a_gentle_boy | Twenty-Ninth PSI

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[The days of January have passed relatively uneventfully for Lucas. He's had a lot to think about, and a lot to consider. For now, though, each time passes much like the rest, and he will take happiness in whatever peace he can get. His routine is fairly straightforward.

1: Every morning, early morning, Lucas gets on his tea table and delivers his paper. He's still getting used to the hang of it, though. Maybe he'll accidentally smash it into your door, at which point, he'll hurriedly get off to check to see if he damaged anything. Most of the time, he hasn't.
2: After school, he practices piano alone in the music room. By this point, he can be eavesdropped upon without anyone wanting to forbid him from ever touching an instrument again. The songs he plays are strangely melancholy.
3: In his free time, he sits in the park or in his house and practices his sketching. Most of the time, he's drawing his friends, so perhaps you'll run across him drawing you.]

[voice]
[A phone call is broadcast to everyone later that night.]

Hello? A-Ah. This is Lucas.

I've been thinking a lot lately, and there's something that's been on my mind. I guess I want to ask . . . How long has this town been here? How long have people come in and out? Does anyone really know? But what's more important is . . . does anyone really remember everyone who's been here?

When people get droned, we think they've gone home, right? It's the hope we have, and a lot of the times it's true, but can we really be sure that it's everyone? Sergei -- the Russian man. He, um. Didn't he say that they were in a lot of pain? That some people who were droned . . . that they were still inside. If that's so, then . . . then we can't just forget about them, right? Even if one person is still here as a drone, we can't forget about them. And either way, it's terrible to forget the people you've become friends with at all. To forget about the people who've come to Mayfield and who've gone.

............. I know I've already started to.

Does anyone think we should maybe start keeping track? Just . . . something so that the people who come here won't ever be forgotten. Maybe even signatures. So if you do start to forget, then you can look back and see everyone's name and remember. Small things like . . . Miss Margot, and how she was always caring for her sister. Fuuko and how much she loved starfish. Mr. Zero, and how fun his gym classes were.

It might be a bad idea. Or too much work. But . . . Well. I guess if you don't want to talk about that, maybe we can just share stories of people who've been here and how important they were to us. I'd love to hear that kind of thing.

[Please specify 1, 2, 3, or voice. Although the actions are really just default Lucas interactions if your character has no interest in this topic.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Even if that's so . . . just for me, then. I want to remember.

Ah. I don't know if anyone's willing to help with something like this yet or what form it will take. But I don't think anyone will mind if you don't want to associate yourself.

[He is somewhat surprised. Would he press Pokey to admit that he had friends? Yes. But now wasn't the time.]

Good.

[And his tone changes from icyness to cheerfulness. But a tense, strained one. Cheerfulness with teeth.]

So. Get any of what you wanted from our little conversation a week or two ago?

Probably as much as you got when I was Psycho Lad, i think.

[A pause, and then he just snorts.]

Fine. We're even then on this.

. . . I didn't actually mean to pry like that. I wanted to hear more about where you came from without actually having to ask . . . you.

[Lucas is vaguely apologetic.]

Oh.

[Pokey's voice goes light. Airy. Cheerful again, but instead of having teeth, just mocking.]

Oh, you didn't mean to pry, huh? Well I guess it's good you asked me as a little kid who didn't know what he was doing, because you certainly weren't prying then. Who knows! Maybe next time something will just brainwash me and I can just answer your friggin' questions fully and flat out!

[And Pokey is pretty clearly aggressively angry.]

I don't think you'd answer my questions accurately if that happened.

[If it was anyone else but Pokey, Lucas would apologize to death. He isn't inclined to be charitable after having been on the receiving end of the same treatment just a few months ago, though.]

I apologize. It wasn't fair to you.

[There are so many 'buts' he could add to that. But Lucas isn't the type to make excuses, even with Porky.]

I dunno. Guess it would depend on the brainwashing.

Yeah well wait what?

[And he just sputters for a moment. That's...that's not what you're supposed to do! He did the exact same friggin' thing to you just awhile back, what are you apologizing for? You have the right to, even he realizes that. Why the hell won't you fight him on this?]

You giant weeny. What's wrong with you?

You don't think you deserve an apology?

[This wasn't a part of some plan about forgiveness and love and blahblahblah but Lucas can see it going that way.

. . . He decides he'd better cut that off since even he's not in the mood to be preachy right now.]

That isn't what I meant. I meant that for someone who hates me, you'd think you'd friggin' stand up for yourself to me sometimes!

Do you want me to fight you? Or call you names? Or yell nasty things?

[Yes. Because if you do that, that's validation of everything he thinks and has been told of himself. And if he has that, that means he has a scapegoat when he inevitably does something cruel or stupid, and can transfer some of his guilt to that.

Commencing tantrum in 3....2....1...]

No. No no no you're not listening jerkface! I'm trying to understand why you don't when it would be what any person would want. It's a lie if you're going to say you don't want to.

If we all did what we wanted to do all the time, the world would be a pretty big mess, wouldn't it?

Nooooot really, since that's just about what everyone does anyway.

. . . You're very naive yourself if you think that.

[There's your insult, Porky. Have a hang-up.]

Twenty-Ninth PSI

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