2023-07-06 Malcolm Avatar Fragment 3
Avatar Fragments: The Rational Mind
Participants: Malcolm
Storyteller: Jasmine (optional)
Location: Glendale Tool Company; Malcolm's house
Date and Time: July 6, 2023
Summary: A triumph.
Part 1:
=============== Shop Floor - Glendale Tool Company - Glendale ===============
Welcome to the beating heart of the Glendale Tool Company.
At the center of this expanse of concrete flooring and steel beams is a tall, vertically oriented metal tower. Made out of stainless steel with brass fittings and attachments, it bears an electronic control panel. Among its lights and buttons reads a brass plate "Thermo-Etheric Energy Core" in precisely-engraved capital letters.
Radiating out from this central power source are rows and rows of workspaces. Some of them are electronics engineering benches. Some are computers doing who-knows-what. Some are big spaces with large-scale metal work and engineering.
Along the side walls are a number of offices and conference rooms for quiet work and conversation.
---------------------------------- Players ---------------------------------- Jasmine 0s 5'6", brown eyes/hair, Ench. Voice, Cha 4, Fame 1 Malcolm 6s Mountain of a Marine. Huge Size Merit
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+STOPLIGHT> All Green
---<Malcolm>---------------
Ol man Malcolm is using a arc welder to weld a few pieces of sheet metal together for a current project he is working on. His demeanor is mostly up beat for a moment as he humm a little tune of shinedown .45 as he is working away on his task.
---<Jasmine>---------------
It's otherwise pretty quiet in the GTC, at least here on the shop floor. Nobody else is working on things just now -- only Mal and his welder, the huge man spreading sparks as he works on the sheet metal.
There's a few moments where he swears he hears some weird squeaking sounds under his humming and the sounds of metallic destruction. Probably just the floor under his steel-toed boots showing the difficulty of supporting nigh on three hundred pounds of man-mountain-mage. Right?
---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm puts down the power equipment for a moment and looks about just to be on the safe side of thing, flipping up the wielding mask to look about the shop floor before looking down to his feet. A sigh of confusion set in, "I must be getting old. Clearly starting to hear things."
---<Jasmine>---------------
The squeak repeats, then intensifies to something that sounds more like the shink-squeeeeeeal of metal being dragged across metal.
. ---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm looks about with a hint more frantic intensity. Attempting to find the source of the sound, he looks back down to the metal and then again out to the shop floor, "What in the fucking is that noise?"
---<Jasmine>---------------
"...the fucking hell is that noise... noise... noise..."
The room is suddenly silent, too silent to be normal. Even the sound of machines and tools has dampened down to nothing. Malcolm's frantic agitation swells, and a cold, even tone speaks from behind him.
"That *noise* is the chaos in your mind."
When he turns, he's facing a faceless shape, something that almost looks like the liquid-metal Terminator. It's of a height and size with him, just shy of seven feet tall and broad, and it speaks with calm economy.
"Be calm. I offer no harm or threat to you, Doctor."
---<Malcolm>---------------
"Great Liquid Metal Terminators, batman! What in the absolute FUCK ARE YOU?!?!" Yup, he is handling this about as well as a surprise donkey show with a German Nazi Midget Hitler. Clearly not well. "I... hmmm.. Da'fuck?" He looks down to his flask and smells it and pick up his cigar, "This better not be a LSD trip prank from those girls, I will be cross as hell.. It could be hands, that cat would do anything to fuck with my head." He looks back to the Liquid metal monster and does what any insane etherite would do. Point it with a finger.
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
His finger meets cool metal. It makes a bit of a plinking sound as he pushes, and there's a tiny dent left that smooths itself out. The figure seems... unmoved.
"I am no prank. I am here to return to you something you have lost. But I must first ensure that it will be well-kept and well-used."
