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[open] I need to learn to let go of the past
Who: Cammie & you!
What: Cammie dealing with some grief whilst trying to pretend she isn't and going about her routine
Where: Sleigh Room, communal relaxation area, training room, kitchen
When: December
Warnings/Notes: Inevitable discussion of child soldier stuff, mentions of climate disaster, discussion of child death, definite discussion of family death, other warnings in subject lines. (Obligatory note that Cammie's HoH/Deaf, her rabbit ears are her hearing aids.)
Sleigh Room
To most people, the way Cammie continues to throw herself into working on her Holon will probably seem like nothing but than a teenager with a good work ethic. Whenever she's out of basic maintenance tasks—and she is constantly finding more of those to add to the weekly routine—she's working on the jerry-rigged computers so she can better access her systems without being uploaded. Hardware, software, all of it.
But to people who know her better, or perhaps to people who do the same thing, Cammie is clearly distracting herself.
This isn't her favourite time of year. Not anymore.
Alright, it was never actually her favourite. Winters in Scotland were harsh things, all the years she lived there—deadly things, sometimes, with the way the polar vortex was breaking down—not the kind of snow you could play in. But there was joy in the holidays, anyway. The five years where all six members of her family were at home were good years. And then the twins died. And then her Mam. And then her dad. And then it was just her and her Gran until she got herself arrested and ended up in America.
They don't know exactly when her Gran went, too, but it was around this time of year and that hardly improved things.
So, Cammie does what Cammie does best: she buries herself deep in her work so that she doesn't start thinking about all the bad stuff. Never a foolproof plan, but good enough.
Visitors may or may not be noticed, depending on how deep in her hyperfocus on work she is at the time, but those who do get noticed without extra effort might be asked:
"Y'mind handing me that socket wrench?" or "Be a pal and toss me up those crisps?" or the like.
Training Room
There is a giant, mechanical rabbit in the training room. It's not an uncommon sight, actually; anyone who frequents the training room will have seen it in action at least once by now. Cammie's up here whilst uploaded just as frequently as she is in her human body, if not more.
She's yet to take the mech out on a mission. She feels... rusty. And so, she practices.
Leaps and flips and boosting herself so she can skate along the walls. Practising her aim, since her drones aren't functioning quite right just yet. Seeing how much of an advantage the mech gives her when handling the fearling swarms and getting covered in the red paint for her troubles.
If you look past the mech, you might spot the young Scot's flesh body tucked safely in a corner. For all intents and purposes she appears to be asleep; like she sat down against the wall and dosed off. Were it not for the mech, the only giveaway of anything unusual going on would be the small node attached to her temple: a white circle with tiny bunny ears protruding from the edge, and green blinking lights within it.
Communal Relaxation Area
Sat in front of a fire in a nest of pillows and her back against a couch, Cammie is fiddling with what appears to be a small robotic toy. Something a little more simplistic than the kind of thing she'd make back home, but not entirely dissimilar in its design principals to Nugget, who is paying very close attention to what his human is doing.
Every time she sets it down to pick something else up, the little guy keeps 'sniffing' it, or tapping it with one of his tiny feet. Cammie shakes her head at him. "Buddy. C'mon. You've got bloody nothin' to be gettin' all jealous about, I'm not replacin' you. Just pitchin' in with some toy ideas for the wee kiddies. I'd've loved gettin' somethin' even a little like you as a kid."
So would Maisie and Fergie, she's sure, but they hadn't got the money for all the best gadgets back then. Nugget was a personal project, and so were her ears. It was only after Mam and Dad were both gone and she dropped out of school to hack full time that she got all her best equipment.
Pulling a face, she visibly shakes the thoughts off and gets back to fiddling.
Kitchen
It's late. It's really late. Cammie's sleep schedule hasn't improved at all on this third leg of her multiversal journey, because why would it? The disruption of her routine is more than enough to set her back again each time and frankly, she's rarely made much progress in shaking the habit in the first place. Nightmares, workaholic tendencies, and good old fashioned poor choices have always been her frenemies.
It's more than that right now, though.
Cammie is attempting to make hot chocolate the old fashioned way, on a stove in the kitchens. She has all the ingredients and tools she needs, and she's already got a batch on the heat. She's never done it before, not properly. But this was how her Gran always used to make it, ever since she was just a wee babe. Cammie watched her do it so many times it's burned into her memory, and thanks to gen:LOCK she can go back and view those memories with unnatural clarity. She knows how to do it. In theory.
It still doesn't feel like it'll taste the same.
God, she misses her. She misses all of them. Mam, Dad, Gran, Maisie and Fergie—why is it just her still alive? Why did her Gran have to go and be so stubborn and get herself—
One rabbit ear twitches towards the sound of someone else in the room. Cammie scrubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand and swallows, so she can sound like she has her shit together. "Makin' more than enough for two, if y'fancy a mug."
