raianet | text ↪ un: weaverville

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text ↪ un: weaverville

Hey so

I've been screwing around with the network connecting the communications devices a little. I know there's no Spotify here, no internet, not a lot of music, which sucks. My MP3 player came here with me, so I figured maybe some people might like to have at least a few options. It might not necessarily be to everyone's taste, but it's better than nothing (probably).

I've uploaded the contents to the database, you should be able to access it or send/receive songs at any time.

Turns out they already had some music on there too, so you can poke around theirs and see if you find something you like more. I haven't gotten to go through it all, but at least some of it looks like 21st century Earth stuff.

Sidenote: you're welcome to criticize the contents of my MP3 player, just know that I've never felt shame in my life & I can and will sing all of these karaoke style to your face. IDK if you really want to live through that experience.

( feel free to threadjack as you like )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( 8 ) )

I'm over in the engineering workshop like 70% of the day, you can swing by whenever. If I'm not there I'm in the theater helping build the bunker.

Okay, cool. I'll come find you in an hour or so.

[He needs to... Actually turn the thing on in the first place and make sure it works, which he's kind of been putting off and should've done before making this offer in the first place, but whatever.

And as promised, after verifying that the device does turn on--he's a little concerned about the magic batteries, but for now it's fine--and checking that the music is still there, he purposefully doesn't look at anything else and goes to find Ian.]

( Ian, as it turns out, is working on sketching up the schematics for the twenty fucking foot tall gundam outside. He's technically taking a break, in that it's a break from the work the engineering corps actually wants him to do. In all reality, Ian doesn't take breaks most of the time.

He can take a break on his break for this, though, and happily put down his pencil once Lance rolls in.

Sup nod. )

Hey, man.

[He nods his head and offers a small smile in greeting, though skips over the pleasantries to ask--]

What are you working on?

( He blows out a slow breath, shoots a glance over at his workstation. A dismembered railway rifle sits beside a pile of ammo, which in turn sits beside a pile of scrap, cluttering every square inch of space save what his drafting papers need to occupy. )

Well... I found out I can produce more guns if I break one down to raw components and duplicate those and then reassemble, so I'm... making guns and ammo, working on a few things for the emergency bunker beneath the theater, and then... I don't know if you saw that giant fucking robot outside?

( He sounds amused as hell over it, vaguely points his thumb over his shoulder in its general direction. )

But the guy that pilots it doesn't exactly have a giant fucking robot mechanic, so I'm trying to map out how it works in case it... stops working. It connects to the guy's head through a neural implant, so there's... probably nobody better qualified to do it right now.

( And obviously, now music stuff. That one is essential to help him stay upbeat through the aforementioned list. )

[He... Did not actually see the giant robot, so this is news to him, and also goes on his list of things to check out. But as for the rest of it, that all sounds very useful and practical, though he's of course a little concerned about Ian overdoing it.

For now, though, things seem okay, hopefully. So although he doesn't hide that he's a little dubious about this, he also doesn't bring it up, and instead pulls his phone from his pocket.]

This is what we had in Hadriel. The battery seems to run on magic, and probably the networking too, but other than that I don't know how it works except that it does normal phone stuff.

( Can't pretend like he isn't curious as hell about a tech-based device that's apparently magical, so he'll just go ahead and gently divest Lance of his phone to give it a quick look.

Flips it over. Thumbs the back open. Scopes the battery. Presses down to disengage the...

The look he shoots up is faintly skeptical. )

Was the magic battery... maybe just fancy wireless charging? This thing has a sim card. It seems like your run-of-the-mill AT&T store thing.

[Lance watches in a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, and has to quickly make himself stop chewing on his lower lip when Ian looks up. The question earns a small tilt of his head and he furrows his eyebrows, and he offers a mostly useless response.]

I have no idea. I mean, they were god--or emotion-sucking alien, but whatever--given magic phones, I'm not super sure how they worked. I do know the network was specifically maintained by one of the gods, though I think it was the same one who provided the electricity, so...

[So really, who's to say? And, to be real technical, even if it was wireless charging, if the god's providing the electricity through magic then it's still magic. Sort of. Whatever. He honestly doesn't care as long as they can make the thing work.]

Edited 2021-06-08 01:29 (UTC)

( His nod is... slow, but it's a nod. Alright, then. Not gonna chase the semantics there, he's got too much work to do to get into a philosophical debate about advanced beings and magic just being science they don't understand yet and which came first, the chicken or the egg — definitely the egg, thank you reptiles — totally not the point.

