caveofsapphires | Today is the first day of the rest of your lives [ opening post ]

Today is the first day of the rest of your lives [ opening post ]

WHO: EVERYONE. NPCs will be around to actively engage if you so desire.
WHAT: Sleepers wake and begin to figure out just what, exactly, they are supposed to do with themselves. tl;dr: REACTION POST for new characters to get out and mingle.
WHERE: Everywhere. Mostly the living quarters, but really: anywhere you want.
WHEN: The first week, April 1st through April 7th.
WARNINGS: Travis Touchdown (Ryan LeCourt) has quite a mouth on him.
NOTES: This is a serious game, guys. WE’RE SUPER SRS HERE. ~~This may be a lie.~~

Shimmering blue blanketed the underground city as the light reflected off the sapphires in the ceiling. It cast its eerie glow, almost mimicking the effect of light on water without the sort of freeing peace one might feel with the soft ocean waves. Figuring out how deep down the city was located was near impossible when the air was obviously heated to something approaching comfortable, and nothing seemed to echo too far past the quiet hum of the city.

Workers made their way down the street, every one with a Sleeper in tow. Something that would have been unheard of only a few days ago, now more likely than one would think. They intended to start slow, but considering how many others were still in cryo, this was a laidback pace.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Probably" was such an odd way to phrase it. At some later point, he might have to test it--or just wait and see what happens to others who may or may not choose to show up. Malcolm couldn't help but be curious; as far as he knew, being part of this peacekeeping, law enforcing group might actually give him a slight edge on others. It was strange, how his dream was supposed to be false, yet he's put into a job like this. (Not that he'd ever believe it to be a dream.)

So he showed up, punctual like he always was on the job, trying to appear somewhat eager to see what he'd be doing. Though he suspected his suspicion and caution overrode that. Surely his new "bosses" would understandany reluctance he might have.

"Gavin Stark?"

At least the guy was punctual. It would make Thomas's part of the job much easier. He stood in the doorway to his office, the only one segregated so completely from the rest of the cubicles. Apparently the other Workers didn't appreciate the part of a representative's job where Thomas had to deal with Sleepers, too.

Turning and heading inside, Thomas made a gesture over his shoulder for Malcolm to follow. "This way, let's get you situated."

Inside was probably one of the more personalized areas of the Cave yet to be seen. Two nice, wooden desks with small lamps, nameplates (the bigger desk read Thomas Anselmo, while the smaller denoting Delilah Heidrich). Thomas's had some papers scattered about it, though more noticeably was a stuffed doll sitting on the corner, hair made of string and curiously wearing a bomber jacket. A long couch was pushed up against the wall space behind Delilah's desk. There was even a fake plant potted in one of the corners. All in all, it looked more like a small town sheriff's office than something out of the technological wonder that was the rest of the city.

As he sat down at his desk and motioned for Malcolm to take the seat on the other side, he introduced, "I'm Thomas Anselmo. I'm representative between us Workers and you Sleepers here, so you'll be dealing with me."

It took a moment for the name to register with Malcolm. Right. His "name". He made sure to take in as much as he could without being too obvious as he took a hesitant seat across the desk. Still missing a lot of big pieces to this picture. It was starting to get annoying.

"And what exactly am I doing here, Mr. Anselmo?" he asked coolly, hands resting themselves in his lap trying to avoid the urge to cross his arms and legs and close off his body language entirely. He might yet play along, after all.

Eyes tracking Malcolm's hesitant movements, Thomas pointedly made no comment on the vague awkward aura the man was practically radiating. He was a firm believer of bulldozing right past issues like that unless given reason to use the kid gloves.

"Well," he started, lips quirking into a smile that wasn't exactly reassuring. "You'll be a probationary officer to start, just until we all get a better feel for each other. You understand, right?"

"Of course. It would be unwise to throw a--" What was that term--he wasn't very fond of it... "--Sleeper right into the middle of all the action. And if I do a good enough job for long enough, I might get a pat on the head and perhaps even a promotion." It was difficult to cut back on the sarcasm. He'd had quite enough of quite a lot lately, thank you.

"I must assume I'm here due to some connection to my history. The one I can't remember. Unless you're going to correct me and say it's all randomized." Possible, but this was a bit hard to pass off as coincidence.

"Says here," Thomas said with a glance toward his desk and the relative mess of papers sitting there, "that you were a cop back in the City. This'll help you get back on your feet. Assuming you want your congratulatory pat on the head at the end of the day," he added with a pointed look.

"A cop." He'd been cleaning a gun in that video. A primitive gun. Old projectile style. Certainly not a phase pistol. But it had looked as though it came so naturally to him...

Not terribly far-fetched as far as this world was concerned, he supposed. But he did not dream up that entire war.

"Do you remember much about yourself, or are you here because you were told to come here and just slid right into it? I'd love to hear a little about yourself." Malcolm gave a small upward twitch of his mouth, something between a smirk and a smile. "To start to get a better feel for one another, as it were."

"Sharing time?" asked Anselmo, lacing his fingers together so that he could lean back and rest his head in his hands. "Sure, I remember a bunch of things. I don't have a sharing stick to pass around, but if it'll help you feel more comfortable about all this, why not."

