Qubit (![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superposition) wrote in ![[community profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2015-08-07 03:01 pm
superposition) wrote in maskormenacelogs2015-08-07 03:01 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Qubit and anybody!
WHERE: De Chima #003 and elsewhere
WHEN: First week or so of August
WHAT: A new guy settles in, where by "settles in" I mean "immediately starts making a mess."
WARNINGS: none known!
A. De Chima #003 : Interior (closed to roommates)
The first night, it was all Qubit could do not to collapse the second he came in range of a bed. A "long day" didn't begin to describe it. He ached all over, his head was pounding, and yet... there was no way he could just pass out like this. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tony's withered face, sunken eyes glaring up at him - hateful, wretched, for the first time weak. And when he opened them, he heard the echo of Modeus laughing at him in Bette's voice.
By now it was dark out. What with having jumped from evening back into morning, he must have been up for well over 24 hours already. But he couldn't sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to, not with so much work still to do.
He knew as soon as he walked in that the house they'd sent him to wasn't vacant. But getting to know whoever else was staying here wasn't high on his list of priorities at the moment. If Modeus was around, Qubit would almost definitely be his first target, and he'd rather not make it easy on him. He might be able to rig the house's wiring into a makeshift perimeter alarm, but he'd need a control panel for that at the very least, and ...
... and there was a blender in the kitchen. "Ahh, you'll do nicely."
So, yeah, residents of #003, there's a strange man in your kitchen telekinetically taking apart your nonessential appliances and reassembling them into things that are very much not kitchen appliances. Also, his eyes and hands are glowing bluish-green whilst he does this. Hope you didn't need that crockpot.
B. De Chima Neighborhood (open)
Over the next few days, Qubit was in and out a lot. He'd wasted no time throwing a proverbial armful of irons into the fire - secure the house, look for Modeus, locate the army's Porter, build his own Porter, make a better computer, find a good source of scrap, keep an eye out for anything suspicious ... Realistically, it was probably more projects than he ought to take on at once, but it felt as if a sort of mad restlessness had taken hold of him and wouldn't let go. And occasionally, when he caught a glimpse of his reflection, startled himself with the haggard, half-frenzied look in his own eyes, he wondered if maybe its grip wasn't the only thing holding him together.
But it wasn't as if he could stop. His own Earth needed him. No - strike that, Earth could probably do with a bit less of him. But Kaidan and Gil needed him. He was the closest thing they had to a leader, his embryonic ideas the closest thing they had to a plan. Of course they were more than capable of fending for themselves, but he knew Kaidan, she'd never settle for fending. She'd do everything in her considerable power to help, and more, if she could manage it. Really, she was the least alone out of any of them, but he couldn't help worrying all the same.
He spent a considerable amount of time away from the house, at least in absolute terms, but mainly in spurts of an hour or two throughout the day. In between, there were ample opportunities to catch him porting in and out, and he wasn't really bothering to be surreptitious about it.
His teleportals, not exactly engineered for stealth, glowed bright blue and made a distinctive humming noise whenever they were open. Sometimes Qubit came through with nothing, sometimes with a few scraps of broken technology that he'd toss into the shed, and once or twice he got lucky with an armful. But so far he'd had slim pickings...
C. near any of the Porter cities (open)
... which was why he was surveying junkyards. And scrapyards, and the occasional garbage dump.
Sometimes he'd be scanning the area with a tricorder-sized device he'd whipped up for that purpose the other day; other times, poking around in the midst of it, trying to find something that hadn't already been stripped for copper and such; but more often a combination of the two.
So, if you were the kind of person who liked to hang around junk- and/or scrapyards, there'd be a pretty good chance of running into him there.
WHERE: De Chima #003 and elsewhere
WHEN: First week or so of August
WHAT: A new guy settles in, where by "settles in" I mean "immediately starts making a mess."
WARNINGS: none known!
A. De Chima #003 : Interior (closed to roommates)
The first night, it was all Qubit could do not to collapse the second he came in range of a bed. A "long day" didn't begin to describe it. He ached all over, his head was pounding, and yet... there was no way he could just pass out like this. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tony's withered face, sunken eyes glaring up at him - hateful, wretched, for the first time weak. And when he opened them, he heard the echo of Modeus laughing at him in Bette's voice.
By now it was dark out. What with having jumped from evening back into morning, he must have been up for well over 24 hours already. But he couldn't sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to, not with so much work still to do.
