Scene #9099: Cruise Control

Owner	Pose
Persephone Kore	Sapient Heuristics is a long way from any Earth, but on the Earth it's the least-long-way from, the year is 1988. Zubrin Station doesn't look it. Fed by Multiversal trade and spared from war for twenty-some years, this could be the poster solar-system for the blessings of unification. From outside, a gunmetal d8 of a space station shouldn't seem so inviting, but it's just scuffed and workaday enough not to feel menacing. The small ships that come through the nearby space warpgate are heavy with goods and light on people. They dock at the polyhedron's equator, which has two big-windowed floors for passengers and crew to stretch their legs. Of course, the station also has smaller, artificial warpgates aboard for those who'd rather not endure the majesty of space to get there. Inside, it's paradise as a shopping mall; shining glass and graceful white plastic. The distant Sun casts softer sunbeams through its cathedral-like exterior panes, but the red planet Mars (or Ares?) looms large, swallowing up a quarter of the view. Flowering plants in blue aerogel potting hedge its walkways. Peaceful fountains babble their water-chatter over the unnatural stillness of space. Little shops sell novelty space foods, long-haul coffee, books and cassettes for the road, low-maintenance pets, or greasy diner breakfast. People are sparse, but they smile. Zubrin is trying very hard to turn from a crossroads into a destination, but for now it's a place to let the refueling hours melt away. For exactly one person here, though, it's a destination already.
Persephone Kore	https://youtu.be/hab6CW-SsdM UNKN#972: Hey, Dylan! You did a really good job with your role. I'd love to hang out and get better acquainted sometime. Can Woz and I come visit you soon? DCruise: Oh you're those guys with the cool armor DCruise: Yeah! How's late breakfast sound DCruise: Also is he like your boyf DCruise deleted a message. DCruise: DCruise: They've got good hash browns Dorothea Cruith-- sorry, Dylan Cruise sits on one of those high stools at a facadeless greasy spoon's counter, hunched over onto her elbows and tapping at a little plastic device. Sometimes she casts glances over at the parallel promenade anticipating Sougo, but mostly she's nursing a little too-sweet coffee, which has already dribbled on her jacket. Whatever scratches she's kept from the fight, they're covered up with bandaids in toylike colors, matching the stickers on the metal baseball bat leaning against her leg. She filled the armor, but it didn't fit her. Not like this does: sacrifical t-shirt turned painter's smock; wool-lined barn jacket; raggedy jeans and running sneakers. That's her.
Timespace Riders	UNKN#972: Late breakfast sounds great! We'll be there DCruise: Also is he like your boyf DCruise deleted a message UNKN#972: Yes lol UNKN#972: He's wonderful At a certain clock-repair-shop-slash-home... "Hey, Woz! Dylan got back to me!" Sougo merrily announces, bounding into the front-of-the-store-slash-living-room. "Ah? Excellent, my Demon King," says Woz, smiling at Sougo from his spot at a small dining table. That curious book of his is open on the table. "Please enjoy yourself. I will search for the whereabouts of other Riders while you are away." Sougo giggles, mischief dancing in his brown eyes. "Well, she's expecting the both of us, so..." Woz utters a put-upon sigh, his smile swiftly changed into a thin frown. "Of course. I wouldn't wish to be rude to an ally," he says flatly, like a cat that's been denied the opportunity to claim something is his own decision. "I presume you've already secured transportation for this outing, sire?" "I sure have," says Sougo brightly, holding up a Ridewatch. "My Demon King..." the color all but drains from Woz's face.
