Crack the skies you and I

[resoundingpledge]

WHO: Kururu, Various
WHERE: Around Heropa 28, Nonah 5, various other locations
WHEN: Throughout August
WHAT: Visiting labs, destroying innocent works of literature, hanging out in hammocks, café crawls, research and design . . .
WARNINGS: Will be added if necessary

Catch all log for August! You can ping me on warmblankets if you'd like to plan something out, or feel free to start your own!

Comments

Heropa 28 [Closed]

[resoundingpledge]

Ah, wait just a sec? I've almost got it—

[ Pinning her box between her body and the wall, she fumbles for the light switch.

The garage is far less empty than it used to be. A lot less normal than it used to be, too—machines line the walls now, and where the attic ceiling had been, wires and cables loop through pipes and gears, surrounding a single suspended chair. Overall, the feeling is somewhat akin to a workshop spending a long and amorous night with the inside of a clock.

As if there's nothing unremarkable at all, Kururu walks in, putting the box down beside a mostly complete pneumatic press. ]

Over here!

[violentmotion]

[In the mean time, Ikki staggers in after her. Carrying three boxes that he would swear is full of the sum total of all of the world's guilt. Or at LEAST five math textbooks, a satchel over each shoulder and a double tool belt, he might be a walking hernia impression.

Nope. NO WORRY. HE'S. HE'S FINE.]

Where??

[resoundingpledge]

Three steps forward! And a quarter turn to your left, and two steps more.

[ She drags her box a little out of the way, standing up to help him with his. ]

[violentmotion]

ONE ... two... thhhhhreee...

OI.. your left or my left?

[resoundingpledge]

Your left. Toward the sound of my voice.

[ As if she hadn't just cheerily said 'your left' a moment ago. As if they weren't both facing the same way now . . . ]

[violentmotion]

[Two more steps and he ... sets both down rather carefully actually. The satchels full of bulky metal parts thunk down with far less fanfare and much more noise.]

THIRTEEN WORKOUTS IN TEN MINUTES!

[resoundingpledge]

Nine minutes and fifty seven seconds!

Ahh, but you really saved me . . . it would have taken a lot longer to get everything here on my own.

[ Barely missing a beat, she unstacks the boxes, getting both of them open. The pressure gauge was in this one, wasn't it? Or— ]

—aha!

[violentmotion]

[He wisely stays out of the way, and takes to wandering around the garage instead.]

So what's this gonna be?

[resoundingpledge]

[ There's the shuffle of fabric, and the rapid clinking of tools . . . the familiar sounds of Kururu working at a 'leisurely pace'. ]

A machine press! It's pneumatic, but I've replaced the solenoid valves with custom parts—it's not going to be near the pressure we could get from the clock gears in the Factory, but it should still manage about fifty tons or so.

[violentmotion]

Fifty tons? That's how many semitrucks?

I mean, it's gotta be like three Bucchas. [He might be listening. He's already veered back to the press and............... unsurprisingly is checking out the air chamber, as unimpressive as it is without the mechanical force.]

[resoundingpledge]

Two semi trucks. I think . . . about five of Buccha-san.

[ The latter being in ability to exert pressure, not in weight. Probably. ]

Or two of Buccha-san and two of Ver-san.

[violentmotion]

What? That tiny two-toned thing?

[resoundingpledge]

Mm! That's him.

It would make it more of a combined pneumatic/hydraulic system, but that—

[ There's a groaning creek, heavy and metallic. ]

—would be kind of like one armoured semi truck, and—there! one whale.

[violentmotion]

[Where's the on button on this? The monkey climbing the heavy hardware starts investigating along the sides.]

So what you're saying is that I, their glorious leader, should make them work a thousand years at combo attacks.

[resoundingpledge]

Ahh, if it's Buccha-san and Ver-san . . . I don't think they'll need a thousand years to work together.

[ She glances up, watching him get closer to the control panel . . . and slips a sheet of aluminum under the press, and shuts the safety shield. ]

The switch on the right is the main power. And then the lever on the left will lower the press—the other ones are for pressure and power.

[violentmotion]

[Which frankly is just economy of motion, because the moment Ikki knows where to go, he zooms in on the control box immediately.]

BAM! [Spoken, as he slams down on the switch.] IT IS THE END OF YOU NOW MR. BOND! [As he throws the lever.]

Starktech Biotech Labs, De Chima, Aug. 8

[resoundingpledge]

[ Two days later, Kururu stands at their door, hand raised to knock.

Slung over her back, carrying strap over her shoulder, a massive cross gleams with a flat metallic sheen. It's plain, almost unadorned save for the small decorative touches at the ends of each arm. A sword flanked with wings, a phoenix. Simple scrollwork.

She debated a lot about whether to bring it, but in the end, the memory of numbers floating through the air around Hermann's cane (of data, living data) won out. It . . . couldn't hurt, and it would be worse to want it here and have it still resting back in Nonah or Heropa.

Maybe. Maybe there'd even be a reason to put it to use.

She practices saying his name once, twice, before knocking on the door. ]

Dr. Gottlieb?

[mathemagier]

[Hermann's uneven steps sound before the door opens, and he pushes it wide open]

Miss Sumeragi, good of you to come. [He gives the cross a very strange look before he steps aside to allow her plenty of room to step into the lab proper. He gestures inside with his cane]

My side of the lab is just over the line there. A bit unorthodox, but I don't enjoy Newton's various samples around my computers. For all it's a combined field, there are some things that simply don't belong together.

[resoundingpledge]

[ There's an actual line.

Carrying the cross with no apparent effort, she steps carefully over to Hermann's side, staring a little at the jars on the other side. ]

No, it . . . seems like a lot.

Is Dr. Geiszler a biologist?

[mathemagier]

What?

[The question only throws him for a loop because Newton is practically synonymous with 'biologist' at this point]

Oh, yes. I must have failed to mention that.

[He follows after her, still looking the cross up and down. Finally he has to ask]

Might I ask what that is for?

[resoundingpledge]

[ Looking closer, while the front and back are flat, the sides seemed . . . grooved, almost, like there's actually multiple plates stacked one against another.

She stops at a relatively open section of floor, letting the end rest on the ground. ]

It's . . . something from home. Kind of like an interpreter.

Do you sing, Dr. Gottlieb?

[mathemagier]

[Likely related to her powers then, if he had to guess.

That's at least the second time she's asked that, though he can't fathom why]

Er no, I'm not good at it. Is that a particular talent of yours?

[resoundingpledge]

Kind of. Probably not in the way I think you mean. It's more . . .

[ With her shoulders free again, she sets her messenger bag down, rooting through it to pull out a rather unremarkable laptop. ]

. . . it's visual for you, isn't it? Numbers, algorithms, data . . . information.

[mathemagier]

[Hermann nods, moving over to his large chalkboards with all manner of numbers and equations scribbled on them]

Yes. They've always.. well, the equations practically wrote themselves after awhile. I know the beginnings of a pattern when I see one.

[resoundingpledge]

[ Gosh but those are interesting . . . her eyes trace over them with the same eager wonder of a child standing outside a toy store, looking through the window to things just out of reach.

Today isn't for that, though. It's for this, even if her laptop is taking a rather unfortunate amount of time to boot up. ]

That part . . . that's the same.

It's 'sound', for me. Auditory. We call it birdsong, but Dr. Gottlieb would probably understand it more as a lossless algorithm for transmitting and receiving information.