IC INBOX

[hippie_ninja]

This is Jesus. Leave a message.

Comments

[hippie_ninja]

"V took having to move pretty hard." He worries but he sounds mostly fond as he says it. He's never met anyone so upset about having privileges.

[konstant]

"He told me that anywhere he finds a system that punches down, it's evil and he punches up against it," K answers, thoughtful.

"He was worried we'd be in danger being around him now. I'm worried he'll isolate because of it."

[hippie_ninja]

"I am, too. I saw him the day after he moved out, but I haven't since then. I don't go to the Up very often." And V might well be isolating himself. "Good reason to drop in on him though, right?"

[konstant]

"I think he'd like that even if he thinks we'd be in danger around him."

And he will, but K remembers how V had calmed down just with someone else in the room. He's confident that will work out.

"Maybe I'll try to get him to come down to Marked."

[hippie_ninja]

He nods, perking up a bit. "Pick a day we're both working. We can hang out together when we both get off."

[konstant]

And maybe having to put the mark back on to come in will soothe something in him; maybe it won't.

"I will," he promises.

"I like having the job. I like being able to expect something familiar."

[hippie_ninja]

It unsettles Jesus, on the other hand. Every day here has a steady rhythm to it and it has sawed away at his already haggard nerves. Every day he has to hold a little tighter to himself to get from sunup to sundown, and every day it feels a little worse.

But even so he's earnest, honest, when he says, "I'm glad." K, at least, seems to be doing so much better than when they first met. "I worried about you."

[konstant]

He doesn't have the same reaction to hearing that someone is worried about him as Jesus had, but it's still strange to hear. He feels better, sometimes, than he did when he got here.

Sometimes he feels like he's still right there in orientation.

"It's... Easier when I'm around other people."

[hippie_ninja]

"I like having you around," so it works out well that way. "I think other people do, too."

If they get to know him a little, they should. They will.

[konstant]

The citizens of Duplicity make the most sense to him, honestly, avoiding being near him, not speaking to or looking at him.

But what Jesus says has some truth, too.

"Is it like that for you? Harder when all you have to do is think?"

[hippie_ninja]

"When I have too much time, I don't think." That's the problem. When he has nothing to work on, he can't focus. "Have you ever meditated?"

[konstant]

K shakes his head, twisting to look up at him curiously.

[hippie_ninja]

"I used to do it all the time. It pulls you back to center--lets you clear your head, calm your emotions." He loves it, has for years. "Only I can't do it here. I can't settle."

[konstant]

"How did you first discover that it helped you?" K asks, folding his legs under him, leaning his shoulders back into the bed.

[hippie_ninja]

He sits on the floor facing K. It feels too odd to sit on the bed with K down here.

"Oh, some counselor when I was a kid recommended it. It didn't work at first because I was impatient. But I kept coming back to it and after a while it helped. It helps with a lot of things--stress, fatigue, pain."

All things he faced daily, hourly, back home.

[konstant]

He tips his head, following Jesus's movements closely with just his eyes - for a couple reasons.

"If it didn't work, why did you keep coming back?"

[hippie_ninja]

"Nothing else helped, either," he lifts a shoulder. "And I was too young to get my hands on the things other people used to get away from their emotions. You know, no one in my house drank, so that wasn't a reliable escape. Luckily for me. But I could control my breathing when I was trying to fall asleep. The rest came with time."

[konstant]

He nods, hearing familiarities in what Jesus is saying, although mostly from other people's lives, other people's stories.

K has always drank, even though he has memories of a time when he didn't.

"Would it be... Strange to you, for me to talk about memories that aren't mine?"

[hippie_ninja]

He shakes his head, although yes, the concept is strange. Strange but intriguing.

"I'd like to hear what it's like. What they are. I'm probably going to have questions."

[konstant]

"I don't mind questions." He minds being yelled at for stealing memories, stealing humanity, even though he didn't have anything to do with it; even though they aren't real human memories.

Well.

"I just don't want to try to tell you about things I remember through the eyes of a child, of a teenager, if it's going to be upsetting."

[hippie_ninja]

"Even if they didn't happen, they still are part of you, though, right? They still effect you." So they're real in that sense, real in a way that some of Jesus's long faded memories aren't. K's memories were given to him for a purpose.

[konstant]

"Their express purpose is to influence me, yes," he allows, slowly, relieved.

"They're installed before activation to help stabilize us, to shape our personalities the way we've been commissioned."

[hippie_ninja]

He nods to show he understands the concept, at least. "If that was really reliable, though, they wouldn't have needed you."

Stable replicants don't need a blade runner.

[konstant]

"It's new as standard for the Nexus-9s," he tries to explain, opens his mouth to talk about how messy the Nexus-8s are, then stops when he realizes he's not counted as stable anymore.

The corner of his mouth twitches and he looks down, refocusing.

"There are glitches."

[hippie_ninja]

"Because they don't count on how you'll grow into a life they didn't program?" It's his assessment so far. K talked about replicants becoming dangerous if they feel too much, but he's seen K feel a fair amount in their short time here. He's not dangerous.