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Flamel Parsons     Welcome to the MOTHERLOBE!

    https://i.imgur.com/vYWtTAr.jpeg

    This quarry is the largest Psitanium min in the entire world, and it shows. The nearby dam is the only thing that keeps it from turning into the second-largest psitanium-infused lake in the world, and gives a huge amount of space to the central structure: A 60s-era behemoth of glass and concrete, wrought by the world's foremost geokinetics, ferrokinetics, and virtukinetics and into the shape of two massive hands supporting a huge brain above its stem, allowing its vast third eye to display clearly.

    The landing pad is where most arrive, though if some prefer to ride by boat rather than aircraft, that's always fine too. Heading inside through massive metal doors leads first to a wide, spacious reception lobby lit in cool colors and draped in Psychonauts banners where you can get your Thinkerprint scanned and stored for access, and then through a strange psychic lifting tube up to... THE MOTHERLOBE ATRIUM!

    https://i.imgur.com/w9xFlRv.jpeg
    https://i.imgur.com/XzYAkAW.jpeg

    This massive space, adorned with greenery, floating meetingspace, and googie architecture, offers several neon-signed spaces. A MAIL ROOM, the CLASSROOMS, offices for AGENTS, FORD'S BARBER SHOP, ASTRAL LANES, the NOODLE BOWL cafeteria area, and the NERVE CENTER! A woman is here to meet you, a tall, thin lady in what can only be described as "the most powerful powersuit and the most pants pantsuit". Flamel himself is also here, speaking with her!

    https://i.imgur.com/EGnbiT1.png

    "...Not sure why you need all *this* arrangement, though? I mean, you said yourself, it's something I'm specialized in, so, why not just...?"
    "Listen, Parsons. You have *clearance*, but no offense, as far as I'm concerned you're still a preteen. That rock is, what, eight years old?"
    "I disagree, and think that's kind of reductive! But I get that it comes from a good place, emotionally. A place of care and protection!"
    "Well you're right about that. That's why I need this spread around. And I don't mean to hurt you when I say you'll distort it if you're the one to relay it. This needs to get said with *exactly* the right amount of openness."
    "Well... alright! I'll go along with whatever helps you feel secure about this, Hollis. Glad you're reaching out, at least!"

    It has a low, thrumming tension, like two people with impeccable mental health doing their best to maintain total respect and positivity under a situation of moderate confusion and significant pending stress. The visitors arrive right as that's wrapping up.
Forte In a world about minds and imagination, let's imagine that something clever is written here about vampires and invitations. Come up with your own setup and your own punchline, sub them into this space. It'd be more entertaining than the reality, in any case - Forte's not much of one for jokes, and he isn't actually a vampire, but he does have an invitation.

He arrives 'normally' - via flight, not internet, making a high approach and then floating straight down towards the landing pad at a fraction of his maximum speed. (This lets him get a quick top-down view of the facility, also.)

"... I was invited," he makes sure to say to whoever's at the front desk.

He shrinks back from the thinkerprint, narrowing his eyes at it... but then returns to his normal neutral expression as he continues up into the atrium - where aside from a quick glance around he doesn't gawk or even look remotely interested.

"Second Head Forsythe," he says, on finally meeting her. "You wanted a Watch Representative. Forte."
Staren     Trying new things continues! Staren shows up for plane pickup in a slightly remixed outfit, considering what she can guess at the Psychonaut's aesthetics and the advice of others -- Hair loosely tied in a low tail around neck level (it still hides what, exactly, her glasses attach to), a black turtleneck sweater with a slightly wider neck, the labcoat tied around her waist, and a slightly-desaturated sea green pair of cargo pants loose around the legs bloused into black work boots. While they're in transit she consults with Persephone about accessories or modifications to the outfit; She has the round glasses from before as well as tinted-lens versions, and color-changing smart material beret and scarf (smaller than her usual, almost normal bandana-size) to try various combinations with. "I was gonna do something more uniform-y before, but I can kinda see that this is going in... a direction?" She doesn't have good fashion words.

    Oh wow they really did make it look like a giant brain. Staren was expecting that, but it's still a sight. She follows the tour group, and is confronted by... Flamel's Boss?

    When she calls Parson's body 'that rock', Staren opens her mouth to object. Persephone can see the words forming, 'That rock'?! He's a PERSON, one of your best agents, and obviously his mental and emotional maturity are not tied to his chronological age! But, Flamel responds quickly, which gives her pause. "What... needs to be said with the right amount of openness?" she wonders, and then has a thought.

    Staren beams and holds up her hands. "Oh wait! There's something I want to try..." She closes her eyes and concentrates on that thought, trying to bring up the sea of stars... but what might it look like in here? And what happens if you turn that power on the skilled psychics here? Focusing on them individually...

    Staren may not have considered just what will happen. She figures in an environment like this it's just a standard part of appraising the security features, like making sure stuff doesn't just fall apart at a touch...
Cantio Despite knowing (of) Flamel for quite some time, Cantio's ashamed to say that she's never really learned much about his capabilities or his world. This arranged visit to the Motherlobe, then, might just be the perfect opportunity to learn about both of those! That's why she takes the arranged aircraft to the Motherlobe, making sure to take in as much of the trippy exterior of this aptly named brain building as she can before heading inside.

"It's so green in here... And rounded! It's definitely nothing like home." Cantio comments idly as she looks around the atrium, stumbling briefly after not noticing the first little set of stairs in her way. She catches herself with a heavy-footed stomp, holding her position for a few seconds before trying to play it off with an awkward and not particularly convincing dramatic pose.

It'd probably help if she was dressed in something even remotely cool pose appropriate instead of her usual white, purple, and pink sailor-y getup. "Thanks for inviting us! Um..." Noticing that lingering tension, she makes the mistake of looking right at Flamel and Hollis. "I'm Cantio, from Cadenza. What's our first stop today?"
Candy <Q-Conversation> Flamel Parsons says, "Agent Flamel Parsons here, I've managed to arrange to get a quick visit to Psychonauts HQ for today! Let's see, who all did I need to bring in..."
<Q-Conversation> Flamel Parsons says, "Right, aside from the usual suspects from the Concord, I was wondering if I could bring in some Watch and Paladins representatives? Second Head Forsythe has been wanting to get in contact about something lately."

     "Huh," says Candy, scratching his chin. He did indeed arrive by boat, because he loves boats. And because you can't stand dramatically on the bow of a plane. Because planes don't have bows, they have noses, and they're really not great for being on top of while they're in motion. "Big brain!"

     He looks like someone who shouldn't be here, but he evades the front desk through a combination of swagger, eyeballing and avoiding people who look 'with it' enough to actually ask him his business, and magical chicanery.

     Motorist's goggles are down, resting against a red bandana around his neck. He's gone with a tank top again, suspenders and slacks as usual, plus that newsie cap he likes so much. But he's also got a longcoat on that, while cute on him, also screams 'what are you buying,' or, more concerningly, 'if I trip and fall they'll have to alter all the maps.' When he walks, the many pockets on the inside confirm that it could be used for either, though thankfully they're empty at the moment.

     "Funny elevators they got here," he muses to himself, gawking at the neon signs, out-there sixties sci-fi decor and--"Oh," he says. "You must be G-Man's friend. Or his boss, maybe. Hi! He was honest with me about working for, a, uh... 'vague and menacing government agency.'" Or was it vaguely menacing?

     "I'm Candelario, or Candy for short. I do a little of this, and a little of that. Oop, brain." He steps out of the way of one of the rolling braincases, canting his head as it goes hustling by. "Ms. Hollis, ah? There a Forsythe here? Flamel was saying they wanted to speak to somebody from the Watch, so, here I am! And, him, too," he says, jerking a thumb towards Forte. "But him, I don't know so good. Not yet, anyway!" He beams at Forte.

     "Well... maybe Forsythe is you. 'Hollis Forsythe,' maybe?"

    When Staren uses Persephone's gift, there isn't a star corresponding with his position. "Hey!" He's grinning widely at her, though. "How you feeling? The other day at Queenie's place, you know..." She knows. Despite the fact that he's hard to get a read on mentally, there is concern in his voice, and it sounds genuine.
Phasewalker     Ainkli arrives by space jet. He doesn't land it. It autopilots back out into the atmosphere when he teleports down to the building, and he just walks in. The floaty elevators are a trip, because... he can't use levitation, so he has to just awkwardly teleport up.

    Once he's inside the Atrium, he takes a look around, kinda wandering nearby where Flamel and Forsythe are, making for an aimless air. He looks around with a neutral expression on his face, but his glazed-over eyes suggest there's something going on in his noodle. What he's doing is trying not to zone out from the sheer psionic flood to his senses he's getting from his metapsionic abilities. Between the virtual army of psychics and the psitanium, he's... stunned.

