lostcarnival | ⇨ POLARIS 2.0

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⇨ POLARIS 2.0

Who: Everyone!
When: Days 110 - 114
Where: Polaris
What: After a mysterious explosion shakes the station, the staff of Polaris struggle to maintain order while the test subjects fight for freedom with the aid of hidden allies. Productivity info is here.
Warnings: More graphic experimentation.

THEORY & CONCLUSION↴

At the midnight between Day 109 and Day 110, something happens. For most people, it won't be clear what - yet, they are shaken by it just the same. Violent tremors appear out of nowhere, rattling the entirety of the Polar station, violent enough to throw sleeping test subjects off their bunks. The source is unclear, but there is a sudden flurry of activity from staff as power flickers and is lost in various parts of the facility. Subjects, for the most part, will be left to their cells while they try to sort things out.

The next morning, the staff are late picking people up. It's more like 6:30AM than the usual 6AM when they arrive to take people to the farm, which is a bit of tardiness that is entirely without precedent. Any questions about the incident the previous night will be waved off with the explanation of 'technical difficulties' that have been 'resolved.'

► DELTA: The three new Deltas will be left in their cells for even longer, waiting to be picked up, instructed that they would be escorted elsewhere instead of to the farm. Around 6:45AM some unfamiliar technicians will arrive and tell them that they are here to begin their processing into Delta. They are led into a previously untouched section of the station, where they are invited into a somewhat more intimate medical room to be asked some cursory questions and given a check up. Then, their suits will be removed, and they will be provided with their new uniforms, which they can apply like normal clothes.

Delta life begins there. There will be a top level for the initial parts of their processing to be played out. Ultimately, however, they will end up being given a tour of the new Delta facilities, which amounts to a waterfront area that borders the new apartments they'll be staying in, as well a small supply shop where they can pick up an allotted amount of 'amenities' per day, based on their level of productivity and other achievements. This includes luxury items like food, pleasant smelling soaps, or other hygiene related tools. There are even small things like decorations or pictures of other places available, though they are fairly expensive.

The first day will mostly involve the processing, a tour, and some basic training regarding the new tools they will be using, such as the mandatory visors and basic computer access. The next day, observation shifts in the farm will start, as will participation in trials.

► FARMING: The Farm will continue as normal, though it seems like there are fewer staff observing it at the moment. The ones that are there seem a little bit more tense than usual. Power is still down in some places, but the Farm is thankfully still active. Sometimes the productivity turn-in scanners might be a bit glitchy, so try not to panic if it measures fewer points than you're due.

► TRIALS: Trials are continuing as projected, though with the most broad of experiments already under way, they may be more selective. If you have an idea for a trial you can be sure to share it with the staff, and they will take it under advisement! Any information you want to provide is encouraged, they will say, especially if it involves notable traits about you or your fellow test subjects - or perhaps behavioral patterns you've noticed. You might even be rewarded!

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Childermass gives a start at being outright grabbed like that, though he's hardly quick enough to avoid it. Confusion gives way to surprise, if only for a few seconds, and then his face settles back into a much more familiar tiredness. He's been trying to figure out that answer himself.

"They don't know, either," he answers, reaching up to grab Lambert's wrist but not moving his hand. He just doesn't feel inclined to for some reason. "They said something damaged my soul... I'm not sure what that all means, only that I woke up with my memory out of sorts."

Childermass waking up without his memories. Vulnerable in a way he wasn’t even when he was split in two, in the worst possible place he could be. Emotions flicker violently across Lambert’s face, from fury to anguish, but Childermass can’t even answer half the questions he wants to ask. He forces himself to ease his grip instead of giving in to the urge to shake his memories back into him, and exhales.

“You’re right. I’m the Nightrider,” he says, his voice dropping into a more businesslike cadence. “What do you remember?”

Edited 2018-10-20 18:55 (UTC)

"I remember back to the bathhouses. Shabon." Childermass says that certainly enough, so it clearly isn't all memories. "The end of our time there is harder to recall, then what's already happened... here."

He frowns over that, looking around them as if to indicate the farm. The farm, Polaris. He doesn't even know what this place is called, only that it's terrible, and to be fair, knowing the actual name probably won't matter in the future. If there even is a future.