He jerks his head toward his workstation like come here, and wheels his way back over toward the clutter. On his desk is a clunky-looking battery attached to wire, which is in turn attached to Ian's MP3 player. It's repurposed and reshaped with a little glowing chest bullshit; he strips off his smartwatch, attaches it and Lance's phone with the cable, and then does some other cool stuff because that's how science works don't @ me. )

So... I'm pretty sure I can charge it. I can definitely transfer the contents onto your watch, or upload them if you want stuff stored on the servers. It seems like just a normal memory card. But... I don't think I can directly hook it up to the same network they're using here. I can't get my neural implant to connect either.

[Lance can work a phone, but he's better with computers and even that particular skill isn't anything outstanding, so he has no idea what Ian's doing. He'll just let him handle all the tech stuff.

He nods in understanding as Ian explains, but then shifts slightly from foot to foot as he tries to decide what exactly to do or, more accurately, how to explain what he wants to do.]

Okay, charging it is cool, and transferring the music is fine too, but... I think it's best to leave everything else as it is. It's mostly personal stuff and we don't really know how private the communication devices are.

[That sounds reasonable and not paranoid, right? Sure.]

( His lips quirk up a little, something exaggerated and fake-knowing taking over his expression. )

Don't upload your nudes to the public servers. Got it.

( He'll steer plenty clear of Lance's photos while he flips around looking for the music app, then bleep bloops around on his watch face to start the upload. )

These things are... like, fucking lightspeed, so it should only take a couple minutes.

Edited 2021-06-08 02:03 (UTC)

[That's so far from the real concern he has that it catches him totally off guard, and the surprise combined with his tension and how ridiculous the remark is means he can't help but laugh a little.]

Sure, yeah, we'll go with that.

[But great, a few minutes isn't bad; that's enough time for a little conversation.]

So, you seem to have settled in.

Um, yeah.

( He breathes, glancing around like he's only just realized that statement for himself now that it's been pointed out.

Turns out if you just start working, that kind of happens. )

What about you? Find a regular hammock? Pick out your next half-dozen psychoanalysis victims yet?

Don't even talk to me about the hammocks.

[In other words, no, he hasn't found a regular hammock and in fact has been doing very little sleeping anywhere near them. This whole communal thing is killing him already.]

As for psychoanalysis victims, no, I've been kind of... Anti-social, I guess. I've just been working at the aid station a lot.

( And here it finally is, the concern Ian should have had days and days ago only just now kicking in. A good chunk of the humor fades out, back to baseline — which would be pretty difficult to parse for anyone else, but Lance can probably see through it by now for what it really is. )

Burnt out? Or just having a rocky time with the adjustment?

[He can definitely feel that sudden shift, and although he's purposefully been choosing not to be as evasive as he normally is, he also didn't want to particularly worry Ian either. It also doesn't help that he doesn't exactly know how to describe how he's feeling--or rather, he does, but it's complicated and a lot to go into--and so after a moment he just offers a small shrug.]

Both, I guess. I just...

[He hesitates, again trying to decide how honest to be, before finally offering something that's only a fraction of the problem but is truthful.]

I'm just really tired of doing this over and over again.

['This' being the adjustment period in which it's a scramble to figure out the situation and how best to approach and handle it, but also 'this' in the sense of all of it. This is the third time, and he's starting to believe the cycle might wind up being endless.]

( He presses his lips together into something tight and sympathetic. Have some rare, real empathy: )

Yeah, man. I get that.

( They're not exactly lined up. Ian's only been to two, he thinks this is Lance's third, but... in a way, transitioning into the apocalypse was a lot like transitioning into a new world altogether. Different rules, different people, different communication methods. Insanity, chaos, fear, relocation. That one was harder than New Amsterdam by a mile. This one is shaping up to be harder too, though thankfully not as bad as the first six months after contact. )

Probably a lot harder to let yourself get attached now, huh?

( That one's more a guess than a direct understanding. New Amsterdam was his first time getting attached in going on two decades, almost. Basically half the people he was attached to came with him.

Then again, the job... the apartment... his life...

Still, he's only had to give it all up once so far. )

[Attachment isn't exactly the issue, but it isn't not an issue either, just a lesser one; still, Ian isn't wrong, but it also says something about Ian's own struggle that that's what he's guessing. It's something Lance makes note of for future reference, but for now only agrees with with a small nod and a hint of a shrug as he crosses his arms.

His gaze is on the phones now, instead of Ian.]

Yeah, that sucks, but it's more like...

