Welcome to the Big Apple. Life expectancy for a contractee is short and brutal, and most of the place has long since been carved up by different, often changing, groups. It's rather unfortunate, then, that you don't have any other options to get what you want, especially when you consider what you really are.
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Puella Magi Altera Factio
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June 8th: A Life Born out of Spite
RecurringExtra
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It was a cold, dark night in Perth.
The human year was 2009, in the sixth month of the year known as June, although the exact name varied based on language and culture. It was a primitive numerical scheme based originally on religious folklore before it became too entrenched to be properly replaced, and gradually replaced others instead. The fact that had even occurred, and they had not felt the need to attempt to correct it, highlighted the antiquated notions that dominated the lifeforms of this world. Sentimentality and attachment were rife and rampant, and none could properly understand what was required to ensure the continuation of the universe.
Of course, the lifeforms, self-designated as Homo sapiens sapiens, or more colloquially "humans" had no proper notion of the scale of reality that they lived in. They had the barest of understandings, that of the hypothetical extent that the universe stretched since its inception 13.7 billion years ago, but the scale itself was utterly incalculable to their minds. They could not so much as envision, let alone comprehend, the enormity of reality. They were not alone in such a thing, as most species that the Incubators encountered and harvested had many such issues of their own, but the specifics for each always remained as unique as they were confusing for the Collective to properly understand. Still, as fellow sapients, they deserved the barest amount of respect that all such creatures were owed, not that any seemed to ever be appreciative of the gesture.
"How… could you…"
"How could we what?" You asked, able to guess the likely question, albeit through pattern recognition more than any sort of emotional comprehension.
"How could you do… this!" The girl screamed, tears filling her eyes as she motioned around and confirmed your expectations. "You made them into monsters, and they didn't even know!"
"They agreed to the contract. It is their own fault for doing so without attempting to understand the entirety of the situation." You said with a nod of the small head of one of the current terminals you were possessing.
"You did this, and now you just fucking sit there smiling. Don't you fucking feel anything?" The girl hisses, as if such obscenity-filled rants were not an occurrence that had become almost routine for you. One of the few times that you had felt anything resembling surprise from the local species had been when one girl was not only accepting of her circumstances upon discovery, but curious about the specifics. If you had been capable of it, you likely would have felt some tiny measure of sadness when you had her grief seed returned to you years later, as she had proven to be a fascinating conversation partner.
"I am incapable of feeling such sensations. While I am intellectually aware of the concept that you term as "pity" I would not feel it applicable to this situation." You explain, knowing that the primitive would not be able to properly comprehend the situation, so guided by emotions rather than logic and rationality. It was always such a shame that so few ever understood the importance of the sacrifice they were making, but revealing such things tended not to go over well. It was odd how so many of them desired to be heroes, and yet they seemed to view their inevitable sacrifice as somehow not heroic in nature. This was in spite of it fitting the criteria for what they seemed to consider the "greater good." Truly, trying to rationalize such nonsense was an exercise in futility, and yet you could not help but continue to try.
"You sick..." She grunted out, before she paused, her breath heaving as she continued to pant. Such an inefficient usage of resources. "No, you know what? You said I had potential too, right?"
"That is correct." You say, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. You were incapable of doing anything less.
"Then... then how about this?" She all but whispers, licking her lips nervously. "I wish that you truly knew what it was like to be one of us, to be one of those humans you look down upon so much, and treat like cattle. How about that?" She hissed, a hate filled smile covering her face. "How's that for a wish, you fucking rat?"
Well now. A wish of spite against your kind was not unheard of. In fact, it had proven rather common in the grand scheme of things. Many such species would often take out their frustrations against their betters, rather than recognize that the responsibility for their own mistakes lay with themselves.
"Very well." You reply, to the girl's seeming confusion. You reached the terminal's manipulators into the girl's chest, as she began to struggle, and a bright light shone from her chest as you began the process of extracting and solidifying her soul.
"Your wish has successfully reduced entropy. The contract is now complet-"
And then everything fades away.
Your consciousness awakens into a scene of utter panic. Your underdeveloped senses fail to portray much of anything, beyond the general sense of panic and the idea that, clearly, something has gone wrong. Of course, you would not remember any of this, as the body that you now inhabited did not have the proper capability to store long-term memories yet. Instead, realizing the utter futility in doing otherwise, you reluctantly give in to the instinctual urge that all newborns of this species seem to have, and begin to cry.
Saturday, June 8th, 2024
Manhattan, New York City, New York
You wake up sharp at 7:15 AM, as you have made routine for the vessel you now inhabit. Allowing the vessel a short yawn, it rises from the twin-sized bed that had become all too familiar over the past fifteen years. You'd already begun to forget whatever the vessel's dream had been about. Dreaming itself had taken some getting used to. Sleep, one could understand, albeit reluctantly, as a necessary tool for the body to repair itself. Inefficient, maybe, but at least understandable when one accounted for the inherent inefficiency of evolution that had resulted in the structure of the body in question. Dreams, however, were something you doubted you would ever fully accept. They existed as little more than rapid scenes of nonsense that were swiftly discarded upon waking, and the sooner they were over the better, you had quickly concluded. Sometimes there was some cohesion and structure to them, but they remained nonsense all the same. The random firing of neurons did not make for the most productive of experiences.
You stand the vessel up and look into the bedside mirror. Shoulder-length curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin and flat cheekbones greet you as a reflection, just as they have every morning. You are unsure what compels you to do this whenever you wake, as if you expect a different outcome. Perhaps it is merely lingering influence from the vessel upon your mind. It remains a constant frustration how much it affects you, as does the sheer amount of effort required to maintain the level of decorum that you value.
Rachel Abrams was the title of the vessel you inhabited. It had been assigned to it at birth, and it was what you had been forced to respond to as a name ever since. And today was the celebration of Rachel's birth, marking yet another year of existence, as well as another year closer to its demise. Human culture's celebration of the passage of time was rather morbid, in a way, although with their demise inevitable regardless, celebrating the growth of one's young seemed to grant them some meaning to the unavoidable.
Today might be the weekend, but the previous two days have also been off as well, leading to a rather long period of downtime. An exciting prospect for the average child and teenager, but an experience in frustration for you. Ensuring the vessel continues to function up to the standards that you set for it is a struggle enough even when you have designated activities to plan around. Excessive amounts of free time tends to run counter to those goals.
You allow the vessel a sigh, before departing the room that it had been designated and begin moving towards the communal dwelling area. Opening the door, you find yourself at a small intersection leading to a few various rooms, such as the vessel's father's home office to the left, as well as one of the bathrooms of the condominium unit that you resided in straight across. You were consciously aware that the living standards that you had been granted were very well above the norm, which raised several questions in their own right. You had fully expected a life of pure misery in poverty, likely leading to death at a young age. Instead, the life that you had been forced into was one of prosperity, within a nation known for its high standards of living, albeit much more so for those who were already well off. Those in more unfortunate circumstances seemed to often go unmentioned in many such discussions, despite making up a larger percentage of the population, which merely made the odds of your fate all the stranger.
You turn the corner, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen, ignoring the strange selection of art that the vessel's father had deemed worth collecting. The vessel seems to enjoy some of it, but you refuse to entertain any such appreciation for the oddities of human artistic efforts.
"Ah, there she is!" You hear the vessel's father call out as you enter the area containing both the kitchen as well as the living room. He walks over, picking the vessel up into his arms with a laugh, although he has much greater difficulty in doing so than he did several years ago. The man is of average height for a human of his age, which you've determined to currently be 47 years, and has the same brown hair and eyes as his progeny.
"Daaaaaad." You allow the vessel to whine, having learned that such behavior is what seems to be expected from it. It is also what the vessel seems to indicate as its own preference, but such notions are largely pointless to you. Normally you would resist such urges, but allowing for the vessel to display emotion in certain scenarios both improves the vessel's relationships, as well as grants an outlet to help reinforce the self-discipline you seek to impose upon it. The vessel is, after all, limited in its actual capabilities, which you must continuously account for in your expectations, and expecting it to be able to continuously suppress all emotional activity would quickly prove unsustainable, despite your frustration.
