Repent! Spring is nigh! (open)

[Bobby Drake]

(( OOC: Open to anyone who feels like receiving a personalized melted iceman as an on-camera going-away gift… ))

One down, seventeen to go, Bobby thinks as he closes his dorm room door behind him and heads down the hall towards target number two.

His current project had started a few weeks ago with his decision to go to college out-of-state, and wanting some kind of leave-taking ritual for his friends at the Institute. Throwing a going-away party for himself had seemed tacky, though, so he’d decided instead to make some personal gifts for them to remember him by.

He’d been inspired by a novelty item he’d seen in a drug store once, a melted snowman. In the same spirit, he’d purchased a collection of glass jars and “Iceman” action figures and assembled several “melted Iceman” jars – water and one of the uniforms from the action figures – each with some additional items related to the person the gift was for.

All of which had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he’s having second thoughts… the whole thing is feeling incredibly goofy, and in some cases embarrassingly sappy. Still, he’s already assembled them, so he’s decided to go ahead with it anyway. Besides, the most embarrassing part of the whole operation was Sam finding the bag full of Iceman dolls without their uniforms on… at least now he knows what that was all about.

[Christopher Bertrand]

((Well, this should be entertaining, if nothing else. Explain a melted iceman to Christopher...))

After a rather pleasurable cruise along the beautiful streams that compose the Internet, Christopher walks down the hallway, aware at the back of his mind that he should try to shake off the whole must-think-like-computing-unit effect induced by said pleasurable cruise. Still, it is going to be a while before he can enter completely normal conversations, and this is assuming that he does not manage to come up with an excuse to use a computer once more.

Yesterday, it was a sudden urge to grade projects. The day before, it was the sudden urge to reorganize all of his files...four times, despite the fact that he already knew which one would be most efficient. That one was the most persuasive excuse so far (Well, people without hyper-processing capabilities do the try-and-see-what-fits-the-mold-best process, so the best way to be more like a normal person must be going through the process of trying out all four systems of organization...the computer interface is purely accidental, really it is).

Well, at least it is not as bad as when he first started out with the use of his mutation. After the first month, he was so crazed that he was trying to have philosophical discussions with a microwave. What's worse, the microwave's arguments were rather powerful.

As he walks, he spots Bobby Drake. He does not know a whole lot about the kid, but he does feel somewhat familiar to him. It's probably because of that thing in the institute's computer system that identifies itself as Drake. Now those were interesting conversations.

"Good day, Robert Drake," Chris greets the boy and then has to pause for a moment and create an awkward silence as the brain tells the processor that "Bobby" is alright. "Er...Bobby...I mean..." he edits, and then congratulates himself inwardly for remembering to add the "er" and the pauses, and make it seem like he really is sorry. He even remembers to put a smile on his face!

"What...fun...activity are you partaking in?" the question is just a little bit on the weird side, but the "fun" part helps out, right? Right?

[Laurie Collins]

((But Bob who will angst all over you in college??))
Even in rebellion, Laurie’s found, she’s become fairly predictable. Mornings have started to consist of making toast, usually blowing off Civics, trying to read, and then giving up and taking a walk around the regular basement looking at the graffiti on the old desks or the old globe. It’s a huge old thing, from the fifties at least, with all the strange old permutations of land division still inscribed like fact. That’s nice for awhile but in the end it doesn’t cover anything up and she usually finds herself walking again which is what she’s doing now- backpack slung over one shoulder, face set, and shoulders hunched as she makes her way back to her room to drop her books off before going outside, probably to the lake.

She’s so distracted by all this, just like most days lately, that she almost bowls right into Bob and Mr. Bertrand before she’s even realized they’re there, much less who they are. “Shit. Sorry.” She mutters perfunctorily, still not really looking up, moving right along… and then her eye catches one of the glass jars in Bob’s hands. Water and an X-men uniform? Wha- bemusement wins out over fugue for the moment and she stops, looks around at all the various and sundry contributors to her confusion, before focusing on Bob. That in and of itself is also somewhat bemusing since she’s so far negotiated the mix of resentment, jealousy, sadness, and understanding she feels about his decision to take off to college in much the same way she’s chosen to deal with everything else lately—just not doing it.