"I've already been told about the Mother of Invention and the Huntsman," he adds, returning his attention to Lambert, "By... people. I forgot to ask their names." At this point, exhaustion shifts into him frowning some, annoyed. "I know about people but who they are have been difficult to place. I've spent more time with you, haven't I? More than anyone else I've spoken to so far."

‘Harder to recall.’ There’s a rising urge to scream, but Lambert locks it down. This isn’t the time. There’s recognition in Childermass’s face, but not enough recognition, and shameful as it is to admit ... this makes some things easier, right now.

For now, there’s a choice to make, looking into Childermass’s face, hearing that question. Lambert only hesitates a moment before he snorts, gruffly brushing Childermass’s grip on his wrist away and crossing his arms.

“That’s because we’re both supervisors. You’re the Acquisitioner. We work for the Ringmaster.” Used to work. But Lambert isn’t ready to relegate her to the past tense just yet, and he goes on. “I don’t know what happened to make you lose your memory, but ... we were working on a plan to get out of here. I messed up. You can’t.”

Edited 2018-10-20 20:10 (UTC)

Childermass carries on frowning at Lambert a moment longer as he lets his arm fall back to his side, like he may not entirely believe him. They spent time together because they're colleagues? But if they're both supervisors, there's reason to trust what he says. The frown fades and he'll accept that answer, for now.

"You messed up. Somehow that sounds normal but you'll have to explain it better than that," he says with a sigh. He doesn't recall any plan, he isn't sure what he means by messing up.

Lambert shrugs, smiling wryly.

“My plans always mess up,” he says, simply. “Yours don’t. You just never tell me about them. But you always have one.”

He pauses, continuing— “You’ve seen the ranks in this place, right? You’re an Eta, like I was. Theta’s the level under that. Have you been working?”

"If I did have one, I certainly can't remember it," he says with a sigh before blinking at his question. "You mean on the farm? Of course. That's what everyone else was doing, so I just assumed."

"There's something else," Lambert says, grimly. "Being an Eta means ... working won't be enough to stay on top of everything, to keep yourself from dropping to Theta. You have to sign up for at least one of the trials they put up, on that board over there." He points at said board in question.

"Has anyone told you about those?"

"Trials?"

That's a big no there. Childermass looks back towards the board when Lambert points. He'd seen it before but not much of interest seemed to be posted yet, apart from numbers and ranks. Even with his memory drawing a blank, there's a spike of fear he can't explain, enough that he won't look back towards the witcher just yet.

"They have, somewhat..."

Edited (i lied someone did) 2018-10-21 02:27 (UTC)

"They're ... something." Yeah, sorry Childermass, that's the best Lambert's got. "They post 'em up there, say the kind of people they're looking for, and they bring 'em in for experiments."

His tail curls behind himself, self-consciously, and he purses his lips. Now that Childermass's back is facing him, though ... Lambert stiffens when he catches sight of the studs lining Childermass's back. It's subtle, but with as close as the suit hugs, they're prominent. His throat tightens.

"You've been through a couple. That's how you haven't dropped down to Theta yet."

So he has been through them. Just dwelling on it gives him a bad enough feeling that it prompts him to say as he turns back towards Lambert, completely unaware of the bolts he's managed to spot, "Perhaps it best I don't remember them. I imagine everyone is thinking I've lost my memory from a trial as well."

"It seems like the likeliest reason," Lambert admits, shrugging, but he's frowning. He doesn't like the idea that there might be other things fucking with them here. "Memory wouldn't be the worst thing they've taken, considering."

"Do I want to know what's been worse or am I better off never knowing?" Childermass can't help but ask in response to that.

"Normally, I'd say ignorance is bliss, but you should probably have some idea of what you're getting into if you sign up for one," Lambert admits.

"I've seen people come back missing their tails, fingers, and--" Hm, what's a good analogy for a gem? "--hearts. In other trials, they just kill and revive people over and over again. Sometimes you get lucky and it doesn't hurt much, but who knows what they're actually getting out of it."

He clears his throat. "Anyway, what I'm saying is ... if you take a trial, try to be smart about it. Little hard to be much help if you're crippled." He tries for a wry smile, only sort of succeeds.

