RE: The Melancholy of Mackie-Chan
10-15-2023, 04:23 PM (This post was last modified: 10-15-2023, 04:44 PM by Dartz.)
10-15-2023, 04:23 PM (This post was last modified: 10-15-2023, 04:44 PM by Dartz.)
Crawling forward on all fours
---
A Toyota Crown taxi dropped Miyuri to Shinji’s apartment. The reflection of neon light flowed like liquid across the glass-polished black paint. It still wore the pristine markings of the Hiroshima company that had owned it for a decade. Behind her, one of the station’s AMP patrol cars sat grumbling at idle, it’s gleaming silver supercharger whistling through the mouth of its air intake.
An old Ford coupe - a sort of Muscle Car, but not a Mustang. It had the steering wheel on the right hand side for a start. The officer sat inside, bathed in the holographic light of her notebook, tapping out a message on the wireframe display.
The tang of burned fuels mingled with parched concrete, rose perfume and fried spice and fresh bread brought up from the station’s concourse on a draft from the ventilation
The blocky form of an exocomp robot hoved along the passageway, making its way with a purposeful lack of urgency to its next task. Following it, two of the station's rose-duellists in their militaresque uniforms, gleaming silver rapiers hung from their waists. Neon lights overhead had been twisted into pink roses and green leaves, hung within wrought-steel arches
Miyuri saw Frigga as a kaleidoscope of grimy gearhead cyperpunk, and gleaming crystal romanesque as if those aboard couldn’t decide what they wanted to be, so just whisked everything together, like oil and water spun in a churn and never given a chance to settle.
The inherent tension in the mix tingled up her spine like static electricity - leaving her with a sense that she stood on top of a bubble threatening to burst.
She took a breath. It made sense considering who the settlement founder was. She glanced down at the door controls. The apartment owner’s name shone in a bright orange nixie light.
Ikari. S.
They didn’t include the R.- prefix. A subtle hint that she’d left her usual orbit of fandom. She pressed her wristband against the nameplate. An electronic chime answered. The name turned green. The door opened with a whine of a servo, drawing back into a slot in the wall.
The doors on Odyssey would normally be silent, so as not to disturb the guests.
She stepped inside, overcome by the sense that it’d been formed in a dark mirror of his quarters on Ultima. The room definitely belonged to Evil Shinji, she thought. It had the same sense of ordered neatness to it - the same meticulously placed furniture. His clothes had been carefully laid out, folded over the back of a chrome and leather kitchen stool. Pots, pans and the ingredients for that evening’s dinner had been careful set out, mis-en-place.
Instead of having couches, the floor dropped to form a conversation pit around an empty television stand.
A window looked out onto the station’s concourse below, neon lights through rainbow shades across a tiled ceiling. The apartment had a weapons locker, and an emergency kit locker. A Japanese Peace Lily sat within an automatic watering and pruning device. The daylighter above it had turned off.
It even had a landline phone hung from the wall.
“Why are the phone lines marked with a snail?”
“Den Den Mushi.” Came the answer from behind her. A thrill of shock ran up her back. Shinji, in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. “It was Mackie’s idea. From One Piece. Since the entire system control software was pirated anyway.”
Two things went through her mind on simultaneous threads. Whomever built him had a definite eye for how an athletic male body should be assembled. Whomever bought him that t-shirt had an odd sense of humour.
“I Immanentized the Eschaton and all I got was this lousy t-shirt?”
“Yuu picked it up last time she was in Korolev.” A thin smile crawled across his face, as if he expected any God seeing him amused at the End of the World would strike him down for his insolence. “The men's bath was crowded and I thought you’d stay a little longer, so I took a shower.”
“Our time ran out,” said Miyuri. “And Mackie wasn’t very comfortable.”
Shinji gave her a side look.
“I think she prefers Gaige?”
Unless he hadn’t been privy to some different information.
“I’m not sure this is what Mackie wants,” Miyuri said.“He really sounded like he was trying to convince me it was.”
Shinji gave her a look for a moment, “She told me Jet damaged the power regulators on her memory chips. She’d be wiped if she tried to swap her body,” he explained. “I guess she’s trying to make the best of things.”
If Miyuri had blood, it would’ve gone cold.
Shinji noticed the change in Miyuri’s expression. “What?”
“She told me something else,” Miyuri said in a small voice.
“Maybe she’s just doesn’t want us asking the question,” Shinji suggested. “It’s still relatively soon.”
“Maybe….”
She found herself looking out around the apartment - more a holiday home than anywhere lived in. Yuu had added some pictures to the wall - some neon-lit cty-scapes, a bustling market, Lun’s avatar swimming. One of Jet herself sweeping through Panzer Kunst form. A big diesel locomotive blazing with light and smoke in a black tunnel. Beautiful in their own way
Shinji began to cook. Even though neither of them technically needed to eat.
