1964-09-12 - MacBeth
Summary: …and then becomes a person. And knows friends of friends.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
douglas warlock 

It's fairly late in the evening, and after labor day, Coney Island starts to slow down a bit. Nothing's quite boarded up yet, but the slight chill in the air has most heading home early. The kids are back in school, so fewer are allowed to linger late on the boardwalk. Kellan and Kaleb, however, have no such curfews, and so the two are strolling along talking and enjoying some late-season hot dogs, taking a break from all the things just to roam around like they used to before life got super crazy. "I covered for you for three classes. You owe me at least a double-scoop for that," Kellan says.

There's a chair. It doesn't really match any of the other chairs: its all chrome and bronze and kinda intricate. Maybe a work of art, with all these designs on it. Someone even put what looks vaguely like eyes and a mouth on the back of it. The chair sits there. The chair is just a chair. The chair absolutely did not blink.

Kaleb was grinning with amusementwobbling his head back and forth as if considering it. "Yeaaaaaah I can owe you that. Would it help if I promised the time off was well spent?" He bit into his hotdog and used his ability to talk for him while he chewed //* So long as you're not goign to two scoop withthe hotdog. I've seen a lot of crazy things but Mitsy Reikland? You weren't there but she did a hotdog sunsae. Sadly this was no euphamism. The whole desert looked positivly horrifying. But after this we can grab ice cream. I kinda want a shake anyways."

Kellan smirks and says, "No. But the icecream will help." He grins then and takes another bite of his hot dog as they walk along. Looking over at Kaleb he says, "I'm not going to use the hot dog to eat the icecream." Then he notices the chair. There's a chair, just, randomly on the boardwalk, and it's a pretty fancy chair. He pauses and glances around, as though trying to figure out if the chair belonged with something else. "That's kinda neat. Think some artist left it out here?"

Warlock is supposed to be sort of incognito when he's away from Douglas: he's not supposed to show off. He's supposed — well, he kinda forgets sometimes. The chair speaks: that mouth design moves and sound comes out. "Query. How is it that sustenance can instill emotion designated 'horror'?" The chair grins. "It is understandable that sustenance might feel horror at the concept of being eaten, if sustenance is sentient, but self is given to understand that on this planet sentients are not consumed." The grin fades into a frown, "Disapproving. Self can not allow the consumption of sentients."

Kaleb still had a lopsided grin and nodded agreement to his twin when his interest swiveled to teh funky painted chair. That was iiiinteresting. When it spake though Echo stopped. He looked to teh chair and back to Kellan wide-eyed. "Okay did you just… figure out how to use my ability and," he put his free hand to make air quotes, "make teh chair talk, or did you just seriously brain-jack me and made me think you did. Either way? I am super proud of you right now. Also? That's creepy."

When the chair talks, Kellan smirks at Kaleb and slugs him in the arm, just assuming that it was Kaleb doing it, until Kaleb seems to think he did it. Then Kellan just looks confused. "Hey, I didn't do anything. You're the ventriloquist." He then glances back at the chair, studying the frowning face. Then he looks around some more, as though looking for someone else who might be controlling the motion of the chair, like a puppeteer of some sort. "Though now that you mention it, I might have to do that the next time you tell someone that you're me."

The chair… changes. The seat bends up so its on just its hind 'legs, and the seat merges with the back. The front legs bend sideways, even as the whole thing just begins going through a more profound series of changes. The surface ripples with mechanisms and shapes as it rises to the height of a man, but slender. It looks for all the world like a robot-man with tendrils as dreadlocks. The same bright yellow eyes and mouth are there, though. "Appeal. Confirm to self that it is not your intent to consume sentients, for self can not allow that and will take whatever measures are needed to restrict this behavior."

