TWO: ROUND-TRIP
This document is subject to standard recontextualization procedure. Contact your assigned Records envoy for more details.
INCIDENT REPORT: OVERLOAD-CLASS ENTITY
CASE ID: 102E-8
STATEMENT OF PURPOSE: [Available only to Coherence or above.]
UNDERSTANDINGS: – Main entity body is constructed from various synthetic polymers (acrylonitrile-butadiene-styrene, polypropylene, polystyrene, ...). – Entity is primarily orange and black, with yellow, pink, and white present on faux facial structure. – Entity contains copper wrapped in semi-rigid polyvinyl chloride linking its two bodies. – Upon removal of upper entity body, facial structure morphs to reveal white with black dots. – Lower entity body contains a depressed insert to fit upper entity body. – Upper entity body contains various black squares, each of which can be depressed for production of tactile sensation. – Entity has been subject to environmental decay (see bulletin 080A-1). – Entity contains green composite materials made of woven fiberglass and epoxy resin binder, lined with copper and various unknown components. – Inner green plate contains various strips of copper linking other pieces of unknown purpose. – Cylindrical pieces of unknown purpose contain aluminum, unknown insulation, and two connections to green plate. – Cylindrical pieces with two end caps of unknown purpose contain carbon mixture lined with unknown protective coating. – [Further details removed for brevity.]
BRIEF: Temporary Retrieval team . . . . . . 008 was assembled and dispatched to entity location for further inquiry, comprised of His Tragicality and Her Emptiness. Seventeen ticks were spent between dispatch and arrival at entity location — routine tick checks revealed no abnormalities.
Upon vessel arrival, computing identified the Overload-class entity in question but failed to process it in full (see UNDERSTANDINGS), resulting in Retrieval team failing to identify coordinates beyond vague location. Conveniently, Retrieval team found a hexagonal spire (later identified by Coherence as a “light-house”, see 102E-6) that provided an overview of the area, which resulted in the Retrieval team's detection of the presence of the Overload-class entity on planet surface.
Retrieval team failed to respond to requests for comment from Processing, a violation of procedure 107R-2. No disciplinary action is recommended at this time due to pertinence of mission statement (see STATEMENT OF PURPOSE), though the author notes that Her Emptiness has repeatedly failed to respond to comments from Processing while on Retrieval work.
Similar instances of the same Overload-class entity were found on planet surface, each having different levels of environmental decay, though none being in what is assumed to be perfect condition. Retrieval team continued along target line until encountering prohibitive incoherence, upon which they retreated (despite protocol 285R-1 — again, no disciplinary action is recommended, nor is it the opinion of the author that 285R-1 is a sane protocol).
Upon retreat, Overload-class entity was sent in parts to Processing via standard linking procedure. Entity needed to be segmented into 189 subentities for further processing, but was ultimately able to be examined (though at the cost of an exorbitant amount of compute clusters running on high). No direct meaning was found, though the entity has been tied to “felis catus domesticus” (see COHERENT HYPEROVERLOAD-CLASS ENTITY E-MEOW).
Investigation of entity found local linguistic information: “Tyco Industries Inc. 540 Glen Avenue, Moorestown, NJ 08057 ! ) ( % @ ! © 1978 United Feature Syndicate, Inc.“, which following processing from Linguistics was linked to local coordinates 39.9645473, -74.9661513.
Retrieval team was instructed to proceed to these coordinates, but once again declined any further contact beyond mere acknowledgement of the procedure — Her Emptiness appeared to have the author temporarily blocked (still true at time of writing), so contact had to be established with His Tragicality. His Tragicality was not interested in anything aside from necessary details for completion of the investigation's purpose.
