Sime~Gen Roleplaying on IRC: Snake River Dam Scenario
Episode #21: Lugubrious Maximus (7/24/00)
Coras sits staring at the wall of his "cell". It has been a long time coming, but this time there won't be any Gen to feel sorry for him and prolong the agony.
Coras waits alone, remembering the screaming Gen with the knife trying to stab his own daughter. It had been a one in a million thing that cut, clean, right across both ventrals.
Coras thinks if only he had bled to death, this wouldn't be happening. Ah, well the Tecton didn't require him anyway. They had made that clear enough.
Guard sits at his desk filing his fingernails. He jumps and nearly stabs his hand at the horrifying emotion the channel blasts through the ambient.
Guard: Hey, quit that!
Guard: Don't you got any manners?
Coras looks up to see who is coming.
Kriller clutches his throbbing head.
Guard knows that very few of the people who end up in the "pokey" have the slightest concept of manners, but you expect a little more from a channel.
Kriller looks up at the guard.
Kriller: Could ya breathe a little quieter? I'm dyin' here.
Coras cringes at the overwhelming sick pain flooding the ambient.
Coras had hoped to die in peace or at least alone.
Carbonne sprawls on the rough wood floor, all gangling arms and legs.
Carbonne sports various injuries, but he is feeling no pain as of yet.
Kriller nudges Carbonne.
Coras is getting nauseous.
Kriller: Don't s'pose you got some hair of the Gen, do you?
Carbonne is vaguely aware that a body part is impinging on his, not to mention a very unpleasant nager.
Carbonne's eyes flutter open.
Kriller is very much into hair of the Gen that shenned him. In the figurative sense, of course.
Carbonne: Waaah?
Coras moves as far away from the two new arrivals as he can. He is trying desperately not to zlin.
Carbonne takes his job as bouncer and bar-tender at Mardith's speak-easy very seriously.
Carbonne, even in his dazed condition, realizes that he is being asked to pour a drink.
Kriller: Hair of the Gen?
Carbonne: Uh... yeah... sure....
Carbonne tries to sit upright, but this is a mistake.
Carbonne is a mass of abrasions and contusions from trying to bounce a Sime who was twice his size and augmenting heavily.
Coras has to clamp down hard on his control to keep from being overwhelmed. Drunks, why did it have to be drunks?!
Carbonne thinks this job is still better than coal mining, though.
Carbonne slides a tentacle down inside the top of his high boots and extracts a flask.
Carbonne weakly pushes the flask in the direction of Kriller.
Kriller grabs the flask with ~~ enthusiasm ~~ and gulps at it.
Carbonne: Tooo cweditsss. On yur tab.
Kriller: Shure, sure....
Carbonne hopes he will remember this when next Mardith keeps the books.
Kriller's tab is so large, and his prospects so small, that two credits more makes no difference to him.
Coras can't help but moan as the ambient continues its assault on him.
Kriller figures that when he can't get served any more, it'll be time to move on to a new bar.
Guard notices that the crazy, drunk Sime is drinking some more!
Guard thought he had confiscated all the liquor and drugs at the door.
Guard: Hey!
Guard: Stop that!
Guard comes charging down to the door to the lock-up.
Guard rapidly unlocks the cell.
Kriller: Hey, ya don't have to shout!
Guard: Hand that over! Right now!
Kriller: There's plenty.
Kriller takes another gulp.
Guard grabs the flask out of Kriller's hands.
Coras can't take it any more. He gets up and goes to the door.
Coras: Please! Can you put them somewhere else!
Guard blocks his path.
Guard: Where do you think you're going?
Coras: Anywhere but here. Please put me somewhere else, anywhere else.
Guard: There is no where else.
Guard: You're lucky; it's a slow night.
Guard: Now park your ass and wait.
Guard examines the flask.
Kriller feels the Gen-hair start to take effect, numbing a bit of the hangover.
Coras thinks it would be so easy to just attack the guard and end his life here and now.
Guard realizes why he didn't find it when he zlinned; it is made of leather and was hidden in Carbonne's leather boot.
Guard goes over to Carbonne and starts a much more thorough search.
Kriller therefore starts to take a renewed interest in his surroundings: the two bartenders, two channels and two guards, each holding a flask.
Coras thinks maybe suicide by that means would be a bit messy. But throwing up would be just as messy.