Kaleb rocked sideways withthe slug to the arm to soak the impact of the friendly jab. He had to give Kellan that one "Yeah um… definiately…try that…" His look said it for him: what the ever living heck is happening here? And then there was a robot. Okay it was looking at Kaleb like eating a hot dog was murder. Which it was technically. Not presently, but technically. He blinked. "Kellan? So we're clear this is not me doing that." He looked at the hotdog and back to the robot and held the last stub of it out to him to show him, look pal it's not moving.

Kellan just kind of stares. He holds his hot dog loosely enough, forgetting that it is in hand, that it almost slides right out of the paper boat that it sits in. He catches it, rights it, and then wiggles it at the thing. "This? It's a hot dog. It's not sentient. It's not even alive. We don't eat people, if that's what you're asking." He glances over at Kaleb. Is that what it's asking? That's what it seems like it's asking. "What are you?" Because clearly, a chair, it is not.

Relaxing, Warlock looks around, and…shrinks. It just sorta folds in on itself and becomes about half its size, and then retreats towards shadows, but his yellow glowing eyes are visible as he looks between the two. "Pleased. Self thanks you for confirmation." This next question has him pausing a moment, "Designation. Self is Technarch of the planet Kvch, though the Technarchy would not consider self to be member of their race, for self is mutant. Self is studying Humanarchy." Pause, "Self comes in peace. Aggrieved. Self understands if you are suspicious, for the Technarchy does not know concept 'peace', and it is natural for all that is sentient and organic to fear the Technarchy. Hopeful greeting. Self is designated Warlock."

Kaleb blinked an worked on processessing all of that. Finally he looked to Kellan with that look that was equal parts: the talking scooter did not jsut call me a human did it? and BRO, ALEINS ARE really really real! Which he knew… a little personally, but that still didn't make it any less startling. He blinked and ate his hot dog. He was letting Kellan take point on this one.

Kellan kind of looked at Kaleb, and read much of what that look implied without needing words or even to read his mind. He then looked back at where Warlock had slipped back into the shadows, the yellow eyes still visible. "Oh, hey, it's cool. You come in peace, we come in peace." He takes in the rest of the information for a moment and then says, "Truth be told, I don't know anything about the Technarchy. But I'm Kellan, and this is my brother Kaleb." He gestures toward the silent one. "Welcome to Earth, I guess." He grins a little lopsidedly.

There is a pause. And the shadow that is Warlock rises, and there is motion in the shadows— but what steps out of the shadow is… a guy. A big guy, for sure, but a guy. He looks completely human. With simple clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. There's something similar in the grin to that of the robot's grin. Of course, his blending in fails the moment he speaks. "Astonished declaration. Self does not know how it is possible; self-friend Doug did not know about the Technarchy, either." He shakes his head, "Self-sire Magus, lord of all Technarchy, does not know of Humanarchy, but that is to be expected because you are still alive." The tone turns grave at that. "Greetings. Self has learned of 'brother', recently. You share same sire and dam, self is given to understand." He hesitates, "Self does not have 'brother'. For a sire of self's power, outcome of offspring is that either sire or self is killed by other so there can be no rival. So there can be no sibling. Self did not wish to kill self-sire. So self fled." There's a bit of sheepish, "Self accidentally ran into moon. Self promises, damage minimal."

Kaleb stayed very quiet. This was calling for an ability to 'people' whiiiiich was by far and large much more Kellan's bag of cats. One eyebrow went up up and he said of his genetic copy(s), "Ummm yeah if the Technarchy comes down here and expects me to kill my brother they're going to have abig problem with grave disappointment."

Okay, the fact that a guy just walked out of the shadows seems to be almost more disturbing than the chair/robot, and Kellan takes a moment to just study him. Then he looks over at Kaleb and smirks. "Yeah, let's not think about that too much." But then he turns back to Warlock and says. "Well, we don't do that here." Then he says, "So you have a friend here? That's good. This friend helping you figure out how things work here on Earth?" He still can't get over the fact that Warlock looks like a regular human now. "Can you turn into anything?" he asks, "And you can get bigger and smaller too? If you can be a chair, can you be something complicated like a car or a train? Or really tiny like a bug?" There go the questions.