Edited 2018-10-23 00:19 (UTC)

And the more Lambert describes, the more Childermass looks a way that he very rarely — if ever — looks. It's frightening, hearing that. People missing parts of themselves, people killed again and again, and that the magician feels that slowly becomes plain on his face, eyes widening some, lips drawn thin. He takes a step back, holding up a hand.

"That's enough, I.. I don't want to know more. About what happens." Moreso, he doesn't want to lose control over something he typically keeps well under wraps. Why fear rears its head so easily now, he doesn't know. "How am I to know they'll be like that? Surely they don't describe the trails in such a manner ahead of time."

Otherwise, no one would take them, right?

Edited 2018-10-23 03:54 (UTC)

Lambert stops, watching Childermass's face. It feels wrong, seeing like this, but he can't offer any reassurance, either.

"You don't," Lambert says, quietly. "You have to guess." Which is exactly as shitty as it sounds. But though he doesn't step any closer to Childermass he will, warily, hold up a hand, fingers spread.

"I think ... they might have done something to your back," he starts, awkwardly. "Can I touch it, or does it hurt?"

If Lambert was hoping to have him react with less fear, well, that isn't happening. Just mentioning that has him startled, turning to try and see, only, obviously, his neck won't turn that far. He does reach back as well, fumbling, finding a bolt.

"No, it's... I thought my back was sore but... what is it? What is it?!"

Cool, now he's panicking. There's something in his back that shouldn't be there and he had no idea.

Yeah, this is just painful. Lambert is going to reach out and grab Childermass's hands if he can, even if the strain of making the attempt prompts his back to twinge painfully in protest.

"John," he says quietly. Hopefully, his own name isn't among the things the magician's forgotten. "I need you to calm down, or you're going to make the technicians start sniffing around."

He doesn't actually know if that's true, but he's not supposed to be agitating the other subjects, and he's not keen on finding out what might happen if he pushes that.

Hearing that does work out in getting Childermass to hold still, try to calm down, and he doesn't fight Lambert while he has his hands. He looks back around, giving up on trying to see his back in any way (since it's not really possible, anyway).

"What did they do?"

"I can't see what it is under the suit," Lambert says, keeping his voice level. "But you have some studs along on your upper back. I don't know what that means. How sore is your back?"

"Clearly not sore enough for me to notice," Childermass says quietly, fingers curling into fists while Lambert hangs onto them. "But everything felt sore when I woke up. I didn't imagine that it could be something else."

Lambert's expression is a bit pinched, but when he realizes he's still hanging on to Childermass's hands, he lets them go.

"Then it's not worth worrying about right now," he says, finally. It's not good advice, but it's the only advice he has right now.

"You can't change what's done, but you survived it. That means you can still make a difference."

He pulls his hands back, taking a step away.

"And just how much indignity do I have to survive from Winter?" Childermass reaches back again, feeling out one of the bolts. He can't pull it out, obviously, even though he tries and only ends up grimacing at the feeling the attempt brings. "As if changing my entire being wasn't enough? Now they've put this... this... I don't even know! It's disgusting!"

Whatever it is, it must be. It's from one of the Winter Court's many monsters.

“If you’re worried about indignity, at least they haven’t put you through pissing and shitting yourself for a week,” Lambert points out, voice harsh. If trying to mind Childermass’s feelings isn’t working then fine. He’s better at being an ass than being comforting, anyway.

“You’re disgusted? Then use that disgust. Take what what they’ve done to you, what you hate, and make it yours. Learn how to use it, before it’s used against you.” He bares his teeth, tail lashing in agitation, but has to stop and reach a hand back, try to hold the damnable thing in place.

"I don't even know what it is," Childermass snaps back. He doesn't want to collapse in horror, so anger's the next best option. "Who wants to learn to use anything that's been done to them? I want it out, I want it gone, I..."

He trails off there, the last bust of his anger. He lets go of the nearest bolt in his back again, only to let his shoulders sag as he looks up at Lambert again.

"I don't know," he sighs at the end. "I should get back to work."

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whattaprick - 2018-10-26 15:26 (UTC) - Expand

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