Scene #9402: Malfeasance of the Minds

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Foundation Scions	LSCC Department of Administrative Resources >Occupational Health, Safety, and Disaster Survival Training Part IV: Structural Fire Response In order to begin the training program, click tongue three times while imagining the sourness of blueberries. To reset program parameters, form a fist and say the first three constellations that come to mind. To run program in diagnostic mode... ----- "Did you already check the extinguisher's pin?" Her hand in a brace, even within the Artificial Somnambulism simulation, Mesmer Jr. awkwardly props a clipboard of the program's script against her hip. She hasn't made any excuse for the blatant injury. "Small details decay the fastest. If a trainee doesn't know about that mechanism, then I suppose we'd be the ones to blame for Laplace burning down." Deadpan, only looking Vertin's way enough to point to the indicated fire extinguisher with her pen, the sour tone to the technician's voice isn't at all from worry over consequences. "If they're present, that's surely enough. The electrical cabling turning into snakes is another matter entirely. I hope it's fully isolated, but... well. You won't have to be the one to fix it, so there's no point whining your way." The simulation itself takes a feels-real-enough-to-forget likeness to the halls of Laplace's complex, chrome and linoleum, with a few periodically-emerging fires of various sorts, and helpful prompts in order to run through the process of putting them out. Devoid of other individuals, a fire alarm blares (silently, for their sakes) on and on about an active chemical blaze that flickers on a static loop, paused from growing larger atop a lab bench covered in shattered glassware. Mesmer Jr. has found a spot to lean, up against a separate lab setup, to preserve a slight bit of effort despite being fully within a dream, no doubt far more displeased than the former friend she's tasked with watching over. "So. Is this your second to last week of remediation? Or have you managed to pick up more charges?" Level-tone, as if she's asking about the weather. "Not that there's a betting pool. Idle curiosity."
Timekeeper	Vertin has never once complained about now-month of chores they've been given to do as punishment. It's likely to some people's frustration that there's not even seemingly any variation in their preference for any given task. Attentive through disciplinary meetings, prompt and timely with reports, and diligent with custodial duty in Laplace, it's difficult to find anything to complain about with the Timekeeper's penance. But, of course, most of Vertin's overseers aren't Mesmer Jr. Even Vertin couldn't conceal a flash of surprise at seeing her waiting for them before entering the simulation, but up until now, they've just been obediently following through on instructions, with hardly a word besides affirmative or negative call and response. Their typical impenetable demeanor is weakened by Mesmer's mere presence, though, so it's only a matter of time. While checking over the fire extinguisher at Mesmer's command, they commit the unforgivable sin of allowing their eyes to stray to the side for a moment and get a glimpse of her. Here, in the Artificial Somnambulism simulation, Vertin's hat has somehow regenerated itself despite being taken off for her head to be able to fit into the helmet-- so there's still only one eye visible. "Got it." After a double check, they wait for Mesmer's confirmation, and then pull the pin and aim the extinguisher towards the fire. Upon ascertaining that it's foam that comes out, not anything else, and that it suppresses the fire rather than aggravates it, they put the extinguisher back on its hook. "Fourth to last. I was assigned an extended punishment after my recent meeting with Madam Z about Sonetto's report." About the Watch, implicitly. Vertin raises up their face to scan the pop-up text for typos or unreadable letters, hand on their hat. "But to be precise, I haven't broken any more rules, no." Without any wind-up, they say, "Did something happen with Lilian?"
