Scene #7601: Sapient Heuristics

Owner	Pose
Persephone Kore	The Sapient Heuristics laboratory is a space station that nearly shares an orbit with Pluto, population 700. From this distance, the Sun is still by far the largest star in the sky, but it's small and dim enough it doesn't hurt to look at anymore. The night sky yawns out endlessly in all directions, only marked by the bisecting galactic plane of the Milky Way. There are a few reasons to build something as far out in the middle of nowhere as possible. You might do it if you're especially responsible and working with something very dangerous. You might do it if you're experimenting with extremely sensitive things that could be disrupted by the pollution and hubbub of civilization. Or you might do it if it is very, very important you be left alone. For Sapient Heuristics, all three of these things are true. Approaches are by spaceship or by artificial warpgate. Both will land you in the same place: a hangar-like entrance area, insulated from space with a classy shimmering red forcefield on its open side. Cables and boxes are neatly bundled and stacked; walking-paths are gently recessed into the floor, meandering around logistical equipment, docked ships, and potential workplace hazard zones. Their curves gently suggest where you ought to go. A trio of identical teenage girls with long, flowing dark hair leap weightlessly (in defiance of the artificial gravity) between stacks of boxes and the tops of ships, never touching the ground; one leads and the other two follow in her steps as closely as possible, obviously playing some kind of game. They wave at the arriving Elites in unison, but don't stop. Heavy airtight doors at the back of the hangar automatically open into the station's interior as you approach- not an two-part airlock designed to cycle, but a safety measure in case the forcefield outside fails. The whole station, actually, has that painstakingly-overengineered meets feng-shui vibe, the product of a truly obsessive architect who has never heard of "good enough". The docking bay's interior doors have reinforced corners in full expectation that someone will bang a heavy box against them carelessly. The walls are thick and soundproofed to dim the noise of departures and arrivals.
Persephone Kore	The interior immediately has the vibe of a community space, like a library or a coffeeshop or a particularly cozy mall. There are ample places for someone to rest, people-watch, or have a quiet conversation in a cozy corner- which several people are. The dominant color is shades of a soothingly rich crimson, which really shouldn't work as a background, but as your eyes adjust to it eventually becomes comfortable. The color fatigue of a red environment makes the frequent decorative plants built into medians, shelves, or walls pop with an entrancingly impossible vibrancy. The station's surfaces curve and roll with a sleek, geometrically-pleasing smoothness; hard corners are rare. Dr. Carpathia is sitting on a comfortable-looking bench nearby. She's a woman in her fifties with sandy-blonde hair, a sharp chin, and an equally sharp nose. She looks like an unkindly grandma de-aged twenty years; proud but fretting, upright but tensed. Her wool sweater is unseasonable, because it isn't hot in here but it isn't cold either. Long fingernails tap against her tortoiseshell glasses, not because they need adjusting, but just to find something to do. "It's good to have you here," she says as she stands up, in a tone that implies skeptical enthusiasm at best. A slightly wizened hand is held out to shake. Other people seem significantly more starstruck; staff-members going about their day stop and stare, or mutter to each other. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and Carpathia has succeeded in making this feel like a village- but it is one to which you are, for now, outsiders. "I expect you'll want to see the Decompression Chambers first? Or perhaps meet some of our subjects, if you haven't already." "Actually, I'm unsure how much you've been told at all. Persephone runs her mouth, but always about the silliest things."
Staren	Staren steps out of the warpgate and looks around. She's not sure what she was expecting, but... this looks good. It looks good! Well-designed. Spying the girls waving at her, she waves back uncertainly, spending a few seconds trying to figure out the mechanics of their game before wondering HOW they're flying and reaching into the bag for something like a flipphone but the top half is transparent green, scanning various fields and energy around them before following the rest of the group through the airlock. She takes in the... common area? And, when the voice from before speaks up, her ears turn first, followed by her head. Staren smiles and shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you! Staren Wiremu... ah, Decompression Chambers? What are those? I'm /really/ curious about how it is you're uplifting people. What Persephone says, that everyone else deserves what she has... is that Sapient Heuristics' goal?"
Kukuru	With the invitation to visit Sapient Heuristics delivered and the coordinates given, it doesn't take Kukuru all that long to get there. It just takes her a while to actually start going there, which is why she ends up arriving just on time instead of early or late, but not by walking. No, she has to be a little extra and appear in a dark energy cloud with a wobbly effect all around it, almost as if she's shaking herself out of that thing instead of stepping out of it smoothly. Her eyes are drawn to those rounded surfaces almost immediately even as she slows to a stop in front of Dr. Carpathia. "This place looks like it'd be pretty comfortable to rest in... Ah. Thanks for inviting us." She speaks in a pleasantly sleepy tone, even looking like she's not completely awake yet despite looking right at the doctor and giving her a too-light handshake that makes it obvious that she's trying quite hard not to crush her hand in the process. She's dressed in her usual white top with the green-to-brown high waisted skirt, although the sleeves are a little frayed at the edges. "I remember Phony talking about this place a bit, mmhm. Decompression chambers... Is that like a massage room or an eating area? Because that could be pretty nice to start with." Kukuru suggests, glancing over at Staren briefly before nodding. "Oh, right. My name's Kukuru. Ku-ku-ru. Nice to meet you, Doctor Carpa."