Timespace Riders	Some time later, traffic control picks up a small object--no, two objects, close together, drawing nearer to the station. Through the glittering majesty of space, Kamen Rider Zi-O flies on trails of fire, his knightly armor shifted in its aesthetic from twinned wristwatches towards a white-and-orange space shuttle motif--the Demon King is mantling the story of Kamen Rider Fourze, a charismatic seeker of friends who protected their smiles with the power of the stars, who once famously said: "It's time to go to space!" (He never said that.) Held in his arms in Kamen Rider Woz, whose smartwatch-themed silver-and-green armor is likewise shifted towards the iridescent purples and shuriken motifs of the potential-future Kamen Rider Shinobi. The retainer's armor includes the obligatory ninja scarf, in iridescent purple, gently flapping in the airless void as trace particles and dust brush against it. "I expected to be terrified, but... I feel rather at peace. Somehow inspired, as well. Space is rather beautiful, is it not? ...Thank you, sire." Zi-O squeezes Woz affectionately as the two of them come in for a landing, past one of the small ships docking at the equator. Inside, both remove the futuristic pocketwatches from their Drivers. Sougo removes the the gold-black half of the Zio II watch (Zi-O's Reflection of) and the orange-bezeled watch with the space-themed rider (Kamen Rider Fourze) on its face, each slipping off of the symmetrical bulky white Timespace Driver. Woz, meanwhile, slips open the green-handled side-loading gate of the sleek black Beyondriver, removing the Shinobi watch. Both armors dissipate; a pink pillar of light and dancing green boot-down lines erasing each in turn until Sougo Tokiwa and Woz, the somewhat unusual time traveler, are present. They both make their way to the indicated diner. "Felicitations, Dylan Cruise," says Woz, in a better mood than before he'd left. "Hi, Dylan!" Sougo waves excitedly. Somehow, their outfits fit them as much as their armor does. Woz wears a vaguely apocalyptic but flattering ensemble; an olive drab double-breasted longcoat with snap-button sleeves left open at the shoulders, slim black leggings and leather ankle-boots, tied together with a grey wool scarf. He's the picture of 'vizier.' Sougo, meanwhile, is much more colorful. Navy slacks rolled up at the ankle to show both the colorful striped cream-navy inseam and the mint-colored ankle socks below, and to emphasize his hiking boots. A coral pink button-up with asymmetric sky blue paisley patches hangs loosely over him, stylishly oversized. Sougo takes a stool beside her, and Woz beside him.
Timespace Riders	"You mentioned they had good hash browns, so I guess I'll have to try those. Anything else you recommend?" "Do you travel through space often?" Woz asks Dylan directly. "I was not expecting it to be so... peaceful. Nor to be so inspired by its naked majesty." He thoughtfully turns over a futuristic grey pocketwatch with a square face; sort of like the ones he'd used to transform and shift his armors during their 'fight,' but the face doesn't bear the visage of any armored fighter in particular. It's just a plain assortment of gears and inner workings, as if it were waiting to be properly adorned with a face.
Persephone Kore	"Felicitations, Dylan Cruise..." "Hi, Dylan!" As the king and his vizier approach, Dylan whips her head around to look- but she's already smiling, and she started to look a half-second before they called out. "Hey! Uh. Sougo, Woz," she says, lifting her fingers off the rim of her coffee mug just an inch to flex-wave, as if she were a martini sophisticate and not puppylike-excited at all. The Marslight, like moonlight, through the windows makes her look a tiny bit like a cute devil. "Glad you could make it. Not that you wouldn't! I'm not, like, impugning your timekeeping abilities, or anything." She sketches a circle around her face, indicating the mask, with her non-sacredly-appointed coffee-holding hand, and then scoot-turns in her seat to face the counter again when they sit down. "Uh. The hash browns? Oh, right. The hash browns. Those are pretty good, pile a bunch of hot sauce on your plate and dip the bites. They serve 'em round, I think it's called 'draniki'." She gestures circularly with a fork, then taps her lips in total focus. When she hunches down like that she's a good foot shorter than Sougo sitting upright. "The meats are gonna be different than you're used to, but they're good, they got everything. Uh. I like the pumpkin-mushroom soup. The li'l pancakes. The Drowning Omelette Barbecue Slamwich. Actually, yeah, can I get the--" She circles counterclockwise with her fork now, gesturing the fortysomething hostess behind the counter over, and then beams like she read her mind magically. "--the Dobbs, Carrie?" D-O-B-Slamwich. "Oh, sure thing, sweetheart. More coffee?" "Yes ma'am." "And are you-all ready to order too?" 'Carrie' takes the pencil from behind her ear by habit, but there's no sign that she'll need to write anything down. "Do you travel through space often?" When the hostess leaves for the back, one way or another, Dylan leans over the linoleum counter on her crossed arms to peek around Sougo at Woz. Her smile might read as 'smug' if it weren't so open. "Sure. Fly out here every couple weeks since I was a teenager. Clears the head. Space-walks, too." Which isn't the same as a 'spacewalk', by enunciation. Whatever she's speaking isn't Japanese and isn't English. "And we all go to Pluto and Eris to play. It's beautiful because it doesn't matter. Y'know? Can't imagine living on a real planet. All cooped up with the sky over your head." A big swig of coffee, and mug-against-counter is her gavel. She points at the faceless square watch. "What's that about anyway? Symbol of kinghood or something?" She could ask it, and she might, but the story-from-Woz is probably more interesting.
