We Come Back

[Molly Quincannon] [[Awareness first.]]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Jim Franklin] [Awareness here too]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Molly Quincannon] Joe's won't come as a surprise to a newcomer, if only because the entity known as 'Mad Maudlin' sent a URL for the place before they agreed to meet there. It's a cosy place, all mismatched furniture and mismatched mugs and college-art-project stuff on the walls (and a kinetic sculpture by the fireplace). It's kind of boho, and its menu is wide and varied. There are pastries - some are vegan, and marked as such on the menu - and coffee and various kinds of tea.

Maudlin says that s/he will be recognisable by the 'Freakangels' wifebeater, the laptop bag and the ink. The first two are obvious on a brunette of average height who walks in exactly on time ... as, frankly, is the third; the woman is also in jeans shorts, and there are a lot of tattoos on this woman. Some of them are mangled by scar tissue - right shoulder, left upper chest (though the scars are faint there, and smaller than the extensive mangling of the tattooed gear wheels around them should indicate), left forearm. And then there's the feel of her - Frantic in spades, anchored by Tenacity and directed by something Searching. Mage, then. And not without a significant amount of power.

However Jim said she should recognise him, it's clear she feels him before she sees him. Most people would look around the room; her eyes go right to him ... and then so does she. "And you would be AMechanicalRodent," she says, with a bit of a grin. "And we have more in common than I thought, which is awesome but not really much of a surprise, considering. How's the neural net on Sagan coming? Because I was thinking about that thing you were talking about in your last blog post about how he looks up at the sun and thinking that you could expand on the spectrum recognition to maybe work some colour sight into Darwin ... not that that's necessarily a thing that's needed in a mechanical rodent but he might enjoy the change in scenery and I know Zoing likes my Invisibles poster a lot since I coded him a spectrum recognition subroutine. Also ... hi. Did you get coffee? Have you been waiting long?"

Yeah. She talks like her emails.

[Jim Franklin] *He gets there a little bit early, and shies away from the people there. There are several people, of course, and he moves carefully, all with a quiet 'excuse me', repeated, somewhat softly. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, thick and heavy. Contacts could be worn, he supposes, but he falls asleep at the computer so often that it seems like it would be bad for him.*

*And they get so DIRTY.*

*He creeps towards the place that he was told to meet her at. And he's not sure WHAT to expect, not really. but the place smells fairly nice, at least. He works very, very hard not to touch anyone. He does bump into one person, and then he hears the voice. Whirling on his feet, he faces the woman with wide, rather terrified eyes, listening to her speak, and introduce herself. He listens, his heart beating a rabbit's race.*

*It takes him a few moments to respond, and then he finally stammers out,* Ahh... p...pardon?

[Molly Quincannon] That gets a blink - the look on her face is concerned curiosity. "You okay? I'm ... not going to eat your head. Why do you look like you think I'm going to eat your head? I'm not going to eat your head; I know it's nearly dinner but if I get that hungry, there's pastry, eff-eff-ess. Speaking of ... clearly you do not have coffee. And maybe could use something a bit more soothing anyway. Look, just ... sit down, deep breath, okay? I'm not going to ... do anything ... unpleasant at you. Really. Sorry. I just ... am a motormouth and look, let's start this again. Hi. I'm ... you know me as Maudlin." She's lowered her voice at this point, so it won't carry beyond the two of them. (She smells nice too, if you like that kind of thing - cyclamen and spices and that ozone kind of smell you get from soldering.) Then she raises her voice again and adds, "But you can call me Molly. It's the name I use in the real. See? Freakangels wifebeater ... laptop bag ... ink. Hi?"

[Jim Franklin] *He looks at her from the corners of his eyes. And yes. Clearly. He thinks she is going to eat his head. He sticks out his hand quickly.* JimFranklinhihowareyou? *he says quickly, with one breath, as one word.* Ahh... Just Jim. That... that is f...fine. S...sorry, I just... I wasn't... I wasn't sure what to expect. *No, of course he's not paranoid!* No, no,... ummh... No... no c...coffee, not yet, I'm... I'm vegan, so... so ... just... no cream. I mean! I think! A soy latte, but I can afford... afford it!