Carbonne: ~~pain as sore spots are patted down~~
Kriller notes that the guard has not returned the flask(s?) to him: a rather rude violation of the drinker's etiquette.
Kriller lurches over towards the guard.
Guard winces.
Kriller: Hey, give that back! It's mine!
Coras jumps straight back to his corner of the cell.
Guard: Cool it, buster, or I'll cool it for you!
Kriller stumbles over his feet (he's not used to having four), and lands at the feet of Carbonne and the guard.
Kriller: Ooooooohhh!
Guard: You've had plenty for tonight!
Kriller pouts, blinking up at the guard.
Guard: That's probably a good place for you. Stay there.
Kriller: I'm dying. A man shouldn't have to go to his grave thirsty, should he?
Guard: From the looks of you, you'll go to your grave swimming like a fish.
Kriller: Don't like fish. They stink.
Guard continues his inspection of Carbonne's prone form.
Coras wishes he were dead already, then he wouldn't be sick.
Kriller realizes that he's not going to get anything more to drink.
Coras thinks they couldn't stink more than his cellmates.
Guard zlins Coras' despair.
Guard: Hey, you!
Guard: You're a channel.
Coras looks up.
Coras: I used to be.
Guard: You don't like the ambient, do something about it.
Guard: Don't make it worse.
Kriller: A channel?
Coras is beginning to like the idea of attacking the guard more and more.
Kriller tries to zlin beyond his thirst for the first time, and finally locates the two (or is it only one) channels (or channel?) in the corner.
Kriller: Hey, Hajene! A dying man should get some medical attention, shouldn't he?
Guard zlins Coras getting angry. This is not as uncomfortable as the previous emotion.
Kriller starts to crawl towards Coras, as he isn't sure which floor is real.
Coras shakes his head and decides it isn't worth the selyn. He will wait.
Guard requires a pretty thick skin to do this job.
Kriller reaches out to grab Coras's boots.
Kriller: My head's about to fall off.
Kriller: Make it stay where it belongs, will ya, Hajene?
Coras is now trapped against the wall with nowhere to go.
Guard finishes extracting more flasks from Carbonne's clothes and leaves the cell.
Carbonne: Heeeeey !
Kriller tugs on the boot tops.
Carbonne: Hee shh robbinggg meeee.
Coras looks down at the renSime who is now crawling up his leg.
Kriller turns to looks at Carbonne blearily.
Guard: You'll get your gear returned at check-out, sport.
Kriller: Robbing you? Call the guard. Can't haf...have that.
Coras is trying to decide if there is anything that he can do for the man.
Carbonne: No!
Carbonne: No police.
Carbonne: Don't want no police.
Kriller thinks (?) that over.
Kriller: Yeah. They never buy a fellow a drink.
Coras shrugs. He can't get in any more trouble than he is in already. Besides, once they zlin his scar he knows they will leave him alone.
Kriller looks up at Coras.
Coras: If you promise to leave me alone, I will help you.
Kriller notes something weird about Coras's arm.
Kriller blinks, but it's still there.
Kriller: Hey, how come all your handling tentacles are on top?
Coras sighs.
Coras: I lost my ventrals trying to keep someone from getting murdered.
Kriller is, of course, under the misapprehension that Coras has the usual number of tentacles, if an unusual distribution.
Coras: If you don't want to touch me, I will understand.
Kriller peers at Coras's arm again, making an effort to clear his double vision.
Kriller yells in genuine alarm and scoots away from the channel.
Kriller: His arm! It's half Gen!
Guard looks up.
Guard: Keep it down there.
Coras can zlin the visual and nageric distortions and is getting closer to throwing up.
Emmet approaches the make-shift building that passes for a detention center.
Emmet has spent all day out in the wilderness gathering census figures and he is exhausted.
Emmet really didn't want another after-hours assignment.
Coras looks at the drunk leaning on his leg and his perverse sense of humor takes hold.
Emmet enters the jail and comes up to the guard.
Coras realizes just how silly the whole situation is.
Guard looks up.
Emmet: I'm here to talk to one of the people in custody... called Coras?
Guard gestures.
Guard: He's right over there.
Emmet frowns.
Coras waits for the drunk to decide if he wants his help. Then he zlins a Donor, First from the nager, coming toward the cell.
Emmet: Could we have some privacy?
Guard shrugs.
Guard: Where?