“I played games with her earlier.” Shinji said, chopping onions.“ I know people who resleeved, or biomodded themselves and they have the same aura when you meet them - even if they look completely different. Gaige feels different from Mackie.”
Miyuri sat herself down on one of the cushions surrounding the conversation. . A label identified it as fireproof Naugahyde. The foam supported her additional weight well enough that it could almost be comfortable.
She took a breath, finding her centre at the moment
“Maybe I am just being a little paranoid,” she admitted.“But with Anika erasing logs of their reactor accident. Maybe I’m just seeing the worst in everything…”
“They just don’t want to be the people who blew up a fusion reactor.” Shinji kept chopping as he spoke. “They’re just a little embarrassed about it. They worry a lot about what other people think here”
He stopped chopping.
“It was something Ford told me shortly after I woke up. The wave gives you what’s expected. What you expect, and what people expect from you.”
A moment passed, where Miyuri expected there’d been more to it
“Nobody here expected to be called a hero for stopping the reactor accident. They expected to be the villains for causing it in the first place.”
“You spoke to Anika?”
“I’m Shinji,” he said, as if that was an explanation. “I cook things and know people.”
Miyuri gave him a blank look
“I’m the Third Child. It took me a while to understand what people expected from a Third Child too. Not just Shinji.”
Miyuri had sometimes wondered how a fry-cook quickly found their way to the position of security chief. All her sisters had their own little talents, she supposed.
Shinji returned to his chopping. A pot of vegetable stock began to bubble, filling the air with a comforting, home-like smell.
Some of Nana’s toys sat in the corner, waiting for her to come back. The books on the shelf had been clearly read.
Definitely a holiday home, rather than just a vacation residence.
“I didn’t think you’d like it here, Shinji. You like your cleanliness and order.”
Shinji continued to stir.
“My spaces are clean and tidy because that’s who I am,” he said “But a place lived in by people will always be just a bit messy, dirty and disordered. Only an empty world stays clean and - I chose to be around people. Messiness and all.”
“Hmm…”
“Yuu likes it here.” Shinji continued.“All the colours and contrasts between light and dark are good for her art. And Nana needs to meet people too. Ultima’s fairly isolated. “
“I see,” said Miyuri, musing to herself that Shinji Ikari had become a loving, compassionate father, with a good sense for people’s motivations and a desire to connect with and be with people.
He had a wisdom far beyond his teenage face.
----
Minor Note:
That's supposed to be a Ford Falcon XB, GT. Because, why not?
And Shinji is .... both being a bit of a Kaji and maybe a little bit of another Third Child.
---
A Toyota Crown taxi dropped Miyuri to Shinji’s apartment. The reflection of neon light flowed like liquid across the glass-polished black paint. It still wore the pristine markings of the Hiroshima company that had owned it for a decade. Behind her, one of the station’s AMP patrol cars sat grumbling at idle, it’s gleaming silver supercharger whistling through the mouth of its air intake.
An old Ford coupe - a sort of Muscle Car, but not a Mustang. It had the steering wheel on the right hand side for a start. The officer sat inside, bathed in the holographic light of her notebook, tapping out a message on the wireframe display.
The tang of burned fuels mingled with parched concrete, rose perfume and fried spice and fresh bread brought up from the station’s concourse on a draft from the ventilation
The blocky form of an exocomp robot hoved along the passageway, making its way with a purposeful lack of urgency to its next task. Following it, two of the station's rose-duellists in their militaresque uniforms, gleaming silver rapiers hung from their waists. Neon lights overhead had been twisted into pink roses and green leaves, hung within wrought-steel arches
Miyuri saw Frigga as a kaleidoscope of grimy gearhead cyperpunk, and gleaming crystal romanesque as if those aboard couldn’t decide what they wanted to be, so just whisked everything together, like oil and water spun in a churn and never given a chance to settle.
The inherent tension in the mix tingled up her spine like static electricity - leaving her with a sense that she stood on top of a bubble threatening to burst.
She took a breath. It made sense considering who the settlement founder was. She glanced down at the door controls. The apartment owner’s name shone in a bright orange nixie light.
Ikari. S.
They didn’t include the R.- prefix. A subtle hint that she’d left her usual orbit of fandom. She pressed her wristband against the nameplate. An electronic chime answered. The name turned green. The door opened with a whine of a servo, drawing back into a slot in the wall.
The doors on Odyssey would normally be silent, so as not to disturb the guests.
She stepped inside, overcome by the sense that it’d been formed in a dark mirror of his quarters on Ultima. The room definitely belonged to Evil Shinji, she thought. It had the same sense of ordered neatness to it - the same meticulously placed furniture. His clothes had been carefully laid out, folded over the back of a chrome and leather kitchen stool. Pots, pans and the ingredients for that evening’s dinner had been careful set out, mis-en-place.
Instead of having couches, the floor dropped to form a conversation pit around an empty television stand.
