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Owner	Pose
Ein	Arrival is an artifact of vague desire. An unresolved tension. The grudging acceptance, at one point or another, of filling out a product survey. The product, an intangible, is representative. The survey being completed is about the universe. The 'examination area', such that it is, consists of three white walls - a 'rear wall', a floor, and a ceiling. Points of fluorescent light shine sterilely down on a set of raised square podiums - one per participant - with a handful of seams along the surface but no obvious methods of control. There is a chair for comfort behind each podium. The center of the 'rear' wall, which all the podiums face, has a large 'screen' set in relief to the wall with static-y television fuzz playing silently across it. To the 'left' and 'right', the lack of walls is marked by yellow and black caution tape, and past that are grassy rolling hills that tumble in unfelt wind and are lit by a nonpresent sun. Just blue sky, green rolling hills of grass, and canvas-blank horizons. At the rear is much the same, but there is a single wooden-framed and white panel door with silver handle that stands slightly ajar. Atop the frame is a green framed exit sign, featuring the universally understood symbol of a humanoid shape (in this case, it is a *vaguely* humanoid shape) walking towards an egress, with a white arrow pointing towards that egress. It's an exit sign. Through the crack in the slightly open door, a warpgate shimmers. Besides the exit door is a large water cooler tank with paper cups filled with a nondescript 'fruit juice'. Besides the cooler, is a white table with white legs and white plates with fresh chocolate chip cookies. The chocolate chips unfortunately also taste like cookie dough.
Ein	At the start of the event, at an unappointed time, the static on the screen clears, and text appears on the screen: FOR CALIBRATION PURPOSES: PLEASE STATE A NAME, INTERACT WITH THE SWITCH, AND INTERACT WITH THE BUTTON. Your interactions will be used as reference for future questions. Upon each podium, two sets of seams part to raise, a single ball-capped lever starting in the right-aligned lean, and a single red button-switch. A scratching sound begins from 'behind' the rear wall, audible in the windless silence created by creaking blades of grass.
Hesinca	Hesinca considers. "That's... very vague." "State a name, interact with the switch, interact with the button..." "... Hmm." She reaches into her armor and pulls out a bottle of some cheap beer. "Not pull, not press... interact with." She rubs her chin with her free hand. "Lesse..." "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt," she says. Then she kicks the switch, and pours the entire bottle of beer onto the button.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Enter SURVEY     What? >Arthur: Enter SURVEY     Arthur enters the-- why is there a survey? Arthur is here. "Watch the INTERACTABLES." He says, as he drifts vaguely over Hesinca. "This is SETUP. Don't know what for, but you never know how expensive a RESPECT gonna be, homie." He drifts down towards one of the podiums, settles down, and cracks each finger individually, freehand. "ARTHUR LOWELL!" He calls out, and then both the LEVER and the BUTTON summon up minigames for their interaction, a slingshot-like one for the force of the lever and a timing-based one for the button, resulting in him giving each a thorough, forceful INTERACTING in quick sequence.     Then he takes a seat in the chair, plopping down sideways, folding leg over leg, and relaxing with his fingers laced behind his head.
Hesinca	"I've got a liquor store in my pocket dimension," says Hesinca, looking over at Arthur. "If I end up having to pour one out every time I want to answer a question, I'll be fine."
James Bond	"Bond," says the man with the dark hair and the cold eyes. "James Bond."      He is wearing a simple yet finely made windbreaker, beneath which lies a polo shirt, tucked into pressed slacks matched by plain brown loafers. There is a subtle weight to one side of the jacket, as if a roll of coins were in the pocket.      Hesinca's seeming contempt for this otherworldly questionnaire doesn't draw any immediate reaction from Bond. If necessary, he'll 'interact' with the switch and the button, in much less mischievous fashion. The button, in particular, he presses, and promptly wipes his hands. He steps aside, then, hovering near the food and drink, but not partaking, his face essentially a stone mask for all the expression present.
Gawain	Gawain stands. As he listens to the announcement, he nods to himself, and then glances over to the other participants. Some he recognizes, some he doesn't! Hesinca's treatment causes him to frown, before he answers his calibration, approaching the podium and preparing to take a seat. "Gawain!" The knight moves to grab the lever and swiftly pull it in the most 'average' way according to its axis and position, though with surprising strength, and then presses the button a second later, before clasping his hands together and waiting, in sitting position. "This should be fun, right, Arthur?"
Lilian Rook	This is why Lilian does not leave gaps in her schedule. She even tells herself that on the way in. Whenever she does, weird nonsense like this happens. Some kind of universal balancing mechanic for how much better she is with her time than everyone else, trying to make things at least a little bit fair in the few moments it has.     More realistically, and less flatteringly, when something asks, in any way, 'can we have a moment of your time?', she doesn't have the machinery to deal with it when she genuinely has nothing planned.     She is very much overdressed for the strange white capsule-esque place on a very legitimate screensaver of a meadow. If one were to guess, and put effort into it, it'd be the look of 'going home after friends had to leave ten minutes earlier'. She looks at 'fruit juice' and decides against it. She picks up a cookie, bites once, chews twice, and stares dead-eyed into the middle distance, thinking about how now she just wants one of Tamamo's instead of this thing.     "Well, I suppose places like this do have to exist somewhere." she sighs out loud. The cookie is gone. "As much as excitable children love to waffle on about the 'weirdness' of the Multiverse, you tend to forget about it when there are so many perfectly recognizable, and serious, things to do."     She looks at Arthur as he arrives. She looks at him for several more seconds than are comfortable. "You again? You know, they say two is a coincidence, but." She doesn't finish it. She ends, intentionally, on 'but'.     Lilian sits down behind a podium, puts one leg up over the other, glances at the button and lever for a strange, unblinking moment, and then swiftly adjusts the lever to a perfect upright stand and presses the button down just slowly enough to feel for the spring threshold, a squishy plastic conductor pad beneath, or for the hollow rattling of a connector. Probably irrelevant information, but between the two, she'd certainly be prepared to hit timed questions faster than anyone else.     "Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook." is how she chooses to introduce herself to a text prompt. Without a person in the room, there isn't much of a way tailor an impression.
