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Carcosa, pt. 2
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. CARCOSA
You Are Still Here.
Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?
You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.
The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.
You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!
Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.
The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.
Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.
And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!
Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.
Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!
Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!
Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.
You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!
You still jamming to that Carcosa playlist?
You Are Still Here.
Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?
You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.
The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.
You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!
Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.
Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.
And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!
Notes:
1. The drinks are all era-appropriate - you’re not getting Redbull with vodka here - and even if your character has non-human physiology they will work the same as they would on a baseline human. That’s right, your magic or your healing-factor or your vampire blood is no match for these Gin Rickeys!
2. If Curly’s does get raided while you’re there, you can run and hide or choose to engage with the police, who are armed and not too shy about opening fire if you go on the offensive. As with the rest of the regular residents of Carcosa, the officers are human and can be killed. Killing them may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. (Is it beneficial to personal growth to kill in order to save someone else, for example? You tell me!)
3. Did you want a pet from the front of the building? Well, just remember that baby turtles and alligators might SEEM like a good idea, but they grow up! Also any animal you take will not travel with you to the next island. So sorry.
Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.
Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?
Notes:
1. You’re pretty sick of this stupid sigil, aren’t you? In fact, you consider yourself QUITE the detective and have been searching after its meaning! Or maybe you played Call of Cthulhu a lot in college, you nerd!
Painting the sigil on the wall will cause you to feel disoriented and paranoid until you leave the white room. From that point on you can discover a copy of a play entitled The King In Yellow anywhere in the city you choose. Reading the first act of the play has no effect on you, however if you choose to read beyond the first line of the second act you will spend the rest of the month suffering from periodic hallucinations, often of a tall man in a pallid mask.
2. While there is no compulsion to paint, choosing to work out any of your character’s issues through art therapy can be reflected in your Scrywatch colour if it is significant enough.
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!
Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.
You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!
Notes:
1. As was stated in the first prompt, the regular residents of Carcosa are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. Any weapons you find are era-appropriate.
2. You can break out of jail if you’re resourceful enough.
3. The underground doctors aren’t working in a real hospital for a reason. In fact, some of them might be less doctors and more, well. Vets.
Cells
The vest. It contrasts well with the shirt, both in design and color, and allows you to display both to good advantage and in an elegant manner. The pullover will cover most of the shirt, hiding the reason you presumably chose it in the first place.
On the other hand... [Connor taps his lip thoughtfully, circling Kit and stepping back to get the full picture.] If you're wishing to make an impression with a quick flash of color and a casual demeanor, the pullover would be the better choice.
[Another moment of contemplation, then:]
If you feel a chill, the pullover is also the more logical choice, but from a purely objective point of view, the vest is the better one.
android buddy!!!
[And on point, too, as assessments go. A wisp of a smile surfaces at Connor's guess as to why he's kept long sleeves, following Connor as he tracks the other's progress. Such attention on his person from a stranger; he ought to be flattered, even from a purely objective standpoint. Mostly, though, he's just glad to feel on the verge of presentable. He wants to explore more of the inner city today, and to that end, had wanted to rekindle some of his sharp, conscious sense of style.
The circling critique has the added effect of giving him a clear view in return, and there comes a point when the Connor's peculiarly adorned doublet (jacket, he's been told) and accent stop being the preeminent quirks about him. They must make space for the small circle of light at his temple to rise to the top of the list.
Well, now.
He picks up the moment of contemplation, lets it run another beat or two, scrutinizing Connor as much as he's being scrutinized.]
That's just the kind of reviewal I was looking for. And if I were to, say, visit what they call the cinema, does the taste run casual or formal?
human buddy!!!
[But social integration with humans is. Or used to be, according to his programming. Since his deviation he's not so sure, but this person seems happy enough with his initial answer.
He doesn't mind the returned inspection, used to the attention from humans. If it wasn't because he was the Deviant Hunter, it was because he'd become one of the leaders of the Revolution. It's all the same to him. If he notices that Kit has noted his LED, he makes no mention of it.]
I'm happy to oblige. [He takes only an instant to consult his databanks; he's never been to a cinema before.] According to my information, the taste is decidedly casual. Oh. I guess that would mean the pullover, wouldn't it?
ew hdu no hoomans here
Fashion is the small puzzle he'd initially set for himself to at the square one of pursuit of bigger and more cosmological puzzles, but he finds himself already on the brink of another one, the clothing options in his hand fading to the background.]
