never_francesca | IC Inbox

Comatose.

[She refills each of the glasses, with a shrug.]

Kept an eye on him, but he's got enough people close to him I doubt it was strictly necessary.

[God, those comas. What the shit is up with them. Just hearing about it is enough to finish off her drink and reach for the bottle, intent on pouring another one.]

I was busy. Did a lot. Protected some people.

[Failed to protect some others.]

For a hot second, it was enough to make me forget that this place is bullshit.

[She nodded, pushing her own glass forward for refill.]

Well you're right about it being bullshit - the question is: what kind do you think it is?

Depends.

[She murmurs, topping off Franky's glass for her while she has the bottle in hand.]

There's levels to it. There's the, uh... the fact that we're all stuck in a tin can together. There's having to deal with people in a way I don't at home. Having to deal with people being stupid.

I don't know how existential you wanna get.

[She nods along to that.]

The first three I got in the navy before coming here. [She waves a hand, with a nod.]

Come on, all of it is better out than in. I can handle philosophy.

The military was fine; there was structure, and orders. I got no problem with that kind of tin can.

[She takes another long pull.]

This place isn't real. You aren't, either.

Glad your time is better about that.

[A lot goes unsaid in that sentence, a lot that doesn't need to be said between two women.]

[But then there's that second part, and she barks a laugh, genuinely surprised for the first time in a long time.]

Really, now.

[The eyebrow-raise of wry acknowledgement that Franky gets to that first part says all it really needs to say: unfortunately, there still had been plenty of sexist bullshit.]

I'm going to act like it's real, because I could still be wrong. But yeah. Really.

[She shakes her head at that.]

You bloody well are. Hate to tell you this, but I'm real, this is real. All of it is real.

What do you think it is?

You're from, uh... what year are you from again?

[She idly turns her glass on the table, looking at Shaw.]

1939. Not the same as yours, I'm rather sure on that. Turns out mine didn't get the horrible mustached German man so it's turning out rather different. That and the bloody robots.

Do you know what virtual reality is? Have you been in the Enclosure?

Place keeps me sane, half the time. Only place I get to fly.

[All said with a nod.]

Okay.

I think the whole Barge is like the Enclosure.

[She wants to scoff at that, but instead - instead she just stays quiet for a long moment, thinking about it. Turning it over in her mind. She doesn't dismiss it - Shaw's already earned that much in her book - and it's a long time before she speaks again, having taken another sip of her drink.]

Well, I haven't any real proof it isn't, but then again we wouldn't for anything - save, of course, going all the way back to Descartes and the bloody basics: cogito ergo sum.

[She shrugs.]

I think, therefore, I am - we're real beings, even if the universe around us is artificial.

I don't know for sure that you are, though. I'm not in your head.

[A pause, and then she adds--]

And you don't know that I am.

I'm prepared to take your reality on faith.

[She pauses, lifting her glass and looking at Shaw over it.]

Besides, why would a simulation toss a one-eyed British pilot at you?

Maybe to lull me into a false sense of security. Give me someone I could relate to.

[She arches an eyebrow at that.]

I guess I'll take that much as a compliment, at least. But surely all the absurdity around us would negate that.

No.

[She shakes her head, her brow furrowing.]

No, that's to drive me insane. They need to hit on the right combination to break me - eighty, ninety percent to mess with my head, and then just a little bit to make me think I can bring myself back. The Enclosure and breaches and mind-control vampires most of the time, but also people like you or B, every once in a while.

[Someone's done a number on this woman in the other world, that much is for sure. She leans in a bit, brow furrowing.]

Who's they?

I can also think of a couple of better ways to do that.

Oh, yeah?

[She asks instead of answering, lifting her gaze to meet Franky's.]

Ever go flying at night?

[She nods]

Got lost once, when I was just starting out. Gets dark enough, moonless night, over water - you lose track of everything. Time, up, down and you end up inverted without even knowing it. So you end up going to gain altitude and more than one pilot under the circumstances has ended up in the drink.

I got lucky, moon came out from behind the cloud cover - but surely there's cheaper ways to get the job done. Just lock someone in a dark room long enough, probably.

Yeah.

But for some people, money's no object. And anyway, I have training. Solitary confinement is one of the things they prepared us for in special ops.

[VR simulation torture, though? Not so much.]

Tell me about it.

Still, though. Damned stupid way to go about breaking someone. You'd think chemicals, or something. Surgery. Some sort of mind-control device.

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