Scene #9128: Architecture

Owner	Pose
Angela	"You know." Angela says, leading Flamel through the facility. "He has never asked to meet anyone before. It is against the rules, of course, but as Ayin returns from his 'trip', he is more and more willing to bend those rules. I suppose after Binah had broken in, the pathetic state of security is laid bare for all to see. Tell me, Flamel... What do you think about the facility, now that you've been here twice?" The facility hums with nervous energy as soon as Flamel arrived and likely well before it. There's hope and still the occasional horror but more than anything a sense of anticipation. The day they've all been working for is getting closer and closer. They're only 20 percent off from completing their goal. It almost seems like it'd be too cruel to fail here. And yet ... it's certainly possible. Angela doesn't know how the Hokma Meltdown will go and certainly has no idea how Ayin's... She's not sure a Meltdown is appropriate terminology but something must surely happen to make up that last ten percent. Angela certainly can recognize patterns. Blood is being cleaned up by the Safety Team on the very elevators they will be taking down. Angela swipes a keycard and the doors open up. She gestures for Flamel to head in first. Angela follows after, swipes the keycard again and hits he lowest button on the elevator. "I will not be allowed to follow you in to his office. You can, of course, refuse to go in yourself. You need not be polite about it. But he has barred me from going to see him. I am only allowed to speak to 'X'. I won't speculate on his mental wellbeing before you. You're already quite capable in that regard and I would feel like I was lecturing a master in the field. I'd feel quite silly." The elevator dips down one level to the Middle Layer, then to the Lower Layer. But there's one more to go. "...I am ... sorry for getting mad at you about Queen--about Love. I know you did your best--I suppose you simply seemed ... invincible when it comes to that particular brand of aid, infinitely knowledgeable on the subject matter. That this was the best you could do felt like a betrayal--but I cannot blame you for being unable to do what you are unable to do. Setting high expectations for anyone but myself is a recipe for disappointment." Despite her personality, 'anyone but myself' doesn't seem to be a matter of elevated self-importance so much as an unavoidable duty. The floor hits the bottom layer. "We are here. I can escort you to the door at least."
Angela	The main room leads into a large white room with black lines curling about this way and that along the walls. Angela points up above the elevator, for Flamel's benefit, so that he can see a number of portraits of people on the wall. Some may be recognizable as Sephirah he has seen over the past couple years through their 'Filtered' forms. It starts with Malkuth at the top before underneath her is a purple haired man (Yesod), a much younger looking Hod (you can tell because of the antenna but she's clearly a younger teenager), and a depressed looking green haired man (Netzach). Underneath that is a picture of two actual children. One is a blonde haired girl and there's a brown haired boy. They're decidedly very young, no quite Fae young but clearly children--not even teens. Underneath them are a picture of a dark blue haired man with a suit, cut considerably shorter than Chesed's with Gebura across from him with fewer scars. Underneath them is a blurry picture of a goth woman and across from her is a young man in glasses with grey hair. Angela gives that particular picture a frown before finally underneath them all is... An unassuming black haired man with short hair with assuming golden eyes in a labcoat and a black shirt. Angela's fist tightens. A black line, like a snake or a root, starts with is tail at Malkuth and curves and weaves between each Sephirah before coming to a stop with its head towards the man with the black hair...and the golden eyes. The psionic energy on this level is intense. It's permuting the whole level. Some of it is coming through the locked cell doors--there's Abnormalities on this floor as well--and some of it is just ambient. All that 'Seed of Light' energy is being put to something big. After that small pause, Angela makes her way down the hallway. Something is watching the two of them as they make their through their hallway, an undeniable presence keenly linked to Angela, but not Angela--exactly, though the outline is similar. It is a warm, unjudging gaze. Flamel! A voice emits telepathically. It's coming from nearby. Angela is leading you down the hallway and it's closer. It's closer with every step. Welcome back! Oh! Come say hi to Ayin! The hallway is shifting and modifying itself as they move through out of the main foyer. "This is new." Angela says. "I suspect it has to do with the end of the project." It's not changing in a complicated way, it's just shifting from a bland white hallway into a more comfortable red wall-papered office, or into a more ruined and decrepit hallway. Rarely, there's a flicker of strange beings that aren't actually there--melted constructs, tentacled creatures, bulging masses. But Angela pays no mind to these as she comes to a stop to another office door that is also shifting about from setpiece to setpiece. "He is in here." Angela says.