November Mingle

[etrayamods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHEN: November 22nd - Early December
WHERE: Etraya
WHAT: The arrival of newcomers, and an unexpected guest!
NOTES\WARNINGS: N/A, please note any needed warnings in threads.

⏵ arrival ⏴ Welcome to Etraya! Arrival goes as expected - or it would, except it is not just Aurora that greets the newcomers as they arrive. Certainly they receive their earpiece so they can communicate with one another as those before them have, however there is what seems to be a woman waiting for them that is of a more flesh and blood persuasion as they leave the hospital. She carries an air about her that isn't quite like the newcomers themselves, but she is decidedly not one of the companion bots, nor Aurora. She has bone-straight blonde hair reaching past her shoulders, with a straight-cut fringe hanging above her eyes. The black dress that ends just before her mid-thighs also has a rather revealing neckline, though the sleeves which cover her arms almost feel like a mockery of modesty considering the rest. She is also wearing black stockings and black pumps, and the red of her lipstick is striking against the extreme contrast in shades she otherwise holds. As each newcomer independently files out of the hospital, she makes certain to garner their individual attention, either with a wave of her hand, a wiggle of her fingers, or directly calling them over. She is persistent, and with being so new, it is wise to heed her. Not that anyone can force one to, if they choose to walk away, nor does she seem interested in trying to, but she has her means for those proving stubborn. However, those who aren't... “Hey! I know you’re not just walking past me. I’ve got- you know, plot relevant, written all over me. I picked this dress out just for you, you know?’ “C’mere, listen up. Mama’s got a little bit of homework for you, but it’s gonna help you, too, okay? I need you to go find the hot goss, the piping hot tea on the street for me. Find out what everyone’s saying about the people we’re stuck with, okay? People are a lot more relaxed and honest when they talk about others, right? This is about efficiency. Efficiency, honey. Don’t worry, I’ll be in the trenches, too. But make sure you come find me again. I’ll be around here, okay? I know you’re as confused as I am. Well no. I’m much less confused than you are. But if you can tell me about the people here, I’ll tell you more about where you are and what this is about.” For those who ignored her, or those not newly arrived, they will receive a message through their earpiece: “Girl. Hey. Listen. I’m kind of in a pinch, okay? I need like… a little favor. But its a fun favor! I need you to get your girl some info. I need the word on the street, honey. I need the tea piping hot- I need you to go talk to your friends, enemies, frenemies, butt buddies, cousins, and have them tell you about anyone they know. I need straight facts and good gossip on everyone here. And then get back to me. Kisses. And this isn’t something for nothing. If you bring me some good goss, you’ll get some good info in turn about your whole situation. Cause that’s what you’re missing most besides home, right? Context.” ⏵ spill the tea ⏴ Tatianna having now tasked everyone (new and old) with finding out more about their fellow inhabitants—if not for their sake, for her curiosity—and in exchange she will give them valuable information that may aid them with acclimating here, or something far more valuable depending on how hot the goss is! However, she will not just hand out her secrets so easily, and so she will need one piece of gossip about each inhabitant. So she expects everyone to get mingling and talking, she isn't a charity here! To assist in this, the companion bots have set up cozy little wicker daybeds around the main hub of the city. All of which are suspiciously cozy and warm once you have sat down on them, but especially so with the accompanying aroma of the tea wafting from the kettle which rests on the center table, accompanied by sweetmeats. The tea itself also stays warm despite the cool autumn air, and so long as you stay within the daybeds, the biting chill won't reach you either. However, the tea is not only perpetually the right temperature, but it seems to have a way of loosening one's tongue. Especially the more one imbibes it. Did you mean to share that secret that might not have been yours to begin with? Or that personal detail about your best friend that wasn't meant to be known by anyone but who they themselves have told? Probably not, but the cat is out of the bag now, isn't it? Well, hopefully word won't get around...after all, it isn't likely who you are talking is going to tell everyone else, right? Right? Adding to the oddity of it all, the tea one drinks might not be the same tea that their companion is drinking, despite it pouring from the same kettle. What might be one person's earl grey, is another's pumpkin spice chai. Whatever it may be that pours out, it certainly seems to be to one's liking, or its closest approximation. There's probably some deeper meaning in that, some sort of symbolism one might surmise from the nature of sharing gossip and it being tainted by personal bias, but who cares about navel gazing about such a thing? After all, this is meant to be an enjoyable endeavor! Getting to know your fellow inhabitant should feel as comfortable as catching up with an old friend. What better way than to do it by sharing tea you both will enjoy? ☕ ⏵ close knit ⏴ As the tail end of November draws nearer, people will have already begun to see the first flakes of snow. It grows colder, and while there isn't quite a blizzard or a snow storm happening, the snow does not seem to let up with its descent. It doesn't quite get so cold that it is untenable, of course, but it would be advisable to bundle up! In fact, the companion bots seem to be on the case with assisting in just that! Around the city people will find groups of companion bots busily knitting sweaters, scarves, gloves, hats, and so forth. In fact, the moment they see someone they clock as not quite bundled enough, they will insist on supplying them with whatever they deem as being without. Are you already wearing a scarf? Well, clearly you need two of them! How about the gloves? Couldn't hurt to have several pairs! However, that isn't all that's available to people, after all there are cafes out and about where one might get a hot beverage to help fight off the cold, but for those less inclined for such establishments, the companion bots are here to serve! There is at least one companion bot per knitting group that seems to have hot cocoa on hand. If they see someone who is looking particularly cold (almost everyone is, the companion bots aren't particularly keen on the signs of successful temperature regulation), they will have a paper cup of hot cocoa imposed upon them that has their name on the side. Or, sort of. It is at least a close approximation of their name, or maybe it is an alternate spelling? Really, who can blame the bots for getting confused, there are so many of you! ⏵ snow more games ⏴ The snow is here to stay, but that doesn't mean that it has to be a bad thing! With everyone well supplied in their winter garb, the companion bots have set up spots for fun activities! Perhaps the inhabitants would enjoy a fun snowball fight, or some sledding? Some of the waters have frozen over, so ice skating is always a possibility too. Though one might want to be careful if they are to venture past what the companion bots have marked as safe. Some of the companion bots are trying their best at making a snowman, but all their efforts seem to come out rather...square. They're trying their best, but maybe they can learn by following the inhabitant's examples. There are others that will offer gold star stickers to those who seem to dominate in the snowball fights, but unfortunately the stickers don't stick too well with all the snow. Well, they tried! People will still find bots out and about with nice warm beverages available to fight off the cold, too. That service will continue to be available for the foreseeable future. Similarly, if someone comes out who is a little too under-dressed for the weather, the bots might have to pick up those knitting needles again, so be sure to put on your winter clothes..! ⏵ NOTES ⏴ To report information to Tatianna, do so here! She will only give each person their rewarded information once she has a bit of information on each character in the game. Each bit of gossip does not require a thread to count though it should be IC knowledge gained through IC means. Try to check what gossip has been given to her already, because doubling up will not yield results! Good luck! For all questions relating to this log, please refer to the mod queries comment. All other questions can be directed to the FAQ. ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