    He's never seen this many psychics in one place.

    Oh, and he's shuffling his feet so he doesn't step on any brain-ball containers.
Persephone Kore      Persephone takes the spy-plane ride with her characteristic childlike enthusiasm, but somehow even more. If there are little packets of peanuts- there have to be, right?- she fawns over how adorably tiny and precious they are. The rest of her time is spent staring out the window with rapt attention, watching the fluffy clouds drift by underneath.

     Stepping out of the plane, she regards the structure with her hand on her cheek, then keys up her radio. "I'd say the whole thing looking like a brain is a little too 'on the nose', but... you were really concerned with looking like a Menacing Government Agent too, weren't you, Flamel? Is being so on-message part of your world's culture?"

     On the psi-lift up into the Motherlobe lobby, she holds Staren's hand and gives it a little reassuring squeeze (if permitted!). That pall of warmth and gentleness flows outwards to fill the area as the lift's doors open, a sweet harbinger of her arrival.

     She remains observantly, thoughtfully, warmly silent during Hollis and Flamel's back-and-forth, though she does give Staren just a little nudge: 'That rock' is just his body, remember! All the parts of his mind are older. He's not offended because she's just talking about this current incorporation.

     Director Hollis does draw her lips-pursed attention specifically. What kind of person gets put in charge of a gaggle of quirky psychics, exactly? I already know one kind! But she doesn't seem much like Dr. Carpathia at all.

     So I tune myself to the frequency of her narrative residue, looking for answers in her past to the question: "Why are you the way that you are?"
Flamel Parsons     The other agents can be easily seen, in varying states of walking, discussing, sitting, or even floating around. Some are in the tactical outfits, coming home from or preparing for various operations...
    https://i.imgur.com/wvz4SRd.jpeg

    Still, others are in something more like Parsons' own outfit!
    https://i.imgur.com/JxqUD5b.jpeg

    And plenty of other support staff, some of whom seem psychic, and others less so. They tend to the plants, manage the space, and take care of everything the agents need to function at their best. Imagine being a telekinetic janitor! There's one right there, in a blue jumpsuit and heavy gloves.

    "Sometimes," Flamel explains in response to Persephone, "The message is the key. People want to know what we are. Otherwise... I mean, psychics can be scary if you don't know what they're about!"

    Forte's been issued a Visitor badge, and his squarewave thinkerprint recorded for the system. The ID photo on the badge has the least photogenic squint anyone has ever made. As for Forsythe, Forte gets a businesslike nod. "Good. I may disagree with the Watch's methods, but it's important you not get, hmm. Compromised."

    Staren gets a firm nod. "Information is dangerous. The truth, if you say it the wrong way, can be just as bad as a lie. I don't want to be misunderstood." She examines Staren closely. "You're the one who went to Maslow Peak alone. You could have gotten killed." She shakes her head. "But you didn't. Good work. Now you know how dangerous your own mind can be. You'll need that."

    Cantio gets a firm nod. "Psychonauts Second Head, Hollis Forsythe." She looks Cantio up and down in a concerned way. "Parsons, isn't she a little young for this?"
    "Oh, not at all ma'am. Field-proven, cross my heart!"
    "Hmm. Keep her safe anyway." She focuses on Cantio herself. "We'll be making a stop at the classroom -- it pulls double duty as our briefing room for visitors."

    Candy gets a swift nod. "That's right. I need to get your organization appraised of something important. There's a good chance that a major psychic threat will go directly to you, unless you lock it out. We plan on making sure you have everything you need to do that." She looks at Flamel. "Are you still calling us a 'vague yet menacing government agency'?"
    "Sure am!"
    "Parsons. Come on."
    "What? it's true! We answer to governments and do a worldwide mental conspiracy. Vague yet menacing government agency!"
    "Now *you're* the one being reductive."

    They seem to settle on that, though, and start a walk towards the classroom space, inviting the others. Phasewalker and Staren, looking into the psychic plane, get to experience a very specific feeling. Persephone gets a highly specific answer.
Forte "... I'm ex-governmental, Forsythe. I can speak plenty on governmental priorities and methods and what I disagree with about stuffing a clandestine public agency full of psychics, and how likely you *are* compromised, but I do not intend to be here all day," he says in response, his tone as flat and dry as it almost always is. "We agree to disagree, we trust at arms length and with the safeties off, and we leave it at that."

He pauses at the interaction with Flamel, a hint of emotion showing through the mask. "Indeed. Except calling it a 'Vague, Menacing Government Agency' is redundant, not reductive," he says. "You should just call it a 'Government Agency'."

And with that, he floats along in silence towards the classroom.
Flamel Parsons     Mental architecture. That's what you could call the thing that Phasewalker and Staren are detecting; the people and the space here interlocks into a single, cohesive whole, deliberately designed with a highly specific outcome in mind, so as to prevent mental health issues and to encourage people to grow within it. Psychological experts have designed the proportions of specific types of psychic ability and personality to create defined, particular effects that can be detected even when they're not directly psychokinetic.

    But many of the effects *are*. There, trees grown under the care of a florakinetic. Here, minor hydrokinesis is used to scrub floors. All around, psychic machinery helps levitate platforms above. And it's all designed to be non-overwhelming, to be a comfortable background noise for the mentally sensitive. It could be described as a kind of background music for the brain, composed in a very specific way by a very particular mental musician.

    As for Hollis herself? Why is she like that? Persephone doesn't get the details, but she can see Hollis Forsythe, working in a hospital. She can see Hollis Forsythe learning, developing, creating something new. She can see a mistake, something done in the passion of youth. Someone, somewhere, still suffers the consequences of Irresponsibility. She has resolved to learn from it, and to encourage safety, responsibility, risk-mitigation.
Cantio "Young? Oh! uh... Thank you?" Cantio doesn't know whether to look pleased or mildly offended by that, and she just ends up getting that confused deer-in-the-headlights look at that back and forth between Hollis and Flamel. "Don't worry! I've had plenty of experience with psychic threats before, so I'll be careful. And..."

She briefly gets a sour look on her face, but goes right back to smiling and letting her curiosity get the better of her. She takes note of the other agents in similar outfits to Flamel's, and in Hollis' assessment of everyone visiting here today. It certainly helps that they're all familiar faces to varying degrees, helping put her somewhat more at ease than if she had come on her own.

What catches her more off guard than anything else, however, is that back and forth between the group's hosts about Flamel's outward portrayal. "Is that something your... Er. Agency does for outside governments, too? Or is it strictly a within-this-region thing? And.. Um..." She glances over at Candy, then back at Hollis. "When you say 'lock it out', is that part of the secrecy aspect or more of a per-government thing?"

Her mind is already going to bad places, but at least heading to the classroom helps keep Cantio focused on the visit itself. "Are those governments you answer to the same ones that funded all of this?" She looks between Flamel and Persephone afterwards, as though she's trying to figure out something, but showing just enough struggling on her face to suggest that she doesn't quite know what she's looking for between either of them just yet.
Staren     Persephone is about as threatening as a perfectly-warm mug of hot chocolate and a pair of fuzzy slippers on a cold day. Staren takes the offered hand, and her tail curls to briefly press against Persephone's back. Perhaps it's because of Persephone's aura of safetyness that Staren feels up to innocently but carelessly poking at others' defenses *here*...

    Staren's not sure what she's seeing. Maybe it'd be clearer if she had had the chance to use this at Sapient Heuristics, but now... Staren's not sure what she was expecting, but this isn't it. The people and background blurring into eachother reminds her of looking at something on a cruddy monitor. But, she can still see people none the less. She focuses on the star in front of her -- Forsythe -- expecting to get the mental equivalent of tapping on a sturdy barrier, but instead she... actually gets something?! After the vision, her awareness snaps back to reality, surprise on her face.

    You're the one who went to Maslow Peak alone.

    An instinct to justify herself calls forth the memory, the echo. The moment of running out of her house with laser pistol in hand, the pain and uncertainty of knowing life can't go on with what he just learned but he can't end it either, trying to get away but you can't escape knowledge, you can't escape YOURSELF, and then latching onto the first remotely solution-shaped idea that comes to mind and pursuing it with single-minded determination...

    Staren pulls her mind away from the memory. She doesn't need to dwell on it. What did Forsythe say? Staren plays it back. "Ah-- I-- thanks?"