Flamel Parsons	"Good to be here!" Flamel agrees, with an eager, friendly handshake. "The name's Flamel Parsons, agent of a vague yet menacing government agency. Thanks for the open house! Let me know where to check my classified memories on the way out." So cheerful! "I know mostly about Persephone! And mostly with hands-on experience. But I love the sound of a Decompression Chamber! I'm always interested in new psionics equipment." He pulls his hand back finally, settling a little back and ready to follow. "Your psions too, but, it's the strangest thing, I couldn't read a damn thing from the one I met so far! Felt rude to try on the other three, out there."
Persephone Kore	Staren's flip-phone-like device determines that the apparent triplets are each surrounded by a small field of psionically-distorted physics, like they've somehow just grabbed a cartoonish dial reading "GRAVITY" and turned it way down. Even their hair flows and billows like smoke, trailing behind their movements weightlessly. Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly at all, their "energy signatures" are exactly identical to each other. Kukuru's nickname of "Dr. Carpa" earns a little face-twitch from the doctor, but she doesn't say anything. "Spaces have a profound impact on human thinking," she responds instead, focusing on Kukuru's questions about the architecture. "A splash of red creates a state of excitation, but in saturation it becomes soothing instead. Enclosed spaces give a sense of comfort and security; wide-open spaces, opportunity and freedom. Curves naturally direct the gaze, and sharp angles arrest it. And genuine plant life is simply vital." "As for you, young man-" she means Flamel, of course!- "I'm surprised. Ordinarily it isn't reading Persephone that's the problem. She'll pour those feelings right into your head if you give her half a chance." She starts walking as she talks, hands constantly fidgeting with something. Curving hallways with cozy reading nooks open up into a glass-domed arboretum that shows the Milky Way overhead; a genuine wizened, drooping tree is the centerpiece, surrounded by smaller bushes, lush grass, and benches next to meandering walk-paths. Instead of soil there's translucent cyan hydroponic gel that refuses to stick to shoes or clothes. "The fundamental principle of our work," she explains in a well-rehearsed voice, "is that all sapient minds exist nontrivially. They have a 'realness' which is not merely subordinate to the patterns of neurons, circuitry, or what-have-you that embody and represent them in the plane of content. An ordinary mind like mine, of course, is not very real at all. I cannot merely will something into being. Reality is too strong for me to overcome." A pair of young adults, a rough-and-tumble girl and a prim-and-proper boy, are having some kind of fight off in a grassy corner; it doesn't look serious or like a proper spar, more the kind of just-for-fun scuffle that happens between near-siblings. She swings at him with a wooden baseball bat and it hits something invisible inches from his body. He gestures, and she presciently ducks under a subtle ripple in the air before shoulder-checking him onto the grass. She laughs, and he grouses without really meaning it. Carpathia doesn't remark aside from despairingly shaking her head. "It follows that if a mind can be made more real than the ambient reality-pressure of the world," she continues, "it could manifest observable exoteric effects simply by deciding them, supplanting the cause-and-effect of the normatively-real material world with its own cognito-narrative dynamics. Like Persephone does." She keycards through a door, tacks down a more utilitarian-looking hallway, and arrives at a series of insulated white chambers with large observation windows. Each of them is maybe the size of a small apartment, thick-walled, with a sealing door and a control panel on the outside. "But, alternately, we can make the world locally less real, and thereby enable anyone to manifest similar effects under controlled conditions. Would you like to give it a try?" "It's quite safe, nowadays. Though it wasn't always. I believe Persephone's currently in the Hot Zone herself, actually." Carpathia nods towards the end of the hallway, past the other Decompression Chambers. There's a door there, but it's distorted, shimmering in ways metal shouldn't really shimmer. The wall around it is superficially cracked and blackened, though structurally sound.
Silver Carnation	Silver Carnation has been here the whole time. Just nobody noticed because she was wearing glasses and being quiet. Clearly. Agnes, as she goes by in civilian uniform, is dressed in a nice comfy top and jeans, blue-hair still present, with round glasses on. She watches the scuffle in the corner, and stifles a laugh and a cheer. As they walk forward, keycarding through the door, she finally speaks up. "That sounds incredible! I wanna try. What's the Hot Zone, anyways?"
Kukuru	Kukuru lets out an awed noise as Dr. Carpathia goes into the specifics about the location, looking around again to try and absorb all of that. The sounds of that noise is close to that of a parent trying to humor a child, but the expression on her face suggests that the awe is actually genuine and not just patronizing. "Whoa... That's really impressive. No wonder you've got everything put together so well around here." She points at one of the higher curved sections in particular. "I think... Hm. Maybe later." She doesn't elaborate on that yet. Instead, she chuckles and looks over at Flamel and Staren when they show a shared interest in the Decompression Chamber. "It sounds like we're all interested in that, then... Oh. Yeah, Phony's got a fun way of talking." She hums softly as she follows along, eyeing the domes and the stars above, pausing to look at the drooping tree as if she's trying to spot for something on it, and the benches... Sadly, the benches get ignored. "How does the inside of your head become more real than theo utside of your head? That sounds... Uh." She's visibly grimacing as Carpathia goes into science-speak, glancing over at Staren and Flamel to gauge their reactions to it. At least the testing offer sounds a bit more logical. "Sure. I don't really get what you said, but that sounds like it could be fun... And a hands on example usually helps." Only when 'Agnes' speaks does Kukuru finally notice her, furrowing her brow at the mention of a Hot Zone. "Is it actually hot? Because a place that's too warm is... Feels kind of gross, right?"
