Mitch Gets Lunch
Michael
Mitch's new friend knows exactly where he wants to go for lunch, by the way: Esther’s Orbit Room. It's a bit of a walk but he promises Mitch the food will be well worth it.
Jeff
Okay, I've never been to Esther's, what's good?
Michael
Mitch's nameless elderly friend says, "Whew, what isn't good. Esther's a mean cook, and she does your Southern soul food right … from what I've been led to believe."
"Me, I've never been down South so what do I know," the old gentleman guitarist wheezes.
Jeff
Sounds good, Oldtimer.
Michael
Mitch and the Oldtimer, his beat-up guitar on his back, push open the door to Esther's Orbit Room. The bar is about a quarter-full at 11:30, a few neighborhood folks having their fill of an early lunch at Esther's renowned all-you-can-eat soul food cafeteria-style buffet, a couple of Postal Service employees on an early "coffee" break from the giant postal sorting center across the street (which forced Esther from her original location and turned the neighborhood, along with the freeway and the BART line, into a noisy, truck-filled industrial zone). The walls are studded with dozens of black and white signed photos of blues, jazz, and R&B stars who've played here at the tiny stage in back. A gorgeous '40s/'50s jukebox tinnily pumps out a series of mid-'60s Motown and '50s vocal group 45s. A tall Black man is behind the bar, hands behind him on the countertop as he chats with a couple of the mailmen at the bar. Two Black women, one young, one middle-aged, bus trays and plates and serve drinks to the folks having a meal.
The bartender waves to the Oldtimer, saying, "Morning, Zeb," while giving Mitch a curt nod. The bartender sort of vaguely gestures to the two bar seats at the bend of the bar, which seem to be the Oldtimer's regular spot. The older Black lady comes over, all friendly-like, and greets the Oldtimer raspily, "Good mornin', darlin'," she says, putting her hands on the Oldtimer's frail arms, and Zeb, in a courtly fashion, takes her hand and kisses it. "A pleasure, my dear, as always. Perhaps we could get a couple of loaded plates for me and my old friend The Commissioner here." Esther (presumably) gives Mitch a once-over, saying, "Oh, of course! You want the buffet, honey, or something special off the menu?"
Jeff
What time is it? What kind of food is on the buffet plates Mitch can see — breakfast or lunch?
Are there grits?
Michael
There are absolutely grits at the buffet. Call it a lunch with some breakfast elements; for example, on the menu you can get chicken and waffles or steak and eggs.
Jeff
Hell yes, Mitch is salivating at the chance for a plate of grits, chicken and waffles, biscuits and gravy, a couple of pounds of the heavy stuff.
"Buffet looks a treat, ma'am."
"And some coffee, and ice water?"
Michael
"You got it, sweetie," Esther says. "You gotta start bring more hungry strays like this here, Zeb! It does my heart good." Zeb smiles indulgently at Esther, and says, "Well, me and the Commissioner here got every reason to celebrate." Zeb signals to the bartender, who goes to the well and pours a very generous triple rye for Zeb.
Mitch and Zeb can load up their plates with the good stuff like the grits and the biscuits and gravy, the okra and collard greens, etc.; Mitch'll have to wait for the kitchen to make his chicken and waffles fresh.
As Zeb and Mitch make their way back to the bar, Zeb says sotto voce to Mitch, "You know, It's been nigh-on fifty years here and I still can't believe they make you pay to eat. Although I must say, this food absolutely beats the hell out of gobbling pills three times a day."
Jeff
"It's the little things. Music, food. Makes life bearable, y'know?"
Michael
"That they do, that they do."
Jeff
Mitch studies the Oldtimer's aura again, because now I feel like he has something to look for and think about: History-B taint versus annunaki/Red King taint. It's of a piece with his (still unvoiced and unshared) History-C speculation from Mount Shasta.
>>>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS
>>>> DETECT … SUCCESS
>>>> ANALYZE … SUCCESS
That 5 [on the Detect] isn't quite a critical b/c Mitch's Aura Reading skill is too low
Michael
Yeah, okay. So I think the other night I might have said that the Oldtimer was filthy with History B taint. As Mitch re-examines his aura more closely, and really zooms in on the uncharacteristic "brightness," he also gets the sense that Zeb himself (or his soul? spirit?) is ever-so-slightly out of phase with History A. Like, okay, imagine you're looking at some distant sight through a telescope or pair of binoculars or something and everything's just slightly blurry/doubled. That's what Zeb's aura looks like on second examination to Mitch right now. It's not an infinite corridor or set of mirrors heading off backwards into the fourth dimension like Charley (I think Mitch might now suddenly put together that Charley's unique aura reflects her past lives), it's more … seen through a mirror darkly.
Jeff
Like he's straight-up not from here? Like, this is what I would expect to see if he'd just stepped out of a Stargate?
(I don't think I've ever seen an episode of SG-1 all the way through, maybe better to say 'if he'd just climbed down from the cosmic treadmill')
Michael
The theory that the Oldtimer is not originally from here is a reasonable enough one. I would give you a Hidden Lore (History B) roll if you so desired in order to puzzle out the likelihood of such a thing.
Jeff
He's basically asserted as much, though I'm not sure how literally to take him.