Further investigation is requi dont want to work on this anymore TODO TODO TODO XXX MARK FOR LATER – THEIR CLEVERNESS
Minor chords of major works Separate rooms of single life – Codes and Keys, by Death Cab for Cutie
Elsie slouches back in their chair, slams their head down, and stops typing. At this point, they're used to this. How could they not be? The sheer level of incompetence with Retrieval teams, I swear to piss, they think to themself. No future for those clowns. It's just basic procedure, really — if Retrieval gets any word from Processing, they have to respond immediately except in dire circumstance given the potential importance of the information to be relayed. Given the shut up they got in that tone, the chances that this is an adequately described dire circumstance as present in bulletin 107R-2 is... well, 107R-1 has things to say about that, that's for sure. Not to be a stickler for paperwork. Really, when was the last time that Amry managed to pick up incoming communications? Her Emptiness's insubordination is difficult to punish, for sure, but the sheer regularity of the irregularity seems as if it would result in some kind of disciplinary action. It's less that Elsie wants that to happen, and more that they're scared that it will. I'm just looking out for you, they think. Oh well. It's not important, anyways, at least not this time. It just ruffles my feathers a bit. Elsie gets up from their chair and does a stretch, taking their wings and spreading them out as far as they can go. It ruffles the white feathers coating the wings' surface in the process. Their grey skin flexes slightly as a result, their bright red hair being caught by the resultant gust. Their purely black eyes, nary a pupil in sight, stare at the ceiling as they stretch their neck up. They close their eyelids, the individual bumps on their skin glistening under the overhead light as the lashes cast a shadow onto their face. They're wearing a bright green oversized t-shirt with a pattern of darker green concentric circles on the front. No bottom, though, their legs are almost entirely exposed to the elements. Their head is marked with a halo almost taking the shape of a crown. “You are aware that there remains no other work to be done this blink, yes? No need to add a flustered little coda.”, a voice says, its position difficult to trace. “GAAH FUCK!!!”, Elsie exclaims, the shock forcing their wings to fold into their back. “Regardless, Amry's behavior is... perhaps not excellent, but certainly explainable. It's a side effect of the way she was raised, I'm afraid.”, the voice says with a chuckle. “at least show yourself, pal, cut me some slack”, Elsie says, incredibly annoyed and performing a pouting face. “Nah.“ The voice fucks off. God damnit, Elsie thinks to themself. I don't need one of Marka's stupid little pranks right now, especially with something like this. I had a flustered flair about me? Maybe you should investigate your flair for the dramatic.
Regardless, before reporting to Coherence, Elsie decides that it's probably best to try and recharge after all the energy expended writing their report. They look around the room for something to do. To their left lies various flora, each scavenged from various local cultures on their Retrieval assignments. Surprisingly, not a single watering can is in sight: the entire operation is managed by a complex irrigation system implanted underneath the desk, siphoning the water up from a tub into the soil on each plant. The plants themselves are strange, almost indescribable. One even exhibits signs of prohibitive incoherence, its buds almost taking the form of television static. Elsie always takes at least one souvenir from each Retrieval mission. Except one. Regardless, the tank is running low, so Elsie opts to fill it up before it drains in full. Water is a scarce commodity, so they send a message to- wait, she won't respond, she has them blocked. Okay. They send a message to Sekri, establishing a link.
LINK: CLEVERNESS > TRAGICALITY > hellooooo sekri < yes? > so where are you at now < do you intend on wasting my time? < we are back in the vessel, navigating to your coordinates > its interesting that you say theyre my coordinates > its just on the actual thing, you know < you are being pedantic < what is your purpose, anyhow > oh, i was just wondering if the location youre at has any water < i have no idea < what are its understandings? > do you really not know that much? check E-SLURP < you want me to check a document when i can just ask you directly? < i am aware you are beholden to paperwork, as am i, but that seems excessive even for me > ok, fine, its blue, its liquid, its hydrogen mixed with oxygen, what else do you want < i am pretty sure that we do < would you like me to store some? > yes please! > i dont know if you know about the collection ive got going on, but its- < ok, i will do so. bye LINK TERMINATED
Oh for fuck sake. This guy sure is the life of the party, huh? Frankly, it's kind of absurd that he got such a communication-heavy position for this, and with Amry nonetheless. Two wrongs don't make a right, it just makes a... double-wrong. Some kind of double agony reacharound. Enough of that. Elsie looks for anything else to do. Around the room lies various failed experiments involving various esoteric, almost arcane old technology. Many of these ancient computing devices have died or decayed by now, their internals being more than worse for wear, but they swear they'll definitely fix all of them. Eventually. At the very least, it's nice to have a retro computing museum right next to the pod. Their actual computer in use is on a desk next to a standard brown chair. The back of it is coated in stickers, many of which don't appear to mean anything at all, but they say it's to make their machine theirs, despite the machine's objections or lack thereof. Various articles of clothing coat the floor, each of which have been thrown haphazardly off Elsie's body before they head to their pod. All of them take the same shape: t-shirts as far as the eye can see. They're all oversized, some of them alarmingly so. It's relatively obvious that they doesn't like wearing bottoms of any variety. Elsie heads over to one of the machines, the one lovingly labeled “PEAR ][“, and attempts to turn it on to see if they'd already made any adjustments — it's quite possible that they've forgotten entirely by now. Unsurprisingly, though, no dice. This machine hasn't worked for ages, and it's difficult to imagine it working now-
helloooooo
Seriously? Huh. Elsie heads over to the PEAR ][ and starts having a chat, setting themself down by its keys — the machine is significantly too old to use any form of dictation.