Flamel Parsons	"It's not who Persephone is that's so tough for me." Flamel chatters. "It's how. I'm specialized for astral projection! But, you know, can't get inside." As the explanation progresses, it sounds more and more comprehensible. "I got the feeling it might be kinda like that! So, instead of psychic organs or faculties that translate thought into psychokinetics, it's a local priority override! That would explain a lot of why she expresses a lot of psychic power without having psychic technique." "Your Decompression Chambers sound a little bit like a Brain Tumbler! Though, I guess it's more about getting one into their own headspace by pulling that headspace out, rather than a mindscape inversion. This explains that strange proximity-based aura I saw Persephone displaying before!" He looks over to the Hot Zone, and his eyebrows shoot up a bit. "Is that more or less relaxing for her, getting decompressed like that?" He can't help himself, he HAS to ping his clairvoyance here to see what the sonar-pulse of psychic senses produces, as far as phantasmal images and other suchlike go, near that door.
Staren	Staren listens with interest as the good doctor describes the design sense of the station. She does respond with a 'Hm?' when Flamel is addressed that way, then the 'oh, right' thought flashes across her face. As they walk along, when she spies the color scheme of the 'dirt', she briefly rubs her scarf between her fingers. But it's greener, and the shirt it's worn over is red without the faintest hint of purple. Still, it feels a bit like she's walking through architecture colored with the Player 2 version of her own color scheme. (Dark Staren isn't the P2 version, he's the 'dark' optional palette -- not the shadowy blue version of yourself you face after defeating all other fighters, but the palette that's there for people who want black and red colors in VS mode.) But then the doctor starts speaking again and Staren focuses on that. Minds have a fundamental realness? "Hmmm. In addition to your own successes, it would explain some things about how the Multiverse works, and about how many worlds' magic works." Staren does turn to glance at the two roughhousing, eyebrow raising as she observes the psychic abilities at play, and waves the scanner in their direction. The lecture continues. A /real/ mind wills things to happen? Memories come to mind of being a small child, having asked something about magic and getting the sort of long-winded infodump Staren themself later became prone to from a fox-eared young woman in a red witch hat and cape. "Hmm..." And yet, this is a different angle of describing things. "Cognito-narrative dynamics... it doesn't just alter matter. It alters the /rules/?" She mutters an afterthought, "Makes them more fair and safe, like play..." Lost in thought, it's a couple of seconds /after/ Carpathia asks about giving it a try that Staren processes what was said. Her eyes widen and her ears perk up. "What? Really?? How did you..." She frantically sends mental commands to the scanner. "O-o-of course! How do I do it, do I just... will it?"
Undivided Queens	Well no shit two particular very important rulers within the Concord are going to be here. The one who gets to make flighty decisions about where to go has been absolutely entranced with all the 'silly things' Persephone has been on about since she started. Seilatiya has to dial it down to get into a space station like this. She changes absolutely nothing about her excessively royal garb, vaguely Roman-inspired but certainly only a locally contemporary addition to something flowingly east-Asian, in many different layers of white, red, gold, and a pink that matches her extremely long princess-cut hair. She doesn't leave any part of the dazzling combs and pins and bangles of precious metals and carefully sculpted floral adornments. What she does is manage to keep a sparkling fan obscuring all of her face below her bangs and eyes. This is necessary to try and suppress an otherwise immensely irresistible aura of 'literally blessed by a goddess like in ancient mythology' beauty and immediate adoration, down to a level of 'suddenly feeling like an idol fan' amongst onlookers. The slight downslip of her sleeve reveals an out-of-place beaded bracelet with tiny sculptures. Isahane is less conservative, but sort of doesn't need to be. She's tall enough to need to duck under any space station-sized doorways, and conversely a very different kind of built and tanned physique, with blue eyes and silvery hair that is just barely all collected at the end by a tightly wound length of carefully braided rope, as well as what spills forwards over her shoulders. She is more 'casually' dressed, in a kind of heavily cut down top, waist-adjacent shawl, silk sash, billowy slitted pants, and rope-bound boots as opposed to sandals, all white, grey, and green in complex, geometric designs of some ethnic significance. Gunmetal coloured horns, angled and tapered, add another four inches of height on top of her head. One has a very out of place ornamental gold band. "Aww, look at them playing! I wasn't sure about this place from the outside, but it's really cozy isn't it? It reminds me a little of your old clan village." "It's far too comfortable to be anything like it. I'm surprised your memories of it are so rose-tinted." "Oh! Is that one-- Is she Persephone's mother?" "No." "How can you tell? You haven't seen her face yet!" "A child learns to speak from their family. Persephone's voice contains very little of hers." "Rea~lly? Is that really true?" "Look at her. She's all worries. And Persephone sounds like she never worries." It takes them a while to actually approach Doctor Carpathia. Despite how much they obviously stick out, and despite how very different they look, they seem to be taking their time like a pair of absolute tourists. As if they couldn't possibly have anything better to do. And yet, once they join the metaphorical (almost literal) tour group, taking in the explanation like a particularly fascinating museum guide, the Holy Empress is the first to speak, completely out of turn, with that voice just like finding a new song that just makes one want to hit repeat over and over and over again until it stops generating dopamine: "So, you decided that it wasn't fair that the Gods get to have all the say over how things work. And your solution is to make everyone more like them." Somehow, she sounds as if Doctor Carpathia is sharing something intriguing, yet absolutely scandalously inappropriate with her. Isahane just looks at the door and has to ask "What makes that zone 'Hot'?"
