The past lives on in your front room

[homomachinis]

WHO: osreborn and homomachinis
WHERE: City Hall
WHEN: Monday Afternoon
WARNINGS: that hundred boy sure has a mouth on him
SUMMARY: Like the Mayor can resist a meeting with one of the rich and powerful in the city
FORMAT: para to start, whatevs after that

Comments

[osreborn]

Norman swept into City Hall with his typical air of self-importance, although with more of one today. There was a sick sort of pleasure he took in walking the steps, roughly a year after the successful assassination of several prestigious City officials. Never mind that it had gotten him arrested, or that he was reformed. It was a nice thing to remember.

"Mayor Hundred," he greeted. "So nice of you to see me."

[homomachinis]

"Mr. Osborn," he stood, but he didn't move from behind the desk. His mind kept doing that thing where he tried to correlate what was really in front of him with what he'd spent forty years knowing. It always got easier, after he had something akin to work to think about. "It's really a pleasure. It's nice to have some of the City's more prominent imports taking an interest in the much more boring civic matters," rueful laugh, and an outstretched hand. Practiced.

"Please, feel free to sit down."

[osreborn]

Smiling, Norman sat, folding his hands in his lap gracefully.

"Of course. There's nothing boring about civic matters, Mr. Hundred. As I don't need to tell you." He smirked, folding one leg over the other. "Quite the opposite, really. I'm incredibly curious about what you've been busy with."

[homomachinis]

"One of the rare few," he said as he sat back down, hand coming up to keep his tie pressed to his stomach. He didn't relax, but leaned forward instead, hands clasping neatly over the assorted papers across his desk. Mostly dotted with notes, or something he hadn't quite signed yet.

"Other than the impressive stack of civic duties for the dreaded holiday season, there've been a few things in the works. Anything you're particularly interested in?"

[osreborn]

"What's on the plate for the new year? I'm curious about what sort of policy you're hiding behind the curtain." Norman's eyes scanned over Mitch's desk casually, before flicking back upward. He was optimistic, being here. Once you got in once you could always get back in, quite the literal foot in the door.

"Assuming you can share."

[homomachinis]

"This and that," he hedged, one of those wholly politician smiles on his face. "Some, as you already know, can't be shared. Mostly because half-formed policy just shouldn't be shot out until it's got some sort of backing, but there are a few things I've got lined up for the winter months and the next year that might interest a businessman like yourself."

Money talked, and Norman Osborn's money spoke very loudly, so sharing a few things with him? Might go a long way. "We're actually thinking about a paperless initiative for the new year, for starters. With your business perspective, what's your honest opinion about something like that?"

[osreborn]

Norman sat back, his fingers lightly drumming on his knee. Money did talk, he knew, and there was hardly anyone better to talk to than the mayor. A worthy investment, one might say, even though Norman would never have actually voted for him.

"Do you want my business perspective or my honest opinion?" Norman smirked, shaking his head once. "In seriousness, obviously depletion of resources is something we should all consider. It's especially relevant when we consider the future, but you're losing the business associations you have with the paper companies and all the people who work in them. As well as the people who can't afford computers. Can we afford to exclude such a significant demographic?"

[homomachinis]

"A fair point," his own fingers tapped against the paper again, his lips pursing. "I'm not talking about asking our papers to shut down their print options, or move to wholly recycled paper, you understand." He'd already done that once, and in his later years, he'd seen how many enemies it could make, sadly. Shit, it would kill what little print had left, and he wasn't quite ready for them to throw in the towel. He liked having a morning paper, after all.

"More like tax breaks for the corporations that start moving digital. I don't want to exclude people from being able to use paper, but I'd think we could cut down on paper waste, maybe use it less." He waved a hand dismissively. "It's something to consider, of course. I don't want our papers to lose their ability to print, and I certainly don't want anyone to lose their jobs right now."

[osreborn]

"Maybe you should call it a 'Less Paper' initiative, in that case. Subtleties, mind. Start with your own office and asses how successful it is." Norman raised his eyebrow slowly, moving one hand to stroke his temple.

"But with the frequency of blackouts around here, you may need to develop some kind of reliable method of backing up important information hardcopy, if the goal is transition from paper. More reliable and less fickle, ideally, than hard drives."

[homomachinis]

"No doubt," his hand moved away from the paper, and he crossed a leg, leaning back now. His and rested on his ankle. "Certainly, actually. The way hard drives work, they're too dependent, they're easily...distraught, I suppose is the best way to put it, when their master is incommunicado." He stopped there, though. Most people wouldn't be interested in the unique facets of the way computers interacted, let alone the odd relationships machines had with each other.

"Speaking of blackouts, actually," he paused, adjusting in his seat slightly. "I'm interested in finding a way to establish a good backup grid. It's been what, the past three years that we've had one around the same time? Fucking clockwork, almost." He made sure his voice was level, concerned. No need to let onto the fact that he'd caused the most recent one.

[osreborn]

"Well, you know, I'm something of an engineer, Mr. Hundred. I'm sure if given some time I could invent just the system you're looking for."

Norman tented his fingers together in his lap. "Something self-sustaining, of course. Unfortunately in this sort of climate solar power is a dreadfully over-optimistic daydream."

[homomachinis]

A laugh. "As is wind, I'm afraid. I'm sure with the right team, and the right minds, something could be worked out, if you're willing to do a service to the city. I'd be very interested to see what you'd come up with."

It was sincere, in fact. Mitch had one problem, and it was his pride, and the pride brought on by knowing he could literally speak with every machine. Sometimes, however, he forgot that machines lied.

[osreborn]

"Shall we shake on it?" Smiling, Norman extended a hand. "I'm sure I could have an idea for you in a month's time. We can't let our foundations become unstable simply because the environment is."

[homomachinis]

He took it, shaking with the confident grip he didn't quite feel. "Indeed, I completely agree. There shouldn't be any reason that we can't give our citizens some sort of faith that we can combat the weird around here, hm?"

[osreborn]

"No, there shouldn't." Norman sat back again, eyes once more scanning the office casually before turning back toward Mitch. His face said business, but his eyes remained guarded and ambiguous.

"Tell me; is there any other way I could be of help to your causes?"

[homomachinis]

Mitch schooled his expression, and turned his chair slightly, an idle motion, while he thought. His brain was screaming supervillain names, but he also knew that villains could always reform. Hell, look at his newly minted Deputy fucking Mayor.

"I'm sure there are plenty of ways we can help each other, of course. The power situation alone would be a great help to the city, but I'm sure there are plenty of things that could further help our citizens. You've done us a great service alone by funding the Psychiatric Hospital." He just couldn't say the abbreviation. Not to his face, it was almost too much.