He knew as soon as he walked in that the house they'd sent him to wasn't vacant. But getting to know whoever else was staying here wasn't high on his list of priorities at the moment. If Modeus was around, Qubit would almost definitely be his first target, and he'd rather not make it easy on him. He might be able to rig the house's wiring into a makeshift perimeter alarm, but he'd need a control panel for that at the very least, and ...
... and there was a blender in the kitchen. "Ahh, you'll do nicely."
So, yeah, residents of #003, there's a strange man in your kitchen telekinetically taking apart your nonessential appliances and reassembling them into things that are very much not kitchen appliances. Also, his eyes and hands are glowing bluish-green whilst he does this. Hope you didn't need that crockpot.
B. De Chima Neighborhood (open)
Over the next few days, Qubit was in and out a lot. He'd wasted no time throwing a proverbial armful of irons into the fire - secure the house, look for Modeus, locate the army's Porter, build his own Porter, make a better computer, find a good source of scrap, keep an eye out for anything suspicious ... Realistically, it was probably more projects than he ought to take on at once, but it felt as if a sort of mad restlessness had taken hold of him and wouldn't let go. And occasionally, when he caught a glimpse of his reflection, startled himself with the haggard, half-frenzied look in his own eyes, he wondered if maybe its grip wasn't the only thing holding him together.
But it wasn't as if he could stop. His own Earth needed him. No - strike that, Earth could probably do with a bit less of him. But Kaidan and Gil needed him. He was the closest thing they had to a leader, his embryonic ideas the closest thing they had to a plan. Of course they were more than capable of fending for themselves, but he knew Kaidan, she'd never settle for fending. She'd do everything in her considerable power to help, and more, if she could manage it. Really, she was the least alone out of any of them, but he couldn't help worrying all the same.
He spent a considerable amount of time away from the house, at least in absolute terms, but mainly in spurts of an hour or two throughout the day. In between, there were ample opportunities to catch him porting in and out, and he wasn't really bothering to be surreptitious about it.
His teleportals, not exactly engineered for stealth, glowed bright blue and made a distinctive humming noise whenever they were open. Sometimes Qubit came through with nothing, sometimes with a few scraps of broken technology that he'd toss into the shed, and once or twice he got lucky with an armful. But so far he'd had slim pickings...
C. near any of the Porter cities (open)
... which was why he was surveying junkyards. And scrapyards, and the occasional garbage dump.
Sometimes he'd be scanning the area with a tricorder-sized device he'd whipped up for that purpose the other day; other times, poking around in the midst of it, trying to find something that hadn't already been stripped for copper and such; but more often a combination of the two.
So, if you were the kind of person who liked to hang around junk- and/or scrapyards, there'd be a pretty good chance of running into him there.
C- Maurtia Falls
Most pressingly, his cane was still made out of parts of a crutch, and a few days of use was starting to get to him. Sure, he could always buy one, but he had a feeling they'd need the rest of their money for other things- like food and clothing- before either of them were paid again.
He also needed a laptop, because office work was far from ideal, but again, out of his budget and possibly even his skillset, but if he was lucky, he might find one in need of only minor repairs.
So it was with these thoughts in mind that Hermann found himself at the outskirts of Maurtia Falls and picking his way around heaps of junk, prodding the occasional object with the end of his cane or viciously kicking something out of the way. It was something of a chore all on its own that his brain couldn't stop reminding him that Newton wan't within immediate reach.
It took the better part of a half hour to realize he wasn't the only one there, and another good fifteen minutes of small circuits around the area before recognition kicked in. Another five were spent in silent debate over whether or not he should approach, until he finally gave in and made his way over to the other man.
"..Mr. Qubit?"
no subject
That said, she'd also been dead on about the needles. Qubit had picked up some heavy-duty work gloves on the way over, but he still had to be careful where he stuck his hands, so he didn't really spare much attention for anything else. He'd seen a dog around earlier, and generally attributed any odd noises he heard to that.
Even then, Hermann was about the last person he'd have expected to find poking around a junkyard, so this was a surprise. Not an unpleasant one, though. Qubit smiled and got to his feet. "Dr. Gottlieb! Funny running into you here."
no subject
"It's certainly something of a novel experience- one I hope not to repeat with frequency, however.. it seems we have similar purposes."
He was grossly unprepared however and had to hope something jumped out at him, rather than dig through who knew what. Next time perhaps, if he didn't manage to find anything today.
