damned_institute | Day 24: Intercom, Dinner

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Day 24: Intercom, Dinner

The intercom jingle rang out both inside and outside the institute on speakers loud enough to broadcast clearly across the recreational field.

"It's been a busy day, hasn't it? Well, fortunately for all of us, it's nearly over, and we can all look forward to some rejuvenating shut-eye--that is, after dinner, of course."

The Head Doctor chuckled.

"Supper for tonight is going to consist of individual servings of chicken pot pie, with mashed potatoes and peas as sides. You may ask your nurse about the usual selection of drinks, and... Oh! Some of you might find that you have some new guests in your rooms belonging to... Group 5, I believe...? Please see to it that our new patients spend their first night at Landel's Institute as peacefully as possible!"

He paused, then added:

"Oh, and Nurse Hondor? Could you please report to my office? Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

[ OOC: Remember how dinner shift works--everyone posts to this post with individual threads for each room. New characters waking up during this shift will do so in their respective threads, though if your roommate's player is unable to play with you during your intro, feel free to work something out so that your roommate is taking a nap or something. XD; ]

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"Ah Gears are...well, perhaps I'll just return the favor and sketch one out for you." Citan decided that would perhaps be easiest than attempting to explain a Gear verbally without a reference.

"Ah, I am a doctor, if you'd like me to take a look at that cut. Those small ones can sting." Had HK-47 been able to process pain before this? How advanced was his technology? Citan took the pad and looked over the sketch, nodding to himself. He'd never seen anything quite like that. It was almost humanoid, but still alien. Almost like a very small Gear.

"And what power source was used?" he asked, his interest well and truly piqued. He wondered if he'd be able to make something similar....

"Negative: No, I can handle a small cut through the epidermis such as this." It did feel... bad. He supposed that was 'stinging'. It was pathetic that a wood pulp sheet could slice the skin.

"Statement: A high-class diatium power cell. It can provide power long after I expect I will cease functioning." Master had used only the best components, and he was so thankful for it. He would be nothing more than a protocol droid with a gun if she hadn't.

"Ah, but small cuts can get infected," Citan pointed out with a smile. "It's best to keep them clean and covered. Even germs that are in the air can get inside and into the blood, causing illness and more serious complications." Most often in Lahan, those had been the sort of ailments he treated. Infected cuts, allergies, seasonal illness...

He nodded as HK-47 spoke. "Diatium?" He wasn't familiar with that element.

Oh, by the Master he didn't want to consider that. "...Query: Is there anything you can do for it, then?" He hated the idea of infection. It was worse with humans than when droids got a virus- they got swollen and discolored and vomited and bled and... That can happen to me now, too! HK was now even more depressed.

"Explanation: Diatium is a fairly common mineral that is worked into the power cell as an extra source of energy. It is surrounded by complex circuitry to ensure optimal energy delivery," he stated without much of his normal, almost cheerful tone. The meatbag thing was really getting to him. "Of course, it is found in higher concentrations on certain planets. Your home planet may not have a large amount of it, or any at all."

"Let me see what's lying about. I don't seem to have my tools or my medical bag with me, but I've done more in worse conditions." A quick opening of the drawer revealed a pad of paper like the one HK-47 had, some pens, and little else. The other drawers held clothes - the same strange sort they were both wearing - and that was all.

"Well, it looks as though we're going to have make do." It was simple enough to rip off a strip of cloth and dip it in the cup of untouched water.

"Now, give me your hand. And as for diatum, I don't think my planet has it all. A pity, I'd be most interested in studying its properties. Unless of course we simply know it by some other name. That is a possibility."

HK held out the appendage. The cut was red, and the area around it had a little of the same tint. Disgusting.

"Statement: Possibly. Many terms may have a local derivation, in meatbag languages. Droids rarely have such a problem, but I doubt you would understand Binary." He hated vocalizing it, though. That was left for annoying little mobile trash compactors like T3-M4.

"Let's get this cleaned," he said, wiping at the bit of blood that surrounded the cut. "Keep it bandaged for a day or two and there shouldn't be any problems." After wiping it clean, Citan wrapped it with another small bit of cloth and tied it off snugly.

"There we are. Binary? Ah, the language of computers? I'm somewhat familiar with it. And I believe I promised you a sketch of a gear." Heimdal would be easiest - while not Fenrir, Heimdal had been a good Gear. He quickly sketched out a basic outline of the Gear, with measurements for scale.

"Here (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v197/ladyfeylene/Lust%20Caps/heim.jpg) we are. They're very large, as you can see, and used as a combination vehicle, weapon and tool." He extended the drawing to HK. It was hardly as intricate as could be, but for a quick sketch it showed the proper shape and detail.