Nor is it mine. Not this century's, at least. But if this is the style befitting the time, then casual it will be. [There's plenty to be curious about as to to the source of his second opinion, and the ever-so-slight pause before the man delivers said opinion--in as staunchly academic a tone as one can have.] One more question: what is that, exactly? There.
[No need to clarify where there might be; he's stayed trained on Connor's temple all while speaking. He's come to the conclusion it's a source of an illumination, but... attached. Boggling.]
he looks hooman, he acts hooman, he is hooman. connor isn't though :P
[Connor reaches up to brush his fingers over the ring of light, with a slight tilt of his head and looking plainly at Kit.]
It is an LED- a light emitting diode. It is an external feedback biocomponent that lights up in different colors- blue, yellow or red -according to an android's mental processes and overall condition. It also functions as an android identifier to distinguish us from humans, in accordance with the American Androids Act of 2029.
[Because Kit will surely understand all of that, won't he?]
[insert 10000 hours of philosophical debate here]
... To distinguish you from human?
[In spite of being no more human than the man in front of him, he has no color-changing LED to denote when his mental processes are all in a buzz; what light he does have is in his eyes--burning interest as realization sets in, and only growing more intense, the next head-to-toe inspection aimed back at Connor taking him in with renewed attention to the details.
Had he not already met a timespinning witch from 2018 and then unexpectedly spun off into the empyreal unknown himself, he might've been in for a double dose of surprise contemplating the march of time. The dram is plenty strong just considering the changes that have gone on within. Before, he'd fought for so much as a firm year, Matthew determined to keep events concealed within a cloud of vaguery, no doubt to avoid just this very thing: the gears of Kit's mind, given a scrap of information to work with, beginning to furiously turn, grinding apart the unfamiliar words to get at the kernels within. 2029. Even further ahead.]
That would make it 438 years between us, exactly, give or take a calendar shift here and there. [God, and that's not even the most momentous part. He takes a step closer, absently folding the tops over his arm--the better to study Connor's face and all the minuscule imperfections of the "human" features that had convincingly fooled him at first glance.] Obviously much has changed. If I am to understand you correctly, you mean to say you, too, are simulating a human appearance?
👍
Yes. In accordance with the American Androids Act of 2029?
[This time it's phrased as a question, just to make sure Kit gets it? But if he's unfamiliar with even the concept of mechanical men, then maybe he's farther back in time than Connor thought. He does note the renewed interest and the shrewd look in Kit's eyes as he's being studied for a second time, but once again, he tolerates the close inspection. There's something odd about this man, something different, and while it doesn't make Connor uncomfortable it does make him more aware, his sensors on high alert as what information he can ascertain without access to Cyberlife's servers begins to scroll down his HUD.]
If you're counting back from 2029, then I'll correct you. When I was brought here it early November, 2038. It would be 447 years if your calculations are correct.
[A calendar shift, something Connor hadn't given any thought to. Had there been any between 1591 and 2038? The answer is instantaneous; 1752, with the change from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar. Is it worth mentioning to someone who wouldn't normally live to see it? Connor stares back at him as Kit's gaze shifts to his face, his eyes alive and intelligent, his nostrils flaring minutely with each intake of unnecessary breath. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly at Kit's choice of words. He no doubt would have already known Kit wasn't human had he not been deviant, with access to any sort of internet.]
I- you're not human?
no subject
What miracles will Matthew's son or daughter lay eyes on in the age of science? Could he be looking at one of them? The culmination of not just mining the natural world of its secrets, but overcoming it? Rewriting and replicating it? In his time and place, the world is captivated by what clever artificers can make of machines. Like with alchemy, nearly half a millennia of cleverness must have only grown what was once a seed of a dream.]
What you are is far more interesting. [That is to say, how the fellow distinguishes him as other isn't half so interesting as why Kit hadn't in the reverse.] The way we would use "android" is as a simulacrum, that much follows. But to that which is not living. Automatons.
[It's not phrased as a question, but it is one all the same. He searches Connor's eyes which betray neither a daemonic sheen, a telltale icy touch, nor the faint tingle of power, the degree of his scrutiny probably a step beyond modest propriety.
So if he isn't human and doesn't belong to one of the creatures, does this man mean to say those eyes are hiding something other than flesh and blood?]
no subject
And as such, Connor often forgets that someone who isn't used to the prevalence of androids in their everyday lives may indeed see someone like him as extraordinary. He visibly hesitates, because he's still very not used to thinking of himself in such terms as alive.]