"Shock. When…" The tone of 'when' is so absolutely certain it doesn't even have hesitation to it, is Warlock's reply to Kaleb, "…the Technarchy comes here, they will expect nothing of you but to be raw material for the Technarchy to consume." He frowns, "Self will not allow this, but it will be difficult." Then Kellan washes over him in questions, and he blinks, "Explanation. Self is a techno-organic being, like all Technarchs, capable of taking any form one wishes. Self was a spaceship for several months as self fled from self-sire, before self bounced off of moon. Self's was a car for Doug, two days ago. Self liked being a car: self BEEPed to get attention of winged-human." This seems a point of some embarassment. Though that means he turned into a spaceship *capable of FTL flight*, if one puts two and two together. "Self-friend Doug has told self that there is a place here for mutants that may offer help to self."

Kaleb was just watching with juxtaposed detachment and intense curiosity as Warlock shifted. Absently he answered Kellan, "Yeaaaaah you'd totally win that one too." 4 on 1 was never good odds for Kaleb Miller. It was the shared collective of 80 questions that gripped Kaleb's attention making him look alive and human ish. Man Kellan asked the best questions and it was no coinsidence that it was all teh stuff he wanted to know. "oooh yeah can you do a tiny bug?" He was still hung up on bugs this month for whateve reason. "Hey, your friend Doug wouldn't be super good at languages would he?" He paused at 'winged himan' "Winged hman? They weren't red were they?" He paused and many thoughts started to cram into his head, "You managed to not hit him though right? Cause that sounds like our roommate Jay. Query, did winged human self designate as 'Jay'?" Oh leave it to Kaleb to figure out how to talk like a robot.

There's definite fascination from Kellan as he listens to Warlock and then a laugh when Kaleb starts to mimic the robot's speech patterns to talk back to him. He doesn't, himself, but he finds it vastly entertaining that Kaleb is trying to speak Warlock's "language" as it were. "That is so cool," he grins broadly as he mulls over the possibilities of what that means as far as shepshifting goes. "So wait, but you can mimic organic life too, like us. Can you mimic animals and stuff too? I'd guess so. That's crazy." Then he looks over at Kaleb as he seems to recognize who Warlock might be referring to, and he looks back toward Warlock, curious if it turns out that they know who he's talking about.

Warlock inclines his head, "Elaboration. Self can be very small, but it is dangerous. Smaller is easier to damage, larger is harder. Smaller is *weak*. The Technarchy knows only one thing: power. The Technarchy does not have emotions, save ambition." He inclines his head again, after that, "Confirmation. Winged-human designation 'Jay' with red wings. Confirmation. Self-friend Doug has remarkable ability to communicate: he learned Technarch language when self crash-landed and knew no one and he found self. Without self-friend Doug, self would be lost and alone." There is deep feeling in his voice at this. He doesn't have this 'no emotions' issue. He looks to Kellan, "Self is techno-organic being: self is as much organic as technology. Self is the transmode virus; as self understands it humanarchy is defined by D. N. A., but Technarch is defined by transmode virus. The virus infects organic material and converts it into a techno-organic hybrid, and then self incorporates it. Self…" he gestures to his chest, "..remains 'techno', but hidden within outward appearance. Self was dog once. Query. Should self be dog? Self enjoys barking and wagging tail." He sounds almost gleeful for a moment. He will totally be the best dog *EVER* if someone asks him to be.

Kaleb listened to the description of these beings and aksed Kellan, "we sure I'm not related to thesethings?" There was a faint grin. In truth his ambition was low. He even wanted to be an architect to make other people do the building. "Awww man that explains what Jay was on about." He blinked to Kellana nd offered, "Well at least we know Jay's …mostly mostly okay. "Look, Warlock, if you achieve great fulfillment in expressing self-shape dog, the proceeddirectly to shape self dog and proceed with maximum contentment. Query yeilds amicability with humanoids present undiminished." One might hink Kaleb was having too much fun with this.

