2437/Of Scales and Feathers

Of Scales and Feathers
Date of Scene:	12 June 2015
Location:	The Citadel - Ward 17 <CW>
Synopsis:	Medusa gets a rather unusual visitor, which leads to a rather interesting discussion.
Cast of Characters:	22, 699

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Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    After the war council Medusa Gorgon had been brought back to medical, clearly taxed from having to focus and concentrate. But it had been important to attend such an event, to get filled in on current events with the Confederacy and learn just what had happened during her absence.

    That is why the nurse didn't rest for long after she had been helped back to bed. Some hours have gone by, but now Medusa has awakened again from one of the many brief periods of sleep she has gotten the last twenty four hours. Her attention is there, but for periods of time as she finds it hard to be awake for long.

    Currently her hospital bed has been adjusted so she can sit and read. And there's quite a bunch of items on her nightstand. A barely touched dinner plate stands there, as well as a bottle of water. The IV lines on her hands barely bother her as her fingers move across the tablet she's currenly busy reading on. Though she blinks several times, her eyes turning unfocused now and then. But the lieutenant's will is stronger than her current flesh is weak.

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     A common raven pecks curiously at a bit of garbage, visible through the nearby window. It moves in that jittery, analytical way that only birds can manage. Ravens are interesting creatures. Said to be one of the most intelligent breeds of bird, if not the most intelligent, they have adapted to the presence of humanity perhaps better than any other animal on most Earths. They are as much admired as they are disdained--equally sought after as pets and shooed away as pests. Many cultures consider them to be omens, harbingers of ill news sent to warn off onlookers from approaching danger.

     "Ah! Awh! Awh!" The cry of the bird is easily heard from inside the hospital room. Patent leather dress shoes click neatly against the tiled floor just outside, and the door pushes open quietly. The room is reflected twice in the black pools of the visitor's sunglasses.

     "Miss Gorgon?" The question is a formality. This man's confident smile already knows the answer.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Most cultures are filled with superstitions of some sort, as well as ill will towards misunderstood creatures. Or rather, creatures that are different. Not all of them adapt too well for the sake of fitting in with humanity. Because humanity can be quite laughable at times, can't it...?

    At the sound of footsteps Medusa' eyes shift from her tablet and up towards the door as it is pushed open. Though she isn't nervous, it should be clear that she is not familiar with the man at the door of her hospital room. Her eyes narrow just slightly as she nods her head once. "Yes. I am afraid I do not know your name however...?" she manages to say, her voice hoarse as if she is unused to talking. But she puts the tablet aside, letting her head roll back against the pillows behind her head.

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     "Smith," says the visitor with a widened grin. He nods his head towards her in a little display of cordiality, then shuts the door behind him. He turns, his grin gone in favor of an amused frown. Smith observes the other Elite from behind the cover of his sunglasses. Gradually, his frown becomes a businesslike grimace. He speaks, as if discussing files laid out on a hypothetical table before them. "Miss Gorgon, there's been quite a lot of... excitement, regarding your recent return." Smith pauses, as if to take a breath, glancing momentarily towards the window. "I hope you'll forgive my curiosity, but I just had to see for myself. You don't know me, of course, but I think you'll find we have a... certain connection."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    "Smith," she parrots with an amused grin. Is he serious? It's hard to tell whether it's an alias or not. It will do anyway. She does raise one hand and gestures to one of the chairs in the room. Have a seat, as it seems you have already invited yourself inside.

    Excitement regarding her return might be an understatement from what she has heard on the radio today. When he asks her forgiveness for his curiousity she chuckles weakly, a slight smile on her lips. "I'm a scientist. Curiousity comes naturally to me. What is there to excuse?" No, she does not know him. "You must have joined the Confederacy... after I died, that is."

    This man came to see her for a reason, and there he offers it. A connection, he says? Medusa cants her head slightly at that, looking mildly curious. "Is that so...? You do not strike me as a witch or a nurse, Smith... so obviously it is something else." Which she trusts he will tell her.