Persephone Kore	"As I said," Dr. Carpathia explains (a little defensively), "modern Decompression Chamber designs and protocols render them extremely safe. Early on, they weren't proofed against... reckless actors. The Hot Zone is the result of someone spending hours in a low-pressure environment, deliberately bootstrapping their own normocausative structure until they couldn't safely be repressurized. A hard-takeoff posthuman transcendence. Or an explosive degeneration. Take your pick." She nods towards the warped door at the end of the hallway- an apparent invitation to go in. "A tragedy, or maybe not. But what's left is still the subject of active study." But for anyone more interested in experiencing a Decompression Chamber themselves, she swipes her keycard and opens one of the doors. It's a plain white room inside, but after she shuts the door and slowly turns the dial down, a unique feeling settles in. It's like life up to this point had been an endless muggy summer, humidity clinging relentlessly to skin, and the Decompression Chamber were the first refreshing cool breeze ever. The walls of the chamber, one's own body, everything material starts to feel a little like a hollow plastic toy, something that could be effortlessly broken or reshaped. And it can be, at least for a little while. Everything will probably go back to normal when you leave, but for right now, the white-walled cell can be transformed into a lush and beautiful expression of one's heart. Any parts of one's body that are inconvenient, or ill-fitting, or painful, or otherwise out-of-line with 'how things should be' can simply be told to stop. Metal can be bent or glass can be shattered with a thought, almost as if in a dream. "It is possible to destroy the walls of the chamber," Dr. Carpathia says with the weary certainty of somebody who's seen it happen, "so please don't. Anything else is reversible."
Silver Carnation	Agnes steps into the Decompression Chamber. As she starts to feel different, she tries out the 'reshaping herself' in two ways. One, she very discreetly grows a little taller, from her 5'0 standard. Two, she removes her glasses. She starts looking around, 'woahing'. "I can see clearly." Silver starts floating. She's not projecting any magic. She feels something different. Something... Like a drug. This is amazing. She flips around in the compression chamber. Her mobility still counts even for this. Maybe...maybe she will take Persephone up on that offer.
Persephone Kore	Flamel's analysis of what's behind That Door detects coral, and smoke, and the unimaginable heaviness of the ocean deep. Suffocation, for years and years and years. Something so intolerable that the devil-you-don't-know seems better. "I can't stand being human like this." But it also picks up my aura, as does anyone else who approaches the door- it's not like I try to hide, haha! The psycho-gravitational pull of Persephone's warmth gently washes over anyone who's close enough and doesn't have an abnormally closed mind. Even if "unnatural", it feels wholesome and sincere, like a really infectious disembodied smile. Awwww. Is my smile really that cute? That might explain why, although clearly enchanted by what of Seilatiya's aura leaks through her polite obscurement, the staff in the common areas don't seem to find it unusual or try to resist it (not that that would be much use); they're extremely used to being charmed and swayed, and it's never been a bad thing before. All eyes are on her, as she's naturally used to- even Dr. Carpathia's stressed, dour demeanor starts to lift as Seilatiya talks, easing down into a kindly smile. "Ahaha. Something like that. It is awful, isn't it? Some of the world's evil comes from people wanting opposing things. But so much of it is merely because of natural hardships or scarcities that nobody really wants, but nobody can change. We humans teach each other so many things- how to share our feelings across time and space, how to discover and exploit the rules of the universe, how to create abstract mathematics and geometries. Why couldn't we teach each other to be like gods?" As for Isahane's question... "It remains... cognito-narratively active, even years later. Like a ghost. The impression of something too foreign to be welcome anymore."
Kukuru	Flamel goes into a lot of words that just create a glazed look in Kukuru's eyes behind her glasses, but she's paying attention enough to smile and nod casually if anyone actually looks at her during all of that stuff about brain tumblers and astral something or another. Staren's only slightly easier to understand, but she still largely gets that same reaction. It's not for a lack of trying, though, as the bit about altering the rules seems to actually get something to click in Kukuru's mind. "So that's about the mind being realer stuff... Neat." Kukuru chuckles triumphantly, and then Persephone's use of science words puts that glaze on full blast. She looks towards Agnes with a vaguely hopeful, yet utterly confused look on her face, and then she looks towards Seilatiya and Isahane when they approach as they might help make sense of that as well. And then Kukuru just smacks the sides of her own face lightly. Abruptly, even, as though she's trying to psyche herself up. "Less thinking, more... Okay! Let's just see by doing." And so, she heads into the Decompression Chamber, letting herself bask in that strange feeling of cool clarity and just enjoying it without actually doing anything. At least, until she realizes she's slouched over so far that she might as well (and is) floating on a gravity-defying pillow that's somehow managing to be cool to the touch while also completely cozy and roomy at the same time. Destroying the walls of the chamber or anything else, for that matter, doesn't seem to really register in Kukuru's mind as a thing to do as she just lounges arund. She's content to just be perfectly comfortable right here. "Oh, this is nice... And you get to do this all the time?" She yawns, noticing Agnes' body shifting and then starts giving it a try herself. Unlike Agnes, she goes for adding that length solely to her arm. It doesn't take long before her arms are long enough to wrap around everyone if they let her. Gently, of course, but she's also only doing it to one arm.
