strangetrip | [GP] Check-in Day

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[GP] Check-in Day

The wheel of the year turned and turned and Curnen found herself at an anniversary of sorts that she flatly didn't want to be remembering but got stuck on a loop of anyway.

This time there was no taking the hell off into the wilderness, though. Nor were there endless, circular recitations of "The Queen of Argyll." Rather than be poisoned by the memory of someone she still hated like everloving fuck, she focused on remembering the friend she'd lost. And besides this being Kash's song, she figured it was never a bad time around here for "John Barleycorn." Perched on the roof with her guitar, she sang of John Barleycorn's dying and rising again, subtle magic weaving into her voice to lead anyone lost in their little bubble world this way.

There was three men come out of the west their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn must die,
They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in, threw clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead.

It was Kash's song, in her mind, but you talked to half the people around here and it wasn't a bad fit for them, either. From her vantage point, she watched the road.

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Following the much-anticipated encounter with Elijah Kamski, Connor was dropped back off at the Detroit precinct with absolutely nothing to show for it. He could have predicted the enigmatic creator of android-kind to avoid probing questions about his creations displaying rogue traits--what man of his prestige would feed the notion that his legacy was rapidly evolving into a blood-soaked one, especially to a drunkard of a detective and himself, a mere android companion? It was simply human nature to protect ones reputation at all costs.

However--as Connor was learning the hard way--it was also human nature to relish in their own unpredictability. Kamski volunteered all of his knowledge willingly if Connor could pass a "test." It was a simple one, at that. Of course, Connor had been prepared. There was nothing standing between him and the absolution of his mission.

And he had failed. Spectacularly.

Alone, with Lieutenant Anderson gone and nothing left for the day but to deliver the report, Connor entered stasis. There, Amanda had been waiting for him. Even if she was simply the graphic representation of Cyberlife itself--simply an interface--he yearned her approval like a child would of their parents. From one look at her, it was clear he wouldn't be getting it.

"After what happened today the country's on the verge of a Civil War. Machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them." She didn't need to say it. The cold reproach on her face and in her voice said it all.

"I thought Kamski knew something. I was wrong."

"Maybe he did. But you chose not to ask."

Connor could bring himself to say little else. If nothing else, one thing was clear--this was his last chance in every sense of the word. Closing his eyes and exiting the virtual location, he was leaving with as little as he came. No direction. No answers. And then, he opened his eyes, and before him stood an unfamiliar threshold. He simply stared. It wasn't the precinct, that much was immediately clear, but the implications of this were lost on him.

Ah, arrival day. Loki rarely had much to do with the new arrivals when they arrived; he wasn't a comforting presence, generally speaking, and it was still a good idea to get along as best he could. This was still a prison, everyone was still in the same situation, and new arrivals didn't need to be poked on top of their other troubles.

Of course, most new arrivals didn't stare at a doorway like they'd never seen one before as this one was, and that made Loki pause on his way through the lobby. He appeared to be a rather good-looking young human, but there was an odd sense to him in addition to a glowing circle on his temple that warned Loki off of assuming too much. He himself looked human, but wasn't. "I realize you've just arrived, but I would hope 'door' is a multiversal concept."

Connor twisted his upper body to face the immediately-unfamiliar voice to see the immediately-unfamiliar face.

'Not an officer. Civilian? ...Convict?' Immediately, Connor cross-referenced the strangers face with the criminal database at his disposal. Instead, an error looped him back to square one. Database unavailable. His LED blinked yellow, the only outward manifestation of his confusion outside of an alarmed microexpression.

"...My apologies." Connor dutifully moved to the side of the door in anticipation of this individual or others needing to pass through.

Blue light, then yellow. Hmm. Yellow was a nearly universal color for caution, or warning, or error if one was dealing with computers. Some sort of cybernetic implant, perhaps? That might explain the odd not-quite-there feel to the man. "No need to apologize. You're new, you get a few days' grace. I think you'd best come in and start getting check-in over with."

Connor regarded the stranger with a wordless stare and then looked behind himself at the sprawling landscape of wilderness. At least one truth had made itself apparent: this was not Detroit. He turned back to Loki and analyzed his options. The prospect of sabotage and kidnapping weighed on him, but while this individual wasn't being actively hostile, Connor opted for the diplomatic approach. Extreme action needed just cause.

"Where am I?"

"This is the Madonna Inn. It's a pocket universe version of a hotel in California, or so I'm told." Breaking news gently was not a skill Loki exercised very often. In this case, it seemed likely that the best answer was the blunt answer. "You're trapped here like the rest of us now."

Loki's explanation was reasonable as far as the first sentence went. After that, Connor simply listened and made an executive decision to disengage. Without knowledge of proper mental health services to direct this confused individual towards, Connor had to prioritize his bodily integrity.

"I see." He covertly scanned Loki's person for any signs of weapons or paraphernalia as well as gauging routes of escape, all instantaneously. "Thank you for your time."

Disbelief, however polite, was never difficult to discern. In many ways it was part of Loki's stock in trade as an illusionist: identify disbelief and address it. "I assure you disbelieving me is a waste of your time. Reality doesn't care whether it makes sense or not." He offered one of his best smiles, then gestured at Darryl at the front desk. "If you want proof, go ask that fellow where you are. Get your room key while you're at it."