>>>> SUCCESS
Michael
Your SANDMAN History B training has told you again and again "History B isn't a real place since the Ontoclysm, our history is well and truly the only one," and yet, retrocreations and subduction zones and reality quakes still happen. All that talk during the briefing this morning that Sophie and Jo engaged in, about the kusarikku being retrocreated and being already here, in an overlap with History B, yes, okay, Irruptors appear when belief in the cornerstones of History A starts to fall apart and tenuous elements of History B start to appear as "always having been" parts of our world. But what would it take for a human being, a fully-fledged human person with their own life story, having lived in an intact and continuous History B until, say, their mid-20s and then being sent here somehow? That you're not sure of, and more importantly, you're pretty sure SANDMAN clearly isn't sure of either. Probably time for a little Fright check over the biscuits and gravy, I'm afraid. No modifiers, just a straight up roll.
>>>> SUCCESS
Uncontrollable Pyrokinesis:
>>>> SUCCESS
Mitch has internalized this ontological possibility thus avoiding a freak out. And yes, it doesn't get hot in the Orbit Room.
Jeff
(If SANDMAN is wrong about this maybe they're wrong about History-C! It all fits together supporting my crackpot theory!! Smash that like & subscribe!)
Michael
(Oh man, an elderly Mitch becoming an Anunnaki theory YouTube sensation in the 2010s is my new headcanon)
Jeff
There is, it seems, a few moments of companionable silence. Mitch breaks it by asking the Oldtimer, "So what've you been up to, in the meantime? Just playing guitar in the park for, jeez, I don't know how many years?"
Michael
"I have been waiting. And yes, preparing the way for Him."
He says that pretty quick.
Jeff
Mitch is nonplussed, like, that's not an answer he was expecting and he doesn't try to hide that. "Really?"
Michael
Can you give me a Carousing check, +2 to your skill?
Jeff
>>>> FAILURE
Man Mitch just shouldn't drink on the damn job
The CIA beehives, Charley, and now the Oldtimer
Michael
"Well, yes, all right, I've been enjoying myself, Commissioner, I won't lie to you about that." Zeb says, suddenly, nervously. "As you can probably tell." Zeb looks a little uncomfortable, like he's reporting to a boss and maybe being called out on the carpet for not having doing the job. The former conviviality is gone, and Zeb looks down at his half-finished rye whiskey with a sour, nauseated look on his face. "But yes, I've played the right songs at the right times to the right little children to prepare His way. I swear, all you need to do is walk around to know His coming is close!"
Jeff
I shoulda found the points to get Mitch a level of Luck
"Whoa, hey, jeez man," Mitch's first instinct is to try to reassure the Oldtimer. "I get that, I get that, I just meant, like, what else has been going on in your life, man? I wasn't trying to — listen, nobody expects you to be on the clock twenty-four seven, man."
Michael
Man Mitch just shouldn't drink on the damn job
(Shit, I forgot to mention the other night! When Mitch made his way into work this morning, there was a brand-new gift box with a BIG bottle of Wild Turkey on his desk, from Sophie.)
Jeff
"There's a real final days, final phase kind of vibe, yeah, yeah. Yeah."
Michael
As Mitch says that, Esther comes over, "Here you go, hon. Chicken and waffles." She lays down the plate in front of Mitch. Zeb says to Mitch and Esther with a sly smile on his face, "Excuse me, I gotta go shake hands with a friend over some fine porcelain." Zeb gets up and heads to the gents'.
Jeff
"Esther, how long have you known Zeb, if you don't mind my asking?"
"We used to work together, crazy as that sounds," he adds.
Michael
So I think a Reaction roll with Esther is probably called for. Let me put together the modifiers.
I'm gonna say it's a 3d6 +2: +1 because you've been nice to Zeb and +1 because a Southern boy coming in here and appreciating Esther's vittles is always a sure way to help her reaction. You want to roll high, of course.
>>>> 3d6 … 11
Smack dab in the middle of Neutral. "Oh, he's been coming in here as long as we've been open, the last 10, 15 years or so? Every now and again we'll give him some money to play for the customers. He's harmless, really. You worked with him? For a minute there I thought you might have been with the social services. He's never been all there, of course. Poor old man."
Jeff
Mitch nods. "Yeah, I remember. These grits are great, by the by, thank you so much."
Michael
"Oh you come back anytime, child. We used to get all kinds of boys like you from down home in here, soldiers and sailors and airmen, before the freeway and the post office came in."
(Alameda Naval Air Station is right off the coast, a 10-15 minute walk from here)
Jeff
Mitch is weighing his options. He could try to extract Zeb, get him back to Livermore for interrogation. This option he rejects before he's even formed it. He could lay some money down and duck out before the oldtimer gets back to the bar. He could question the oldtimer more aggressively about Oakland and his activities and history. He could tell the oldtimer that he isn't quite who Zeb thinks he is, see what kind of reaction that gets. He could continue to play-act in the role of Zeb's handler and ask him some gentle questions about the neighborhood, trusting that there's nothing the oldtimer can do to threaten him when/if the truth comes out. Mitch barely has the skillset for the latter but it seems like his best bet, regardless.
Michael
Yeah, Zeb's making his slow way back to the table, wiping his wet hands off on his old threadbare trousers.
"Hey, let's dig in!" Zeb's guilt after confessing having boozed and eaten his way across the past 50 years seems to have disappeared in the face of all this food.
Jeff
Sounds good — Mitch has already started in on the grits, they're best piping hot
"So you haven't had any trouble fitting in, I guess?" Mitch asks by way of getting Zeb talking about his putative decades in Oakland inserting Red King iconography in the neighborhood's noosphere.
