(Collab. between KuroTenshi and Justric)
The voice sounded sort of familiar, but Hob really wasn’t thinking on it much. He simply felt too washed out to bother even opening his eyes at all, instead waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the newcomer.
“No. No, not really. I’m trying to brace myself before they strip me bare, cover me in wires, and shove me into a wall for four hours.” Hob rubbed at his face before opening his eyes finally to look at the man. Frowning, he noted the blue hair. “Wait, you’re the guy with the Ghosts? Well, I don’t have any answers for you. If it’s in my work queue, I’ll get to it when I get to it. Although they shouldn’t be able to get into the mining ships, I didn’t think.”
Hob noted the blood stains but refrained from asking after the man’s health. If he had been in pain or serious need, he sure as hell wouldn’t be stopping to talk to some guy in the middle of the corridor! All he said of it was, “Nice fashion statement.”
Connor winced sympathetically at the statement about being placed in one of the NI tubes. He was glad he had been able to avoid being assigned to maintain those. They seemed...terrifying to him.
Snapping back to the conversation he looked down at himself, not really sure what about his appearance the man was talking about. “Thanks?” He offered as a response and after a moment he sat himself down on the floor so he wasn’t looking down at the other.
“And I didn’t stop to ask you any questions about the Ghosts,” Though he certainly had some still, but they could wait. “I stopped because...Well, quite frankly you looked like someone kicked your puppy...Out of an air lock. So…” He trailed off and scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, thought I’d ask what was up? I feel bad about jumping down your throat earlier, it was really uncalled for.”
“S’all right,” Hob replied laconically, “That’s not even the worst kind of calls I usually get. At least it’s interesting. I mean, come on! We’re in what century? Do I really have to explain to people that if they didn’t save their files, then they’re probably gone? Or that the keyboard has to be synched to the desktop units for them to work? I’m surprised no one has complained to me yet that their handheld runs too slow for them to watch their porn.”
Running both hands through his dark hair, Hob chuckled. “Don’t say anything too loud about puppies, though. The way things are going they’ll give me one just for the sole purpose of taking it away from me… to kick it… and then throw it out of an airlock.” He glanced up at the tech and smirked. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that someone can’t force you to do something you don’t want, kid. Half the time? You’ll be lucky if they even tell you upfront.”
Hob rose slowly. His limbs felt stiff from sitting but no worse than coming out of the interface. Reaching up to his breast pocket, he pulled his handheld and turned it back on. Ten minutes to go. “Man, I really do not want to go in there,” he muttered.
Connor started to give a weak smile but it vanished at the warning. A chill went up his spine and a lump started to form in his stomach. He slowly stood up as well and he rubbed at his bandaged arm for a moment, thinking back to Abby and Devika’s assurance’s that no one could force him to alter himself.
Well...there was someone standing right in front of him that was proof that consent doesn’t mean a lot to those in charge.
“Are, uh, are you sure about that?” Connor asked nervously. “I mean about being forced into doing stuff you don’t want, like say, totally random here, a major brain operation?”
The look that was returned could only be described as dark. Hob actually lowered his head a little and raised his eyebrows as though in disbelief that he was even being asked the question. Slowly, he raised one hand to lightly tap the small silver circle implanted into his one temple. “You think I signed up for this, kid? Most of us were kidnapped or tricked, we weren’t even asked. Even the four or five of us who did volunteer didn’t really know what they were in for. And I’m pretty sure there were a lot more ‘candidates’ who simply didn’t make it. I’ve got several thousands of wires going through my skull and you ain’t gonna find my signature on a single piece of paper saying I wanted this, trust me. Migraines? Six years of nightmares while my body was a popsicle? Chances of a drastically shortened life span? Increased risk of strokes and aneurysms? Not to mention the oh-so-pleasant treatment by my handlers!”
Hob shook his head sadly. “Someone comes at you asking to fuck with your body in any way? Run. Just run, kid. That’s my advice. I have yet to trust a single thing any doctor, engineer, or scientist has had to say to me after my little ‘operation’. And don’t even talk to me about anyone in uniform!”
Connor took a step back, staring at the NI-Tech with wide eyes as he went off into his rant. “But,” He was about to bring up Abby and what she told him and he trusted her completely, but he snapped his mouth shut. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry.” He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. “I’ll...get out of your hair.” He said before turning and starting to walk away, his mind starting to swirl with dark thoughts about what could happen to him if Hob really was right.