Foundation Scions	'I was assigned an extended punishment after my recent meeting with Madam Z about Sonetto's report.' Mesmer huffs. "I'm almost surprised. Do they not see that you fit in around miscreants of that group's ilk? Oh, or perhaps they were hoping a gentler hand might be enough to make you go against your nature." They both know that's not it, Mesmer just needs to snip. As Vertin works, she skims and checkmarks items on her list, one by one. The motion is awkward- Mesmer Jr. isn't left handed. "Good. The extinguisher's working. Next is..." The environment changes, though the distinction between standing in the lab, and sitting in the seats of a wood-paneled lecture hall is indistinct. "Emergency evacuations. Are the exit signs marked?" They are- but in the blink of an eye, instead of pausing and displaying instructions, the room erupts into (thanks to the diagnostic settings, heatless) flame. Mesmer Jr. grimaces. "Timing's off. That won't do. You saw where the exits were..? Go test them. They need to open, which means they need doorknobs, and they need to lead outside, not back in, not anywhere else. If you find yourself in a recursive hallway, you'll surely remember to hold your breath and tense your shoulders to disengage." 'Did something happen with Lilian?' There are a myriad of answers to such a question that don't immediately draw undue suspicion- Mesmer's instinctive glance towards her hand brace isn't one of them. "What put that thought into your head? Were wasting time listening to that radio line?" Eyes narrow, before Mesmer sticks them back towards her clipboard. "If it was while you were supposed to be working on those four more weeks, I'll have to report that." Lit up orange from the flame-filled lecture hall, Mesmer exhales, a long, slow breath. "And it isn't your business. Your business is running along to check the exits."
Timekeeper	"Do they not see you fit in around miscreants of that group's ilk?" "I don't believe they've given it quite that much thought." Uncharacteristically honest and passive aggressive for Vertin, but they are genuinely irritated about how slow the Foundation higher-ups have been with cottoning on to her line of thinking. Of course they'd be slow and obstinate-- that's bureaucracy-- but the gradually-building stress meter that fills when being restrained from doing as much good as they want to was a significant factor in why they ended up with the Watch at all. Blink and you'll miss it, though. There's no sign on their face that they're bothered, when they lift up their head to examine the emergency infrastructre in the lecture hall. "What put that thought into your head? Were wasting time listening to that radio line?" "No." Vertin pauses on the last stair to the base of the lecture hall, eyes slanting down towards the brace. "I was warned, in abstract terms, that something Lilian did was going to impact you soon. Something to do with luck and curses, I'm told." "If you'd broken your fingers during work at Laplace, you'd likely have been given time off rather than different tasks, wouldn't you?" They're not just going to linger and ruin their metrics on completing chores quickly and obediently, though. Whether or not Mesmer responds immediately, Vertin walks through the flames to test the exit doors, poking her head into the hallways.
Foundation Scions	'I don't believe they've given it quite that much thought.' Mesmer's eyes narrow. "Mind yourself for once. I have to report on your sentiments and attitude, not only performance. I can't hope that will make you learn your lesson, but I, at least, will follow my instructions if you mouth off." It's not like she disagrees- but Vertin can't say that! She's reckless, irrational, and what's more, technically underneath Mesmer Jr.'s oversight right now! That means Mesmer basically has to try and rub it in. 'I was warned, in abstract terms, that something Lilian did was going to impact you soon.' Mesmer doesn't respond to Vertin's questions immediately- she, too, wants to be done with this task, even if she's onyl supervising. One of the exits that Vertin tests, on first inspection, doesn't have any way to open it- it isn't locked, but there isn't a knob or pushbar. On second inspection, there is- an inconsistent blip is harder to find and harder to fix. Mesmer sighs when it's pointed out. "Stop- don't go through that. If it's readjusting itself based upon your own expectations, anything could be on the other side. Nightmares, anxieties... It's a good thing this recording was taken out of commission when it was. No, this won't do, this won't do at all..." Before taking note of it, Mesmer stands, visibly irritated, and almost raises up her injured hand- only to substitute her left at the last second, in order to bite at her thumbnail. At least here, it won't damage the keratin. "Dangerous lack of material sourcing constraints, unbound schemas... Vertin, you'll be excused after we're done with this simulation- I'm sure you can complete the remaining hours another day, but I'll have to take a closer look at the fundamentals of this recording. My apologies." She's only offering that grace their way because of fixing her ire on someone else- whoever last maintained or updated the program. From the outside, such little discrepancies don't seem too worth her decay in mood, grumpy to angry. Circling back to Vertin's questioning, "You shouldn't believe everything you hear. Luck isn't real, and if it was, mine has been perfectly standard lately." Aside from an accidental fall? Mesmer Jr. isn't one to be stoic the same way Vertin is, so there's no simple guess as to why she's evading. "If I wanted vacation time, I could have pressed for it. Hard work keeps you sane, though I'm not sure you've ever understood that motto. And, depriving Laplace of my skills is a recipe for disaster. Just look at what they do without my oversight." She gestures, loosely, at the atrophy in this Artificial Somnambulism program. God it's obvious that Mesmer wants the vacation time soooo bad, and she tooootally didn't break her fingers on Laplace grounds.
