revivalproject | It's just another day

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It's just another day

WHO: Drake and whoever happens to find him, despite his best efforts
WHERE: Cave/Research office/”Severe” subdivision
WHAT: Coping via avoidance and overworking
WHEN: Post-Event
WARNINGS: None as of yet

Off the prison bus

It hadn’t been the first time that Drake had felt helpless, but his time in the false reality had been one of few times he’d look back on and feel he’d been utterly useless. The entire time, he remembered having an underlying knowledge that everything was wrong, somehow. That his thoughts weren’t his own, but were reinforcing themselves with their own will.

At night, he dreamed of a standing pool of bright water, and during the day, strange letters and numbers, symbols, words and concepts popped into his conscious mind. He was constantly having flashbacks that weren’t his. And underlining it all was a feeling that he was supposed to be doing something much more important than approving cafeteria menus and developing a standardized curriculum. Something grander than the heroes. Bigger than the city. Vaster and more humbling than any petty human constructs, rituals, or squabbles between nations on Earth.

Now he knew what it was, and that he was separated from it, stranded with no way home. Fresh from emerging from the invasive and frightening effects of a complete memory stamp. Like everyone else still milling, confused, embarrassed, or disappointed, nearby.

Drake retreated to a nearby wall and stood against it like a mouse seeking safety and stayed still there for a long time, looking listless and shell shocked.

Research offices

So rather than do something healthy, like talk about it, he did what he always did when he didn’t want to think: he worked.

In the monastic silence of an old research lab, he sat in a corner on the floor with his knees drawn up in the twilit semi-darkness of emergency lighting, surrounded by clips and cables and scribbled notes about Agrii technology that he thought were important and complex enough that he might not be able to figure them out on his own if he gave up his current expertise. A few power and/or control crystals lay in a carefully arranged pattern beside him and his face was uplit from his tablet while he ran diagnostics and recalibrated various systems on the mobile probe he’d brought back from Coruscant. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was probably either very late or very early, judging by how hunger and exhaustion had come and, finding themselves ignored, gone away again.

Needless to say, he was not expecting anyone to find him.

Green Sector Residences

He would also attempt to explore the strange, fenced in complex nearby in an effort to find out if there was any usable equipment within. An armoury. Intact lab equipment. Any records indicating what it used to be. Or maybe just a room that looked comfortable and safe to inhabit.

From the outside, Drake might be seen trying to find a way through or over the fence, and if there isn’t already a hole or a gate, he isn’t above taking bolt cutters to it if he can find a pair.

From the inside, he could be observed by the unsteady waving of a flashlight as he makes his way through dim, cracking hallways, testing doors and elevators, trying water faucets and light switches, and hoping that the floor doesn’t collapse beneath him.

He probably should have put out a network post calling for help to scour the place; if nothing else, it would let everyone now where he was in case something happened to him. But he wasn’t always the most careful with his own safety.

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Drake looks awfully skeptical at that.

"Well that's not cryptic at all, is it?" He finally puts his tablet down. "You just happened across me in, as you say, an isolated area? Just out for an evening stroll, were you?"

He's absolutely not buying that this is a random encounter, and is starting to suspect that he was followed. He just can't work out why. At home, he was frequently sought out for some emergency or another, fix this, code that, find out why, figure it out, etcetera. But here....here, there seemed to be fewer planet threatening problems that a quick thinking scientist with the resources of the Royal Air Force could solve. There seemed to be less of everything, in fact.

"I'm sorry." Jon says. By this point that's almost an automatic response to being accused of acting cryptic.

"Indeed, I had no real reason to come around this place. I just... Felt drawn here." Which isn't a lie. And he shrugs. "I did use to stay in this building myself before moving into the old library."

Curious?

Drawn here?

Despite Jon having not said much at this point, everything he has said has only raised more questions for Drake's guarded and suspicious mind.

"Stay here? D'you mean, as in...live here?" He asks with a raised eyebrow and open confusion before taking a short, pointless glance around the room, as if perhaps he missed the bedroom and kitchenette. "In an old research and development building?"

Jon shakes his head "Living is hardly a word I would use. I mainly stored some items in here." A shrug. "It seemed like a suitable place for me at the time..." A dark little space for him to hide away in. Suitable for a monster like himself.

But this man seems remarkably normal.

"You are aware that the old hotel in the town center has perfectly usable rooms as well?"

Drake purses his lips and stares only just long enough to be only just shy of awkward.

"Right. Well. I happen to be doing some research and development," he gestures at the large, wheeled probe, "so. Seems as suitable a place as any, given I'm fairly sure that was its purpose." He hadn't explored thoroughly yet, but when he did, he hoped to discover some usable diagnostic equipment, or even the means to build more complex and sensitive systems.

At the old hotel remark, he pulls one corner of his mouth back uncomfortably. "Yes, I've heard as much, thank you. And when's the last time a structural engineer's been 'round to do an inspection?"

The Archivist stays silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath and closes his eyes almost as if focusing to step over this man's tone and attitude. Which he possibly is.