There’s an awkward moment where she just stands there sort of blank-faced and then she’s relaxing, or at least making the effort, and smiling a little uncertainly. Bob’s leaving and Mr. Bertrand’s probably one of the only teachers I haven’t pissed off yet. Maybe dusting off the last shards of sane conversation are in order, she thinks wryly as she nods towards Bob’s load. “Taking your mysterious jars for a walk?” she tries, tilting her head slightly to one side.

[Bobby Drake]

His knock on the dorm-room door goes unanswered, which is disappointing... but a few moments later, Mr. Bertrand comes wandering down the hall, so his mission is not a complete failure.

> "Good day, Robert Drake. Er...Bobby...I mean... What...fun...activity are you partaking in?"

Bobby can't help but wince at the man's clumsy attempt at social niceties, though he has to admit the simulation of awkwardness and enthusiasm has definitely improved. Bobby’s own awkwardness, by contrast, is entirely unfeigned.

"Um... yeah. Well..." he trails off, uncertain as to just how far back he needs to go for this to make sense to Chris.

He'd been uncertain to begin with as to whether to make a “snowman” for Chris... it's not like they've been particularly close over the last year. On the other hand, he feels a certain sympathy for the man that he doubts anyone else at the Institute shares; after all, Bobby's had the experience of cyberpathy and the associated blunting of emotions. He has a pretty good idea what Chris’ experience is.

He's never admitted this to anyone, but there are times when he misses it. It made a lot of things more complicated, but it made a lot of the important things simpler.

And then, of course, he remembers what it cost him.

> "Shit. Sorry. Taking your mysterious jars for a walk?"

He's a little startled by Laurie’s appearance, though less so than he might have been a few months ago. Lately she’s been unusually peripatetic, as well as unusually withdrawn… not that she was ever the world’s most outgoing person, but it’s changed. She used to scan her surroundings all the time, as though looking out for interactions to avoid; now she’s usually staring off into the middle distance, or at her shoes.

Which, when he thinks about it, he realizes he also has some experience with. Especially given the rumors he’s hearing about her blowing off classes, getting into fights, etc. It all reminds him an awful lot of the year or so he went through after Alcatraz. And, given what Laurie went through during their… trip (because, really, “trip to the future” is still too absurd to actually say, even in the privacy of his own mind), it isn’t surprising that she’s going through something similar.

He keeps meaning to talk to her about it, but he’s really not sure how. “Gee, Laurie, I’ve noticed you’re going through an emotional fugue, probably because your experiences in the future have made you question everything you’ve been doing with your life. Wanna talk about it?” She’d just sneer at him and move on down the hall, and he wouldn’t blame her.

No… actually, that’s not fair, he realizes. She might even appreciate the effort, she’d almost certainly be polite. The truth is just as much that he’s reluctant to talk about it. And, hey, he might be completely off-base, just projecting his own feelings onto her. Lord knows he’s done that before.

"Hi, Laurie! No, I’m… " he trails off again, realizing that explaining things to both of them at once is going to be even more awkward, and finally just decides to go ahead with it. "Well, they’re going-away gifts, I guess you could say. Here…” he shuffles through his bag to find Laurie’s, figuring it will require less explanation, and hands it to her a little embarrassed. Like the rest of them, hers has “Iceman in Summer” stenciled on the bottom, and the miniature Iceman uniform floating in a sealed jar of water. Hers also has several plastic goldfish with plastic knives embedded in them, a small Frank Sinatra doll, and a large purple plastic question mark floating in it. "This one’s yours."

Turning back to Chris, he hands the man his jar. "And this one’s yours. They’re… well, they’re a little like symbolic pointers, I guess. They’re supposed to remind you of me, after I’m gone. " All it has floating in it is a few integrated circuit boards, which Bobby feels sorta lame about… but, again, it’s not like they’d had much in the way of personal interactions for him to reference. To make up for it – not that Chris was likely to feel slighted, or appreciative, or really much of anything, but primarily to make Bobby himself feel better– he’d attached an extra item, which he hands Chris as well. "And this is a data CD, with information about folks around the Institute… nicknames, hobbies, the kinds of jokes they laugh at, a few other things. I tried to index it so it’d make sense to you… thought it might come in handy for, you know, socializing. I built something similar for myself, you know, back when I was – back, last year, and it helped some."

