who ; the residents of Tronhaus what ; TRIPPIN' BALLS also trip-sitting, depending on who you are where ; Tronhaus when ; Saturday the 14th warning(s) ; ... computer programs tripping for the very first time? ( after the jump~ )
[Flynn, having already been subjected to every last torment his subconscious could put him through, is having an uneventful trip, as such things go. He's much more concerned about the people who didn't have highly experimental college experiences followed by a trial by fire and eventual enlightenment.
Ideally, the trip-sitter shouldn't be tripping himself, but it's nothing he can't handle, and, except for the occasional distracted look when his altered perceptions really pull out the stops, he's largely his normal self.]
[ Then consider one Alan Bradley, interim trip-sitter. He came in with a bottle of water and because he enjoyed preparedness, a spare, for what good it would do now. He didn't so much as offer to check in on Flynn, as he did inform him that's what he was going to, regardless. Alan saw no reason to offer Flynn an ultimatum when he had already made up his mind for the both of them. ]
[Alan's actually too bright to look at comfortably, so Flynn looks at the wall instead, where rivers of texture are running upward from floor to ceiling.]
[Flynn looks up at him from his chair. Hey, Gibson. Did you know your tattoos are moving? Flynn's eyes catch on Gibson's chest for a moment before he tears them away from the enthralling sinusoidal motion.]
[No, Gibson had no idea that his tattoos were moving. Please don't actually mention that to him, Flynn, because he's still pretty sure you're unaffected.]
Oh. Great.
So what do we do until then, just wait and make sure no one gets themselves killed?
[Oh, Gibson. Flynn is tripping balls. It's just that he's got hundreds of years of Zen and the 70s under his belt.]
More or less. Not much you can do beyond keeping people from jumping off a building because they think they've grown wings.
[He himself is reasonably convinced he's no longer in phase with reality and thus capable of walking through walls. Intellectually, he's aware this is not the case, but the cognitive dissonance is irritating.]
[He dismisses the window with a languid wave, eyes following the trails his hand leaves in the air as he does so.]
It doesn't look like anyone here's having a bad trip right now, so they're not much threat. But if someone's trip goes bad, they'll need a person to sit with them until it stops.
Ideally, the trip-sitter shouldn't be tripping himself, but it's nothing he can't handle, and, except for the occasional distracted look when his altered perceptions really pull out the stops, he's largely his normal self.]
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Some reunion.
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Alan, you're glowing. Whoa.]
It's not usually this eventful.
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No fires, no broken bones or missing furniture. Thought I'd see you before I go around the house again.
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I'm all right. Tripping hard, but nothing bad.
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[ Obliviously to what a torture his radiance was to Flynn, he meets him at eye level. ]
In the event you do need something, you'll actually call me this time, right?
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[Flynn closes his eyes against the light radiating off Alan.
...Ouch. Harsh, but fair.]
Learned my lesson, man.
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[ Alan laid a hand on Flynn's leg, just between the knee and thigh, gave it a small squeeze before getting up to leave. ]
I'll keep you updated, buddy.
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... look, he made sure a User wizard lady didn't kill herself. That's his good deed for the day, all right?]
Hey, Flynn. When is everyone going to stop being insane?
[beat]
Well. More insane than usual, anyway.
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Sometime tomorrow, probably.
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Oh. Great.
So what do we do until then, just wait and make sure no one gets themselves killed?
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More or less. Not much you can do beyond keeping people from jumping off a building because they think they've grown wings.
[He himself is reasonably convinced he's no longer in phase with reality and thus capable of walking through walls. Intellectually, he's aware this is not the case, but the cognitive dissonance is irritating.]
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... that forcefield's still up around the terrace, right?
[Don't ask why Gibson knows that's there.]
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Yeah. I made sure to beef up the security on the overrides before the party.
[Still, he brings up an interface window and checks again, more slowly than he normally would through his distorted perceptions.]
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And, y'know, make sure they don't decide to do anything else completely insane.
[Gibson is... probably not the ideal trip-sitter, let's put it that way.]
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[He dismisses the window with a languid wave, eyes following the trails his hand leaves in the air as he does so.]
It doesn't look like anyone here's having a bad trip right now, so they're not much threat. But if someone's trip goes bad, they'll need a person to sit with them until it stops.
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