Kellan looks over at Kaleb and smirks just a little bit, shaking his head. "Pretty sure that you are all organic, considering how often you get damaged." He gives his brother a little bump with his shoulder. Then he just stares at Kaleb and laughs a little. Looking back toward Warlock he says, "If you like being a dog, be a dog. You can totally bark and wag your tail. Can you still talk as a dog? I'd figure so if you can talk as a chair.." He answers his own question with that one.

"Self enjoys doing what makes others happy. Self desires for others to find self brings happiness. That is why self-sire wishes to kill self. Self is a mutant. Self feels." Warlock answers simply, and with an honesty that is either completely sincere or utterly fake. There's no possibility between the two. But he looks to Kellan, "Tech can be damaged. But while dogs can not talk, self can configure throat-vocal regioni to allow speaking. Self is as self wills." That said, he looks away, "Self-friend will be looking for self." And with that he just…crumples. There's no blood, despite for a moment looking like he's being crushed. From up to down it collapses up, but in moments, what looked like skin looks like machinery folding in and on and around itself, reshaping into… a little helicopter. "Farewell. Self must attend self-friend." And he zips off.

Kaleb feigned a wince at the stark truth to that. He had to laugh, "I'd suggest maybe I was cheaply manufactured but we know that sure as hell isn't strue." Not withthe way he dressed. Drily he comisserated to Warlock, "Funny, some tell me I'm a mutant because I don't." It was not entirely true. It was somewhat true, but he found humor in the satire. "Hey, tell Doug we said hey. He should come out with us more. He was groovy. You should come with." He looked to Kellan and said putting the soundin Kellan's ear only, "We already got a bird. We can't take Doug's dog."

Kellan chuckles a little bit and grins at Kaleb, then he looks to Warlock and says, "It was nice to meet you, Warlock. Say hi to Doug for us," he echoes Kaleb, watching with fascination as Warlock transforms once more and zips away. "Oh come on, I wasn't going to steal anyone's friend, but tell me that having a talking robot dog for a little while wouldn't be one of the coolest things ever?" He grins, and then finishes off the remainder of his now-cold hot dog. "C'mon. You still owe me a cone."

Kaleb laughed and sling his arm around Kellan's shoulders, "Aww but you got a robot for a brother already. It would be cool and I do owe you two scoops in a cone." He considered and offered, "We should bring some back for Jay and Vic." He walked back down the parkway like that a bit and finally admitted, "Okay yeah it'd be way neat, but it would have to play well with the ottter because something tells me if I agree to us getting a dog someone may go back to wanting an otter."

The library. The Repository of the Knowledge of the Humanarchy. The prospect of checking it out is rather high up on Warlock's interest level, and yet, here he has to be very careful. That means looking human: and letting Douglas do the talking if anyone is nearby who might hear him and not be a friend. As his human form is rather on the tall, dark and broody looking side— even though he's in no way actually broody— he has to lean over to murmur to Doug when a Person wanders away, "Intrigued Query. Is this the repository of all the humanarchy's knowledge?"

"Well, not all of it." Doug says. "Think of a library as a node, where you can access communication, and if you want something they don't have, they'll check their records for a place that might have it and then send out for it. That said, there is a LOT of knowledge in this particular library. Millions of books, newspapers, other materials. I could spend my entire lifetime here and not experience all the knowledge contained in this one place." Doug walks along, and says, "Good choice with your look by the way. Those girls are watching you." He smirks. "Anyway, what would you like to learn about today?"