Still scowling, Hob glanced at his handheld again. Eight minutes. Eight minutes until he could go back in, and then four hours and eight minutes before he would be pulled out again. Which to dread more? Looking up, he watched the blue haired engineer walk away. Guy seemed decent. He felt slightly uneasy about ending the conversation on such a grim note, and before he thought any further about it he called back after him. “Hey, kid! Connor!” Pause. “Don’t pay too much attention to me, right? Just watch your back. S’all I’m saying. And… thanks for stopping. Really. Come look me up later, and we’ll grab a bite to eat or something, huh?”
Connor stopped in surprise and looked back at the man. He didn’t really know if he felt any better about the grim warning, but at least he didn’t seem to hate him for earlier. “Okay, that sounds like fun.” He said with a small smile. “You can tell me more spooky Ghost stories.” He joked, trying to shake off the nervousness he was feeling. “See you later.” He offered up a small wave before he turned to continue walking, still trying to ignore the sense of dread forming a rock in his stomach.
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Hob wandered aimlessly for some time about the hallways of the Copernicus, pausing only long enough to defy regulations one more time by turning off his handheld. He was in deep enough of a funk that talking to anyone was a bad idea. There was a faint regret at going off on Dr. Brock, the man wasn't a bad guy by any means. Only there had been too many authority figures all at once for the NI-tech to cope with, too many people who had control over his body and life regardless of any protests he might have had. Less than a day out of stasis and all of the anger at his situation had come bubbling back. It was just as fresh as when Hob had been frozen, along with the added zest of six years worth of nightmares sprinkled on top like sprinkles on a cupcake. Back on earth, Hob had not been overly anti-authoritarian. Now? He grimly pondered how far he might go if they pushed too much. Open airlocks in select areas? Back the plumbing up? Nothing horrible or devastating but a definite show of force that would... that would...
... that would simply be more detrimental in the long run. Hob's heart felt heavy in his chest as his mind chewed over the inevitable outcome once more. It was hardly as if this had been the first time such thoughts had come to mind. An act of rebellion such as he was pondering would only make things worse for the remaining NI-techs, not to mention for himself if and when they finally yanked him out of the system! Command had to be certainly aware of what damage a rouge NI-tech could do and no doubt had back-ups plans and emergency procedures in place already, and it was probably why they spent a great deal of time keeping the dis-satisfied human interfaces repressed. The only way for them to keep control of the techs, Hob suspected, was either to keep them beaten down and suppressed or to pamper them. In a ship where luxuries were limited, the former option seemed to have been the one preferred. After all, there was a great shortage of carrots. The military, on the other hand, had a fair share of sticks and the knowledge and will to use them.
The only possible way Hob could see any protest succeeding would be if all the NI-techs took a stand at once, occupying all of the NI-tubes that they could with the others guarding them. Unified, Command would have to bend! What choice would they have?! And that, Hob felt, was the real reason that Harris and everyone in the chain above her kept the NI-techs separated. Bringing them out all at once would solve a great many manpower problems! They could put a forth person in on each shift or, better still, have rotating schedules and shifts that allowed for crossover! Then the NI-techs wouldn't have to be logged in for more than four hours at a time as Psyche was now requiring, and the they could get a decent amount of time for sleep! Hob could see it in his mind so clearly! Fours in, four hours out to deal with various medical exams and follow-ups and debriefings, four hours in again, and then twelve hours downtime! But thawing out all of the available techs would be too dangerous from the military's point of view. The threat of the abused (and basically enslaved) human processors rising up was too great.
Feeling defeated, Hob approached the door to his NI-chamber. No doubt his handlers were already inside, preparing everything for his arrival. After staring at the door for several moments, the disaffected artist moved to the side and slide down to sit with his back against the wall. He wasn't all that sure he could bring himself to report for duty. Closing his eyes, he rested his elbows on his knees and let out a long slow breath.
What no one seemed to understand, he mused, was that as humiliating as being stripped down and wired up to be inserted like a spark plug, it was being taken out of the system that truly hurt. Who would ever willingly want to be yanked out of Heaven and tossed back into Hell even once, not to mention over and over and over again? In the end, that was the hardest part to deal with.