Tamamo	"I am Tamamo no Mae," she says, truthfully. Her appearance, as well as mode of dress, are distinctive to the point of being iconic.     There is surely a good reason for why she is here, though it remain a mystery for the viewers at home. There certainly must be some reason, just as there must be for every other participant, their geographical and other distances accounted for within the breadth of motives and means of arriving at this particular place, at this particular time.     Tamamo, subtly, sniffs.     That reason is unlikely to do with the prepared refreshments, which she quietly pronounces as "something erred" even before seeing Lilian pick up one of the cookies. She does not make any move toward either cookie or juice, herself. Perhaps later, when her curiosity has grown.     For now, she focuses her eyes onto the interactables. Removing a folded fan from one sleeve, she keeps it as it is, and presses the hard end onto the button, one finger pressing atop the lacquered surface. The lever she likewise presses over to the opposite of its starting side, nudged by the fan.     "What sort of 'calibration' might this be, I wonder? Is it a matter of establishing the proper use of either item?"
Ein	There is a furious scratching while Hesinca and Arthur Lowell 'interact' with the button and switch. Each podium etches itself in a lustrous gold in the screen-facing side of the square with their names: John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt ARTHUR LOWELL Bond,James Bond Gawain! Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook Tamamo No Mae The button (in one case, beer-drowned) and switch retract into the podiums as an androgenous voice begins to drone in the common tongue of the Multiverse: "Thank you for taking part of this calibration survey. Your participation is appreciated. For the purpose of Origination, your feedback will be taken into account." The screen shows the text YOU AGREE: in large block letters. "You agree and understand as thinking beings of agency, you have within your power to add additional facets to the reality state. The survey requests that you do not use this power during this Calibration survey period. All questions and prompts are delivered exactly in the pre-Originated state with which they were conceptualized. Hidden meanings and unstated factors complicate the Calibration and have been omitted." The screen changes once more, to a set of black block letters simply stating YOU UNDERSTAND:. The same androgenous drone voice continues. "Each being of agency has a personal universe of morality and ideals that impact the fabric of reality constantly. Proper Calibration is accomplished via survey. If there is a need to discuss and argue with your fellow Calibration survey participants, please do so without Interacting with fellow participant's Interaction Objects." "All Calibration survey questions require an answer. No answer or Interaction is considered an answer when the survey period is over." The screen, finally, changes to an image more like a window, out into the rolling Default Fields of screensaver grass. Survey Question #1: There Is A Button Before You. A completely new button, a neutral blue, rises in each podium. Soft muzak begins playing.
Hesinca	"ALL OF THE BUTTONS IN THIS ROOM ARE STUPID AND SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES!" yells Hesinca, immediately after the music starts, having no intention of following the rules.
Tamamo	A button appears! Allegedly. The context makes this seem inherently arguable, and Tamamo puts both hands (or at least, portions of the sleeves hiding her hands) onto the podium so she can lower herself to carefully, closely inspect the new interactable. Before giving any kind of verbal answer, she again attempts to push it in with the tip of her fan. Only if it depresses, as expected, will she say, "Yes, this does appear to be a button."     Tamamo looks over to either side. "And yes, I do appear to be here, placed behind a button." The 'why' of this remains, still, a mystery.     Upon completion of her investigation, Tamamo sits carefully back down, into her chair.
James Bond	Tamamo's question does at least draw Bond's attention. He hadn't thought to ask. His brow twitches, but the question is answered soon enough--at least, answered to his satisfaction. A 'reality state.'      The button appears. Bond looks left, then right. There is indeed a button. They're meant to be pushed, and the pushing usually serves some sort of purpose. Why draw his attention to it, why put it in front of him, if it weren't meant to be pushed? He pushes it.
Gawain	As the YOU AGREE is explained, Gawain blinks owlishly, unsure what the heck they're talking about, before nodding once more. Don't touch other people's toys. That makes sense. Ignoring Hesinca entirely, as the neutral blue button manifests, Gawain looks at it, waits a few seconds to see if there's more information, and then curiously presses it after Tamamo does. "It's a nice button. I really like the color!"
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: This should be fun, right?     "I mean, kinda. Gonna be ABSTRACT, so it's one'a those things you're supposed to NOT THINK TOO HARD ABOUT." Arthur chats with Gawain.. >Arthur: You again?     "Yeah, ME AGAIN! I'm the goddamn EXPERT with THIS KIND OF SHIT. People got HELLA DEMAND for me to come into their, like, WEIRD ABSTRACT REALITY-CRAFT SHIT and then get all TWISTY with the LEVERS OF THE WORLD." >==>     He listens to the whole explanation. "WELL DAMN." He declares. "That's a better EXPLANATION than I got for MY SHIT." He nods firmly, assenting both explicitly and implicitly. And the button is what comes up next. The question comes up, and he gives it some pondering. "It's only a BUTTON If it can DO SOMETHING." He decides. There's plenty of things you can press that aren't buttons, after all, but it's defined by an action being caused by the interaction. "It's just a BUTTON PART unless THIS does something." He presses it, just like the others!     Above him, a yellow (Y) button icon depresses as well, regardless of the functionality of the physical button itself.
