a_gentle_boy | Thirtieth PSI

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Thirtieth PSI

[action, dated back a few days]
[He'd heard from Rin that both Roshian and Giriko had gone in a single night. Though he wasn't very fond of them himself, he remembered how distraught Luke had been for those few weeks when his 'mother' had been droned, and how happy he'd been to have her back. The two of them . . . They were obviously important to his friend.

He isn't surprised when he rings the doorbell to be greeted by Roshian's smiling face. She pats him on the head. 'Luke was upstairs.' Evidently, she still remembered that they were friends. They were the same age, after all, in the same classes. And if he thought about it . . . Luke was the first real friend he'd made here and still his closest. He nods to the drone, quickly hurrying up, a jigsaw puzzle tucked underneath his arm, a small box of chocolate held in his hands. If Luke felt even half as badly as he had when the Netherlands had gone, or Margot . . .

But the moment he walks through the bedroom door to be greeted, his face falls. No cap. Nothing blue. No trace of that interesting way of speaking Luke had. Around the room . . . No Gizmo. No home pictures. And now that he thinks about it . . . no funny robot on the front lawn.

It is suddenly very difficult to swallow. He carefully walks to the desk, setting his presents down, barely capable of doing so without trembling. His hands . . . Lucas shoves them into his pockets quickly. As he backs away, a small box set atop the desk catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. "For Lucas". Turning to the drone boy to ask in a casual manner, he is greeted with mild surprise. If it had his name on it, certainly, it was for him. Once again, his shaking hands can hardly grasp ahold of the object, but he manages it in the end. And when he turns to leave, he doesn't even apologize as he accidentally sweeps a stack of books off the desk.

He stumbles down the steps and out the front door, clutching the box to his chest. The heaving of his chest as he runs . . . He can pretend that it is because of the exertion that his chest has become so tight. Not because it has become so hard to breathe. Not because of the tears that flow, unwanted, from his eyes.

. . . Goodbye, Luke. May you solve every puzzle that arises to challenge you.]

1. Alone in the park, Lucas finds the most isolated bench he possibly can and eases into it, still holding the box to his chest. He has an inkling of what's inside. The same reason he had shown Luke where he kept his box . . . Now, though, he simply sits. And allows himself, after a few futile moments, to cry softly.

2. He has calmed down enough to go through the things that had been left to him. Just as with the Netherlands, just as he himself did, Luke had kept notes. Lucas dries his tears, looking through each piece of information carefully. It's hard for him to understand right now, but . . . He will go through everything again when he's in a less harried state of mind. The Westport notes.

3. It had been too late for Luke. But it didn't have to be that way for anyone else. Not if he hurried up with this. Lucas is too shy to take pictures of people, but late into the afternoon, he is in the park with an ancient, half-broken camera, practicing taking pictures of trees and squirrels and snowdrifts . . .

((A bit deliberately less accessible than the usual entry, so I'm going to ask that no more than 3-4 people respond to the first prompt. Thanks.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[[That simple acceptance, when he calls her mister automatically, actually brings a very fragile smile to her face. It isn't at all the grinning, blustery mask she wears where she is the loudest person ever and never unhappy about anything. In fact, it looks like she might be close to tears herself just from that word. It's so rare that people understand so automatically.]]

I know that it's important to keep promises, and you should never break them just because it's inconvenient to keep them. But discretion is the better part of valour, you know. It's...all right to break a promise if it's going to hurt you more than the good it will do to keep it. What's this promise about, then?

[Lucas's smile is melancholy as he looks downwards at his knees.]

You see . . . Once, I cried and I cried and I cried . . . So much that I let something terrible happen because I was too busy crying. So after that, I promised myself I wouldn't cry if there were things that had to be done.

[[Theta takes a breath in and holds it for a moment, feeling spectacularly awkward. Then she slowly moves her hand down to pat his shoulder.]]

That's a very logical promise. But as you said, he's back home and happy, so this time there isn't anything to be done.

Unless you want to work on getting everyone out of here. If we can find the way free...my Darling and I are looking to find a way out of here that will let us stay together, perhaps we will be able to keep this place open and functioning as a hub that you might pass through and visit him often.

Would you feel better to have the work to do?

[The man doesn't know, of course, how much work he's already assigned himself. The Westport notes, the scrapbook, getting close to Jane Smith, finding a time to talk to the Postman . . . But Lucas is aware that he is being spoken to like a young child - Who could blame this person, after catching him like this? That, too, was a part of the reason he was loathe to be caught crying. It was too much to expect that people would be aware of how much he had endured already in his brief life.

Whatever work he would want to be done, though . . . Lucas had to honor the Netherlands's work first.]

That would be the best thing. It would be a great solution to all of this, wouldn't it . . . ?

But that's what I mean, mister. Plans to get everyone out, to learn more about this town. That's what I have to do.

[[Oh ho...that was surprising to see. She watched him quietly for a moment, then nodded her head. When she speaks up again, her tone is much less like she's speaking to a child, and much closer to as though she is speaking to an equal.]]

It's going to take a lot of work. But if you've got an idea, I'd be more than happy to give you a hand with it. Has your "family" gotten an oxygen generator yet? I want to get those passed out in case we have another hazmat attack.