Flamel Parsons	"Iiiiiinteresting. A self-inflicted Osterman Decay is something I think I've never thought about!" Flamel says, wandering to the observation window. He's not going to head into one of them himself, because he knows his mind like, well, the inside of his mind. But he's compelled to see what the others do, through the windows. And he's compelled to take a look in. The pressure -- is that a memory? Or is it an idea, something being created here and now? "I wonder." He mutters. "That pressure. Was that before or was that now? I kind of wonder if they're making pressure from the other side, trying to make a sustainable encapsulation-body of unreality where it's not that you just can't safely repressurize them, but that you can't repressurize them to begin with. That'd be amazing! Inverted mind-reality structure. I wonder what that would even be like." He wanders back to observe Silver Carnation and Kukuru. "The reason I can tell this all is very legitimate and above-board," He says, gleaming at the observation window. "Is because it's all so low-key! Human minds really essentially want only a few things that reality can't give them normally. Really, I've always found that the problem isn't getting reality to give you what's in your mind, it's getting society and other people do it."
Undivided Queens	"People can be evil to each other. It's all true. But people don't need to be evil to each other. People need all sorts of things, and that need teaches them to be evil. Then, even when they have no more need of anything, they teach their children to be evil, because that's how they got through life. And so on." Seilatiya nods to Carpathia, causing a faint little jingle of hanging jewels. "People learn things, and people build things, and you can say that's our way of changing what we need to change; that we don't need to be Gods. But one person can't learn and build everything! Their lives are too short! And the people who learnt and built everything first won't let them. But it's imagination, yes? Imaginations are a little space where we can build anything we want; they're only real to us, but they have to exist somewhere, is that your reasoning? Because if everyone could look into their imagination to see a little thing they want, and pull it out into their hands, I think I'd like that a lot~" Isahane instead seems . . . intensely distracted by that door. A number of unreserved feelings play over her face in silent succession. Discomfort. Instinctive revulsion. Introspection. Sympathetic sadness. Nostalgia. Wistful empathy. "So, only Persephone is strong enough to pay her respects to that memorial?"
Staren	"I was overthinking this. You all had the right idea..." Staren climbs onto Kukuru's pillow, going to housecat form in the process. Somewhere along the way, Seilatiya either makes some comment about cuteness, or Staren thinks of when she did so, which puts her in the mood of a teenage girl in a witch outfit for some reason. In the end, she makes Kukuru's pillow big enough for both of them and just sits, conjuring small rocks and making them fly around by gesturing with her hands and pointing with her fingers. "Should've kept it simple. Always thought it would be nice to have telekinesis." She alternates between smiling in the simple joy of make thing move with mind, and frowning annoyedly at some memory or other.
Staren	Staren does look pretty interested in seeing the outcome of someone's posthuman experiment, but... everything is interesting here. How often do you get to interact with an altered state of reality? ...Okay, Staren's probably done so far more often than most outside this station, but still, it's rare. And each time is a little different. A white room. Staren looks around at all the... nothingness of it. The others immediately fly, but Staren's flown plenty. Start small, methodically poking at things. Let's try something simpler: Clothes. Staren is unavoidably reminded of the last time someone made a world like this. Suddenly, her clothes are that sort of impossibly-elaborate yet vaguely victorian style that only anime and cosplayers bother with. She glances down, then conjures a mirror to confirm, and is a bit taken aback by the oddity of it. It's not something they've ever worn. She glances over at Agnes and it shifts into more of a magical girl deal, then she thinks better of this and decides to try something else. Well, a proper shapeshifter would be able to change their body, right? Although, perhaps it's more about the ability than any specific form. Staren pushes for something far from normal... An elephant-size feline covered in bony plates. The kind of battle form they'd use if they did that sort of thing. But it catches sight of itself in the mirror and recoils, shrinking back to human-size and to a more normal great cat. And then to the catboy form he had until a few weeks ago. He could move to a clone or a robot body and take this form again at any time, but... hasn't. The option to do so seems important, but... The Ghost of Maslow's Peak stares back from the mirror, angry and determined. No... the color scheme fades, as does the expression, Staren just sadly reminded of his behavior for the past... How long has it even been, since they could look out at the world with optimism and hope of making friends? Staren takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. How about more relaxing surroundings? He's actually kind of surprised the others have kept the white room. It reshapes... The interior of a suburban house, or at least part of it. Like Staren's parents, but less clean, more lived-in. The air is that of a cool summer night, and the lights are off, but... while outside there's a bit of lawn up to the walls, the walls themselves are just sort of a dark blue-green, night-colored, while a moon-colored circle glows as if it's in the sky, shining moonlight. This memory must be from some time ago. Staren's shrunk to a small b... g... child with shoulder-length hair, dressed in pale pajamas and socks and a red hooded cloak that looks like a favorite clothing item worn way too much. They open their eyes and reach their hands up to the windowsill, looking up at the moon... and then hear Flamel come back. They turn around, give him a surprised look, and then focus again, springing up into a teenager as the surroundings -- possibly only around Staren -- become hot springs. And then a run-down shack in the desert. And then a mansion. And then some kind of tree-house thing. Staren pauses and looks out over a balcony at the walls, and hangs their head. Everything goes black, but for a door, and then it becomes a cabin. All the while (but for the moment of darkness), that cool-summer-night atmosphere and the moonlight is maintained. Something bugs Staren, who's become a young adult again. "Ugh..." he waves dismissively, and it just becomes a field of grass with night-colored walls.
