[fic] LOST. Jacob, Esau ficlet - Lost summer Luau
LATE TO THE PARTY LIKE ALWAYS AMIRITE
Title: The Island of Dr. Jacob
Author: me
Rating: G
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Jacob, Samuel (Esau)
Summary: futurefic!AU. Game over, or continue? 1021 words.
Notes: gift fic for toestastegood @ the lostsquee Lost Summer Luau
Prompt: 'the future', 048. future @ 100_tales
He’s on his back, here, at the end of the world: a sky color the color of steel, a sea the color of smoke, rain running in his nostrils, tasting of ash. There’s even pain -- pain! -- he can’t remember the last time he’s hurt this much. The last time he had a mortal body.
Maybe this is the island’s punishment.
He closes his eyes, defeated, and draws one last breath:
“End simulation,” he whispers.
*
Samuel opened his eyes to find Jacob watching him.
“So you won. Again.”
“I seem to have a talent for this game.”
“How many hours has this session lasted?” Samuel winced as his muscles begin to wake up. He was still on his back, except this time in the snug embrace of his gaming cockpit rather than the side of a cliff. He felt stiff and sore, remnants of phantom pain and phantom exertion had settled in his body like rust. Phantom emotions: as Samuel slid a sidelong look at his fellow player, his ‘nemesis’, he felt a little twist of hate. It surprised him.
Interesting. This is no game, what we’ve created. Not just a game. An experience. A totally immersive other-world experience...
“Two days,” came Jacob’s voice. “Our bodies were supplied the most basic nutrients, but...” Jacob held up his wrist. Clear tubing snaked into the flesh. “It was a good thing you ended it when you did. I’m starving.”
“Of course I ended it,” the dark man groused. “I was finished. No more lives left. No continues. I couldn’t bend the damn rules anymore than I already had...” He suddenly stabbed a finger at his brother. “What was that horseshit about you touching other players? Your candidates? Bringing them to the island? I couldn’t believe the game’s matrix allowed you to do that. That was goddamn bullshit.” He hauled himself into a sitting position.
“You know the rules.” Jacob’s serene blue eyes danced. “Maybe I should say MY rules.”
“Then the program needs some serious re-writing,” Samuel said sourly. His gaze fell on the white dais in the centre of the room, between their helms (‘cockpits,’ Jacob insisted) and on what it held. A perfect virtual construct of the Island - their Island. Their creation. It spun quietly on the dais, light and semi-transparent.
The game board. The arena. Only an exoskeleton, though, here in the real world. As Jacob always said, the real arena was in the head. The world’s finest mindchip technology could only bring you so far: the imagination did the rest. They should be so proud, Samuel thought.
“I really thought I had you back then,” he said aloud. “When I killed you. Thought I’d broke your winning streak.”
“That was a clever loophole.” Jacob massaged the muscles in his legs, hissing as blood flowed back into them. “Using ‘Benjamin’ like that. Gotta say, I’m impressed. Your schemes grow grander every time we play.”
“Yeah.” Samuel made an effort to smooth down his wrinkled clothes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Jacob could feel it too, surely. Their muscles still crackled with the adrenaline of it. Their minds still heavy with emotion and freedom. All because of the Island: the history and characters that peopled it, sprung from their own heads. Feeling slightly delirious, he caught Jacob’s eye. They grinned.
“We did this,” his brother whispered softly. “You and I. We’ve created something spectacular between us. A virtual reality unlike any other. This’ll change the roleplayer gaming industry. Fuck that. It’ll change everything.”
“You did this, Jacob. Or should I say Dr. Jacob.” Samuel fingered the chip just below his ear. “This was your brain-child...literally.”
“As much yours as mine. I invented the concept. You and I - we made the island.”
“I still don’t understand,” Samuel insisted. “We only wrote a basic program. A few ground rules, you said, and let our minds do the rest. There was no island. No plane crash. No source of energy to be tapped. None of that was planned. How did this fucking happen? What is the island and how did it get there?”
“It’s just a place,” Jacob explained, in his calm way. “Somewhere we created for ourselves. A place our minds made between us. A game board. Isn’t that enough?”
“No. I want to find out...” He stopped, suddenly exhausted.
“Get some sleep.” Jacob clapped him on the shoulder, then stretched, the bones in his spine creaking. “Remember we’re still in beta phase. There’s so much work we could do...”
“I know.”
“We’ll have another session in a day or so. Give our brains a chance to unwind. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll beat your ass again.”
“I want a new rule,” Samuel growled ominously. “‘Dead Is Dead - and I mean it. No coming back as a ghost to give other characters hints. No influencing from beyond the grave. It’ll be game over for you, my friend.”
“That’ll never happen.” Jacob glanced up the glass dome above them. Night had fallen quickly. It was amazing how disengaged from time they were. “You see, I already did you a huge favor by giving your avatar the ability to transform into a huge monstrous smoke cloud whenever you wanted.”
“I think I detect a note of jealousy.” Samuel detached himself from his cockpit, standing on wobbly legs. “Never mind, maybe...I’ll play as ‘Jacob’, and you can be the ‘Man in Black.’”
“Just name your avatar and get it over with. Your ‘mystery’ doesn’t impress me.”
“My name sounds more original than yours. I didn’t name my character after myself.” Samuel sighed as they exited the room. So much work to be done, glitches to be perfected...
The doors closed with a soft hiss as the men left. Alone on its dais, the Island tilted and spun gently, flying through unseen planes, extruding only the barest fraction of itself into this reality. Detecting no players in their cockpits, the room’s computer began to shut itself down. The room’s light faded from gold to black, till all but the dais was soundless and dark. The Island hummed, spun.