[Molly Quincannon] Molly smiles, shakes his hand (her hands are probably a lot like his, maybe a little more so - rough with callouses and nicks and the occasional solder burn, though he likely cringes at the oil stains around her cuticle beds) and says, "Yeah, I'm not saying you can't afford it, but you can't expect me to not buy you a little thing like a soy latte after all the inspiration-fodder you've thrown my way lately, can you? I mean, seriously, I was brought up in an auto shop, not a barn. So take a seat! I'll grab you a latte - soy, obviously - and be right back."

She turns towards the drinks counter, then turns back to him to address the comment about not knowing what to expect - and is that joy and glee and delight on her face? It may well be. "No, I didn't either. That's half the fun!" With that, she bounces off to the counter to order. This likely gives him a little bit of time to collect himself before she comes back (if he hasn't decided to run off, that is) with his soy latte and something that smells like not coffee but liquefied coffee bean spiked with chocolate.

And a pastry. Which she takes a bite of before smiling and saying, "See? Way tastier than headmeat."

[Jim Franklin] Not a zombie, *he says, with a small swallow, and a very nervous laugh, as he finds a place to sit, far away enough from the rest of the crowd.* No. B...but, Th...thank you. For the latte, I wanted t...to... I will... I WILL get my own next time. *Awwh, he's trying to show that he has a pair.*

[Molly Quincannon] The sitting away from people doesn't get so much as a bat of her eyes; she's used to being seated in restaurants according to having a clear line of sight to all the exits; she knows paranoiacs well. Hell, she's dating one. Though ... not quite like this. But she's as gentle as she knows how to be ... which is to tease. "No, not a zombie. Though zombies feature heavily in my Christmas gift wrapping options. Gotta love ThinkGeek. And okay. I don't tend to be pushy about any drinks but the 'welcome to Chicago' drinks. So how're you liking the city so far? And have you met anybody else? I mean, like us. And I'm betting you're an Etherite." Voice low, even out of the main traffic areas. She knows how to be discreet. She's been around the block more than a few times. "I mean, unless you're not, but it's a guess. My ... erm, I guess you could say 'housemate' is one of those and I know the style. So anyway, yeah, Chicago's kind of like Awakened Mecca, and you came in between ... um..." Don't say 'apocalypses' don't say 'apocalypses' don't say 'apocalypses'... "...'interesting times'. In the Chinese curse/blessing sense. Do you like the city so far?"

[Jim Franklin] *His eyes widen, and he looks around. He adjusts his collar slightly.* I... uhh. W...well. I ... don't get out ... much. *It's an admittance that is clearly an understatement. He likely means the first times he was outside were today, and when he got off the plane. And he does not confirm, although his avoidance of the question might as WELL be an admittance.* The city itself is... pretty, I guess. It's a city. I mean, my place is nice, and very close to a Radio Shack. *It seems he requires very little.* But I like this place. It's f...fairly dark, and it smells nice.

[Molly Quincannon] Now the bit about Radio Shack does get a blink. "Oh, dude, you need to upgrade your shopping experience. Or at least come with me to the scrapyards in the industrial district sometime. You wouldn't believe what people throw away, and me and Atlas - who's the other Son, so to speak - we know people there so we basically get as much as we can cart away for really not that much cash. Might help with the 'getting out' thing and save you some cash. Plus I hate to see people throw things away that could be useful with a bit of tee-el-cee." Then curiosity seizes her again - apparently it's a regular thing; any lump of communication from this woman will invariably contain a sentence that ends with a question mark. "What do you do to keep yourself in soy milk and circuitry, anyway? I never asked, and while I kind of figured robotics prodigy in a cleanroom somewhere, I also ... kind of don't, meeting you."

[Jim Franklin] The... the junkyard? But it's so... *He winces.* Well. A few... a few minutes in there and my eyes are w...watering. *The switches in topic clearly have his mind whirling.* Ummh. Well. I d...do a lot of technical support, and... and, well, college hasn't st...started yet, but when it does, the cash starts r...rolling in for repairs and building computers.

[Molly Quincannon] "Oh, no no no no no. You're thinking of your average common-or-garden dump where anyone dumps any old stuff. These are dedicated scrapyards. Organic material need not apply. You'll be fine. Honest. I built Zoing, three spider-cams and the best part of a '62 Crown Imperial out of a couple of the places around there and never saw a rotting anything. Well. Upholstery sometimes." Not, clearly, that Molly seems to care about the smells, if any. It's just a point of interest.