HK examined the bandaged finger. "Gratitude: Thank you, meatbag." ...He couldn't make it a complete positive statement, after all.

"Explanation: Binary can be vocalized by droids by use of specific tones, most commonly compared to whistles." He still had his vocal mimic functions, didn't he? Maybe this would work. "Statement: I will attempt to replicate it, although human vocal chords are not suited for the language." He blinked a few times before opening his mouth and releasing several trilling whistles and whines, in near-perfect replication of the noises most often heard form Astromechs. "[Statement: For your information, meatbag, this is droidspeak. Your puny cognitive processors are ill equipped to comprehend it.]" He coughed slightly upon finishing the statement- it had made his vocal cords itch, somehow. "Discontented: That was much more difficult to vocalize than it should have been."

HK took the pad. "Statement: It looks similar to an LB-1 loading droid." A fifth-degree intelligence. But he wasn't going to mention that aloud. "Some meatbag cultures I have encountered construct equivalents to this."

"Ah, I'm afraid I didn't understand that," Citan admitted, wincing some at the sounds. He ignored the thanks that wasn't really a thanks, it didn't matter to him.

"We just call them Gears - though each Gear has a specific name. They're used for a variety of functions in different parts of the world, though mostly for military purposes. Quite useful, really. We have smaller mechanical constructs as well, for repairing and tending to Gears and for functions such as loading and transporting goods. As well as many large vehicles for transport of people."

HK managed to keep his smirk out of his eyes-his expression never changed, anyway. "Explanation: It was simply an example sentence. Most droids have full capacity to speak one meatbag language at the least, but many maintenance and related droids only vocalize in Binary."

"Query: What are their capabilities in terms of combat?" HK was always curious to learn about a culture's ability to fight back, should he ever encounter them on an assassination mission. "Statement: Most of those you listed would be referred to as droids, by intergalactic standards. A droid is defined a mechanical being with a self-aware consciousness, as distinguished from a computer by having a self-contained method of locomotion. There are different levels of intelligence and consciousness, rated in degrees from one to five." Most droids were nothing more than class four or five drones. They made for incredibly boring conversation and destruction.

"Gears actually aren't self-aware, nor are most of our mechanical creations. Some droids are and... a few other things, but it certainly isn't normal." Not exactly, anyway. But really, that wasn't something Citan was going to discuss. What would a simple country doctor know of the technologies of Shevat or Solaris?

"For combat, it truly depends on the Gear and the pilot. The more advanced Gears are forces to be reckoned with, capable of taking out large ships. I've seen them do quite a bit of damage when engaged in altercations." He shrugged. "They're powerful machines." He wasn't going to say more. His own Fenrir was weapon of mass destruction, even before exposure. Weltall had been... well. He had seen what Weltall could do, when in the hands of Id. To another man, the destruction could well have been staggering.

"Most of our technology relies on computers," he added, as an afterthought.

"Statement: Ah. Once a mechanical being is not considered self-aware, it is merely a robot." That word had been derived long ago from a term for servant or slave. HK found it distasteful. And any that referred to him as such found out just how offended he was by the term.

He had no idea what scale a 'large ship' was on, but Sith Interdictor ships were 600 meters in length. He was unsure, but he doubted that planet-bound meatbags would construct something that large. "Statement: The level of technology on your planet seems oddly advanced for one that has no space travel."

"Most of our technology is actually very old, and has only recently been rediscovered," Citan explained. "Our ancestors had space travel and a great many other wonders that we're only excavating now." As far as the surface was concerned. He supposed he didn't need this veil of secrecy, but it was so much easier.

And he never knew when something would be used against him. "Perhaps someday we'll return to the stars once more."

"Statement: At least you are aware of the history of your population. Many meatbags from the planet 'Earth' here are unaware that the origins of the human species are not on their planet. Or maybe they are. There has been much confusing discussion of different time periods and alternate versions of events." The human species was generally acknowledged as originating on Coruscant as the Zhell, in conflict with the Taung, and were at some point moved by the 'Architects' to several systems, including Corellia. He had no idea where 'Earth' lay in the galaxy. Perhaps it was an old name for Coruscant. Maybe not. The humans from 'Earth' never mentioned anything like the Taung.

"Extrapolation: Unless your population destroys itself--as many meatbag societies do--it is probable."

"Ah, yes, we're aware we didn't originate on our planet." For the most part. It was rather horribly confusing anyway. Best to just leave an explanation to the bare minimum.

"Alternate timelines? Interesting. There have always been theories, of course, regarding the fluidity of time and consequences of actions... perhaps there's some merit to it after all. The What If Theory. it at least bears some thought and research, I suppose. Have you spoken with many people who offer alternating timelines and events?"