Mutants
"First couple of years were a little rough. Gotta pick up the language, the customs, the idioms," Zeb says, shoveling in the black eyed peas and fatback. "It's all easy, though, if you put your mind to it. People are the same everywhere, after all," he says, pointing his index finger at his temple a couple of times.
"And music, of course. Music speaks where words don't."
Jeff
Mitch is like, "Well, music may be music, but this music is not that music, am I right?"
Michael
"Well, they say it's not the notes you play, it's the ones you don't. Every song has at least a couple of layers to it, even the ones from here. But the way music has changed since I've been here, the fact that now you can cut a record in Oakland and it will be all over the world on radio and television and in stores before you even know it … well, that's got to be considered progress for us, doesn't it?"
Jeff
"The medium is the message , huh?"
Michael
Zeb doesn't seem to recognize the aphorism but says, "Maybe, maybe. But forget about the rest of the world … my job has been here and now. This beautiful city."
Jeff
"Beautiful?" If Mitch was gonna pick a city and call it beautiful he wouldn't select Oakland. "I guess."
Michael
Zeb eyes Mitch curiously. "Have you really looked? Looked into the hearts of the people? After all, it's in their hearts and minds where the real city, the city to come, truly dwells."
Jeff
"Well see you now you're saying it both ways — it's the here and now but also it's what's to come? I mean, I get it, the food and the music and the people and all, it's, I dunno, seductive?"
Michael
Zeb smiles. "Well sir, maybe I have gone a little bit native. But it was out of necessity. I think you need to be aware of something that might have slipped your grasp, given how you look to them. The people here in Oakland cling to each other desperately because of the shared color of their skin. They have to, it's a matter of pure survival in the face of the overwhelming belief systems their idiot rulers have put into place." He gestures outside to the freeway, the post office, maybe even to the Naval airbase in the distance, all the nexuses of outside power in the neighborhood.
"Can you believe these … cattle somehow believe that the color of someone's skin makes a human being inferior or superior to another? As I said, there's no lack of idiotic things that humans will believe given the right stimulus. Hell, some of these folks even believe it deep down, poor things."
Jeff
“Cattle, man?” Mitch looks pained. “You think you — we — man, people are people, you were just saying, and now you’re saying cattle?” He shifts in his seat. “Listen, what — if you want to — listen.” Mitch holds up his hands, lowers them again. And then he calms down a little, sets upon a teaching method, apparently. “How’d you get to where you are, huh? Like, walk me through it. Story of your life. You were born someplace, start there, finish with ‘and then i hung out in the park and eventually saw you,’ okay? Cattle. Jeez, man. Cattle.”
He gives Zeb a somber look than indicates his seriousness in this request.
Michael
Hmm, I think we will need the dice for this. Let me see if I can figure out what skill applies to this.
Jeff
Yeah I figured
(Maybe Psychology off Mitch’s Fortune-Telling default (in which case I’d argue I should get the bonus from the aura read)?)
Michael
So this feels like an Intimidation roll. My logic here is that Zeb looks at Mitch as a superior, or at least a trusted co-conspirator, so that should give you a +2 to intimidate. (Yes, the aura read should give you a bonus here as well, so that's +3.) So that essentially gets rid of the -5 to Will as the Default for Intimidation, so you roll straight Will against his straight Will. Battle of Wills.
Jeff
>>>> CRITICAL SUCCESS
Michael
low whistle
Jeff
And that 5 is a crit
Michael
Daaaaamn. Are you really gonna get this crazy old guy's entire life story? Yes. Yes you are.
This is gonna be, like, a four or five cups of coffee type lunch.
Jeff
Hahaha
We’re gonna need more grits.
Michael
Probably need another Fright Check at the end of it (with a bonus since, you know, you're kind of getting used to the idea of this guy being an actual citizen of a dead timeline) because it's gonna get weird
Jeff
Oh it’s GONNA get weird is it Mike.
We haven’t gotten to the weird part, is what you’re saying.
Michael
(Honestly, the best thing about this is that even with all this evidence, this guy could equally be a loyal citizen of History B or a completely delusional paranoid schizophrenic whose mind has been broken by 70 years of second-class citizenship)
(I mean, to the outside observer)
Jeff
I’m not sure those are two different things
But sure let’s hear THE CASE FOR THE OUTER CHURCH
Fun time, btw. Fun times
Michael
Weirdness Magnet always is, isn't it?
Zeb says: “I’m not sure why you need such a complete report, but I trust you, Commissioner. I'm gonna give it to you the best I can remember it. I am pretty old, after all, and I can barely remember home now.
"But I do remember I was born into a family-pod right here in New Ponguay, only a few miles away from where we sit now, exactly sixty-and-twelve years ago … by my reckoning. It was … well, I don't need to tell you, it was beautiful. I don't know exactly where you grew up, but New Ponguay was … heaven. The gardens, the trees, the happy people singing hymns to They Who Provided. I remember taking on my necessary studies to serve the ⋨ : the ⋭, advanced ⋬, and excelling at athletics and at ⋫. I was quite the athlete back then," Zeb chuckles, sounding for just a moment like a normal History A human being reliving his glory days. "But all that talent caught the eye of my regional administrator and thus I was inducted into ⋽."
"The seers of the šedu caste in this region had foreseen opportunities for ⋳ servitors' penetration back into the, yes," Zeb says quite insistently, "cattle's ontological frame. I was invited by the šedu to try to comprehend the supreme paradox: that all of us did not actually exist, that nothing we did mattered, yet with enough belief we might yet exist again. I meditated on the paradox for years, through most of the last part of my Second Twelve. And then, one day, I made the breakthrough. Proud and happy, I genuflected before the šedu Masters and showed them I understood. And with that, I was prepared."