And then we're focusing on the next thing. "Ah, tech support. I do that for a bit of extra cash but lately I haven't needed it and I haven't had time. If you're interested, I've got a budding indie press looking for someone to build a four-man office network set-up. They're paying well, given they're a start-up. I think the guy in charge comes from money and is looking forward to thumbing his nose at Daddy's ubercapitalist big-publisher monopoly. Mostly he's doing ebooks - kind of like Smashwords, but with more style. If that's the kind of thing you're into?"

[Jim Franklin] *He pauses.* Ahh... I'll... consider it. I'm not ready to publish any of my work. It's... it's sort of pr...private right now. *He winces.* Besides, they're not NEARLY ready.

[Molly Quincannon] There's another blink at that, and then Molly laughs. "No, I meant you'd be setting up their computers and networking and stuff. They know good literature, but they don't know computers from a hole in a wall."

[Jim Franklin] Ohh. Uhh... Well. I mean... *He flinches.* I... app...appreciate the contacts, but I can d...deal with it. I mean... maybe SOON, but here, I d...don't know anyone, and I'd prefer to know where my enemies are.

[Molly Quincannon] "...........Oh. That." There's a moment of clear contemplation, and then she sighs. "Yeah, well, I won't pretend they're not around. Things like what happened back in April tend to get attention. But I'm keeping an eye on them and these guys? These publisher guys? No chance in hell. What, you think I didn't check them out first? I may be a little overconfident, but there's some things I don't screw with, y'know? Anyway, just know the offer's there. I've got a million of 'em, and I'd rather them go to someone I know is good if I can't do 'em myself."

Then, interested: "So ... you're going to publish about the mechanical rodents sometime, then? Oh, I'd love to meet them ... y'know, when you're absolutely sure I'm not going to eat your head. And I need to show you Zoing. And the spider-bots. And the Lafette. And maybe Atlas, if you can bear meeting another new person so soon. I know I'm a little ... much, sometimes. Sorry. I get enthusiastic. So ... tell me; why mechanical rodents? Better mousetrap too overdone?"

[Jim Franklin] Well... *He winces.* Well. They're... I... that is. My allergies. *He flinches.* I'm a...allergic to real mice. Anything with f...fur. So I decided to make my own. I have the bl...blueprints on my hard drive. And then... then I saw it as a very good way to increase my experiments. The programming was simple. Just a basic mouse intelligence program. It started with patterns, then recognition. When I introduced food into their repertoire, they just amazed me.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly laughs at that, delighted. "Oh, that's awesome! Man, wish I'd been that savvy when I was a kid; I'm not allergic but my parents were oh-em-gee Israel you must meet her because she is awesome and really really nice but she has this dog and he is awesome but he's a Harlequin Great Dane and he's going to be huge and you would sneeze your head off while he nommed his first Cthulu and looked bewildered at you and if you're allergic to fur, what're you using for the fur for your rodents? Or are you using fur? I know they have that hypoallergenic stuff now and oh hey, did you ever think of hypoallergenic cats? They have those now, y'know, and if you did need a source of hypoallergenic fur you could do better than to try to find some of that and ... huh, I wonder if K has hypoallergenic cat pelt or knows where to get some..." She blinks. "Anyway. Sorry. The questions still stand. Also, have you found some way to match their behaviour to actual pet mice? I would help there but what I've got are ferrets and I don't think that's the same thing ... hey, do you think we could build mechanical ferrets? Those would be so awesome and if we programmed them right, we could use them for sabotage purposes if things ever got sticky!"

[Jim Franklin] *He blinks, and it;s clear, he's having a hard time keeping up with her.* Uhh... *He blinks.* I don't use fur for them, I just need them for the mechanical and intelligence aspects, not for the pet aspect. I wouldn't call them affectionate, although sometimes Genesis falls asleep on my knee. Sometimes. Darwin is highly independent. And... and I don't think I could deal with having another pet. I... don't remember to feed MYSELF sometimes.

Although, I wonder if they would behave instinctively, seeing a preternatural predator. *He frowns, and it's clear, his mind is whirling.* A ferret would work, however. They are standardly omnivorous.

