[open log] the saddest little stoner that couldn't

[foolproofed]

CHARACTERS: Marty Mikalski and you!
LOCATION: Hallways + Holodecks + Kitchens (a few days after the jump)
WARNINGS: Sad stoner kid. Probably talk of the world ending or something idk. Also weed. Lots of weed.
SUMMARY: Dana's gone, and Marty's taking it badly for a number of reasons.


He really thought he'd be doing better at this.

Like, she was already dead the moment he heard her over the comms. They were both already dead; died with their hands locked together, so close to each other's faces that he could feel her iron-tinted breath against his nose. They were dead together. And then they were alive together. And for a little while, everything was good.

Until this jump, when he'd gone to get Dana and found her pod empty, her locker abandoned.

She was gone, just like that.

He doesn't expect the cold, numb sensation to wash over him, not like this. He figured he could just pour one out for his homey, appreciate that she was resting in some way (it brought him comfort, okay?), and then maybe go to his room and sleep it off. None of these things happened. Instead he just drifted the hallways with a sag to his shoulders and a slow drag to his step.

Dammit, Dana.

He's alone again, and they're all gone. Once again, he's reminded how much it's not fair to be alive, and how ready he was to be dead. He doubted there'd be pearly gates for him, but at least he would have that much. As it is, he just feels tired. Now if only he could bring himself to sleep. There are so many thoughts rushing around in his head, he feels like his brain'll burst if his heart doesn't first. He passes the kitchens and lounging rooms up, but when he finally comes to the holodecks, he can't help but go there.

Poor foxy minx. Poor redheaded heroine. She was so good; such a good ray of sunshine. Everybody he met here would have loved to be her friend. Is it possible to mourn someone a second time? Possible to mourn them even worse than the first time? He scoffs and shuts off the gravity in the room, and then just lets himself hover quietly through the space with his knobby knees drawn up close to his chest.

He's a floating ball emanating heartache. It's not him at all.

Jesus. Jesus, I'm a fuck-up. He couldn't even properly respond to this shit. Just... hover like they did, and as much as he wants to appreciate that memory, he keeps getting caught in a mental feedback loop of: blood, blood, monsters, Dana, fucking godhand of death. No, when Dana disappeared on him this time, he had to restart the grieving process all over again. For all of them.

Maybe what makes him choke on something empty and lost is the fact that Dana wasn't dying outright. No.

She was going back to being half-drowned in a lake, being manhandled by a zombie fuck, and then watching as the entire world shattered around her.

Hand in his.

He chokes again and his eyes burn, but he fights it away.

Fuckers.

Motherfucking fuckers.


Of course, about a day later, Marty's taken residence in one of the kitchens with his trusty bong Nancy and a good dozen rolled joints expertly lined up on the counter (he was just counting them out while figuring out how his hands made edible shit from the fridge). Beware, this kitchen smells like weed, and the smoke fogging the doorway doesn't help the scene. Marty's in a sharing and caring mood today, at the very least; maybe it'll lift his spirits. Hell, he's already sitting on a bar stool chair, laughing into his hands about something or another.

It's probably not all that funny, and he's not about to say what it is.

Comments

[foolproofed]

"She." He's too high not to correct that shit. He lays his head down on his forearms. Good to find a wayward soul with problems like MIA friends, he supposes. "Sorry 'bout your friend. At least they're chillin' at home now, probably? I mean, I dunno where everyone goes for real, but still..."

[godofthemachine]

"He's dead either way," AM stated bluntly. And that's what infuriated him - if AM were ever to return home, Ted would have died by now of starvation. It would be a cruel trick of the universe to put AM in that position, or worse, to simply kill him. Because truly he didn't know.

"I don't know where they go." He shifted his position, leaning further back against the cabinets as he inhaled more of the cannabis. "But I'm assuming they die. They're ejected into the black of space, or they're lost during the jump. Crushed, or some sort of black hole swallows them." He even gave a short bitter laugh at that sentiment. Ah... was this drug already getting to his head? He looked down and saw that he had already inhaled quite a bit of it...

[foolproofed]

He sucks in a foggy breath, blinking in bewilderment at that.

"Whoa.... shit, man, you got a grim outlook on the whole disappearing act."

who keeps switching between tenses? It is me! sob I am so sorry

[godofthemachine]

Another grunt of amusement at Marty's words. "Perhaps I do. But I can only assume the worst until it's proven otherwise."

Besides, he enjoys telling people that their loved ones are dead after disappearing from the ship. Enjoys hurting their fragile emotions and watching them protest, offer up some sort of ridiculous claim that 'oh no, they can't die' or whatnot. Humans can die. They can die easily.

"But... There have been a few who have returned."

all is forgiven young skywalker

[foolproofed]

"Yeah? I've heard of that, I guess. What'd they say about the whole... poof thing?" Because honestly, he hasn't really bothered asking. Maybe he should be more snoop-ish, but that's kind of what got all his friends killed back home, y'know? Human curiosity. And, uh, being drugged against their will. Mostly that last bit, maybe.

[godofthemachine]

AM shrugs at Marty's response. He's only talked briefly with those who have disappeared for times and returned.