Coras: Here.
Coras stands, shedding the drunk like a leaf.
Guard: My orders are not to let 'im out of here.
Emmet frowns.
Emmet: Is there another cell?
Kriller doesn't often get a zlin of a First Order Donor, and watches Emmet with interest. Both of him.
Guard: Nah. You talk to him there, or come back in the morning when the Sergeant's here.
Coras shuts down his innate interest in the Gen.
Emmet sighs.
Emmet: Very well then. I'll talk to him here.
Guard: Okay, I'll open the door for you.
Coras withdraws his own nager as far as he can.
Guard zlins Emmet with interest.
Guard: Guess you can take care of yourself, sport?
Emmet: [grimly] That's right.
Guard opens the door.
Kriller grins broadly at Emmet.
Kriller: You got anything to drink?
Emmet enters the cell.
Kriller: A man shouldn't have to die of thirst.
Emmet: ~~frigid~~
Emmet: No, nothing to drink.
Emmet glances around at the abused bodies in the drunk tank; nothing new here.
Coras is pressing himself back into the corner, even though he would like nothing more than to bask in the nager of the strange Donor.
Kriller shivers at the frigid nager, and crawls over to hide behind Carbonne.
Coras decides that this Donor could use a bit of warning up first.
Emmet watches the drunks back away from his nager with cold satisfaction.
Emmet spots the channel cringing in the corner.
Coras: Would you like to sit here? [point to his own spot]
Emmet: Are you Coras?
Coras: Yes.
Emmet offers basic support to the channel.
Emmet: I would like to speak with you.
Coras almost passes out as the relief washes over him.
Emmet: Thank you. Yes, I will sit.
Emmet takes the seat offered.
Coras is having a hard time hearing through his own giddiness.
Emmet: Why don't you join me?
Coras collapses right next to Emmet.
Kriller looks at Coras enviously: Donors don't give such invitations to him.
Coras: Thank you, Sosu...?
Emmet surveys the room to see what the other Simes are doing.
Emmet: Sosu Emmet.
Coras: Thank you, Sosu Emmet.
Emmet sees that he is no longer being accosted, so extends his field to balance the ambient within the whole area.
Emmet: You're very welcome.
Coras: I must admit that I am glad you came. But I know this isn't a social call. [waves a tentacle at their surroundings]
Kriller perks up as the ambient lightens.
Emmet: You are correct.
Coras: What may I do for you then?
Emmet: Where is the Gen who accompanied you? Jesup, I believe the name was?
Coras: I wish I knew Sosu. She left a note that she would be back but I haven't seen her since yesterday.
Emmet: You said this Gen is from out-Territory?
Coras: Yes. She washed out of Donor training and was on her way home when she... found me.
Emmet: Ah... do you know where she trained?
Coras: Sorry no. Jes was very closed mouth about herself.
Emmet: And you say she washed out. What was the problem?
Coras: Said she couldn't see why she had to control her nager all the time.
Coras: She thought that channels are a bit babyish.
Emmet: I see.
Coras: It was hard living with her.
Emmet agrees that channels can be a bit babyish, but thinks that is all the more reason why a Gen must stay in control at all times.
Emmet: What was difficult?
Coras: I learned how to fend for myself nagerically speaking. She would blast me without warning.
Emmet: She was undisciplined?
Emmet: ~~disapproval~~
Coras: That, Sosu, is putting it mildly.
Emmet: We are searching for her. But we have not found her yet.
Coras: She thought I should learn not to depend on her too much.
Coras: If she doesn't want to be found you won't find her.
Emmet: You were together for months?
Kriller sincerely hopes that they don't fink this Gen, if she's to be confined in the drunk tank with him afterwards.
Coras: Yes.
Emmet: If she is still on this side of the lake, we will find her.
Emmet: That's guaranteed.
Emmet: ~~total conviction in the power of the Tecton~~
Coras remembers looking for her for nearly and hour and finding her only when she let him.
Coras: She is very good at hide and seek.
Emmet: And now to your situation.
Coras: Yes. [resigns himself to his fate]
Emmet: There is much channeling work to be done here.
Emmet: There are thousands of Simes who are indigent, hurt and in Need.
Coras looks at the Gen in stark surprise.
Coras: Didn't they tell you that they put me in here to die?
Emmet: They said you wanted to die.
Coras tries to zlin the Donor more closely without being too rude.
