Who ; Lain Iwakura and T-800
What ; Lain is sliding her long hard cable into T-800's serial port
Where ; Lain's place, youth hostel in Kurzweil
When ; sometime when people aren't dying
Warning(s) ; too much cyberpunk
[ She isn't sure if she should be out at a time like this, with Maine still at large. But she reasons she can monitor him, and
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It came armed, liked it always did. But this time it had brought a knife, a standard armed forces-issued KA-BAR in the event proper cutting equipment could was not acquired. The organic sheath surrounding it's structure was tougher than it looked. Hopefully the human it was going to allow to access his network was not bothered by blood.
When it loomed in the entrance way, it ran over again just why it had agreed to this. A lapse in logic, definitely. But when it saw Lain; small and weak, it's read out glitched for a moment- so much so that it almost called her by a different name. ]
I got your message.
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She picks herself up, body swaying uncertainly as she dislodges some of the heavier cables. Recognition slides in a moment or so later. ]
You came.
[ She shakes the last wires off from around her ankles and approaches him, stopping short by a few feet. He's tall-- like that American that used to haunt outside her parents' house. ]
So... You're not a hologram?
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Yes, that is obvious.
[ Unaware of her trauma associated with people as large as it was, closed the gap by a foot and, lacking tact, drew the KA-BAR. ]
I am not a hologram, and you are going to need this.
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I don't-- What's it for?
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You will need to cut the skin to get to the port. If you are unable to, I can make the incision, but will require something reflective.
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I don't. I. Sorry, I can't--
[ (but it isn't real. It's a machine.) ]
...S-sit down over there.
[ She points numbly toward one of the unoccupied bunks. ]
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[ Following her gesture, knife in hand, it drops down on the bunk, it buckled under the machine's immense weight to capacity. ]
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[ She drifts closer to him, wandering around the back of the bunk, broken beneath him. It's just... not exactly terrifying, but unnerving, every part of this.
Well, there's nothing to be done, so. She kneels on the bed behind him, knees sinking into the depression his weight has made in the mattress. ]
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Make an 'I'-shaped incision along the base of the neck, using pliers to hold back the flesh.
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...
[ It's just a casing, it isn't flesh. Gaining strength from this, she kneels further up, lifting the knife and aiming it just above a raised bump at the base of his neck. ]
H-how big should it be?
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Blood.
No. It can't-- This is a machine. It's a machine, it doesn't bleed. The light in here is bad, she's probably imagining it...
Hand shaking, she drags the knife downward, the incision becoming rough and jagged the further she goes. ]
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It is a long, long time before she manages to more than stutter, murmuring. ]
It, um, it doesn't. I don't. I don't have the right...
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[ It asks this as it grabs two pairs of pliers to hold the flesh down. ]
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[ No... maybe she could...
Yes, just focus on the shape of the port for now. Not the blood, not the flesh, not the gleaming metal spine. She backs up until she half-tumbles from the bed, crawling over to the mess of cables that served as her place of sleep. Maybe she could cut a few pins out of a PS2 jack... ]
No. Just wait there.
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