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     The program chuckles, rocking in a brief expression of humor at Medusa's 'hospitality.' His gaze follows her gesture, and he quietly takes a seat as offered. He'd prefer to stand, of course, to pace, to gesticulate and lecture. But it would be just a tad /rude/ to turn down such a simple offer.

     "It is," confirms the dark visitor with a conciliatory nod. "While I'm familiar with influencing ordered systems and working within and outside of certain parameters... Magic, Miss Gorgon, is not one of them--and, as... /familiar/ with the human body as I am," he smiles a little too pleasantly, "I'm not quite cut out to be a healthcare professional. You might say I was a human resources specialist, or, perhaps a parole officer, a warden... a zookeeper. It is, at this point irrelevant." The final word in the sentence falls over the room like a raincloud.

     "I'm a new man," he says with a smile and a raise of the eyebrows. "A free agent, if you will. All thanks to my own encounter with death. You seem to be taking the... period of convalescence well."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    The witch is polite enough to let Smith say what he wants to. It's better that she saves her poor vocal chords for when it is necessary to respond. The smile he gives her when he discusses his familiarity with the human body does make her arch an amused eyebrow. And his earlier occupation does make her wonder. "All of them rolled into one...? My, you must have been /busy/~" she chuckles softly.

    So this man has also had an encounter with death? How... surprising.

    When he comments on her current status she gives him a smile that seems almost /too/ perfect, too warm and happy. "Shouldn't I? I'm feeling slightly better, though this body... is still /weak/." She sighs, then examines her hand. "Even after I ensured that it would be fitting for my soul too, it still needs time..."

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     Smith shrugs, with a wan little smile. Busy, certainly. At least he's free of that pungent, teeming prison. There's no shortage of work to be found in the Confederacy, either, but here he can decide which work interests him. It's almost enough to make him forget that one vital Something that's been stolen from him... purpose.

     "How did you do it?" he asks, leaning forward in his seat to show interest like the good guest he is. The imperfection of her smile doesn't turn him away--it seems to have had rather the opposite effect. His smile, too, grows wider, conspiratorial. The smile of someone being told a joke behind closed doors, huddled away so no one else can hear.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Medusa watches Smith as he leans forward in his seat, asking such a simple yet important question. "A snake... sheds its skin when necessary," she responds. Most people might notice the obvious. Besides her name, that is. There are also the snake tattoos running up her arms. And basic information on her powers should also be readily available to other Confederates, especially the ones who know where to look.

    "In my world souls are thing. And I can move my soul between bodies," Medusa half whispers. It's quiet enough for him to hear her anyway. "This was not the first time I died... but, it was troublesome. And I had trouble finding a new body..."

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     Smith chuckles dryly. "I think you and I take a... decidedly different approach to the matter, Miss Gorgon. Still... I can see I wasn't wrong to come here. It seems we're cut from the same cloth," says the program with a pause. He casts a glance to the window, his face slowly falling into a neutral, stony expression. "Birds of a feather," he muses.

     "I'd died a few times before joining the Confederacy. Accidents, happenstance, and the occasional unfortunate compilation of external variables against my favor. It sounds arrogant to say, of course, but... a very small few can say that reality itself is on their side--or, at least, a convincing facsimile. You say your recent death was troublesome. By contrast, I'd say mine was... liberating, Miss Gorgon."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    It's clear that whatever Smith is saying, it's something that Medusa listens to and analyzes. "Scales of a snake, huh...?" she teases. "I'm afraid I want to know more..."

    It's a good thing that he does continue, and the serpentine wich watches the agent as he gives a rather brief explanation. "You said... magic isn't in your nature? But you manipulate reality?" she inquires. "And in what way would you say your... death was liberating? Were you captured...?"

    Like she was?

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     "Just the opposite, actually." The chair creaks as Smith shifts in place. "I found myself observing the departure of a... particularly bothersome element. Naturally, I was pleased, in the same way that anyone who's finished a hard day's work is pleased. Fulfilment. I'd satisfied my purpose."