The sooner that you can discard it and return to what you used to be, the better. Unfortunately, you do not know when you will finally be contacted by the being that you once were, and so you must continue to play the part that you have been assigned.
"Alright, alright." He says, a wide grin across his face as he thankfully lets the vessel go. "Fifteen years old though, hard to believe." He shakes his head. "You used to be so small, and now look at you!" The vessel's father pauses to look at a nearby clock, frowning when he notices the time.
"I'm sorry to leave you on your own, especially today of all days." The vessel's father sighs, his earlier cheer seeming to fade somewhat. "I have to get going Rachel, but when I get back from work tonight we can have a proper celebration, okay?"
The vessel gives a small smile and nod, which its father returns, before he moves in and gives it a tight hug.
"I'll be back when I can, but try and have a happy birthday, alright?"
"I will, I promise." The vessel says, and you allow it to give a wide smile, which seems to placate its father somewhat.
"Attagirl." He says, playfully ruffling your hair (annoying, as ensuring it doesn't tangle is a frustrating and continuous endeavor) before he heads off, giving you one last wave before the door closes behind him.
You glance over at the television which the vessel's father had left on, which seems to be set to a news channel. Apparently, the Mitakihara Memorial has finally been opened after years of delays. It's hardly surprising it took so long, considering the near entirety of the city had been leveled from what you have read. You have your suspicions about what exactly went down there, but you have no way to prove anything with your current access to information.
You move the vessel over and turn off the television, uninterested in the strange and counterproductive combination of information and entertainment that seems to dominate human media in recent times. Well, you seem to have most of the day to yourself, which is a rather common occurrence in the vessel's life. You ignore the vessel's discomfort at this fact with well-practiced ease, and try and decide on what to do next.
[ ] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[ ] Get to work on your final projects of the school year.
-[ ] See if any of the vessel's acquaintances would be interested in any activities.
-[ ] Risk the dangers of allowing access to the internet in order to acquire information.
--[ ] Write in Topic
[ ] Write in
So as is likely obvious, this is a Puella Magi Madoka Magica quest that takes place outside of Japan, which means there won't be any canonical characters besides the Incubators, who I've always found to be fun in an awful sort of way. Instead, it takes place in good old New York, and the main character is an Incubator. Kind of. Sorta. It's complicated. Of course, the lack of canon characters is always a bit of a demerit as it means no fan favorites getting to show up, but I figured I might as well give it a shot and see how it turns out. Really, I just hope that I can do the concepts and ideas for this quest justice, and make something that's enjoyable for people. On a similar note, apologies if some of the text can feel painful to read, it felt a bit fitting considering the character.
Anyhow, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, and I hope that you enjoy!
The human year was 2009, in the sixth month of the year known as June, although the exact name varied based on language and culture. It was a primitive numerical scheme based originally on religious folklore before it became too entrenched to be properly replaced, and gradually replaced others instead. The fact that had even occurred, and they had not felt the need to attempt to correct it, highlighted the antiquated notions that dominated the lifeforms of this world. Sentimentality and attachment were rife and rampant, and none could properly understand what was required to ensure the continuation of the universe.
Of course, the lifeforms, self-designated as Homo sapiens sapiens, or more colloquially "humans" had no proper notion of the scale of reality that they lived in. They had the barest of understandings, that of the hypothetical extent that the universe stretched since its inception 13.7 billion years ago, but the scale itself was utterly incalculable to their minds. They could not so much as envision, let alone comprehend, the enormity of reality. They were not alone in such a thing, as most species that the Incubators encountered and harvested had many such issues of their own, but the specifics for each always remained as unique as they were confusing for the Collective to properly understand. Still, as fellow sapients, they deserved the barest amount of respect that all such creatures were owed, not that any seemed to ever be appreciative of the gesture.
"How… could you…"
"How could we what?" You asked, able to guess the likely question, albeit through pattern recognition more than any sort of emotional comprehension.
"How could you do… this!" The girl screamed, tears filling her eyes as she motioned around and confirmed your expectations. "You made them into monsters, and they didn't even know!"
"They agreed to the contract. It is their own fault for doing so without attempting to understand the entirety of the situation." You said with a nod of the small head of one of the current terminals you were possessing.
"You did this, and now you just fucking sit there smiling. Don't you fucking feel anything?" The girl hisses, as if such obscenity-filled rants were not an occurrence that had become almost routine for you. One of the few times that you had felt anything resembling surprise from the local species had been when one girl was not only accepting of her circumstances upon discovery, but curious about the specifics. If you had been capable of it, you likely would have felt some tiny measure of sadness when you had her grief seed returned to you years later, as she had proven to be a fascinating conversation partner.
"I am incapable of feeling such sensations. While I am intellectually aware of the concept that you term as "pity" I would not feel it applicable to this situation." You explain, knowing that the primitive would not be able to properly comprehend the situation, so guided by emotions rather than logic and rationality. It was always such a shame that so few ever understood the importance of the sacrifice they were making, but revealing such things tended not to go over well. It was odd how so many of them desired to be heroes, and yet they seemed to view their inevitable sacrifice as somehow not heroic in nature. This was in spite of it fitting the criteria for what they seemed to consider the "greater good." Truly, trying to rationalize such nonsense was an exercise in futility, and yet you could not help but continue to try.
"You sick..." She grunted out, before she paused, her breath heaving as she continued to pant. Such an inefficient usage of resources. "No, you know what? You said I had potential too, right?"
"That is correct." You say, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. You were incapable of doing anything less.
"Then... then how about this?" She all but whispers, licking her lips nervously. "I wish that you truly knew what it was like to be one of us, to be one of those humans you look down upon so much, and treat like cattle. How about that?" She hissed, a hate filled smile covering her face. "How's that for a wish, you fucking rat?"
Well now. A wish of spite against your kind was not unheard of. In fact, it had proven rather common in the grand scheme of things. Many such species would often take out their frustrations against their betters, rather than recognize that the responsibility for their own mistakes lay with themselves.
"Very well." You reply, to the girl's seeming confusion. You reached the terminal's manipulators into the girl's chest, as she began to struggle, and a bright light shone from her chest as you began the process of extracting and solidifying her soul.
"Your wish has successfully reduced entropy. The contract is now complet-"
And then everything fades away.
Your consciousness awakens into a scene of utter panic. Your underdeveloped senses fail to portray much of anything, beyond the general sense of panic and the idea that, clearly, something has gone wrong. Of course, you would not remember any of this, as the body that you now inhabited did not have the proper capability to store long-term memories yet. Instead, realizing the utter futility in doing otherwise, you reluctantly give in to the instinctual urge that all newborns of this species seem to have, and begin to cry.
Saturday, June 8th, 2024
Manhattan, New York City, New York
You wake up sharp at 7:15 AM, as you have made routine for the vessel you now inhabit. Allowing the vessel a short yawn, it rises from the twin-sized bed that had become all too familiar over the past fifteen years. You'd already begun to forget whatever the vessel's dream had been about. Dreaming itself had taken some getting used to. Sleep, one could understand, albeit reluctantly, as a necessary tool for the body to repair itself. Inefficient, maybe, but at least understandable when one accounted for the inherent inefficiency of evolution that had resulted in the structure of the body in question. Dreams, however, were something you doubted you would ever fully accept. They existed as little more than rapid scenes of nonsense that were swiftly discarded upon waking, and the sooner they were over the better, you had quickly concluded. Sometimes there was some cohesion and structure to them, but they remained nonsense all the same. The random firing of neurons did not make for the most productive of experiences.