Coras: I choose not to prolong my suffering on channel's transfers.
Coras: Death is the result of such a choice.
Emmet: But it is your choice. And you could make a different one.
Coras is beginning to feel like a parrot. Here I go again....
Coras: No Sime can stand to touch me.
Coras: At least not in transfer.
Emmet: That is simply not true.
Coras: The scarring causes too much distortion.
Emmet: We can find you plenty who would be glad to make use of you.
Coras thinks oh lovely, another nager blind Gen telling him what the color of truth is.
Emmet: And there is healing work to be done as well.
Kriller thinks this is the most sensible thing he's heard yet.
Kriller: Yeah. My head hurts.
Kriller: Wanna fix it, Sosu?
Kriller: ~~ wistful ~~
Emmet: You see?
Coras takes a deep breath and regrets it immediately. The stench is thick to say the least.
Emmet: You are needed.
Coras: So you want me to heal drunks. No thank you.
Coras has some shred of dignity left somewhere, if he could just lay a tentacle on it.
Emmet: You're too good for that?
Emmet: You want real blood and guts?
Emmet: Catastrophes like the accident that destroyed your life?
Emmet: We've got them.
Emmet: We need every channel we can get.
Coras: I would never turn down anyone in need. But there are things worse than death.
Emmet: What is worse?
Coras: [looks pointedly at his cellmates]
Emmet: They're in pain.
Emmet: How is their pain less important than the pain of any other human being?
Kriller: Yeah?
Kriller happens to think that his pain is considerably more important than others'.
Coras: [Looks at Emmet sadly] What is worse than death? Holding onto a renSime in her fourth abort. Praying that someone will get there before she dies. Knowing that it is because of your own mutilation that you can't hold her through a complete transfer. That is worse than death.
Coras: I decided to quit before I murdered someone.
Emmet: And what was your reason to quit healing.
Emmet: Why do you let that poor man lie on the floor with his face covered in bruises when you could help him.
Coras: I have to touch them to heal. Every Sime I've touched has been revolted.
Emmet: They are not revolted when the pain goes away, I am sure.
Coras: I never get that far.
Coras: Ever touch something that makes you flesh crawl?
Emmet: You are a channel.
Emmet: Do you stop taking a donation because a Gen fears you?
Emmet: How is this any different?
Coras: This isn't fear!
Emmet: I assure you, our out-Territory Gens may prefer you with a few tentacles less.
Coras takes a hard look at Emmet. Is he joking with me?!
Emmet wishes he was joking.
Coras decides that whether he is or not that was funny. He starts to laugh and suddenly can't stop. Tears are now rolling down his face.
Coras just past turn over and this Gen makes him laugh.
Emmet: ~~calm~~
Coras stops laughing as quickly as he started. His sides are feeling sore. But he has an idea.
Coras: All right, Sosu Emmet. Let me show you what happens.
Coras gets up and walks over to his cellmates.
Coras: Which one of you wants my help?
Emmet watches, ready to go into working mode if Coras can be persuaded to function.
Kriller perks up.
Carbonne stirs dazedly at the louder voice.
Carbonne has a mild concussion and isn't entirely sure what is going on.
Kriller: My head hurts worse than a burned-out Gen.
Coras: [Says the words he has not spoken for months] Here, let me help you.
Kriller might perhaps have picked a less provocative metaphor if he'd been sober.
Coras holds out his hands to the renSime.
Emmet: ~~full support~~
Kriller reaches out to put his hands in Coras's.
Kriller's handling tentacles automatically reach out to entwine with the channel's.
Emmet: ~~calm optimism~~
Coras hesitates a moment then extends the six handling tentacles he has left.
Kriller fumbles as two tentacles fail to connect, then settles for gripping wrists with them, instead.
Emmet makes sure to include the patient in the calm optimism to minimize any reaction of dismay or revulsion.
Kriller thinks it feels ~~ weird ~~, and a bit as if he's doing something forbidden, like grabbing a Gen.
Coras is surprised that the Sime hasn't thrown him across the room.
Coras decides to try. And pushes back a slowly dawning hope that this time it might work.
Coras: By the way, what is your name?
Kriller: Kriller. Kriller the lady-killer.
Kriller winks.
Coras thinks that at least he should know who he may be murdering
Kriller winces as the movement jars his sore head.