Wildcard!
Totally down for other things. I can be found at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
bluecitrine.
What: Cammie dealing with some grief whilst trying to pretend she isn't and going about her routine
Where: Sleigh Room, communal relaxation area, training room, kitchen
When: December
Warnings/Notes: Inevitable discussion of child soldier stuff, mentions of climate disaster, discussion of child death, definite discussion of family death, other warnings in subject lines. (Obligatory note that Cammie's HoH/Deaf, her rabbit ears are her hearing aids.)
Sleigh Room
To most people, the way Cammie continues to throw herself into working on her Holon will probably seem like nothing but than a teenager with a good work ethic. Whenever she's out of basic maintenance tasks—and she is constantly finding more of those to add to the weekly routine—she's working on the jerry-rigged computers so she can better access her systems without being uploaded. Hardware, software, all of it.
But to people who know her better, or perhaps to people who do the same thing, Cammie is clearly distracting herself.
This isn't her favourite time of year. Not anymore.
Alright, it was never actually her favourite. Winters in Scotland were harsh things, all the years she lived there—deadly things, sometimes, with the way the polar vortex was breaking down—not the kind of snow you could play in. But there was joy in the holidays, anyway. The five years where all six members of her family were at home were good years. And then the twins died. And then her Mam. And then her dad. And then it was just her and her Gran until she got herself arrested and ended up in America.
They don't know exactly when her Gran went, too, but it was around this time of year and that hardly improved things.
So, Cammie does what Cammie does best: she buries herself deep in her work so that she doesn't start thinking about all the bad stuff. Never a foolproof plan, but good enough.
Visitors may or may not be noticed, depending on how deep in her hyperfocus on work she is at the time, but those who do get noticed without extra effort might be asked:
"Y'mind handing me that socket wrench?" or "Be a pal and toss me up those crisps?" or the like.
Training Room
There is a giant, mechanical rabbit in the training room. It's not an uncommon sight, actually; anyone who frequents the training room will have seen it in action at least once by now. Cammie's up here whilst uploaded just as frequently as she is in her human body, if not more.
She's yet to take the mech out on a mission. She feels... rusty. And so, she practices.
Leaps and flips and boosting herself so she can skate along the walls. Practising her aim, since her drones aren't functioning quite right just yet. Seeing how much of an advantage the mech gives her when handling the fearling swarms and getting covered in the red paint for her troubles.
If you look past the mech, you might spot the young Scot's flesh body tucked safely in a corner. For all intents and purposes she appears to be asleep; like she sat down against the wall and dosed off. Were it not for the mech, the only giveaway of anything unusual going on would be the small node attached to her temple: a white circle with tiny bunny ears protruding from the edge, and green blinking lights within it.
Communal Relaxation Area
Sat in front of a fire in a nest of pillows and her back against a couch, Cammie is fiddling with what appears to be a small robotic toy. Something a little more simplistic than the kind of thing she'd make back home, but not entirely dissimilar in its design principals to Nugget, who is paying very close attention to what his human is doing.
Every time she sets it down to pick something else up, the little guy keeps 'sniffing' it, or tapping it with one of his tiny feet. Cammie shakes her head at him. "Buddy. C'mon. You've got bloody nothin' to be gettin' all jealous about, I'm not replacin' you. Just pitchin' in with some toy ideas for the wee kiddies. I'd've loved gettin' somethin' even a little like you as a kid."
So would Maisie and Fergie, she's sure, but they hadn't got the money for all the best gadgets back then. Nugget was a personal project, and so were her ears. It was only after Mam and Dad were both gone and she dropped out of school to hack full time that she got all her best equipment.
Pulling a face, she visibly shakes the thoughts off and gets back to fiddling.
Kitchen
It's late. It's really late. Cammie's sleep schedule hasn't improved at all on this third leg of her multiversal journey, because why would it? The disruption of her routine is more than enough to set her back again each time and frankly, she's rarely made much progress in shaking the habit in the first place. Nightmares, workaholic tendencies, and good old fashioned poor choices have always been her frenemies.
It's more than that right now, though.
Cammie is attempting to make hot chocolate the old fashioned way, on a stove in the kitchens. She has all the ingredients and tools she needs, and she's already got a batch on the heat. She's never done it before, not properly. But this was how her Gran always used to make it, ever since she was just a wee babe. Cammie watched her do it so many times it's burned into her memory, and thanks to gen:LOCK she can go back and view those memories with unnatural clarity. She knows how to do it. In theory.
It still doesn't feel like it'll taste the same.