The compliment has Guylock grinning, though he clearly doesn't get the significance of why girls watching him is good. Though surprise does show on his features, "Astonishment. Even self-friend Doug with his advanced communication interface can not contain all of the knowledge in even one node?" Pause, "Even an impressive node?" He shakes his head slowly, considering the question, "Self would learn history and development of dominance-structure here. Who has power and rules? And how does this get chosen? Self understands humans do not follow power, but to rule one has power. Self does not understand."

"That's not completely true," Doug says, "But hypocrisy is an advanced idea contingent on understanding some other, kind of disappointing stuff about humans. We'll get there." He pats Warlock on the arm, and then says, "Let's see… a way to teach you about humans and human emotions in a way that you'd understand." He snaps his fingers. "I know!" He says. He makes his way into the stacks, and finally comes to the Shakespeare collection. "William Shakespeare was the greatest playwright who ever lived. Even though he was writing to live, his plays run the gamut from comedy to tragedy to attempts to portray history in an entertaining way. You know, like that movie Ben-Hur?" He taps his chin. "No, we'll get to Romeo and Juliet after we've mastered sarcasm. And Merchant of Venice after racism. Power?" He puts his finger on copy of 'Macbeth'. "Bingo."

Now that they're away from The Girls, Warlock leans towards Doug again and whispers, "Concern. Self intended this form as a means going incognito, as self usually draws… attention. Self failed in this?" Warlock then follows, and he nods quickly with a grin at mention of Ben-Hur, "Self understood the dominance-structure of that movie well." Pause, "Reasonably well." He shrugs, looking sheepish, "Cataloguing. Hypocracy, sarcasm, racism; topics for advanced inquery." He then looks to the chosen book, "Playwright. A person who writes plays. Plays. Dramatic re-enactments of fictional content to tell a moral story." He grins, "Yes, self believes self-friend — wait." He rounds on Doug, "Replaying. Disappointing stuff about humans? Self-friend has shown humans to be the most special species in all of the universe! Has self not told you about the Technarchy enough?"

"No, Warlock, your human form is—physically attractive. The girls thought you were cute." Doug gives a big grin. Then he says, "Warlock, humans are — complicated. We do many, many terrible things. Humans have killed millions of other humans because what they believed, or their race offended them, or just because we wanted their land, or their power. That's what this play is about — power, and the people who want it, and what they'll do to get it." He cracks it, and says, "Now if you have any questions about any words, or what people are doing, you just say stop and we'll talk about it. The story begins with three *witches*, you know, like from the Wizard of Oz? Meeting in a dark place." He clears his throat. "When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?" He changes his voice a bit, indicating someone else is talking. "When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and won…"

Warlock pauses, considering. "Clarification. The girls wished to reproduce with me?" He finds the thought a little alarming, but considering what reproduction means to the Technarchy, "… Self could not be sure self-offspring would share self's mutation; producing offspring would be unwise. Self does not wish to kill self-offspring anymore then he wished to kill self-sire. And self-sire was, self believes correct human word is, 'a bastard'." Still, he frowns, trying to reconcile Humans Doing Bad Things with self-friend, but he just accepts it as something to think on. "The Wizard was a fab— oh. The witches. Yes, witches." And he goes off to listen, interrupting from time to time to define words, but listening attentively.

Doug is grinning. But then he goes back to reading the play, that dark tale of ambition and treachery and murder. Macbeth's hesitance, Lady Macbeth's ambition, his growing madness and greed as she crumbles under the gnawing weight of a conscience that caught up to her too late. The murder of children. The clever wordplay of the witches. The final battle. Till Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane. What they meant by 'Not of woman born' and how that was actually Shakespeare 'cheating' a bit by using a technicality to satisfy a prophecy.