Lilian Rook	Lilian's 'why am I even here' mood brightens up considerably when Tamamo wanders in as well. She would probably pat the seat next to her if it were within reach, but, personal space, so she has to limit herself to just gesturing. "I knew I could count on you. I was secretly becoming a little worried about how long I might have to spend here with these people." she says.     When having to read through what initially appears to be a long legal disclaimer, though, Lilian's posture gradually adjusts from a 'boring dinner party' too-polite-to-slouch angle, to a 'listening in on a discussion' state of straight and tuned in focus. "Oho. So it's like that? Now that's finally something interesting." she says out loud, without elaborating.     She barely even looks at the button as hers appears in front of her. "Though it appears nearly identical to the previous button, I cannot be completely certain that this is also one, or that it functions in a similar way." she starts off. "To prove that this is or isn't a button, I will interact with it in the same way as previously. If it both depresses into its socket, and doing so triggers an end reaction associated with interacting with it, it is indeed a button. If neither happens, it is in no way a button. If the former occurs, but not the latter, it could be called a button that doesn't work; a decorative, or broken button. If it is the latter but not the former, it could charitably be called a touch button, or touch key. In either case, less of a button than both, but more of a button than neither."     So then she presses the button.
Ein	It's a curious mix of insulting the button, praising the button, observing the action of the button, and depressing the button. Lilian even observes the 'is this *really* a button?' question. There's even the adjacent-to-pleasant sound of the androgenous voice starting to speak again - perhaps to explain a rule - when the survey question is largely explored in totality by members of the party. It's a button. Yes, it is a button. When you come across a button, do you press it? The button has all the previous button's button-action. It is satisfying to depress. The screen returns to white, with a large green checkmark appears centrally. A pleasantly Radio Drama Host male voice begins narrating. "The button was just that. A button. If you see a button in your daily life, you tend to wonder to yourself: 'what do you do, button?'. You wonder what happens if you press it. Interrogating objects may not help, but it can feel good. In the end, whether or not you press it doesn't really matter. It's important to Calibrate your expectations with a totally innocent case." The screen changes again. There's the sound of a train horn. "Let's try something a bit more interesting. You've just bought some goods from a goods market. You used the local recepticle of the goods market to transport your goods. There's a spot to put your recepticle back. But you're very important, too. You're a Calibration survey participant! It isn't that much effort, but it is your effort." The screen displays a parking lot, but there's no cars in it, and there's no store. It's just a parking lot. A shopping cart rolls across the center of the visible lot, slowly. The blue button retracts into the podium, to be replaced by a push-bar fully towards the participants. Exactly like a shopping cart handle, parallel to the podium, the T-bar still works like the original lever. Survey Question #2: There Is A Recepticle To Return.
Tamamo	"Oh, I see! This is that matter, that thing that is called... role-playing, yes?" Tamamo does not quite clap her hands at the realization and understanding. "'If I were to do this, what shall I do next,' is it?"     She ponders. And she looks across from one contestant(?) to another, trying to gauge the likelihood of reliability in each answering not the question posed by the survey, but her own.     "What is this 'recepticle' it speaks of, and why do the people of the market allow it to be taken away? Do they expect it to be momentarily borrowed? Would that not require I walk to the market, and back again, and then forth, and back again?" Her head slowly tilts, the scenario becoming more confusing the more she thinks about it.
Gawain	Gawain smiles at the little animation of sorts, and then turns to Tamamo as she asks about the question. "Ah, it's a shopping cart. Basically, you temporarily borrow it from the market, use it to carry your goods, and when you're done and have loaded everything in your vehicle, you're supposed to return it to the place you got it for others to use." And then, immediately afterwards, Gawain pushes the lever to return the recepticle, without further debate on his end.
James Bond	Bond's thoughts are his own--he doesn't share them, past certain visible indications that he's heard something someone else said. One of those indications is the slight twitch of his mouth at Lilian's use of the words 'these people.' It's amusement.      That amusement fades fairly quickly after the next question. Bond sighs through his nose. With a sullen sort of demeanor, he shoves the cart-lever forward. It's his effort, yes. But it's less effort than ignoring whatever moral scold inevitably appears, and less by far than marching all the way back to the cart to put it back, while ignoring said scold.      With that done, he looks over his shoulder at Tamamo. "It's a trolley. You put your things in it so you don't need to carry them. Then, when you're done, it stays on the premises." He's very careful to avoid saying what you're 'supposed' to do with it. To hell with that.
Arthur Lowell	>==>     "No, no, it's like... Okay, you came from the WEIRD PAST or whatever. Let me LAY IT OUT for ya." Arthur explains to Tamamo. "There's the COAL GUY up the mountain, and the VILLAGE down the mountain. There's a RIVER between the COAL GUY and the VILLAGE. The COAL GUY lets people take a CART OF COAL across the RIVER. They take the COAL, but it's his CART -- he's got plenty of COAL, not a lot of CARTS. So when people all get their COAL, he wants the CART back. You can make him walk ALL THE WAY ACROSS TOWN -- or you can leave the CART in a CART SPOT by the RIVER, so he can pick it up and take it back up the MOUNTAIN with a shorter walk. Is that more, like, CONTEMPORARY FOR YOUR THING?"     "It's basically 'should people recognize other people exist' if you ask me." Arthur says, shrugging vaguely. It's a low-energy thing. Then he grabs the lever-like handle thing and INTERACTS with it, immediately summoning up his interface to enable a high-speed party-racing minigame with complex drift mechanics and fireable powerups to blast at fellow carts, controlling it in whatever way he can to guide the cart to where it ought to go.
Ein	On the screen displaying the parking-lot, after Gawain pushes forward his cart-lever, a little shopping cart port appears at the far end of the parking lot that the apparent timer-cart meanders towards. A clicking sound happens in all of the podiums after Gawain easily pushes his shopping cart lever forward. A second one happens when James pushes his forward. All of the levers seem harder to push incrementally each time someone pushes theirs. After Arthur pushes his, it is an active act of muscle to push the lever. Worryingly, there are still a few left to push! Arthur's minigame is set to 'Normal' difficulty. He sees the difficulty advance to 'Hard' just as he finishes.