The moment that smile spread across Loki's face, Connor re-assessed the man. He was clearly confident in his assertions or else committed to his delusions, whatever they were, but his mannerisms immediately suggested a Machiavellian profile.

'Possibility of deception? High. Sadistic tendencies? Probable.' The former could only be confirmed with investigation, and the latter could only be managed with the skills gifted to him through his design. Connor made a slight arc around Loki, keeping an eye on his movement before turning his eyes towards the desk as he approached.

Loki folded his hands behind his back and continued to smile. He was content to wait patiently until the newcomer had decided to grant the possibility that reality was in fact reality.

Following a baffling but straight forward exchange between himself and the front desk staff, Connor now had a something in the form of a room key and corroboration for Loki's story. Questions raised more questions, but there was an odd sense of satisfaction following being granted something for his work.

"I'm told your name is Loki. Is that correct?" He opened with as he approached Loki once again.

"It is. Did he give you a patronymic to go with the given name?" It seemed to go either way with Darryl. Occasionally he remembered that Loki didn't care to use a patronymic, other times he didn't. "That's simple curiosity, you need not answer. How do you feel about reality now?"

"Odinson." Connor answered, despite Loki's assurance it was unneeded. Sparing another moment to study the room key, he elected continuing the straightforward approach. "You said residents of the inn are 'trapped.' Based on your description, are you suggesting it's through some...physical law?"

"Of course he picked that one." Loki felt obscurely that it was the worse of the two options, but sadly lately it also felt the most appropriate. Sigh. "Ah, well. I'm suggesting that this world is limited in scope and possesses no exits. Feel free to explore and search, but after four hours of travel in any direction, you'll just end up here again."

Connor didn't miss the flash of bitterness, but there was nothing he could do for it. 'Familial dysfunction: highly likely.' Despite the pathology, this human wasn't bothering with the posturing and threats. That immediately elevated him over the likes of Gavin. Even so...

"I'm sorry, but that sounds like fiction." Connor wasn't being flippant, he meant it as literally as could be. Being dropped in another world without means escape was as popular a trope as they came in human media.

“Said the at least partially mechanical being to the god of mischief.” Loki chuckled, genuinely amused. “Everything sounds like fiction if you say it right.”

"Fully mechanical, Mr. Odinson." Connor answered in a straightforward manner, pointedly not remarking on his...commitment to the bit.

“Excellent. It’s difficult to tell.” Physical contact or a more complete mental probewould no doubt make it obvious, but Loki didn’t need the proof. “And just Loki, if you please. I don’t claim any patronymic, they just get claimed for me.”

'Individual unfamiliar with androids?' Connor stayed silent, looking down at the room key in his hand. 'Expected arrival. No escape. Physical law.' The flow of data that so seamlessly connected into a narrative within his finely honed processor seemed to hit a wall with each and every angle he observed it from. There was no point A to point B--the points themselves were utterly nonsensical.

'No escape. Physical law. Elijah Kamski. Lieutenant Anderson. Civil war. Last chance.' The concepts were racing as Connor struggled to process them. Was this his punishment for his failure, getting denied his last chance in the process? His LED churned a frantic yellow to red.

He touched a finger to his temple, ceasing the loop. The feedback was as useless as it was energy-consuming. His conclusion was as nonsensical as his predicament--he would have been decommissioned and there would be nothing. Wherever he was, he was still functioning. "How did I get here?"

Blue to yellow again, possibly indicating some kind of... processing or analyzing, more than likely. But then yellow turned to red, and there was virtually no way that could be good. Passive to processing to... error? Almost certainly.

It was probably best if the new android didn't explode or burn out his neural core, so Loki answered without playing games. "No one really knows, beyond some form of teleportation. We all come from different universes and different times, and those of us from the same universe but different times have no memory of others being gone. Best guess you'll be returned to your universe at some unknown future point, and no time will have passed there."

'No time will have passed.' His LED sustained a steady yellow as he listened to Loki speak. His life--his mission, rather-- depended on every scrap of data he could glean from the man.

"...Then, taking your claims to their natural conclusion, that would make you literal mythological being known as Loki." He paused. "In some universe."

"Correct! Possibly your universe, but I think I doubt it." If nothing else, the Earth Loki was familiar with didn't have androids at this one's level of similarity to humans, which indicated he'd have to be from the future. And any future of that Midgard's histories would no doubt include mentions of the Avengers... and, probably, their enemies.

Therefore, if Loki was a mythological being to this android rather than an historical one, they were probably not from the same universe. "There are several non-Earth-based residents, and though the bulk are from Earth I think they're likely to be from the past, by your estimation."

At no point in history did a deity make contact with humanity. Secularism had been on the rise for the past few generations of Americans, though the advent of android-kind had inspired a few fringe cults. A sudden, reckless urge to ask this self-proclaimed god if he knew anything about rA9 appeared, though Connor suppressed it.

"I'm from Detroit. November 9th, 2038." Connor instead explained, eyes trained on Loki's face. There was still the possibility that this all a ruse of some kind, but it was just a game of detecting untruths and contradictions--should they appear.

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