[He hesitates, suddenly unsure that he actually wants to be this open, and changes course.]

It's fine. The first week or so is just particularly difficult.

Edited (everything sucks goddamnit) 2021-06-08 03:06 (UTC)

( Attachment isn't necessarily at the very top of Ian's list of issues - though it's not too far down. It just seemed like one of the easiest, most obvious conclusions to draw to get Lance talking.

Swing and a miss, apparently.

Ian levels him with a patient but pointed look. )

Come on, man. You really gonna do me like that?

( Start and then reel back to make a hard left?

Like he wouldn't be a complete hypocrite and do exactly the same thing. )

Edited (This is why I don't mobile tag ) 2021-06-08 03:24 (UTC)

[He's not even a little surprised at being called out, but instead what he feels in response is a mix of annoyance at not being able to just get away with it and appreciation that Ian cares. Again, the struggle of having friends.

He could continue to deflect, or even turn it around back on Ian, and both are really tempting options. But instead he firmly tells himself that isn't the way to handle it, and there's silence for several seconds before he does finally respond.]

It just takes a lot, and I don't have it right now.

[Energy, motivation, willpower, whatever. He doesn't have enough of any of it for this adjustment period not to feel like an insurmountable obstacle, and so for the most part he's just been sort of on autopilot at a suitable mental distance.]

( The struggle of having friends indeed. For what it's worth, he appreciates the honesty. He's been a little siloed within himself, a little disconnected. It doesn't help that they don't really get any free time, most of what he spends with Nate is around bedtime. There's him, there's Lance, and that's it. Not enough time to build any new connections, and not enough drive to bother, because... Well, see: attachment issues.

This weirdly helps. Maybe reinforces the fact that he's not actually alone. )

Is there anything I can do to help? Hugs, drugs, twenty foot sex robot? Blatantly manipulate you into actually talking about it even though you don't want to because we both know it would help, and you're way too good at this for me to bother actually trying to be subtle?

[That last comment earns another weak but genuine laugh, and although he doesn't uncross his arms, they do loosen a little and he manages to drag his gaze back to Ian instead of the phones.]

You'd talked about working on a fix for the sleeping situation, so if that's still on your list of projects...

[He's too introverted for this 'around people 24/7' thing to work, and honestly if he got a little more sleep he'd probably be handling all of this a lot better.

But more seriously--]

I probably should talk about it, but there's no single 'it'. There's just a whole list of things and they're all tangled together and neither of us has all day for my emotional problems, so that'll have to wait.

[It's honest, even if it's also an evasion. At least he's not denying there's issues anymore, so that's something. Sort of.]

( He sighs unhappily, glancing back at his desk like it has something to contribute to the conversation. )

I'm... I started drawing up floor plans. I planned to- I'm going to make us a place that's private. It's just that somebody else spotted them and got really... Tense about prioritizing ourselves over the bunker situation. I have to finish that first, I think, because it'll make us all look better to the locals. As soon as that's done, I should be able to finish up phase one for move-in. Maybe... Two months?

( Which is way too long to his introverted brain too, but... It is what it is. They need to be accepted into the community here. )

But that means pretty much all I can do is strong-arm you into starting on your list, so... When's the next time you're free to get a drink?

[That news is... Kind of painful, honestly, but it's what the situation calls for, and he's not about to argue with what Ian's decided is the best way to handle it especially since it's a big favor anyway. So he just nods, as though this is some sort of mundane information about the weather, though in addition to his actual dismay at the situation he's also a little concerned by what the locals might be expecting of the new arrivals. That's going to be an issue to keep aware of.

Just one more thing for the list, and he lets himself sigh at the question, not so sure he's actually ready to agree to this, but--]

Whenever. I'm mostly making my own schedule with helping out the medics, so it's more about when you have opportunity to dig yourself out from under your projects.

( Lance does a great job selling that acceptance as not being particularity terrible. Even so, Ian knows how he feels about it himself. He also knows that all three of them have a few key traits in common, and sleeping surrounded by people is bound to be fucking all of them over slowly but surely. It's draining. He has a few short term ideas he'll pitch later.

The display on his watch goes dark, indicating that the transfer is done. He detaches both devices, and turns to offer Lance his phone back. )

I think I should be done for the night in... Like two hours? Give or take? If you're good for that. I can meet you at the...

( Vague gesture, finger snap, fuck, his brain is so fried he can't even remember the word.

Whatever, Lance gets his meaning, he's sure. )

Edited 2021-06-08 04:29 (UTC)

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