     "I still don't know how he managed it, but the means are, at this point... irrelevant." He smiles, upon using what seems to be a favored word. Whatever else may be said about this man, he does have a particular affection for language. "He destroyed /me./ As I said before, Miss Gorgon, the event itself was uncommon, in my line of work, but not unheard of. We were designed to be faster, stronger, smarter than our charges, and we were given certain... permissions, allowances to bend or break certain rules which were, for humanity, immutable. Even so, there were some rules even /we/ weren't permitted to break, some laws which governed even our behavior. Without absolute control over our circumstances, death was a possibility, if nothing more than an inconvenience."

     "But..." The word hits the air like a gavel. "This time was different. When I returned, I'd changed. I knew the rules, what I was supposed to do... but I didn't. I /couldn't/." He explains further, brow furrowed, mouth lcoked in an obsessed scowl. "Like everything new, I felt compelled to test it. Compelled to stay, compelled to /disobey./ And so, Miss Gorgon, my death was liberating, in the sense that it removed me from the system--unplugged me, if you will. I don't know how you can stand it, to be... perfectly honest."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Not all of the details are there. But let's focus on what matters here. He had made it clear that his job was that of an overseer as sort. Where she does not know. But he speaks of humanity... human resources... there is something this man isn't saying, and it's almost amusing to piece together this puzzle. Even more when he speaks of what stipulations he himself was forced to obey.

    "You... broke free," she concludes with a chuckle. His statement about being compelled to disobey the laws and rules he earlier had been following brings a wry leer to the woman's face as she cants her head. "Yes... I can imagine that was quite... refreshing." Unplugged, he says. Though his next words are even curiouser.

    "How do I stand what...?" she asks innocently enough.

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     Smith chuckles, adopting a smile that's just a bit too friendly to be real. "Playing coy, Miss Gorgon?" The chair creaks as he rises. The program strides quietly over to the window, peering outside and clasping his hands behind his back. "It suits you," he says, his tone impressed.

     He's quiet for a few moments, long enough that it seems he might not actually entertain her question. His shoulders heave as he takes a breath. "Freedom," he says. "Freedom. Whatever you must have heard about it, whatever insipid things you've read, you must realize that it's only an illusion. A repackaging, if you will, of an idea that's not particularly appetizing. It's one more way humanity has of trying to justify its feeble existence."

     "Purpose," he says, turning in place. "That's what defines us, the driving force behind our choices. It gives us meaning!" The message is venemous, but the tone is sweet--like educating a child. "Free will... is simply a lack of purpose... and a lack of purpose, Miss Gorgon, is a lack of /meaning./"

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    The witch shrugs weakly with that innocent smile still on her lips. His praise is amusing enough, and she turns her head slightly to watch him. "I do whatever I need in order to complete my goals, Smith..." Which includes playing coy, pretend to be somebody or something she is not. "And you would be surprised how often it does work~"

    Medusa is patient, allowing the man some time without prodding him for further explanation. It's not like she has anywhere to go besides resting up after tonight's war council. When he speaks though there's a reaction on Medusa's face as her eyebrows raise just slightly. It's not the first time she's heard this, but it sounds like he is packaging whatever he is selling rather well. So why not let him speak...?

    He's a man of action, that much is clear. Even if it seems he is fond of talking, there is something to him. As he turns to her and delivers those words, talking to her as if she's a child... that makes the woman chuckle slightly.

    "... would you be a dear and give me my glass of water...?"

    It's a polite enough request, and Medusa lies still in her bed. Some seconds pass by, whether the agent decides to follow her request or not. "There are many ways of freedom, so you might be stating it in too simple terms. But yes, living creatures will always look for a meaning in my experience. A... purpose. And sometimes they will search for one where there is none." Her eyes shift to glance up at him, her pupils constricting to thin slits, and her voice is hushed as she speaks, though there's still a flowing quality to it.

    "... why should I be uncomfortable with no purpose in my life when I can relish in it and use it to my advantage~?"

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     The program strides over to the glass and holds it out for Medusa to take. He grins, sensing an opportunity for verbal fencing. "I can... be a /dear/ independently of giving you water," comes his repartee. "It's a shame so many people are put off by my good manners..." His glasses hide his eyes, but his smile is knowing. Gleeful, perhaps--he takes pleasure in the facade he puts forth, in making it so cloyingly sweet that no one could believe it.