Timekeeper	"I can't hope that will make you learn your lesson, but I, at least, will follow my instructions if you mouth off." "Of course." Well, that's just how it goes. It's not even accurate to say that Vertin 'should have known'-- it's not a surprising response at all coming from Mesmer. The topic of conversation is discarded without another word, left cold and still in the heatless flames. "Vertin, you'll be excused after we're done with this simulation- . . . My apologies." Vertin drops their hand from the door without complaint. Neither Mesmer's workaholic fretting nor her incidental apology need to be remarked on or particularly taken to heart. In Vertin's perspective, it does generally seem like Mesmer is best off when fixated on (bloodless) work, and restating their own presence can only distract from that. Not that they've really had a chance to talk to her one on one in... however many years. Vertin's attention slips, wandering back to the four of them. It was only several months ago that they began talking with Sonetto again, and soon after, Matilda and Mesmer were assigned to the FDMO-- it's not a coincidence for it to be those four reconvening after all these years, they know, but it still feels... significant somehow. She's sure that none of them have talked to any of the others about what happened back then-- she certainly hasn't-- but now, after that last shared event in school, they're all adults, grown into their roles, talking nearly daily, and... what? What's changed? Outside the fire escape door is an air raid tunnel. Vertin dips the brim of their hat down over their eyes and clears their mind. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear." "I made an assumption based off of several different clues I heard, not just the one. And from our time knowing each other, I'm inclined to give Lilian's words a second thought, whether they mean quite what she says or not. I won't claim I know precisely what happened." Vertin folds their arms across their chest and meets Mesmer's eyes, steady even while she's gesturing around. "Are you in any kind of danger, Mesmer?"
Foundation Scions	'I made an assumption based off of several different clues I heard, not just the one.' Snark trigger still half-pulled and ready to refire, "Doubly so, I'd have hoped you of all people would be more skeptical of your 'intuition', Vertin." She huffs- perhaps momentarily guilty at her words, but taking no action in the slightest to undo them. "She and I don't get along- so if you need to practice your skepticism, whatever she's said to you is a good place to start. Curses? Really?" Ah, so she's doubling down. there's an increasing decoherence to the program's fluctuations." Mesmer speaks before actually checking the instruments she's holding, as if the they'd be able to confirm better than the arcane technique they're modelled after. Still, Vertin can overhear chaotic beeping, and hissed-through-teeth frustrated breaths from their supervisor. "For the last segment, we may need to let it play out without arresting the program for diagnostics. Something is very wrong, a misformatting somewhere that is leaking through even with functions paused. We can't sit by and let it strain the system and ourselves- we'll advance it once you've confirmed your five senses are coherent. Sound off, Vertin?" 'Are you in any kind of danger, Mesmer?' "I shouldn't dignify the notion with a response," She says, doing just so. "Of course I'm not. Barring the expected occupational hazards, Laplace is an exceptionally safe place to be. You'd know better than I how much more stable things are here, than everywhere else." Once Vertin has repeated off Mesmer's requested baseline check of cognitive function, with clipboard still in hand, the scene changes again- fire exits falling away, no matter how frayed-at-the-edges and feeding off of thoughts they were, and the burning lecture hall blinks out like a CRT television's power switch fuzzy-click. Taking its place, Mesmer and Vertin find themselves in a simulation of a normal classroom, paper quizzes in front of themselves as the last training step of the simulation: to answer questions and write essays about what was learned. Who put this inside the simulation? "Hm." The paper on Vertin's desk in front of her seems wrong, formatting questions incorrectly, even those for the name or the date, drawing from topical thoughts and unrelated subjects, and just wholly not about fire safety. By Mesmer's reaction to the one in front of her, hers must too- Perfect Score Required for Completion Certificate Section One: Multiple Choice - Choose Only the Best Answer 1. What is your name? a) Mesmer Jr. b) The Mesmer c) Mesmer d) Junior 2. What happened to your- Mesmer crumples the test up- and an error message flashes in front of her. By the calmness to her voice, Vertin can tell that she's gone from grouchy, to irritated, to angry, all the way now to furious. "This entire simulation is a write-off, Vertin. What an unfortunate hassle."