Timespace Riders	Glad you could make it. Not that you wouldn't! I'm not, like, impugning your timekeeping abilities, or anything. Sougo giggles and shifts on his seat, his bright smile forming two dimples below his brown eyes. They serve 'em round, I think it's called 'draniki'. "Draniki..." He likes the word. And are you-all ready to order too? "Um," he says, when prompted to order, "Could I get a 'slamwich' and a side of draniki?" He really likes 'slamwich.' The goofy grin is the proof. "The pumpkin soup, if it please. If you happen to have coffee, a cup would suffice. Black. Thank you." "Oouh! Could I get a cup of coffee with one of those little creamer things, please?" Sougo asks, reminded by Woz. It's beautiful because it doesn't matter. Y'know? "I believe I could begin to know," says Woz. "I was struck by the vastness of it. Every star seems a distant, but attainable possibility. And those closer to us, relatively--such as Pluto and Eris," he smiles faintly, "Seem larger than the mind may imagine or even pictures could justly portray." "Hmm..." Sougo makes a noise of fond regard. What's that about anyway? Symbol of kinghood or something? "It is called a Miridewatch," says Woz. "A play on words; 'mirai--future,' and 'ride,' as in 'Kamen Rider.' But the name is hardly so important as what it represents, as your question rightly implies." He nods approvingly towards her. "It is a means for me to chronicle potential futures and mantle them as aspects of myself, similar to how my Demon King mantles the stories of the past." He offers it for her inspection, sliding it across the counter. It's light, and its metal is cool, yet there is a kind of warmth that is just faintly more than an imagining, like how holding a stone found from the dark, hot places of the deep earth seems to hold a gentle reminder of its power even absent its 'home'. "In a way, it is a book, awaiting a story; a cast awaiting a footprint. I chronicle these stories and wield them in defense of my king, and of those to whom I am Kamen Rider."
Persephone Kore	"Could I get a 'slamwich' and a side of draniki?" "Big eater," says Carrie, nodding fondly. Dylan already likes to eat, and she didn't get sides with it. "Then one black, one with cream, and a soup. All caff? You boys sit tight." Dylan beams after Carrie with a lopsided fondness while the hostess recedes into the kitchen. Gleaming chrome cooktops are visible through a swinging door; mundane things, but glittering red in the Marslight. "Oh, yeah," Dylan says to Woz, lulled into a dreaminess by the door's swing-swing. Her face slides down her arm to rest. "Out from Pluto, you can stare straight at the Sun. It's barely bigger than any other star. You think about it as a law of nature, something that'll always be there, but..." Her hand-out, palm-up gesture could contextually either say 'gimme five!' or 'you know?'. It's probably the latter. "'Mi-ride-watch'," she says slowly, not understanding at first, but treating the word-feel on her tongue with respect before her hand does the same. "Mirai-de-watch." She hefts it, as if testing its balance to throw, and strokes it with a thumb as gently as a living thing. "Y'know... this is closer to what I meant by 'doesn't matter'. A sheet of paper is scary. If you mess it up, you've messed it up. It was blank and perfect. But Pluto isn't blank. It's craters and scuffs and history." So is her face, with the band-aids; every scratch meant something. So is her bat. And the paint-stains on her shirt... "And this is 'waiting to be filled', so it's an un-scary blank. Right? Like space..." Then she looks at them, and between them, and her little pouty face draws in thought, and she snaps her fingers with a sudden urgent-- perpetuation clo- \| -ck "Horajdaûrigxo." ride \| (stay) The word gleams when you turn it over, like a little diamond's fire. She smiles that vulnerably-smug smile again in satisfaction and slumps back down, still holding the thing. "So that's what you're doing, huh? Trying to find the 'right' future for him? Cute. You're pretty lucky, Sougo."