"Collecting parts for the Porter, I imagine?"
no subject
no subject
But that wasn't looking likely today. "Newton has also requested a radio and a pair of glasses. As if I'm likely to find any intact, let alone his prescription type."
no subject
Anyway, he leaned over his box of parts, one hand at his chin. "You're welcome to anything I've found. There should be a couple of circuit boards buried in there somewhere. Or, I could always throw something together for you - unless you want to take a stab at the assembly yourself," he added, with a knowing glance in Gottlieb's direction. His being here at all implied that was the plan. And Qubit absolutely did mean with your powers, he was curious to see them in action.
no subject
"I don't pretend to know the inner workings of Newton's brain, and I honestly don't particularly care to." The irony of course, being that they shared a psychic connection. One that wouldn't leave him alone. Don't mind the random glare he casts off in the direction he guessed Newton was in.
But back to the matter at hand.
"I'd rather not inconvenience you, Mr. Qubit." And yeah, he totally caught that. "I'm not certain my ability extends to manipulating electronic parts, so I'd likely be building it by hand- nothing remarkable. However.."
Spotting a cracked mirror with a faded golden frame, Herman maneuvered over to inspect it. He traced the inside of the mirror with a fingernail and a gentle pulse of light had the frame separating from the mirror. Less subtle was the way the golden frame came apart in precise pieces. Hermann examined the ones he dubbed to be in the best condition and took them in hand to bring over and show Qubit.
"If you're interested.."
After a moment of concentration, the pieces disappeared from his palm in a flash of tiny digits and reappeared in the next, newly smoothed and warped into something resembling a handle. The dull grip of his own cane popped off like it had been inexpertly taped there, and the golden handle disappeared and reappeared affixed where the previous one had been.
Hermann placed his cane back down on the ground, testing his grip and leaning on it with a smile. "And that is how.. that works. Much better."
no subject
"Intriguing," he said, eyeing the handle. He would have liked to take a closer look, but he wasn't about to ask for the cane. "Have you had a chance to try it on a larger scale? Same level of complexity, but scaled up?"
no subject
"I've done some testing over the past few days," he acknowledged with a nod. "Not the most comprehensive study yet, of course. There are many factors to account for. However, as one might expect, small, simpler objects are easier and quicker to manipulate. Size and complexity seem to correlate with time on a varying scale. I could bend sheet metal without much difficulty, but if I wanted to twist it into a more intricate object, it would take longer as I charted the new factors into the equation. Repeated uses of the same or similar designs would complete more quickly, although with still some allowances for relative size for reasons I've yet to fully determine. Therefore, it's typically more efficient to scale down the pieces I'm working with."
no subject
Especially when combined with Mako's power, though he didn't know that yet.Like Qubit, he needed raw materials, but those were simple enough to come by."Now, I notice there was a moment in there where the material disappeared," he added, gesturing to the cane. "Where did it go, do you know?"
no subject
Hermann frowned, the one question that nagged at him since he'd first witnessed it in the hospital. "Nothing conclusive, I'm afraid. A type of liminal space wherein it's interfaced with my calculations.. the time spent in transference." He shrugged. "Another pet project."
He stooped down to pick up a small strip of scrap metal, and when it reappeared, it was shaped into a small, mathematically perfect cube. Hermann offered it for inspection. "Newton offers his greetings, by the way."
warning: science content (of questionable validity)
"Huh? Oh, pass him mine, then," he said absently. "I wonder... this is really something. Let's say you start with one object at two points in time, t0 and ti... but somewhere in between those two states, you're taking the object out somewhere and applying a four-dimensional transform to it. Deforming through space, translating through time." Yeah, he definitely felt like he had something. He became more animated as he spoke, gesticulating excitedly. "Then when you project the result into 3D space at ti, what we see is completely different, but it's still fundamentally the same object. Oh, this is brilliant!"
my hero
"Somewhat difficult to prove," he lamented by necessity. "But that is nonetheless a fascinating theory- it is the same material, simply altered by parameters I've defined. To use a tired analogy, I will not be turning lead into gold or modifying anything on an atomic level, but the physical properties of the object.."
Left him with an astounding amount of control over his surroundings. His grip shifted, leaning almost dangerously forward. "I've also found I do not need to be physically touching the object, although my calculations are more accurate if I do so- likely due to familiarity.."
But he already knew the exact dimensions of the tiny cube in Qubit's hand, and watched as it settled back in the same place instead as a sphere. "The range of which simply seems to be my visual field, but there's more testing to be done on that front, as well."
no subject
What would Tony have seen, looking at that?