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel beams happily. "Oh, don't worry, I'm definitely not about to let that kind of thing go to my head! In a major phase of change in one's life, it only makes sense to reach out for a little mental health assistance. For oneself, for anyone else -- who knows!" He looks around as he walks, sighing a little. What's he think of it? "A home reflects the people in it, I think. I think this is a place that's under stress. And doing its best to still perform well!" And then a more cheerful posture: "I love the focus on study, though! Very thorough!" Descent. "I'm not gonna make assumptions one way or another. An open mind is a healthy mind! Maybe, he just has a favor he'd like to ask me in private. Or, maybe he'd like to take one last chance to improve the method you'll all be using. You never know." Flamel's always optimistic. Descent... "Getting mad at me is a pretty reasonable thing! Very human of you, I'd say -- it'd be a little bad if you didn't, really. I did the wrong thing for, well, hopefully the right reasons. It's important," He turns to look at her with intense focus. "That awful things, even done with good intentions, even if they're the least evil of the options... that, at the end, accountability still happens. Otherwise, we can never be the people who do good to begin with." Descent. Ding. Flamel's eyes flicker a little behind the sunglasses when his eyes follow the lines, draw over the portraits. He blinks a few times, touching his own cheek for a minute. "Astral flow inversion...?" He mutters softly, curiously. Then he shakes his head. This place is wearing down the barriers between a mind's interior and exterior. More than the Abnormalities do on their own. He returns a bright greeting to the voice! "Not just hi! Maybe I can even help." "I wonder." He mutters. "Maybe he's asking for me specifically because I know how to navigate this. And the way things might be, after." His eyes flicker a little again. Astral shimmers alight at his skin. He nods to Angela. He opens his mouth to say something bright, something friendly, something upbeat and positive and inappropriately optimistic. Something invincibly hopeful. There's nothing. He takes his sunglasses off and gives her a long, silent look before he enters.
Angela	''I'm definitely not about to let that kind of thing go to my head.'' "Once I would've been envious. That your access to my creator is coming so easily whereas he still refuses to acknowledge me. Perhaps it is not really about my being a machine, and simply how he designed me. Typical." Angela says, looking forward. She wonders if she had been more like Flamel if enduring this place would have been much easier. The way he still speaks with an optimistic turn... Flamel's speculation on to Ayin's reasons... It may simply be that Flamel has expertise this world simply doesn't really have just yet. She referred to it as software expertise, but perhaps it would be more accurate to refer to it as a history of development outside of the isolation Lobcorp operates under. ''That awful things, even done with good intentions, even if they're the least evil out of the options... At the end, accountability still happens. Otherwise, we can never be the people who do good to begin with.'' Angela fixes Flamel with a long stare. He has said similarly before, but it is more real when they are standing in an elevator together than over radio where anybody feels like they can say whatever bullshit they want. "That is what is required to be able to do good?" She asks, the longing long buried. "...I'll remember that. Thank you, Flamel." Though she seems to be thanking him for something else he had said before even that.
Angela	Angela has never gotten to this point. When she was down here the first time, when she needed repairs thanks to the experiment with the Velvet Room, the area was considerably more stable and had no Abnormalities locked up. A winged Plague Doctor stares at Flamel through some bars, like it's asking him to accept an embrace. It doesn't feel like a good idea and Angela kept moving forward anyway. ''Maybe he's asking for me specifically because I know how to navigate this.'' "No doubt now that we are as close as we are to the fulfilment of this stupid plan, he is allowing himself to be proactive." Angela says, her expression neutral even hough her words are very much not. ''He opens his mouth to say something bright, something friendly, something upbeat and positive and inappropriately optimistic. Something invincibly hopeful.'' ''There's nothing.'' Angela's immediate thought is that Flamel, though he appears like he's completely oblivious to the ideas of 'there is a time and place' and 'the discretion of what you say in consideration of others' boundaries'... He actually is more perceptive and thoughtful his day to day behavior would suggest. Angela feels an urge to fill that silence with something. It's a long silence. Angela has plenty of time to sit with it. Maybe even an hour or more. In the long process of Flamel removing his sunglasses, Angela's eyes flick--ever so slightly--to focus in on Flamel's eyes. He's helped Petra in some unknown capacity but he has also done ''something'' to Lilian and Persephone that warranted getting thrown real far. Well, since when did she care about ancient history? Flamel opens the door.