[messenger]

[ he's trying not to shake his head, shoulders and neck stiff against the compulsion, but the call to honesty presses him to speak his thoughts. yes, he understands now exactly what harold was getting at. he hadn't realized, all this time, what he was doing. what he was saying. he supposes it doesn't matter. these aren't lies coming out of his mouth, and though his eyes soften at what harold has to say in answer, he can't help what he says next.

castiel closes his eyes and angles his face toward the table. ]

Of course I'm a poor angel. I'm petty and bitter and short-tempered and cruel. And I'm a coward. I almost— [ he inhales. ] I was going to let it happen. I had to be convinced to help.

[ he spreads his hands, as though to say, see? finally raising his eyes again. isn't that the worst of all? that he should have known better and had to be told. ]

I don't just hold the other angels to the same standard. I see myself in them.

[ the quote may be lost on him, but its meaning isn't. ]

[ornithologist]

[ Harold can't help but laugh a little, hollowly, a short and bitter sound. He glances down at his tea and considers taking another sip, go all in, but he stops himself. He still has self-control in behavior, just not in word, it seems. ]

If that's all it takes to write someone off, then we're all doomed, [ he quips. ] Everything you've said is something I could say about myself.

[ The words keep coming but now they appear pained, Harold actively fighting to prevent it, hating that he's mentioning this-- ]

I lost my oldest and closest friend because he couldn't convince me to help.

[ Mentioning Nathan's death hurts. It hurts profoundly, a wound only a few years old and only barely healed. It was his fault he died, and he watched it happen. Harold closes his eyes for a moment and takes a steadying breath, forcing himself to recover. It's not so bad a confession, it doesn't say anything material about him, but--

It feels like it says everything. ]

Knowing what is wrong is not a small thing, Castiel.

[messenger]

I'm sorry.