... that would simply be more detrimental in the long run. Hob's heart felt heavy in his chest as his mind chewed over the inevitable outcome once more. It was hardly as if this had been the first time such thoughts had come to mind. An act of rebellion such as he was pondering would only make things worse for the remaining NI-techs, not to mention for himself if and when they finally yanked him out of the system! Command had to be certainly aware of what damage a rouge NI-tech could do and no doubt had back-ups plans and emergency procedures in place already, and it was probably why they spent a great deal of time keeping the dis-satisfied human interfaces repressed. The only way for them to keep control of the techs, Hob suspected, was either to keep them beaten down and suppressed or to pamper them. In a ship where luxuries were limited, the former option seemed to have been the one preferred. After all, there was a great shortage of carrots. The military, on the other hand, had a fair share of sticks and the knowledge and will to use them.
The only possible way Hob could see any protest succeeding would be if all the NI-techs took a stand at once, occupying all of the NI-tubes that they could with the others guarding them. Unified, Command would have to bend! What choice would they have?! And that, Hob felt, was the real reason that Harris and everyone in the chain above her kept the NI-techs separated. Bringing them out all at once would solve a great many manpower problems! They could put a forth person in on each shift or, better still, have rotating schedules and shifts that allowed for crossover! Then the NI-techs wouldn't have to be logged in for more than four hours at a time as Psyche was now requiring, and the they could get a decent amount of time for sleep! Hob could see it in his mind so clearly! Fours in, four hours out to deal with various medical exams and follow-ups and debriefings, four hours in again, and then twelve hours downtime! But thawing out all of the available techs would be too dangerous from the military's point of view. The threat of the abused (and basically enslaved) human processors rising up was too great.
Feeling defeated, Hob approached the door to his NI-chamber. No doubt his handlers were already inside, preparing everything for his arrival. After staring at the door for several moments, the disaffected artist moved to the side and slide down to sit with his back against the wall. He wasn't all that sure he could bring himself to report for duty. Closing his eyes, he rested his elbows on his knees and let out a long slow breath.
What no one seemed to understand, he mused, was that as humiliating as being stripped down and wired up to be inserted like a spark plug, it was being taken out of the system that truly hurt. Who would ever willingly want to be yanked out of Heaven and tossed back into Hell even once, not to mention over and over and over again? In the end, that was the hardest part to deal with.
Oh, gods.... Connor talking to Hob when he's in one of his moods... "So what was that again? About how the doctors can't make you do anything you don't want to??"
Although I can see the pair of them starting some sort of t-shirt anti-authoritarian revolution.
Although I can see the pair of them starting some sort of t-shirt anti-authoritarian revolution.
Kuro - sure! Devika and Hob are supposed to be running into each other shortly, near one of the NI-chambers actually. No reason Connor couldn't bump into him on the way!
Jack's smile grew just a touch broader at her wonder and her thanks, his real reward being just to watch her face light up in delight. He'd had a bit of a sense that Penny might be the sort to appreciate nature. Even if nothing else happened from that point on, even if she said she was tired and wanted to have a lie down or even had another date to go on, Jack would could this date as being successful.
"Glad you like it," he admitted a little sheepishly. "I were in a bit of a hobble about it. Mind you, after dis don't know rightly how t' top it!"
That was actually a bit of a lie. There were plenty of other places that were just as amazing in his opinion, or at least near enough to it that it made no difference, it was just that this place was his favorite.
Jack had no idea what sort of sea life might exist in New Canaan nor how those creatures they carried with them now would fit in to the strange ecosystem if at all! There was one place though that he loved above all others, one place he had deeply missed after his family had moved to Wyoming - the sea. The ship's central water supply and aquatic wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot! The smell wasn't quite right, for one thing. The air, while moist and baited with the aroma of fish, felt too still and stifled, not at all like the roaring winds or gentle breezes that had pushed his catboat along the coast. No sea salt spray splashed in his face and made him grin madly as the boat skipped over the waves. There was no rocky shore or pier for him to stand upon, no place here where Jack could close his eyes and listen to the sounds of the waves, wind, gulls, and harbor buoys. It was, however, the closest thing he could get to that gave him anywhere near the same feeling of being home. And for that, he would treasure it always as they journeyed to their new home.