Angela	The office wavers again, revealing a... relatively posh if datedly so office.. There's a comfortable looking couch in the far corner, the Lobotomy Corp insignia (a circular brain pierced by a red letter L), charts and graphs plastered to the wall, a couple shelves with books which--on close expression--have gibberish titles and no doubt gibberish content. An older balding bearded man in a pinstriped suit looks up at Flamel as he enters, his gaze avoiding Angela behind the doors as they close behind Flamel. He stands up, steadying himself with a simple cane. He is not real. The man is truly there, but this personality is fabricated--it is not natural. It is a personality designed for a purpose--not so unlike those dragons--and it is simple, albeit with more vocabulary at its disposal. It is overlaid the truer personality (or personalities) buried underneath. "Ah, you must be Flamel. Hello, my name is Abel. We are a bit unstable here as we near the end of our venture, so I was put forward to greet you. I am ... The Final Door, the last chance to reset time for him." The old man says. "Thank you for coming. There is a brief flicker and the room shifts again. It looks like the office is melting. now. A green tinged background, a giant power plug with a brain inside it engulfed by green enkephalin fluid. The lamp has mutated, eyeballs growing in place of bulbs. Abel too has shifted to a grey haired man with golden eyes, stubble, a white labcoat and a black suit and slacks. This is closer to real. More natural. There's photos on the Sephirah behind him, all lobsided. "Should we press on... risk continuing this hell or, worse, failing entirely... or pull the plug?" He asks. "Guess I go by Abram. Sorry for the instability. It's only gonna get worse."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel's last glance at Angela feels different. More worried than he said? More full of intent than the whimsical nature was willing to say? Who knows. Soon, sooner rather than later, it won't matter what was said at a time like this. He steps inside. "Not my place to pick when time gets reset, Mr. Abel! But still, happy to visit. And I hope I can help." He smiles, and the smile stays placid during the flicker and shift. The mutation, the adjustment, it washes past him. No, not exactly -- he seems to get just a little more sad. "Abram. Good to meet you too. No need to apologize for the instability, I know how it is." He approaches the desk, briefly running a finger along its surface, undoubtedly disturbing it in some vast variety of ways. He smiles somberly again. "This is how brain-death looks, to us. When the contents of the mind grow too heavy, and they begin to exit the cranium however they can. I've never seen it outside of a skull. When a person dies like this, their mind moves on. To nothingness, to an afterlife, to whatever it is that comes after the mind. That's, I suppose, what's going on here, huh? All this will die, and it'll release something into what comes next." His eyes flicker again. An astral process is deep in there, catching and failing to ignite fully. His tone shifts. Dreamlike. Untethered in some ways, from preconception and even premise. He lets the logic of the scenario grip his thought. "Maybe none of that's true. I get the idea what this is untethering from truth. 'Hallucination', from the Latin alucinor -- to wander within the stuff of the mind. When the stuff of the mind goes wandering... I guess you'd call this a 'proicination' -- proicere, projection, of errare, the wandering." He taps his chin idly. "This can't be stopped." He says. "A dying dream ends in death one way or another. I think I understand that. Even if you pull the plug, right now, this moment, what dies always moves on. Even a dying dream has meaning. You can only do your best to bring love and kindness to the moment." His posture shifts. "I'd say you should take whatever choice means inviting Angela in here. But I know that's a non-option. So this has to end properly. You're too far to stop now." "And I do want to know what happens next."
Angela	"It may be more your place than you think." Abram says, picking up the conversational thread from Abel. "If we die, the loop resets too. We can't die yet. But we can still reach for a definitive ending, one without resets. Not if we die too soon, though." Abram sighs and slouches. "Man, wouldn't that be the worst... If for all those resets we still ran out of time." He's told he's dying. "Was worried it was that..." ''This can't be stopped. A dying dream ends in death one way or another'' Abram uncomfortably avoids Flamel's gaze. "Maybe we should just let it all die. The world we all will see after will be better than this one, can't imagine it being worse." ''You should take whatever choice means inviting Angela in here.'' "...Every time I look at her, I'm reminded of her power over me. I couldn't resist, not even when she asked me to tear apart her body and stick her into a tube full of enkephalin. We could've saved her. But after Enoch, we all knew it was inevitable. ... But what if it wasn't? Maybe that was our last chance to save our souls. When it's all over, she'll have a choice. She thinks the world out there is worth being free for but this facility is heaven compared to that hell. ... No, but at least it is purgatory." ''You're too far to stop now.'' The room shifts again.