    She holds a hand to her head, and looks between Parsons and Forsythe. "It has a good ring to it, doesn't it? And it's, uh... disarming? Like, a *truly* menacing agency wouldn't *call* itself a 'vague yet menacing government agency', so it must be a friendly joke... and that impression stays, a little, even once someone learns more about what you actually do here."

    A thought bubbles up to the surface and out of Staren's mouth without filter: "Are suits *really* the result of trying to cure humanity of certain toxic thoughts?!" Flamel is clearly more genial and jokey than most at this place, but on the other hand, they sneeze themselves out of their skulls here so who can say WAIT WHAT IF THAT WAS A JOKE?
Candy      Candy stage-whispers to Forte, mirth dancing in his brown eyes. "Funny how so many people in the same lines of work 'disagree with our methods.'"

     Leaning back as Forte heads for the classroom, he clears his throat. "You answer to governments? With an s?" He grunts like a mechanic about to say 'I've seen this before.'

     "Some things you can't do, or else they take the money away from you, ah? Or else gum up the works with bullshit you don't have time to handle." He whistles lowly, hands on his hips. "No wonder you're tipping us off. Appreciate it, though!"

     "So, down to business. What kinda threat you mean, Forsythe--and what you mean by 'lock it down,' ah?" When Phony arrives, he turns back, looking over his shoulder, and gives her a very cheesy wink and thumbs up. "If it's them 'psychic terrorists' Flamel mentioned, you better be ready for me to go talk to 'em myself and see what they're so pissed off about. Nothing personal."

     He shakes his head at Staren, taking the opportunity to make a cheap shot at a government agency inside of one of its nerve centers. "No, no, my friend," he says, only half kidding, "They're like, ah, war paint, or uniforms."
Phasewalker     Ainkli Naragol looks like he's on a drug trip. His pupils have dilated and his mouth is hanging open, and he's kinda wandering with the group, quietly marveling at everything he's looking at. Something about this place seems to resonate with him and not just because it's built to do that. He looks like he's just found paradise on earth, and he's not sure how to process it all. He even stares and dumbly waves at a little liquid-filled hamster ball that rolls by.

    (Phony will pick it up easily: Ainkli is currently euphoric, because this is what he feels a psychic organization should be, and what he imagines the Psychic Authority must've been like in its best days.)

    "... this place is amazing," he breathes, unaware he's thinking aloud.
Persephone Kore      "I think Flamel is extremely menacing," Persephone says, with the specific vibe that she just might follow it up with an "aren't you? Aren't you?? Good boy~!"

     As they walk towards the classroms she takes a deep breath in through her nose, eyes shut, and then lets it out in a gentle sigh. Her expression is... nostalgic? Of course I'm nostalgic! Going to class in a psychic complex... it feels like it's been forever since I did that, but also no time at all.

     Her fingers are still intertwined with Staren's, but as she passes a hamster-ball-gawking Phasewalker, she leans over to say: "It really is, isn't it? I think being psychic is easier here than where you're from... but I don't think this is out of reach for your world at all. If you reach, I think you can grasp it!"

     Candy's thumbs-up gets Phony to stick out the tip of her tongue from between smiling lips. "And what about your methods do they object to, Candy? I've never really been clear."
Candy     There is suddenly a (thankfully unlit) stick of dynamite in Candy's hand, as if the space of the classroom itself were hurriedly correcting some oversight. He waggles it at Persephone with an impish smile. "Usually this, and what I do with it," he says. It's gone the moment after. "When somebody gets paid to get rid of stuff that don't do nobody any good, they call it demolition, but when I do it for free, they call it terrorism! And all other kinds of dumb words."

     "Remember what you said about how you didn't like things like..." He twirls a finger in the air. "Velocity and all those other book words Staren probably knows... How those things were more real than people's feelings? It turns out, a lot of people really really like it that way, and when you get good at those things, they start calling you names when they realize you're better at it than they are. Sore losers!"

     He tsk-tsks, shaking his head sadly. "When they use the velocity and the physics to bully people from up on their high horses, it's okay, but when roll my sleeves up and give them a fat lip, it's not, according to them." His tone is that of someone who's speaking to someone that Gets It. Phony has to--he figures at some point, she must have met a sore loser, and if she didn't, then she certainly knows the type. "When someone says 'I don't agree with your methods,' there's something they really mean. Everybody feels it a little different, but you boil it down far enough and it comes to one thing, if you ask me."

     He is, in this clarification, the most serious he's been, looking over his shoulder and up at Phony to make sure she takes his point. "'You're trying to knock over things I'm really used to, and that's scary for me.'" His smile returns, and he sticks his tongue out at her. And Staren, just because. "But, you know, not a -lotta- people who 'disagree with methods' disagree so much they won't play ball. So here I am! Hahaha."
Flamel Parsons     "How pleasant." Hollis mutters while she stares at Forte's back during the walk. "Well, can't fault you for caution, huhuh." She chuckles just a little. "You look like you've had a bad experience with government agencies. Well, I'm not going to tell you we're special and unique and you should trust us. I'll just give you the info and assume you'll be an adult who makes good decisions. Alright?"

    She nods a few times to Cantio. "We've had to... *rehabilitate* our image since the era of the Psychic Six. Sometimes, world militaries would rather suffer the psychic disaster than live with calling up a *hippie gang*. So here we are, Psychonauts, the international intelligence agency." She does shake her head though. "Our biggest moneymaker is Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp. You wouldn't *believe* the math I have to do to keep this place running... We don't *answer to* governments, though. Not exactly."

    Staren's getting the idea though. Hollis's brain has the mental shape of a classroom, a small chapel, an open hospital. It's not defenseless, it's *why would you attack this at all*. It's simply a million times more useful to get her to help you than it is to hurt her, or at least that's how it feels. Her answer is direct and to the point, though: "Oh, the suits? Where'd you hear about that? Beau Brummell's cure was before my time. Divisive man. Lots of people have disagreements. We go suits-vs-turtlenecks at the bowling alley on Tuesdays at 7 about it." She looks a little smug, for a moment. "We're winning. 136 to 112."

    The group reaches the classrooms after a long hallway...
    https://i.imgur.com/jvRmVfq.jpeg

    And they reach the Think Tank. A massive lecture area designed for *comfortable* assimilation of info. Instead of desks, there's a collection of hovering beds encircling a central speaking podium. Instead of rows, there's open seating, spread around, and plenty of books.
    https://i.imgur.com/woih6NV.jpeg

    Hollis ignores the chalkboard, and instead snaps, activating the overhead light's holo-projection mode. Dozens of screens come up... "Candelario, all due respect, that would be a *very* bad idea. I'll tell you why." Several screens collect around her. "We've got reason to believe a major psychohazard is uncontained, or at least it sure isn't contained by anyone with any common sense." She flicks through a series of images. First, dossiers. A woman with a massive bun. "Agent 33. Immediate self-inflicted mental blocks when encountering contaminated mail." A rotund man with a thick, serious face and graying hair. "Agent 20. Jet graffitid with a perception-censored tag, but it set off every psychometer on our landing pad." A man so thin he looks nearly like a lamppost. "Agent 45. Shot with an *arrow*. Contaminated message rolled onto it."

    She flicks them aside. "It's someone who knows the Psychonauts well. Very well. That's bad. Here's the worst part, though." Another profile, but this one's just an employee ID card for a woman with a strict bob cut. "A US Department of Psionic Affairs accountant, Jane Gray. Complained about receiving *forty* 'blank' expense reports, until she finally saw something on one of them, and set off every detector in their building. We checked: *Every single report* infected with a memetic vector. Whatever this threat is, even some *non-psychics* are having a strong immune reaction to pieces. That means it's big, really big, and dangerous. Do you understand?"
Flamel Parsons     She turns back to the group, dismissing most of the windows. "We've got reason to believe whoever's doing this is targeting governments and agencies with this. That means they're going to try to bring the Watch onboard. Listen. You don't like us. We work with governments. Do you like *normal minds*? Whatever this thing is, we know people, *normal* people, are having a bad reaction to knowing. We know non-psychics *and* psychics are thinking it's dangerous. But it's infectious. Whoever's spreading this doesn't care, and we want to stop them."

    She also turns to Flamel. He looks uneasy, but steps up as well. He stopped by Artifact Storage, and tosses a weird, hexagon-shaped book over to Staren before he continues. "She's also worried because it's been setting off my Clairvoyance like *crazy*. And I was originally built to fight world-threats, you know? The MAD outbreak! So, my brain's tuned to that kind of apocalypse thing. I, uhhh..." He adjusts his sunglasses. "It's been setting off mushroom-cloud visions. Really bad stuff. *Really* bad stuff." He taps one of his temples and draws out... an image of the world blooming with those vile rising mushrooms. "Maybe that's just my clairvoyance having a problem. But, it means it's bigger than just a weird mailbomber."
Phasewalker     Ainkli responds to Persephone, snapping out of his stupor, "That would be pretty good... I wonder if I can induce MES in non-psychics. Usually there's a genetic component involved..." He taps at his jaw, looking around the halls that all seem so... pleasant, so open, so vibrant, and that's not even considering the psychic architecture he can see woven into everything.