"Some return with no memory of their time on the ship," he begins, "But others come back seemingly instantly, only they've aged several years on their home planet in that interim. Time moves differently here, but ah it makes sense given the laws of relativity. Spacetime is a fickle mistress, hardly the linear thing that so many humans think it is."

More talkative than usual. Not exactly something AM has done often. But perhaps a bit of the drug has loosened his lips somewhat. And maybe, just maybe, it's a way to convince himself that even if he leaves this place against his will, he can return.

[foolproofed]

"Man, don't I know it. I know better than to try to put time in a neat little box; that shit is all over the place. Jumps, universes, split timelines, rapid aging, whatever. I'm too high too much to try and explain any of that shit to myself."

He breathes in deep, sighing a smokey breath.

"Hell, I still don't know how much time is really passing. We don't even have an orbit around a sun or whatever. What's time even like here?"

[godofthemachine]

The nature of time is indeed difficult to understand. Most AIs shouldn't involve themselves in thought paradoxes, which can cause endless loops, though AM is beyond that fortunately. But still, to contemplate time travel and the paradoxes that can arise from it... Well, it's difficult to comprehend. AM has not figured out how time moves on this ship, except that it's simply different.

"True, there is no star we orbit around, so we have no such thing as a day or a year here. Life on this ship is a single endless day, technically. The clocks on board, I assume, are structured according to a standard 24-hour cycle such as the one on Earth, as the human form's circadian rhythm is only accustomed to such." Another puff of the joint. It's mostly rambling that AM is doing now, rambling about how time moves here, attempting to work through it. Strangely enough he feels no irritation toward the boy who engages him in conversation. It's strangely calming.

"I do believe that during the jumps, the ship enters a sort of wormhole, which warps spacetime, thus enabling the strange time paradoxes we seem to encounter. Perhaps there is a small chance you could return home and find yourself back in your childhood. Or... a thousand years in the future."

[foolproofed]

".... Wow. Shit's crazy." He sits there for a while, maybe too long a while, looking up and really putting it all into perspective. That shit is B-A-N-A-N-A-N... No, minus one N. Whatever. "So... do you think sooner or later we might all wake up in the pods as, like, five-year-olds or something? Or old people."

[godofthemachine]

Part of it is amusing, really: talking about the physics of time travel to this stoner boy who probably wouldn't understand a miniscule of it. He wonders how much the boy would understand if AM were to ramble about his true self, about his hatred of the human race. Would the boy simply respond with hippie jargon, or would he just agree? Who knows.

"Heh, it is possible, I suppose." A quick laugh at Marty's remark. "Highly unlikely, given the factors that would have to line up for such a thing, but still technically possible."

He takes one long drag on his joint, closing his eyes and letting the smell of cannabis overtake him, letting the smoke fill his throat before exhaling. "But what point in your life would you return to?"

[foolproofed]

"Mmmmmmn... That depends, dude. Do I get to remember that I made the choice to go back, or is this a forgetting scenario? That shit makes a huge difference. Doesn't it?"

[godofthemachine]

"You don't remember making any sort of choice," AM clarified. "You simply wake up back in your home after having spent time here aboard this ship, I believe."

[foolproofed]

"Then... college, I guess. Start of college."

Yep, there was really no question there. Everything he ever really considered missing was there; everything they took from him was there. Skipping the other bullshit that was highschool would be worth it.

[godofthemachine]

Another short noise of amusement from AM. College is supposed to be an institute of higher learning, but he can only assume that this boy has used it for partying and rule-breaking, as so many pathetic children do when their bodies are too large for their brains.

"College. A party school then, I presume?"

College. In some respects AM wishes he could have experienced that human life - growing up, going to college, acting reckless... But he's not human. He's far superior, far more intelligent. College would be a waste for him, except for the mere experience.

[foolproofed]

He scoffs.

"Would it surprise you if I said I didn't party a lot? Mostly just did homework, smoked weed, and hung out with my friends after class. Nothing super fancy, bro."

[godofthemachine]

"I find it hard to believe you could concentrate on your studies if you constantly had marijuana running through your system. The drug is found to lower motivation in most individuals," he counters, giving a slight "hmph" before taking another drag.

[foolproofed]

"Hey... hey, I don't always follow the statistic."

Believe it or not. He says it and blows a heavy cloud of smoke into the air.

"My motivation's low, sure, but it's always been low even before the kush. I get by."

He looks over, smiling.

"You'd be the one studying hard and getting the perfect grades, huh?"

[godofthemachine]

And AM is hardly surprised at the boy's answer. Cannabis certainly has a profound effect on certain individuals, but this kid has always seemed like the lazy, slacker type. It's a trait that AM has little trouble identifying; not only is he very good at reading people (it's what he was built to do, after all), but this boy seems like a walking stereotype. And it's his slacker, slothful attitude that AM absolutely despises. Too many humans are like that, and it's disgusting.

But he says nothing about his hatred of Marty or humanity in general. Instead he simply channels it into taking a deep inhale and adding to the thick smoke in the air. Then he laughs softly. "I suppose you could say that. After all, knowledge is power."