[Molly Quincannon] Mommy Mode engaged. "I'm going to build you a Zoing. I mean, I can relate, seriously, so I programmed Zoing to nag me to eat if I forgot too long. Mostly because I'm the one who makes sure Atlas eats. I need to find some decent vegan recipes, clearly. So no hypoallergenic cats, but ... what's the point of having mice if they're not furry? You could probably integrate some fibreoptics or something like that into the fur, so that maybe they could have a reaction to tactile sensation. It'd be an interesting experiment, no? And I'd offer up my ferrets to see if they'd behave instinctively, but ... allergies. But ... oh! I could do something about that! If I set up the right kind of ... well, filters ... or even just tweak the air currents to keep whatever dander a ferret's fur throws off downwind of you ... Forces and Entropy are the bomb, seriously."

[Jim Franklin] Right now, they just have pressure points, and they realize they're pressing something, but actual sensation would be near impossible to design into the software. I have been trying. But it's not quite WORKING. *He sounds frustrated, just a bit at that.* And... and thank you, but no. Honestly. They are experiments. The use of fur would be... well. Not QUITE so much. One day, maybe, but I'd like them to learn first.

[Molly Quincannon] "Cool; just remember that the offer's there." At least she doesn't offend easily; that's probably something. Jim seems to be stammering less, and frankly that's Molly's primary goal here. "Well ... if it's not too personal a question, what ... skill trees have you got? 'Cos I've been working with Mind a lot recently and it's given me a whole new perspective on AI. I haven't tried to design strokeable hypoallergenic fur on mechanical animals but I probably could. Or at least come closer now. So ... have you got any Mind? Life?"

[Jim Franklin] Ahh... n...not enough. *He winces.* I... I know a bit of mind, and I can work with the essence of the universe, ahh... Prime. Common name. And I can work with items as well, matter. Although strokeable hypoallergenic fur ... what would be the purpose? If I started selling it, people would be drawn to the attention of my experiments. And they're not READY yet. *He almost pleads with her.*

[Molly Quincannon] That last gets such a quizzical little tilt of the head that it's possibly funny or possibly just heartbreakingly vulnerable. "...Because it's something new, for them and for you? Because it might feel nice for them? You're making thinking beings, Jim; sensations are vital to the growth and development of any thinking being. And ... because it's a challenge? Also because it might affect their learned behaviour; if there's at least a differential between 'pleasant sensation' and 'unpleasant sensation' in the pseudosynapes woven into the fur or the skin layer beneath, then it'd be a quantum leap in their development. You could see whether they prefer finger-pets or rubbing up against the cage bars, see how the learning is affected by a sensory input that's closer to something living ... but mostly because they're thinking beings and deserve something ... nice, I guess. The strokeable isn't for you or for the world; it's for them, and for the challenge of learning to do it. I didn't think you were going to market them for the 2011 Christmas rush or anything."

Then, with a shrug and a grin, she adds, "Well, I've got most of those. Not the Matter that I think is your Trad speciality, but ... well, Prime to a small degree, but a whole bunch of others to about Initiate. Though I'm getting better with Time now. I think I'll have cracked on to the next level of that one soon. But then, it is my Trad speciality, so not a surprise. But yeah, if you ever need or want a little nudge in the direction of Time, Correspondence, Entropy - which is brilliant for coding a system that learns, by the way - and more Mind ... I'm around."

[Jim Franklin] *He blinks at that. He doesn't explain again. His experiments. He nods.* Okay. *No time to disillusion her. Although the advancement DOES sound interesting.* I could c...certainly work with that. See what I could come up with. Possibly fiberoptic cabling as their fur, create a different sort of sensation. *He rubs his chin, and finally goes for his latte.*

[Molly Quincannon] Molly's been swigging at her own drink between replies, and now she watches him, all searching curiosity. Then, with the sort of (over)confidence that just lets her say whatever's in her head at any given moment but still at least trying to be sensitive, she asks, "Have you been through serious shit before coming here? I mean, like ... well, our kind of 'people are out to get us because they're hidebound, closed-minded control freaks' serious shit? 'Cos just so you know? If so, I do actually get it. Believe me, this?" She gestures over her upper body to showcase the scars like some game show babe (though she doesn't remotely have the body for it; 'more than a handful's wasted' rack and a body that's nearly boyish all the way down). "I don't consider this kind of thing body art. Hagalaz I'm so very much not."