He watched a number of cod flash by. Jack grinned at them like they were old friends passing by before he glanced back over at Penny. "You know? Soon as I sees you in dat kitchen, I t'tinks to m'self, Jack? Jack, I says. Dis woman here, being you, is some gear, b'y. An' if you don't ask her out, den yar're stunned something fierce. An' if you don't ask her what it is she likes t' put a hand to, or w'er' or not she likes cloggin' or scuffin', or who knits her, or if likes de fall of de year better dan de frost 'n' snow? Den you might as well been born on a raft, Jack, m'lad."
Very gently, surprisingly gently for a man with such calloused fingers and palms, Jack reached out with one hand and touched the back of Penny's own. It was just a brush, the lightest of touches. There was no denying, however, that he was asking for permission to hold her hand. "So you tells me all 'bout you, Duck... an' I'll shame the devil an' tells you 'bout me... 'n' maybe 'tween de jigs 'n' de reels we learn sumptin' new. Fair gunshot still to New Canaan, after all. Worse ways t' spend it den wit' a pretty face like you, I s'pose, b'y. Best kind, really."
"Glad you like it," he admitted a little sheepishly. "I were in a bit of a hobble about it. Mind you, after dis don't know rightly how t' top it!"
That was actually a bit of a lie. There were plenty of other places that were just as amazing in his opinion, or at least near enough to it that it made no difference, it was just that this place was his favorite.
Jack had no idea what sort of sea life might exist in New Canaan nor how those creatures they carried with them now would fit in to the strange ecosystem if at all! There was one place though that he loved above all others, one place he had deeply missed after his family had moved to Wyoming - the sea. The ship's central water supply and aquatic wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot! The smell wasn't quite right, for one thing. The air, while moist and baited with the aroma of fish, felt too still and stifled, not at all like the roaring winds or gentle breezes that had pushed his catboat along the coast. No sea salt spray splashed in his face and made him grin madly as the boat skipped over the waves. There was no rocky shore or pier for him to stand upon, no place here where Jack could close his eyes and listen to the sounds of the waves, wind, gulls, and harbor buoys. It was, however, the closest thing he could get to that gave him anywhere near the same feeling of being home. And for that, he would treasure it always as they journeyed to their new home.
He watched a number of cod flash by. Jack grinned at them like they were old friends passing by before he glanced back over at Penny. "You know? Soon as I sees you in dat kitchen, I t'tinks to m'self, Jack? Jack, I says. Dis woman here, being you, is some gear, b'y. An' if you don't ask her out, den yar're stunned something fierce. An' if you don't ask her what it is she likes t' put a hand to, or w'er' or not she likes cloggin' or scuffin', or who knits her, or if likes de fall of de year better dan de frost 'n' snow? Den you might as well been born on a raft, Jack, m'lad."
Very gently, surprisingly gently for a man with such calloused fingers and palms, Jack reached out with one hand and touched the back of Penny's own. It was just a brush, the lightest of touches. There was no denying, however, that he was asking for permission to hold her hand. "So you tells me all 'bout you, Duck... an' I'll shame the devil an' tells you 'bout me... 'n' maybe 'tween de jigs 'n' de reels we learn sumptin' new. Fair gunshot still to New Canaan, after all. Worse ways t' spend it den wit' a pretty face like you, I s'pose, b'y. Best kind, really."
Great post, Heroes!! Gavin's reaction was just perfect!!
Hob's smirk faded as he heard the sound of an older man's voice. Glancing up without moving his head, the NI-tech suppressed a groan. By the description he had of the man and by the man's reference to doctors, Hob quickly deduced exactly who it was that was sitting down with them. His eyes flickered back and forth between the two doctors as though debating the validity of the whole flight or fight response thing and which option might be called for in this situation. Grimacing, he set the sandwich down and gestured disgustedly towards the one of the two remaining chairs at the table, bitingly replying with, "A 'lasting' sentiment? No, not at all! After all, I have to die someday, so hardly lasting. Unless, of course, doctors find a way to keep me alive and conscious indefinitely against my will to power experimental technology. An infinite existence of migraines, nightmares, and sleep paralysis might make that sentiment 'lasting', I think."
Pausing to rub at his face and eyes, Hob clenched his jaw as he debated the likelihood that both the doctors he had been avoiding should just happen to show up in the cafeteria as he was sitting down to lunch. His brain gave him an answer that he didn't care for: not bloody likely. True, it was around lunch time and there was only one cafeteria. Only for both Brock and Park to come in less than a minute apart? And decide to sit down with the NI-tech who had been dodging his appointments with them? It was too much.