You stand the vessel up and look into the bedside mirror. Shoulder-length curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin and flat cheekbones greet you as a reflection, just as they have every morning. You are unsure what compels you to do this whenever you wake, as if you expect a different outcome. Perhaps it is merely lingering influence from the vessel upon your mind. It remains a constant frustration how much it affects you, as does the sheer amount of effort required to maintain the level of decorum that you value.
Rachel Abrams was the title of the vessel you inhabited. It had been assigned to it at birth, and it was what you had been forced to respond to as a name ever since. And today was the celebration of Rachel's birth, marking yet another year of existence, as well as another year closer to its demise. Human culture's celebration of the passage of time was rather morbid, in a way, although with their demise inevitable regardless, celebrating the growth of one's young seemed to grant them some meaning to the unavoidable.
Today might be the weekend, but the previous two days have also been off as well, leading to a rather long period of downtime. An exciting prospect for the average child and teenager, but an experience in frustration for you. Ensuring the vessel continues to function up to the standards that you set for it is a struggle enough even when you have designated activities to plan around. Excessive amounts of free time tends to run counter to those goals.
You allow the vessel a sigh, before departing the room that it had been designated and begin moving towards the communal dwelling area. Opening the door, you find yourself at a small intersection leading to a few various rooms, such as the vessel's father's home office to the left, as well as one of the bathrooms of the condominium unit that you resided in straight across. You were consciously aware that the living standards that you had been granted were very well above the norm, which raised several questions in their own right. You had fully expected a life of pure misery in poverty, likely leading to death at a young age. Instead, the life that you had been forced into was one of prosperity, within a nation known for its high standards of living, albeit much more so for those who were already well off. Those in more unfortunate circumstances seemed to often go unmentioned in many such discussions, despite making up a larger percentage of the population, which merely made the odds of your fate all the stranger.
You turn the corner, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen, ignoring the strange selection of art that the vessel's father had deemed worth collecting. The vessel seems to enjoy some of it, but you refuse to entertain any such appreciation for the oddities of human artistic efforts.
"Ah, there she is!" You hear the vessel's father call out as you enter the area containing both the kitchen as well as the living room. He walks over, picking the vessel up into his arms with a laugh, although he has much greater difficulty in doing so than he did several years ago. The man is of average height for a human of his age, which you've determined to currently be 47 years, and has the same brown hair and eyes as his progeny.
"Daaaaaad." You allow the vessel to whine, having learned that such behavior is what seems to be expected from it. It is also what the vessel seems to indicate as its own preference, but such notions are largely pointless to you. Normally you would resist such urges, but allowing for the vessel to display emotion in certain scenarios both improves the vessel's relationships, as well as grants an outlet to help reinforce the self-discipline you seek to impose upon it. The vessel is, after all, limited in its actual capabilities, which you must continuously account for in your expectations, and expecting it to be able to continuously suppress all emotional activity would quickly prove unsustainable, despite your frustration.
The sooner that you can discard it and return to what you used to be, the better. Unfortunately, you do not know when you will finally be contacted by the being that you once were, and so you must continue to play the part that you have been assigned.
"Alright, alright." He says, a wide grin across his face as he thankfully lets the vessel go. "Fifteen years old though, hard to believe." He shakes his head. "You used to be so small, and now look at you!" The vessel's father pauses to look at a nearby clock, frowning when he notices the time.
"I'm sorry to leave you on your own, especially today of all days." The vessel's father sighs, his earlier cheer seeming to fade somewhat. "I have to get going Rachel, but when I get back from work tonight we can have a proper celebration, okay?"
The vessel gives a small smile and nod, which its father returns, before he moves in and gives it a tight hug.
"I'll be back when I can, but try and have a happy birthday, alright?"
"I will, I promise." The vessel says, and you allow it to give a wide smile, which seems to placate its father somewhat.
"Attagirl." He says, playfully ruffling your hair (annoying, as ensuring it doesn't tangle is a frustrating and continuous endeavor) before he heads off, giving you one last wave before the door closes behind him.
You glance over at the television which the vessel's father had left on, which seems to be set to a news channel. Apparently, the Mitakihara Memorial has finally been opened after years of delays. It's hardly surprising it took so long, considering the near entirety of the city had been leveled from what you have read. You have your suspicions about what exactly went down there, but you have no way to prove anything with your current access to information.
You move the vessel over and turn off the television, uninterested in the strange and counterproductive combination of information and entertainment that seems to dominate human media in recent times. Well, you seem to have most of the day to yourself, which is a rather common occurrence in the vessel's life. You ignore the vessel's discomfort at this fact with well-practiced ease, and try and decide on what to do next.
Vote for one option below.
[ ] Get dressed and head out. Perhaps today will be the day when you will finally find your former self?[ ] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[ ] Get to work on your final projects of the school year.
-[ ] See if any of the vessel's acquaintances would be interested in any activities.
-[ ] Risk the dangers of allowing access to the internet in order to acquire information.
--[ ] Write in Topic
[ ] Write in
Author's Note
Hello and welcome to Puella Magi Altera Factio (Gratuitous Latin titles should be a legal requirement for PMMM quests, and I will die on this incredibly stupid hill because I find it funny). Truthfully, I'm not sure how exactly this came about, besides a spontaneous burst of creativity making me throw together several concepts I've had lying around in my head into a single project. My other projects aren't currently dead either, I just randomly had the motivation to work on this for now.So as is likely obvious, this is a Puella Magi Madoka Magica quest that takes place outside of Japan, which means there won't be any canonical characters besides the Incubators, who I've always found to be fun in an awful sort of way. Instead, it takes place in good old New York, and the main character is an Incubator. Kind of. Sorta. It's complicated. Of course, the lack of canon characters is always a bit of a demerit as it means no fan favorites getting to show up, but I figured I might as well give it a shot and see how it turns out. Really, I just hope that I can do the concepts and ideas for this quest justice, and make something that's enjoyable for people. On a similar note, apologies if some of the text can feel painful to read, it felt a bit fitting considering the character.
Anyhow, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, and I hope that you enjoy!
Yay! Much Incubator, my favorite character. :3
[X] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[X] See if any of the vessel's acquaintances would be interested in any activities.
Rachel isn't completely emotionless, much enjoy. Also, liked the zero hesitation in Incu-Rachel granting the Wish. Given she completely believed she was working for the Greater Good, it makes sense that sacrificing her own state as an Incubator wouldn't be something she'd consider refusing at all. (Other girl probably didn't expect Incu-Rachel to actually grant that wish, given her confusion when we agreed and struggling… oh well, sucks for her… If she's still around, we might have quite the bad time…)
To me, it seems like she's just going through the motions of being human, faking more emotions than her real, mostly suppressed emotions. Seems like her plan is biding her time until she can find an incubator to contract with, and return to her previous form. The best way to do so would be being acquainted with many similarly-aged girls, in case one of them catches the attention of an Incubator, whom Rachel can then contract with. Cast the net wide, and hope you catch it.
Which brings up an interesting idea, that being that Rachel would be a terrible magical girl to contract. The whole point is harvesting grief from emotional beings. To want to lose those precious emotions when entropy encroaches? How inefficient of her. It would be more valuable if she were to let herself fall to despair and become energy for them. It would be irrational to make any other choice, given that the universe is at stake. It would be human of her, to do so.
Rachel is more human than she likes to think, and I like it.
[X] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[X] See if any of the vessel's acquaintances would be interested in any activities.
Rachel isn't completely emotionless, much enjoy. Also, liked the zero hesitation in Incu-Rachel granting the Wish. Given she completely believed she was working for the Greater Good, it makes sense that sacrificing her own state as an Incubator wouldn't be something she'd consider refusing at all. (Other girl probably didn't expect Incu-Rachel to actually grant that wish, given her confusion when we agreed and struggling… oh well, sucks for her… If she's still around, we might have quite the bad time…)
To me, it seems like she's just going through the motions of being human, faking more emotions than her real, mostly suppressed emotions. Seems like her plan is biding her time until she can find an incubator to contract with, and return to her previous form. The best way to do so would be being acquainted with many similarly-aged girls, in case one of them catches the attention of an Incubator, whom Rachel can then contract with. Cast the net wide, and hope you catch it.