A window looked out onto the station’s concourse below, neon lights through rainbow shades across a tiled ceiling. The apartment had a weapons locker, and an emergency kit locker. A Japanese Peace Lily sat within an automatic watering and pruning device. The daylighter above it had turned off.
It even had a landline phone hung from the wall.
“Why are the phone lines marked with a snail?”
“Den Den Mushi.” Came the answer from behind her. A thrill of shock ran up her back. Shinji, in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. “It was Mackie’s idea. From One Piece. Since the entire system control software was pirated anyway.”
Two things went through her mind on simultaneous threads. Whomever built him had a definite eye for how an athletic male body should be assembled. Whomever bought him that t-shirt had an odd sense of humour.
“I Immanentized the Eschaton and all I got was this lousy t-shirt?”
“Yuu picked it up last time she was in Korolev.” A thin smile crawled across his face, as if he expected any God seeing him amused at the End of the World would strike him down for his insolence. “The men's bath was crowded and I thought you’d stay a little longer, so I took a shower.”
“Our time ran out,” said Miyuri. “And Mackie wasn’t very comfortable.”
Shinji gave her a side look.
“I think she prefers Gaige?”
Unless he hadn’t been privy to some different information.
“I’m not sure this is what Mackie wants,” Miyuri said.“He really sounded like he was trying to convince me it was.”
Shinji gave her a look for a moment, “She told me Jet damaged the power regulators on her memory chips. She’d be wiped if she tried to swap her body,” he explained. “I guess she’s trying to make the best of things.”
If Miyuri had blood, it would’ve gone cold.
Shinji noticed the change in Miyuri’s expression. “What?”
“She told me something else,” Miyuri said in a small voice.
“Maybe she’s just doesn’t want us asking the question,” Shinji suggested. “It’s still relatively soon.”
“Maybe….”
She found herself looking out around the apartment - more a holiday home than anywhere lived in. Yuu had added some pictures to the wall - some neon-lit cty-scapes, a bustling market, Lun’s avatar swimming. One of Jet herself sweeping through Panzer Kunst form. A big diesel locomotive blazing with light and smoke in a black tunnel. Beautiful in their own way
Shinji began to cook. Even though neither of them technically needed to eat.
“I played games with her earlier.” Shinji said, chopping onions.“ I know people who resleeved, or biomodded themselves and they have the same aura when you meet them - even if they look completely different. Gaige feels different from Mackie.”
Miyuri sat herself down on one of the cushions surrounding the conversation. . A label identified it as fireproof Naugahyde. The foam supported her additional weight well enough that it could almost be comfortable.
She took a breath, finding her centre at the moment
“Maybe I am just being a little paranoid,” she admitted.“But with Anika erasing logs of their reactor accident. Maybe I’m just seeing the worst in everything…”
“They just don’t want to be the people who blew up a fusion reactor.” Shinji kept chopping as he spoke. “They’re just a little embarrassed about it. They worry a lot about what other people think here”
He stopped chopping.
“It was something Ford told me shortly after I woke up. The wave gives you what’s expected. What you expect, and what people expect from you.”
A moment passed, where Miyuri expected there’d been more to it
“Nobody here expected to be called a hero for stopping the reactor accident. They expected to be the villains for causing it in the first place.”
“You spoke to Anika?”
“I’m Shinji,” he said, as if that was an explanation. “I cook things and know people.”
Miyuri gave him a blank look
“I’m the Third Child. It took me a while to understand what people expected from a Third Child too. Not just Shinji.”
Miyuri had sometimes wondered how a fry-cook quickly found their way to the position of security chief. All her sisters had their own little talents, she supposed.
Shinji returned to his chopping. A pot of vegetable stock began to bubble, filling the air with a comforting, home-like smell.
Some of Nana’s toys sat in the corner, waiting for her to come back. The books on the shelf had been clearly read.
Definitely a holiday home, rather than just a vacation residence.
“I didn’t think you’d like it here, Shinji. You like your cleanliness and order.”
Shinji continued to stir.
“My spaces are clean and tidy because that’s who I am,” he said “But a place lived in by people will always be just a bit messy, dirty and disordered. Only an empty world stays clean and - I chose to be around people. Messiness and all.”
“Hmm…”
“Yuu likes it here.” Shinji continued.“All the colours and contrasts between light and dark are good for her art. And Nana needs to meet people too. Ultima’s fairly isolated. “
“I see,” said Miyuri, musing to herself that Shinji Ikari had become a loving, compassionate father, with a good sense for people’s motivations and a desire to connect with and be with people.
He had a wisdom far beyond his teenage face.
----
Minor Note:
That's supposed to be a Ford Falcon XB, GT. Because, why not?
And Shinji is .... both being a bit of a Kaji and maybe a little bit of another Third Child.
I love the smell of rotaries in the morning. You know one time, I got to work early, before the rush hour. I walked through the empty carpark, I didn't see one bloody Prius or Golf. And that smell, you know that gasoline smell, the whole carpark, smelled like.... ....speed.
One day they're going to ban them.