"Look," he sighed as he dropped his hands away from his face, "I'm sure you're a great guy, Doctor... Reverend... Park. You probably feed stray kittens and knit mittens for orphans in your spare time and everything. And, Doc, you're OLGA's father, so I'll give you some grace even if you've ignored her since waking up. But right now? I'm not in the mood to have my head scanned, my nervous system mapped, my thoughts analyzed, or my feelings explored! Bad enough my urine is sampled, my stool is scrutinized, my blood filtered, my flesh stuck about with sugar gel for monitoring leads, my schedule fucked with, my humanity ignored, and my personal wishes disregarded in the favor of making everyone else happy and justified in their jobs. I know my job is necessary, thank you, I know that my contribution and those of my fellow NI-techs are critical to the survival of the human race and that it is only because of our unique talents and, dare I say, God given gifts that we can do the things we do. That doesn't change the fact that-"
Motion behind Gavin Brock's back suddenly caught his attention, causing Hob to instantly stop and clamp his mouth shut with lips pressed firmly closed. Abigail Larson, chief of security for this Shift and with giant balls of brass. She was no bully like Harris, he felt, but nor did he for one moment believe that Larson would hesitate to do what she regarded as her duty. Despite her pleasant greetings, Hob sensed there was some tension behind her words, as though there was some minor unpleasant consideration that had escaped her notice and that she now had to deal with. Brock and Park choosing to sit with him out of nowhere might be chalked up to coincidence. Might Now that she was there, it was all too credulous a thing to assume they had purposely come for him all at once.
"Hob," he replied flatly. "My name is Hob. No one calls me 'Mr. Bach' or... 'Robert'." The distaste of the names nearly dripped off of the tongue.
"I'm sorry, I seem to have lost my appetite." And he had. As much as Hob had been looking forward to devouring the masterpiece that Penny had conjured up for him, the idea of remaining in the cafeteria any longer simply did not appeal to him. His stomach felt queasy, and he swore that he could feel each and every one of the thousands of near microscopic wires that had been threaded through his skull and brain. Sliding the sandwich with all of its trimmings towards Park, the NI-tech rose frostily. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure. I have to be on duty shortly."
With that, he rose and slowly left with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed. Running was out. Not because it wasn't dignified or because it could be seen as submissive, but because running attracted attention. If he ran, they might follow. Or send someone after him. Or worse. Hob knew it was rude to not really let either Brock or Park have their say to him, only he found that he really didn't care! He needed to be away from authority figures as quickly as possible. Hob wanted to be alone for a while, or at least in the company of people like Penny or that Jack fellow she went off with or Deli; they were folks who were normal, for a given value of normal anyways, and not people who had control over his life and body.
He paused in the hallway to examine his handheld, seeing he still had a little less than an hour before he had to report for duty. Feeling that it was pointless to try and get a nap, Hob trudged slowly towards his assigned NI-chamber by the most meandering route he could find.
Pausing to rub at his face and eyes, Hob clenched his jaw as he debated the likelihood that both the doctors he had been avoiding should just happen to show up in the cafeteria as he was sitting down to lunch. His brain gave him an answer that he didn't care for: not bloody likely. True, it was around lunch time and there was only one cafeteria. Only for both Brock and Park to come in less than a minute apart? And decide to sit down with the NI-tech who had been dodging his appointments with them? It was too much.