. ---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm looks to the thing, "At this point I am questioning if it was my marbles that I lost." He hops on the table and sit at it edge, "So.. You are here to bring me something I have lost.. Could you go into more detail here?" He grumbles a bit as he bites down on his cigar and eyes the thing some more, "And what do you mean Well-Kept and Well-Used?" He rolls that stogie around from side to side in his mouth as he seem to be lost in thought.
ROLL> Malcolm: Perception + Awareness vs. 6 -> 2 successes. (10 6 3 2 2)
---<Jasmine>---------------
The figure considers Malcolm for a moment or two. There's a weird sense of otherness about everything; it's as if Malcolm's reality is all a function of his mind, and not based on the input of his senses. "Part of your genius, your higher mind, is missing. And I am here to help you find it once more."
The figure gives Malcolm time to think, as much as he wants; it seems to be infinitely patient, emotionless.
---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm laughs a bit as he slap his knee, "Well, You are it.. The mirror, the embodiment of my truest self.. The thing behind the curtain." He murmur with a frown, "I remember you, I don't think we have ever had a conversation like this before, have we? Point to fact, I don't recall you ever speaking for that matter, it has been more about showing me my sins, my suffering and ensure I remember those moment so I don't repeat them."
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
"That... was a fragment. Not what I am," the entity demurs, "But no, we have not talked before. I am not the fragment but its echo. A concept given form for its use." A pause. "It is important to remember."
In the cold, inflectionless words, there is a truth, something akin to that moment of pure breath just before pulling the trigger. A moment of pure possibility without emotional weight. A simple, quiet chill that feels all too familiar.
---<Malcolm>---------------
He closes his eyes and focuses on the moment, recalling those fragment of the past, "I see, So I have no more to fear from you then I do from myself. For you are me. That breath between breaths. The rush of death, the excitement of truly feeling alive. It is a funny thing that line isn't it. The Madnesses of a end and the joys of new beginning. Come, Phantom, teach me your lessons."
---<Jasmine>---------------
Cold metal hands reach out to take Malcolm's, and then everything slips away for a moment...
======================= BB Post ======================
Group: Traditions: Plots / PRPs Title: GTC Members, IC July 6, 2023 - Re: Malcolm
At some point on July 6, Malcolm Belmont was working with an arc welder on the GTC's shop floor. Something happened, and he is now found collapsed, unconscious, unresponsive to stimuli including Mind magic. Something is bouncing Mind magic back that tries to reach him.
This was seen on the security monitors inside the chantry proper.
A little later, the huge form of Malcolm was moved to his house, apparently, but a note was left on the bulletin board inside the GTC:
"People:
Malcolm is currently doing a Seeking or something, but I haven't been able to reach him through Mind work or Spirit work yet. My Life discernment says that he's fine and in perfect health, and his mind is working judging from the blood flow, but I am keeping an eye on things. If need be, I will run an IV to ensure he stays hydrated. I'm not sensing any Paradox, so I don't think it's a backlash, but I can't be sure.
If you have any ideas about wtf is going on, please let me know. If you can't find me here, my phone is xxx-xxx-xxxx.
Thanks, Jasmine Taylor, Kha'vadi (his kid)"
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Part 2:
======================== Tudor Style Home - Glendale ========================
This living room is fairly simple. The floor of the house is wood, with old rugs here and there. A large entertainment center resides at the far end of the living room, with many movies and CDs available for play. The walls are red brick, giving the Tudor-style house feel, and simple silk curtains hang from the window sills. The windows remain open on most occasions, as they allow the breezes to flow through the house. The kitchen is very clean and organized, yet simple. A small hallway leads the way to the bathroom, utility room, and a large set of double doors that signify the Master Bedroom. To the left of the entry leads a door, assumably giving access to the garage.
---<Jasmine>---------------
Before Malcolm, spread across his otherwise-clean worktable in the garage, lies a series of parts. All manner of parts; he can identify them all with work and time, will be able to use them to assemble several whole items. But what items are they?
(Give me whatever ability + attribute rolls you think may be appropriate here.)