Timespace Riders	Big eater. Sougo beams. And this is 'waiting to be filled', so it's an un-scary blank. Right? Like space... "Time and space are good friends," says Sougo fondly. So that's what you're doing, huh? Trying to find the 'right' future for him? Cute. You're pretty lucky, Sougo. "He is pretty great," Sougo says, looking Woz's way. "You honor me, Dylan Cruise," says Woz with a little color rising in his cheeks. But if the words weren't proof enough, his little cat-that-got-the-canary smile should be proof positive that he likes it. He especially likes the way that Sougo looks at him. "Once," he says, "'Finding the right future for him' was all that concerned me." He frowns slightly. "I believe now I wish to find one together with him. Moreover..." "It took me some time to learn that one cannot be Kamen Rider to only one person, even if all Riders seek their 'most true and perfect selves.'" A little smile at Sougo and at Dylan, both of whom have heard the phrase before. "Therefore, I also seek better futures for those who toil in vain. Or, to put it in spatial matters... those who labor under gravity without realizing it will not reward them for such; that while its downward force is contant, it is no more and no less than 9.8 meters per second squared." "Learning to exceed that speed and maintain it is difficult. Frightening, at times. But it is worthwhile, is it not?" He shows her a different Miridewatch--or perhaps, a different Horajdaûrigxo. This one bears the armored visage of a noble night, the silver helm adorned with a cobalt and gold winged headdress. There's even a ribbon near the center of the headdress, its ends uneven, pointing in different directions--like the hands of a clock. He purses his lips, turning it over after he shows Dylan the face. "There are some so accustomed to 'gravity' that they view its absence as an affront. Even so, I am their Kamen Rider." "What language was that, just a minute ago? It's pretty," Sougo asks.
Persephone Kore	"He is pretty great," Dylan echoes with her eyes on Sougo's, stoking Woz's ego a little more. "You honor me, Dylan Cruise." She straightens up to toss her barely-tossable hair preeningly: "Hey, hey, careful swinging the full name around like that, somebody might think I'm important." I believe now I wish to find one together with him. Moreover..." But then she quiets down. Dylan's macho momentum has a way of sputtering out exactly when she needs to be sincere; she's always pushing it, it's never pushing her. Head side-tilted forwards, she listens with almost the same kind of smiling tenderness Persephone might. "But it is worthwhile, is it not?" "Isn't it?" she finally says, eyes and smile sliding away. Her cheek, even squished into her hand, tenses. "I can't tell you. I've been falling 'up' my whole life. I'm just normal. 'This' is a place where someone like me is normal. I've never fought the current and won, like maybe you have. Is that worth it?" "... I can't ask people to pull themselves up, and not be a hypocrite. I can just ask them to take my hand." T% "... that they view its absence as an affront." "I h--" Dylan starts to say, and then catches herself instantly, face-scrunches, and sighs. "... I don't hate people like that. Not really. But I want to be mad, and I can't, and then I get mad that I can't be mad, and-- ugh." A long pause. She rubs her face into her stationary hand, instead of the other way 'round, then sets chin back on palm. "I'm the hero of people who won't let me save them, too, I guess. It's rough, isn't it." "What language was that, just a minute ago? It's pretty." "Huh? Esperanto. I'm always speaking it. Well, Mandarin and English too, but--" "Ohhhkay, guys! Here you go," juts in Carrie, carrying a big platter backwards through the swingy door. She sets out and fills three mugs (with one creamer for Sougo and three for Dylan), and then lays out the rest: "Two Dobbs, one with draniki- that was you?