Twenty-Ninth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

[action]
[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.]

Comments

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

Nowhere Islands, huh. I don't know if I'd like it if Japan was called Nowhere Island…

But it sounds like you were part of a pretty close-nit community. I bet you miss it.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I do.

[But it had been lost a long time before he had been brought to Mayfield. He misses what it had once been . . . ]

I guess it's funny for people who live in big worlds to think of, but . . . everyone was like a family member to me. It's too bad that you can't be friends with everyone in a world like yours.

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

I don't know if could be friends with everyone in the world, even if I had the time to meet them all.

[She hesitates for a second.]

Still, it would have been way harder a year ago. Practically my whole world was at war for a while, and there were entire countries and groups of people that hated each other on principal. But I'm lucky. There was someone who dedicated his life to making that change, and things are a lot more peaceful now.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you were able to see it change. But what does that mean? 'Hating each other on principal' . . . Just for no reason at all?

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

I'll give you an example. Let's say that you were from my world, and you were born in the Britannian Empire. That means that all your life you would have been taught by your parents and your teachers that the people the empire conquers--they called them the "numbers"--were inferior to you. Some people are able to break out of that kind of thinking, but most Britannians just lived their lives thinking that they were a superior kind of person, and that it was only natural to hate the numbers because they were a lesser people.

So, do you get what I'm saying? Hating someone on principal means you have that hate engrained into you. It's a pretty horrible thing.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . That's horrible.

[Ignoring that she had just said the same thing. It was. Lucas is indignant.]

I can't believe that anyone would think something like that -- Or worse, teach it. Being born in a certain place doesn't mean you're a better or worse person . . . ! Actually, I think you'd be worse if you thought that.

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

That's the problem. I started hating Britannians as much as they hated me because of how they acted, and the terrible things they did to my people.

But you can't hate the people. My friend--the man who changed the world--taught me that. Britannia itself was a system that turned people to hatred. It was the system that had to be rebuilt.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

It's good things are different for you now . . . I don't think I could live in a place like that. Did you have to fight very hard to achieve a better world?

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

We did.

We lost a lot on the way, too. But that's just the reality of what we were up against.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . Yeah. Sometimes, it has to happen. I wish it were possible that it wasn't necessary, but that's probably too much to ask.

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

I wish that, too. I really do.

But it's like you said. There's only so much you can ask from the world without giving something back.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[He pauses for a moment or two. If by 'give', she meant 'fighting through hordes of monsters, soldiers, and mechs', that was probably accurate.]

But what's important in the end is that you were able to change it. It's too bad you got brought here right after things finally got better . . .

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

I did have a few months to enjoy it. I would have been really depressed if I'd wound up here a day or so after it all ended.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

That's good. To have had a chance to relax in between two bad situations. This is probably a silly question, but . . . which one do you think was worse?

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

[She has to consider that.]

This. This is worse.

Even when things got bad at home, I knew what my role was. I knew how I could help. Here… it's hard not to feel a little useless sometimes.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I can see why. I wish there was more I could do, but . . . no one even knows what we're supposed to be doing. It's hard to live like that.

[radiant-will.livejournal.com]

Mhm.

But I can deal with it. No way am I ever giving up while I'm still trapped here. That's just not going to happen.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

We'll just keep on fighting until the end. Everyone feels the same way.