"Bestowed modules of English, of basic cultural knowledge — especially music, as the blessed šedu said this would be one of the ways that history would be returned to them — I would teach the young ones on the other side our music, our hymns of praise. I was told my mission was to prepare the way, that one day, perhaps many Twelves hence, a Guardian of the Doorways would finally be revealed to have been here all along. That once his face was shown, the people on this side would gather to Him, recognizing Him as their better. And this moment would be the beginning of our reclamation."
"As you know, the energy expenditures to send someone here permanently are tremendous. And for the first half-a-year I was ... very sick and very confused. But eventually I settled in. And I saw the hatred, the pettiness, the starvation, the misery that these people lived in. They chose to live this way! Their rebellion had left them with nearly twentyfour-sixty years of continuous wars, of famines, of hatred, of blood, endless blood. I've seen and experienced so much misery since I came over, Commissioner. And yet … " Zeb chuckles, "yes, the food. The drink. The women. And men. Even the music. All so sweet, all so bitter, all these feelings I'd never experienced before, never even had the words for. Just how many different words these people have for emotions … it's dizzying!"
Zeb finishes his giant plate of food finally, and drinks the last gulp of rye. His eyes are bloodshot, his gaze unfixed. He glances at his guitar.
"But Commissioner, I never lost ⋥, I never got turned. I never lost sight of what I needed to do. So when this young man came along, this musical prodigy came up to me on the street corner a Twelve and a half ago, I took a shine to him. Taught him how to play. And you should hear him, Commissioner. You should hear him play the horn, he plays just like the Šedu Clothed In Linen. He will sound the alarm, he will wake the people of Oakland, he will deliver the first stone to us."
Jeff
"I heard the man dressed in linen, who was above the waters of the river, as he raised his right hand and his left toward heaven, and swore by Him who lives forever that it would be for a time, times, and half a time; and as soon as they finish shattering the power of the holy people, all these events will be completed."
Michael
Zeb smiles. "Every now and then one of them gets a correct glimpse, their tainted history shows them the truth. Lucky devils."
"Can I get you gentlemen anything else?" Esther says, coming over with her pencil and guest check pad.
Jeff
Mitch sighs. "I think that does it for us, thanks."
Michael
Zeb says, "That's fine, Esther. We'll settle up our account."
Jeff
As Mitch gets out his wallet to pay he has one more question for the Oldtimer. "Where you sleeping these days? You got someplace comfortable, secure?"
"You're not rough-bedding it in the park, are you?"
Michael
Zeb says, "Oh, I always find somewhere with an eave or a roof. I'm lucky that way. I'm not one for a fixed abode, you understand. Four walls, they get me nervous."
"Especially when I'm sleeping."
Jeff
Mitch isn't thrilled with that answer but accepts it. He tips generously.
Michael
Esther says, "Now you two don't stay strangers! And Zeb, if you ever want to play here again..." Zeb says, "I get the feeling we're gonna have time to play and sing and dance anytime we want, very soon, Esther. Bless you. Bless you both." Esther's husband William, behind the bar, taciturn as ever, gives Mitch (and Zeb) a bit of a wary, suspicious final look; vibe here throughout the meal has been that he isn't as charitable and indulgent about Zeb's 'craziness' as Esther maybe is.
Let's do that Fright Check, Jeff. +2 to your check.
I'm fine with the results happening once you get outside and get separated from Zeb's presence.
(I suppose saying it's a +2 doesn't matter given you're always going to fail on a 15+ and your Fright Check is 15, but I do seek to be consistent so I can personally internalize the mechanics of the "sanity check" in this setting.)
Jeff
>>>> SUCCESS
And Pyrokinesis.
>>>> SUCCESS
Michael
Looking cool and collected.
Jeff
Yeah, Mitch's #1 priority (after shaking Zeb's hand and telling him to stay well) is to phone this one in to Livermore.
Michael
Mitch, I'm gonna have Sophie put you on speaker at Livermore, hold on.
Sophie comes out of the library and gathers Marshall, Archie, and Charley. "It's Mitch. He's reporting in with something … important." The four of you can come back to the library where Sophie will attach the speaker box to her phone. "Go ahead, Mitch, we can all hear you now."
Jeff
"Uh, yeah, okay. I'm down in Oakland, at the post office on 7th, I just had lunch. Grits and chicken and waffles, real good, side of okra, just, delicious … That's not what I'm calling about, I'm calling because I had lunch with an irruptor. The, like, retroactive thing, where history changes to make ready the way? This guy was retroactively inserted into the neighborhood. He knows he isn't real, which is a trip. God. Nice guy. Zeb."
"He remembers being born on the other side, and doing well in school, and getting trained and assigned the task of infiltrating our side, and getting inserted like fifty years ago and, again, he isn't real and I don't think any of that actually happened in any kind of meaningful sense, but — he wasn't real, I guess I should say? He seems real enough now I dunno how far back that goes in actuality but it doesn't matter, that's getting into the weeds … anyway he's a bum , hangs out in the park, plays Red King music and teaches it to the kids? Like he's John the Baptist to the, uh, the guy with the head who's coming. Lion head? Bull head? I dunno, that doesn't matter. But, uh, I guess the stakes are pretty high. Unless we want a lion-headed dude wandering in. Thought everybody should know, anyway, about the irruptor. Regular guy, super nice, harmless, but, uh, not real. It's kind of fucked up.