He shrugs, more embarrassed than he thought he’d be, aware that he’s blushing furiously and aware that, while Chris likely won’t read much into it, Laurie certainly will. "Anyway, I know, it’s all kind of silly, but…" he shrugs defensively, "…I dunno. Just something I wanted to do before I go."

[Laurie Collins]

"Hi, Laurie! No, I’m… "
Laurie blinks, startled out of her guarded sullenness for a moment by the way he’s shuffling and hesitating and just generally exuding a sort of bashfulness she isn’t used to from him. It’s actually making her a little nervous herself, emotionally suggestible as she is, and she raises her eyebrows a bit apprehensively.

“Well, they’re going-away gifts, I guess you could say. Here… This one’s yours."

She takes the jar and automatically smiles in puzzled thanks at the offer of…a jar with plastic replicas of dead fish and doll clothes? She frowns for a moment, then turns the jar a bit to read the label, recognizes the Sinatra doll, and laughs in the abrupt, almost harsh, way you get into when you haven’t laughed in awhile and haven’t been expecting to. “The Sinatra fish-killer,” she mutters, shaking her hair out of her eyes and grinning up at him for a second before shaking the jar a little, an indomitable impulse when holding any sort of snow-globe-like object, and watching the fish and doll bob around. “Thanks,” she adds, bringing her other hand up to cradle the bottom of the jar, not really trusting herself not to fumble something with so much mess-making potential and giving him another quick smile.

Shouldn’t we be the ones getting him going away gifts though? she thinks with a bit of a guilty start, realizing that she’s been so absorbed in how she feels about one of her friends and a until-now assumed fixed point of Institute life suddenly changing and just leaving that she hasn’t really thought about he’ll be feeling about it. Well if he feels bad he can just stay, can’t he, instead of just jumping out just when everything’s supposed to go to hell. The Washington Massacre happens any day now, they said sometime soon anyway, and his response is to give up and leave everyone else to deal with it? She frowns and tightens her grip on the jar a bit, biting her tongue to hold herself back from bursting out with any of that because it’s not fair, she knows it’s not, and she doesn’t want to start a fight right before he leaves, especially when he’s being nice.

And then his explanation to Mr. Bertrand pretty much takes the wind out of her indignant sails, or at least the last bit does-
“… I built something similar for myself, you know, back when I was – back, last year, and it helped some."
Because then she has to remember the whole cyber-thing and remembering that sort of forcibly reminds her that just since she’s been here he’s been kidnapped, tortured, forcibly cured, stripped of all his emotions and almost killed by it, pried into by Primer, shattered in ice form, and then topped it all off by seeing that his reward for getting through all that is to turn into a mutant dictator who runs the future equivalent of the death camps. Which all makes it a little hard to be mad that he wants to do something as normal and expected as go a state away to college like everyone else. And if it keeps him from turning into ‘Colonel Drake’…

"Anyway, I know, it’s all kind of silly, but…I dunno. Just something I wanted to do before I go."

“It’s cool,” she says quietly, then looks up again and raises an eyebrow, “and you really think I’m going to be the one to judge you for being a dork?” she adds wryly, wagging the jar at him slightly in mock-chastisement. “Where did you end up deciding on, to go away to, anyway?” she asks, a little embarrassed she hasn’t actually asked before now but deciding late is better than never and trying her best to play ‘perfectly-happy-for-you’ without anything else making it’s way into her tone.

[Bobby Drake]

> " The Sinatra fish-killer, "

Bobby nods, grinning sheepishly at the fact that she remembered. He’s pretty sure she appreciates the gift, though he has to admit the set of emotions flashing across her face is pretty complicated, and not entirely pleasant-looking, and he wonders what she’s thinking.

> " you really think I’m going to be the one to judge you for being a dork?"

He shrugs cheerfully. "Well, you know how it is. Mostly, I judge me and other people stand there and watch." He regrets saying it almost as soon as it comes out of his mouth, though, a little too broadly true for the circumstances.

