to boldly go...

[bravejemma]

Comments

[bravejemma]

[Really now?]

Because I am not a computer, I am a human being who decides what to do with the results once I have them.

And I'm speaking to someone who isn't here, but--

[He -- it -- is so close it should be speaking right in her ear.]

Who are you, exactly?

[projecthydra]

Of course I'm here. Same as you. What, you want to keep playing with avatars?

[When she blinks next, there'll be a man settled beside her, the sort of person who looks like he might be better suited for rugby than running complicated mathematics. He's settled in a blue patient's gown, for effect. It matches the theme.]

I'm a wireless integer logistical locutory. But that's a mouthful, so just Will is fine.

What about you? You seem a little tentative about your own function here.

[bravejemma]

[This upjumped bit of circuitry had a lot of nerve, telling her that she didn't know what she was doing. She regrets the thought as soon as she has it, after all, there were people who would say the same about Fitz. But still, the utter impertinence!]

I am very much sure of what I should be doing. I'm supposed to initiate the diagnostics within the holosuite until the problem is found, and then Fitz and I will find a solution.

[So there.]

[projecthydra]

Ah. So you're a JEMMA. That figures.

[The upjumped bit of circuitry might be sassing her.]

Well then go right ahead, Miss Judicious Encryption Motherboard Macro Analog. Continue your testing process. If you're running a Fitz-level program, you've definitely got a bypass through the firewalls.

[bravejemma]

[A JEMMA? Somehow she can hear all the all caps, even before he spells out the acronym.]

My name is Jemma. I'm a person.

[Does it know what a person is?]

I'm not a computer.

[projecthydra]

[He snorts at that.]

Is this your way of checking for a virus? Users don't just hang around when the suite is powered down.

[bravejemma]

How do I know you're not the virus?

[projecthydra]

[He laughs at that, revealing rows of perfect white teeth.]

I guess you don't. You might just have to trust me on that one.

[bravejemma]

[You know who else has perfect teeth? Sharks.]

Okay, this is...clearly a rather enormous malfunction that is going to require more than a simple scan.

How do I get out of here?

[projecthydra]

What do you mean, "out"? Of the scenario, you mean? Here, I'll show you.

[His physical form doesn't move, but Jemma will be aware of something else outside of the traditional realm of her awareness. There's something abstract, a world of ones and zeroes. Something is toggled, and then the medbay dissolves back into the blackness from before.]

If you want any of the sequences to run, you'll have to wait for someone to power the system back on.

[bravejemma]

You're not making sense. The system is off?

[How could that be? The system was designed to be on when the presence of a humans.]

[projecthydra]

Yeah, that's why I couldn't fill your setting with AI. Why are you acting like that's weird?

[bravejemma]

Why are you acting like that's normal?!

[projecthydra]

Because it's a standard power saving feature to turn off the majority of functionality when there isn't a user present.

Look, lady. I don't know what kind of scan you think you're running, but it sounds a whole lot like you don't know what you're talking about.

[bravejemma]

[Of course, the computer goes to sleep when no one is using it. But this isn't the same. She takes in a deep breath through her nose, and lets it out slowly.]

I'm not running any scan. I was meant to be doing so, but clearly this has gone somewhat haywire, and I've somehow... been absorbed into the program.

[That sounds even dumber coming out of her mouth than it did in her head.]

[projecthydra]

[Yeah, it's pretty dumb. He bursts into laughter.]

That's so not how this works. Hey, do you have some bad code in you? I mean, it'd be weird to run a diagnostic on a JEMMA, but there are enough checks and balances that I could probably at least identify and quarantine.

[bravejemma]

[She blushes -- she thinks she's blushing, anyway -- at his laughter.]

I'm a person, not a program. There's been a malfunction and I need to leave.

[projecthydra]

Yeah, that's a big no-can-do on that one.

[And then further conversation is cut off. The whiteness returns for a moment, but something else quickly floods in to fill it.


The music is a sassy piano routine, a welcoming tune to greet newcomers to a saloon from 1800s America. Will is settled behind the bar, in a white dress shirt with a red vest, suddenly sporting a handlebar mustache.

the bar is populated with a number of other types, Western-styled men and women chattering noisily. They're all in full view from Jemma's vantage point, as she seems to be settled onstage. Her own costume is a full saloon girl, down to an oversized feather in her hair.

And though she might be strong enough to fight it, she might experience the oddest compulsion to dance.]

[bravejemma]

[That music is pretty catchy, but what is she wearing, and no stop tapping this instant, foot. Those populating the saloon are kind of oddly formed, like an animated rendering of a real person from just this side of the uncanny valley.

Since this is a simulation of some kind, she has no problem what so ever calling to Will over the music.]

What the bloody hell are you doing?

[projecthydra]

[He looks up to her, speaking pleasantly with a deep Southern drawl.]

Tending my bar, Ma'am. 'Taint gonna do much good if I try to make people drink out of dirty glasses.

[He returns back to wiping down glassware, and the saloon's double doors open. The new entrants are wireframe figures, humanoid in movement but mostly featureless aside from their period-appropriate clothing.

and though it's impossible to tell who's here, they're definitely using technical lingo. One of them mentions the normal refresh rate for the projections, and another comments on the horribly outdated textures. Can't they just scrap the entire suite and get a less-broken model?]

[bravejemma]

[She's about to reply that his mustache looks ridiculous, because that is the best answer she has at the moment, but the interruption catches her attention. It only takes her seconds before she jumps off the stage and hurries over.]

Hello, this is science officer Jemma Simmons --

[They're not paying attention.]

Hello?

[Right. Of course they can't hear her. Because that would be easy.]

[projecthydra]

[
"And this one's not even running the program right." One of them grabs Jemma's shoulders and turns her back toward the stage. "I used to play this one all the time when I was a kid. The girl dances until the barfight--"

Two of the cowboys knock over a table then, shoving one another into the bar. The patrons gasp in unison, attention diverting to the action at hand.

"There it is. Maybe she's just running off-timer or something..."
]

[bravejemma]

Excuse me--

[Her indignation is short lived, as the two cowboys shove past them into the bar, and take about half of those questionably clean glasses down to the floor with a crash. But why did they think she was part of the simulation, let alone had been a part of it for what was clearly some time?]

Why do they think I'm part of the computer?

[projecthydra]

Later, Jem.

[Will speaks quickly, occupied with trying to pull the two men apart.

One of them reaches for his holster, and then there's a gunshot. Will gasps and slumps over the bar, a dark red patch staining the white of his shirt.

The same impulse that almost prompted Jemma to dance before snarls anew; she needs to scream, to cling to the User beside her and beg them to bring the outlaw to justice.]

[bravejemma]

[Despite the urge to play the faint-hearted damsel, Jemma does as she usually does, and does as she likes without a care as to what some stranger would like. Was that really their selected fantasy? Heroic gunslinger? People were strange.

With a little difficulty, she climbs over the bar and lowers Will to the dirty floor (with maybe a little bit of a thud, sorry, Will). The wound is bleeding -- or is it? -- and she casts a look around for something to hold against the wound. The bar rag is right out, and nothing else is in immediate view.]

Hold on -- Just put some pressure there, and I'll try to get a better look.