Persephone Kore	Kukuru and Silver slowly start to uncover a subtler sense as they immerse themselves in the Decompression Chamber, too- the way each of them deforms reality with their thoughts and intentions can be read in reverse. If Kukuru's drowsiness creates a pillow, then Silver can read and almost feel that drowsiness from the pillow; if Silver's desire to fly allows her to lift off, then it's evident to Kukuru from that motion, too, in an emotional-tactile way. It isn't deep enough to feel intrusive, but it becomes intuitively keener the longer they spend in the Chamber together: reality-warping is a language that can't be dishonest, which Staren will surely appreciate too.. "It is incredibly difficult to determine," Carpathia says to Flamel with a little less defensiveness, "to what extent Emery Heller still exists. Or to what extent 'existing' remains a meaningful concept to them. Whether the lingering unreality at the site of their departure is a trace of their ongoing new self, or merely the fossilized remains of their violent departure from normative corporeality, is unknown. Persephone seems to believe the former, and I suppose she's the closest we have to an expert." "Nobody has ever accused memetic eschatology of being low-key before," she adds with a little Seilatiya-inspired laugh, "but I suppose, in context, I'll accept that as a compliment." Any further musings she might have are cut short by the arrival of a pair of young adults- the girl and boy who were fighting earlier. He looks immaculate, hair freshly-combed, clothes pressed, collar fastidiously straightened; his overall style is like a private-school brat who never grew up, though he can't get rid of the green grass-stains on his white button-up shirt and sweatervest. She looks like a rough-and-tumble jackass; blades of grass are still stuck in her short curly hair and leather jacket, and you can just tell that the band-aid on her face is purely for aesthetic. There's no way they're blood-related at all, but they share a private language of glances and nudges like genuine siblings would. "Dylan and Marc," Dr. Carpathia says, familiar exhaustion already evident in her voice. She sounds like she has already tolerated an inconceivable amount of their bullshit and is prepared to handle infinity more. "Heyyyy. Guests! Why didn't you-" "You've never made a good first impression in your life Dylan. That's why she didn't tell us." "Hey, I'm just tryin' to be nice!" "For once in your entire life." "I'm nice all the time!!" "Name a time you're not a gremlin bastard." "Heh. When I'm asleep, for one." Dylan- the girl- walks over to the Decompression Chamber and taps on the window gently with her baseball bat, grinning like the little shithead she is. "Hey!! How's the water in there? You're not gonna narc on us to budget oversight for havin' this much fun, right?" "Dylan. Decompression Chambers are critical to our research. They aren't toys." "Not with that attitude they're not."
Silver Carnation	Silver feels the drowsiness. She flies over to the pillow, creates her own, and rests her head on it, but keeps floating anyways. "Woah..." As Staren does things, she watches, nodding. And then when the young adults arrive, Dylan and Marc, she tilts in mid-air over to look. "I'm absolutely telling budget oversight that you're underpaid." Is the first thing Silver says. "Seriously, this is amazing. Revolutionary. It'd make the world so much better."
Persephone Kore	When "the boy who is a bitch" and "the girl who is a bastard" have moved on from hassling Carpathia to hassling Kukuru, Silver, and Staren, the good doctor turns her attention back to the pair of queens, giving them a considerably more drained smile. "You understand me perfectly. I could listen to you talk all day, but I don't want my head to get that big," she says to Seilatiya. "But there's a saying I've heard, and your world might not have it, so I'll share it. A little gift, maybe." "There are two kinds of people in the world: those who say 'nobody should have to suffer like I did', and those who say 'I suffered; why shouldn't they?' ... Of course, Sapient Heuristics is founded on the former impulse. This world is already full of the fruits of the latter." She looks rather surprised at Isahane's comment, eyebrows lifting. "Hm? Oh, no, anyone can go in. In fact, I'd encourage you to- I think Persephone is rather expecting it. And you'll get a better picture than words alone can paint." In fact, the door, though warped and griseously iridescent, still opens automatically when someone approaches. The Hot Zone is immediately, instantly bizarre. It once housed Decompression Chambers too, but all but one of them have now been scavenged for parts, left dark and useless. That one- at the far back- was obviously too damaged to get anything of worth from. Its ceiling and front are totally blown open, blossoming with once-molten and stressed metal; its sides have similarly bent outwards like flowering wings. The interior is totally charred. Coral and smoke have claimed many of the surrounding surfaces, colonizing them in some otherworldly way; fossilized remains of some everted mindscape, terraforming it halfway into an abyssal smoker-vent environment. There's an unmistakeable presence here; something despairing and ecstatic, greedy and selfless, yearning for the new and mourning the old. It might whisper that it loves you. It might whisper that it wants to welcome you in; take you to the Otherside with it, rescue you from this awful, cruel world. But that presence is muted by Persephone's, who is seated comfortably on a formation of coral inside. Her eyes are shut, but she smiles when you enter. Even to someone who's never felt her aura before, the two are unmistakably different and immiscible. Hers is soothing, lulling, an incomprehensibly vast gentleness and warmth; a sincere and earnest attempt to love everyone and everything, to hold the world in her hands.