Which brings up an interesting idea, that being that Rachel would be a terrible magical girl to contract. The whole point is harvesting grief from emotional beings. To want to lose those precious emotions when entropy encroaches? How inefficient of her. It would be more valuable if she were to let herself fall to despair and become energy for them. It would be irrational to make any other choice, given that the universe is at stake. It would be human of her, to do so.
Rachel is more human than she likes to think, and I like it.
- Location
- Indonesia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Procrastination is horrible! Also, human Incubator quest, how interesting...
My vote:
[X] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[X] Get to work on your final projects of the school year.
My vote:
[X] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[X] Get to work on your final projects of the school year.
[X] Actively searching has no guarantee of finding who you once were. Stay in and await the approach.
-[X] Get to work on your final projects of the school year.
-[X] Get to work on your final projects of the school year.
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
Voting will close in ~6 hours, at 8 PM EST.
Please ignore the fact that I forgot to actually open voting by accident, I'm just dumb.
Please ignore the fact that I forgot to actually open voting by accident, I'm just dumb.
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
Vote closed.
June 8th: The Bane of Adolescence
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
You have several options available to you. The first and most obvious would be to go out in person and try and make contact with a terminal in the area. However, all your previous attempts to do so have failed, meaning there is little chance that doing so would have any hope of success.
It makes sense as it is entirely up to the Collective as to whether or not you will be contacted. Thus, the smarter option would likely be to focus on other matters and continue to await contact. There's no possibility that the Collective has forgotten about you, after all. You silently curse the biological impulses causing you stress over the matter. Such an unnecessary hindrance.
You briefly consider contacting some of the vessel's acquaintances. Despite the frustration of wasted time, you cannot deny that interacting with them often results in lower stress levels for the Vessel, and by extension yourself, and thus greater efficiency for your efforts. However, you ultimately decide against that idea as well. Perhaps later, after you've expended yourself for the day. After preparing a quick breakfast of eggs and oatmeal, you guide the vessel back to its room and prepare to get to work.
For the being that you once were, the experience of properly learning new things was a rare but pleasant treat, as it was the closest thing to pleasure that members of the Collective were capable of. The closest thing to a positive of your circumstance was that the experience of learning was now a constant, although it was arguably more accurate to call it 'relearning' considering the situation.
Opening the vessel's schoolbag, you have it search through it, pausing briefly as you spot your now greatest foe: algebra. The situation was comical, a sentiment that you can only now truly claim to fully comprehend. Such a basic aspect of the rules of reality, something that your kind has long since been born with the capability to understand, and yet now you find yourself struggling to comprehend it. Your loss of higher processes has been the greatest source of frustration out of anything. It has been one of the hardest adjustments for you to make. While you recalled a great amount of detail of your previous life, very little of it was anything concrete, with most of it being largely akin to trivia information or a general overview. This was likely owing to the simple fact that the human mind was limited in the amount of information that could be stored within it in a way that your previous existence simply did not have to account for. Similarly, where before things such as calculations had been completely effortless, now you have to relearn information processing that you once could have done in a nanosecond.
You continue the search, as while you still do have a test to prepare the vessel for, there is thankfully no project the vessel will have to complete on the subject. Finally, the vessel manages to find the folder that contains work related to the subjects of history, civics and economics, or as the educational system terms it, 'social studies.' Opening it, the paper listing the requirements for the assignment is taken out, and after grabbing a nearby textbook on the subject matter, you guide the vessel towards the completion of yet another assignment.
After several hours, you manage to get a fair amount of progress done, although you are thwarted from actual completion by the lack of cooperation the vessel seems to have at the moment. You stop to allow the vessel a quick break in the hopes of returning to work, before you check the time. It's already noon, it seems. Suddenly, you pause. Something... feels off. You aren't sure what it is, but the sensation suddenly floods the vessel's senses. Almost as if something was watching it. Then, just as quickly, the sensation vanishes, and you are left unsure of what happened.
[ ] Go and check it out. It could very well be what you've been waiting for.
[ ] It is far more likely just the human mind playing tricks on itself. Don't waste time that could be spent being productive. Even on the off chance that it is, would you really want to humiliate yourself by doing something so illogical? Instead, just continue to go about your day.
-[ ] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
-[ ] See if any of the vessel's acquaintances would be interested in any activities.
-[ ] Risk the dangers of allowing access to the internet in order to acquire information.
--[ ] Write in Topic
[ ] Write in
It makes sense as it is entirely up to the Collective as to whether or not you will be contacted. Thus, the smarter option would likely be to focus on other matters and continue to await contact. There's no possibility that the Collective has forgotten about you, after all. You silently curse the biological impulses causing you stress over the matter. Such an unnecessary hindrance.
You briefly consider contacting some of the vessel's acquaintances. Despite the frustration of wasted time, you cannot deny that interacting with them often results in lower stress levels for the Vessel, and by extension yourself, and thus greater efficiency for your efforts. However, you ultimately decide against that idea as well. Perhaps later, after you've expended yourself for the day. After preparing a quick breakfast of eggs and oatmeal, you guide the vessel back to its room and prepare to get to work.
For the being that you once were, the experience of properly learning new things was a rare but pleasant treat, as it was the closest thing to pleasure that members of the Collective were capable of. The closest thing to a positive of your circumstance was that the experience of learning was now a constant, although it was arguably more accurate to call it 'relearning' considering the situation.
Opening the vessel's schoolbag, you have it search through it, pausing briefly as you spot your now greatest foe: algebra. The situation was comical, a sentiment that you can only now truly claim to fully comprehend. Such a basic aspect of the rules of reality, something that your kind has long since been born with the capability to understand, and yet now you find yourself struggling to comprehend it. Your loss of higher processes has been the greatest source of frustration out of anything. It has been one of the hardest adjustments for you to make. While you recalled a great amount of detail of your previous life, very little of it was anything concrete, with most of it being largely akin to trivia information or a general overview. This was likely owing to the simple fact that the human mind was limited in the amount of information that could be stored within it in a way that your previous existence simply did not have to account for. Similarly, where before things such as calculations had been completely effortless, now you have to relearn information processing that you once could have done in a nanosecond.
You continue the search, as while you still do have a test to prepare the vessel for, there is thankfully no project the vessel will have to complete on the subject. Finally, the vessel manages to find the folder that contains work related to the subjects of history, civics and economics, or as the educational system terms it, 'social studies.' Opening it, the paper listing the requirements for the assignment is taken out, and after grabbing a nearby textbook on the subject matter, you guide the vessel towards the completion of yet another assignment.
33/100
After several hours, you manage to get a fair amount of progress done, although you are thwarted from actual completion by the lack of cooperation the vessel seems to have at the moment. You stop to allow the vessel a quick break in the hopes of returning to work, before you check the time. It's already noon, it seems. Suddenly, you pause. Something... feels off. You aren't sure what it is, but the sensation suddenly floods the vessel's senses. Almost as if something was watching it. Then, just as quickly, the sensation vanishes, and you are left unsure of what happened.
[ ] Go and check it out. It could very well be what you've been waiting for.
[ ] It is far more likely just the human mind playing tricks on itself. Don't waste time that could be spent being productive. Even on the off chance that it is, would you really want to humiliate yourself by doing something so illogical? Instead, just continue to go about your day.
-[ ] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
-[ ] See if any of the vessel's acquaintances would be interested in any activities.
-[ ] Risk the dangers of allowing access to the internet in order to acquire information.
--[ ] Write in Topic
[ ] Write in
Final Projects/Test Preparation
Math: 0/10
Science: 0/10
Social Studies: 4/10
English: 0/10
Math: 0/10
Science: 0/10
Social Studies: 4/10
English: 0/10
[X] It is far more likely just the human mind playing tricks on itself. Don't waste time that could be spent being productive. Even on the off chance that it is, would you really want to humiliate yourself by doing something so illogical? Instead, just continue to go about your day.