ROLL> Malcolm: Dexterity + Firearms vs. 6 -> 4 successes. (10 10 8 6 3 2 2)
ROLL> Malcolm: Dexterity + Hypertech vs. 6 -> 3 successes. (7 7 7 5 5)
ROLL> Malcolm: Dexterity + Demolitions vs. 6 -> 3 successes. (10 10 8 6 3 1)
ROLL> Malcolm: Intelligence + Science vs. 6 -> 2 successes. (10 8 6 2 2 1)
ROLL> Jasmine: 1 vs. 6 -> 0 successes. (2)
---<Jasmine>---------------
The first thing he sees to assemble is his familiar rifle, with scope and bipod included. Seems obvious, yes? He's able to put that together without difficulty, of course, having done it so often that it's known by rote at this point.
Once ol' reliable is assembled, it takes up a fair amount of the space on the worktable, but there's room on the bench to put it aside for now.
The next object he can discern from among the remaining parts is something to detonate explosives... a timed fuse, used to remotely set off a blast.
. ---<Malcolm>---------------
It is like his very hands are working free of his mind, he looks down to the weapon with a detached expression, A sense of duty and honor floods his mind, yet within the depth of his soul, a pit of guilt and despair still haunts his dying humanity.
The next object is look at with shame, a breach and clear package, how many enemy combatants had their lives taken by his own hands due to one of these little devices. He shakes just his head and continues to labor over the rest of the work bench.
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
The instruments come together in his hands without difficulty; the lingering emotions seem to swirl in the air lightly around each, but the lines and shape of each item are clear, crisp, precise. His mind is his own, his thoughts his own.
The distance, the detachment, seem fitting; an instrument serves its purpose, a tool its function. But what is he? The scientific mind knows, but more, it theorizes, it extrapolates, it seeks further understanding.
The cool, even voice greets him again, its evenness inhuman but not cruel. "What have your instruments taught you?"
---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm just sit there, the weight of his age baring down on his soul, His thought so very heavy with guilt, "They have taught me that everything we do, for whatever action we take. Comes with a cost and those costs are more often then not, a piece of our soul... Just a little bit of of that light in us grows dimmer with each year of sin, each regret. Those moment of happiness are the only things that keep that light alive in us.. it is when that light finally goes out that we are truly dead inside."
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
The voice is not comforting, but neither is it scolding. "Have they taught you nothing of discovery? All things have a cost, but all things also have a result. No truth was ever found without toil. No knowledge was gained without pain."
The pieces scattered on the table resolve; he finds some of them make a set of ether goggles, for analyzing material things.
"Every trial brings the mind closer to unvarnished truth. You only fail when you stop."
Photos become clear in his vision, tacked on the walls of the garage: pictures of Mal with his fellow soldiers, of Mal with his daughter, of Mal with his fellow students at USC, and more recently, of Mal with Jasmine, Chloe, and Morgan in the backyard, Hands peering out from behind Jasmine's shoulder.
"What parts of your soul do you think you have lost?"
. ---<Malcolm>---------------
The coldest truth comes to light, the one he has shy away from for all these years, "The part that make me feel guilt for killing, I don't feel that anymore. I could end a life without a second thought with a weapon or my bare hands.. That moment hesitation that I felt before I pull the trigger, it has long since gone.. I don't feel the pain of death, I am mourning the loss of that feeling. That line in the sand that kept me human, I don't even know where it was. I.. I can't remember the faces of all the people I have killed anymore and worse yet, I don't feel bad about it." He sigh, "It has been as liberating as it has been damning. This detachment has been the price of my brilliance, my breakthroughs in science. When you have no guardrails, there is nothing holding you back."
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
The figure is silent as Malcolm speaks, allowing his words their gravity. There is a dissonant chord echoing from the sound of each as he speaks it, and the figure studies Malcolm with liquid-metal eyes.
"The Rational Man is the man of science. A man of science must make choices that a man of emotion might not."
There is no moral judgment in those molten eyes, just comprehension.