"Look," he sighed as he dropped his hands away from his face, "I'm sure you're a great guy, Doctor... Reverend... Park. You probably feed stray kittens and knit mittens for orphans in your spare time and everything. And, Doc, you're OLGA's father, so I'll give you some grace even if you've ignored her since waking up. But right now? I'm not in the mood to have my head scanned, my nervous system mapped, my thoughts analyzed, or my feelings explored! Bad enough my urine is sampled, my stool is scrutinized, my blood filtered, my flesh stuck about with sugar gel for monitoring leads, my schedule fucked with, my humanity ignored, and my personal wishes disregarded in the favor of making everyone else happy and justified in their jobs. I know my job is necessary, thank you, I know that my contribution and those of my fellow NI-techs are critical to the survival of the human race and that it is only because of our unique talents and, dare I say, God given gifts that we can do the things we do. That doesn't change the fact that-"
Motion behind Gavin Brock's back suddenly caught his attention, causing Hob to instantly stop and clamp his mouth shut with lips pressed firmly closed. Abigail Larson, chief of security for this Shift and with giant balls of brass. She was no bully like Harris, he felt, but nor did he for one moment believe that Larson would hesitate to do what she regarded as her duty. Despite her pleasant greetings, Hob sensed there was some tension behind her words, as though there was some minor unpleasant consideration that had escaped her notice and that she now had to deal with. Brock and Park choosing to sit with him out of nowhere might be chalked up to coincidence. Might Now that she was there, it was all too credulous a thing to assume they had purposely come for him all at once.
"Hob," he replied flatly. "My name is Hob. No one calls me 'Mr. Bach' or... 'Robert'." The distaste of the names nearly dripped off of the tongue.
"I'm sorry, I seem to have lost my appetite." And he had. As much as Hob had been looking forward to devouring the masterpiece that Penny had conjured up for him, the idea of remaining in the cafeteria any longer simply did not appeal to him. His stomach felt queasy, and he swore that he could feel each and every one of the thousands of near microscopic wires that had been threaded through his skull and brain. Sliding the sandwich with all of its trimmings towards Park, the NI-tech rose frostily. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure. I have to be on duty shortly."
With that, he rose and slowly left with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed. Running was out. Not because it wasn't dignified or because it could be seen as submissive, but because running attracted attention. If he ran, they might follow. Or send someone after him. Or worse. Hob knew it was rude to not really let either Brock or Park have their say to him, only he found that he really didn't care! He needed to be away from authority figures as quickly as possible. Hob wanted to be alone for a while, or at least in the company of people like Penny or that Jack fellow she went off with or Deli; they were folks who were normal, for a given value of normal anyways, and not people who had control over his life and body.
He paused in the hallway to examine his handheld, seeing he still had a little less than an hour before he had to report for duty. Feeling that it was pointless to try and get a nap, Hob trudged slowly towards his assigned NI-chamber by the most meandering route he could find.
DotCom said
Those things always seem to go on so much longer than I intend...
You... say this like it's a bad thing.
Great post, Dot! the interaction between Deli and Park is priceless!
(Chuckles darkly) Hey, Hob would love to get to know her better!
Post is up! And the real question is, who will stop Hob from so much as tasting that sandwich next?!
Post is up! And the real question is, who will stop Hob from so much as tasting that sandwich next?!
Hob watched the short couple wander out of the cafeteria arm in arm, and a bemused smile crossed his lips. He knew human nature well enough to have suspected this sort of thing. Humanity nearly extinct, the species would begin to look towards replenishing the countless lives lost on earth, and so it was of no surprise to him that people who barely knew each other were already going out on dates and the like. Heck, his boss's new assistant was already pregnant! That certainly hadn't taken long, at least not in the grand scheme of things. There was also the more personal matter of companionship. Who did you turn to when your whole world was just wiped out? Everyone had their sorrows, their stories, their losses; it was highly doubtful that there was a single person aboard, awake or asleep, who did not have a tragic tale to tell. All they had was each other now. One need probably arose as a factor out of the other, Hob pondered as he saw them slip away, although which resulted of which was difficult to tell.
Shaking his head, he turned back towards the full plate of delectable food that Penny had delivered unto him. The saliva formed just looking at it, and his stomach growled a bit in anticipation despite having an appetizer of cookies and milk. Preparing himself for an experience of celestial gastronomic delight, Hob reached for it-
When his communicator went off. Hob closed his eyes in frustration but reached for it all the same. Seeing that the message was from OLGA took away some of the irksomeness at being interrupted, and the message was eagerly read. HIs long fingers quickly tapped back a reply:
Pocketing his handheld back in his breast pocket, he congratulated himself on remembering that fact. The story around Dr. Cartwright and how he discovered how to safely bring someone out of cry-storage was gruesomely macabre and had stuck in his mind. He didn't fully understand the processes behind it, but the cryo-beds and the NI-tubes shared enough similar technology that Hob had paid closer attention than he otherwise would have.