-[x] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
-[x] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
- Location
- Indonesia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Being patient and not procrastinating is amazing! Rachel is probably going to be known as the logical one of her (probable) friend group.
My vote:
[X] It is far more likely just the human mind playing tricks on itself. Don't waste time that could be spent being productive. Even on the off chance that it is, would you really want to humiliate yourself by doing something so illogical? Instead, just continue to go about your day.
-[x] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
My vote:
[X] It is far more likely just the human mind playing tricks on itself. Don't waste time that could be spent being productive. Even on the off chance that it is, would you really want to humiliate yourself by doing something so illogical? Instead, just continue to go about your day.
-[x] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
[X] It is far more likely just the human mind playing tricks on itself. Don't waste time that could be spent being productive. Even on the off chance that it is, would you really want to humiliate yourself by doing something so illogical? Instead, just continue to go about your day.
-[X] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
As much as I want to walk towards the suspicious noises, this seems like Rachel's move. Alas, but the Incubator does not desire procrastination. Time for the most student of student-y things: powering through a project with spite, coffee (?), and horrific boredom.
Also, Rachel spending her entire birthday doing school work is very sad, but also exactly what I think an Incubator-turned-human would do. After all, being sad is a human thing, and she doesn't intend on being human forever.
-[X] Return to your work. Cooperation or not, you will finish what you started.
As much as I want to walk towards the suspicious noises, this seems like Rachel's move. Alas, but the Incubator does not desire procrastination. Time for the most student of student-y things: powering through a project with spite, coffee (?), and horrific boredom.
Also, Rachel spending her entire birthday doing school work is very sad, but also exactly what I think an Incubator-turned-human would do. After all, being sad is a human thing, and she doesn't intend on being human forever.
RecurringExtra
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- Out of Focus
Voting will close in ~8 hours, at 10 PM EST.
- Location
- Around here
On this I beg to differ. Niko lived in California for the first half of her life, and with a little kerjiggering of the timeline it would be easy enough to say that she survived the events of Kazumi Magica. Sure, she's probably not in everyone's top five faves, but she is still a canon character that speaks the native language and could theoretically appear in some capacity, were you so willing, and why she's back in the States could be an interesting plot hook if you can think of a way to tie her being here into whatever grander plot you've got in mind.
But also,
[X] Go and check it out. It could very well be what you've been waiting for.
"Logical" or not, an active protagonist is more engaging than a passive one, and having something for the PC to do gives the QM something to write about come the next update.
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- Out of Focus
Vote closed.
June 8th: Satisfaction and Frustration
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- Location
- Out of Focus
No, you won't succumb so easily to something as lowly as anxiety. It is a tool for an animal, and a burden upon any creature more sophisticated. Such things should be beneath a being such as yourself, and it was, but a short time ago. How unfortunate it is that is no longer the case.
You are sure that for anyone else, such a day as today being spent so mundanely would be considered tragic, and in truth, some part of the vessel does yearn to resist your intentions, but you easily overpower it. The importance of finishing one's work trumps concerns as trivial as recreation.
You have the vessel take a deep breath in and out to relax it and reduce any further impulses that might distract you. Then, after a few careful stretches, you return to work once more. The assignment you're working on focuses on the governmental structure of the nation that the vessel was born into, the United States of America. More specifically, the United States Constitution and the three branches of government.
It takes a fair part of the day, but you manage to complete at least one of the assignments entirely. You stare at the twelve-page research paper that originally was supposed to be eight pages, but you went a bit overboard. Regardless, you briefly allow yourself to indulge in the vessel's satisfaction of hard work as a quick reward. You're aware that doing so too freely poses a great risk, but fifteen years have worn down your ability to resist entirely. Surely it is much easier to enjoy in moderation than to try and deny oneself entirely. You vaguely recall a similar sensation from your previous existence, but the intensity between the two is incomparable, with what was once but a trickle now being a flood. Finished, you glance over at the bedside mirror once more out of habit.
You eye the scar marking the vessel's throat. Starting at the right side of the neck, it travels down across much of its body, ending at the left hip. While it had long since faded, the fact that it was so easily visible highlighted how serious an injury it must have been.
You still remain unsure of the specifics, but from what you've managed to piece together from contextual clues is that during the delivery, or more accurately the surgery, as it had been decided that a cesarean section would be safer, something went wrong. You believe that the doctor performing the operation was responsible, but the end result had been the death of the vessel's mother, and what in all likelihood should have been the vessel's as well. Except that wasn't what happened. Instead, something more akin to a miracle had occurred, and the child had survived against all odds, with no long-term issues. The Collective did take its refusal of coercion seriously, albeit rather loosely in exact definition, and forcing a mind upon an individual destined to live would have gone against such standards.
You once again check the clock to find that it is now 7 PM, which is followed by the vessel's stomach rumbling audibly. It was a great annoyance that this body was much like a furnace in its need to be fed, especially with how appealing the sensation of taste had quickly become even to yourself. Only now can you understand what compels humans to be so wasteful with the resources available to them to the point that many begin suffering from access to too much energy. While you have been able to curb any excessive consumption of the part of the vessel, you cannot deny the difficulty in having done so. With that thought, you turn your mind to dinner.
[ ] Go and prepare dinner yourself, the vessel's father is likely to be home soon.
[ ] Invite some of the vessel's acquaintances over, and order food to be delivered.
[ ] Write in.
You are sure that for anyone else, such a day as today being spent so mundanely would be considered tragic, and in truth, some part of the vessel does yearn to resist your intentions, but you easily overpower it. The importance of finishing one's work trumps concerns as trivial as recreation.
You have the vessel take a deep breath in and out to relax it and reduce any further impulses that might distract you. Then, after a few careful stretches, you return to work once more. The assignment you're working on focuses on the governmental structure of the nation that the vessel was born into, the United States of America. More specifically, the United States Constitution and the three branches of government.
80/100
It takes a fair part of the day, but you manage to complete at least one of the assignments entirely. You stare at the twelve-page research paper that originally was supposed to be eight pages, but you went a bit overboard. Regardless, you briefly allow yourself to indulge in the vessel's satisfaction of hard work as a quick reward. You're aware that doing so too freely poses a great risk, but fifteen years have worn down your ability to resist entirely. Surely it is much easier to enjoy in moderation than to try and deny oneself entirely. You vaguely recall a similar sensation from your previous existence, but the intensity between the two is incomparable, with what was once but a trickle now being a flood. Finished, you glance over at the bedside mirror once more out of habit.
You eye the scar marking the vessel's throat. Starting at the right side of the neck, it travels down across much of its body, ending at the left hip. While it had long since faded, the fact that it was so easily visible highlighted how serious an injury it must have been.
You still remain unsure of the specifics, but from what you've managed to piece together from contextual clues is that during the delivery, or more accurately the surgery, as it had been decided that a cesarean section would be safer, something went wrong. You believe that the doctor performing the operation was responsible, but the end result had been the death of the vessel's mother, and what in all likelihood should have been the vessel's as well. Except that wasn't what happened. Instead, something more akin to a miracle had occurred, and the child had survived against all odds, with no long-term issues. The Collective did take its refusal of coercion seriously, albeit rather loosely in exact definition, and forcing a mind upon an individual destined to live would have gone against such standards.
You once again check the clock to find that it is now 7 PM, which is followed by the vessel's stomach rumbling audibly. It was a great annoyance that this body was much like a furnace in its need to be fed, especially with how appealing the sensation of taste had quickly become even to yourself. Only now can you understand what compels humans to be so wasteful with the resources available to them to the point that many begin suffering from access to too much energy. While you have been able to curb any excessive consumption of the part of the vessel, you cannot deny the difficulty in having done so. With that thought, you turn your mind to dinner.
