[semi-open] computer programs + space lsd = ???

[smellslikejail]

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?

Comments

[theuserabides]

[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.]

[popcorngifs]

[ 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. ]

Some reunion.

[theuserabides]

[Flynn looks up from where he's been staring fixedly at a spot on the floor.

Alan, you're glowing. Whoa.]

It's not usually this eventful.

[popcorngifs]

[ And everyone is happy you didn't say that a loud, Flynn. ]

No fires, no broken bones or missing furniture. Thought I'd see you before I go around the house again.

Open to anyone.

[survivethesiren]

[Perhaps some other people were getting pleasant hallucinations.

Nice things. Like colors. Or tastes. Our sounds that were enjoyable.

But not Gem, oh no.

On top of having a sunburned face, Gem now had him blathering on in her ear. Sitting on things, and being a regular pester.

Not that it was any different from usual.

The Siren is sitting on a couch in the living area, rubbing her temple.]

Shut up. Please...shut up.

Is that any way to speak to your dear leader? Though we should do something about that awful color on your face. It's clashing with your hair!

And who decorated this place? It's so dreary...

[And so Castor-hallucination blathers on, as Gem tries in vain to ignore him.]

[popcorngifs]

[ Alan Bradley, guardian of legacies and drugged out programs. Walks around one side of the couch with slow, deliberate movements, as not to startle her. Gem clearly wasn't having a feel good high a lot of the others were subject to. ]

Thought I'd drop in, see how you were doing.

[survivethesiren]

[Gem's eyes focused on Alan for a moment, then back on Castor]

He just--Gem, he just sat on me. Are you truly going to allow that?

[A smile flickered on her face for just a moment. Yes. Yes she was going to allow that. Returning her attention back on Alan, she gave a lone shrug.]

Everyone seems to be...dealing with pleasant things. I seem to be having a bad User week.

[popcorngifs]

At least you look like you're handling yourself well enough, all things considered.

[ Alan specifically slips a looks in there. Appearances were almost made to be deceiving, and Gem struck him as someone who figured that out before most. ]

Open.

[uniquealgorithm]

[Quorra is stretched out on the floor, in the hallway, on her back. One leg is hooked up, her foot tapping against the wall to some beat only she can hear as she giggles endlessly. She's holding both of her hands up over her head and wiggling her fingers through the air slowly, her eyes wide and fascinated.]

I can hear the energy...

[popcorngifs]

[ Tonight's line up will be subject to a change in casting. Playing the role of Damage Control Dad in lieu of Flynn will be Alan Bradley. Quorra is his first stop on his walk through the house, in his trek to make sure no one dies. He bends down next to her, regarding her like a heavily sedated pet that just came out of the vet's office. ]

Wouldn't you rather get in tune with the energy in your room? More, uh, room for all that energy.

[uniquealgorithm]

[Quorra peers up at him, her head slowly tilting to the side and then even dragging her body along as if she's trying to get a better look at him. Eventually she points at him. Very firmly.]

Alan. You have energy in your...

[She pauses, frowning, because she doesn't know the word. Her hands start moving, and she runs her finger down from her neck to her stomach in demonstration.]

Neck. fabric. thing. Necfabring. Energy Necfabring.

[popcorngifs]

Yes, what is a "tie"?

[ He pulls at the end of said tie, confident he just won the daily double. ]

I'll cut you a deal- you can take the energy conduit, more commonly known as a tie, in exchange for the knowledge you'll retreat to the safety of your room where I can keep a better eye on you. Deal?

[open!]

[theshirtlessiso]

[Gibson is... unaffected by whatever's going on, actually--he knew being suspicious of User food was going to come in handy someday--but after his adventure babysitting Hawke? Yeah, he needs a little time to recuperate.

He's currently sprawled on one of the couches in the living room, sunglasses on and head tipped back against the back of the couch to stare up at the ceiling. You'd be forgiven for thinking he's tripping himself, to be honest.]

[survivethesiren]

[And there goes Gem, wandering by, her hands flinging up--looking much more agitated than she allows anyone to see in public]

Just shut up.

You aren't real, so you can just go away.

[theshirtlessiso]

[And Gibson's just gonna sliiiiide those sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to give Gem a Look.]

Okay, now that's a little strong. Pretty sure I'm real.

[survivethesiren]

[Gem shoots him a look]

I'm not talking to you.

[She points behind Gibson.]

I'm talking to him.

[Open]

[fight4theusers]

[Tron is now sitting on the floor of the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. He's staring at it very intently, as though it holds all the secrets of the User world within.]

It's so... beautiful...

[He dips his fingers in the water and draws them to his mouth, circuit lines on his armor flaring brighter.]

[Open]

[popcorngifs]

[ Alan had a plan, he also had a mini bag of popcorn that's been in the pocket of his jacket since his arrival. The plan was simple- he was going to put a pot of coffee on, nuke his bag of popcorn, then return to the task of rounding up any stray programs or Users still under the influence.

That plan went too hell in a hand basket the moment he stepped into the kitchen. ]

Oh, Tron.

[Open]

[fight4theusers]

[Tron looks up from his concentration, his face brightening at the sight of his User.] Alan-1! [Yes, he forgot not to call him that. Sorry Alan. He holds up the glass of water as though it's the most precious thing in the world.] Look, isn't it amazing?

[popcorngifs]

[ Circumstances being what they were, Alan just lets it go. ] It's something. [ It was also, unfortunately, the problems. ]

Tron, can you do me a favor? Can you let me borrow that, for a bit?