> " Where did you end up deciding on, to go away to, anyway? "

And it’s still kinda awkward, but she’s making an effort and he appreciates that. "Sloane. Cambridge, Mass… I figure that’s not too far away if you guys need me, but -- " he cuts himself off before finishing the sentence with “still far enough away,” and bumbles a bit before adding "it’s a damned good business school, and I can take classes in other stuff – you know, like law and science and stuff – at other schools in the area, they have arrangements with Harvard and MIT and stuff. "

At least, he should be able to if he manages to get through four years of school without being too interrupted by mutant business. The odds of which, he realizes, are fairly low… but he’s going to try his best. At least, once this business with Washington is taken care of.

[Christopher Bertrand]

The wince makes it blatantly obvious that Chris' conversational skills really aren't anywhere near being adequate, but he is trying, he really is. It's just that, at the moment, the inner Chris' shrieks of how to handle the situation and how to come off as a perfectly normal guy are landing harshly into an impenetrable wall of logic which dominates the upper consciousness at the moment.

Then Collins shows up, and Christopher takes a step back, as if to allow the two room for reminiscence, though it is a purely mental process, without much flourishing gestures involved.

> "And this one’s yours. They’re… well, they’re a little like symbolic pointers, I guess. They’re supposed to remind you of me, after I’m gone."

Christopher looks at it, and starts spinning it in his hand, trying to figure out what it does. He can see the water, and he can see the clothes, and memory flashes back to the one day at the Mall, when he first witnessed the Iceman Dolls. Of course, the logic is there, and he sees how it is supposed to amuse him, but it doesn't.

"I see...this is supposed to be entertaining." it is just an observation, but it comes off as probably the most nazistically cruel thing to say yet, so he needs to elaborate.

"It is rather amusing, really, it is just that, at the moment, I lack the capability to effectively laugh, and since emanating a noise that is supposed to simulate the emotion would not convey the emotion itself, due to its being forced and not genuine, I am inclined to believe it will sound even more beneficial to the possible impression of my attempting to cause emotional distress to you. I can see that the other details are supposed to symbolize it as a personalized gift for me, and you are probably referring to the one connection we have enjoyed, and that is through computer class. Ironically enough, though, it holds a double meaning, since Robert Drake is still present in the computer system. In fact, I enjoy some long chess games with this entity quite frequently. It will be rather impossible to avoid the memory of you, since the entity insists on calling itself your name. The gesture, however, is not lost on me, I am just incapacitated in the area of expressing the gratitude effectively." he throws one of the "digestions" he has apparently become famous for, and tries a smile. Really, he does. He gives it an honest shot.

The result is a twitch of the lips. Chris is screaming on the inside and pounding the wall.

>And this is a data CD, with information about folks around the Institute… nicknames, hobbies, the kinds of jokes they laugh at, a few other things. I tried to index it so it’d make sense to you… thought it might come in handy for, you know, socializing. I built something similar for myself, you know, back when I was – back, last year, and it helped some."

Christopher takes the CD and actually manages to nod his head. "This will indubitably become a rather useful compilation of data. I will certainly upload it and allow myself constant access to it, although I will make the necessary precautions for the possibility of someone attempting to hack the system. Truth be told, there is a mere 11% chance that someone could get through with the new securities that i have implemented, and it goes down to but 3% if I am focused upon the intrusion. This does not, however, account for another cyberpathic mutant, since none seem to have been reported, save for your short escapade into the domain."

He decides to just skip over the so-called "Sinatra Fish-killer," deeming the information unworthy and inconsequential the moment before his mind implodes in the attempt of processing what apparently is a product of idle teenage minds.

>"Anyway, I know, it’s all kind of silly, but…I dunno. Just something I wanted to do before I go."

"I assure you, Drake, it is rather appreciated. However, your statement puzzles me. Is the representation of yourself as water in a jar, which by the way is absurd considering that your mutation has proven time and again that it is not easy to melt you just like that, not supposed to be...silly?" Christopher is rather happy with that question, actually, despite the unintentional bash. The reason for his pride is the fact that he has managed to place both an accent and an effective pause into his sentence. Otherwise, the whole thing would have been spoken in the monotone voice of Christopher-after-computers.