When those faintly glowing eyes open again, they settle back on Drake. "The same time someone did an inspection on this building. If safety is your concern, staying there remains the more reasonable choice as there will be others around to actually notice the building collapsing."

He gives those words a moment to settle, then adds: "I'm Jonathan Sims. I work on the library - And I live there."

"Well at least this building's only half as many storeys...high...." He squinted in the semi-darkness. Were his eyes glowing? Or were they reflecting like the retinas of a predator? Or just catching the light in his glasses?

There was only one creature Drake knew of that made the eyes of a person glow, but it wasn't...quite like that.

"Drake Riley." He said slowly. "Doctor Drake Riley. I don't really live anywhere. But do tell me about the library; I was told that the Agrii never developed a writing system."

"No written language, indeed." Jon confirms. "The Agrii kept their records in smaller versions of those data points I assume you have already encountered. The ones that were in the library and the school, however, were destroyed. Every single one of them. None of the pieces were salvageable."

"For the most part the library is empty and partially inhabited by mothcats. What available records are presently there, be it in the shape of written or audio format, are information gathered and experiences made by those the Agrii have brought here."

Drake gives an almost imperceptible shudder when Jon mentions encountering the data points and (protectively?) clutches a notepad covered in illegible scribbling, countless complex equations, and most importantly, information about Agrii engineering.

He frowns when he hears that the library is mostly empty.

"Shame, that. How far back do those records go? I'm given to understand that there are still people here that were present when the Agrii left the planet. But that was...what a couple hundred years ago?"

Jon gives a small shrug. "Roughly a year. All these records were made by myself and I started when I first was brought here." He has gathered what statements he could from other people, but the majority are personal records of events and discoveries Jon has been aware of. He notices the defensive way Drake acts about his notepad, but doesn't comment on it.

"The ones that were present during the recording of the video I shared are no longer here. These records only exist on the Agrii ship."

"What ones are no longer here? The people, or the records? I've definitely been told there're still people here from that time, but no one's been able to tell me how they're still here, if indeed that video is over a hundred years old."

"Yes, there are people around from that earlier instance of the Atroma's show, but none of that particular episode. Or maybe even season. Lord knows how they are organizing these." Jon gives a little huff of irritation at Drake's questions. "I talked to some of those that have since left. Neither of them have been on this planet this entire time, obviously. But time is an aspect that means little to our captors. In case you didn't know: That version of Coruscant we were sent to was several hundred years in the past for those among our group that are actually familiar with the planet or even live on it. And as I already mentioned: These records only exist on the ship the Agrii are staying on."

Now, Drake is invested.

"That wasn't obvious, actually. I've known people who've lived for many hundreds of years, but not without outside intervention." Such as an alien symbiote keeping them alive, or technology meant to rejuvenate cells. "So do you know where they went between the times they were here? Or where they are now?"

Had they figured out how to go home?

"And no. I wasn't aware that the planet we visited was relatively hundreds of years younger to anyone who'd otherwise recognise it. D'you think that means anything? Did the Agrii choose that point in time to prevent deserters?"

At this point, Drake would have happily rolled up an office chair and offered a half eaten bag of Cheetos to continue this enlightening conversation, except that he had neither.

Jon sighs, shaking his head. "As far as I know they were sent back to their own worlds, not necessarily remembering the time they have spent away from it. The Agrii did have the technology to send us back on their ship, but it was literally removed from it while we were on it after rescuing them. No other ship was nearby and yet the device got replaced by an energy core we needed to figure out first before being able to get the ship moving again. The Agrii may no longer be the ones bringing people here. Ga Re, in fact, wanted to sent us all home."

He takes a step towards a nearby counter and lightly pokes at one of the pieces of whatever it is Drake is working on in here. "Coruscant was chosen because the Agrii hoped to find some clues there. The time may have been coincidental, but we did find that Holocron message. Not that that one has been any more reassuring."

This is precisely the kind of information Drake had been after, with varying degrees of success, and while he should probably be suspicious of its source, a stranger who'd just stumbled on him in this precise room in this precise building in this out-of-the-way district, he's too invested, now, scribbling shorthand notes on the back of one of the many papers strewn around on the floor.

"So you were on the ship, then? And someone pulled the old switcheroo on... Oh dear. So you mean that the Agrii no longer have the ability to retrieve or return people? Were you there, did you see what the transportation process looked like when the device was stolen and replaced with the core? How d'you know no other ships were nearby? Proximity sensors? And who figured out how to install and operate the energy core? I might like to compare notes if they're still here."

He taps his pencil on the floor with nervous energy, now seeming to be talking to himself since he's frowning down at his notes instead of looking at Jon.

"Ga Re. That's the uh. Commander of the fleet, so to speak. Why would he want to send everyone home? Have they given up the idea of restoring a planet that's, for all intents and purposes, uninhabitable to them?"

When Jon gently prods the device on the counter, Drake just keeps on without breaking pace or tone or even looking up, "Don't touch that, I don't know what it does yet."

Now he looks up.

"What holocron?"

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