[open] ctrl-alt-delete

[indigo5a]

​WHO: Shaw and open
WHERE: Various parts of the ship
WHEN: December 22
WHAT: Getting her bearings, trying not to kill people, reuniting with a ghost
WARNINGS: There will be references to psychological torture and reality warping via immersion simulation and mentions of suicide.

[ ooc: Will match format. ]


open: hallway to the promenade

The numbers never stop. That was the first thing she learned when she joined the Program. That's only natural, isn't it? Someone, somewhere, will always be plotting something. Of course their numbers keep coming. They just don't know that they're being watched. For a little while, the all-seeing eye went away for a side project known as self preservation. A fight for her life, as Root put it. Whether she's alive or not is still something Shaw hasn't decided, but what she does know is this: she is back. And it's a fortunate thing too, because Shaw wouldn't have known what to do with herself if The Machine shut down for good.

Things seemed to be going swimmingly this morning. The Machine gave her a number. Shaw picked up her gun, took her dog, and went out to investigate.

Now she's here.

No guns, no dog, just strange faces saying strange things, like 'spaceship' and 'anomaly' and other kinds of nonsense. Shaw might've knocked a few of them around when she first stepped out of the glass tube, but nothing that would leave a permanent mark. Probably. There are words she does understand, like 'brig' and 'airlock,' and while she's had plenty of Samaritan's bullshit, maybe she's curious about this next new challenge that she reins it in just enough to find out more. Because this has to be Samaritan, right? A elaborate simulation with some sort of design. The alternative is too ridiculous to entertain.

She sits through 'orientation' with a disgruntled frown. By the time a crewman shows up to hand her a duffle bag, her face reflects exactly how unamused she is by these shenanigans. He tries to lead her out to the promenade but doesn't get very far. She grabs him by the collar and shoves him against the wall of the ship's corridor.

"What's this really about? You know you can't break me. You want The Machine, you find another way."

If this is Samaritan, it'll have to learn eventually how futile this charade is.


open: hallways around the ship

The poor schmuck didn't know anything, or pretended not to. Shaw didn't think it would be so easy to get answers anyway. In any case, the threat of being jettisoned from the airlock, while amusing, doesn't sound all that great for the short term. Maybe she'll arrange for it when it seems like the only way to end it. Putting a bullet through her head is an option too, now that she's got her weapons back. Bear too, which was a nice touch, even for Samaritan.

She's got to hand it to the AI, this is one helluva sim, if it is one.

"I guess we can play along, hm?" she says to Bear, who perks up as she opens the doors to her chambers. "Let's see what they've got."

She tucks her weapons under her leather jacket and lets the dog sniff ahead unleashed. She'll follow his lead for now.

[ ooc: Feel free to encounter the dog first. He's a fairly large one (70 lb Belgian Malnois). He's a well trained military dog, so he's not going to attack without a command or an obvious threat. ]


closed: Root

[ Bear's onto something. He catches some scent, lets off a yelp (which is weird -- he sounds a little too emotional for a normal scouting mission) and takes off down the corridor. Shaw dashes after him, whizzing by bewildered looking bystanders so she can keep up.

He disappears around the corner. She catches up a few seconds later and sees an opening to a sterile looking room beyond. She draws her Beretta and slides up to the door frame. Her finger is on the trigger, ready. She peers into the room, scanning for Bear. ]

Comments

[indigo5a]

[ The reality is, Root's dead. She has been for some time. The sequence of events is lucid in Shaw's mind. Fusco tracked Root down to the morgue ... what was left of her. They buried her and went back to work. To finish her work, because if they didn't save the Machine, it would've all been for nothing.

Shaw tenses when Root steps closer. It's stupid and reckless to reach for someone who has their finger on the trigger. In the simulation, it was even easier to kill without consequence. She went for the headshot every time. What would Finch have thought? All his hard work, forgotten. Maybe Samaritan is counting on that one exception, the one person Shaw never killed.

The reality is, she doesn't know anymore.

If the last several months of her life actually happened, or if she's been cycling through a sim the whole time. If Samaritan is dead, or Root, or both. The Machine doesn't speak to her anymore. Did it ever?

She remembers clearly though, the odd little thing she told Shaw near the end. Shaw remembers because for that brief moment, she felt something other than anger.

That moment is in her mind now, as 'Root' pulls her close tightly. Shaw frowns but doesn't push away. ]

... message?

[symbiosys]

[Although Root remains blissfully unaware of the thoughts going through Sameen’s brain, she can make an educated guess of how well her mind is handling all of this. It’s a lot to take in, after everything Shaw went through in the last months, and it’s a testament to her strength that she’s still sane at all; Root knows that, if their places had been reversed, she would have probably broken a long time ago.

Shaw may be having a hard time accepting what they’re experiencing as reality, but she isn’t pushing Root away and she isn’t shooting her either, and those are very good signs. The hacker allows herself to breathe in Sam’s scent, taking in the smell of leather and gunpowder residue and shampoo that is so unmistakably Sameen, and thanks her lucky stars for whatever weird space-time anomaly allowed for them to meet again.

It takes her a moment to reply. Root doesn’t want to remember what it was like to die, but thinking back to those last moments is inevitable, given the current topic of conversation. So much pain, the warmth of her own blood, gentle hands pulling her out of the car. Tell her, please, spoken as she tried to focus on the nearest surveillance camera, but it was hard enough keeping her eyes open to begin with. Her shape. A straight line. An arrow, whispered as loudly as she could, and then she stopped speaking entirely. But The Machine never went quiet, remaining by her side until she died, taking on Sameen’s voice in those last minutes in a last desperate attempt to get her to hold on to life for a little longer.]

