OPEN SEASON.

[crawly]

1. pick a character.

☛ optional.
☛ character list here.
☛ full list.
☛ specify in the subject line if you want one character in particular.

2. provide a prompt.

☛ image, words, music, whatever you want.
☛ i like to think at least one of my three tumblrs has something interesting. (be warned that all three blogs contain nsfw material, including porn.)

3. gotta go fast.

☛ not actually. this is a permanently open post! tag at your own speed.

Comments

☇ hermann

[une]

[Years pass and youth departs but time spent in halls of learning always lingers. The foliage of autumn finds itself crushed beneath Une's boots as she fords a trail. Leaves of yellow and brown and red end up bruised and crumpled to muck, consigned to mud by a stream of passers-by. Une wraps her green plaid pea coat tightly around herself, buttoning up as she speeds the pace of her steps. The chill in the air brings the taste of stale coffee to the back of her tongue, reminding her of late nights spent pondering the mysteries of the universe. Stars speak in numbers, diverging their secrets to the precious few who are willing and able to comprehend their language.

She counts the steps leading up to the research lab. Still eighteen. Like I once was. At six in the evening, she's certain he'll still be cooped up in his lair. Early suppers never suited him. How long has it been since they last saw each other in person? Though they maintained an e-mail correspondence, it's been five years since they last met face to face. Graduation had been bittersweet.

As was her custom way back in the day, she steps into the lab without announcing herself, wiping her boots off on the welcome mat by the door. She hears him before she lays eyes on him, catching the sound of a cane scraping against linoleum flooring. Tucking a tendril of her long brown hair behind her ear, she offers a wry smile.]

It's good to see you again, Professor.

[complaints]

[ the front part of the lab is more of an office, desks covered with neat piles of manuscripts, written on in red pen. one of the swivel chairs is unoccupied. gottlieb is sitting in the other one. ]

Une.

[ it's a bit of a surprise to see her all of a sudden, but he stands up to extend a hand. ]

This is a pleasant surprise.

[une]

[As proper as ever. She takes his hand and gives it a firm shake, opting not to linger once the formality's been dealt with. He has a warm hand and a dry palm. There's no nervousness to be had here.]

Not a label you ascribe to most things, I assume. Discoveries and disaster go hand in hand when it comes to surprises in your field.

[complaints]

Unfortunately true.

[ he huffs, letting out a heavy breath before he glances back around the lab, as if realizing the time. it's later than he thought it was. but down to business. he turns and faces her directly, hands clasped in front of him. ]

Are you here for help on your research? I would have prepared, if you had a request of any kind.

[une]

[The lab has a certain dreary quality to it; all white walls and fluorescent light wrapped up in the cloying scent of sterility. Somehow, he flourishes in the dreariness of it all. There are some flowers that bloom their best in an open field alongside others of their own sort but there are others far too fragile for the elements. Those rare specimens are best kept in terrariums and handled with utmost care lest they be lost to the world. In this lab, he's housed himself in a terrarium of his own making, paling under artificial stimuli but living in his own way.]

I just thought it'd be nice to visit. Maybe go out for dinner? You look like you could use a break.

[complaints]

[ gottlieb sighs lightly, looking around at the work he's been doing. there's a lot of it, and a lot still to be done. ]

...ah, well. While I appreciate the offer, I... I'm afraid I don't have the time.

[ he exhales again. there's so much to fight for, and to fight against. ] But. If I could still convince you to stay, I'd like to hear your input on some new concepts.

[une]

Afraid? A poor choice of words. You've always been daring where it counts.

[Research, of course. Daring in nothing but scholarly pursuit.

Relenting to his request, she shrugs out of her coat, turning to hang it up on the rack by the door. Her shoulders are bared by the sleeveless black sheath dress she wears underneath. There's nothing provocative about the garment on its own though she wears it like a second skin and walks with a certain swagger as she pulls up a chair. It may pass for run-of-the-mill business wear up top but it's cut a bit short above the knee. She's always liked highlighting her assets.

Back when she served as a research assistant, she would have asked first before plopping down for a seat but the years have made her bolder. She settles into the chair, crossing her legs and arching a brow up at him.]

What might you deign to seek my counsel on?

[complaints]

[ ... ] There's no other way to be, where it counts.

[ while she sits, he turns and walks over to one of the lab benches a few feet away to pick up another sheaf of papers and a large sheet of blueprints. the latter flutters wildly as he walks back, in too much of a hurry to bother folding it neatly. ]

Another program. [ he sets the blueprints aside for now, and hands her the packet of notes. ] The input rate is so high that the processor — the pilot — can't contain, much less use the interface. To lessen the load, it'll have to be reduced by at least 35%.

But condensing the stream any further is impossible.

[ as soon as the numbers come into the picture, his energy spikes. ]

[une]

[When he discusses his research, his eyes come alive with a spark rivaling the stars he studies with such fondness. The man has a mind fit for the Renaissance, dabbling in a plethora of sciences to conceive innovations beyond most people's imaginings. Watching him present his work is enough to cause her heart to stir, awakening the once burgeoning affection she held for him so long ago.

It would have been inappropriate to admit such a thing. It's still inappropriate.

There's a reason she'd limited her correspondence with him to e-mail messages and occasional social media comments. It hurts. It still hurts. Science is a demanding lover with which she can never hope to compete.

As his eyes light up, hers deaden though she forces a smile while looking through his data. Turning through page after page, she can't help but marvel at all the detail he puts into his work. It's like looking at the brushstrokes on a masterpiece up close.]

Have you considered multiple processors?

[Therein lies his one fault. He believes in conserving resources and working alone. It's all well and good in some cases but there are times when one must be open to collaboration and extra expense. One can't be frugal with everything.

The world doesn't work like you do, Professor.]

[complaints]

[ multiple processors... that would double the amount of equipment needed, but that wouldn't make much of a difference in the long run if it actually worked. it's the risk that worries him.

it's a good suggestion. he runs through preliminary calculations mentally, and it doesn't seem like too far of a stretch. but it also brings up another problem: ] The work of linking even two minds would take a processor of its own, or a capacitor. How heavy would the load be?

[ he likes things to be efficient. work that goes into paring down the process will be paid off by the process over time. ]

btw may i add you on plurk? :>

[une]

[The question he poses is one that would take hours of research, calculation, and pondering. She can't even begin to offer an answer without more material to work with. At the very least, a prototype would be a necessity.]

Something to ponder over dinner, perhaps?

[Best to try for a change of scenery. Inspiration and mental stimulation comes in all sorts of unexpected forms. The DNA helix model came to James Watson in a dream and menial work did much to aid Einstein in his discoveries. Gottlieb confines himself to calm and quiet, shunning the frenetic pulse of society and staying cooped up in the lab. To truly impact the world, one must live in it.

But first, dinner.]

A little fresh air might do you good. Can you even recall the last time you ate? You can't exactly think clearly if you're fatigued.