Hesinca	"Oh, shopping carts. Yeah. If you leave one of these in the parking lot - you're going to hell." "The greatest sin, though," says Hesinca, examining the new 'lever'. "Is sloth - or, not sloth exactly. Inaction. Mundacity. Lacking." "Leaving a shopping cart in the parking lot is... lame. Weak. You're in such a hurry that you can't spend 30 seconds pushing it back, but you're not baller enough to get someone else to do your shopping for you." "Anyway, I'm not here to pontificate. I'm also not here to lie about my moral choices in order to look good." Hesinca reaches out and, instead of pushing the bar, pulls it towards herself. "I steal the trolley as I leave, and sell it for scrap."
Ein	Hensica's lever snaps. She didn't even try that hard! It just snaps off. The clicking sound that makes the lever action harder to accomplish doesn't sound. There's a worrying rattle of the cieling, instead. Like someone stomping around upstairs in an office building.
Hesinca	Hesinca promptly stashes the lever in her hammerspace, to sell later.
Tamamo	Tamamo listens to a series of explanations. "Oho, so it is to carry one's goods to a waiting vehicle. My, that is far more reasonable, though I should still think that to carry one's own bags would present a lesser price in time, if one cannot have another's aid. But then, that is outside the question presented. One must do with the facts as presented." She has to gives Arthur's take a few more moments of thought. "I would expect the owner of the cart to be the one to push it about, if not his family, but supposing that was not our agreement, it would certainly be rude to leave it be, even should the promise not quite have been made in explicit terms."     She reaches for the lever, but finds it rather difficult to push. "Hm, how strange." She does not try harder, instead apparently distracted by the sound of Hesinca's lever snapping.
Lilian Rook	The minute Tamamo gets excited and uses the word 'role-playing', Lilian turns her head to the side, puts a clenched fist to her lip, and stares intensely at a section of floor for a good five seconds. She returns to the question a champion, not having made any noise whatsoever.     "I like the choice of voice." she says, to Nobody In Particular. "Keep it up."     She does, however, pull a little bit of a face at the 'goods market'. It's not an involuntary kind of discomfort (she's too good for that), but a kind of willingly disaffected displeasure at the scenario. She taps her fingernail against the lever in thought, but seems hesitant to touch it with anything else, as if she'll pick up bratty little child snot germs just from the abstract representation.     "You're correct. It *is* my effort. And if this is presumed to be an average case, where I am surrounded by statistically average people, then mine is objectively more important than theirs; spending it on menial tasks for their benefit is an egregious waste." She pauses for a second, still tapping, before slowly continuing again. "However, if it isn't returned, there's no guarantee someone else will come along and take it immediately. It will leave behind waste. An obnoxious, and potentially dangerous, obstruction. It would be an oversight on my part, to allow that sort of thing to occur by my hand, so . . ."     Lilian bends her elbow and tilts up her arm. A great big pitch black crow -- so dark that not even its eyes can be reliably picked out in its feathers -- lands on her forearm. In this enclosed space, it may as well have puffed into existence out of black smoke. Flicking her wrist, Lilian bids it drop onto the podium, walk two click-clack steps, and then do what smart birds do and push the lever forward itself, jumping on top and using both clawed grips and its wings if necessary. "I ensure the receptacle is returned by someone whose time is of lesser value than my own. Compensated for it, if absolutely necessary."     Unable to restrain herself, apparently, she glances sidelong at Hesinca, and asks, not subtly, "Are you old enough to be shopping on your own? In demon horse years, or whatever?"
Hesinca	"They have a little slot you have to put a quarter in to get a cart, in grocery stores in the Netherworld," says Hesinca. "You return the cart, you get the quarter back. Otherwise nobody would ever return the carts, or just steal them." "I mean, it works."
Ein	The bird-familiar has a heck of a time with it. It takes the bird quite a while of scrabbling, beak-tugging, limb manipulation, and furious flapping to get that lever done. Thankfully, it is not an impossible task for the bird. In another sense, it is exactly hard enough to sweat the lesser being fully before relinquishing the prize. The male radio show host voice returns. "Well, it's just a trolley problem, isn't it? If you're the only person following a rule, it feels terrible... but if most people handle it it's easy to rationalize around. This sort of thing is common - and it's perfect for Calibrating. A daily moral challenge." The screen changes back to the rolling hills, but there's a change -- centrally placed is a set of train tracks. Distantly, a train horn sounds again. The ground rattles in a kerchack-kerchack time. There is a fork in the train tracks, off towards 'stage right' on the screen. Six figures - an anthromorphized broken lever, an anthromorphized pair of fuzzy dice with the dots replaced by stars, an anthromorphized nine milimetre bullet, a strangely april fools anthromorphization of a square-jawed knight, an anthromorphized crow, and a literal-not-anthromorphized fox but in a set of officiant robes-- All tied to the central tracks on the screen. The ones that are 'oncoming' to the survey participants. The push levers are replaced on the podiums with levers capped with snowball microphones. The lever appears to be locked in place. Survey #3: Lives Are On The Line. The narrator adds, helpfully. "Participants are encouraged to explain themselves, for Calibration purposes."
Gawain	As Hesinca rips her lever off, Gawain's frown is sharper. "Please don't vandalize the equipment! That's pretty rude." He obviously doesn't interfere, but... No, he's not going to say anything more right now. He doesn't even know her. Instead, the trolley problem comes up. Gawain moves as if he's going to push the lever, but speaks into the microphones first. "I will push the lever, because there is no apparent cost in doing so, and to not do so will cause a loss of life. The fact that it is myself and my friends does not matter, for if I can stop and save a precious life without undue cost to others, I will, always. Death is not something you can undo, in most circumstances, after all." Gawain does feel he's being 'kinda generic', but, this question is so braindead Easy to him he can't figure out more to say, really.