[Bobby Drake]

> " I see...this is supposed to be entertaining. "

"Well, that was the theory, yes." From anyone else, that would be an insult, but with Chris that’s unlikely… not to mention pretty much impossible to tell. He is amused, though, by the man’s decision to explain his lack of amusement, at length. He could always adopt the Wile E. Coyote approach, and carry around a bunch of small signs with smileys on them, he thinks idly.

> " it holds a double meaning, since Robert Drake is still present in the computer system. In fact, I enjoy some long chess games with this entity quite frequently. It will be rather impossible to avoid the memory of you, since the entity insists on calling itself your name. "

"Mm," nods Bobby noncommittally, as he’s been doing at periodic intervals throughout Chris’ monotone monologue. He then does a sputtering double-take as the meaning of that particular stretch of words filters down. "I – he – what?!??!"

[Christopher Bertrand]

Needless to say, Christopher is at a loss for words. He is not that well equipped in surviving social awkwardness. He starts trying to figure it out, and it takes about twenty seconds for him to actually react.

"Is that reaction one signifying surprise? I would usually associate it with a miscarried portion of liquid in your throat, but there is only one source of such a thing, and the possibility of you having been drinking the water from your jars is negligible. Did some of my information cause a certain dose of confusion? If so, what might that information be, and how would you have it rephrase, so as to clarify?" he asks, and notices the he actually raises an eyebrow as he says this. It is purely reflexive, and that small detail ends up preoccupying all of his pride at the moment.

Chris is happy.

Christopher is confused.

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby bites down hard on the urge to interrupt Christopher’s monologue… he knows from experience that trying to do so will only slow down the process of finding out what the guy is talking about. He can’t even be upset about it; it’s just the way the man is, and Bobby remembers – albeit hazily – what it was like to be in his place. It’s not a question of understanding, it’s a question of having the same things matter.

Still, he can’t help but exchange a silent wail with Laurie as he listens.

Afterwards, he chooses his words carefully. "I’m surprised that there’s something in our computer system calling itself ‘Robert Drake’. What do you know about it? I’m particularly interested in how it got there and why it’s using that name."

[Christopher Bertrand]

Chris pauses to think for a while. The only relations he has made to Robert Drake are those as he interfaces with the computer system. The binary system does not translate into English very well. He knows the needed information, it is the stating-it-so-that-everyone-understands part that gets him.

"There is a sentient, thinking process within the computer system that calls itself Robert Drake. It does not identify itself as you, but rather uses the one name it is aware of. I am inclined to believe that it is the final product of the forced mutation that was being processed through your system due to the Mutant Growth Syndrome..." he pauses, his eyes squint a little, and then he goes on, "I have not been present at the time, but there is abundant information within the system at the Institute, and I have found a few side routes to the data as well," which is really only a nice way of saying that he has hacked into quite a few computers on the net. A young man with an idle mind capable of dominating any computer is a dangerous thing when the law is considered.

"It has installed some surveillance systems while it was still in dominion over your mind, even though the truth of it is that you were really it, but I have had to work a bit on perusing them successfully. They are very finely calibrated to Robert Drake, so it is easier to access the Alien Intelligence for the data instead. The problem with this, however, is that the system is innately programmed to discard a significant portion of the collected data, so as to symbolize the memories that you might have formed, or were at least expected to but could not due to the mutation. Right before the mutation was purged from your body, the system apparently copied itself successfully into the system, or translated its being in some other way. It remains Robert Drake in its identity, but it lacks emotion," which is why it has been so easy to communicate with it after a few hours' worth of interface, "and the more human characteristics. It is capable of high speed data processing which is close to matching my own, so I tend to use it in some tasks I am less inclined to perform when I am closer to the emotional range that I should have." he finishes, and the last part reminds him that he needs to do that more frequently.

"Naturally, you realize that about 37.63 percent of the information I have given you is based upon relatively accurate speculations, as derived from the given data." he adds an afterthought, simply assuming that everyone in this world is capable of such a simple calculation. All that is needed is maybe one or two fixed parameters, and he was given that much at the moment of calculation. Which was somewhere halfway through his speech.