"I've been doing a bit of reading as of late. I think I might actually be able to piece together or understand anything you might say. Places, at least. So tell me, then, perhaps just a few basic tidbits. Who you were in the city. Where you came from." Malcolm paused, raising his eyebrows. "I might even ask what you dreamt about, but I fear that might be a bit off-limits."

"You're right on account of the dreams," Thomas allowed. "I was into personal security," he continued with a small shrug. It was hard to make the motion with his hands behind his head, but he had a lot of practice being as nonchalant as possible. "Came from the City, just like you, only not quite just like you because—well, it should be obvious. We're not the same, but we're close enough."

"Not the same," Malcolm echoed uncertainly. Not the same because this Anselmo was released earlier, had some kind of importance or higher status? Not the same because their jobs were different? Their backgrounds. "No, no, I think if we were the same person, it'd be quite obvious." All right, perhaps snide remarks really weren't the best way to go.

He shifted forward in his seat, showing some actual interest. "I'm curious though, why we aren't to speak of these dreams. If they're simply just dreams--granted, rather coherent dreams over the span of over a century--then surely there isn't that much harm in talking about them. Isn't that what people tend to do, talk about dreams, at least if they're interesting?"

Snide remarks were the sort of remarks Thomas could appreciate, even if he couldn't always counter them the way he would like. He had a position of authority here, so he couldn't get too far out of line... most of the time.

"Not when they're the only thing you remember right now, Mr. Stark. We don't want anyone to get hurt and if people keep insisting their dreams are real, or denying their actual memories, then we're gonna have issues." Thomas tilted his head to the side, as a gesture of emphasis.

"Keep the dream chatter down so we don't reinforce the idea that they might be real. Allow our actual memories to resurface." It made sense. Not that Malcolm planned on doing anything of the sort. "How long, approximately, do you think that will take? How long was it for you? And who told you what to do while you blundered about in a confused fashion?"

"It varies for everybody," Thomas said, breaking one hand away to scratch at his cheek thoughtfully. He shrugged widely before shifting his hands to lace over his torso instead. It looked like he was about two steps away from putting his feet up on the edge of the desk, but for one: the doll was still sitting on the corner. Also, Malcolm was right there and that would be pretty unprofessional.

"The Caretaker helped us out, and now we're here to help you guys."

Vague, if possibly technically true, answers. He might have to get used to that. "Is the Caretaker around to speak to, by any chance?"

Thomas shook his head, and gave a smile that was in no way actually apologetic. "He isn't. Like I said, you'll be dealing with me. If you really want to talk to him, I'd suggest putting a bulletin out."

"So tell me, if you don't mind," started Malcolm, leaning back in his seat again and crossing his legs, "do you have any idea why you--and the rest--were released earlier than others? Why it is a few certain people who are meant to help us Sleepers?"

"Strong sense of teamwork?" guessed Anselmo. "We're good at management? Short end of the stick? We're basically just the skeleton crew here."

Was it perhaps true that some of these people were just as lost as the rest of them? That they woke up believing their dreams and were--what, brainwashed? Drugged? Being controlled in some way?

But they were also just as likely behind all of this. It was frustrating, the lack of progress being made. "I assume you must have files on all of us. To place people in appropriate sections of the workforce." Malcolm managed not to wince when he looked at all the paperwork. Did these people really still use up so much paper? Seemed a shame to leave it all sit out and not get it organized into proper spots. "Do they give more details than our occupations and names?"

Thomas followed his line of sight and shifted the few papers he actually had out. Not out of view, but moved them. Glancing back to Malcolm, he raised a brow and said nothing more on that.

"We do, and they do, but baby steps are the way to go. Trust me on that one."

"Baby steps as in being jerked out of some sort of long-term cryofreeze and told that everything we thought we know for the past more than a century is false and, oh, by the way, here's a brand new world you don't remember and a brand new name that isn't in the slightest familiar, have a nice day, is that the sort of baby stepping you mean?"

The outbreak only served to prompt a large grin from Thomas rather than anger or annoy him. "That's exactly what I mean. We're already taking the smallest steps we can. Any bigger, and your brain might explode from the shock.

"We know that one from experience, by the way. Got a Worker here, learned too much, too fast, went a little..." Thomas paused to simply circle his ear with his pointer finger, giving an accompanying whistle.

"I've seen madder things in my sleep than anything I could read in that file." Crossed arms now. Getting a touch unhappy with all of this.

But Anselmo was likely not going to budge on this topic. A few more questions, then. Less dramatic. "Do you have children?" He only asked because...well...that doll.

"That's not the issue here," Thomas said, looking as though he were trying to come up with some way to explain what he meant.

The thoughtfulness vanished as Malcolm continued on with the conversation and his expression shifted into something much harder and more closed off. All joviality he had was gone. "No. Why?"

A touchy subject. Something to further poke at with a stick later, when he was feeling lucky. Malcolm would likely go back at some point to clarify what the issue exactly was, but he let his genuine curiosity get the better of him, at least for now. "One doesn't see grown men with dolls very often. I thought perhaps you might have or had children."

Today is the first day of the rest of your lives [ opening post ]

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