Politics
OOC: This prompt takes place at the very end of this scene and continues into a "what-I-think-could-have-happened-next" type thing. The video referred to is this one, featured in the episode Not in Portland. This isn't binding to any Ben muses.
With face calm and stoic, Jack looked intently ahead at the man sitting before him. He knew that this was more than a friendly chess match between two competitive people. Whenever Benjamin Linus was involved, one's senses always had to be on full alert. Jack could feel a dull thrumming in his ears as his hand reached up to his head, fingertips barely grazing the skin of his forehead.
"I promise you, I won't do anything to prevent you from getting home, but if you do leave this place, the day may come when you want to return." The words issued from Ben's mouth easily flowed together as if he were discussing the weather. The way he spoke was always smooth, yet it was an oily smoothness with varying degrees of distasteful undertones.
"Never," Jack replied immediately and simply, the fingers moving away from his forehead as his thumb pressed firmly and neatly into his temple. He reminded himself that he didn't have to hide behind flowing words and doublespeak. He wasn't like Ben, he was different, more humane.
Ben tilted his head toward Jack, raising his eyebrows in a manner which seemed to cause his eyes to protrude. "I've learned never to say never... and if that day comes, I hope you remember this conversation." There was a silence. Both men studied the board, each understanding the stakes involved in their own real world battle of wits. Each looked up, feigning an air of casualness while the situation was anything but. After locking eyes, Jack watched as Ben's lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, after which he moved his rook horizontally across the board. The hint of amusement lingered in his voice as he continued, "It was a nice try though."
It was all Jack could do to not hurl the board at the other man to wipe that smug grin off his face. He wanted so desperately to scream, to have a weapon in his hand, anything which would give himself leverage and ensure himself the safety of returning home. He didn't believe for a second that Ben could be so aloof about his leaving. The Island was always a convenient excuse when Ben neglected reason. As it stood, losing his temper would only give Ben what he wanted, so Jack continued to play his game, returning the smile with an almost barely audible laugh.
This seemed to frustrate Ben and his lips thinned into a straight line. "Let me show you something Jack," without giving Jack any time to reply, Ben pushed his arms against the wheels of his wheelchair and rolled himself back from the table. Jack stood up, taking the hint and walked around the table and behind the chair. The leader of the Others then glanced at Jack with a look that was almost pitiable, expecting assistance, but not deigning to ask for it. "Richard always pushes me you know."
"I'm not Richard," Jack replied coldly. There was no anger in his voice, but the manner in which he spoke made it abundantly clear that he was going to do Ben no favors.
A flash of anger passed across Ben's face before his voice returned with that same measured tone. "Very well." He pushed himself away from the richly furnished den into what looked like a living room area. Jack remained a few paces behind, walking slowly and watching Ben warily. He hated the idea of being inside Ben's home, so vulnerable and exposed. The entire situation felt like a metaphorical deal with the devil, which didn't sit well with the doctor. Rather than following the Bible, his beliefs lay more closely in the No Exit "hell is other people" philosophy, which couldn't have been more apparent than at this very moment. If hell was other people, then Benjamin Linus surely was their leader.
"Do you like movies, Jack?" The voice had turned from casual to borderline condescending.
"Why?" Jack wasn't about to answer Ben's question in the way that the other man wanted.
Ben bustled in front of his television set, pushing an unlabeled tape into his VCR. "I realize that you were never an art student, but I think this is something that you especially will appreciate. He then gave a hollow laugh which lingered between mirth and menace. That was the thing about Ben, he always seemed to toe the line of emotion, not fully placing himself into one single definable category. "You'll have to forgive the somewhat modest size of the screen, but I can assure you, the sound system more than makes up for it." He wheeled himself back away from the television and toward a wall, reaching up to flick a switch that dimmed the lights. "Have a seat, Jack."
"I prefer to stand, thank you."
"Suit yourself."
Then seemingly without warning the television set sprang to life. Jack didn't have time to think about if he remembered whether or not Ben was holding a remote control. Sound blasted through the speakers around him and images flashing in quick succession danced before his eyes. Squares floated in from every angle of the screen, aligning themselves into a circle against a black canvas amidst harsh drum beats. The images inside the squares changed in time with the drum, and Jack felt his heart struggling to change the nature of its pulse, wanting to step in time with the vibrations surrounding him. A single image of a flower suddenly greatly changed the depiction of what was seen on the screen, and drum beats were replaced by a jarring scratching sound. Jack felt his breathing stop for a moment, as if his body was suddenly unsure of what to do.