Some things Warlock understands easily: ambition, treachery, murder. What he has difficulty is the reasons *why*, the human reasons. Ambition, treachery and murder are second nature to the Technarchy, and though Warlock doesn't think like them he has the knowledge of them. Madness? Madness takes the longest to explain — at first, Lock is convinced that the only way to understand madness is his own mutation. He must be mad. He's almost insistant upon it. But he subsumes. Listens. At the end he seems … a little disturbed, "Query. On Kvch, power is its own reason. It is the whole of reason. Ambition is not considered a … vice … it is nature. For humans the murder of children is not… 'sane'… while for Technarch it is the the only possible response to rival. Self does not understand this aspect of human condition. Why?"

"Because humans grow old and die, Warlock. Children are our… continuation. They make sure the human race keeps going." Doug sits back, and says, "All humans grow old, and eventually their bodies stop working. Every human you've ever met is going to get old and die. It's just a fact of us being alive. Children are precious, partially for that reason. When you kill someone's children, you're killing their future." He puts his hand on the book, and gives Warlock a sad look, "And deep in the human genome, we know that's… wrong. So to do something like kill a child… it's madness. Lady Macbeth was fine with killing the king, the people who could've opposed her husband, but she drew the line at killing the children, even though one day they might've grown up to stand against them."

Warlock is silent for a very long moment. "Consideration. Lady Macbeth was not as … beyond control, as she seemed. She suffered a rival to live." Of course, 'Lock would never kill a rival. But that's an emotional response to him that is alien to his knowledge of what should be. "Does this mean she was not completely mad? Or… self is not sure. Human motivations are far more complex and nuanced then the motivations of the Technarchy. Self understands killing the king. Self would not do it. But self understands why she would. But, knowing that, she should have killed the children." He purses his lips, "But it is in your virus— no, your D.N.A.— to preserve your future because you will all die. Ambition to a point is understandable: but there are limits. These are your… morals?"

"We try to figure these things out." Doug says, putting his hand on Warlock's shoulder. "But they're hard, and not always easily understood. Sometimes other people's actions make it seem like we have no choice but to do terrible things, like kill people or fight wars. Sometimes we do unwarranted things because we're afraid or, because of predjudice. Humans are—messy." Doug says, quietly. "And some of us are very, very bad. Remember how I told you about William Stryker? He preaches that Mutants are tainted by evil, that we need to be destroyed. His heart is full of hate. He's… mad."

"Self does not understand hate." Warlock frowns a little more at that, and still, not quite getting madness, clearly. "Self understands anger, dislike. But when self-friend speaks of hate— that others, always, feel; self does not believe self-friend can be tainted by this flawed emotion— when others speak of hate, it is with an intensity… Self does not hate self-sire who wishes for nothing in the cosmos but self's own death." He shrugs, helplessly. But he nods slowly, "Self thinks of human designate William Stryker as almost like self-sire." He looks to Doug for a long moment, troubled, "Self would not, save for in the extreme where no other possible action could save a another sentient, end a sentient that threatened the first. And if self would do that self does not know if self could survive the doing. Self does not understand how… it is hard. There is a choice: it is the easiest of all choices self has ever made. To not kill."

Doug pauses… and then looks to Warlock. "Self-friend… you are a better person than a lot of human beings." He sighs, and sets the book down, and moves to wrap his arms around Warlock. He hugs him, warmly, and rests his head on his shoulder. "You're a good person, Warlock. Human beings… are not always good people. And even I have my moments. But you? You make me want to be the best person I can be. There's nothing I dread more than the thought of disappointing you."

Warlock returns the hug just as warmly; hugs were alien to him but he has figured them out and skilled up to a high level, and he approves of them. Even if he's a little more awkward in them as a person-shape then a robot-shape. "Self-friend Doug is a good person: self can conceive of no situation in which self-friend would be disappointing. Self may or may not be a good person, but self has learned what it is to be a good person from self-friend. Self is self, self-friend is Doug. Together we will be good people."

"Oh, Warlock." Doug says. He maybe sniffles a little bit. "…You haven't met drunk Doug." It's true. Doug barely touches alcohol. There's a reason for it. "Now, let's keep reading."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License