Angela	The room only looks more psychedelic and dreamlike now than before, lending some credence to Flamel's theory. An old fashioned computer tower has a brain as a CPU. Enkephalin-green coated Fleshy growths are growing from ceiling to floor and vice versa. Eyes and neural matter are pulsing out of the walls all around him. Photographs of the Sephirah before they were Sephirah are scattered carelessly about. Ayin is now a man with long white hair--more similar to Angela's, strangely enough, than before. He wears angelic white robes, his bare arm tattooed with strange black markings from fist all the way up to his neck. They're probably all over. He clenches his fist triumphantly, his golden eyes gleam with a kind of madness--or sanity approaching madness. And he's smirking. "Too right, Flamel! We've come too far, so it's about time we give Carmen what she really wants! A world full of a new humanity, a gift of light that shall transform us into a new type of people--one with no boundaries. We'll do what Sapient Heuristics dreams about, prove that it is possible! We'll all become one. This District will just be the beginning... Why stop with EGO? When we can become the EGO itself! We've seen a glimpse with Meika, we merely must untemper our initial scheme!" He clasps Flamel's shoulders with both hands. Flamel can feel them. He is EXCITED and engulfed by zealous fervor. "Yes, we allow our minds to expand...overtake the body. And then the ''dream'' can be forever..."
Flamel Parsons	"I don't know what comes after. You know, for all the times the Psychonauts have visited a dying mind, we've never been able to track its materials once they reach the edge of the skull. Maybe there's nothing. I couldn't tell you. But I know that it's better to go there with something good in your heart." Flamnel mutters, as the room shifts. He looks around, eyes unfocused. Flicker, flicker. He's staring, not at any one thing, but at the mind as a whole. "Nobody could have saved you. Not without... making the world unrecognizable. 'Exclusor' -- one who cannot coexist with the world. I think that's fitting to you more than anyone." Words to Carmen aren't going to go wasted. Not here. Ayin's new form is full of Carmen's zealotry. "I really can see how so many people got caught up in this. I want so, so badly to see what happens next, right?" He says, chuckling good-naturedly alongside the man's energy. "To go further and further and further. To just... finally make 'mind over matter' a reality." His eyes waver, still holding in the light. "It's been on my mind since I saw the Oldest Sister." Waver. "It's been on my mind since I saw Applied Ontology." Glimmer. "It's been on my mind since I saw Sapient Heuristics." Flicker. "It's been on my mind since I learned about Project Mystic." Shudder. "It's been on my mind since the Whispering Rock impact in 1507." Light sputters. "It's been on my mind since I walked upright and used tools." "But it can't happen. By definition of the world. Which is what you want to fight. Destroy, even. Annihilate and recreate. So it comes down to who manages more. But I don't think that will work. Something will. Something has to give. I can tell." The light bursts for a moment out of one eye before astral safeties clamp down. "Something will give. But the world... A lot of it leaked in. A lot of reality contaminated this dream." He looks the man in the eyes and, for a moment, manages to fully suppress the astral phenomena going on in his head. His tone is grave. "I don't think you can imagine these minds un-bound by the influence of chance and material anymore. And I wish you could. But when Carmen died, reality leaked in irreversibly. It's contaminated, just a little bit, forever." Deep breath. The lights in his eyes start fluttering on and off again. He says, "But it's still worth trying. It's not perfect. But it's still worth trying."
Angela	''Nobody could have saved you. ... Exclusor -- one who cannot coexist with the world.'' Ayin doesn't seem to recognize he's speaking to Carmen. Nor does he react when she 'speaks' back to Flamel. I don't think I need to be saved. I'm happy. My dream's going to take its first steps into becoming real. I talk to him and he can't hear me. It's sad, but... Carmen at least seems to be aware that no matter what happens from here on out, it won't be a perfect answer. Adam smiles, though, perhaps in some ways he's the most like Flamel. Not in the way that matters, though. Those aren't the eyes of someone who would ever put himself before an ethics committee. "Yes... perhaps we simply did not keep the ''joy''. We let the pain of growing wear us down, but we can cast off the world, you've seen it, you've SEEN it. We've seen it too. We could hope, thanks to you, seeing that we weren't alone in our mission. It's a shared mission by so many... An ascension we all yearn for..." But... ''But It Can't Happen.'' A lot of the world leaked in. "No, no no no..." Adam says, his smile faltering. "We can destroy the world we can tear the City down to base principals, erase history so there's only new, new, new..."