[Lucas's eyes widen momentarily at the words 'oxygen generator' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WidSXfZjUFQ) for some inexplicable reason before the more rational part of his brain remembers that no one else would even associate merman statues with that sort of thing.]

Do you mean like an oxygen mask? That sounds useful, but I hadn't heard about it. Did you regain them from home?

I'm an ergaleomancer. It's my duty to build devices for the people. It's not a mask, but rather a freestanding unit to put inside the house, merely wind it up and let it work, and it will pull any impurities out of the air, such as that poison gas the hazmats spew, and dispense clean air and oxygen from the vents at the bottom.

I've been making them from parts from the cars here, and I've also started making gas masks to pass out.

[[She smiles cheerily, utterly proud of herself. Of course, her devices haven't been tested against actual hazmat men...or at all. Although she is a very skilled inventor and her machines might well filter out even a significant amount of air pollution...somehow that probably doesn't mean much against the hazmats.]]

I made an announcement concerning them, but...it seems not many people at all heard it...

[Lucas begins to look up at him, turns to wipe the last of the tears away from his eyes, then smiles.]

That's really impressive. I . . . don't know what word you said, but it sounds like you're an inventor. It's good of you to put your time into trying to make things like that . . .

[[She smiles right back at him, glad to see him perking up.]]

That's part of it. It's more than that, but...it's a lot of words and a lot of a culture you didn't grow up in, and that's fine. But...ergaleomancers have a duty to society to step up and assist their fellow man. This is hardly England, but...I can extend that to all the people trapped here.

E-England?

[Lucas catches on that for a moment. That's where Luke was from. But he doesn't want to derail their conversation back into the source of his tears, so he quickly moves on.]

That's a duty that everyone shares, I think. It's just that . . . I guess, not everyone is willing to do it.

My father is the High Ergaleomancer to the Queen...it's a duty I've had put at the head of my endeavours since I was quite young. It...would be strange to abandon it.

[[And yet she'd come so close while she was here in Mayfield. This conversation was helping her far more than perhaps even this boy realised, and for that she was silently grateful.]]

To the Queen . . .

[He was 'Princess' Kumatora's best friend, but somehow, Queen seemed a lot more impressive.]

It sounds like your family is really important. But, you know . . . Even if that's so, you don't have to put too much pressure on yourself, either. I mean, I don't know if you do, but . . . that was something someone had to tell me.

[[Theta smiled when he was obviously impressed. She missed having a reputation, and she wasn't such an innocent and nice person that she didn't like having her ego stroked in such a way. Nonetheless, she shook her head at his gentle advice.]]

No, it's not so much pressure that I can't stand it. Man is meant to put himself under some amount of pressure, though, or else he will never learn to excel.

That's true. And sometimes the pressure is put on for you.

[Lucas could think of few people who knew that better than himself.]

I think that's how it is here, too. If Mayfield weren't so awful, people wouldn't work as hard to try to get out.

That's it! That's it exactly. If man did not have goals to impose upon himself, he would never discover the lengths to which he can reach. Man may not be meant for the power of God, but in so reaching for such a lofty goal, he will find his hand in places he never even dreamed!

Er.

[Lucas is taken aback momentarily by the fervor with which Elizabetheta speaks, but after a few moments, he smiles a little.]

Right. You never know what you can do if you never try. So . . . We all have to try as hard as we can to fight against this place.

[[Yes, Theta does rather take any opportunity to wax poetic and ham it up terribly. One of these days, someone ought to tell her to stick a sock in it, but if Lucas is polite enough to listen, it'll be hard to get her to stay quiet. She nods, though, smiling cheerily for him.]]

Have you a copy of the list of anomalies this town has thrown at us? I have a list that was originally written by Germany, as well as my own notes where his left off, if you need one.

I've been keeping my own notes as well. I don't have anything before last February, though . . .

My notes go back a bit further than that. I'd be happy to show them to you, if you'd share with me anything that you have.

[Lucas pauses for a moment and the box that he had held in his lap the whole time is suddenly remembered.]

Um.

[He slowly opens up the top. He hadn't even looked at it himself yet . . . ]

In here. This is everything Luke and I found in Westport that time.

[[Theta thinks for a moment, thinking about the phonecall she'd once listened to.]]

You...read all this over the phone, didn't you? I copied down every word.

I have a list of the strange occurrences going back nearly two years, and a bit of information about Maipole.

[Lucas shakes his head.]

That was Luke. I told him some of it, but it was Luke who was reading it to everyone.

[And that thought is eliciting those emotions again, so Lucas jumps to the different topic after a moment or two of quiet.]

This person you said you got the information from . . . How long has he been here?

Ah, I believe actually it was a collaborative effort of note taking from multiple sources. But it's serviceable enough.

[[She doesn't miss how he goes quiet and sad, but that's precisely why she doesn't dwell on it, either.]]

I see. That's probably the best way . . . I'm not sure who's been here the longest, but they probably have a lot of things they could tell the rest of us.

I'd like to know if anyone's figured out anything about the Russian man. Mr. Sergei.

Ah....my....friends and I were there when he was taken. [[She doesn't actually seem that traumatised about her death, which had played out on the phones, but she does seem rather angry about the whole incident.]]

I've been over it so many times, but I wouldn't say I figured out anything. I'll tell you what I know, if you like.

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