    "Does this place accept donations? I feel like I want to donate."

    Once in the classroom, he teleports directly onto one of the beds, and sits down in a criss-cross fashion. He smiles as he settles in, and watches Hollis while she gives them all the rundown. His eye flick over everything, and his sticks out his tongue tip to concentrate on the details of what he's seeing. When he does see it, and has it explained, he waits for an opening in the conversation, then raises his hand like a good student and waits for his prompt. When he gets it:

    "I can trace active psychic phenomena back to the person creating it, and I have some intrusion and hazard countermeasures myself. I can even suppress techniques as they're used. I believe I can be very useful to your organization for this problem. If it comes down to field combat, well, that's my specialty."

    "Do we know anything about who is doing this yet? Any motives? Even apocalyptic crazies have their reasons for doing what they're doing."
Staren     Dynamite?! Staren reflexively reaches for her laser pistol. Others have pointed out how useless it'd be in a fight, but it makes her feel like she can do something, anyway. She DID bring it, but the belt holster is inaccessible with the labcoat tied over it. She fumbles with trying to fit her hand under the labcoat for a second or two before she remembers that, while Persephone's here, explosions don't happen unless she allows it, and relaxes, still a bit uneasily. Wondering if an explosion can catch Persephone by surprise.

    But after Candy says his peace, agreement is on her face. She nods. "I was never good at trying to do things that way... but if you're actually good at it, I hope you teach people lessons that need it." Obviously, it'd be better if they learned their lesson without violence, but... Some people won't :pensive: Staren tilts her head curiously. "Is being good at it related to why I can't see into your heart with Persephone's powers?"

    Well if there was any doubt about the suits thing, Hollis confirms it. As turtlenecks are mentioned, she idly fingers the neck of her sweater. "...Wait, are turtlenecks the result of *other* psychic meddling?"

    A long hallway. Staren has more time to take in the architecture. "All these weird shapes... lack of sharp angles, or even of rounded corners evocative of them... This has some kind of purpose, doesn't it?" She's not sure if it's just standard architectural technique or a sort of psychic geomancy, though.

    Hovering beds? Staren starts to climb into one, and mid-motion is suddenly a black shorthaired cat leaping onto the bed. (If Persephone said some color of bandanna looked good before, the cat is wearing a cat-size one now.) She sits on all fours, head raised to watch the teacher... and then has a better idea, if Persephone sat down too, leaping over to her lap or at least next to her. Yes. THIS is the position of superior comfort for learning.

    "Woah. Psychic warfare on Candy's world? Is it natives, or offworlders? ...Blowing them up without knowing more, it could set off some latent trap, right? Or even play right into their hands?"

    The seriousness of the words is perhaps slightly undermined by the squeaky, cat-sized voice.

    Ooh, book! Staren will pick that up after this discussion, and gives Flamel a nod in thanks.
Persephone Kore      Persephone visibly turns Candy's words over in her head for a while. Most people make some graceless attempt to conceal how hard they're thinking: they start talking before they've got a destination in mind, and they stall for time with 'um' and 'ah' until the twists and turns solidify. I've never done that, though! It always seemed really silly to hide when you're stopping to think. Don't people appreciate it when you show them you're listening?

     Finally, she says: "Decisions about power are made with force. I don't like that at all, but you didn't make the rules, did you? It's really true, though! Only sore losers take their ball and go home when you turn out to be better."

     Phony steps towards him, uncomfortably close. There's only a four-inch difference between them, but for a passing instant, it feels like four feet. Telekinetic pinpricks trace eddies on his skin, an acute reminder of the fact that I can do whatever to you with just a thought! But you don't dislike that, do you?

     Her finger pokes his forehead. She smiles an utterly crushing smile. "So don't be a sore loser, okay~? Open up for me sometime!"

     She steps back and everything returns to normal, except for her too-warm smile.

     In the classroom, Persephone plops herself down on one of the floating beds, laying on her belly and propping her chin up in both hands with an expression of rapt attentiveness. Being a dutiful student comes naturally to her, even if I don't fit the part anymore! Ahah, I guess some things will really never be the same.

     "Running a fever," she muses after Forsythe's description of the accountant. But rather than immediately volunteering her capabilities, she asks guilelessly: "What were you hoping we would do about it, Holly?"
Forte <J-IC-Scene> Persephone Kore says, "In a place like this, it's as silly as covering your face so nobody can see your expressions."

Forte, who's wearing a poncho that's constantly covering the lower half of his face, glances side-eye at Persephone in passing.

If anyone thinks to actually pry, they might find that, shocker of all shockers, he's quietly evaluating this facility's defenses and considering it as a potential target for a Watch raid or infiltration. He's wondering if they have dangerous memetics locked up in a vault downstairs, ready to deploy offensively, and if so if he can get his hands on them - to destroy or to use for his own goals, he hasn't decided yet.

He also occasionally has a lightly encrypted file run through his central consciousness thread labeled 'watch_safehouses.zip'. If it's extracted and decrypted using some sort of psychic-to-computer interface, turns out to be an earworm song about badgers and mushrooms.

Whether someone's reading his thoughts or not, Forte picks a spot in the room to hover in place in, not bothering to sit down, and listens.

"I see," he says, finally. "I can say that, if what you're saying is true, you're the preferrable option."

"... You are also describing a situation where the precaution is vigilance," he says. "Organization-wide awareness and vigilance, down to the end user. That working out is about as believable as pre-unification Santa Claus. Whether it's us, you, or Concord, the antimemetic precautions will be kept up for a week at most before people let their guard down."

"So I hope, then, that you have some other countermeasure cooked up."
Cantio "I think I know what you mean. Maintaining the right public image can be really tricky, especially when you're dealing with human minds instead of logical ones." Cantio chuckles lightly and rubs her neck, taking another moment to glance around as Hollis leads them onwards. "And then people get upset when you point out that they're walking right into another disaster because they think it'll be different this time despite doing the same exact thing."

The mention of a summer camp has her raising an eyebrow, though. "There's even children with these kinds of powers? Huh. A camp to help them control it must be great for your public image, then."  Another laugh, and then she furrows her brow again.

"But if there's people that still won't trust you even with that, then maybe... Maybe it's not that surprising that methods like Mister Candy's are still in use, too." Cantio considers Candy's response to Persephone for a while, brow furrowed and finger on her chin as she mulls over too many things at once. How to get her name out there, how to test her theories, how to handle that whole secession issue...

"... Ah! N-not here or anything, just... Thinking out loud." She clarifies to nobody in particular, quickly recalling that she's still near other people that can hear things she says. Clearing her throat, Cantio promptly shuts up for a while, taking that opportunity to pay attention to where she's going and just how windy and curvy this whole place is.

She also makes sure not to stumble down the tiny stairs this time upon reaching the Think Tank. She even manages to take a seat on one of those floating beds nearby Persephone without too much issue, giving her the perfect vantage point to  take notes on what Hollis is laying out for the group!

And also to use her legs as a semi-table while she taps away on her tablet to take said notes down. It's cleaner than sitting on the floor (probably). "I... Think I understand enough." She doesn't. "Do you have any possible suspects on who might be doing this? Someone with a bone to pick? A rival agency, turned down for a contract somewhere because of psychics from here, might have more to gain from nobody trusting or cultivating psychic powers than they would from things not exploding?"

She looks over at Candy and Forte, then strokes her chin. "Maybe even... A government that might want this all to fall apart?"
Flamel Parsons     The gesture Hollis made to Phasewalker was of a gratitude unimaginable by most people. She has spent hours trying to balance budgets. Ainkli gets that kind of burden-lightening motion of pure exhaustion. "*Absolutely yes*, we're accepting donations."

    Once the briefing is concluded though, the answers are more direct. "*Really?* If we can verify that resistance, I'll get you access to one of those letters in Sasha's lab." She presses her hand around the bridge of her nose at the second question. Cantio gets unease about it. "I don't like saying this. But I don't have any idea, and some of the agents -- even Parsons -- they're saying it *might* be the MAD-Men. And you're right. It sounds like rivals, it sounds like a government, really, because that's what the MAD-Men are. At least, that's what they used to be. The Psychonauts managed to stop most of them in the sixties. There were a lot of them, spread out through most of the world's governments. We even had some in the Psychonauts."