It...was only very recently that androids in my world began to think of themselves as alive, and to demand that humans also see them as such. [His eyes had dropped to the level of Kit's chest, but drawing himself up he lifts them to look at Kit squarely again.] It has only been very recently that I began to think so too.
[No flesh, but Thirium-310 was a Cyberlife android's equivalent to human blood. And although Connor's eyes were biocomponents and his brain a processor, were they really all that different to their organic counterparts? Did his eyes look any less interested because they were plastic and circuitry? Did his personality seem any less amiable because the mind behind it was composed of chips and wires?]
no subject
Because he can see it. He can see the outline of the path Connor's creator would have to travel through the philosophical switchbacks and into the uncanny valley and out the other side, and it is brilliant, if true. And the possibilities rival any that might be found in the Book of Mysteries.
Are you? He smiles at Connor, a small and foreign gesture in this place. It threatens to outgrow its confines with the delight of the unasked question. Are you alive?]
May I?
[He holds a hand out as inviting a belated shake. Enthrallment has the best of him; it's impossible to not want to touch, to feel the texture of Connor's skin for himself. Although he can boast laying his eyes on a dizzying number of miracles himself thanks to the island, none have struck him with the divide between what is and what could be--will be--so acutely.]
no subject
Less than a week ago, Connor would have adamantly insisted that he wasn't alive, and it wouldn't have raised any doubts or questions for him. In the short time he's been on these islands, his existential crisis had yet to abate. Short answer, yes, he's pretty sure he's alive. Long answer? It's complicated.]
What? Oh. Of course.
[Connor's eyes had belatedly followed Kit's hand, but he catches up and extends his hand for Kit to shake, and doing that reminds him abruptly that they hadn't introduced themselves. Connor's hand is only slightly cooler in Kit's grip than a normal human's would be, and if he hadn't known better, Kit could easily assume that the synthetic polymer that made up Connor's skin was real flesh. He doubts that Kit would be able to tell the difference even under visual scrutiny. Connor has pores and hair, blemishes and imperfections that Cyberlife's engineers designed with such a level of care that it was nearly impossible to distinguish him at first, second, even third glance from a flesh and blood human. Perfectly designed imperfections, made possible thanks twenty years of continued innovations to Kamski's initial genius.]
My name is Connor.
no subject
Warmer than a wearh. The distinction sticks with him because he'd come to learn about Matthew just like this once, long ago. Questioning. Studying. Taking his hand when offered. Tentatively at first, faced with one of their species up close for the very first time, and then more avidly when his throat remained whole and untorn. And all the while Matthew had indulged him, patient. Smiling in that little knowing way when he marked the long silences between heartbeats in his wrist and had startled to watch him heal from a cut for the first time.
He remembers that the most--not his desire to see, but Matthew's willingness to share and be seen. Faced with each new discovery, his first instinct is still to turn around and share it with Matthew... and each time, he remembers. The past is distant for Connor but fresh for him.
He shakes it off. It doesn't detract from the momentousness of the discovery in the here and now. Turning the other's hand, he feathers the pads of two fingers against his inner wrist, looking up from his study with a smile of genuine disbelief.]
You certainly seem alive, Connor. How is it you could be the likes of an automaton?
[The definition of lifelike scarcely seems enough to contain the mere conceit of him.]
Christopher Marlowe. [And if they are to each embody the image of men... He switches his grip to shake Connor's hand properly, as it is done in Carcosa's decade.] Kit.
no subject
Kit won't feel a heartbeat beneath his fingers that are poised on Connor's wrist, but he will feel a very faint swoosh as the thirium is pushed along through Connor's artificial veins. Connor returns his smile, anticipating Kit's questions.]
I can't pretend to know or completely understand Cyberlife's methods for creating such lifelike androids. I know that Elijah Kamski, with the help of his mentor Amanda Stern, worked long hours- years -writing the coding required to make an android not only perform tasks, but to think.
[Only to be caged behind a wall of programming that kept them from thinking freely.]
But other technicians took that code and tweaked it, improved on it, adding some, trimming some, designing different models of androids to perform different tasks. Still others were responsible for creating an android's synthetic polymer skin, our eyes, the biocomponents that act as our organs, the thirium that acts as our blood. And now that we are free to think for ourselves and to feel the emotions that we were always capable of feeling- is there really that much difference between what I am and what a humans is?
[If only more people felt the way that Kit seems to.]