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby mostly tries not to think too much about the time he spent on MGH, especially the last week or two. Not that it’s traumatic… it isn’t, really, although quite a lot of it is embarrassing in retrospect.

Mostly, it’s just too disorienting remembering himself as being such a different mind. He’d known he was dying, but he hadn’t really cared… at least, not in any way he currently recognizes as caring. He’d been interested, but not worried, or anxious, or… well, not in any way emotional about it. The whole experience changed his attitude towards emotions, made him appreciate how important it is to actually care about what he’s doing; consequently, remembering how detached he’d been during those months is difficult for him.

Still, he does have those memories, and Christopher’s summary is bringing them into his awareness… not entirely comfortably.

> " I am inclined to believe that it is the final product of the forced mutation that was being processed through your system due to the Mutant Growth Syndrome... It has installed some surveillance systems…the system apparently copied itself successfully into the system, or translated its being in some other way " *

"Oh." Surprisingly, that actually makes sense, though he’d never considered the possibility before. "Yeah. I… remember. Sorta. The mutation was getting more powerful… I spilled over into the network, before Reed and Hank saved my life. I thought that was the end of it, but… you’re saying I stayed in there, somehow? Or…" he remembers purging himself of “extraneous” directives, memories, impulses "some kind of degraded copy of me did. Huh."

He’s not sure how he feels about that, or how he’s supposed to feel. It isn’t him, he’s clear about that… but it’s not independent of him, either.

"I remember the surveillance gadgets, too. You’re absolutely right, I built them to store only what I’d remember in the first place, so I could just upload the memories… it’d be too much data, otherwise. I’d forgotten about them…" He does a classic double-take as the implications become suddenly clear. "Geez, you mean they’re still running? Fuck, I put those – ” …everywhere, he thinks but doesn’t say out loud. He’d put them wherever things were happening, things he was interested in. Group activities. Planning meetings. Social interactions. With no more understanding of privacy than Josh’s dog has.

It’s not the first time Bobby has quietly prayed for the earth to open up and swallow him whole to spare himself the embarrassment of having fucked up, but each time feels unique and complete unto itself. His only consolation is that the surveillance gadgets have no transmission or standard output capability; they were only designed for cyberpathic access. He hadn’t really considered the possibility of another cyberpath joining the Institute ranks.

"Um… yeah. So, Chris… if you know where they are, I’d recommend you shut them down… at least, the ones that aren’t in public locations. It, um… well, putting them up was not the best idea I ever had."

---

* For those of you who weren’t around back during Bob’s cyberpath period, the thread Chris & Bob are referencing is over here.

[Christopher Bertrand]

> ...some kind of degraded copy of me did. Huh."

"I am severely disinclined to refer to it as such. It has developed rather independently, and has become a comprehensive, sentient system. It refers to itself as Robert Drake because its original form also identified itself as such, since you managed to retain some of your characteristics despite the Mutant Growth Hormone. However, over the time it has spent apart from your nervous system, it has become a thinking unit of its own. Its basis remains logic, as it should be, and the fact that it is apart from any emotions you might have had the ability to retain and infect it with provides for its lack of your characteristics." he explains in the voice of someone who is explaining why dividing with a fraction is the equivalent of multiplying the number by the fraction's reciprocal to a very dumb high school student-- with lots of patience and careful choice of words. Well, perhaps not the most careful of choices.

> "Geez, you mean they’re still running? Fuck, I put those – "

"What relevant impact does sexual intercourse have upon this conversation? I assure you, the program is quite incapable of multiplying itself-- the permanent change it experiences prevents it from effectively proliferating." It's words like those, the fillers, that force Chris to ask questions after he has spent some time around computers. It simply makes no sense.

>"Um… yeah. So, Chris… if you know where they are, I’d recommend you shut them down… at least, the ones that aren’t in public locations. It, um… well, putting them up was not the best idea I ever had."

