The Consequence of Sounds (Open.)

[Arthur Coleman]

Shallow dips of slender fingers strike each note with practiced precision, the low rumble of bass notes resonating throughout the room in hauntingly beautiful echoes of Gloomy Sunday. The man's back is perpendicular to the piano bench, his fingertips pressing each key into the piano in such a way that the instrument would seems to be voicing objection instead of a somber melody.

Arthur is lost in his own world, the door to the music room slightly ajar, suggesting that perhaps he should be left alone, and yet at the same time not shutting out those who would wish to venture within. For the past two hours there has been nothing but music coming from the erratically arranged classroom, piano piece after piano piece with only a moment's pause in between them.

He's playing the keys of his inner turmoil.

There is little to be said about Arthur's musical antics. He found solace alone in his music, boxing himself off on all sides instead of pouring out his problems to someone even if they were willing to listen. Judging from how long Arthur has been at the keys, how continuous each song flows from one to the next, there's apparently a lot on his mind. Although, this would not be the first time Arthur would find himself backed into a corner with nowhere to go, nor would it be the last. It was simply his powers making someone else's problems his own, and because of his damned morales he promised he wouldn't tell anyone what his mind was seeing. Granted, the Cure had helped him, but when he let his mind open just the slightest when it came to finding things, some story would jump out at him. Would it be rude to confront the girl that thought no one cared for her? Step into a lover's quarrel to keep someone from getting hurt? Even though it was none of his business? Perhaps.

That was partially why he stood aside, acting as though he was really blind to everything. In truth, Arthur saw more than most people with sight did.

"Last of all Sundays..," he sings softly along, his fingers at last resting on the final note.

Silence.

[Bobby Drake]

The sounds of Arthur Coleman’s piano playing attract Robert, not so much for their aesthetic properties as their acoustic ones.

He’s been experimenting with using his new powers to interface with recording devices, discovering some interesting strengths and limitations in the process. Even the simplest digital recorder is sufficiently “computerized” for him to read it, he’s found, although tape recorders and similar analog devices don’t register at all. And any such recorder functions as an audio bug for him, even if it doesn’t have a transmitter, as long as it’s in his range.

However, he’s also found that he can technopathically more sophisticated hardware devices to filter and format input in ways that make them much easier to interface with… almost like auxiliary parts of his sensory cortex. (Ironically, the resulting object code is so unlike anything generated through a normal programmatic interface that it’s practically impossible to reverse engineer, or Robert would be making a fortune marketing advanced software algorithms.)

The results of his most recent experiments along those lines are in his hands now: a simple audio pickup connected to a set of computer chips he has carefully programmed to be an auxiliary ear. The whole assemblage is about the size of a pack of gum, and now it’s time to test it, and the music room is an excellent place to start… if he’s programmed the “ear” correctly, it should be able to listen past all kinds of background noise and attend to interesting input like voices, just like his own brain does.

"Hello, Arthur Coleman," he greets the piano player as he walks in. The last time they were both in the music room together, he remembers, was the day Jean Grey returned from her disappearance. Mr. Coleman had been significantly debilitated by the aftershocks of that, and had left the Institute shortly thereafter; Robert hasn’t has occasion to interact with him very much since then.

He wonders idly whether he appears any different to the older man’s psionic senses. Josh Dalton has indicated that his interface with the Institute’s computer network makes his mind difficult to access telepathically, but Robert hasn’t tested that effect systematically yet… it might be just a peculiarity of Josh Dalton’s specific abilities.

"Please, do not allow me to interrupt you," he adds, as he places his cybernetic ear in a corner of the room. "I’m merely experimenting with my new capabilities."

[Arthur Coleman]

The peaceful silence of the final chord is broken as someone's psyche thrums in the distance, closing in quickly and making Arthur start slightly as his head snaps up towards the door. Hello, Arthur Coleman. The introduction sounds robotic and mechanical, and this forces the man's face to go completely blank as he struggles to register a name and an identity. The emotional pattern is so.. different.. there.. almost isn't one, and this frightens the man so inwardly for a moment that he forgets that he is supposed to be figuring out who this is. "Oh.. Bobby..," he says at last,"..forgive me. I.. almost didn't recognize you." 'Recognize' was a term used loosely with Arthur. Often he relied heavily on the sounds of someone walking, or the way they spoke to dictate a person's identity. He had committed voice patterns and sounds of those close to him to memory, but there were so many students and staff members that Arthur does not know, and he's having a difficult time trying to remember them all.

Oh to be able to see a face--how much easier this would be.

Please, do not allow me to interrupt you, I’m merely experimenting with my new capabilities." It is not so much Bobby's abilities that render Arthur momentarily speechless as his seemingly change of personality. It's like listening to a computer, or his computer, as it reads things aloud to him in its usual, flat, mechanical tone. His hands hover precariously over the keys, as though he is thinking of picking up where he left off and acting as though this situation is not uncomfortable to him, but his fingers curl, and his hands retreat towards his lap. "...new capabilities..?" Arthur asks, his fine brows arching slightly as he seemed to think. He had heard some inkling of Robert's new addition of powers, but he had never had the chance--or perhaps the heart--to ask about it.

"If I may ask, what exactly are these.. capabilities you speak of?" Curiosity is getting the best of Arthur, although he knows better than to meddle into something that would be better left alone.

[Bobby Drake]

> “If I may ask, what exactly are these.. capabilities you speak of?”

Robert looks up abruptly at the unexpected question, then nods after a moment. "Of course you may." It still surprises him when people ask about his current state, given that the information is stored in the Institute’s databases. Of course, he knows that other people don’t have the same kind of instinctive access to that information that he now does, but he keeps expecting them to. Strange.

"The technical term is ‘cyberpathy,’" he explains, "a formerly theoretical mutant ability to interface telepathically with electronic and computerized systems. Similar to your own abilities in some ways, except involving technological rather than organic systems, and more versatile… I can output as well as input, for example. "

As he explains, he finishes affixing his cybernetic ear to the wall and “tunes in” to it briefly to make sure it’s functioning properly. With a satisfied nod, he turns back to the door, making his way almost through it before it occurs to him that the question was probably meant as a conversational gambit rather than a simple request for information.

He returns his attention to his former music teacher, not entirely sure how to continue, deciding finally that it might be helpful to explain the communications difficulty itself. "One side-effect involves inhibition of non-cortical behavioral brain functions – emotional and social interaction, for example. The effect is related to pervasive developmental disorders such as late-onset Asperger syndrome. If I appear unfriendly or socially awkward, that is most likely the reason. Also, if you are experiencing difficulty with respect to your awareness of my mental state, that is undoubtedly the reason… also, the cyberpathic interface process itself seems to inhibit certain kinds of telepathic access." Curious, he adds "Are you experiencing difficulty with it?"