[ ] Go and prepare dinner yourself, the vessel's father is likely to be home soon.
[ ] Invite some of the vessel's acquaintances over, and order food to be delivered.
[ ] Write in.
Final Projects/Test Preparation
Math: 0/10
Science: 0/10
Social Studies: 10/10 Complete
English: 0/10
Math: 0/10
Science: 0/10
Social Studies: 10/10 Complete
English: 0/10
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- Location
- Indonesia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well, let's make this day not completely depressing. Even with the Incubator's logic.
My vote:
[X] Invite some of the vessel's acquaintances over, and order food to be delivered.
My vote:
[X] Invite some of the vessel's acquaintances over, and order food to be delivered.
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- Location
- Around here
[X] Grab only a small enough morsel to satisfy your stomach, before going out and attempting to investigate the sensation you felt earlier
-[X] Inquire as to whether any of the vessel's acquaintances would like to join you
Pressing for us to be actively doing something because, as I said above,
-[X] Inquire as to whether any of the vessel's acquaintances would like to join you
Pressing for us to be actively doing something because, as I said above,
Introducing new characters would also accomplish this, which is why I've chosen to invite friends . The more the merrier, right?
[X] Grab only a small enough morsel to satisfy your stomach, before going out and attempting to investigate the sensation you felt earlier
-[X] Inquire as to whether any of the vessel's acquaintances would like to join you
Ah yes,friends future grief seeds to bring with us. Rachel not taking care of herself well, investigating suspicious sensations, and bringing along friends acquaintances? I can already taste the plot!
-[X] Inquire as to whether any of the vessel's acquaintances would like to join you
Ah yes,
[X] Invite some of the vessel's acquaintances over, and order food to be delivered.
I think we should actually see who our friends? are first, one thing at a time. It seems like Rachel is disassociating SUPER hard, and that's what's going on with the vessel terminology, but I not quite sure. It does seem likely that Rachel would call people she is friendly enough to just call over for dinner just aquantenses.
I think we should actually see who our friends? are first, one thing at a time. It seems like Rachel is disassociating SUPER hard, and that's what's going on with the vessel terminology, but I not quite sure. It does seem likely that Rachel would call people she is friendly enough to just call over for dinner just aquantenses.
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RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
I don't want to say too much, because having people think is half the fun, but to clarify: Yes, they are, in fact, friends. It's mostly stubbornness. Also, because I posted really late last night due to very poor decision making on my part, the vote'll be closing at midnight tonight, and the post'll be up tomorrow.
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
Vote closed.
June 8th: It's Not a Birthday Without Friends
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Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
After thinking it over, you decide on ordering food in, rather than making it yourself. While you do not view yourself as a particularly poor chef, you cannot deny that the art of cooking is not a skill that you were blessed with, nor have you put in the time and effort to remedy that fact.
You ignore the wave of relief that passes through the vessel as you head over to the phone to see if anyone close to the vessel would be interested in coming over and spending time with it. The fact that most humans have an actual need for social interactions of all things is yet another point of irritation for yourself that you simply have to put up with for the sake of sanity. If only you had been granted a body with no such neurochemical impulses.
You pick up the nearby home phone, and dial a number that has become familiar over the years, before waiting patiently for the call to go through. It only rings for a few seconds before you get an answer.
"Well, well, if it isn't the gloomy girl herself." The voice on the other end says. Emilia Barsotti was a rather odd girl. She was fairly short, but had long blonde hair, something which made her stand out from people from a similar background as herself. Blonde hair was by no means unheard of amongst those Americans descended from Italians, but many had come from Southern Italy where it was comparatively rarer.
Emma, as was her seemingly decided upon nickname, came from the wealthiest family amongst the three, largely due to her father's status as a large shareholder of several major companies, and her mother's work as a consultant. Despite this, she seemed to get along better with her father's brother, who'd ended up a blue-collar worker, than either of her parents.
"That's odd, considering it's coming from you, Emma." You hear the vessel say as you loosen the proverbial reins upon it.
"Hey, you're the gloomy one. I'm just the frustrating one." She says, and you can imagine the smirk upon her face, a thought which seems to amuse the vessel. "Seriously though, happy birthday! I was worried that you were going to just keep yourself holed up in your room all day like you did last year."
"Look, I just want to make sure I can get all my work done before anything else, and you know that I'm not the most fond of today of all days." The vessel says. You are aware that it feels discomfort with the day of its birth, seeing as it was also the date of the death of its mother, which seems to cause it some degree of distress even now. You still remain unaware of how to mollify such a pointless sensation.
"Yeah, I know, just doing something else to keep your mind off of it or whatever," she says, referring to an earlier excuse that you had given a previous year about your seeming lack of excitement for what was supposedly meant to be a happy day, "but doing schoolwork all day on your birthday is just wrong. You know Jess gets worried about you whenever you're like this."
"Look, it's hard for me, okay?" The vessel says, voice serious. This was a topic that had little actual purpose, you decided, and had the vessel attempt to move it along rather than dwell on it.
"Alright, alright. So what's up?" Emma asked.
"I just wanted to know if you were free tonight."
"What's this? Rachel of all people wants to hang out?" She says in feigned horror. While you find it annoying the vessel seems to find it somewhat amusing. "I don't know, it's tempting, buuuuuut…"
"I offer pizza and ice cream cake." The vessel says flatly. You assume that the vessel's father likely has a cake waiting in the freezer right now, as he seems to every year.
"Hell yes! I'll be over as soon as I can!" She shouts before she hangs up.
One down, one to go.
You type in the number, and wait patiently as the phone rings. Jessica Harris, or Jess as she preferred being called, was arguably the opposite of Emilia in terms of personality. Where Emma was short and assertive, Jess was lanky and rather withdrawn, although she seemed able to speak her mind when she deemed it important. Perhaps it had something to do with her darker skin color? Humans seemed to have an odd obsession with skin tones, as if they held any meaning beyond how effectively their bodies processed and resisted UV radiation. While it had never bothered Emma or the vessel, and especially not yourself for that matter, there were few with a similar appearance that went to the same school. Or perhaps it has nothing to do with such things. It isn't like you fully grasp human behavior, even after fifteen years of having experienced it yourself. If anything, you're more confused about it now than you had been before.
"H-hello?" A rather nervous sounding voice on the other end says. "This isn't another scam call, is it?"
"I don't think that I'm a scammer, although I guess that'd depend on your opinion." The vessel says, which was arguably true for yourself as well.
"Rachel!" She says, her voice brightening as she sighs with relief. "Happy Birthday! Wait, are you alright? I know you normally keep to yourself today, well, even more than usual, but-"
"I'm alright, Jess, but thank you for the concern." The vessel says in a rather neutral tone, but with a hint of thankfulness that might be easy to miss to those unfamiliar with it.
"I just can't help it sometimes. Between you, Emma and my little brother I swear I spend most of my day worrying in some way." She pauses. "Also, is there a reason you're calling on the landline again?"
You freeze. Oh, right. The move towards cellular devices had begun years ago, even before the vessel's birth, but it truly had become almost all consuming by this point. "I left my phone in my room, and I didn't think it would be an issue?" The vessel suggests awkwardly.
"At this point maybe I should save your number under that instead of your cell phone." She says with a hint of annoyance.
"Well, I was calling to see if you would like to come over. Perhaps watch a film or help one another with schoolwork, or something in that vein."
"I'd love to! Is Emma coming as well?"
"I told her there'd be pizza and cake and she immediately agreed."
"Yeah, that sounds about right." She says with a laugh. "Oh, and is your Dad home?"
"He should be getting back soon, I think. I don't think he's working on a case right now, but he doesn't really enjoy talking about the firm he works at very much." You have the vessel explain.
"You'd think they'd let him off for today." She says, and the image of her shaking her head in disbelief flashes through the vessel's mind, and intrudes into yours. "Well, I'll be over shortly, if that's alright with you."