- and a garbuzok." That's the soup, evidently. A 'Slamwich' is a heap of (protein-synthesized) pulled pork and (ditto) sunny-side-up eggs slathered in barbecue sauce and sriracha mayo, then squished between two sturdy pieces of sourdough toast, the only thing that could structurally withstand the waterfall of sauce and yolk. (Dylan is already attacking hers with indifference to sticky fingers.) 'Garbuzok' tastes and feels like autumn, caramelized onions and yummy mushrooms in a thick pumpkin soup. "Now, tell me if there's anything else," Carrie says with a lingering warmth. "Mmph. Ysh'm." "Oh, and you've got your toys! My son wanted one of those," she says of the Miridewatch. "Mmmh..." ... "Whose is that, anyway? The watch," Dylan says in a minute, once she's got her airway clear.
Timespace Riders	Hey, hey, careful swinging the full name around like that, somebody might think I'm important. Woz smiles his catlike smile. 'Oh?' his eyes ask. 'And would that be so bad?' Is that worth it? ... I can't ask people to pull themselves up, and not be a hypocrite. I can just ask them to take my hand. "Entirely--but neither can I ask that of those people, or I would not be their Kamen Rider." I'm the hero of people who won't let me save them, too, I guess. It's rough, isn't it. "Yes," says Woz with a subtle nod. "Victories are not nearly no common as ground gained, and even that is seldom had. But both are precious treasures to me." Huh? Esperanto. I'm always speaking it. Well, Mandarin and English too, but-- "Uwoh," Sougo says, making a gooberish noise of sincere gushing admiration. His brows lift comically, and his mouth hangs briefly open. "That's so cool! Not just that you know two of the hardest languages there are, but you actually learned Esp--" Ohhhkay, guys! Here you go. Two Dobbs, one with draniki- that was you?- and a garbuzok. "Thank you for the food," say Sougo and Woz in tandem, the kind of way that they probably do a lot at home. Oh, and you've got your toys! My son wanted one of those. Sougo beams at Carrie, attacking his 'slamwich' with the same fervor as Dylan. "This is delicious. Thanks so much!" Whose is that, anyway? The watch. "Kayoko Kirenai," says Woz, lips pursed. "Chevalier Cobalt. A girl who would indeed view the lessening of gravity as an affront." Turning it over once more before stowing it in his coat, "If you desire something to direct your anger towards, direct it to the circumstances which leads such people to hold the beliefs that they do; or perhaps towards the beliefs and actions of those people." Sougo lowers his slamwich, several hearty bites taken out of it already. Chew, chew, chew. "Mostly, those people are scared. Or sad, or angry. And 'gravity,' well... it's always there, so it's easy to get turned around and think that it's always there for you." He frowns. "When I'm king, I want time to pass fairly for everyone," he says. "So that there won't be anyone who feels like they have to enforce 'gravity' just to get what they need while they still have time to use it. You know?" His head tilts slightly towards Dylan in an inquisitive dip. "The way things are now, some people never seem to run out of time, but other people don't have nearly enough to figure themselves out." "And when that happens, they get sad, because even if they don't know it on the surface, some part of them does. They get sad, or scared, or angry... and people deal with that in different ways. Sometimes it's enforcing 'gravity,' like Kayoko. Sometimes it's something else. But it never seems all that good for the people who end up doing it."