Plant a good seed and you will joyfully gather fruit.
The drums quickly returned and Jack's body unconsciously welcomed it, wanting to be engulfed and eased into its rhythm.
Squares. Flashing squares of various shapes. Pinks and blues.
A scream.
Everything changes.
Coins. One coin. CDs. Stove. Keyboard. Technology replaced by nature looming overhead.
Another scream. The drums beat on, echoing more and more loudly through the speakers as Jack subconsciously felt himself leaning forward. He told himself that it was only curiosity. It was always good to know the enemy. The drums were then accompanied by a sound he couldn't place. A typewriter maybe? It didn't matter. The only thing his mind was telling him at this point was a single word: more.
Help each other.
A professor walked among his students. This wasn't so bad, right?
More.
On the way.
Drums beating, beating, an indiscernible male voice, warped and dull, but Jack had to hear what the man was saying, he leaned a little further forward, eyes widening. More.
Circles, the circles again, spinning, spinning. A woman's voice. "Just tell me what it is already!" Jack's consciousness screamed in the back of his mind. More spinning. A single blue light pulsed around the screen, small flickers of the same blue radiating off of it. He was dizzy. The muscles in Jack's neck loosened as his head rolled slightly, mimicking the light on the screen following it.
Drums.
Lights.
More.
A sailboat, fireworks. Jack felt his heart rate speed up once more, his body begging to not have to fight, to just be. Science, birds, the moon. The same woman, speaking. He knew that she had a message just for him, if he could only listen, only understand...
We are the causes of our own suffering.
Yes, yes, that was true! He was too hard on himself, always. There was a different rhythm now, and Jack's jaw grew more and more slack. Masks, faces, statues. Dolls. Eyes. Squares! Screams! Flashes! Everywhere, everwhere! Harder drums, pounding, pounding! Yes! More!
Think about.
Your life.
"My life..." Jack hadn't realized he had whispered out loud.
Circles, more circles. More, more. Screams. A street, matched by inhuman screeches mimicking a busy highway.
The extinction of desire is Nirvana.
What? The mention of religion was enough to make Jack blink, His mouth snapped shut. He shut his eyes hard and swallowed, trying to force away the all encompassing pulse. "What the hell is this?!" He yelled against the sound.
Ben smiled at him, the synthetic glow of the television distorting his features. During the long pause before Ben chose to answer, the internal desire of Jack's body to follow the same rhythm grew stronger. "Answer me now!" Jack screamed, fighting against beat. He wasn't going to be anybody's pawn, not Ben's, and certainly not a damn videos.
"Why Jack, don't you see? This is the way things work around here. This is the way they have always worked. You and I both know that." He never raised his voice, as if he wanted to be lost in the erratic nature of bastardized sound.
"Know what? I want no part of this, turn it off!" He had to keep his voice raised. It kept his senses alert and lowered his pulse. Jack had to feel normal, feel civilized in this place that was full of real and imagined monsters.
"I would have thought you of all people would appreciate a little well manufactured propaganda, or do the words "live together, die alone" mean nothing to you anymore?"
If Ben wouldn't turn it off, Jack would. He stalked toward the television, feeling as if he were fighting off the torrent of screams all around him.
God loves you as he loved Jacob.
Jack slammed his hand hard on the power button. The screen went black and the voices, the drums were all silenced. His mind suddenly felt as if it were jarred from sleep and his chest rose and fell while breathing heavily, forcing his body to return to its own normalcy.
"Aw," Ben canted his head to the side. "You shut it off at my favorite part."
Again the hand slammed on the VCR, this time on the eject button. When the tape slipped out of its slot, Jack hurled it none too gently at Ben's chest. "Then watch it on your own time, I'm leaving."
The video came sailing through the air right back at him, landing neatly at Jack's feet. "You may want to keep that," came Ben's voice as smooth as ever, "I only think that you can learn something from it."
Jack's booted heel came down on the tape, hitting it squarely in the middle, making a crunching sound and sending several plastic splinters onto the floor. "Oh yeah? Like what?" His voice was almost a challenge.
Ben lifted a hand, waving it vaguely in a bored manner. "Politics, Jack. Merely politics, though I suppose you've proven your disinterest." He paused, flicking the light back on. "I do hope that when you return to your home in Los Angeles you will take part as a citizen of democracy and vote. After all, I've never taken you to be a savage."