[ about harold's friend. and that he can say these things about himself. harold holds his own power, with which comes responsibility, but castiel doesn't really understand it. his ignorance about modern technology is a blind spot, and his pride won't let him fill it in.

but regardless, he can understand the feeling. regret. ]

You're right. It's not.

Free-will is about making choices. And I chose.

[ castiel's fingers curl helplessly against the smooth tabletop. he's forgotten the tea. he keeps thinking that he should stop talking, but the words keep coming anyway. ]

But I... I wanna go home. And I don't wanna have to kill my brothers anymore. How can I be a good person, when this is the choice I have to make? How can I... How can I be a good person when I wish I hadn't done it?

[ he's struck by what he admits: the peal of shock obvious as it twitches across his features. a careful blankness is pulled over it in its place. he sits very still. ]

[ornithologist]

[ He doesn't want power or responsibility -- that was the point of his whole arrangement with Nathan, where Nathan got the accolades and the attention, and Harold got to hide at his desk and write code. It was the point of the Machine, of creating something he trusts more than a person and giving it away, cutting off his own access. Harold wants to empower others to do good and then go home to his loved ones.

These days he's happy if he accomplishes any amount of the former, because his own choices have rendered the latter impossible.

Hearing Castiel say he doesn't want to have to kill his brothers anymore twists his heart, and his expression crumples into horrified empathy. All of Harold's typical reserve evaporates in the face of that grief and rapid blankness. ]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[ It's what he wants to say so it comes out, unvarnished. He can't make this choice simpler for him, couldn't even if he knew the whole story. Harold doesn't expect there is a way to make a choice like that simple. There's no right answer and sometimes there's barely a way forward. Sometimes the only path you can see is one where you're crawling, where you prevent war by killing family, a scenario Harold cannot even begin to fathom.

His words aren't under his control but his actions are, he reminds himself, and he stretches a hand out across the table to Castiel in silent request to take it. ]

Let's not say anything further. Indulge my silly human instincts and just hold my hand, please.

[ Perhaps they can just sit and be present until it wears off -- and being present, really, is the only kindness Harold knows how to offer here. He doesn't want to risk either of them saying anything further that they don't mean to, but he won't leave him alone after a confession like that. ]

[messenger]

[ it's strange to have his own emotions mirrored back at him on someone else's face. empathy. it's such a simple thing, but something that angels aren't given to. sorrow is a black mark to be erased, and guilt is unnecessary when every action is guided by the hand of god. all feeling only leads to doubt. and he doubts, and he doubts, and he doubts. he doubts he'll ever find an answer. he doubts he'll ever go home. he doubts there's a place for him here, even as dean opens his home to him.

it's an instinct, or maybe a premonition. the other two castiels who were here also lived in the bunker, but dean let them choose their rooms too. because he didn't have a room; he doesn't have a room back home, does he? he wasn't staying with them. so where was he? does dean have some reason for never inviting him or did he never take the invitation?

he doesn't want to know, now.

without protest, he reaches across and takes harold's hand. his own hand is dry and his fingertips a little cold. he doesn't understand how this is meant to help but it doesn't matter, because he trusts harold to know what will help him. if he had paid closer attention to what was happening he might have known better, to warn him from partaking. that is to say, this is at least party his fault.

never mind that this isn't the first food that has affected him. it was the first thing that happened when he came to etraya. he should have known better.

he doesn't speak. after a few moments, he meets harold's eyes and then looks away again, ashamed. ]

[ornithologist]

[ His own thoughts are spinning off in myriad different directions, but nowhere close to Castiel's. He doesn't blame him -- he'd made his own choices -- and however personally uncomfortable over-sharing is, it's not truly dangerous, not if it's just the two of them. He has some baseline trust in Castiel based on their conversations thus far that he doesn't think he'll come to regret. And Harold has no reservations about holding hands in public, even with another adult man; he might struggle with socializing but he absolutely values connection. If Castiel can now taste things then presumably he can have his mammalian neurobiology soothed by contact with another.

It works for Harold as well, of course. His lurching distressed thoughts about horrible choices start to quiet by the time he catches Castiel's shamed look, and then kick into gear in an entirely different direction. He casts about for a topic he could talk about at length without anything personal interfering.

(Unfortunately, it can't be birds. There's no way he can discuss birds without mentioning his father--) ]

Skin to skin contact for humans causes a subtle physiological response. It facilitates activation of the parasympathetic nervous system, something like the opposite of adrenaline. It cues slower heart rate and breathing.