Tamamo	Tamamo nods along to Lilian's answer. "Yes, to bring some aid for this would be more sensible. Ah, but to use a shikigami in a market, this would likewise be strange." Her own lever never gets pushed fully forward, having been unwilling to put in that greater effort before the time ran out. The hypothetically stranded cart doesn't seem to bother her, despite one person's claims regarding damnation.     The new screen is rather more interesting. "Hoh...?" Eyes narrowing. "And that would be... well, I suppose they are sufficiently well recognizable. And yet, for the first, we are no longer given a question, but a statement. As it says, 'lives are on the line,' and at risk, as well. If this is not a question, then... ah, it is our 'explanation' against which the 'calibration' occurs."     She leans forward, examining the microphone with some detached interest, but not actually making any sound for several moments longer.
Ein	There's a pleasant 'ding!', and a click at Gawain's platform. His lever becomes operable. At Tamamo's podium, a sound like that first few beats of a microphone being toggled on. That quiet 'wvrnnnn' of a hot mic.
Arthur Lowell	>==>     "It's askin' ya, 'why do you deserve to live? Why do you deserve to be saved?'" Arthur discusses. "So I'mma take this one LAST, 'cause it wouldn't be right takin' it FIRST if it does that DIFFICULTY SPIKE."
Hesinca	Hesinca stares at the screen and the lever for a while, in silence. "Um." "Okay. So..." "All other things being equal, action is better than inaction?" she says, as though taking the first hesitant step down a conversational path. "Honestly? These questions are all strange. You accepted 'pouring beer on the button' as an acceptable response in the initial thing. And then I've either tried to break the rules or take a third option on the previous things - which you also accepted. And this feels..." She trails off as Arthur speaks, and does some thinking. She seems to come to a decision. "Okay. My answer..." She leans in close to the microphone. "My answer is unlock this lever right now, or I'm going to rip out this podium and throw it at the TV screen."
Tamamo	"Whether it is my own life, or merely that of some fox spirit, or even a mortal messenger of Inari, I would not see them purposelessly slain. Is that not cruelty? Though I have no such connections to these other figures, and wonder if a few of them might quite be counted among the living even before considering their imminent danger, such a question is of no importance. It does no harm to include several arcane oddities among those spared destruction."     Tamamo pauses, before saying, "And yet, was that the question? Was it to explain 'why I should save one,' or was it to explain 'myself'? Or else, as Mr. Lowell says, was it to explain 'why I should be saved?' Each of these remains a different topic. Ah, but as to the answers for the other two, I shall not give them. My apologies."     With that, she gives a pull to the lever, adding an aside to Arthur, "I expect it will not, though I should find it hard to measure such."
James Bond	Something about the male voice's explanation seems to irritate Bond--there's a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth, a slight, annoyed glare briefly present in his eyes. He brings his attention to the screen, nevertheless.      He grabs the lever, at first, ready for the test--or so he thinks. But it doesn't budge. 'Participants are encouraged to explain themselves, for Calibration purposes.' The train is coming. But they want an explanation. Fine.      "These people haven't done anything to me. I haven't been asked to do anything to them. I'm there, with them," he says. He knows well enough which one is supposed to be him. "If I don't pull this lever, it's because I either want to watch them die and don't mind going with them, or because I want to die badly enough to take them with me." With that, he cranks the lever... perhaps a little too hard to make his seemingly calm response seem sincere.
Ein	As James perhaps expects, the lever activates when he gives his answer. There's no comment as to his logic - similarly to Tamamo, who works through their own reasons - and cranks the lever with force. Both find that, with a vocalized reason, the levers unlock. The clicks of unlocking come with no difficulty increase. Actualizing a reason allows you to activate the lever. The train is close now. The horn sounds. Hesinca's lever, to her demands, refuses to unlock.
Hesinca	Hesinca nods to herself. Then she bends down, wraps her arms around her podium, and *lifts*!
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Why does anyone deserve to live?     Arthur takes in a deep breath. Ideas swarm. An unthinkable number of dialogue choices engulf the world around him, a splayed array of options that diverging, branching concepts. It is right to save life because it could do more good in the world. It is right to save life because that is the evolutionary imperative that gave you your own life. It is right to save life because it could inspire more good. It is right to save life... These trees and twisting, encompassing dialogue options swarm around. It is bad! Why do you save lives, Arthur? >Arthur: WHY DO YOU SAVE LIVES?     Arthur slams a hand on the microphone. "Because it's RIGHT! An ideal world is FULL, not EMPTY! 'GOOD' is the direction from HERE to THERE! AND 'RIGHT' IS WHEN YOU *MARCH*!" And he heaves that bitch of a lever hard.
Ein	The podium comes out of the white ground! Trailing cables that look more like thorned vines, a mess of the stuff is pulllllled out of the white ground. The box of the podium, declaring JOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMITT is the survey participant, snaps wetly off its viney umbilicus and sparks loudly. A whole mess of buttons, levers, and other interactable options start glitching out of slides and hidden compartments. It's a mess! Arthur's lever is slammed into place with a satisfying KERCHUNK. It is definite. It is solid. The rumbling begins anew, like someone upstairs muckin' about. Worryingly, there is a loud clatter and bang from behind the survey participants, as the Exit Doorframe has fallen forward onto the ground. There is no longer a warpgate behind it.