Timekeeper	"Doubly so, I'd have hoped you of all people would be more skeptical of your 'intuition', Vertin." "Mm." If Vertin winces at that dig, then it's not visible on their face. They've never seen the use in bristling up in response to Mesmer especially, which must be part of why they're so frustrating to talk to. Their vague noise of either agreement or denial is their only response while Mesmer checks her arcane implements, until putting their thoughts together enough to elaborate. "I've miscommunicated, I think. I didn't mean to imply that I trust everything Lilian says as it comes out of her mouth. The curse, as she said it, was very likely a joke, but she was quite serious in its application to you." This is basically nothing besides retrying a dialogue tree for the third time to see if some reframing of it is more likely to get through to Mesmer, but Vertin doggedly persists through it. "I'm not here to interrogate you on her behalf. Lilian is among the most influential Elites in our part of the multiverse. The Foundation will, by necessity, be interested in her and each of our rapports with her, and it's quite likely that there will be people discussing it in a professional capacity that haven't even met you. You're familiar with how it is for yourself-- Lilian and the Paladins will compound that dramatically." "Whatever's caused your row with her, others will notice sooner or later, and that's not to mention Lilian herself." That's as far as Vertin's willing to press for now, so they shake their head to dispel their more serious stance. "Though I believe her fiancee dabbles in arcane curses, besides." "Barring the expected occupational hazards, Laplace is an exceptionally safe place to be." "You're not only associated with Laplace anymore," Vertin points out. There's a prompt to elaborate further on the nature of being a focal political girl of the Foundation specifically, something that the Timekeeper is very well acquainted with, but she lets it drop without comment. Some other day. "Sound off, Vertin?" "Taste ash; smell smoke, mildly; feel the floor under my feet and the desk behind my back; hear fire burning and speech; see..." She trails off for a moment. "Red. And orange. I'm well enough." When the scene shifts, Vertin obediently sits down at her desk. Rotely, she announces her course of action, well-learned after weeks of doing maintenance on other simulations, before even looking at the paper in front of her. "I'll look for common mispellings, word replacements, logically consistent answers... ah." Vertin's eyes finally drop down to read the paper, and the words on it melt and morph into different arrangements of letters like the numbers of a ferrofluid clock. Hers only uses the fire as a framing device, spilling out questions broken in their basic format and loosely related by topic: who should you save when the fire breaks out? Who can you trust to extinguish it? Why were you in that room in the first place? It's a small part of the humiliation of these chores given to her by the Foundation, that it's Vertin's own mind most often at risk of influencing a weakened simulation. In some ways, Mesmer is the person Vertin most prefers to have supervising this task, and in other ways, Mesmer is the one Vertin would least like to be here with her. It's a statement, loud and clear, that this is what Mesmer was assigned to do, when coming back with a mysterious broken finger and an incomplete report. "... Right. I'll make up the hours later. Thanks for your time, Mesmer."