"Negative: No, I have merely read messages left by meatbags on a board in the 'Sun Room'." Which didn't actually contain a sun. Why couldn't meatbags just name things sensibly? "There was one group of messages between Earth natives regarding the time of their arrival. 26 meatbags responded with a span of 197 years recorded, going by the local count of 1832 to 2021, with most listing the year as between 2005 and 2009." He had been inclined to believe they were insane, but what with the Mandalorian's confusing statements earlier...

"Statement: Whether it is true or not, this facility is obviously more advanced than it appears to be. No process I am aware of could transfer a droid's personality core into a meatbag brain."

"I agree with you," Citan said, nodding. "Despite what this room would have us believe, to be able to transfer a conciousness... well, that would take technology far superior to what's displayed here!" This level of technology was on par with the larger cities in Aveh and Kislev, but that was all. He suspected the asylum's true powers were somewhere more along the lines of Solaris. After all, the transfer of conciousness had been done there - though flesh to machine, rather than machine to flesh.

"What is the rest of the building like?" HK-47 was turning out to be a remarkable source of information. Idly, Citan began jotting down a few notes on the pad of paper.

"Statement: I have only seen the interior of a few rooms, but they all keep the same facade of primitive technology." HK took his writing pad and drew out a few lines in a map, detailing the areas he had seen. "I was too shocked to find myself in this meatbag body to observe the corridors branching from those I was sent through."

He handed the pad once again to the meatbag. "The largest area shown is an outdoor area with vegetation designed for meatbag enjoyment. The two connected rooms are the Sun Room and cafeteria. This room is here," He pointed to a square on the map, "designated M64." He should have paid more attention to the surroundings, but he was telling the truth- he had been so stunned for his first period of time here that he had not thought to observe the area.

"M64? Well, that says there are at least 63 other rooms. I'd assume cells such as this one." Citan studied the map. "Obviously this is designed to sustain us for a great length of time. And from your narration, I would assume there are a number of other prisoners here as well. My wife's going to start wondering what's happened to me if I'm gone too long." Not that he was worried, Yui was more than capable of taking care of herself and Midori.

"I assume there are guards? What sort of forces do we have to contend with?"

"Statement: The only guards I have seen are the female meatbags that delivered the food items and lead prisoners through the facility, and larger male counterparts, which step in to immobilize those that show aggressive behavior so that they may be sedated by the females. They carry no weapons." Which was incredibly stupid, in his opinion, but there always seemed to be enough of the large males in each area to thoroughly incapacitate unruly meatbags.

"After night falls, there have been mention of 'monsters' that attack prisoners. I have heard no specifics as to their capabilities." In his droid chassis, he had aided his Master in terminating several Tarentateks. Whatever meatbags attacked during the night, he doubted they could be as intimidating. Of course, all that had happened before this morning, and the meatbag body.

"No weapons?" Citan blinked. "Then how on earth do the subdue escape attempts?" That just seemed strange. If there were a number of prisoners, there needed to be some strong force to keep them trapped during the day. Large men and sedation hardly seemed like it would be enough.

"What manner of monsters?" Citan had dealt with his share of 'monsters'. And created his fair share, as well.

"Statement: Prisoners seem too fractious and self-absorbed to coordinate a mass revolt." He was used to working alone, but it did puzzle him why so many were here and did not attempt escape. "It may be related to the common meatbag reaction of submissiveness when faced with a smaller but apparently more powerful force."

"Repetition: I have heard no specifics as to their capabilities," HK said, annoyance tinging the sentence. "They are only released at night, and I booted up here this morning."

"A sheep mentality. And the more prisoners there are who don't revolt, the more likely that newer prisoners will see this and fall into the same pattern." Citan adjusted his glasses and tapped his chin with a finger, thinking. He wondered if Fei was about - he was usually involved in these sorts of things. At the center, even. And... Citan had to admit that he had relied on the boy quite a bit to get out of difficult situations.

"I suppose we'll find out when the monsters come out, then."

HK had never heard of 'sheep', but it seemed like 'nerf'. "Statement: Too many meatbags rely on their social unit to make decisions, and too many meatbags within the social unit are unwilling to even calculate the risks of going against an authority. It is pathetic."

The meatbag's last statement reminded him. He had none of his weapons here. This could be problematic.

"Well, humans are strange creatures when it comes to individuality and group mentalities. As much as they strive for independance, they remain tied to a group ideal. It's contradictory and illogical, but that is human nature for you." Citan leaned back in his chair, still thoughtful. It was easy enough to herd a flock of sheep, if need be.

"I wonder how much a risk it would be to go after our rather ill-equipped guards... or if there's another route to be taken to freedom."

Planning escapes was something of a specialty of Citan's.

Day 24: Intercom, Dinner

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