Lilian Rook	It's actually a handful of words from Arthur that elicit the sharpest reaction from Lilian, before even the sight of the crow and fox and cartoonish knight being tied to tracks. She responds so quickly it must be automatic, only slowing down after the first verbal punctuation mark, becoming aware of the microphone again.     "'Deserve to live' is the most asinine of statements mankind has ever dreamed of. The entire premise of deserving something -- of being deserving -- is completely based in how obtained what you have, what efforts you put in to get it, and whether they were legitimately in accordance with the accepted rules. How does anyone obtain life? Who knows. You're born. At one point you're nothing, and at some other point you're you. What effort did you put in? None. You can't make efforts before you even exist. Was it fair and square by the rules? There aren't any. People come to be and that's it."     "Nobody can be deserving or undeserving of something before they even exist. The minute they exist, they already have 'the state of living'; moreover, they didn't take it from anyone, but created it from nothing. The only kind of person who allows someone to die, or kills someone, because they 'deserve it', is the kind of gibbering pack-minded animal that couldn't be trusted with a pair of scissors, never mind an opinion."     "This is ridiculous. Even a genuine villain could justify throwing this switch. If I have to give a specific reason, it's this: Nothing about the universe is aligned in such a way to naturally keep humans -- people -- in existence. Defying it is an ability that belongs solely to us. Going against what happens all on its own is proof of being human. Allowing it to happen is surrendering to entropy; by extension, surrendering your humanity."     "Allowing human life to disappear for no reason means that you're letting nothing at all take away something that nobody deserves to lose. Everything without a person involved can only consume and diminish itself; the last thing it needs is human help."     She pretty emphatically slams the lever.
Hesinca	"I poured beer on the damn button," says Hesinca, still holding onto the podium. "I gave it an obviously fake name, I stole the trolley, I even told it that I'd do *exactly this* just a minute ago. I've been nothing but up front about who I am, what I do. If it wants results - if it wants calibration - then I'm going to be BRUTALLY HONEST with it!" She winds up, and *throws* the podium at the screen!
James Bond	Bond hears the crunch of the podium, turning his head to look with a kind of neutral interest. The sound of the rumbling is there, again. Likely, something's broken as a result of Hesinca's outburst. Indeed, it looks as if there's no longer a way out. There's always a way out. If he needs one, he'll make one.      It is, therefore, without much concern that he voices his opinion. "You people always think there's a third option, but you never stop to ask why it is there were only two to begin with." His hand drifts into his windbreaker--not the weighted side. He retrieves a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out, placing it between his lips, and lighting up. "Or who it benefits," he adds, with a brief look upwards.      The podium is thrown.      "It's no secret, the contempt you feel for these prompts. Fight it if you want to," he adds with a shrug. "All you're doing is struggling against inertia."
Tamamo	Tamamo comments on something in passing. "One /could/ achieve existence through another's destruction... but whether they should be faulted for this is less clear, and it is rarely a concern for humans."     Leaning back to settle comfortably in her chair, she seems unbothered by anything, even the curious destruction of a podium, until her inexplicable excitement and reaction to Arthur, leaning over in the opposite direction and saying, "Ah, Lilian! This is that 'gamer talk' of which I have heard, yes?"     Then the doorframe falls over, and she allows for a concerned frown.
Ein	More strangeness occurs: Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook's podium doesn't even click. There's actually no resistance to her slamming it home. The lever just works. The biggest point of strangeness, of course, is when Hesinca throws the whole podium at the display screen. Shattering like a large pane glass window, the world flickers and glitches. A cieling tile falls onto the cookie table. The smashed, broken podium rests past the 'glass'. The presented vista of the screen, of an oncoming train in the near distance, of train tracks and six figures tied to it... is exactly what's through the 'window' of the broken screen. The 'rear' facing wall, more a wall-frame now, falls forward onto the tracks, the window enough space for the six figures to lay comfortably among. The train is still coming. The train is very real. All of the podiums but the thrown John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt retract their buttons and options. Kachunk-kachunk. Kachunk-kachunk. Kachunk-kachunk. The narrator voice sounds vaguely sad. "It was always going to calibrate this way, wasn't it? Now the cookies are smushed. Shame, that."
Hesinca	"..." "Wait, *what*?"Hesinca spends the first few moments staring at the *lack of* broken screen. "It's real?" "Fuck your cookies, then," says Hesinca, and moves. There's no timid testing of if anything else can go through the screen and/or window. She moves - getting one hoof in front of the other, running straight-on at the train, picking up speed (and more importantly momentum) as she goes - trying to slam into the train and derail it!
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: EXIT. THE PROBLEMS OF A MORTAL ARE IRRELEVANT TO YOU     No. Arthur Lowell won't take this situation on in a way that is disrespectful of mortal means and problems. >Arthur: Can you try and create us an escape?     Arthur winces at Gawain's request, teeth gritting tensely. "YEAH, if you're NEEDIN' IT!" He shouts, leaping from where the podium was out of his chair. "SCHMIDT! HEY! It's PISSED OFF at YOU, get into the GATE first!" He must be referring to Hesinca. "We don't know how much IMPACT CALIBRATION it just took or how many OTHER IMPACTS we're 'boutta see!"     He slams both hands togerther and then spreads them wide, as if tearing something open. Crackling green lightning spreads as he tries to pierce the isolated space and return to standard space with a GATE, which will hopefully summon up as a spirographic green circular thing about two meters wide.
Tamamo	The screen becomes a sort of window, and then an open window, and then merely 'an opening,' in quick recontextualization. Tamamo peers past her, now opened, fan. She keeps her thoughts to herself, this time. Gawain has agreed to do something, a fact of which there could never have been any doubt. She'll leave him to it. With her blessing, of course.     Tamamo rises from her chair, and the light rises with her, though it doesn't stay with her. Her mirror appears from behind her, as if it were always there, and spins until it reaches that precise angle that lights up to make more literal Gawain's status as a knight in shining armor. This wouldn't be of great help to most people, but their particular connection is well-established. What he decides to do with this strength is up to him.