Persephone Kore	"Thank you for the food," "Ohhh, sweethearts," says Carrie as she slides into the back again, with a little 'pshaw' wrist-flip. "Finish your food, that's all I ask." Dylan smiles a tired-fond smile, like the fondness of a high-schooler for their favorite lunchlady. "... Huh Oh. That's just what they bring us up in," a sauce-smeared Dylan says on the topic of languages, though her legs kick a little off the stool from absorbing praise. It isn't as obvious when she blushes, but she probably is. "It's, like, good for the brain. That's why the hard ones. Same as learning an instrument, right?" Dylan does have, against all odds of how many blows she's taken, a phenomenally healthy brain. She nods along with Woz- "Yeah. It's just rough because I can't hit 'a circumstance'. Like, usually"- and then takes a huge mouthful of slamwich to chew while listening to Sougo. She stops chewing a few times to listen better, then wipes away most of the carnage with a napkin and finally swallows. "Sure. Difference between 'pressed into shape' and 'held in shape'," about gravity. And "When you're king," echoing without any trace of sarcasm. And-- "So you think people need 'enough time', instead of, like, 'enough place'." She gestures out in the vague direction of where Pluto and Sapient Heuristics might be, orbital mechanics permitting. "Isn't that assuming... that everybody gets better over time, and nobody gets worse? Lot of people need a helping hand to figure themselves out. I did. But maybe that's what Woz is for." Blinkblink. Glance glance. "Um. Y'know. Among other things."
Timespace Riders	Y'know. Among other things. "Among other things," giggles Sougo. Woz shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but when he thinks no one's looking, he does smile. "The, um, more serious answer to that," Sougo begins, "Is that... well, it takes a lot for someone to get better, and that person wanting it is part of the equation. Lilian talks sometimes about people who just... kinda..." He frowns. "Drift, instead of swimming. They aren't getting any better, but, they're probably not getting any worse." "I can't make someone want something. If they're drifting," he asks, "Then they're just the type of person who's going to say that wherever they wash up is the result of them 'swimming' anyway, right?" "For the other people--people that get worse with more time--yeah, I have Woz, but also..." The call of the slamwich beckons, and he pauses to indulge it. Beside him, Woz is savoring the taste of autumn, though not without a curious, expectant glance. "It's 'everyone gets what they need,' not 'everyone gets the same,'" says Sougo after a few more indulgent bites. He's never been more thankful for the sourdough in his hands--so much goodness would otherwise be escaping! "So if someone sucks, and they suck because they're, um, sitting on a big pile of time that someone else could be using, well... then my job as king would be pretty clear, wouldn't it?" "Some people just suck, and it doesn't have anything to do with how much time they have. But... I want to help those people be better, too. I have Woz..." "And I also have me," says another Sougo, from behind Dylan, wearing an impish smile and a wristwatch just a minute faster than the one worn by the Sougo beside her. Future!Sougo waves a finger-waggling little wave, his body rocking with barely constrained joy over being able to show Dylan one of his favorite tricks. He disappears in a little flash of pink, which Dylan can catch from the present Sougo as well if she looks back quickly enough. The food is delicious. Sougo in particular is certain he can skip lunch. Woz seems to think he can probably do something very light for lunch, himself. The two Kamen Riders offer their goodbyes--and nearly make their departure before something gives them both pause. A whirring, half cicada, mechanical (like a watch wound in timelapse, maybe), sounds from the blank Miridewatch in Woz's hand. He peers at it--and finds that the bezel has changed shape, but the face remains blank. There's a large grey dial around the bezel--like the ring of a planet. "How curious... it appears to have drawn... something from you, yet the story is incomplete. Perhaps we shall discover what chapters yet remain another time." Nevertheless, both Riders have cleaned their plates, as they promised silently to do for Carrie. All that remains, following a wave from Sougo and a hand-over-heart bow at the waist from Woz, is to depart. And so, with a fling of Woz's grey scarf, they do--the fabric unwinds impossibly, becoming much larger and wider than the simple garment which rested on his shoulders just a moment ago. A vortex of grey fabric envelops the two of them, then pulls into a single point like water down a drain, until the spot they stood in is absent scarf, Demon King or vizier.