Kit. [Connor shakes his hand firmly, his smile growing wider.] It's nice to meet you. There are all number of marvels here, aren't there?
and the latest backtag goes to meeeee
[Shamelessly, he thinks what a shame to let Connor go. He's never encountered synthetic polymer outside of the islands to wholly grasp how a different might present--but the wonder lies in the similarity. The mimicry. The ability to pass. Connor's skin feels like skin, as much as his own.
The passing touch only parches rather than slakes. But a machine that can engage in intelligent conversation surely understand decorum--and so Kit gives ground to it, reluctantly unfolding his fingers and releasing him so as not to hang on like an avid admirer.]
I do not know. [Connor presents so many alleys to chase down; he chooses the question as a starting point.] You would have to show me before I may answer.
[Marvels, indeed. If only so many didn't need to seed in the death and decay of his present to bloom in the future. Agreement leaves a bittersweet aftertaste.]
Of that you're right.
I will backtag to infinity and beyond!
[Connor isn't bothered by Kit's continued touch, as he understands that some humans haven't experienced much about the artificial beings that are Cyberlife androids. Especially some humans who are from hundreds of years in his past. He won't refuse to take his arm back, however he continues to study him, just as curious about Kit as he is about Connor.]
What would you like to see?
[His question is guileless and innocent, genuine in its inquisitiveness.]
But you- I find you to be one of those marvels I'm talking about. What you've told me so far about who you are, the fact that you lived so many years before my time- I find that wondrous and amazing. There are other people here I've met who may not even be from Earth, with life stories that I can't possibly imagine or comprehend. This place may be a prison of sorts, but at least it's gilded for us.
🙏 bless u
Tell that to a man of God, any god, and see what he has to say on the matter. [But then the cause of the bright spark of interest in his eyes asks what he would like to see. In return, he smiles around the one word that best sums it up:] Everything.
[Only everything, of course. Not such an untenable ask, is it? Coming from him, the demand is almost to be expected.
He might've been charmed by the reciprocated interest in his age, as the boys had been with Diana's incessant, wide-eyed curiosity, if his ego wasn't still sporting the bruises from her passage. The fool's gold has chipped off the feeling of possibility in his century. Here, there--whether he stays or returns, he may be out of time with Matthew. Kit's heart labors to muster the same enthusiasm evident in Connor's words. Even in this, the designed imitation surpasses the birthed one.]
A gilded prison? [His melancholic thoughts don't fail to stopper the wry observation.] A soulful turn of phrase for a man made of components. Along with the convergence of times and places, you're not the only brought to these islands who wears a human appearance but was something other. Just the first of your kind I've met. What is humanity beyond an idea?
[Connor's guess had been right before; when he, himself, is proof more than one type of creature walks the earth, he isn't in a position to deny room for more. Especially not here, not now, in the shadow of other worlds and other gods.]
no subject
I don't think a human-contrived god has anything to do with it. My creator thought to fashion himself a living god, but he has the same foibles as any other man. Androids began sharing a belief in a god that they fashioned for themselves, one they believed would save them, but I never understood the appeal. Still, androids and humans are very similar in many ways, so maybe one day they will come to share their gods as well.
[He blinks, surprised at Kit's insistent utterance.]
Everything? Do you have any suggestions as to where I might start with your request?
[He stands still, with the kind of patience only an android can possess, but he's also a deviant now, and after a few moments he can't help fidgeting, reaching for the coin he keeps in his pocket and starting to roll it around and over his knuckles.]
What are any of us beyond an idea? At least I can look to my own blueprints.
[There's a certain small comfort in that, as strange as it may seem. Unlike most others here, he knows his origins, why and how he was constructed. There are no existential question about his creation, and God had nothing to do with it.]
no subject
If there is a God, surely His greatest lark was forging history in the shape of a perfect circle. Connor delights.]
Not one of the faithful, I see. Best not to let this Ancient's guardians overhear your thoughts on flawed divinity... though I wonder what sort of peace of mind that must bring. Being able to look it in the eye and see a limit to the infinite.
[He hums a thoughtful note as he watches Connor retrieve his coin and set it moving, musing aloud without need of a reply. He ought to try and moderate his wondering, slow down and not lead the android down these intellectual circles so soon after acquainting, shouldn't he. Maybe something to reserve for another time. A longer, deeper exploration of the inside of the android's mind.
To the matter of what would satisfy his curiosity, he turns to the surface level.]
You're right. If you didn't indicate it, there hardly seems a difference between you and any man to someone not looking for it. What might you have done to persuade me if I'd said I was a skeptic? How else does one like you differ?