ataraxionlogs | EVENT; LIFTS & CORRIDORS

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EVENT; LIFTS & CORRIDORS

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The Corridors.
WARNINGS: Space crazy, violence, etc.
SUMMARY: You may have simply been taking the lift with passerbys, but now you're hopelessly lost.
NOTES: Notes on the corridors.

Those on their way to meet a friend at dinner, or heading to their department, may never reach their intended destination. Instead, characters will find themselves in an unfamiliar part of the ship, abruptly stranded. All attempts to access the elevator will prove fruitless, as the doors cannot be pried open and the lift will not respond when called. It looks like you have no where to go but forward. Hallways will connect only to other hallways, giving you the impression that you're always on your way somewhere- but can't quite manage to arrive.

Time spent in the hallways will seem endless, but with luck you may find a break in the monotony. It is possible for characters to find one another, which would be preferable, as it's probably safer traveling in groups. Those that spend an excessive amount of time in their own company will find themselves feeling increasingly hostile and paranoid, until even the walls seem to be watching. That may not be such an exaggeration, with those murals that continually appear...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Wheatley responds about as well as you would expect--he jumps back, hands (and portal gun) raised in defense, looking like he's on the verge of a panic attack before he realizes that this is another crew member and backs down accordingly.

That does not, however, mean he's necessarily pleased with the turn of events.

"Should watch where you're going," he quips, giving York a clear once-over and seemingly more perturbed with the hallway than anything else. "Turned around, are you?"

"About as much as you are, I'd guess. Unless you'd happen to know where we are." It didn't see likely, with the way Wheatley was glancing around.

"Uh..."

He hesitates, not quite ready to admit that he'd gotten himself lost, much less let someone else know that he didn't really know what he was doing at any given time.

"Can't be too far out, if I'm running into other passengers. Everything starts to look a little familiar, after a while, though."

"Yeah, that's the problem I'm having. I stepped off one of the lifts, turned the corner— Haven't been able to find it since." He sort of frowns and backs up a step to look the direction he just came from. "I think you're right, it's just that all these hallways look the same. There ought to be more identifying markers on stuff."

"Don't think those would do any good," he replies, idly dragging a hand along the wall. Wheatley frowns.

"The corridors move, mate. And the deeper you go, the worse it is. S'possible I've been here twice already. No way of knowing, for sure."

He pushes his hand through his hair, still trying to make sense of this. Unfortunately with the way he's been wandering that almost sounds correct. But...

"There's got to be a better explanation than that. How can they move?"

"Any number of ways, really."

He shrugs. A place where the rooms and corridors never stay put is not necessarily new to him, after all.

"Could be there's an AI in control of the place, that's what I've--I've got my money on. Seen it before.'

"Oh, yeah, well; that makes sense. Kind of. Dunno why the halls would be moving when people are lost in them. You'd think the AI would notice and be able to account for that."

"Never said it was benevolent."

Wheatley, of course, had experienced his fair share of an ever-changing complex, courtesy of one very angry, very passive-aggressive computer lady.

"Probably getting a kick out of this, if anything."

"You think it's rampant, then? Or, you know. Just an asshole."

"Could be it's just doing what it wants."

The use of the unfamiliar terminology (at least in relationship to AIs), however, elicited a raised eyebrow and a suspicious glance.

"What do you mean, rampant?"

"Last part of the life cycle of an AI. If I remember it right, it's when an AI has so much information it's learned, it doesn't have anywhere to put anything new. So it kind of starts eating itself. Goes crazy."

His eyebrows go from being raised to pinching together in the center of his forehead, trying to make sense of something that is quite obviously out of his frame of reference. Life cycles, he'd thought, were reserved for organic things--he's never heard that terminology used in reference to AI, and isn't quite sure how to feel about the idea.

"Sorry, life cycle?"

He knows who Wheatley is, though he's never directly spoken to him. But because of it he's smart enough to stay away from terms like 'smart' and 'dumb' AI. He doesn't think Wheatley would take that well. "That's how it is where I come from. If the AI has a full set of coding, it can overrun itself. Maybe it's different in other places, I don't know.'

Indeed, any mention of 'dumb' AI, especially in relation to Wheatley, is probably good to steer clear of.

"Don't have anything like that, where I'm from. Are you saying you sort of...deliberately leave it incomplete so it doesn't overrun itself, as you put it?"

"Sort of." He's not sure whether telling Wheatley about the Alpha's torture is a very good plan, so he'll omit it for now. "Anyway, that's why I understand how there can be good and bad AIs. The one I was partnered with? Great guy. Some of the others...not so much."

The look on Wheatley's face more-or-less indicates that he hasn't quite decided whether or not to be offended by this.

"That's right, you did--"

It seems mention of a partner is a satisfactory distraction, as Wheatley puts a face to the network posts.

"I have seen you mention. Your partner."

"Yeah? I was looking for him at first, when I got here. Part of me hopes he'll show up one of these jumps, just so I know he's okay."

"I wouldn't wish anyone on this boat," he quips, though it might not be exactly true.

"Sort of...symbiotic relationship, the two of you?"

"Yeah, that's a good way to put it. He was installed as a combat AI—here, you see?" He interrupted himself to turn and point out his neural port, at the base of his neck. Delta's chip had been missing when he'd arrived on the Tranquility. "That's really why I worry about where he is, because his chip is missing. Wherever he is, they physically have him somewhere. You see?"

He shook his head a little, reminding himself to get back to what he was meaning to say. "Anyway, he's a combat AI, but we became really good friends. More than that. Part of the deal is you can hear one another's thoughts, so it's more like...well, like being part of each other."

Wheatley regarded the port with no small amount of suspicion, having less-than-pleasant associations with sharing headspace, especially when the other resident was mostly psychotic.

"And that didn't--that was fine, for you?"

"For us. Yeah. We were a good match." Others weren't as lucky.

Wheatley can kind of see where this is going. "And is that--is that the norm, or--?"

He stifles a sigh, shrugging, not sure how much to reveal about this. "I wish I could say it was, man. There were some match-ups that went against recommendations. There were others, I'm not sure they should have been matched up with anyone. Like you were saying, some AIs just aren't good guys, just like with people."

"So it was...not a choice of yours, or his, and the two of you just lucked out."

As sketchy as he found the idea, Wheatley couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of jealousy--he'd never gotten along with other AI, to say nothing of humans, and the idea of an actual, mutually-beneficial partnership didn't sound...

Well, it didn't sound half-bad, really.

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