pieces that complicated with just a forge and some tongs. You should have seen how much trouble I had just getting screws.

Heh. Go figure. Well, what do you need to make it? Blueprints and some molding casts?

A mold would help... aside from the fact that making one is nearly as difficult as making the part itself. What I really need a simpler kind of engine, something that can be made by hand.

Well the one for the Billower Bike was simple like that, but unless you've got a steady source of strong smoke or wind I don't know how you'd power it.

I keep thinking a fan-engine would work, but I always run into the problem of how to get the bike moving fast enough to engage the turbine. I need a parallel system to provide initial propulsion.

So a hybrid? [Scratches chin.] Still can't think of anything. I mean there's the basic fire, but you'd still have to have something to make it more continuous.

I could probably build a wood-burning engine, but it would be a pretty dangerous way of powering a motorcycle. It's not worth it.

Definitely over the top. Any other ideas?

A spool-and-crank... but it wouldn't go very fast or very far. Not useful for anything more than a wind-up toy.

Unless there was a way to charge the battery at home. Store it all and then burn as necessary.

[Shakes his head.] A battery was my next idea, but I can't find one of those either. Not big enough for something like this.

Hn. I don't know the first thing about batteries, but maybe you could make one?

I wish - but I really have no idea how.

Damn. Maybe someone else in Luceti knows?

So many people here didn't even know what electricity was.

Fair point. [Sighs.]

[He takes the handlebars, ready to move on.] There has to be something I can do, though. If you have any more ideas... let me know.

I'll try to think something up. [Waves and gets moving himself.] Good luck Donatello.

Twenty-fifth Theory [Action]

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