"Hello? Guys?"
Michael
Sophie looks around at the other folks gathered around the squawk box. "Mitch. Sorry, he said he had recall of a life and a history in History B, and that he was deliberately sent here? Did he read as baseline human by your aura sight?"
Brant
I'm debating whether Marshall would be in the room for this conference call or if he's off making arrangements to transport Beth-El. If he is there, I'm debating whether the more IC thing for him to do, in terms of being charismatic, would be to say nothing at first or instead to remark something like, "Well, thank God we sent our best firefighter into the burning building, otherwise we never would've found that cracked gas line in the basement." He's prob off making arrangements for Beth-El. Transporting giant modern art installations isn't exactly something you call a U-Haul for.
Mel
Charley would defer to whichever senior members are present to handle Mitch’s call. But she is there listening.
Michael
I'm fine with Marshall drifting in in the middle of things, and yeah, Sophie's arguably our History B expert so she'll likely take a more active interest in getting Mitch's report.
Jeff
Back in Oakland Mitch groans, because the fact of the matter is, Mitch doesn't like this mission, doesn't like targeting musicians, doesn't want anything to do with it and has been dragging his feet hoping that it turns out to all be a big misunderstanding … which is looking less and less likely.
"Listen, Zeb was, enh, he was okay on the details, I guess, about as well as you'd expect a guy in his seventies to remember his high school years. He remembered being sent here, yeah, on purpose, from the other side, and he was aware that the other side isn't real and doesn't exist. And yeah, he was just a guy. Nice guy. Old, not super healthy, been sleeping under overpasses, but just a guy. If I hadn't talked to him I wouldn't have seen him as special. He was pretty heavily stained with Red King muck, aura-wise, but, I mean, more than one person I've met has been stained like that, without them being retroactive fake-but-real people-people. You know? Like, my first thought was, whoa, unprecedented, do I have this wrong, it's not something that ever happens … but then I was like, how would we know?"
Michael
"Quite," Sophie says. "I can't say it's never been theorized. But if we accept that History B lies beneath the surface of our world and thus has a … parallel 'existence' of some kind, time logically has to have progressed for the entities, both Anunnaki and human, trapped in that history. Could we all have parallel selves on the other side? Quite unlikely, given the vagaries of dozens of generations of sperm and egg meeting since 535 A.D. and the obvious narrative and temporal divergence between Histories A and B. But I suppose there's a one in a billion chance of the same person being born on both sides of the ontological barrier. And that would, theoretically, give a History B human a better opportunity of surviving on this side of things."
"There's the possibility," Sophie ventures, "that this is a walk-in. That your new friend Zeb is channeling the spirit of someone from over there. Maybe even an ekimmû. But ultimately, if he's a human, he's not an Irruptor. There's a reason why they're the only actual entities that have been known to be retrocreated here in our timeline when temblors occur. They're built for it. They're inhuman, their bodies can stand the stresses of being wrenched across the ontochasm."
Jeff
Mitch is shaking his head although of course there's no one to see that. "I'd have seen that. I'd have seen that, if he were possessed like Frank Senior. But listen to yourself, who says human bodies can't survive crossing over? Isn't that what the damn magic box was supposed to do, send someone over and back? Maybe the reason they're the only entities you know about is they're the only entities conspicuous enough to get noticed — maybe every temblor has a Zeb, or a half-dozen Zebs, sleeper agents who fan out spreading propaganda and making ready the way and they just fly under the radar, man!"
"I went looking for Zeb. I didn't know that he was what I went looking for, but I went looking for him, and I found him. I wouldn't have found him if I hadn't been looking. How many temblors are there that don't have a guy on the ground looking?"
Rob
Archie is wincing, and pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn't like thinking about the nuts and bolts of alternate histories, alternate dimensions, what have you. "No, no, no. History B isn't a 'place' that you can visit, by stepping through a door. It's a lie, a history that never — a history that no longer ever happened. Our calling is to make sure it stays that way."
"But the ontological status of this individual doesn't matter. He's an active agent of the opposition, he has to be brought in. We can send him to Granite Peak, like Keiner."
"Good work, Mitch."
Michael
Rob, can Archie give me an Expert Skill (Memetics) roll?
Rob
>>>> SUCCESS
(it's fine if Archie's assertion about History B above isn't true — it's what he chooses to believe)
Archie looks troubled, then asks, "But Mitchell, how long were you interacting with this individual?"
And Archie picks up the telephone receiver, taking Mitch off speaker.
Jeff
" … why do you ask, Archie?"
Michael
Sophie looks very grim all of a sudden and ushers Charley out of the library.
Mel
“Huh, oh wha … !”
Rob
Archie is grateful for Sophie's intervention. On the phone to Mitch, he says, "It sounds like you've been speaking at length, with an agent of the opposition, in uncontrolled conditions, about History B. Or maybe he's just an unwitting civilian, infected by their memes. Either way, there's a real possibility that you've been exposed."
Jeff
"Exposed?" Mitch glances around reflexively, which I assume doesn't merit an Observation check because he's at a pay phone by the post office and there's nothing around to see. "Exposed," he repeats. "Okay, man, I know I'm not all up on the memetics and shit but I'm pretty confident he didn't brainwash me over lunch. We were in a public place, people around, nothing happened on that level, man. And I'm sure you don't think the Red King's ideology is so seductive I'd be, like, compromised, based on the one conversation."