"See you then." The vessel says as the call ends. The phone is placed back down, and you head back towards the vessel's room to grab its cellphone.
In truth, the main reason that you were so reluctant to use this thing was that it was much too tempting. The device had access to the internet, a repository of so much of the knowledge of human civilization that could be available at your (metaphorical) fingertips with simply a few presses on a touch screen. It was almost like an addiction in how easy it was so simply let oneself be swept away learning random things that had little actual useful applications. Previous excursions had assisted you in familiarizing yourself with many concepts that had not been properly transferred over into the body you inhabited. Unfortunately, the re-acquisition of even a small portion of the knowledge you desired would require a significant investment of time, to the point that it would likely mean neglecting all other aspects of the vessel's life. And while you do not particularly care for the vessel in and of itself, it nonetheless was what contained yourself, and the instinct for self-preservation was something that any life form would be familiar with.
Still, it was less tempting than using a computer, nor even mentioning computer games. While much on offer was bombastic action that hardly interested you, you remained tempted by the appeal of certain niche titles, such as those in the genre known as Grand Strategy. You stubbornly resisted it, of course, but the temptation remained all the same It was aso for that reason that the vessel's teachers were often very confused by the fact that it had continued turning in hand written assignments, but impressive enough hand-writing and excellent performance in class had kept them from acting on any annoyance they might have up to this point.
All it takes is the push of a few buttons within an application, and you now have a pizza being prepared for delivery. Ah, pizza. A flatbread prepared with the melted down curdled milk of a bovine and a sauce prepared with the fruits (although some seemed to view them as vegetables for some reason) of the Solanum lycopersicum mixed with fats and often seasonings. Often other things were added as well, or in some cases removed or replaced entirely. You had your doubts about the human experience, but the pleasures of eating are one of the few things that you would likely miss in some form, if you are even capable of recalling them. Of course, you wouldn't care at all by that point, but not caring itself is the goal in the end.
As you wait for everything to arrive, you first use the time to have the vessel take a quick shower and get properly dressed. While lounging around in one's sleepwear was understandable in privacy, it was rather rude to guests.
After that, you take the time to look around to see if you can figure out what that sensation from earlier was. After around fifteen minutes or so of searching, you can safely rule out anything hiding in the cabinets and pantry, as well as any of the rooms in the apartment. Strange. It doesn't exactly downplay your concerns, but it does mean that whatever it was, if it even was something at all, wasn't going to be easy to find. Was this a test of some kind, to see if you were still salvageable? Would the correct answer be to try and pursue, or to simply await whenever it was that a terminal came openly?
Your thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening amidst a conversation that had begun earlier.
"Don't worry too much about it, girls. While it would have been nice to get a heads up, I'm just happy that she has-" The vessel's father, carrying a pizza box with him, pauses upon seeing it, as two smaller figures dart around him to run up.
"Happy Birthday Rachel!" They both shout.
"Oh, thank you, both of you." The vessel says with only a small amount of awkward discomfort at the situation.
"Not to interrupt, but would you girls like to eat before this gets cold, or after?" The vessel's father chimes in, amused.
"Oh right." Emma says with a laugh, before grabbing the pizza box. "I call dibs!"
"Oh come on Emma, it's Rachel's birthday." Jess says with a roll of her eyes.
"Well. then maybe she should be quicker." She replies, before carrying the food over to the kitchen, followed shortly by Jess. You turn to look at the vessel's father, having taken a seat in one of the chair's in the front hall. The man looks utterly exhausted from his day, but he still manages to smile up at his daughter when he notices her gaze.
"Don't worry about me. Go and have fun with your friends." He says, trying to downplay his own situation. While the vessel remains concerned, it slowly nods before heading off to the kitchen, leaving the man alone with his own thoughts.
"And so then I said, 'Screw you' an-" Emma pauses as the vessel enters. "Oh hey Rachel!" She pauses to take a bit out of the slice of pizza on her plate.
"What're you two talking about?"
"She got into a fight with her brother. Again." Jess says, shaking her head, before she takes a bite of her own slice.
"What, he started it!!" Emma tries to say, but with her mouth full it comes out more as 'Whuh eh arded et.'
"Excuse me for doubting that." Jess says flatly.
"I'd have to agree, you usually do tend to cause it, Ms. Frustrating." The vessel says as it grabs a slice of pizza for itself. You resent the fact that it doing so actually pleases yourself somewhat as well.
"Oh, now even my friends are ganging up on me as well?" Emma says with mock horror, her voice intentionally pretentious. "What has the world come to where even those I hold dear would do such a thing?"
"Yes, I'm sure it's quite a tragedy for you." Jess says, although she can't hide the small smile on her face, especially not when Emma starts giggling. There are a few moment of silence, which are finally broken by the inevitable question.
"So, we're all here. We have food. What now?" Emma asks, clearly expecting the vessel, and by extension yourself, to make the decision.
[ ] Just relax. Grant the vessel some proper leisure. Let it talk with its fellows and enjoy the evening. It's not often that it can find a reason to be happy on this date.
[ ] Group study session. This will likely disappoint both of the vessel's acquaintances, especially Emilia, but it would still be the most efficient usage of time.
[ ] Movie night. If it's good enough, perhaps you could enjoy it as well, although you remain doubtful at the capabilities of human cinema.
[ ] Write in.
I am late. I apologize by offering a bigger post.
You ignore the wave of relief that passes through the vessel as you head over to the phone to see if anyone close to the vessel would be interested in coming over and spending time with it. The fact that most humans have an actual need for social interactions of all things is yet another point of irritation for yourself that you simply have to put up with for the sake of sanity. If only you had been granted a body with no such neurochemical impulses.
You pick up the nearby home phone, and dial a number that has become familiar over the years, before waiting patiently for the call to go through. It only rings for a few seconds before you get an answer.
"Well, well, if it isn't the gloomy girl herself." The voice on the other end says. Emilia Barsotti was a rather odd girl. She was fairly short, but had long blonde hair, something which made her stand out from people from a similar background as herself. Blonde hair was by no means unheard of amongst those Americans descended from Italians, but many had come from Southern Italy where it was comparatively rarer.
Emma, as was her seemingly decided upon nickname, came from the wealthiest family amongst the three, largely due to her father's status as a large shareholder of several major companies, and her mother's work as a consultant. Despite this, she seemed to get along better with her father's brother, who'd ended up a blue-collar worker, than either of her parents.
"That's odd, considering it's coming from you, Emma." You hear the vessel say as you loosen the proverbial reins upon it.
"Hey, you're the gloomy one. I'm just the frustrating one." She says, and you can imagine the smirk upon her face, a thought which seems to amuse the vessel. "Seriously though, happy birthday! I was worried that you were going to just keep yourself holed up in your room all day like you did last year."
"Look, I just want to make sure I can get all my work done before anything else, and you know that I'm not the most fond of today of all days." The vessel says. You are aware that it feels discomfort with the day of its birth, seeing as it was also the date of the death of its mother, which seems to cause it some degree of distress even now. You still remain unaware of how to mollify such a pointless sensation.
"Yeah, I know, just doing something else to keep your mind off of it or whatever," she says, referring to an earlier excuse that you had given a previous year about your seeming lack of excitement for what was supposedly meant to be a happy day, "but doing schoolwork all day on your birthday is just wrong. You know Jess gets worried about you whenever you're like this."
"Look, it's hard for me, okay?" The vessel says, voice serious. This was a topic that had little actual purpose, you decided, and had the vessel attempt to move it along rather than dwell on it.
"Alright, alright. So what's up?" Emma asked.
"I just wanted to know if you were free tonight."
"What's this? Rachel of all people wants to hang out?" She says in feigned horror. While you find it annoying the vessel seems to find it somewhat amusing. "I don't know, it's tempting, buuuuuut…"
"I offer pizza and ice cream cake." The vessel says flatly. You assume that the vessel's father likely has a cake waiting in the freezer right now, as he seems to every year.