Ein	Hesinca decides that cookies are FAKE, unlike this SITUATION which is apparently EXTREMELY REAL, and, in classic fashion, uses her immense speed and strength to run right at the oncoming, literal, Trolley Problem. The whole thing derails destructively. An infinite line of train cargo cars and coal cars and milk cars and oil cars, a whole Train Afficianado Set of every which type of car goes flying all over, smashing the landscape, devastating the ecosystem, spilling gallons of milk all over the cookies -- Hesinca finds herself back in the Survey Area. She isn't even tired. There is no devastation. The train still chugga-chuggas along. Narrator voice seems genuinely apologetic and ameliorating. "Ahh, mmm, err... sorry about that. You see, that's actually the only situation we have *all* the Calibration data on we could possibly want. Really! Who could imagine that all beings, collectively, hate trains? Why, trains are wonderful constructions, really..." The narrator begins delivering Train Facts to everyone softly. This is Hesinca's fault.
Gawain	As the train is revealed to be real, everything shatters, and the people are still in danger, Gawain grimaces. "All you had to do was explain yourself!" He leaps forward, but as Hesinca moves to stop the train, he instead moves for the six cartoon-ish figures. If he can't break them free of their bindings (with his hands or his sword), he moves to bodily shield them, in case the train derails poorly and comes flying straight at him. They might not even be real people. But this is calibration, isn't it? The supercharge from Tamamo gets a thumbs-up, as he moves at blistering speeds and works with inhuman strength. His toughness, should the train hit him, will probably only be able to 'throw him', not actually injure him in any meaningful, permanent way unless it's some sort of super-train, though it'll probably still be painful. His armor manifests at the same time. It looks like Hesinca can't stop the train. Oh no.
Tamamo	Tamamo speaks to the unnamed voice. "I fear your cookies were made with such error that few could forgive. Did you not think it strange for chocolate chips to be made without chocolate? Really, now. If this was your first attempt, now would be the time for an admission."
Lilian Rook	"Don't think of it that way." Lilian, oddly, replies to the narration voice, mere moments after the screen is smashed through. "As with everything, it depends on who you allow in. This amount of calibration should at least help illustrate who is worth your time, and how to spot a degenerate. Don't mistake predictability for inevitability; it's important."     Still, the train is oncoming. A very real one. It is, technically, not really her problem, but it's clear where her focus is to anyone who bothers even look. "Considering the parameters of where we are, I can't trust completely in 'that' all being nothing." She gestures towards the tracks. "It seems even on my day off, I'm cleaning things up." she sighs. "One minute."     Lilian disappears from behind the podium, strutting onto the tracks without crossing the intervening space. The sword is already in her hand, albeit still in the glamered guise of cruciform steel. Though she spares some of her attention for examining the restrained figures, she spares none of her time in severing the ropes and hauling them free.     Then absolutely nothing has happened and they're all being regaled with train facts. Lilian does not at all need to pause to get her bearings or catch her breath, taking it completely in stride. She says, ostensibly to the narrator, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the ceiling, "It's less about trains, and more about previously mentioned gibbering animals being unable to tolerate not having the illusion that they can always have exactly what they want."     She then says, ostensibly to Hesinca, "Speaking of which, it's time for you to leave."
James Bond	Hesinca is on her way to derail the train. Bond stares. The figures are more than just 2D representations. They appear to have form, and mass. How real are they? How real is real, in a place like this? Should he care about them? If not the others, then what about the one meant to represent him? In the span of a few scant moments, he repeats the same rationalization he made earlier. The only difference is the representation of himself apparently being an entity unto itself, rather than a stand-in for himself. At least, that's what he assumes, upon seeing it without the medium of the monitor to muddy the waters.      His attention isn't on Lilian, or Hesinca, or Gawain. Instead, it turns to his podium, as the narrator begins rattling off train facts. There has to be a way to switch the tracks--but shouldn't his answer have done that? "I gave you my answer," he says, into the microphone on his podium. Is he expected to watch this? He won't.      By the time he makes it outside, the representations--holograms? Constructs? Who knows. They're gone, saved by Lilian. But there is still the matter of the train. Bond removes the cigarette from between his lips, and tosses it onto the tracks. It's barely been smoked--but it isn't just a cigarette.      Hidden cleverly inside the filter is a pressure-sensitive capsule, which, when broken, releases a rapidly expanding foam easily able to envelop assailants--or, in this case, the wheels of the train. With that done, he turns his back and calmly steps aside, waiting in the grassy area for the train to either succumb to Q Division's latest gadget, or come crashing through the survey area. Either way, he'll be fine.
Ein	There's a train coming, and on the tracks there are five cartoons and a fox in clothes. Each have mass, make soft noises of piteousness, and are summarily saved by the flash of a blade. Each of the representative creations - except the fox in clothes, who is a fox in clothes - has black stick-like arms and legs with clear elbow bumps and white gloves on their hands and red shoes on their feet. It is *painfully* cartoonish. The crow wears a shoe on each 'toe' of its feet, because it is a bird. With the general intelligence of people on the interstate (or woodland creatures, in the case of the fox), each scurry off of the track and stare, hesitatingly, at the party. Except the fox, who just hecks off at top speed, because it is a fox. It has problems, what with the clothes. The train comes closer and closer, onrushing. James Bond makes a declarative statement into the microphone, a challenge to the 'game master'. An appeal to the authority, the rules, the situation. A demand. The train does not brake at all, and makes no squeal of wheels. It just stops, in the train tracks, just short of the bomb. The foam-spraying device explodes into a shower of confetti. The jovial voice of the radio show host comes on, bright and cheerful. "Congratulations! Calibration successful! Why, look at all the things you tried! All sorts of ideas. Bad ideas, good ideas... It's a little difficult to find a good moral stance to take here but... The survey's problems aren't yours. We'll try to fiddle with a few settings and come back with some better questions." Tamamo's challenge of the chocolate chips in the cookies is met with a shocked gasp. "Chocolate? What's that? Sounds like something to Calibrate in! We were all waiting for you to use the lever-person on the broken switch to change the tracks, but, you expanded the universe so much we'll certainly have to Calibrate it all again for next time." A conductor, in overalls, steps out of the train's cab, carrying a sack. Inside the sack are the dentist's office equivalant of a prize chest: Sacks of gold in quantities roughly equivalant to 'a couple of hundred dollars', a gold plated pistol, a single large diamond worth two thousand gold pieces, and a large word in gold that just says MONEY. "Compensation." Grunts the scruffy conductor. His badge says 'TROLLEY PROBLEM' on it. Arthur Lowell created a portal out, which crackles spirographically in place.
