meadowlark | @stephen.strange | via morningstar network, a couple of days after cassius' post

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@stephen.strange | via morningstar network, a couple of days after cassius' post

[ It isn't real. That's a fact upon a fact: none of it is real, but this even less so.

Usually, knowledge matters. It had for a while here too. Taken him from staggering frantically down part-collapsed tunnels over obstacles whose names he didn't know, calls giving way to bellows, in search first of life and then just of obstacles whose names he did know— to sitting quietly, raking thick air into his lungs, body too beleaguered to be good for more than waiting for the day to end.

And eventually he'd slept. And the day did end. And when he woke and turned on his flashlight to gear himself up for greeting the millions who ought now to be staggering back down into the tunnels, fresh from their reset - he'd found them exactly where he'd left them.

This will not be ending soon. This will not be over until somebody makes it so. But his thoughts won't be gathered into shape. The wall at his back is still hot from the blast. The air is cloying. His skin sloughs under his touch.

The quiet is too heavy. He needs the reminder. ]

Talk to me
Please

[ ooc: for those in the sim, none of the things described in the above brackets will be visible to anyone but him, but Stephen will have been seen by some about half a day before this post searching haphazardly around the tunnels, calling both in general and then specifically for people, then staring very intently with varying expressions of grim hopelessness at patches of nothing, and eventually giving that up for sitting very quietly on the ground in a tunnel somewhere. He's non-responsive to attempts to interact with him throughout and wouldn't previously have been replying to any attempts to contact him via the network either.

Feel free to assume your character has spotted him or been aggressively bumped into by him or heard about him being Weird, or on the flipside to have no idea he's been acting like he's having a really bad trip. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Unfortunately for the AI PR team, that description matches more than one of them. But yes. Our current host.

And on the contrary, he's rewarding my diligence with a private room.

[ More on that later. ]

The experiments weren't just part of a re-enactment, he was learning. Now he knows how to refine his interaction with our implants and stimulate various brain function with greater precision. Hence the effects you're experiencing.

[ Long and short: I done fucked up. ]

Okay so it SOUNDS like you're expecting that to be some Big Reveal. Cue the dramatic music and all that.

Why do you think I signed up for all those supply runs in the first place, even after I got captured the first time? It ain't just because of suicidal overconfidence, boss. I was learning too. One lab experiment at a time.

If you've learned anything worth knowing I'd share it with the class before your situation worsens. What I've learned doing the same thing hasn't put me in any position to be of use.

[Well that certainly sounds... ominous.]

The heck does THAT mean, doc? Matter of fact, where are you right now?

Somewhere in the underground experiencing a nuclear apocalypse.

[ Thanks Judas. ]

[...Shit.]

You wanna be a little more specific? I don't think anything comes up on the GPS with that.

Not too far from the supply run gathering point.

I'll be there in a bit. Don't move, okay?

[This'd be so much easier if he had his fucking teleporter.]

No risk of that.

[ He's just about worn himself out. ]

[Despite Stephen's instructions, it takes Wade a while to find the place. It's hard to navigate among the dark and dank tunnels and the sources of light they've jury-rigged together are pretty shitty and not very reliable. Nearly five minutes of wandering around later, Wade finally spots his employer slouched against a wall. Wade approaches him almost sheepishly.]

Sorry. Thought you meant that other network of tunnels you were currently wasting away in.

[ There's no sign of acknowledgement as Wade makes his way down the tunnel. None as he approaches, close enough that he's impossible not to have noticed. Not even when he speaks.

The most that happens is Stephen reaches up to wipe at a fresh nosebleed, tap weakly at the warm liquid transferred to his hand to confirm its existence, then slump back with a vague huff that might be laughter. ]

[Even in the dim light, Wade can clearly see that the good doctor isn't doing so hot. His skin has gone pale and clammy with illness, marred in spots by ugly, weeping sores. His eyes seem unfocused, the pupils barely retracting even when Wade guides the light from the flashlight closer to get a better look.

He looks like Wade did a long time ago, suffering from the final stages of cancer with no relief in sight save for a slow, lingering death.

Wade draws in a breath of stale, stagnant air; lets it out slowly. He drops to one knee beside the other man and huffs out a laugh of his own. There's no humor in that sound.]

'f you don't mind me sayin' so, doc... you look like shit.