Mitch reflects that it's going to be tricky to pivot from this topic to how Mitch doesn't want Zeb brought in and certainly not torture-interrogated, that he's a harmless old man. Archie is liable to interpret that the wrong way.
Rob
"Memetic contamination is not an ideology, Mitchell, it's an infection." If Marshall is not in the room, Archie gestures for him to come in or someone to get him. "You just told us seven times in under five minutes that this individual was 'a nice guy,' 'a regular guy', 'harmless', 'nice', 'just a guy'. How do you suppose that notion got in your head, and why are you so eager to share it?"
Jeff
"Am I still on speaker?"
Rob
"No, it's just you and me."
Jeff
Mitch sighs heavily into the pay phone handset. "Frank Senior, Archie. Remember him? A dying old man who didn't deserve to have the end of his life be so painful and violent. That, that hasn't sat well with me, man. I don't think old guys who don't have long to live deserve to be carted off to get tortured to death. I don't think that makes me a bad guy."
Rob
"You're not a bad guy, Mitchell. Not a bit of one. You're a good man and a brave man. But you may not be yourself right now."
"I haven't forgotten Frank Senior. It's terrible how that played out. But why, in this moment, would you bring up another 'harmless,' 'regular' agent of the opposition?"
"You need to come in to Livermore, Mitchell. You need to come in now, and you really shouldn't speak with anybody on the way here, or when you get here. Come in and see Marshall and I. We'll get you sorted out, good as new."
Michael
And I have to say, I've thoroughly enjoyed this scene: the cascading paranoias of both Mitch's "there could be Zebs everywhere, man" and Archie's more reserved, country-doctor workmanlike "hop up on the table, we'll make you good as new." This is what the game is about, in a sense: not knowing if your thoughts (and beliefs) are really your own or not. And the fact it happened over the phone is also delightful, very spy-movie tense.
I think, again, she'll just pick a likely nearby spot to keep an eye on the place, especially staff and visitor comings and goings, and at some point call in to Livermore and ask Sophie or whoever else is in the office to have the rest of the street team (Roger and Mitch) meet her there when they're done with their stuff to figure out an approach to getting the tapestry after hours. There's another call coming in on the main office line, and Sophie picks up. It's Jocasta.
After Jo reports in, Sophie will say, "Hello, Jocasta," kind of curtly. "We're just dealing with something right now. I must ask you, if you do see or meet with Mitch, please don't speak with him about what he encountered there in Oakland. Mr. Ransom is currently on the phone analyzing him for possible memetic infection."
Jeff
Mitch lets out a frustrated grunt. "Ugh, Archie, I'm trying to tell you — this isn't a new position I've suddenly adopted, this anti-elderly-torture stance. What happened to Frank Senior has been bothering me for, since it happened, you know? We'll talk about this later, man." He hangs up.
Brant
Marshall walks into Archie's office. He takes a seat across from Archie's desk.
"Sorry about that, trying to figure out this Beth-El transportation thing … Anyway, what's up with our Boy Pyro?"
Michael
Archie was on the phone receiver with Mitch in the library during that last bit and yeah, Mitch just hung up on Archie. Sophie is trying to balance talking to Jocasta who's herself reporting in, Charley who's eager to help however she can, and now the evident phone disconnection with Mitch.
"Jocasta, please hold on one second, I'm very sorry," Sophie says. "Please don't hang up the line."
Sophie infodumps the Mitch Situation for Marshall as Archie collects himself (I'm assuming).
Rob
After Sophie's sketched out the conversation we just had, Archie tells Marshall, "I'm worried Mitchell may have been exposed to memetic contamination. When he comes in — if he comes in — I could use your help in disinfecting or deprogramming him." Archie paces, thinking aloud: "We've gotten so used to Mitch's serendipitous way of running into odd characters. Isn't it just as likely that this individual came looking for Mitch?"
Brant
"Possibly. But we need to be cautious. Mitch is already prone to oppositional behavior. He likely also struggles with conflicting feelings of isolation — his abilities make him so much more, uh, special than us, but at the same time they make it difficult for him to interact with normal society. Starting fires, seeing things, you know, can't really lock down a girlfriend when the waiter looks like a Sumerian lizard-god or whatever. Anyway, my point is that if we push this too hard his reaction may be to double down, run into the embracing arms of someone — some uh entity, whatever — that seems to accept him."
Michael
Sophie says, "Should I have Jo try to find him and gently bring him back home?"
"She might have the best chance of doing so right now."
Brant
"He will be suspicious, now, of any attempt one of us makes to bring him in. If he is intending to come back here, he knows he will make it here without our assistance — that is how it works for him, right? He will hitchhike with some security guard who is conveniently on his way here for third shift, or some family that is moving into that development down the road, or whatever."
"I think the only one he trusts — I use the term loosely — is Roger."
"So my recommendation would be to have Roger track him down."
Michael
"So what orders should I give Jocasta? She's been surveilling Dominoe."
Brant
Marshall looks at Archie. "We need that tapestry. More than Mitch. My suggestion is to have Jocasta retrieve the tapestry, get ahold of Roger, send him to find Mitch, tell him what's up, let him play it by ear — he is savvy, Roger, he will know how best to play it, the Mitch situation, that is."
Rob
"Well, no, we need Mitch, safe and healthy. But you're right — if anyone can bring him in safely, it's Roger." To Sophie: "If you can reach Roger, get him to look for Mitchell, and bring him back to Livermore. Tell Roger not to engage in any unnecessary conversation." To both: "We can't send Jocasta in after the tapestry by herself. She and Roger can go in after hours."