Yeah, [she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat that just won’t go away.] Remember our little talk about shapes?

[To be fair, it was mostly her doing the talking, but still.]

Before I died, I asked Her to tell you what shape you were, [there's a slight tremor to her voice when she mentions her own death, but she presses on, needing to give Sameen her message now just as much as she needed to back then. Root takes in a deep, shuddery breath.] A straight line. An arrow. She gave you my message... didn't She?

[indigo5a]

[ She remembers that moment. The last time she saw her alive, they were (what else) shooting guns at the agents of Samaritan. They had to get Harold out.

Bullets were flying. Glass shattering. The controlled chaos of a battlefield in the middle of New York, and Root wanted to talk about shapes. Even for her, that was weird. It didn't sound like a particularly sexy subject. Her flirting was usually more blatant. Of course, Shaw would find out later the rest of the story, the strange little ways Root's mind worked. The way she saw the world, the people in it, Shaw.

Shapes.

Maybe for a nerd, it's easier to think in geometric terms. Somehow though, she'd expected Root would think of people like code, synapses and complex programs that could be hacked like any sort of algorithm. But no. She had to think like Humpty Dumpty, as if people were shapes and shapes had meaning.

An arrow, she'd said. It's hard to imagine what exactly that meant to Root. All Shaw knows is what it meant to herself. Something sharp, straight, unbroken.

Samaritan never knew this. Never could know. Shaw's secrets stayed secret in her mind, no matter what the simulations put her through. So what is this, then? Who is she? ]

Root ...?

[symbiosys]

[Usually, Root does think of most people as computer code that she can hack into with no difficulty, sequences of 0s and 1s that are as flawed as they are unique (and boring, for the most part). But just like her found family, Sameen is not like those people: she’s special, far more so than anyone she’s ever known, and she’s different. How she thinks, how she acts, how she feels-- just because she’s wired differently doesn’t mean she’s a robot, and Root knows this-- everything about Shaw is delightfully different and that’s why Root loves her so much.

The truth is, what Shaw’s shape means to Root is almost the same as what it meant to Shaw: something sharp, unbroken, almost surgical in its precision, a force that can either harm or protect.

Sameen’s silence makes her wonder if she’s done the right thing by bringing this up at all, or if she’s miscalculated somehow and The Machine didn’t even give her her message. But then she speaks, and the sound of Root’s name is such a relief that the hacker feels as if her knees may give out at any second now.]

Yeah, [she breathes out, nodding against Sameen’s shoulder. She finally pulls back, moving away just enough to look at the other woman in the eye, and she meant for her hands to remain where they are, she really did-- holding on to Shaw’s shoulders, all but clinging to her by this point-- but she has to touch Sameen’s cheeks, to push some of those stray wisps of hair away from her beautiful face. Her lower lip is trembling and she’s dangerously close to crying yet again, but her smile is as bright and hopeful as it was when they reunited.] It’s me, sweetie.

[indigo5a]

[ This time, there is no flinch to that endearment. Maybe because she already heard it once. Or maybe because it sounds different this time. It's not like anything has changed about 'Root.' Only perspective. In a world that might or might not be real, perspective is everything.

Death is real, Shaw has seen it many times before. She's been the cause of it, too. A lot. But sometimes it's not permanent. Not in the world that Samaritan created around her.

And sometimes, maybe ... in places like these. Somewhere far away from everything she's ever known. It's not heaven or hell or in between. Just something different. The circulating air inside this med bay, the insular hallways and portholes looking out into the vacuum of space. The hollow echo of her footsteps against the steel floor, pinging off the belly of the ship. A dream or not? A sim or something more bizarre than imagination?

Real. ]

Fusco saw you in the morgue. Weeks ago. How long have you been here?

[symbiosys]

[Unlike what happened moments ago, Shaw doesn't react negatively when Root calls her 'sweetie', and that makes her so happy that her lips curl into a big honest smile, brighter than sunshine. She lets her hands rest against Sameen's cheeks, her thumbs rubbing gently along her skin.

She blinks when Shaw mentions it's been weeks since her last day on Earth, obviously surprised that so much time has passed already, although she's immensely glad to hear 'weeks' instead of 'years'. But more importantly, what exactly happened after she died? Did they make any progress at all? Did they lose anyone else?]

I have no idea, [she says with a quiet sigh.] The last thing I remember is being taken to a hospital, and then I woke up here, only a couple of hours ago.

[Is it just her imagination, or does Sam look a little less tense than before? She feels less tense, like the instinct to fight has toned down just a little bit.]

What happened since then? [She takes one good look at the other woman, examining her for any injuries and to make sure she's okay; it's only then that Root recognizes the leather jacket Shaw is wearing as one of her own, and her eyes widen as a result. The implications behind that seemingly innocent gesture hit her hard enough for the tears to finally spill over, and Root immediately reaches up to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hands. She feels all warm and fuzzy inside, but she doesn't want Shaw to feel awkward about any of this, so she brings her hands down again, placing them on Sameen's shoulders. She touches the leather jacket as if she's smoothing it, pretending that the piece of clothing does in fact have a few invisible wrinkles here and there.] Love the jacket, by the way.