Kukuru	Unaware or perhaps simply not caring that she's being observed, Kukuru remains content to just lounge around on her floating pillow with the one giga-arm. Staren's not safe from having her head pat with the sort of firm, yet gentle touch of someone that's used giving this kind of attention, and Silver even gets a few gentle pats should she stay still long enough for that. She watches the rocks idly, nodding slowly without bothering to stifle a yawn. "That'd be nice... It'd make housework a lot easier. And just... Stuff, yeah." That sensation of floating courtesy of Silver, meanwhile, has her experimenting some on her own. Without abandoning the pillow, she just starts floating with the thing, going in a smooth yet aimless direction to just feel the sensation of flying without thinking to hard about it. It's more that she's just not thinking much at all by this point, content to just experiment and feel things instead of actively considering what she's doing next. And then the fighters arrive! Unperturbed by Bitch Boy and Bastard Girl, Kukuru actually starts beaming as she returns their greetings with a kindly old lady smile. "He-llo there! It's great in here. Do you wanna join us? It's super comfortable~" Turning over on the pillow, she rolls onto her side while still facing the window and looking perfectly content to just lounge in there all day. Seh waves towards the two lazily as if inviting them to join in, even! It'd probably be a bit more inviting and less weird if one of her arms wasn't the length of several people by now (and counting), but she doesn't seem to mind. At the rate she's yawning, she'll probably pass out within the next few minutes regardless.
Staren	Staren was making places that are familiar and safe and welcoming but are not home... until the end there. The darkness was just a sad thought, and the cabin, though having a similar appearance to the sorts of places the others, had a sense of... a place built to be like the others but then abandoned before it was ever used because things just didn't work out. In response to Silver and others being positive, and Kukuru's head-patting, which... right now, the feeling of drowsiness and simple enjoyment make it easier to lean into than to worry about indignance and appearances, especially since Silver didn't snark like Staren realizes some part of her expected... Staren tries messing with the surroundings one more time: Now it's a beach. Still at night with a cool and comfortable breeze. There's the incoherent murmuring of unseen partygoers in the distance. The walls are the dark of night sky, but light sources shine from impossibly distant beyond the walls like a Z-buffer rendering error that becomes weird to look at if you focus on it, a child's simplistic rendering of the moon above and flickering torches to one side shedding their lighting on the scene. Some Union halloween party from over a decade ago. It feels like a moment in time and space where people were friendly, where the focus was on enjoying peoples' company instead of thinking of your troubles. Staren looks over at the window, nodding at Silver's words. "In an ideal world, everyone would have this chance. Sapient Heuristics needs to keep doing what you're doing. ...Besides, fun's an important part of life too. Research later. Right now... this." This being comfortably floating around wherever Kukuru takes the cloud. Staren doesn't even have to drive! So she can focus on seeing how many little rocks she can move at once, making bigger patterns. Thing move with mind!
Persephone Kore	Dylan hangs her bat over her shoulders and grins at Silver. She's probably like twenty years old, but Silver can instantly tell she's a moron in exactly the kind of way to still be considered an honorary teenager. "Hell yeah. We'll have the cash to put in a skate park, I bet." "Dylan, we already have the money for a skate park. We don't have one because that's stupid." "What am I supposed to do with my fuckin' skateboard, then?" "Return it." "I'm not gonna be ungrateful like that!!" "Dylan, you bought it for yourself." "Oh right. Still, fuck you." "But I'm glad you all appreciate the importance of what we're doing," Dr. Carpathia says, briefly shushing Dylan with a hand on her shoulder. For the first time, the doctor looks genuinely proud instead of just grumpy-worried or Seilatiya-induced-happy. "It is always a concern of mine, that Sapient Heuristics' dream could be dismissed as childlike or impossible. It is a relief to me to know that, at the very least, you all have more vision than that."
Silver Carnation	Silver, immediately on understanding Dylan that way, replies to Dr. Carpathia. "Yeah! But you should definitely give her a skatepark."
Staren	Carpathia's words snap Staren out of it. The little rocks freeze in place, hovering while unattended. She turns towards the window again, and speaks with an edge of Idealism to her voice, "What's wrong with either of those things??" For a moment, they're child-Staren again, pointing at Dr. Carpathia. "Children can imagine a better world in all the ways adults haven't told them are impossible yet! And everything people say is impossible only is until someone figures out it isn't!" The tone is firm, but positive and supporting, Staren obviously agrees with Dr. Carpathia on this and is actually trying to be encouraging. The serious conviction, in this moment, behind those words may be somewhat undercut by same words being spoken in the voice of a child thanks to Staren trying to visually emphasize the point, though.
Flamel Parsons	"Well, it's low-key in that it isn't all beams, and shining lights, and exotic destruction, and strange geometries." Flamel continues his ramble to Carpathia. "When someone says they've found a way to give people power, and all it does is things nobody really usually wants but which is definitely real powerful, that's a problem. Because you've made something that, one way or another, isn't gonna do what people want!" He regards the room. People float, or rest, to become big cats or children. "Really, the best test of whether something like this is really, properly legitimate is whether it looks a bit like this. Stranger things, subtler things, things that are 'less ambitious' but they're still real and strong. I think that's a way of knowing this isn't changing the foundations of humanity while it's building a new level, you know? Which is good. Humans probably shouldn't be evolving into terrifying warriors or space-warping beyond-human beings. Well, not unless that's what they wanted to do at the start." He glances to the Hot Zone.