Primates are a very social species. Indication that you aren't alone means access to resources, protection, stability.

[ Is Harold talking about evolutionary theory to an angel? Absolutely. He hopes it's distracting, at least. ]

[messenger]

[ castiel nods in response to what harold is saying. he understands all this, yes, but there are details he has missed, or not appreciated in the past, owing to not being in possession of mammalian neurobiology at the time. a warm hand in his own should mean nothing but it doesn't. still blank-faced, he considers harold's hand in his own, and the halloween night he laid in bed with dean, when dean had been cursed to freeze to death from the inside out. castiel had, embarrassingly, fallen asleep with his arms around his body. castiel's slowed heart rate and breathing had cued his sympathetic nervous system to trigger the sleep process, and as a result he had drooled saliva in a large dark patch on dean's t-shirt.

it was embarrassing. but it's still something he thinks about, from time to time.

he only realizes now, with harold's hand in his, that he might have been wishing for more of that experience. not a repeat of the same situation, obviously. he doesn't want anyone cursed. but a reason, an excuse to touch him.

castiel swallows around something thick in his throat. ]

I believe inhabiting a human body has had an effect on my own psychology.

[ it's said as an offhanded remark. he doesn't mean to interrupt harold, only to encourage him to go on. ]

[ornithologist]

I'd expect so. I'm intensely curious about your experiences, but please don't take that to mean that I feel you should share them with me.

[ Harold could feel himself about to slip into questions, so he mitigates what would result in another involuntary confession by making his own instead. It's an echo of what he'd said to Connor, that he doesn't think he's owed any explanation or response. Funny that he finds himself saying it to someone else here, when it's such a rare sentiment to need explained.

But just like with Connor, it's probably that Harold needs to say it more than that he thinks either of them needs to hear it. If someone else is being too giving he feels like he needs to put up boundaries for them in their defense. ]

I've put a lot of thought into how to mimic human cognitive psychology in a being without a human brain. [ That's getting into dangerous territory in a different direction, so Harold pulls it back quickly. ] Are you familiar with John Searle? The Chinese room experiment? [ Castiel seems well-read, so Harold doesn't want to assume he isn't, but he is naturally about to launch into a short lecture if he gives him the go-ahead. ]

[messenger]

[ castiel opens his mouth, snaps it shut, then he nods. it's for the best. he doesn't know how he would explain his own experiences. maybe after he's lived on earth a little longer, learned about himself a little more, he'll have the words to put to all this.

but for now, all he has is his fear and confusion. his fingers twitch. he gives harold's hand a squeeze. ]

No, I don't know who that is.

[ explain away, professor harold. ]

[ornithologist]

[ Important things take time. They have to be done patiently, in proper sequence, with a tolerance for how delicate it is to get something important right. Harold would count Castiel's perception of his own existence in this category, and isn't in a rush to pressure him to articulate his thoughts about it. He'd been so very cautious about how he taught the Machine to perceive itself, after all, bodiless sentinel that it is.

In contrast, the Chinese room thought experiment is a nicely academic explanation that Harold really has spent a considerable amount of thought on. ]

Searle was responding to the predominant sentiment at the time regarding the computational theory of mind -- that is, the idea that the human mind functions like a computer, and if you make a computer sophisticated enough, you can mimic it. But Searle noticed a fundamental flaw in this approach. What does understanding mean?

If you sealed someone in a room and gave them an English to Chinese dictionary with perfect instructions and perfect accuracy, and you slipped them pieces of paper with Chinese characters under the door, they could look them up -- process them, that is -- and return the correct result in English.

But we wouldn't say that person understands Chinese. We expect more from cognition than being able to take the right inputs and produce the right outputs. It's hard to define what that is, but we can feel when it's missing.

[ Unconsciously, his hand tightens on Castiel's as if to emphasize the point, hoping the relevance here is obvious. Harold has soft uncalloused hands, the type of person who moisturizes and has never thrown a punch in his life. ]

[messenger]

... Yes. I think I understand the point you're trying to make.

[ it's an incredibly apt comparison, because he also struggles with human language as well. he can return the correct results most of the time, but there are cultural contexts, emotional contexts, shortcuts, colloquialisms. and language, like humanity, is ever-evolving. he was not made to grow. he was made to be and to function. that he's growing is a... flaw in the system, as it was envisioned. one tiny mistyped line of code.

his mouth twists. it's not quite a smile, but it certainly isn't a frown. an expression of acceptance, maybe; of thanks. ]