    Flamel pipes up. "Think of them like alpha-infected. Major sources of spread, but not debilitated by it themselves. They were still going to get themselves hurt eventually, but they were planning ahead to involve a lot of other people! And they had the power and resources to do it. If there's any around, then they'll still be very... authority. They'll still have positions of power, maybe. If that makes any sense."

    Hollis looks to Persephone, then Forte. "I'm not asking you to be on-guard at all times. I'm just asking you to not align yourself with *anyone* saying they've got a new secret to open your eyes with, something that would turn you against most of the world. Anyone asking you to look at something blank until you understand it, or open your mind and see something you can't. You need to not fall in line with them, ally with them."
Phasewalker     "It should be quick and easy to verify my defenses. I admit I'm not a metapsionic specialist but I've enough training to prevent most telepathic intrusion." Ainkli wants to be humble about it, because he's talking to bona-fide experts in the field of psychic techniques, and he was... mostly self-taught, after a fashion. He looks between the others as they discuss things, strange green eyes shifting as his neutral lizard face takes on the air of a sleepy iguana. He hasn't much else to contribute beyond listening for key information for how he can contribute. The briefing seemed pretty self-explanatory, the first avenue being to stare at that piece of paper and try to trace the one who contaminated it.
Forte "Ah. You are less concerned with the Watch becoming infection vectors as you are with direct alliances and support," says Forte, nodding. "This makes sense."

"Message received, then."

Something occurs to him. He glances across the room to Candy, and sends a quick radio message.

Then he glances over at Flamel. "Can I have a copy of that book?" he asks.
Candy Phony has the hard read, it's true--and in the non-psychic sense, to boot. She doesn't have to be psychic to see the twinkle in his eye, or the way his cheeks darken.

     His forehead poked, he giggles. "Of course, Phony. Just because I have a lock don't mean the door -stays- locked. It's just housekeeping, that's all!" That's the closest thing Staren will get, at least right this minute, to an answer about why he has that ability. "You and Ms. Egghead here oughta come visit sometime. I'll let you in!"

     Staren's approval seems to surprise him, despite his apparent trust in her. "Thanks! Have to admit, you're probably the most reasonable egghead I ever met." His eyes twinkle. "Speaking of, I like your ray gun! It suits you.~" He doesn't seem to mind at all that Staren drew--Candy knew exactly what he was doing, conjuring up a thing like dynamite.

     Forsythe emphasizes that trying to meet one of these guys would be a bad idea. "Sure, I understand, Forsythe," he says. "I still think maybe they'd like me more than you guys," adds Candy teasingly. More seriously, "Don't worry! I'll be careful." After all, there is definitely the risk that whoever this is will just assume the worst of him by association.

     These attacks don't seem to indicate the person being the social type, exactly. He gets more of a 'political assassin' vibe from these reports than 'freedom fighter,' and while that is a respected profession in his book, ones this methodical don't tend to respond well to unforeseen developments.

     "I--" He stops dead in his tracks towards the bookcase is halted when he notices what Staren has done. "Oh, CUTE!!" He bounces up and down, feet splaying out mid-bounce, fists balled up before his chest as if to hold back an even bigger outburst.

     He hurries over and sits down beside both the scientist cat and the terrifyingly powerful psychic. There are pets in Staren's future.

     "Huh?" he says like an old person just reminded of something, glancing up at Forsythe. "Oh, sure, my mind's already made up! You were gonna do it without us anyway, if we didn't show up, you know? This way, if I find out you guys are sons of bitches, the back of my hand is that much closer, ain't that right, Forte? Hahaha."

     "I'll keep an eye out for anybody trying to sell me a bridge, don't you worry."
Staren     Somewhere along the way Staren happens to try reading one of the 'stars' in the mindscape again, more gently to just get surface thoughts without a whole backstory, and oh huh he's casing the joint for invasion? Should I say something? No, come on, it's a psychic organization, they've *gotta* be able to detect that stuff. Also I feel kind of bad for seeing that. How do I use these powers to increase my understanding of people without invading privacy?

    Staren is at least as surprised that someone like Candy is complimenting her, at least, about this! "I try." She mutters, "It's everyone who says I'm unreasonable, who's unreasonable..."

    Now see, when you're a cat it's okay to sit in someone's lap and get pets. Which is very nice by the way! It just wouldn't work with-- Huh, actually, imagining her new default form sitting in Phony's lap kinda works out in a way that it doesn't with the old one and oooo-kay that's a train of thought to unpack later! Right now we are discussing important terrorists and testing cool powers. Yes. Oh fudge she can hear/see/sense this and she's going to tease about it and what was she(Hollis) saying? Verify the resistance? I should be able to do that now... but what if I push too hard and see too much? I'll leave it to the experts... MAD-Men? What kind of a name is that? I guess she's explaining. I could pull up logs of Flamel talking about them before but it'd be distracting to read them mid-briefing. Speaking of which... that can't be right!

    Staren-cat speaks up again: "But Persephone offered a new secret to open my eyes with and that seems to be working out so far! She's very nice."

    And suddenly Candy is squeeing and there is twice as much petting and Staren has that exact expression you're imagining on any cat that is receiving *unexpected petting*... but, she quickly acclimates to the attention and relaxes again. As a cat does. This is kind of nice actually.

    Her mind picks up the train of thought started by her verbal objection. Just helping makes her happy, and she's able to actually pull it off? I try, but... somehow it never works out so well. Is it because of lingering worries, doubts, and guardedness, or something else? How does someone so nice come to exist? ...Oh right I can just know the answer.

    The cat closes her eyes. In the mindscape, Staren turns to face the shining brightness behind her. Is it blinding brightness, or does it just make the details that much easier to see, that much clearer?

    Why are you the way that you are? Or rather,
    How does someone so kind come to exist?

    
Cantio "Stopped, but not wiped out. That would be an easy guess, unless..." Cantio taps her chin as she listens to Hollis and Flamel, tapping her tablet against her forehead a few times before letting it just float in place next to her. "Unless there's another group that wants everyone to think it's the MAD-Men so the people that are really behind it have a cover story."

She pauses briefly, then shakes her head. "But then it really could be anyone in that case. Um... You don't happen to have any contacts with those remaining figures, do you? Investigating them-er. If you haven't already, that is? Maybe looking into them again might give us something to work with."

As she slides that tablet back into her pocket, she notices Candy's outburst, and only then does she realize that Staren's turned into a cat. "How did...? Where did the rest of you go? I've seen transformations that make someone bigger, but shrinking like this is..."

Once again, she's getting ideas. Terrible, terrible, scientific ideas.
Flamel Parsons     Ainkli gets a few nods. "You'll want to visit Agent Nein's lab. That's back down the hall, cross the Atrium, then look for the large metal doors. Take the ones on the right. He should be examining the letter that took down Agent 33. He'll run a test to check your immunity -- but either way, try and run your trace. Psychometry hasn't worked so far, maybe you'll have some better luck."

    One of Forsythe's eyebrows waves around, signaling something to the other perhaps. Candy's commentary gets a short "hmmm" and an answer. "Maybe they'd like you more. But not everyone who likes you is good. Important to remember. As long as you're careful, and as long as you listened to what I've got to say." Then she glances to what Flamel got earlier. "Mindswarm? Well, it's good psychic safety information. Parsons, grab a box of them if you want. Not like we have Agent O'Pia here to help these days."

    On Flamel's exit and return, there's some discussion, explanation with Staren's previous questions over radio from Flamel. "Everything here, all the architecture, is definitely that way on purpose. It's important to remember, this isn't a military. We don't fight people, we help people, and that means we have to be healthy ourselves. Ever been in a bad mental health space, and found that you can't really support someone else like that? That's how we are. We can't help anyone if we aren't okay!"

    As for the second objection, "Persephone is vetted -- but more importantly, Persephone doesn't activate your immune response. She isn't an intrusion, she's a growth. This is... I dunno what it is! But it's something a lot of people want to not know. So that's what makes it different." His radio chatter concludes as he comes back with a box full of the weird hexagon books. "Mindswarm, by Cassie O'Pia! This one won't be relevant to most people besides Staren, though, since the stuff you wanted was Archetype information!" The hexagonal book has an embossed bee in the middle of its shape. Themed!

    "Now, everyone's free to take a look around until visiting hours are finished. I'll be here if you have any questions." Hollis explains. "Agent Parsons will be here to help too, if you need to get anywhere or need any more familiar help."
Forte | "Ever been in a bad mental health space, and found that you can't really support someone else like that? That's how we are. We can't help anyone if we aren't okay!"