"I have disabled those devices the presence of which I do not deem worthy. Some of the data they might collect seemed rather irrelevant, so those were the first to be disabled. The others, however, I intend on keeping, since they provide good practice in free time. If I manage to recalibrate them, the Institute would end up having an additional protective layer, which, judging from the history of the building and its guests, is crucial. Besides, their specific format allows for a very safe data transfer, since it is impossible for a non-cyberpathic person to access them." He sees absolutely nothing wrong with the cameras being set in the more private of places, and the prospect of what might go on in those does not seem even remotely as disturbing as it might to the two youths in front of him.

[Bobby Drake]

>> " some kind of degraded copy of me did. Huh. "
> " I am severely disinclined to refer to it as such. [..] Its basis remains logic, as it should be, and the fact that it is apart from any emotions you might have had the ability to retain and infect it with provides for its lack of your characteristics. "

Bobby manages to keep a straight face at this observation, though his lips do quirk with amusement. There’s a lot he could say here about the relative virtues of emotion and logic, but there seems little point to saying any of it. So he settles for "Mm. We’ll have to agree to disagree on that, I think."

> " What relevant impact does sexual intercourse have upon this conversation? I assure you, the program is quite incapable of multiplying itself -- the permanent change it experiences prevents it from effectively proliferating. "

This actually does get a laugh, which Bobby feels somewhat guilty about. The guy can’t help it, as he knows from experience... but that doesn’t make it any less funny. "That’s good to know… thanks for clearing that up." he manages to choke out, and leaves it at that.

>> " I’d recommend you shut them down… at least, the ones that aren’t in public locations."
> " The others, however, I intend on keeping, since they provide good practice in free time"

Bobby sighs, knowing perfectly well that Chris will be approximately as concerned with privacy as Bobby himself was when he put the devices up. "I’m sure they do. It’s just…" he trails off, trying to figure out how to put this in terms Chris will care about. "Well, let me put it this way: people’s emotional reactions to finding those gadgets in spaces designated private will have long-term pragmatic consequences. Without knowing the type and severity of those consequences, risking them is illogical."

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie had cut off whatever awkward small talk she was about to make on Sloane College: One Hell of a Business Program and Far Away from Xavier’s when Chris had started speaking because even she can recognize that what he’s saying way out-weirds and out-awkwards whatever weirdness she and Bob were just working out. At first she just sort of shuffles around in the background and looks awkward, not really getting what’s going on, though she grimaces back at Bob’s silent wail automatically. She’s fine with using computers sure, she’d even hazard to say that she’s better than most at finding her way around an application because she actually reads all the little instruction packets and remembers them while most people just sort of poke around, but with the actual way computers work she’s pretty much hopeless. As a result it takes her awhile to catch on to the fact that they’re talking about some version of Bobby, the one she’d seen at the intramurals club, the one that had almost died, living in the Institute’s computer system which is…well it’s several layers of strange and disturbing. How much of Bobby is it really? I mean the mutation didn’t create a whole other person did it? So it’s…it’s like those psykes Rogue has? So…

She shakes her head slightly, looking over at Bob in concerned sympathy, opening her mouth to interject something, and then what Mr. Bertrand is saying hits her-
"It has installed some surveillance systems while it was still in dominion over your mind, even though the truth of it is that you were really it, but I have had to work a bit on perusing them successfully..”
He can’t mean…
"I remember the surveillance gadgets, too…Geez, you mean they’re still running? Fuck, I put those – ”
“…The others, however, I intend on keeping, since they provide good practice in free time…”

She’s stayed silent through that exchange and other than blanching backwards rather obviously and crossing her arms over her stomach has stayed out of it completely. Now she starts to step back towards them then obviously thinks better of the motion, face flushed and expression conflicted. On the one hand she knows Bobby can’t help anything he did while he was on MGH anymore than she could help scaring him any of the numerous times she’d lost control of her pheromones around him when she’d first come back to the Institute. On the other hand, however, she’s always been an almost ridiculously private person and the idea of cameras everywhere and Mr. Bertrand of all people watching…

“Wait, you…he…where exactly are these cameras?” she stammers out in Bob’s direction then rounds on Mr. Bertrand who she has no hesitation about being angry with, “And you’re still watching them? To practice?! What the hell does that even… is the…the cyber-version or whatever of him still floating around watching us too?” she finishes, flailing a gesture out to indicate Bobby though she still isn’t looking at him, doesn’t particularly want to right now.