With face calm and stoic, Jack looked intently ahead at the man sitting before him. He knew that this was more than a friendly chess match between two competitive people. Whenever Benjamin Linus was involved, one's senses always had to be on full alert. Jack could feel a dull thrumming in his ears as his hand reached up to his head, fingertips barely grazing the skin of his forehead.
"I promise you, I won't do anything to prevent you from getting home, but if you do leave this place, the day may come when you want to return." The words issued from Ben's mouth easily flowed together as if he were discussing the weather. The way he spoke was always smooth, yet it was an oily smoothness with varying degrees of distasteful undertones.
"Never," Jack replied immediately and simply, the fingers moving away from his forehead as his thumb pressed firmly and neatly into his temple. He reminded himself that he didn't have to hide behind flowing words and doublespeak. He wasn't like Ben, he was different, more humane.
Ben tilted his head toward Jack, raising his eyebrows in a manner which seemed to cause his eyes to protrude. "I've learned never to say never... and if that day comes, I hope you remember this conversation." There was a silence. Both men studied the board, each understanding the stakes involved in their own real world battle of wits. Each looked up, feigning an air of casualness while the situation was anything but. After locking eyes, Jack watched as Ben's lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, after which he moved his rook horizontally across the board. The hint of amusement lingered in his voice as he continued, "It was a nice try though."
It was all Jack could do to not hurl the board at the other man to wipe that smug grin off his face. He wanted so desperately to scream, to have a weapon in his hand, anything which would give himself leverage and ensure himself the safety of returning home. He didn't believe for a second that Ben could be so aloof about his leaving. The Island was always a convenient excuse when Ben neglected reason. As it stood, losing his temper would only give Ben what he wanted, so Jack continued to play his game, returning the smile with an almost barely audible laugh.
This seemed to frustrate Ben and his lips thinned into a straight line. "Let me show you something Jack," without giving Jack any time to reply, Ben pushed his arms against the wheels of his wheelchair and rolled himself back from the table. Jack stood up, taking the hint and walked around the table and behind the chair. The leader of the Others then glanced at Jack with a look that was almost pitiable, expecting assistance, but not deigning to ask for it. "Richard always pushes me you know."
"I'm not Richard," Jack replied coldly. There was no anger in his voice, but the manner in which he spoke made it abundantly clear that he was going to do Ben no favors.
A flash of anger passed across Ben's face before his voice returned with that same measured tone. "Very well." He pushed himself away from the richly furnished den into what looked like a living room area. Jack remained a few paces behind, walking slowly and watching Ben warily. He hated the idea of being inside Ben's home, so vulnerable and exposed. The entire situation felt like a metaphorical deal with the devil, which didn't sit well with the doctor. Rather than following the Bible, his beliefs lay more closely in the No Exit "hell is other people" philosophy, which couldn't have been more apparent than at this very moment. If hell was other people, then Benjamin Linus surely was their leader.
"Do you like movies, Jack?" The voice had turned from casual to borderline condescending.
"Why?" Jack wasn't about to answer Ben's question in the way that the other man wanted.
Ben bustled in front of his television set, pushing an unlabeled tape into his VCR. "I realize that you were never an art student, but I think this is something that you especially will appreciate. He then gave a hollow laugh which lingered between mirth and menace. That was the thing about Ben, he always seemed to toe the line of emotion, not fully placing himself into one single definable category. "You'll have to forgive the somewhat modest size of the screen, but I can assure you, the sound system more than makes up for it." He wheeled himself back away from the television and toward a wall, reaching up to flick a switch that dimmed the lights. "Have a seat, Jack."
"I prefer to stand, thank you."
"Suit yourself."
Then seemingly without warning the television set sprang to life. Jack didn't have time to think about if he remembered whether or not Ben was holding a remote control. Sound blasted through the speakers around him and images flashing in quick succession danced before his eyes. Squares floated in from every angle of the screen, aligning themselves into a circle against a black canvas amidst harsh drum beats. The images inside the squares changed in time with the drum, and Jack felt his heart struggling to change the nature of its pulse, wanting to step in time with the vibrations surrounding him. A single image of a flower suddenly greatly changed the depiction of what was seen on the screen, and drum beats were replaced by a jarring scratching sound. Jack felt his breathing stop for a moment, as if his body was suddenly unsure of what to do.