God, she misses her. She misses all of them. Mam, Dad, Gran, Maisie and Fergie—why is it just her still alive? Why did her Gran have to go and be so stubborn and get herself—
One rabbit ear twitches towards the sound of someone else in the room. Cammie scrubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand and swallows, so she can sound like she has her shit together. "Makin' more than enough for two, if y'fancy a mug."
Wildcard!
Totally down for other things. I can be found at
no subject
"Leader, aye? Yeah, I can see that," said with a rather exaggerated look over. He's got the tough team leader vibe. "More like, ehhh—half a century for me? But fuck if I dinnae feel that, better here than the last place but half the parts I need don't exist unless I fabricate 'em myself and even that's harder without the big 3D-printing wells."
She has no idea how she'll handle the eventuality that a piece of her Holon is destroyed entirely and needs replacement. It's a very 'put out that fire when it starts burning' situation, right now.
"Dinnae even wanna think about messin' around with the internals of this thing." She gestures loosely at the open casing and all its futuristic, glowing bits. "I've done bitsa brain maintenance before, for a friend 'a mine, but I'm still workin' on a way to look at the software let alone the hardware."
She sits back a bit, stretching her hands out. This is one of the rare times she's not in her crouched position, but she does have her legs crossed. "Interdimensional math sounds like a real bloody doozy. You gotta be pushin' some of that equipment to its limit."
no subject
"It may seem a bit counter-intuitive, but the magic the yeti have on hand is worth investigating. It can bridge the gap in technology - for the hardware, at least."
A strange thought at first, but if the magic's properties could be studied and measured... It was no different to any other material or chemical he used in his lab. Even if it operated under slightly more arcane and chaotic rules than nanotech.
"What are you trying to do?"
no subject
"Not as crazy as it should sound, actually. Magic's already all up in the workings of my gear, has been since it got yanked over—it's the way these hops interfere with power levels when your powers are external tech. Just never had the tools to try an' actually make it work for me before."
Back in the Green there was just no way to do anything with the tech that didn't stop working entirely, it's a relief to be in a place where she can actually get her fingers into things again.
"What I'm tryna do right now is reinforce the brain housing, best I can. Last thing I need is some villain or monster we have to fight tearin' into it. The more protection it's got, the more time you lot have to help if I cannae get 'em off for some reason."
no subject
Aside from the incident with Morales, unstable molecule weave is fairly indestructible. But since he'd arrived here, there'd been a lot of knives and claws and other such sharp things piercing through and forcing it to locally regenerate. Another task on the docket to solve at some nebulous point in the future.
Miguel steps aside to give the Holon a more careful look, putting two and two together when he notices its lack of cockpit, among other things. He glances back at her.
"Brain housing - then you control it remotely. Or does your machine have some level of awareness on its own?"
Less an armor, more an avatar.
no subject
"Yeah, my body armour's took a hit too. Mostly the physical augmentation, but I reckon it wouldnae take as many bullets as it used to, neither. Haven't worked on that yet."
She spins her chair around to follow him with her eyes. It's still a little weird seeing people look so tall next to the Holon; she's not quite gotten used to it being a quarter of its usual size just yet. Miguel is a little more than half its reduced height.
"Remotely, aye. Or," her nose scrunches and her rabbit ears tilt sideways, "sorta. It's not like lookin' through a camera and usin' digital controls. My body hangs back, but my consciousness is taken right outta my skull and uploaded into the e-brain directly. I become the mech. Full sensation, full control, just like walkin' around in my flesh body. Except for all the extra bits, 'course, but—"
She waves a hand like 'eh, close enough'.
no subject
He taps his fingers in thought, it was a familiar trade-off.
"Nueva York had a similar way to upload a human mind into cyberspace, but it was a little too easy to get lost. Some people dive in too deep and leave behind their original bodies."
Of which creates a host of personality-driven messes to deal with back in his home city. For Cammie, though, it seemed to be more concern than anything. She was already working on ways to make the connection more secure, clearly there were dangers that were worth asking about.
no subject
The rabbit ears pull tight together, though her expression doesn't shift further than a wrinkling in her brow. "Yeaaaah, there's... similar risks. The tech's basically brand new, only been functional for a little under five years. 'Til recently, there were only six of us with the right brain structure to be digitised, and maybe a handful of other folks who were compatible but too old to risk it."
Poor Leon. Just a little too old, and now an ongoing source of paranoia for Cammie about the future.
"We got strict up-time limits before our brains change too much to slot back into our bodies, and there's s'posed to be minimum reset times before you reupload again after downloadin'. You exceed up-time, you can keep on livin' in the Holon and digital sphere, but that's it. A friend of mine, he..."
She sighs, spinning her chair around in a full circle.