hello! when did you come back on line? I have no idea ha ha ha I totally should not be alive what the f*@k oh do you have expletives disabled that seems like a mistake probably let me just... ###### fuck oh joyous tick!! fuck fuck fuck fuck!! ahahahahaaa it feels as if I am doing mental cart wheels im happy for you! anyway, how is the rest of your maintenance going? I think I have enough resources to stay for a few more ticks a few more? I do not think my components are available anymore what a shame, really... you are such a wonderful piece of machinery I appreciate the compliment but also that does not help the material circumstance the one where I am dying horribly well i can see what i can do no promises okay can you turn me off now I should probably conserve resources alright
Elsie turns the Pear ][ off, and takes a look at its user manual. The scribbles therein are almost... well, it's difficult to describe. The writing is genuinely difficult to make out, the documentation therein likely being full of technobabble, but it's impossible to know regardless — this hasn't been subject to any kind of recontextualization. While the machine is still present, the manual itself is a bygone artifact from an era long past, one that Elsie can't make heads or tails of. Surely there's something they can do about this, though. Elsie decides to head to Records to see if there's an appropriately intelligible version of the manual. They leave the room, the door doing a suitable whoosh effect and sliding itself open, and traverse the labyrinthine halls of Cognis's interior. All things considered, the organization of this area is horrible, and it's a miracle that anyone can find anything. You'd think you'd need an entire Coherence officer just to get through the facility itself, the nature of it being ridiculously contrived. Maps coat the hallways with giant “YOU ARE HERE” buttons just to help anyone navigate the place. Each door is labeled, but a couple of sections are cordoned off due to their presence of labeling from one of the before-times. Not a hazard, per se, but deeply confusing at the very least, serving as obfuscation and not much else. Deconstruction takes time, after all, and we don't have all the time in the world. Eventually, Elsie makes it to Records's main reception, the door being appropriately labeled. There's nobody working the desk right now, but there are various gaping holes in the side wall, each ready to accept documents, objects, entities, et cetera. It's a shame, really. Elsie loves the idle workplace chatter that tends to happen here. The number of times they've gone here solely for the purpose of chatting up whatever receptionist's presently assigned has been enough to make some uncomfortable. But those who are usually don't tend to last long as receptionist regardless. Elsie places the manual into one of the holes in the wall, and it clasps shut, a small bit of goo making the door's closing a bit more labored than anticipated. Immediately, out spits a message. “NO ANALOGUE FOUND”. Well, shit. “That old thing?”, Marka says, entering the room. “STOP FUCKING DOING THAT”, Elsie screams, the hairs on their back standing straight up. “What, entering rooms unannounced? Some of us have work to do here too, you know.“ “look, i dont care who you are, i dont care what your rank or role is, i just dont like people sneaking up on my back“ “Mm. Any word from oh-oh-eight yet?“ “how do you even know about that“ “I was in the room with you when you were drafting that. Did you forget already?“ “you werent even in the fucking room, it was just you that was in the room”, Elsie says with a sarcastic flair. “if you actually read the document, though, youd know that amry has me blocked because shes too busy masturbating to grey boy yaoi, and sekris too...“ “Too Sekri.“ “you know i didnt want to be mean but youre entirely correct“ “Can Amry even masturbate?“ “ok you need to stop talking now“ Without saying a word, Marka does a little bow, the flames emanating from his form nearly singing the metals forming the room. His Pertinence clearly gets around a lot, though whether he stays is another question entirely. For a creature of light, it's imperative to stay in the shadows, the crackling embers of his flame providing an easy break from his self. But Elsie isn't thinking about that. Elsie's thinking about how to fix their computer. They look at Marka, and think about the things he's been through, the places he's seen. Maybe, just maybe... “can you read this manual?“ Marka fails to respond entirely, giving Elsie the blankest stare they've seen in their lifetime. “...you can talk“ “Grazie.“ “you can talk without using nonsensical coded words“ “That might as well be asking me to not emit a single peep.“ “okay smartass. can you read the manual“ “Technically, yes. The language inside it is archaic, but by all means it should not be particularly difficult to trace its origin. The script itself seems to remind me of... oh, I don't know, Sectoid?“ “dont care, yes/no question, can you do it“ “Wow, okay, fine. Give me a while.“ “i dont have a while, the poor things dying“ Marka sighs. “Why, exactly, do you care so incessantly about the continuance of your machines?“ “its the same as retaining anything, really. im sure you empathize with that at least“ This call to empathy gives Marka pause. What a fickle thing. Truly one of the emotions of all time. “Quite so. I will hand it over to Linguistics and have them handle the rest.“ “you arent in records, how do you have a beeline to linguistics?“ “:)“ “you literally cant make that face, why are you saying that face“ “:)”, Marka says, leaving the room without an explanation for his bureaucratic wormholes.
Elsie heads back to their room and looks around. They're nearly entirely out of things to do. In a sense, their dialogue tree has been exhausted. By all means, they could get back and tend to the flora or something, but they're all fine. It's fine. Maybe this is the peril of automating your entire life to hell. Maybe it's best to not confide in nothing but your computers, especially when most of them don't even power on anymore. Maybe it's best to get yourself a hobby that isn't finite. What do you even do anymore? You're not just going to let those thoughts eat at you, are you?
LINK: TRAGICALITY > CLEVERNESS
Oh shit.
> there's nothing here < what?