(I like how we're freaking out about Mitch, AND piling on jobs that "Roger can do," while Roger is going completely off script on his own with Moore; OOC of course it's fine if Jo rather than Roger looks for Mitch, or if Mitch just moseys in on his own. But it makes sense that Marshall & Archie would both default to "send Roger")
Jeff
(Mitch and Roger have worked together for a while now, Jo is still very new.)
Leonard
(First: These scenes are amazing, it's truly a trip — and a testament to y'all as players — that no matter what tactics I expect, I get surprised by, say, Roger trying to straight-up talk Moore out of his contamination by playing the devil-at-the-crossroads card, and no matter what interactions I expect, I get surprised by, say, Archie and Mitch going toe-to-toe over whether or not he's being hoodwinked into mercy towards an old man's life and Marshall, of all people, playing the voice of semi-reason. Second, Jo is still hanging on the telephone, under a dirty overpass, all the guy in the taxi in the end credits of Airplane going "I'm gonna give him 20 more minutes, and then I'm leaving". She knew all those years of meditation and disappointment would pay off one day!)
Brant
"Sophie, put Jocasta on speakerphone. Jocasta, can you hear me?"
Jeff
(The institutional sexism is coming from inside the house!)
Jocasta
"I'm here, Marshall. What's going on?"
Brant
"You need to locate Roger, then Mitch. Explain the situation to Roger, ideally without making Mitch uhhh suspicious, I guess. We need Roger to bring Mitch back here, Archie wants it done ASAP. You stay in Oakland — we'll send Roger back to you as soon as we have Mitch. Then the two of you, tonight, need to get that tapestry."
"Can you recite that back to me, please?"
Michael
(fuckin Marshall)
Leonard
"Sorry, couldn't hear that last part, Marshall, you're breaking up. Do you have a 10-20 on Roger or Mitch?"
Brant
Marshall looks at Archie and Sophie. "I … don't think we do? You'll probably need to hail them on the two-way."
Leonard
"Okay, well, I'll do my best. Find Roger and Mitch, explain the 'situation', whatever it is, to Roger and have him get Mitch back to Livermore. We can hit Dominoe when you're ready, but we'll need a good crew; they're under 24-7 eyeball watch. I'll just hang out here unless you need me to get you a cocktail or something. In case they call in, you can buzz me back, I'm just leaving the Nimitz underpass across from a tire shop at 1155 5th Street in Oakland, no need to repeat that back."
Jo will probably assume that Roger is at or near one of Moore's hotspots, either the club or his apartment, so she'll start with drivebys of those places, and then just hope for the best after that. No clue about where Mitch might be, being Mitch and all.
Bill
Roger's car is parked by the club parking lot, so you should find him that way.
Michael
Mitch did say he was calling from the postal service center. Of course he's long gone from there now.
Mitch briefly considers running away to Mount Shasta and roughing it, but that doesn't seem like a credible option. Instead he's going to see if he can track down Zeb. It's only been a few minutes since they parted ways and the old man can't move too fast, right?
Michael
Sure thing. Give me an Observation roll to start.
Although I suppose if you wanted to use Detect History B that would also work.
Jeff
>>>> SUCCESS
I'll swap to deliberate use of History-B only if mundane methods fail me
Michael
Mitch takes a bit of a roundabout journey through the neighborhood on foot, making his way slowly, deliberately, and as unobtrusively as possible from Esther's Orbit Room/the postal distribution center, back east along Seventh towards the park where he first encountered Zeb. Keeping his eyes down all the cross streets, Mitch catches up with Zeb about halfway to that park, hobbling along, guitar on his back.
Right in front of a bar called the Ace of Spades.
"Hey son!" Zeb says brightly. "You forget something?"
Jeff
Mitch falls into step next to him. "Hey, Oldtimer, I just got word. There's a job for you. Need you to take a trip." This isn't optimal for a half-dozen obvious reasons but needs must.
Michael
"Huh?" Zeb says. "What do you mean?"
Jeff
"Mount Shasta, upstate. Get up there, there's a woman who'll meet you and explain further. Your work here is done, you've made the way as ready as it's gonna be." Mitch pulls however much cash he has in his wallet out and gives it to the Oldtimer -- probably a fair bit, in this pre-ATM era and Mitch not fearing getting mugged. "God bless, brother." Mitch tries to split quicklike, before Zeb can ask him any questions, shrugging off as necessary.
(I assume some kind of roll is going to be called for here, if it's something I can get a bonus on through Aura Read I'll want to have read his aura first.)
Michael
Seems like classic Fast-Talk to me. Defaults to IQ-5, I'll give you a +3 for Aura Reading but that's it because this command is, yes, in defiance of what he understands to be his 50-year mission that is now only 48 hours from completion
So IQ-2.
Jeff
>>>> SUCCESS
Michael
As Mitch rushes away (you can tell me, Jeff, if Mitch will look over his shoulder, Lot's wife style; if not this is just for dramatic narrative purposes), Zeb, with his hand full of cash, just opens his hand and lets all those fives and tens flutter away into the brisk late March breeze. Whether Mitch looks back or not, he can hear Zeb over the traffic and the sound of the rattling BART elevated train, saying, "You ain't the Commissioner. You ain't him!" It almost sounds like he's crying. (Critted the Will roll, sorry man.)
Jeff
Shit, well, Mitch did his best.
Bill
Shit.