"To be human is to be complex. To be a scientist is to be able to rise above that complexity to the simplicity of truth. Your removal gives you insight many would not attain. But still, you doubt. Still you do not connect to the whole of your intellect."
---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm drift back into a deeper slumber as the rest the vision fades from his mind and his body falls back into a peaceful sleep.
.
Part 3:
---<Jasmine>---------------
Malcolm is within that familiar room once more, the mirror-hall, the place of self... and around him, around the room, are scenes of his life. Places of self-doubt, places of emotional failing, places where he felt his intellect and rationality did not measure up.
There is a moment where the liquid metal of the figure flares, hardens, becoming a mirror, and then it shatters, pieces missing from its shape.
Jasmine's mother watches disapprovingly, from her younger days when he was still her lover. Jasmine herself at various ages is scattered around the room, watching him with awe and love in all of those stages. His colleagues within the Society of Ether are there, some approving and welcoming, some regarding the huge Marine as an interloper, not truly a man of science at all. The figures of the Council higher-ups who asked the unthinkable of him, knowing his hidden past. Even some of his fellow Marines reside there, welcoming him.
---<Malcolm>---------------
Malcolm step softly around this blessed and cursed hall, stopping and taking weight of each of the shattered mirrors of his life, pushing the floating fragment away from time to time to investigate the next one until at last he speaks, "Malcolm Belmont, for better or worse this is your life." Those heavy eyes gaze upon the glass with love and hate in equal measure as he is uncertain of what he will see next until it is reveal. "Ok, Aeon.. tell me the lesson? Show me my path or serve me my judgement."
---<Jasmine>---------------
The voice speaks again, with no figure to accompany it: "The lesson is to be learned, not given. What have you learned from each of these? What lessons has your mind taken from each of these people? Not just the emotional lessons, but the intellectual ones. What did you learn to do, or not to do? What did you take away from each?"
The figures of his Marine cohort, his best-known fellow soldiers, seems brightest here. They all look so young, so... unspoiled and unworried. They seem like children compared to the adults they became.
---<Malcolm>---------------
There is a sigh and yet another harsh reality comes baring down, "That Progress requires sacrifice, Sacrifice of friends, family, lovers and happiness to move pass it all, truly be success one must sometimes give up everything and devote themselves to the mission, project, task or requirement. That emotions have to be abandoned.. no matter the cost, science must prevail."
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
The voice is silent for a moment, for a stretch of them. Then it speaks again:
"You see them. Do you see YOU?"
And now, in each of those scenarios, a Malcolm is placed within -- the Malcolm of that moment, who acted based on what he knew in that moment, and proceeded as best he could at the time.
"Which of these men was wrong? Which man was right? In testing the hypotheses of life's challenges, which Malcolm Belmont is the one who became you?"
. . ---<Malcolm>--------------- "Your very question lacks logic, or is each of these versions of me, None of these choices had the luxury of being right or wrong. They just are, if I made any other choice, the laws of time would state that I wouldn't be the man I am today, and I would not be Malcolm Belmont of this timeline."
"Your question was a trick, a fool's errand to trap me within my own thoughts." He eyes the thing with a disapproving glare, "But you made your point, I am the sum of all my choices good or bad." He cracks his neck with a violent jerk before looking around this sanctum of the mind. "But none of this would be possible without a drive to move forward, to grow and evolve."
. ---<Jasmine>---------------
The mirrors stop moving, falling into place. The mirror is still not complete, jagged sections missing here and there -- much like the man himself.
"All roads lead to Rome," the voice agrees. "All men change, and evolve. All lives are a constantly-retallied sum of all experiences, all choices, all thoughts. The mind of the scientist is constantly evolving as well; it does not resist the change but flows through it, taking in the truth and leaving aside the dross." The voice, while still mostly neutral, has warmed slightly, become less inhuman.
"You are Malcolm Belmont. For all that it is worth. You are authentically yourself."
.