There's a wince from Forte at that.

"..."

He blanks his expression again, and gets Flamel's attention once the talk concludes.

"How... do you do that?"

"If you're honest about not being a military, what form does helping people take?"

"If, for example, someone asked for help."
Phasewalker     "Got it."

    Phasewalker promptly vanishes with a 'woompf' of air re-entering the space he was once occupying, teleporting back to the Atrium's center. His teleportation is extraordinarily powerful, any psychic ability can tell it came as easily as breathing to him. He looks around for the correct way to go, and follows the instructions to the letter to get to the lab. And he just walks there, because he has to actually have been there to teleport there, or has to be able to see it with unaided vision.

    He hums a little song to himself, strolling at a tempo, in a very good mental space right now.
Flamel Parsons     Flamel's expression gets bright behind those sunglasses. "Oh, that's easy. Now, I wanna emphasize this because a lot of people think otherwise: We don't *fix* people. We support people in solving their own problems. We astrally project into the mind, and unjam whatever mental machinery is clogged and damaged, to re-activate all the mental capacity for healing." That sounded very boring, so he makes several uneasy gestures. "Now, does this sometimes mean we fight a monster or a hostile mental construct? I mean, yes, it really does involve punching monsters, shooting bad guys, and things like that. *But*, at the end of the day, it's all about turning on the brain's normal healing. We don't *fight bad guys* or *kill bad thoughts*, we just help the brain function the way it wants to. Or, sometimes, if we're *very* good at our job, we can expand it a little more! But that's sort of..."

    Hollis speaks up here. "It's dangerous. That was from before the Psychonauts were more organized. Some agents still do it, but they take full responsibility for the consequences of *their own* actions."
Forte "... Fighting a hostile mental construct. Somehow, that's believable."

"..."

Forte sets the book down on the nearby floatybed he's not using. "I'd like to read the documentation first, and see a demonstration, if one's available, but..."

"How does one request... an 'unjamming'?"
Flamel Parsons     Shhhhhink! The metal doors slide open as Phasewalker moves to Nein's lab.
    https://i.imgur.com/KIcVrt5.jpeg

    In the middle of it, where a table has been shoved aside, is now a sort of complex interlocking series of textured glass domes designed to totally warp the visual contents beyond effective readability. Mechanical tracks rotate them, lining up a series of lenses for magnification. A man standing near the domes, tall, thin, with heavy goggles and a labcoat over a turtleneck, is consulting with another, shorter man, thicker, with huge amounts of graying curly hair, in a matching turtleneck and a thicker engineer's jacket.

    The thin man with the german accent says, "Quite fast."
    "Mhm. Fellow reminds me of Ford. You're here to take a look at the letter?"
    "Over here. Put this on." The thin german man brandishes a heavy helmet while he adjusts it for Lizard Skull dimensions.
    The older, thicker man in the engineer jacket explains, "If it detects an urge to do something that'll end at least a billion lives, it'll instantly strike your skull with a tungsten rod and render you unconscious. Just a precaution."

    "Once you have that on, take a look." Says the thin man, moving to a control console and starting to align several viewports for observation.
Candy      "Somewhere else, probably!" Candy poses a guess towards Cantio. It's spoken with a lot of confidence, considering he has no idea how Staren's transformation actually works.

     Not everyone who likes you is good, and of course, not everyone who dislikes you is bad. Candy is mature enough to know this, but immature enough to pretend like it's a shame for laughs. "I know, right?" he says faux-lamentingly, even poutingly blowing a lock of his hair aside.

     He dotes on Staren with Phony, but he makes a point of listening when Flamel answers Forte. It's a good question, and he ought to ask it--which makes him think up one of his own.

<J-IC-Scene> Staren says, "Expanding minds... is Maslow Peak the result of an attempt to do that?"

    "Them agents that bother with the mind-expanding--any of 'em, ah, that -didn't- accept the consequences? Like..." What are the chances all of this is the handiwork of one of those agents? "Maybe somebody tried, and it got ugly, and they didn't leave on good terms?"
Phasewalker     Ainkli looks around the lab, his tail dragging along as he goes. When he approaches the two gentlemen discussing things, both of them probably older than him since he's still in his twenties, he seems to smile at both of them, and a deep rumble rolls in his chest. It's kind of a crocodilian noise.

    He wordlessly accepts the helmet, putting it on once it's been measured. A flash of concern crosses his face when he's told what the helmet is meant to do, making him hesitate briefly... no, he's here to help, so he will.

    Ainkli peers through the viewports. His mind tries to scan the paper, to find the lingering psychic traces, and to seek the signature that created it. He fixates on it, analyzing it, getting a good idea of its make-up. He just wishes he didn't feel so nervous, because this is tantamount of staring at the Elephant's Foot with a mirror around a corner, and he doesn't know how this world's psychic power will measure up to his own. The only comfort, weirdly enough, is the possibility of sudden headaches administered by funny-looking helmets.
Flamel Parsons     Cantio gets a few somber nods from Hollis. "I was around for that. The... remnants of the Psychic Six, they had to deal with that. And they weren't equipped for a long-term exermination. I don't actually know what happened, it's all classified and censored."

    "Knowing about the cure to the MAD outbreak could un-cure it. You know? We actually have no idea how it got fixed, because fixing it made most people forget a lot about the *cause*." Flamel pipes up cheerfully. "Thaaaat's Psychonautics! That means most of the ex-MAD-Men we track are cured too. See the issue? Antimemetics is *hard* stuff. Apparently they used me to process part of the cure back when I was disembodied, but I don't even remember it happening! We have to assume it's part of the old MAD-Men though. I was getting these clairvoyance-bursts when they were active back then."
Persephone Kore      It's obvious at first that Persephone has never pet a cat before, but by monitoring Staren's feelings, she gets the hang of it within seconds. Soon she's an expert, knowing obviously and intuitively all the best places- behind the ears, under the chin, the exact sequences of scratches that draw out a satisfying shiver.

     Her response to Staren's *other* lap-sitting thoughts is a wordless pulse of warm, slightly teasing acknowledgement, followed by: Ahaha. Don't be embarrassed!! I was thinking about that too.

     With only a little bit of selfish reluctance, she lets Candy join in the petting, shifting to scratching with just one hand and draping the other arm around the boy's shoulders. "I'd like that a lot," she tells him, and earnestness pushes out the usual playfulness from her voice. "But only if you're really, utterly okay with it. I want to make sure your first time is nice, okay?"

     Staren's scrutiny meets with no resistance. She isn't a hypocrite about 'wearing a mask': Persephone is an open book to read, if not even easier than an ordinary person.
Persephone Kore      Persephone is five years old, just newly adopted by Sapient Heuristics from a murky past; her body is held in a perpetual flinch, her face still wears hints of an apologetic grimace. She is alone in Dr. Carpathia's office, and getting restless. When she knocks Carpathia's favorite coffee mug off the table and it shatters on the floor, Persephone panics and breaks down in heaving sobs. Carpathia returns, and before Phony can blubber out an apology, kneels down and gives her a hug. "Shhh. It's okay, ######. We can clean it up together. I'll teach you how."

     Persephone is eleven years old, an awkward and androgynous pre-teen. The girl who sits behind her in class keeps pulling her hair, and I hate it, because I just started growing it out! I hate *her*. One day, she turns the first glimmers of her mind-reading against that girl. It's because her tormentor is *jealous*, Persephone realizes, and that hits her like a punch to the gut. All the hate bleeds out of her, and it never comes back.

     Persephone is twenty-one, and she looks almost like she does now. Her heart-sense extends over the whole station, hundreds of people she's come to intimately know. There's a sense of obligation, of wanting to hold the world in her hands but being unsure if she's strong enough. But I *want* to be strong enough. It's unfair to them that I'm not. They think she's perfect. She knows she isn't. Nobody, not even the impossible girl they've created, is strong enough to give them what Persephone thinks they deserve.

     Persephone is twenty-five. The time is just a few months ago. Deep down, it still hurts her that she can't be an infinite engine, a creating star, accepting and executing every hope and dream. She can't hold the whole world in her hands, no matter how much my heart and soul are in it. But caring for just a few people, just those she knows personally, is so easy by contrast that it's a guilty pleasure. People like Candy, like Cantio, like Lilian, like you!

     I'm so lucky. It's utterly unfair. I've never really been hurt like you have. I don't have to be on my guard like you do. Sapient Heuristics taught me to love myself so much that it has to overflow. But not enough to be perfect.