Undivided Queens	While Seilatiya looks delighted by Carpathia's understanding, in as much as merely a narrow sliver of eyes between bangs and fan can express, Isahane slowly shakes her head. "It's not that only she can enter. It's that only she can pay those respects, truly." Even then, Seilatiya flinches, just the tiniest bit, at the parting words Carpathia has for her. Of course they enter. There's no way they can resist the urge at that point. There is a long, contemplative period of the both of them examining the sight, Seilatiya with the moving head and wandering feet of someone trying to take in an art piece, Isahane with the focused eye and unmoving posture of someone trying to fully sear in every detail in ways that human beings just don't anymore, like it'll be very important later. But ultimately, there's only so much to puzzle out by looking, and so Seilatiya wanders in next to Persephone, sits near, and says: "You know, Carpathia and I were just talking about imaginations. How I thought that an imagination must be the 'place' where people's thoughts are real. A tiny little space that doesn't exist, but where you can build anything you want, and the world can't tell you no." She remains staring off at the alien coral for a while. "Part of the reason I can be the way I am, is that I'm fortunate enough to have a gift for that. I can look into my imagination, build what I want in that place of mine, and then pull it out into the world, where it becomes 'real', like everything else'. Isa, I've always thought, isn't very different. But what she does is that she imagines herself in there, and when she pulls it out, it becomes 'real' because she, herself, is obviously 'real'; the world agrees." "I think I get the idea that what you're doing is even bigger. It's making the entire world around you a part of your imagination. You're breaking down the walls so there's no difference; you can build whatever you want, like it's all in your head, without the 'pulling out', yes? Am I right?" And then, Isahane picks up that gap, like finishing her partner's sentence, to say "And whoever was here before. They broke down the walls between their imagination and themselves, didn't they? They couldn't imagine a self that they could make real, and they couldn't imagine a real self they could live with. So they made themself and their imagination one and the same, here, and imagined the way they wanted to be."
Persephone Kore	"To be able to say 'childlike' and 'impossible' without meaning them negatively," Dr. Carpathia responds with a little smile- something unthinkable when first you met her- "is something even greater. But you're correct. Forgive my defensiveness; I am more used to speaking to accountants than visionaries." She looks over at Flamel, still wearing that smile. "If Persephone is any indication, some people do want to be space-warping beyond-humans. And I do support that inclination. After all, why not?" Her face drops a couple of notches, regaining its worry-haunted air; that might have something to do with the fact that Seilatiya just left. "You know, I find her... weaponization, distasteful. That was her choice, not mine. You will take good care of her, won't you? If someone hurt her..." "I'd break their kneecaps." "I'd snap their neck."
Persephone Kore	"The two of you," Persephone says, as if it's a complete sentence. My eyes finally open- a brown so vibrant it's almost orange. She smiles the smile her face is built for, an expression it's utterly impossible to imagine her not wearing. What is there for me not to smile about? After all, "-you're wonderful. Even more 'you' in person than you were on the radio. I should've expected that, but somehow I didn't!" She sits there with Seilatiya companionably for a few moments, her breaths coming deep and slow as she listens. The smoke from the coral curls around her in wisps, but it can't quite touch, bent around her by an otherworldly gravity. "Ahaha. You're making it sound so strange, describing it like that. I've never seen you or Isahane do those things, but just from what I can feel of your hearts, I think you're both really special. You understand it, don't you? In a way most other people don't. The way that having that gift can be healing. The way that it can make you a kinder person." She rises from her feet, though with obvious reluctance to part from Seilatiya's company, and walks towards the blown-out cell. She doesn't step inside; it's easy to get the impression that she feels I'd be transgressing somehow. The inside of that chamber belongs to nobody but them. You feel it too, don't you? But she stands there, at the threshold, in silent communion. When she turns around, her smile is a little more bittersweet. "You know, I hate it? I really do. That the world can just... be a certain shape. Without anybody's permission at all. I want it to have to ask my permission. To ask everybody's. ... I think maybe you're right, describing it like that. It feels so natural, you know? Not 'with a thought', but 'the absence of a thought'; forgetting I'm not allowed to get everything I want." She turns back to look over the opposite shoulder at Isahane. Her smile finally drops to something contemplative; reminiscent; melancholy. "Emery Heller. You understand exactly. You know... if they hadn't done it first. I was thinking of doing the same thing."
Staren	Kid-Staren absolutely BEAMS at Carpathia's smile. Though they look sad as she explains the defensiveness, crossing their arms and pulling the cloak around themself. "Yeah... I know that feel. You've handled it better than me if it worked out... twisting my words and speaking to motivate others with their greed instead of my own ideals while trying to justify myself to anyone always backfired." They blink, and then smile again at a realization, ears perking up and tail twitching happily. "Which means I know the people /I/ work with don't need to be talked to that way! If you EVER get pushback from the penny-pinchers for being idealistic, just make sure your request gets up to a Partner or higher and we'll make sure it's handled properly!" They tilt their head at the talk with Flamel. "You know, I used to think that being human -- psychologically, I mean -- was really, really important, but..." They furrow their brow and tilt their head the other way, then shake their head and sigh. "That was probably just internalized... ugh. And I went and built a whole moral framework around it!" They throw up their hands, the cloak catching on one and falling off the cloud. "Oop." They TK it back around their shoulders. "You're right. If we don't support it... who knows what cool ideas we'll miss out on?" Staren furrows their brow. "...I just did it again, didn't I? Justified it to some imagined greedy person who has to approve things because otherwise I don't think enough people will support it." Staren stands up, balling up one fist in front of them. "Well FUCK THAT! Let people become what they want because people should be able to do that!" They pump the fist in the air.