The thought struck him hard, out of nowhere, and all the vigor went out of him like air escaping a balloon. He saw the change in his reflection almost before he felt it, and he turned and took a couple slow steps away from Gottlieb, taking a deep breath to try and put his composure back together before he could make a fool of himself. He couldn't even imagine seeing like the Plutonian saw, hearing everything he heard. It was beyond him on so many levels. For God's sake, Qubit, pull yourself together. Why are you even thinking about him now? He has nothing to do with this. He's dead.
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He trailed off as Qubit staggered back, and Hermann watched with a pinched expression, consciously straightening before he fell forward himself. His words over the past minute had been nothing alarming, he reflected. But was there a deeper revelation there, lurking where he couldn't see it- something horrifying about tapping into higher dimensions?
Hermann shifted, uncertain. "..Mr. Qubit? Are you quite alright?"
no subject
You can mourn for Tony. Just not today, all right? Kaidan had said, smiling. Fine, but when? There simply wasn't time. He had to fix this, he had to get home before the damage was irreversible. If he let himself fall apart now... well, he didn't know what, and that was a terrifying prospect in itself.
He took a deep breath and straightened up. Without looking, he extended a hand toward the scraps he'd gathered and let his power do its thing. It was quite a bit flashier than Hermann's, manifesting with a greenish light that extended from his hand and lifted the parts into the air. They changed there, warping in shape, fitting themselves together, new circuits growing across the boards almost as if alive... The whole process took about five seconds, and when it ended, Qubit had in his hand a brand-new, matte silver laptop, complete with a charger. On the back of the screen, where you'd normally find a logo, was engraved a simple letter Q.
That done, he faced Gottlieb again and offered it to him with something like a smile. It didn't reach his eyes, though; they still betrayed the weariness in him, deep and crushing.
"Here. Nothing on it yet, but it'll run Linux," he said casually. At least with machines, complexity was quantifiable.
no subject
The green light forced him to take a step back, but all he could think as he watched complex parts weave themselves together, was that at least it wasn't Blue. It looked like something out of a comic book, but then, this was the first power he'd really seen outside his own. It far outstripped his own capabilities certainly.
Hermann stared at the sleek, silver laptop, looking like everything he needed in one simple piece of technology, and hooked his cane over his arm in order to turn it over between both hands. A lovely simplistic design, compact and durable, and complete with a charger to ensure its battery life. No visible defects, and the Q on the back of it like something of a maker's mark that made his lips twitch into amusement.
"Remarkable." He was far too impressed to be appropriately conscientious. "A level of mastery I doubt I'd ever achieve, and certainly nowhere close to that speed."
Hermann folded it down and held it to his chest like one might a precious child. "This will be perfect. I simply cannot thank you enough, Mr. Qubit."
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No it's not.Qubit's smile turned more genuine, a subtle change but noticeable. There was still that existential tiredness, but it felt a little less heavy now. That's right. We can still try to do good. Isn't that what I always say? It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, but it was what he had.
"Then don't," he said, amused. "And don't sell your own abilities short so soon. You're still new to them, I've had most of my life to practice. Now, what was the other..." He snapped his fingers a few times. "Ah! Radio."
Repeating the process for a radio receiver went even quicker. For that he settled on a desk radio with a vaguely retro design (in green, of course), but touchscreen controls. This he handed over as well. "AM/FM, shortwave, satellite. I assume he wants at least one of those."
no subject
But the radio took him by further surprise, and he stared at it a moment, chagrined. "Ah yes, you are.. very kind, Mr. Qubit. A moment, if you would."
With his cane taking up one hand, he had a limited amount of objects he could safely carry at once. Hermann hadn't been particularly concerned initially, as he'd expected to be bringing back mostly parts for these things. His ability allowed him to repurpose stray materials into a sturdy enough duffle bag at least, and he tucked the laptop, charger, and radio into it with a satisfied huff.
"I'll be sure he thanks you properly." For a given definition of 'proper'. "..Or at least makes the effort to do so."
no subject
"I'm serious, don't worry about it," he said. "Now, do you need a lift home, or...? I mean, not that I'm trying to get rid of you, you're welcome to stick around, but you don't seem the type to enjoy spending your whole afternoon in a scrapyard."
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Hermann cast a look around the junkyard and gave something of a shrug. He had some reason to linger, but he also wasn't looking forward to taking the transit system back again.
"That would be an accurate assessment." Not that this particular set of clothing hasn't been through the mill already, but still. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I suppose."
no subject