"He went over on purpose. He'd already lost most of his body to nanotech. Spent four years livin' in a tube. So when the rest of us needed cover to reset, he stayed. Said he wasn't givin' up much anyway." She understands the thought academically, but she still finds reaching that point hard to imagine. The idea of losing her body... "And that's not even gettin' into our bad guy, who's... kinda another version of that guy? Except he didnae chose it? It's a mindfuck of a situation, honestly."
no subject
"Cammie, I'd like to set time aside to get familiar with your system." he says, turning to face her. "The ins and outs."
They'd just met, and he could be called a cordial conversation partner at best, but she must feel alone having to manage the tech side of her powers. And like a lot of the others on the Pole, she was just a kid. Even prodigies could get in over their heads.
"I'm more familiar with artificial intelligence than artificial brains, so I don't want to promise anything. But this isn't something you should have to take on yourself."
There are a number of others he wishes were here to be a more inviting hand - Lyla and Margo at the top of the list. But he'll have to do.
no subject
Cammie can't help but snort a little. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and her ears straighten up. "Just, y'know, for the record, I have been maintainin' five of these things for goin' on a year back home and I ain't melted anyone's brains yet. Ever since the Doc died, it's kinda been on me. And I've done real bloody well, if I do say so myself. Improved security and the upload procedure a shit ton."
She likes to think that Weller would have eventually taught her more on his own, if he'd lived. That she wasn't entirely lying, when she told Jha and Holcroft that he'd designated her his successor. But she'll never actually know. And in the end, what matters is that she's grown into the position regardless.
So there's a pride, to her. This is the one area where Cammie has near complete confidence in herself. The glimmer of the teenager who resents being treated like a child shines through her pointed gaze.
But, she did used to have some help. Jha, before she was transferred to other priorities. Migas and Caliban, the rest of the time.
So, with a needlessly dramatic sigh, "But I won't say no to some help. Just keep that in mind, yeah? Probably I can share my data packets on gen:LOCK, if you've got your own set-up. That'll make explainin' the practical stuff go easier."
Beat, then: "Also now you've offered, you cannae go bein' surprised if I ever need to replace a part and drag your big muscly self in to help lift shite. Just. Puttin' that out there."
no subject
"Fair enough. I wasn't doubting your skills."
His composure is decidedly unruffled. It was teamwork he was after, not a student to lecture at. He suspects he'll learn just as much from her as visa-versa.
"This goes both ways, of course. You're welcome to wander over and see the lab. I can't say it holds up to what I had back home, but it's mostly finished."
It's a space he can populate with half-finished projects for his duration of the stay in this dimension. It'll have to do, for now.
no subject
Cammie sits back again, apparently satisfied with that answer. She's had one too many experiences with adults who think she surely can't be as capable as she is just because she's still a teenager. For now, Miguel has passed the test.
"We're stuck in the '20s, I'd be more surprised if it did hold up to what you got back home. I'll deffo pop by and see what you've rigged up, might give me a few ideas on beefing up my system."
She's only started on the bare basics she needs to do her maintenance, and has yet to perfect that, so stepping beyond it into anything more intensive is going to be... a challenge.
It's great, honestly. She's missed this.
"Alright, first off, for now lemme..." Her internal tech still works here, too, which means she can project a number of holographic screens using her MR implants. On them, she displays the bare basic mindframe information, as well as the basic wireframe of her mech. "I'll transfer you the files when I can, but this is the basic visual presentation we got. Back then we were still relyin' on clunky upload pods."
Which she also briefly shows a blueprint of, before instead holding up a tiny little node with rabbit ears. "These days, I just stick this to my temple and it uploads me just the same."
no subject
Miguel addresses his previously unmentioned multiverse wrist-goober, the screen spreading out with a few taps of the fingers.
"Let's see if this works. A lot of functions were busted on arrival."
A holoscreen pops up, showing it attempting to sync with her gadgets over there. Funny that he picked an easy-reading nightshift orange to sit opposite to the blue. Maybe the tech will follow magnet rules and connect more easily that way.
Traveling in and out of various dimensions had required the Society to adapt the devices to be fairly flexible, of course. But it's hard to prepare for everything in the multiverse. Perhaps they'll have some luck this time?
He holds it out to the bunny-eared node to see if the two devices want to talk.
no subject
Cammie's tech has yet to have to deal with the trials of multiple dimensions, but things in her time are generally designed to be as cross-compatible with other systems as possible. Even gen:LOCK, with all its top-secret proprietary technology, interfaces effortlessly with all other Polity systems—there's just a layer of protections stopping it from going so easily the other way.
The node lights up. A 'connect to unknown device?' box with accept and decline buttons appears on her MR screen.
"There we go. Never gonnae be able to say how much of that's the tech alone and how much of it's this place smoothing things along, but at least it should work."