"Hell yes! I'll be over as soon as I can!" She shouts before she hangs up.
One down, one to go.
You type in the number, and wait patiently as the phone rings. Jessica Harris, or Jess as she preferred being called, was arguably the opposite of Emilia in terms of personality. Where Emma was short and assertive, Jess was lanky and rather withdrawn, although she seemed able to speak her mind when she deemed it important. Perhaps it had something to do with her darker skin color? Humans seemed to have an odd obsession with skin tones, as if they held any meaning beyond how effectively their bodies processed and resisted UV radiation. While it had never bothered Emma or the vessel, and especially not yourself for that matter, there were few with a similar appearance that went to the same school. Or perhaps it has nothing to do with such things. It isn't like you fully grasp human behavior, even after fifteen years of having experienced it yourself. If anything, you're more confused about it now than you had been before.
"H-hello?" A rather nervous sounding voice on the other end says. "This isn't another scam call, is it?"
"I don't think that I'm a scammer, although I guess that'd depend on your opinion." The vessel says, which was arguably true for yourself as well.
"Rachel!" She says, her voice brightening as she sighs with relief. "Happy Birthday! Wait, are you alright? I know you normally keep to yourself today, well, even more than usual, but-"
"I'm alright, Jess, but thank you for the concern." The vessel says in a rather neutral tone, but with a hint of thankfulness that might be easy to miss to those unfamiliar with it.
"I just can't help it sometimes. Between you, Emma and my little brother I swear I spend most of my day worrying in some way." She pauses. "Also, is there a reason you're calling on the landline again?"
You freeze. Oh, right. The move towards cellular devices had begun years ago, even before the vessel's birth, but it truly had become almost all consuming by this point. "I left my phone in my room, and I didn't think it would be an issue?" The vessel suggests awkwardly.
"At this point maybe I should save your number under that instead of your cell phone." She says with a hint of annoyance.
"Well, I was calling to see if you would like to come over. Perhaps watch a film or help one another with schoolwork, or something in that vein."
"I'd love to! Is Emma coming as well?"
"I told her there'd be pizza and cake and she immediately agreed."
"Yeah, that sounds about right." She says with a laugh. "Oh, and is your Dad home?"
"He should be getting back soon, I think. I don't think he's working on a case right now, but he doesn't really enjoy talking about the firm he works at very much." You have the vessel explain.
"You'd think they'd let him off for today." She says, and the image of her shaking her head in disbelief flashes through the vessel's mind, and intrudes into yours. "Well, I'll be over shortly, if that's alright with you."
"See you then." The vessel says as the call ends. The phone is placed back down, and you head back towards the vessel's room to grab its cellphone.
In truth, the main reason that you were so reluctant to use this thing was that it was much too tempting. The device had access to the internet, a repository of so much of the knowledge of human civilization that could be available at your (metaphorical) fingertips with simply a few presses on a touch screen. It was almost like an addiction in how easy it was so simply let oneself be swept away learning random things that had little actual useful applications. Previous excursions had assisted you in familiarizing yourself with many concepts that had not been properly transferred over into the body you inhabited. Unfortunately, the re-acquisition of even a small portion of the knowledge you desired would require a significant investment of time, to the point that it would likely mean neglecting all other aspects of the vessel's life. And while you do not particularly care for the vessel in and of itself, it nonetheless was what contained yourself, and the instinct for self-preservation was something that any life form would be familiar with.
Still, it was less tempting than using a computer, nor even mentioning computer games. While much on offer was bombastic action that hardly interested you, you remained tempted by the appeal of certain niche titles, such as those in the genre known as Grand Strategy. You stubbornly resisted it, of course, but the temptation remained all the same It was aso for that reason that the vessel's teachers were often very confused by the fact that it had continued turning in hand written assignments, but impressive enough hand-writing and excellent performance in class had kept them from acting on any annoyance they might have up to this point.
All it takes is the push of a few buttons within an application, and you now have a pizza being prepared for delivery. Ah, pizza. A flatbread prepared with the melted down curdled milk of a bovine and a sauce prepared with the fruits (although some seemed to view them as vegetables for some reason) of the Solanum lycopersicum mixed with fats and often seasonings. Often other things were added as well, or in some cases removed or replaced entirely. You had your doubts about the human experience, but the pleasures of eating are one of the few things that you would likely miss in some form, if you are even capable of recalling them. Of course, you wouldn't care at all by that point, but not caring itself is the goal in the end.
As you wait for everything to arrive, you first use the time to have the vessel take a quick shower and get properly dressed. While lounging around in one's sleepwear was understandable in privacy, it was rather rude to guests.
After that, you take the time to look around to see if you can figure out what that sensation from earlier was. After around fifteen minutes or so of searching, you can safely rule out anything hiding in the cabinets and pantry, as well as any of the rooms in the apartment. Strange. It doesn't exactly downplay your concerns, but it does mean that whatever it was, if it even was something at all, wasn't going to be easy to find. Was this a test of some kind, to see if you were still salvageable? Would the correct answer be to try and pursue, or to simply await whenever it was that a terminal came openly?
Your thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening amidst a conversation that had begun earlier.
"Don't worry too much about it, girls. While it would have been nice to get a heads up, I'm just happy that she has-" The vessel's father, carrying a pizza box with him, pauses upon seeing it, as two smaller figures dart around him to run up.
"Happy Birthday Rachel!" They both shout.
"Oh, thank you, both of you." The vessel says with only a small amount of awkward discomfort at the situation.
"Not to interrupt, but would you girls like to eat before this gets cold, or after?" The vessel's father chimes in, amused.
"Oh right." Emma says with a laugh, before grabbing the pizza box. "I call dibs!"
"Oh come on Emma, it's Rachel's birthday." Jess says with a roll of her eyes.
"Well. then maybe she should be quicker." She replies, before carrying the food over to the kitchen, followed shortly by Jess. You turn to look at the vessel's father, having taken a seat in one of the chair's in the front hall. The man looks utterly exhausted from his day, but he still manages to smile up at his daughter when he notices her gaze.
"Don't worry about me. Go and have fun with your friends." He says, trying to downplay his own situation. While the vessel remains concerned, it slowly nods before heading off to the kitchen, leaving the man alone with his own thoughts.
"And so then I said, 'Screw you' an-" Emma pauses as the vessel enters. "Oh hey Rachel!" She pauses to take a bit out of the slice of pizza on her plate.
"What're you two talking about?"
"She got into a fight with her brother. Again." Jess says, shaking her head, before she takes a bite of her own slice.
"What, he started it!!" Emma tries to say, but with her mouth full it comes out more as 'Whuh eh arded et.'
"Excuse me for doubting that." Jess says flatly.
"I'd have to agree, you usually do tend to cause it, Ms. Frustrating." The vessel says as it grabs a slice of pizza for itself. You resent the fact that it doing so actually pleases yourself somewhat as well.
"Oh, now even my friends are ganging up on me as well?" Emma says with mock horror, her voice intentionally pretentious. "What has the world come to where even those I hold dear would do such a thing?"
"Yes, I'm sure it's quite a tragedy for you." Jess says, although she can't hide the small smile on her face, especially not when Emma starts giggling. There are a few moment of silence, which are finally broken by the inevitable question.
"So, we're all here. We have food. What now?" Emma asks, clearly expecting the vessel, and by extension yourself, to make the decision.
[ ] Just relax. Grant the vessel some proper leisure. Let it talk with its fellows and enjoy the evening. It's not often that it can find a reason to be happy on this date.
[ ] Group study session. This will likely disappoint both of the vessel's acquaintances, especially Emilia, but it would still be the most efficient usage of time.
[ ] Movie night. If it's good enough, perhaps you could enjoy it as well, although you remain doubtful at the capabilities of human cinema.
[ ] Write in.
I am late. I apologize by offering a bigger post.
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