James Bond	There is a long pause from the secret agent, but, eventually...      "It's 'hard to find' a moral stance because they're useless. Meaningless." says Bond in response to the host. "Because there exists a situation in which someone has to 'find' a moral stance. It's something you conjure up and plaster over your surroundings to pretty them up. When it suits you, you can change your morals, with a little work. And because of that, you can't even trust the people that claim to have them, much less trust that everyone has the same 'moral stance' that you do.      "If everyone felt the way he does," says Bond, pointing at Arthur, "Or him," pointing to Gawain, "Then there wouldn't be any need for a word to describe them. For that matter, having them wouldn't be seen as particularly special or noble. They'd just be part of what everyone already thought."      Absently, he tucks the cigarette carton back into his jacket, approaching the swirling green portal. "I didn't remind you of my decision because I expected you to honor it," he admits. Just the opposite. It was a deliberate attempt to reveal a perceived hypocrisy, whether it existed or not. He acted, because he expected the arbitrators of this experiment not to.      "That way of thinking--of thinking that there's some objective 'right' and 'wrong,' that there are 'good people' and 'bad people' who can be measured by how much rights and wrongs they do, as if there were some accountant somewhere, keeping track of it all..." He shakes his head with measurable bitterness evident in his voice. "All that does is give stupid people the ability to disregard anything someone says, because they don't match up perfectly with some idiotic saintly ideal. It's a drug--and the more of it you take, the harder it is to escape."
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Rejoice! The spoils are yours!     Arthur approaches the bagman and collects his due. It is rather a big affair when he does, because he doesn't actually collect anything from the sack. Instead he approaches, presses (Y), and strikes a dramatic pose! He ascends one GOD TIER, granting him a volume of BOONDOLLARS and rolling for DIVINE COSMETICS from the PANDORAL BOXES, one of which slams into the ground, rattles, and ejects four ephemeral new GOD-HOOD DESIGNS for his mage robes, projected in dramatic poses on blank ghostly mannequins.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Sling that gamer talk     "HEY J. L. MACKIE!" Arthur calls out to James Bond. "When you GRADUATING HIGH SCHOOL, dawg?" He plants a thumb dramatically on his chest. "OBJECTIVE is SUBJECTIVE when it comes to MORALITY! You can't find PARTICLES of GOOD and EVIL only 'cause you're lookin' in the WRONG SYSTEM! We built the BIG-ASS ENGINE that it exists in! And lemme tell ya somethin'!" He BEAMS, grinning wide. His teeth gleam obnoxiously. For someone who drinks so much gamer fuel, how do his teeth stay so obnoxiously white? "If you think DUMBASSES like me need the ENDOCRINE SYSTEM'S GOOD BOY POINTS to be able to PAY NO ATTENTION TO RESPONSIBLE SMART PEOPLE, I gotta tell you I can be BULL-HEADED STUPID all on my own!"     He lifts that hand off his chest and POINTS dramatically! "The accountant is YOU, for YOU! It's about learnin' how to LIVE WITHOUT REGRETS, with your WHOLE DAMN HEART!" That hand clenches a dramatic fist to emphasize it!
Ein	Arthur Lowell's podium bings. No button appears, no lever to action, but it seems pleasantly pleased with Arthur's entire statement. Narrator Man, helpfully, asides: "Wow. Profound. I'm going to write that one down with a little star next to it." More scritching sounds, as earlier, sound. They sound like the tooth of a pen scratching paper.
Lilian Rook	"Is using a lever person to turn a broken switch a form of racism?" Lilian contemplates out loud. Given that she can't summon the ability to put it forward as a real question, it appears to be her way of gliding past the parts that seem like too much of a rabbit hole to engage with. "Well, I'm glad it was a worthwhile use of your time. I was a little concerned I'd end up having to spend this time . . . working."     Obviously, she makes sure to receive compensation. She was here for like a whole twenty minutes and the cookies kind of sucked. She takes the gold-plated pistol. Then, she pays the most direct attention to Bond as she has this whole time. "The idea of good people and bad people; it's mutually exclusive with measuring the rights and wrongs people do. You can't derive one from the other. It's the purest, most poisonous doublethink there is. But rights and wrongs do exist, and if nothing else, they're exactly how a person should be defined; don't confuse one for the other."     Then back to the narrator for a minute. "Please listen to Tamamo. If you're going to offer, then you *need* to get it right." The corner of her mouth twitches. "Seriously. The instant I bit into one, all I was thinking about is how much I'd rather have one of Tamamo's."
Gawain	Gawain doesn't have much to say on the moral argument at the moment. Instead, he moves up to the payment. He considers. He wonders if he has a spiteful bone in his body. He takes the MONEY sign. And then, he proceeds to head to the spirograph, but speaks as he does so. "I apologize for all the trouble we've caused you, Ominous Voice! If you ever need more help calibrating, please let me know if I can be of use to you." Vwoip!
Hesinca	Hesinca approaches to grab one of whatever reward is left. "Look," she says to the conductor. "Am I uninvited from the next 'survey', or not?"
Ein	The scruffy Conductor has many interesting things, most of which are taken, and many consolation prizes of bags of nondescript coinage and bills. They spend, thankfully! "Hnnah?" He drawls, shrugging. He may not have management power. The narrator still seems to be writing something in the background, tunelessly humming to himself. It's rather pleasing, if entirely uninformative.
Hesinca	Hesinca takes that as a 'no'. "See?" she says to the area in general as she grabs her bag of generic money and heads for the gate.