Coras: Well, pleased to meet you Kriller. If you don't mind I would like to make a full five point contact.
Kriller: Sure, sure.
Kriller 's breath is at least proof.
Carbonne finds his whirling head steadied by the calm ambient.
Coras is still not believing that he is working. It takes a second to pull himself in to channeling mode. He has been in Secondary dormancy for months. The stench of his intended vict, er patient doesn't help much.
Carbonne cranks his eyelids open a slit.
Coras extends his laterals to make contact with Kriller's
Coras: Now if you will contact me I'll see what I can do about that headache.
Kriller extends his own laterals to meet them, automatically zlinning deeply.
Coras hesitates as Kriller zlins him.
Kriller screams, and tries to jerk his tentacles free.
Emmet: ~~CALM~~
Kriller: ~~~ abject horror ~~~
Coras tightens down instinctively with the tentacles he has left.
Kriller: Noooooooo!!!
Kriller augments, hangover forgotten in his desperation to get loose.
Coras cast about desperately to do something to calm Kriller before he kills them both.
Emmet: ~~sedative effect focused on Kriller~~
Kriller's two unentwined, and thus unrestrained, handling tentacles scrabble for leverage.
Coras release Kriller trying to do as little damage as he can.
Coras is sweating and panting as he stumbles backward.
Emmet supports Coras
Kriller practically levitates backwards until his hits the wall to the "cell", and curls up in a ball, whimpering.
Coras: [looks at Emmet] Please help him.
Kriller counts his tentacles over and over, to make sure that they weren't really amputated.
Emmet blankets the room with serenity.
Kriller gradually uncurls, and inspects his tentacles more calmly.
Coras sits down shaking badly inside and out.
Kriller: I felt... I felt them disappear. Just like his.
Coras: I'm sorry Kriller. I should have known better than to try.
Emmet contemplates the disastrous results of his attempts to boost Coras' confidence.
Emmet: Hmmm....
Coras: [To Emmet] I'm sorry I let you talk me into trying that.
Emmet: Well, I see how that could be a problem.
Coras looks at the Donor as if he has suddenly sprouted a second head.
Coras: A problem?!? That was a disaster!
Kriller emphatically ~~ agrees ~~
Emmet's Tecton training is too perfect for him ever to consider anything a disaster.
Emmet: I agree it was unpleasant, but no harm was done, and the experiment was worth trying.
Coras: Look, you rank me but I am not doing that again. So don't even ask!
Emmet: Still, you might consider working with the Gens.
Coras: Doing what?!
Emmet: Healing.
Emmet: And donations.
Coras: I will not!....
Coras considers for a moment remembering the unintended joke.
Emmet: Well, just trying to explore ways to qualify you for Gen transfer.
Emmet: I understand you are good at mathematics.
Coras: Yes I enjoy playing with numbers.
Emmet: Our office could use the services of someone with that ability.
Emmet: We have thousands of indigent Gens and Simes wandering around the countryside here.
Coras: Sure, I will be lucid for another week or so.
Emmet: We are trying to get an accurate count, and set up the selyn management records.
Coras gives up the hope of channeling again.
Coras: If it will keep me out of the company of drunks for a week I'll do it.
Emmet: Excellent.
Emmet: You can move into the Tecton barracks tonight, if you are willing to start in the morning.
Coras: I won't be much good for more than eight days. Then you're going to have to lock me up again. I can't vouch for my control for to much after that.
Emmet: Well, at least you can serve Humanity up until the end.
Coras: But yes please let me out of here. Yeah, for all the good it will do.
Emmet: Now, if at any time during the week, you should see fit to work a shift in the Sime Center....
Coras is thinking anything to get away from his cellmates.
Emmet: Then perhaps a Gen could still be found for you.
Coras wonders what part of that little scene didn't penetrate that thick Gen skull.
Emmet: Or if, for instance, while you are taking the census, you should encounter a berserker who is too far into attrition to care where his selyn is coming from....
Emmet: Or a Gen who requires healing and is unconscious....
Coras just shakes his head and gives up.
Coras: As you say, if.
Emmet: Life is full of opportunities.
Emmet: Of course, once you are dead, that ceases to be the case.
Coras: I will do what I can for as long as I can.
Coras zlins Emmet very hard. Still can't tell if he is making jokes at his expense.
Emmet zlins completely in earnest, but his control is impeccable.