It was a good roll!
Jeff
Time to face the music, I suppose. Mitch will start making his way towards Livermore on foot (since he doesn't have any cash, as of just now).
Michael
(Got a weird feeling Jocasta may find you first, but we'll get to that.)
Jeff
Actually this might be the time to try the oft-threatened "climb into the passenger seat of a car pointed the right way and stopped at a red light" plan.
Michael
I still am likely to give Jo a chance to track you down, but I want to wait until the Livermore stuff resolves.
Jeff
Ok.
Michael
Roger's … busy.
Jeff
I have another use of Serendipity, right?
Michael
Yeah!
Jeff
So if I can meaningfully activate that at this point then I would like to do that … But hey, no rush.
Michael
That's cool. You want Moore to pop out of the door to the Ace of Spades right now? laugh
Jeff
Crap, I didn't notice that.
Michael
Again, not to railroad, but a scene with Roger coming down off his cheval high (and/or rum) and Mitch right now would be sweet.
But I'm gonna leave the Serendipity in your hands, Jeff. If you want it to be Moore popping out of the bar, you got it. If you want it to be Mitch running into Roger, that's also good. You decide the coincidence, I'll narrate it; that's what the Almighty Rulebook says. All these coincidences are very plausible.
You want it to be hitching a lift to Livermore from a dude driving out to Modesto, that's fine too.
Jeff
On the one hand I like the idea of Mitch meeting Moore right on the heels of Roger meeting Moore, but on the other hand I don't really know what Mitch would have to say to him, especially given Mitch's current state of mind.
But back on that first hand again, I do like the idea of Mitch meeting him.
Michael
So as Mitch turns to go find a freeway on-ramp and a possible ride to Livermore, he notices exiting from the bar a ruffled and hurrying E.L. Moore, a grim scowl on his face, intent on finding his crew, who are nowhere to be seen right now.
Jeff
Mitch snaps his finger and points. "Oh, hey, you're that guy, right? That guy!"
"The oldtimer's guy."
(just noting that even though Roger, inside the bar, didn't hear Mitch, Mitch might notice Roger's car parked on the street)
Michael
Moore sighs upon seeing this. He doesn't seem to necessarily make any kind of connection with "oldtimer's guy." "Aw, man. I can't deal with this, I have had a rough afternoon. Listen, man, no offense, but go back to whatever obscure jazz journal or Berkeley dorm you've crawled out of, and call Dominoe to arrange an interview, okay? I am just not capable at this point."
(just noting that even though Roger, inside the bar, didn't hear Mitch, Mitch might notice Roger's car parked on the street) @Rob MacD The social club where Mansa were practicing this morning is down the street a block or two.
Jeff
Ok first I wanna aura read him
Michael
Yeah, yeah! Do your thing.
>>>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS
>>>> DETECT … SUCCESS
>>>> ANALYZE … SUCCESS
Ugh the one where the margin of success actually matters I succeeded by 0 but I guess that's better than failing
Michael
Yeah, all right. Mr. Moore's aura is a complicated swirling stew of emotions right now, and they're all VERY fresh. Pride, anger, frustration, fear, anxiety, and hope all fight for primacy in his multi-colored aura. He's also a little bit physically exhausted (down an FP or two). Overall health is good, though he does appear to have some respiratory issues (asthma maybe?) and Mitch can confirm the childhood bout of polio mentioned in the Rolling Stone piece FBI report. He's not really able to run at anything approaching top speed. (edited)
Not getting anything much deeper than that from the Emotion Sense portion of the aura reading. His Will seems to be pretty strong.
(Respiratory issues, Mitch thinks, very bad for a horn player)
Jeff
Do I need to detect to be sure there's no History B taint?
Michael
I would say, yes. The aura reading doesn't show any, but if you want to be sure.
Mitch, give me a snap Observation roll
>>>> SUCCESS
Michael
Yeah, while you're doing all this aura analysis, Jo did a quiet drive-by
Jeff
Mitch takes 1 FP and tries Detect again.
>>>> ACTIVATE … FAILURE
Michael
Unreliable.
Jeff
Again.
>>>> ACTIVATE … SUCCESS
>>>> DETECT … SUCCESS
>>>> ANALYZE … SUCCESS
no mos but still a hit is a hit
Michael
There is no trace of History B taint on E.L. Moore. There's also none in the general area around Moore. (Even though the Ace of Spades bar was named that thanks to the proliferation of the Kusarikku "bucket and spade" meme, History B taint doesn't stick to stuff like that. Like, the Kusarikku itself hasn't been hanging around here.)
(If you'd seen the name change, Back to the Future-style, then maybe. But the important thing here is: E.L. Moore, trumpeter and mastermind behind the funk group Mansa: not a secret Irruptor, not a cultist, not someone who spends a lot of time around History B objects or ideas or taint.)
He's not packing a reality shard, for instance.
Jeff
OK so Mitch stands there for three seconds staring at the guy and then says "what? No man I'm not a reporter, I'm, uh, just a guy. I like your music, can I buy you a drink?"
Mitch has forgotten again he doesn't have any money
Michael
Give me a Reaction roll, at a -3 because of how badly Maitre Carrefour rattled him.
Jeff
>>>> 3d6 … 6
Ouch
Michael
"Listen, sorry man, I'm a little busy right now. Some other time, yeah? Come to the concert Saturday, I'll make some time and have a drink, okay?"
Moore then hustles as quick as he can with a bum leg back down the block towards the social club where Mansa was rehearsing.