Plant a good seed and you will joyfully gather fruit.
The drums quickly returned and Jack's body unconsciously welcomed it, wanting to be engulfed and eased into its rhythm.
Squares. Flashing squares of various shapes. Pinks and blues.
A scream.
Everything changes.
Coins. One coin. CDs. Stove. Keyboard. Technology replaced by nature looming overhead.
Another scream. The drums beat on, echoing more and more loudly through the speakers as Jack subconsciously felt himself leaning forward. He told himself that it was only curiosity. It was always good to know the enemy. The drums were then accompanied by a sound he couldn't place. A typewriter maybe? It didn't matter. The only thing his mind was telling him at this point was a single word: more.
Help each other.
A professor walked among his students. This wasn't so bad, right?
More.
On the way.
Drums beating, beating, an indiscernible male voice, warped and dull, but Jack had to hear what the man was saying, he leaned a little further forward, eyes widening. More.
Circles, the circles again, spinning, spinning. A woman's voice. "Just tell me what it is already!" Jack's consciousness screamed in the back of his mind. More spinning. A single blue light pulsed around the screen, small flickers of the same blue radiating off of it. He was dizzy. The muscles in Jack's neck loosened as his head rolled slightly, mimicking the light on the screen following it.
Drums.
Lights.
More.
A sailboat, fireworks. Jack felt his heart rate speed up once more, his body begging to not have to fight, to just be. Science, birds, the moon. The same woman, speaking. He knew that she had a message just for him, if he could only listen, only understand...
We are the causes of our own suffering.
Yes, yes, that was true! He was too hard on himself, always. There was a different rhythm now, and Jack's jaw grew more and more slack. Masks, faces, statues. Dolls. Eyes. Squares! Screams! Flashes! Everywhere, everwhere! Harder drums, pounding, pounding! Yes! More!
Think about.
Your life.
"My life..." Jack hadn't realized he had whispered out loud.
Circles, more circles. More, more. Screams. A street, matched by inhuman screeches mimicking a busy highway.
The extinction of desire is Nirvana.
What? The mention of religion was enough to make Jack blink, His mouth snapped shut. He shut his eyes hard and swallowed, trying to force away the all encompassing pulse. "What the hell is this?!" He yelled against the sound.
Ben smiled at him, the synthetic glow of the television distorting his features. During the long pause before Ben chose to answer, the internal desire of Jack's body to follow the same rhythm grew stronger. "Answer me now!" Jack screamed, fighting against beat. He wasn't going to be anybody's pawn, not Ben's, and certainly not a damn videos.
"Why Jack, don't you see? This is the way things work around here. This is the way they have always worked. You and I both know that." He never raised his voice, as if he wanted to be lost in the erratic nature of bastardized sound.
"Know what? I want no part of this, turn it off!" He had to keep his voice raised. It kept his senses alert and lowered his pulse. Jack had to feel normal, feel civilized in this place that was full of real and imagined monsters.
"I would have thought you of all people would appreciate a little well manufactured propaganda, or do the words "live together, die alone" mean nothing to you anymore?"
If Ben wouldn't turn it off, Jack would. He stalked toward the television, feeling as if he were fighting off the torrent of screams all around him.
God loves you as he loved Jacob.
Jack slammed his hand hard on the power button. The screen went black and the voices, the drums were all silenced. His mind suddenly felt as if it were jarred from sleep and his chest rose and fell while breathing heavily, forcing his body to return to its own normalcy.
"Aw," Ben canted his head to the side. "You shut it off at my favorite part."
Again the hand slammed on the VCR, this time on the eject button. When the tape slipped out of its slot, Jack hurled it none too gently at Ben's chest. "Then watch it on your own time, I'm leaving."
The video came sailing through the air right back at him, landing neatly at Jack's feet. "You may want to keep that," came Ben's voice as smooth as ever, "I only think that you can learn something from it."
Jack's booted heel came down on the tape, hitting it squarely in the middle, making a crunching sound and sending several plastic splinters onto the floor. "Oh yeah? Like what?" His voice was almost a challenge.
Ben lifted a hand, waving it vaguely in a bored manner. "Politics, Jack. Merely politics, though I suppose you've proven your disinterest." He paused, flicking the light back on. "I do hope that when you return to your home in Los Angeles you will take part as a citizen of democracy and vote. After all, I've never taken you to be a savage."