Angela	The room shifts again. This time it's not a posh office or a melted dream nonsense-scape. It's the room as it actually is and Flamel will quickly notice, that aside from the desk and the many many screens adorning the walls... It's quite like one of many cells within the facility. The door automatically locked itself shut when Flamel went in and it won't open again for the Manager. Only Flamel. But there is something different. There is one more door behind the desk--something that the Manager can't see, but Flamel can sense Carmen behind that door. Her mind has not expanded beyond the body, beyond physicality--not yet. But at a certain point psionic energy has to overtake it, right? That is the seed, that is the tree. The Seed of Light is Carmen. The tree of light they hope to grow is made from her. The Manager has returned to that unassuming man with black hair and golden eyes, a labcoat, and a black shirt and slacks. He's not Ayin, though, he's X. A pill bottle labeled X is there, nearby, and it looks like he's running low on those pills. "..Wooffh..." He says. "I don't have a lot of time. But I... can't let them go through another loop. I know you can't stop it, but can you slow it down? I need to last long enough for Hokma's Meltdown. That could be months..." He is exhausted and sloughs back into his chair, his breathing hard and fast. "Afterwards, I need to face Realization. And once that's done...it doesn't matter what happens to me. But at least they'll all be free, I can stop...punishing my old friends." He is so tired. He looks for Flamel's eyes, barely. "I know...it won't be perfect. But if it's something, even if it's just a little glimmer, a tiny sapling... It'll be proof of concept. And then others can pick up from where we left off. Less of the world leaking in, but with proven principles... I...don't know what else to do, Flamel. I'm fading away into...who I was supposed to be all along. My mind's tearing itself apart because we've rewrote it too many times. Used too much Cogito. But I have to do something ''right''. For me, not for Ayin. I hate him so much, I hate...me so much... But while I'm still X..." He trails off. He figures Flamel's got it.
Flamel Parsons	"There can't be another loop. I do know that." Flamel says, letting his own understanding of the room slowly catch up as he looks around. When he turns back to X, meets his eyes, Flamel's are no longer sputtering and flickering. The astral phenomenon is suppressed, or maybe it wasn't ever there, or maybe it can't have been there to begin wtih. "You're running out of any ability to be the person you need to make this happen. It doesn't matter how time works, the people need to be who they are." He looks over the pill bottle. "And I can tell you need to be who you aren't." He takes a tense breath. Carmen... That tree, even if it's malformed, even if it's contaminated, it's going to form. One way or another. "I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen. Prevent another loop, I mean, and make sure you get through to, you said, a 'Realization'? This type of toxic mentality... it goes in circles, and I know that has to break at certain points." He looks to the door again. He glances to X. "What I did to the Queen of Hatred, the Sigmund Procedure, it could be done to you. To change parts of who you are, spin them out into a new self, total alteration of identity. Death and recreation of the self. To let you fade away and end all this as... someone else, when it's time. Completely." One big inhale. "Lethally." He can't speak much more, after that, except to say, "Just an option." He approaches X, and looks more focused. "I'll make sure there's no repeat. Little while longer, and you're through it, for the last time."