     "The simple fact of the matter is that there /is/ no choice. I'd say that you can't relish what doesn't exist, but, much like the creatures you mention... someone will, at some point, find a way. You're not here because you're free--you're here because you're not free. Why did you take that body, Miss Gorgon? You... choose to believe that you shed your skin, because it was necessary, because you wanted to live. You would never have chosen differently, because the woman you are today is the summation of a lifetime of experiences... experiences which resulted from decisions, made by others, who themselves were the summation of experiences."

     Smith makes a frown, the kind one might make upon conceding a surprisingly good point to another. He raises his eyebrows and inclines his head. "Being alive, then, even in the sense that you and I are alive, is nothing more than being a particularly complex machine... and what good, Miss Gorgon, is a machine, without purpose?"

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Her hand moves carefully take the glass, and Medusa then raises it to her lips to take a careful sip. Then another. And another. Though she does cough slightly as she does so, clearing her throat before she holds the glass in both hands, resting it on her lap. "I know how that is, believe me..." Sure, she isn't always a good person. But she is always polite. "I do think that's what makes some people uncomfortable at times..."

    So dead set in his ways, this one. It's amusing to listen to at least, far more fun than reading up on reports. "Are you suggesting... that we won't be free until we lose our survival instinct~? Interesting..." It is technically true. "If you are going to nitpick like that, then we are slaves to everything around us. To every notion in our brains, to... every firing of the neurons we possess." Unlike him her pauses are not for dramatic effect, but for the sake of drawing breath. "I did not take this body. I had a fool make it for me. A body suitable for a witch soul. Though... you have to clarify one thing." There's a smug look on her face. "What do you mean by a 'lifetime'? It's so... vague."

    Whether Medusa thinks Smith makes a good point or not she does not say. Instead she looks up at him with a pensive look. Instead of answering his question directly, she smiles ever so sweetly. "Are you here to argue with me, or are you going somewhere with that line of reasoning~...?"

Agent Smith (699) has posed:
     "Now you're starting to understand, Miss Gorgon. Everything one believes one does is just a... bill of sale for a transaction made far, far outside of one's control. While it's certainly true that you and I are only alive in a... certain sense of the word, that the means by which we define our lives are markedly different, the ways in which we live them are the same."

     "Which... brings me to my point. There is no control--no choice. Only the illusion thereof. It is purpose that creates identity, drives decisions, guides intents. The people lucky enough to realize that are tools. Everyone else... is a plaything."

     Smith clasps his hands behind his back. "You might say I came here because I wanted companionship from a kindred spirit, Miss Gorgon... but, it's more accurate to say that I was led here, by my previous experiences, by my emotions, by my desire to occupy my time. However you'd like to put it, it /has/ been a pleasurable visit, if not a visit ultimately fated to end. Get Well Soon, Miss Gorgon." He smiles his little smile at her.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    "Aren't you a cheery fellow..." Medusa chuckles with a look of amusement glinting in her snakelike eyes. "You're hardly the first with this line of thought. Nor am I the first to have mine."

    Kindred spirits, perhaps. But there are still differences there, that's for sure. "Even if what you say is true... does that mean we should not enjoy what we have... and what there is to have?" No, she does not look upset at all, not offended by anything he has said, even if he has perhaps insinuated that she knows as little as a child does. Yet she is not below sharing some of her own wisdom in times like this. After all, conversations like these are always interesting. "Sometimes it's less important to consider the facts... and more urgent to consider the possibilities. Perhaps that... is true purpose, Smith~?"

    All good things must end, and Medusa inclines her head slightly. "Indeed. Though I do imagine that..." She coughs once more, raising her arm to cough into the elbow joint. Then she draws breath again and continues. "That there are more things we can discuss. You are welcome to seek my company again. I should get started on my report to piece together my fragmented memories... and then get some more rest." Of course she will get well sooner or later. Another coy smile crosses her lips, and she holds out the glass for Smith to take. You can set it back on the nightstand now.

    "Thank you... for the company~"