     Can you forgive me that, for now? Is this okay until then? Caring for you more than any of the other voices I hear- it's selfish, I know. But I need to be selfish, for just a little while longer.
Cantio "Few people are, no. It takes a lot more focus than just stopping something once." Cantio shifts around uncomfortably on the bed as she lets her mind wander briefly back home once again. Can a secession really be ended by just showing up once?

Something for her to think about later. What gets her attention, though, is the curing of the MAD outbreak also removing the cause from people's minds. "Wait... Was it really cured at all, then? Or was it just... Removed from the timeline somehow? Or just some kind of... What was it called... I know some people mentioned this colletive unconscious thing, but is there an equivalent for memories? Is that even possible?" She's visibly straining now as she tries to wrap her head around that, trying to see if she can come up with...

She's not even sure what would help even if she could come up with something.

Eventually, her focus shifts to thinking about the difference between fixing people and helping them to solve their problems. It gets her thinking again, and it takes a while for her to even realize that she's dropped back onto the bed entirely. "I've heard a bit about such procedures, but I never really got the full story about them. What risks are involved for the person doing it? Or... Um. Anyone else that goes in?"

Lying down, of course, means she notices that Persephone's petting Cat-Staren. With nothing else for her hands to do (thanks to putting the tablet away), she shuffles up along the bed to reach over to offer some gentle scratches of her own. Of course, she just happens to hear...

'I want to make sure your first time is nice, okay?' Cantio goes wide-eyed as she stares right at Persephone and Candy, her face visibly turning redder while remaining stock still as though she just walked into something she wasn't supposed to.
Flamel Parsons     Ainkli gets a look at the interior of the dome. There is a letter, sitting on a small, round table. It is open. The envelope has only one address. The leter sits on top of it. The text is obscured by the warping of textured glass. Except for one area, a few lines of text high, which is unobscured, and which appears to be entirely blank.

    The lenses adjust
    The letter is blank.

    The lenses rotate.
    The letter is blank.

    The lenses adjust.
    THE WORLD IS PRESSING DOWN. AINKLI IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN. THE SUN IS PRESSING DOWN. AINKLI IS AT THE CENTER OF A STAR. THE UNIVERSE IS PRESSING DOWN. AINKLI IS IN THE MIDDLE OF A BLACK HOLE.
    The letter is blank.

    The lenses adjust.
    A segment of a letter is scrawled in handwritten text:

##### ###### ##### ##O#L# THOSE PEOPLE ### CEL#B##T##G.
#### ### ######ATING THE DAY #### ##### #### W## ### ###.
## ### #### #### ##### N#ME FOR IT ##. ## ### K#OW. # ##.
#### #### ## VICTORY DAY. VICTORY DAY. VICTORY DAY.
## ## #######NABLE. THE ###### ####'## D###. ### SHEER
ABSOLUTE FEELING OF JOY. IT'S JOY. JOYOUS, ## ####. ####
## #### B#CA#SE #### ####### #### WIN. WIN. VI#TO#Y. ####

    The psychic impulse is coming from two sources. The first is an extremely large, undefined area in the Indian Ocean. The second is an incredibly specific location somewhere in southeast Asia, though a map would be needed to point to precisely.
Candy      One benefit to being extremely untrustoworthy of authority figures is that sometimes, when you're around them, you see amusing things--things you hadn't been expressly looking for, but see as a consequence of keeping an eye out. At Persephone's particular turn of phrase, Candy laughs raucously, throwing his head back and slapping his thigh.

     "'My first time,' she says! Now who's the worst? Look, you even got Cantio all flustered, see." Yes, he saw. In that particular case, due to Staren's healing kitty presence, it wasn't even that difficult.

     When his laughter fades, the warmth of his smile ought to reassure Persephone and Staren alike. He wouldn't invite someone in who he didn't trust! A spark of mischief flickers in his eyes, the only warning. "What makes you think it's my first time, anyway? People have been in there before," he says with an impish grin.
Staren     Staren wasn't sure it would go back this far. The feel of that five year old, expecting reprisal for an accident, resonates deeply. How nice it would have been to meet Dr. Carpathia, when it seemed any conversation with her peers could become a shattered favorite mug...

    Staren imagines reaching a hand back to feel her long hair. Is there something to learn from the example of the jealous tormentor? Could the people who hurt Staren have been jealous? No, it doesn't add up... I'm projecting. I'm here to learn about Persephone, anything I learn about me is incidental...

    You want to protect them. Everyone deserves protection. Nothing can be enough. Trillions of people suffer in the Multiverse every day, and no one can help them all. Yet. Was it wrong, to not become something else for even the tiniest chance to do more? But, then I never would have become *this*. It's selfish, but I'm happy. Can I ever give back enough to make up for it?

    ...You thought the same. You just want to grant their wishes. Make their dreams come true. But unlike me, you're good at it.


    Staren's a bit taken aback at such a question. O-of course! You... you're a key part of helping me get where I am today! Staren thinks Persephone a hug. And then a bunch of thought threads trip over eachother. It's okay, I'm selfish too. We can be selfish together. It's not me who can 'forgive' you for not saving all the hearts crying out for help, but I would if I could. It can't be wrong for you to do what you've done. If it's wrong for you to do this I will tear down the part of Reality that says so and make it right, somehow!

    While all this intense Thinking is going on in the mindscape, Staren's dimply aware that petting and scritching is going on. She's distracted, and Persephone's aura burns away any thoughts that that might be embarassing, so for the moment her body just presses into the scritches and enjoys them like a cat.

    Hopefully Persephone and Staren's combined wholesome-healing-cute presence doesn't cause some sort of psychic reaction with the Motherlobe.
Phasewalker     Ainkli keeps his eyes open. There's a visible difference in his demeanor to two agents standing in there with him. They'd see the psychic emanation with their own abilities, the glow of a psionic power behind his eyes, as he resists a sudden and crushing weight that threatens to envelop him. It does not crush him.

    Ainkli Naragol imagines the careless expanse of space, where an exposed tongue's saliva could boil away, where the blood could get sucked through pores. He knows real terror, real fear. He knows how to guard himself against it. It pushes against a dam, and the dam creaks, but does not break, giving himself enough time to get some information.

    He pulls away, flinching his eyes closed. A hand goes to motion to the agents, and he tells them, "Alright, close it." He can still feel it, the scratches at the edges of his mind as it tried to claw into any empty space it could find. Gross.

    He pulls his computer pad out of his pocket dimension space, the tablet appearing in his palm as he started bringing up maps of this world. His eyes flick as he seeks the areas that he traced it to, vague imprints still fresh in his imagination. Then he taps at the map a couple times. "The ocean, around here. A huge space. Some kind of complex, or... or maybe a device emitting a psychic effect. And then there's this spot, right here." He zooms in to the incredibly specific location on the map to identify it, and leans to show it to the two agents.

    "Here..." He doesn't know where it is. He's not from Earth and won't know the significance. They will.

    His face looks tense. That clearly hurt to look at so closely. But he doesn't set off the helmet... that he hasn't thought to remove yet. It looks really out of place compared to his sci-fi jumpsuit.
Flamel Parsons     Cantio gets a shake of the head from Hollis. "Well, psychics can't time travel. We didn't do anything to the timeline. I know that. We *do* think the cure was deployed in the collective unconscious. If we knew what got changed, that is, if we could think about it, then it wouldn't have worked. I know it's complicated. Have to admit, I don't entirely get it myself. Antimemetics never stuck in my head."

    Cantio now gets much clearer answers though, from Flamel! "Well, the risks are simple! The risks for you *doing the Psychonautry* are, well, exhaustion, stress, temporary loss of aggressive capacity, temporary loss of focus, wounding, trauma, or in some cases loss of life! It really all depends on how deep you go and how intense the threat is. For the person experiencing it... none, if I'm doing it, unless there was already a major risk there! I've got the technique down precisely. If it's a *hostile* person, it can be a risk. I mean, if I meet someone on the battlefield I can extract secret memories or things like that, or temporarily disable aggression. But really, minds are *mostly* durable, accidents are usually when you set off a powderkeg that was already there!"
Flamel Parsons     Both agents near Ainkli look over the map spread out on the nearby table, then look at each other. They shrug. Neither location seemingly means anything to them. No dramatic knowledge about where they're going.
    "No idea." Says the scientist.
    "Nothing here, Sasha." Says the engineer.

    The scientist takes the helmet off the lizard, reaching up and waving it off with his telekinesis. Then he hands it off to the wider man, who looks it over. "No reaction." He mutters. "Is it still working?" He leans his head against the outside of the helmet, and mutters under his breath, "'What if eugenics two.'" A two-inch-thick tungsten rod blasts out of the forehead segment, bounces off the ground at high speed, twirls through the air, and lodges in a screen across the room.