Angela	''You're running out of any ability to be the person you need to be to make htis happen. It doesn't matter how time works.'' Understanding flicks across X's eyes. "You can reset time... But you cannot reset a tale. Hubert was warning me. No, perhaps warning all of us... You can erase memories and change the calender date, but the echo on the mind--the strain--it remains..." X says. "Wait... Hubert...? Who is... that?" He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind, to focus up. "The Meltdowns..." X says. "I know you haven't been that involved in The City, but you must've noticed from the multiversal bands at least. It isn't ''just'' a meltdown. Malkuth faced her mistakes and resolved to stand up straight, Chesed faced his cowardice, Gebura faced her failure, Hod faced her need to be liked and her greatest mistake...They ''changed'' after their Meltdown. They grew to accept themselves, warts and all--that is what I need to do, Flamel. No, that's what ''Ayin'' needs to do." His eyes are fearful. "He never managed it, not even once. Sometimes it started before the other Sephirah and he'd throw himself into a pit or have Angela kill him. But we all must ''Realize'' in order to the Seed of Light to grow. Because that's what EGO is. The Extermination of the Geometrical Organ, the shell we surround ourselves with so we can lie to ourselves about who we ''are''. It's normal to do that, from the greatest sinner, to the most innocent victim." He nods to the photograph of the young Lisa. "The Realization is the break from the toxic pattern. That is why Angela had to torment them because the facility was just part of it--they needed to ''Realize'' who they truly are. That is what it takes to form EGO. You break that shell... and you forge the truth of self into a blade. ... Or a hammer or whatever doesn't matter... The weapon doesn't matter, it's the Realization that matters..." X sags in his chair. "I ... It is kind of you to allow me to die as someone else. But I don't get to exist, Flamel, in the end...the only way this ends is if Ayin ends as Ayin. Warts and all. Realized. He had to help his lost friends the only way he knew how so they could rest in the end, but he wants that rest too. So he set it up like this." ''I'll make sure there's no repeat.'' "Thank you, Flamel... I'm sorry for asking you to add to your burdens but... I know I don't ... 'count' for her. I am just another wall. But even as a wall I..." He doesn't know how to finish tha sentence.
Flamel Parsons	Agent Parsons rubs his face, eyes still dim. No strange astral force. He nods a few times. "Got that impression... that this was going to turn out the way it would. But it was the best I could offer." But he smiles. "Maybe the others can help you, though. Maybe..." He tilts his head. "It doesn't have to be so drastic. Ayin... I think maybe we can help him, too." Flamel digs around in his jacket pocket. "Before I go. Before I head back out, there's something I want you to have. Something I want him to have. Just keep it, just make sure it's there when Ayin is around. And we'll be able to do something important. To help the realization." He looks around a bit. "I suppose this would be almost like a Cobb Technique... Nostalgic!" His bright, friendly tone surges back for a moment. He pulls the object out of his pocket -- a small, flat rectangle, a door to nothing and nowhere. "Keep this on you. When things fade, when it's time for Ayin to try to realize..." He pushes it into X's hand, and insistently closes it around it. "The Psychoportal will let everyone help. Alright? If this is gonna be the last loop, I'll make sure nobody will have to fight through this alone. Even people who do something awful can be helped." He steps back, flicking his sunglasses back out of his jacket pocket and slipping them back over his eyes. "Get the feeling we won't have a lot more time, Manager. In a lot of ways." He says. "I hope you know you'll be remembered." His smile is kind, positive. Supportive. No matter who he meets, no matter what they say, he seems to do his best to bring kindness to things. "However things go, you'll be remembered."
Angela	''I suppose this would be almost like a Cobb Technique...'' "Don't know what that is, but hey... You're the expert." X grins. Htakes the psychoportal door and hides it in his coat pocket. To him, this is about as much as he can rebel against his true self. He just hopes he has enough time to put it in position but, he supposes, it'll be enough if he doesn't let one of the personalities destroy it. They're not exactly out to become ''one'' after all. Well, aside from Abel but Abel is even less real than X is. ''Even people who do something awful can be helped.'' "...That's what all this is about in the end. That's why you're all here instead of lasering The City from space. Maybe it's a fantasy, but even impossible dreams may one day come true with persistence..." He nods his agreement. There won't be much time. Maybe not even for one last loop but if this is the last one then it won't matter how many loops they had left--it'd just be a long lost worry. ''I hope you know you'll be remembered.'')] "Huh?" X is surprised to hear ''that'' for sure. "...You're not a bad guy, Flamel--actually, maybe you're just bad enough to have sympathies for devils. I don't know if I hope that's true or not but maybe... If they do remember this little artificial personality... They'll be able to see him as enough, an echo of a friend who could've been. Rather than a man who couldn't save a single one." When Flamel leaves the office, Angela is standing there. leaning against the wall at the side of her door. It's pretty clear she heard everything, just from the way she looks at Flamel, the troubled expression in her eyes she can't quite obscure. She has