OLGA taken care of for the moment, he began to reach out again to slide a pickle from the side as though he was removing a block from a game of Jenga-
When Doctor Brock slid into the chair across from him. Sighing, Hob leaned back in his chair and glowered at the man. So much for my good humor. "Touching my food may not be good for your health, Doc," he replied sourly. "A very nice young lady took the time to make this for me before she went on a date with a rather bizarre individual, a man who spoke a language that was almost entirely, but not quite wholly, unlike English. I would rather not see her time and effort wasted, so I feel it is my moral imperative to see that her sacrifice not go to waste."
Crossing his arms, Hob regarded Gavin for a split second before speaking again. "I don't suppose you're here because you're hungry, and not because I missed my routine, redundant, and completely un-necessary scan of my brain and nervous system? A scan, I will add, that you forgot to send me a reminder for. So if that is the reason that you're here, it's your fault, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. If in fact you did forget about the appointment, then I said nothing just now and I recommend the cookies and milk. I will tell you in strictest confidence that I'm also avoiding Park, if that helps. Nothing personal, I just don't feel like dealing with doctors, today. Or security. Just had another level of authority placed over my head, too."
He reached for the mound of meat piled high between the two slices of bread and this time managed to actually pick it up without being interrupted. Hob smirked at Brock as he prepared to eat the sandwich. "Have you talked to OLGA, yet? She gets pretty prickly when you ignore her for too long, you know." Wait, wait... She's crunching data right now that she's not supposed to be.... "Don't be surprised if she doesn't answer right away, I think she was a little miffed."
Shaking his head, he turned back towards the full plate of delectable food that Penny had delivered unto him. The saliva formed just looking at it, and his stomach growled a bit in anticipation despite having an appetizer of cookies and milk. Preparing himself for an experience of celestial gastronomic delight, Hob reached for it-
When his communicator went off. Hob closed his eyes in frustration but reached for it all the same. Seeing that the message was from OLGA took away some of the irksomeness at being interrupted, and the message was eagerly read. HIs long fingers quickly tapped back a reply:
Hob - Haystack. Big thing. Made of hay. All in a stack. They'll be plugging me into the system in about an hour, I can help more then. In the meantime, start with basics. Look up Dr. Jacob Cartwright, he's the hotshot who managed to figure out how to make cryo-stasis work without people melting into gooey puddles when they woke up. His own wife Prudence was the first successful test subject, I remember that from orientation. Eating lunch right now, but shout if there's anything else I can help with in the meantime?
Pocketing his handheld back in his breast pocket, he congratulated himself on remembering that fact. The story around Dr. Cartwright and how he discovered how to safely bring someone out of cry-storage was gruesomely macabre and had stuck in his mind. He didn't fully understand the processes behind it, but the cryo-beds and the NI-tubes shared enough similar technology that Hob had paid closer attention than he otherwise would have.
OLGA taken care of for the moment, he began to reach out again to slide a pickle from the side as though he was removing a block from a game of Jenga-
When Doctor Brock slid into the chair across from him. Sighing, Hob leaned back in his chair and glowered at the man. So much for my good humor. "Touching my food may not be good for your health, Doc," he replied sourly. "A very nice young lady took the time to make this for me before she went on a date with a rather bizarre individual, a man who spoke a language that was almost entirely, but not quite wholly, unlike English. I would rather not see her time and effort wasted, so I feel it is my moral imperative to see that her sacrifice not go to waste."
Crossing his arms, Hob regarded Gavin for a split second before speaking again. "I don't suppose you're here because you're hungry, and not because I missed my routine, redundant, and completely un-necessary scan of my brain and nervous system? A scan, I will add, that you forgot to send me a reminder for. So if that is the reason that you're here, it's your fault, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. If in fact you did forget about the appointment, then I said nothing just now and I recommend the cookies and milk. I will tell you in strictest confidence that I'm also avoiding Park, if that helps. Nothing personal, I just don't feel like dealing with doctors, today. Or security. Just had another level of authority placed over my head, too."
He reached for the mound of meat piled high between the two slices of bread and this time managed to actually pick it up without being interrupted. Hob smirked at Brock as he prepared to eat the sandwich. "Have you talked to OLGA, yet? She gets pretty prickly when you ignore her for too long, you know." Wait, wait... She's crunching data right now that she's not supposed to be.... "Don't be surprised if she doesn't answer right away, I think she was a little miffed."
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