    "He's clean." The engineer says to the scientist.
Flamel Parsons     "Well, like that!" Flamel says, cheerfully, taking a seat on nothing at all across from Forte. "If you'd like, I can bring you along on a few Astral Projections. See for yourself what it's like, you know? Maybe get a couple kills under your belt, you seem to me like the kind of guy who needs to get his knuckles wet to really get the feel for how it works. Then, you just let me know you're okay with it, and I'll take whatever team you're comfortable with having in there in for a dive!" He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "We all do it every so often. It's like a tune-up, you know? Cleaning out the cooling fans and things like that. Just helps to get an outside perspective every so often."
Forte "A tune-up, huh."

"... A couple ride-alongs, then. Then we'll see."

Up close, there's something weird that's a bit more noticeable - did the book Flamel gave Forte have a blank cover?

"... I've been alone for a few years. There may be... monsters," says Forte, trying to open up a bit more. "A considerable amount."
Phasewalker     "Well." Ainkli has only that to say about the tungsten rod countermeasure. It would've worked, too, he's not any tougher than the standard human is when it comes to his brain case. He uses telekinesis to un-lodge it from the screen, and place it on a table, calmly plucking it with a mere glance.

    "I'll take this to the Director, and then we'll figure it out from there. Uh, right. Name's Ainkli Naragol." He gives a brief wave, and kind of like a doof, he forgets to get either of their names before he goes.

    Woompf.

    Fwoomf. He appears in the classroom, looking for Hollis. He turns out to have appeared a little close, so he steps back, and shows her the locations on the map. "Got a lead," he tells her. He glances up to the others, and briefly hesitates as he realizes Staren isn't visible. His head swivels, then his eyes rest on the cat. 'Oh.' His facial expression exudes that feeling, before looking back to Hollis for what she's got to say about it.

    "Also got a screaming headache," he adds, "That stuff is no joke. Whatever they're using is the neutron bomb of psychic intrusions, could only look for a second."

    A beat. "Oh, and something about Victory Day? Feelings of joy? I'm not sure what that means." It only occured to him to mention it now.
Persephone Kore      Persephone transmits a complex blend of feelings- not a frown, but closer to a wistful smile. I'm sorry, Star. That was a silly thing for me to think. It isn't that I 'think I should', you know. It's not a responsibility that chafes. I *want* to be kind enough. I really, really do. Nobody can absolve me of that.

     This very serious and earnest train of thought is derailed by Cantio. Persephone turns her head to look straight at the hapless princess. Her expression is devastatingly, unflinchingly sweet. One gets the sense that embarrassment is an emotion she has only ever experienced by proxy.

     "Cantio," she says in utter warmth, "I'll explain when you're older, okay~?"

     She pulls Candy in a little closer with that arm around his shoulders, and rests her cheek on the top of his head. "Besides," she says, "I'll make it he first time for something. I'm special, if you haven't heard." He can feel, more than see, the wider smile that spreads across her face.
Staren     A responsibility? It's our duty. Someone has to do it, don't they?

    And then the connection is broken and... it's like waking up from sleep. Something feels nice. Oh, it's their fingers because I'm a cat. I kinda don't want it to stop... Maybe a little longer...

    Eventually, she speaks. "What are we talking about now? I missed it."
Cantio "N-no, I'm not! I'm just... Gh." Candy drawing attention to Cantio being flustered only serves to make her even more flustered, and she sits up quickly to keep her face at least somewhat hidden while she tries to distract herself from whomever may or may not have been in- "Where?! Older?! I-I'm already...!"

Maybe focusing more on the potential work stuff will help keep her mind off that. She claps her palms against her face to jar herself back to the fact that she's at the foot of a bed, and... Yes. Listening to Flamel and Hollis. Good. Very unsexy. Very dry.

"Y-yeah... Uh. I don't have much experience, either... With antimemetics!" That's not helping either, is it? Not if her head practically burning with embarrassment is any indication. "My home's more focused on stuff you can hear rather than anything really... Purely mental? S-so stuff like this is all pretty new to me, risks and societal brain... Stuff and all."

Hearing that the risks are primarily for the person doing the mind work rather than the person receiving it does put a bit of a damper on her sails. "If that's the case... Hmm. I can see why it's not really done so much, then. I can just imagine all sorts of people seeking that sort of... I guess an almost impossible fix? Without having to worry about their own minds getting damaged in their process. Especially if it's really someone else's mind on the line."

There's a lot of food for thought, and she's going to need some time to figure it all out. She'll also need some time to not think too much about what may or may not be happening behind her.
Flamel Parsons     Candy's question: "Them agents that bother with the mind-expanding--any of 'em, ah, that -didn't- accept the consequences? Like... Maybe somebody tried, and it got ugly, and they didn't leave on good terms?"

    Hollis's answer is concise, serious, and intense. "It's happened. I'd say two times, to the best of us. But none of them would do something like this. *Never.*" She shakes her head.

    "Every Psychonaut involved there... They either can't, anymore, or they never would. *Never*. It would be spitting on memories too important to them. And I know they accepted the consequences, even if some of the details are classified. But... if someone knew where to make a new strain of MAD, I suppose one of the agents who worked on the cure would have leads."
Candy      Candy leans against Persphone with a warm, tranquil smile. "I think I heard something like that," he softly answers. Staren asks what everyone was talking about. "Yeah," he says with a grin, "I get that way around her, too."

     More seriously, "Forsythe was explaining how one of these bogeymen got cured, or, I guess, how it didn't. That is, it did get cured, but nobody seems to know how, 'cause the way these things work, knowing might re-fuck it, you know?" He seems proud of 're-fuck' as opposed to 'un-cure.'

     "Plus some stuff about how these guys do their work." The exchange between Forte and Flamel, however, he doesn't speak on--that seems like something Forte would prefer to discuss as he's comfortable with it, where non=psychonauts are concerned.

     "And," he says, pointing at Hollis before gently scritching Staren's chin, "In between me and Phony giving Cantio a hard time, I even had time to shoot off a few questions myself. So, Forsythe," he says, "If you can get me some info on where those agents are, I think that'd be a good place for us to start, ah? Even if it wasn't them, they'd probably be able to point us in the right direction, if it's this MAD thing after all."
Phasewalker     After leaving some notes and observations, Ainkli awkwardly stands around while people mull over concepts of the psyche that he doesn't really have a strong notion of himself. He isn't a telepath and most of his psychic mastery is in, well, the physical side of things, as he puts it.

    Once it's clear that the meeting is mostly done -- <J-IC-Scene> Flamel Parsons says, "Well, the meeting's mostly over!" -- he perks up. And after his reply, he teleports away to the Atrium and begins to mingle about the agents and employees, getting to know who's who and what they're up to. He'll be lingering around the place until he's clear on when a mission is gonna be put together to investigate some of the information they've found so far.

    He doesn't want to leave yet. This place is wonderful.
Flamel Parsons     Cantio gets a firm nod from Flamel. "Yep, even the most desperate can feel a little guilty asking for session after session, fix after fix... plus, we can't really 'fix', we just activate the healing that the brain wants to do in the first place. We're here to support, not really to change. I mean, at least, not permanently. If some guys are pointing guns at me I'm well within my rights to flip the switch on their psychic affinities to make them not want to do that!"

    "Come along on one sometime! I'll show you what it's like."

    Candy gets his answer too. No dossiers or anything, but Hollis writes some names down on a notepad and hands the little bit of paper over. "The cure was developed with Cassie O'Pia, Robert Zanotto, Otto Mentallis, and Compton Boole, all advised by Ford Cruller as best he could, before the Psychic Six were mostly dissolved. They're famous enough that you can just ask around. Maybe pick up their trading cards around the Motherlobe, or a copy of, ugh, True Psychic Tales."
Staren     Cantio is too nice and sweet to deal with antimemetics. Staren hopes she doesn't feel that she has to master them, that line of thinking is how you get something like Dark Staren. Does anyone really wanna see Dark Cantio?

    "Honestly, I expect most people who need it, wouldn't go for it. It's like Persephone said, the Psychonauts have made sure to put cultural memes about it being okay, expected, regular, and normal, like a tune-up. If I'd been thinking more clearly, maybe I would've asked for a Mind Dive instead of going to the Mountain."

    SCRITCHES.

    "Yeah. I can follow that. You can talk to these guys in a way Dark me never could, nor me-me. Keep in touch with what you find out!"