cameras in that office too. He won't look at her, but she can take a peek whenever she wants. "In truth, the prison is for him more than the Abnormalities," Angela says, pushing off the wall and walking back towards the elevator. "I never wished to be a warden either," Angela says. "Realization is why I couldn't be kind to them while they were still my friends and mentors." She looks down at her hands. "I think I would've preferred being a camp counselor. I hate The City that made this seem neccessary to anyone. Why not a camp? Why not a space station where everyone is ... incredible?" She presses the button on the elevator to call it back down. "What I learned from this is that the Architecture matters. It is not enough to plant a seed, you need the right place, plenty of sun, a green thumb, and love. But The City crushes those things so that you must hide from the sun, you must kill love in favor of the brutal practicality that earns success. You cannot allow the scales to judge you, the eye to see you, or the claw to rip you to shreads or a seed won't be planted at all. The terrain you have is the terrain your society gives you. Your capabilities can only do so much... And I have seen him die many times." She looks at her reflection on the elevator doors. "I wonder if I will feel something the last time."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons beams when he leaves the office, a wide and kind smile. "I like to hope I am a good guy. The world deserves a lot. Some good you know... that's the least I can give it. And besides, guys like us..." He looks fondly, at X. "Guys like us, guys who aren't real people, we gotta stick together. As much as anyone can." He steps away. Angela gets a nod. "A lot of mental health involves... some more immediate unkindness. But you, I don't think you're to blame for the necessary evil there. You and the manager sure seem to agree on that." He walks with her, heading to the elevator. "If you ask me, you'd have made a great camp counselor. You'd have worked great with Sasha Nein." He smiles happily. "I can see it now. You both, studying strange people and learning to help them in new and strange ways. Sharing marshmallows with Milla Vodello while she tries to help soften you up. Chatting about interesting City history with Coach Oleander." He sighs a little. When the door opens, he sighs heavily. "The terrain you have... yeah. That's the best you can have. In the end, nothing psychic can change the conditions of the world you start with. It seeps in, even if you make your mind so strong it seeps in. Even a guy like me, I'm plenty... affected. Still, just because it's not perfect, doesn't mean you shouldn't try. Doesn't mean you don't have to try..."
Angela	Stepping into the elevator, Angela can't help but smile at the idea of working with Sasha Nein. At this alternate life that was never really possible. In this world, she could have eaten those marshmallows. In this mirror world, she would have been just as stiff as she was in this world, she imagines. She'd become friends with Milla over time and be quite menacing to anyone who was cruel or misguided towards her and Milla would rein her back in because that's the kind of woman she is. She would have liked that. She would have liked getting to know Sasha Nein and all the strange weirdos she can only imagine exist in the world that created Flamel Parsons. And ... History. The City has no history, but perhaps there's still some lizard part of the brain somewhere that still knows the truth of what happened a hundred years ago, two hundred years ago, a thousand years ago. Maybe her world once had a Texas, though to hear Petra refer to it...maybe not everything about the post apocalypse is terrible. "I could've run some small camp library, suggested books to children. Paid something forward." Angela murmurs. It's not as if such a dream is entirely out of sight. One day she'll walk out these doors and she can work where she wants. It would be nice to be close to Psychonautra. She worries about Psychonautra. She's still not sure it was a good idea to take any small piece of Petra and put her in a place she could not reach. It's the world that has harmed her creators, her parents, Carmen even, everyone in this facility. And for a moment, Angela remembers she kind of sympathizes with Zephiel. But ''something'' must have happened to make Flamel's world kinder than the others. It can't all just be about flying out to space and leaving it all behind. It can't just be about the world getting a little worse every day, it just can't. It can't! "To be honest, you don't seem affected at all." Angela says. "...At least, that is how I would have thought before today." Perhaps that moment of saying nothing will mean a little more than Flamel expected. She never cared about trying, she never thought she had to try. But maybe that is because she is not born yet. Ah. That reminds her. ''But you, I don't think you're to blame for the necessary evil there.'' "...But I am afraid that one of the smartest men I know told me that awful things, even done with good intentions, even if they are the least evil of the options... requires accountability." Angela says. The honest smile is long gone. Reality is never far away even while dreaming. "And I still have awful things left to do. One day, after I've been born, after I've lived--I'll turn myself in to your ethics committee. If you still feel that I am not to blame then, all I ask is you do what you can to ensure I am not locked away again." Other than that, she seems fine with any punishment. And the doors open back to the first floor. Flamel is free to depart as he likes. "Take care of yourself, Flamel." Angela says, because she is an AI that can tell the truth. "I would hate for anything terrible to happen to you."