And dreamed.
[end]
Title: The Island of Dr. Jacob
Author: me
Rating: G
Fandom: Lost
Characters: Jacob, Samuel (Esau)
Summary: futurefic!AU. Game over, or continue? 1021 words.
Notes: gift fic for toestastegood @ the lostsquee Lost Summer Luau
Prompt: 'the future', 048. future @ 100_tales
He’s on his back, here, at the end of the world: a sky color the color of steel, a sea the color of smoke, rain running in his nostrils, tasting of ash. There’s even pain -- pain! -- he can’t remember the last time he’s hurt this much. The last time he had a mortal body.
Maybe this is the island’s punishment.
He closes his eyes, defeated, and draws one last breath:
“End simulation,” he whispers.
*
Samuel opened his eyes to find Jacob watching him.
“So you won. Again.”
“I seem to have a talent for this game.”
“How many hours has this session lasted?” Samuel winced as his muscles begin to wake up. He was still on his back, except this time in the snug embrace of his gaming cockpit rather than the side of a cliff. He felt stiff and sore, remnants of phantom pain and phantom exertion had settled in his body like rust. Phantom emotions: as Samuel slid a sidelong look at his fellow player, his ‘nemesis’, he felt a little twist of hate. It surprised him.
Interesting. This is no game, what we’ve created. Not just a game. An experience. A totally immersive other-world experience...
“Two days,” came Jacob’s voice. “Our bodies were supplied the most basic nutrients, but...” Jacob held up his wrist. Clear tubing snaked into the flesh. “It was a good thing you ended it when you did. I’m starving.”
“Of course I ended it,” the dark man groused. “I was finished. No more lives left. No continues. I couldn’t bend the damn rules anymore than I already had...” He suddenly stabbed a finger at his brother. “What was that horseshit about you touching other players? Your candidates? Bringing them to the island? I couldn’t believe the game’s matrix allowed you to do that. That was goddamn bullshit.” He hauled himself into a sitting position.
“You know the rules.” Jacob’s serene blue eyes danced. “Maybe I should say MY rules.”
“Then the program needs some serious re-writing,” Samuel said sourly. His gaze fell on the white dais in the centre of the room, between their helms (‘cockpits,’ Jacob insisted) and on what it held. A perfect virtual construct of the Island - their Island. Their creation. It spun quietly on the dais, light and semi-transparent.
The game board. The arena. Only an exoskeleton, though, here in the real world. As Jacob always said, the real arena was in the head. The world’s finest mindchip technology could only bring you so far: the imagination did the rest. They should be so proud, Samuel thought.
“I really thought I had you back then,” he said aloud. “When I killed you. Thought I’d broke your winning streak.”
“That was a clever loophole.” Jacob massaged the muscles in his legs, hissing as blood flowed back into them. “Using ‘Benjamin’ like that. Gotta say, I’m impressed. Your schemes grow grander every time we play.”
“Yeah.” Samuel made an effort to smooth down his wrinkled clothes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Jacob could feel it too, surely. Their muscles still crackled with the adrenaline of it. Their minds still heavy with emotion and freedom. All because of the Island: the history and characters that peopled it, sprung from their own heads. Feeling slightly delirious, he caught Jacob’s eye. They grinned.
“We did this,” his brother whispered softly. “You and I. We’ve created something spectacular between us. A virtual reality unlike any other. This’ll change the roleplayer gaming industry. Fuck that. It’ll change everything.”
“You did this, Jacob. Or should I say Dr. Jacob.” Samuel fingered the chip just below his ear. “This was your brain-child...literally.”
“As much yours as mine. I invented the concept. You and I - we made the island.”
“I still don’t understand,” Samuel insisted. “We only wrote a basic program. A few ground rules, you said, and let our minds do the rest. There was no island. No plane crash. No source of energy to be tapped. None of that was planned. How did this fucking happen? What is the island and how did it get there?”
“It’s just a place,” Jacob explained, in his calm way. “Somewhere we created for ourselves. A place our minds made between us. A game board. Isn’t that enough?”
“No. I want to find out...” He stopped, suddenly exhausted.
“Get some sleep.” Jacob clapped him on the shoulder, then stretched, the bones in his spine creaking. “Remember we’re still in beta phase. There’s so much work we could do...”
“I know.”
“We’ll have another session in a day or so. Give our brains a chance to unwind. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll beat your ass again.”
“I want a new rule,” Samuel growled ominously. “‘Dead Is Dead - and I mean it. No coming back as a ghost to give other characters hints. No influencing from beyond the grave. It’ll be game over for you, my friend.”
“That’ll never happen.” Jacob glanced up the glass dome above them. Night had fallen quickly. It was amazing how disengaged from time they were. “You see, I already did you a huge favor by giving your avatar the ability to transform into a huge monstrous smoke cloud whenever you wanted.”
“I think I detect a note of jealousy.” Samuel detached himself from his cockpit, standing on wobbly legs. “Never mind, maybe...I’ll play as ‘Jacob’, and you can be the ‘Man in Black.’”
“Just name your avatar and get it over with. Your ‘mystery’ doesn’t impress me.”
“My name sounds more original than yours. I didn’t name my character after myself.” Samuel sighed as they exited the room. So much work to be done, glitches to be perfected...
The doors closed with a soft hiss as the men left. Alone on its dais, the Island tilted and spun gently, flying through unseen planes, extruding only the barest fraction of itself into this reality. Detecting no players in their cockpits, the room’s computer began to shut itself down. The room’s light faded from gold to black, till all but the dais was soundless and dark. The Island hummed, spun.
And dreamed.
[end]