[ But still— nothing. Stephen shows no recognition that he isn't alone, there's no tension in his face of the kind that might indicate he's playing a prank or ignoring Wade intentionally. He stares out at the empty darkness, acrid stench of steady decay thick in his nostrils, and sees nothing aside from shifting particles of debris dust in the air.

Until, at least, the light shifts. It's only slight, he senses the shift more than he sees it: the darkness somehow gets thicker. There's barely any light here, but his eyes are reacting to something.

Finally, his chin shifts. His head turns toward Wade only incidentally, but it's the first sign he's given of any alertness. ]

Hello?

[...Okay, so that's really not a good sign. Wade had chalked up Stephen's lack of response to his remark as yet another example of someone ignoring his jokes, but the vacant way he glances towards Wade (not at him, which is worrying enough on its own) is enough indication that there's something else at play here. Wade slowly passes his hand in front of Stephen's vision, checking for a reaction.]

Doc? It's me, Wade. We were texting a few minutes ago, remember? Can you see me?

[ No, nothing. The tunnel's just as empty as it was. Letting out a breath, he lets his eyes slide closed and his head lean back against the wall.

The silence is a little deafening. He sends a quick message to check up on his visitor. ]

Did you get lost?

[The message pings and Wade blinks in alarm, reading it a few times with increasing concern. This is not normal-- even if Stephen was somehow blind and deaf he'd still probably be able to feel Wade's presence, right?]

I'm standing right in front of you. What's going on?

[ Oh. Well, that explains that. There's a shift in him, pulling himself up a little straighter, subtle changes in posture and expression to try to look a little less concerning. ]

Like I said. Private room.

[ Nobody gets in or out, no matter how close they're standing. ]

I have my own simulation within yours.

[...sphincter says what?]

What does that mean? Explain it to me like I'm five.

I can't see or hear you. As far as my senses are concerned, I'm on my own in the aftermath of a nuclear explosion that to the best of my understanding hasn't, in the wider shared virtual reality, happened.

[Wade is definitely not nerdy enough to understand this weird sci-fi bullshit. Of all the times Weasel wasn't around...]

So you're saying what? Like a show within a show kind of thing? Some Inception shit or something? Simulception?

[Is that even possible? Moreover, how was he still able to see Stephen? Did that mean that all the simulations weren't really real and they were all just wandering around New Amsterdam in a stupor? Or plugged into the Matrix?

This concept is making his head hurt, so he decides to switch to a simpler question.]

What if I touched you? Can you feel that?

[He reaches out to grasp Stephen by the shoulder.]

[ He's silent for a moment, expression stiffening with concentration, waiting. There's some delayed feedback, the sim's altered coding tweaking at his brain in an effort to change his reality— but touch is a little harder to fold into his solitary experience than other senses. And with no other stimulus crafted for his brain to attribute it to, Stephen finally feels the pressure of a hand.

A slow, staggered breath in. He nods. Finally comes out with— ]

Yeah.

[Well then. At least Stephen's not totally cut off from the outside world. Still, the idea of being suddenly trapped in that sort of situation-- like a virtual sensory deprivation tank-- causes a chill to go up Wade's spine. He sinks down next to Stephen with a sigh.]

You said Judas did this to you? How? Why?

[Sitting together texting each other like this, they probably look for all the world like two stereotypical technophobes, more comfortable conversing through a phone screen than engaging face-to-face.]

He has control of my implant. It can't be hard for an AI to personalize the experience.

[ As for the why, Stephen huffs a humourless laugh. It splutters slightly in his chest. ]

To spite me, at a guess.

...shit.

[It comes out involuntarily, even though he knows Stephen can't hear it. Capturing and torturing people is one thing, but messing with their brain? Forcibly changing their perceptions of reality to isolate them? That's a whole other thing altogether, and Wade can't say it's the first time he's heard of such a phenomenon-- or even that he hasn't experienced it before.]

So what's the next step? How do we get you out of there? Back to the real world, I mean?

[ More questions. Stephen tries taking steady breaths to clear his head, to push away the oppressive weight of the dark stillness he sits in. But the air is thick with radioactive dust - with, his mind helpfully if inaccurately supplies, the final breaths of millions. ]

I've been back to the real world, briefly. It's not a viable exit strategy. There's no long term solution until somebody breaks the simulation.

private forever

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