[Jim Franklin] *He shakes his head, and he winces, clearly nervous again.* b...but everyone I KNOW HAS, when they get out. They... they just don't come back. They never c...come back. Either one way or an...another. I... kept things safe. Nothing... I mean... I mean, I've s...seen people go through more serious. But I can't just... I can't just go out. I'll... get hurt. Or worse. I KNOW. The odds are for it.

[Molly Quincannon] There's a moment of consideration there, and then she leans in, just a little - not enough to be threatening, but enough so that she can lower her voice and still be heard, if only by him. "Well, I'll tell you this for nothing; we come back. I mean, yeah, okay, we get hurt and we get messed with and we get the scars, inside and out, to carry, y'know? But we come back. We bring each other back. Always. No exceptions. I've been here about a year - not as long as some, longer than others - and I've been at death's door at least twice since I got here. Once it took a hit squad to get me out. Hell, three of my dearest friends got shoved into a pocket dimension, eff-eff-ess. But they're back and healthy and getting through the baggage it left them with. Just like I'm back and healthy and got through the baggage that I got left with after the worst of it. I know that seeing all that shit is really nerve-wracking, especially when..." She takes a breath, closes her eyes for a second. "...Especially when you see someone not come back. Or, in your case, more than one. But ... maybe you'll get hurt. We do. But it won't be worse. We won't let it be. I sure as hell won't, and everyone I hang with has a 'no man left behind' policy. I know we've only just met face to face, but ... dude, I've been conversing with you for, like, ever. I think you're awesome. I don't let awesome get hurt or worse if I can avoid it. I know this doesn't get believed overnight, but ... just know that I don't let shit happen to my friends. Okay?"

[Jim Franklin] *He pauses at that, and it's clear, every word is sinking in. But his eyes widen, and the part that hits the tiniest remaining bit of his ego clicks in a small space.* You... th...think I'm awesome?

[Molly Quincannon] She smiles - it's that grin that's so bright and delighted that her nose wriggles a little with it. "Well, duh. You build mechanical rodents, you're modest like whoa about it and everything else, you've got the guts to come out and meet with someone that you met on the internet - okay, a hard-to-find part of the internet, but that's even more impresive, thinking about it - even after all the shit you've been through, and you rock a pair of glasses. Plus you've listened to me ramble for fifteen minutes and haven't told me to shut up or laughed at me, like, once. You're more than awesome; you're ... Etheriffic!"

[Jim Franklin] *He actually giggles a little bit at that.* Etherrific. I'm... I'm g...going to have to r...remember that. You're... You're pretty... *He pauses.* cult-tastic. Yours...self.

[Molly Quincannon] He giggles a little, and Molly, more delighted yet, joins in. "I made you laugh. I rock the casbah and all casbah-related events! And I am Cult-tastic! Okay, that's just plain synawsome. ...Synonyficent? That needs work. Anyway, thank you. It's nice to have an adjective. So ... what do you do for fun? Sorry, but I've been emailing you for, like, ever and now you're sitting here and I want to get to know the man behind the mechanical rodents, y'know?"

[Jim Franklin] Ahh. W...well. not... I mean. I just... usually go on... online, and... that... is what... what I do for fun. *He winces.* I mean... I listen to SOME m...music. But I LIKE to build, to invent. It... it makes me happy.

[Molly Quincannon] "A hobby, a raison d'etre, I get that." Apparently, Molly doesn't judge. "I should've said 'what else do you do for fun?', really, but I figured that was a given. I mean, I code code-breakers and hack multinational corporations for fun. Well, that and logic puzzles. And TV. And a lot of different kinds of music. I multi-task well. So, what bands do you like?"

Molly has questions, all manner of them; and what's more, she truly listens to the answers. She asks because she wants to know, not to be polite. So conversation likely continues until one or the other of them has to go - possibly Molly, who does eventually have to go back to the Lafette to make sure Atlas gets dinner "...and try to talk him out of building an aerial transit mode into my car. But here." There's a contact number given. "In case it's too urgent for email. And we ought to meet up for lunch or something sometime. I know this great little vegan buffet a few blocks down."

Such is Jim's introduction to Chicago magi.