etrayamemes | TDM 005

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TDM 005

⏵ arrival ⏴
Arrival goes as anticipated. Characters awaken in a sterile hospital bed in a clean, white room to the hum of machines under the unnatural lighting common to well-kept institutions. Every bit was designed to be comforting and calming, even with the jarring undercurrent of this situation.

The first face they see is Aurora's: her smile appears to be warm, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She might offer a quick explanation, or leave characters to figure it out for themselves depending on their approach.

The door to the room swings open, revealing a hallway that stretches out ahead of them. There’s noise from outside and strong pumpkin spice scents coming from the lobby. Ah, muffins and tea. Grab one and head into the crisp, sunny fall morning ahead.

⏵ potluck ⏴
Cutthroat Iron Etrayan Bake-Off

As you step out of the arrival holding area into the main thoroughfare, the entire street has been turned into tents and chef stations to accommodate the activities of thirty people at once. There’s seats, trailers, and robots bustling about to make sure everyone is ready.

A couple of cheerful robots in aprons and colorful sweaters approach and redirect you as you step towards the cooking area. There’s gas ranges, ovens, grills, blast chillers, mixers, and set walk-ins and pantries with just about every ingredient you can imagine. There are cameramen (also robots) patrolling the area to capture all your best moments and to broadcast them directly to your fellow citizens’ devices.

Your instruction? “Make your signature dish. You have one hour, chef.”

It can’t just be straightforward, can it? The land itself is held together with pure chaotic energy. If you’re lucky, all goes as planned. If you aren’t… well…

Roll a Die

1	Your leg is now tied to another chef’s	2	Your meal is continually un-cooking itself.
3	All of your ingredients are pickled now	4	The longer you touch an ingredient, the bigger it gets.
5	Every time you lift your pot lid, a component changes.	6	The aromatics are glowing and flashing like LED lights.
7	Your knife has been replaced with a cheese grater.	8	The ingredients are now magnetically stuck together.
9	Your meal is becoming deep fried.	10	Kittens are multiplying out of the cupboard. *
11	All of your ingredients have become incredibly heavy.	12	Your cook pot moves burners whenever you turn around.
13	Eggs scream when you crack them	14	The kitchen has become incredibly slippery.
15	It’s soup now.	16	All utensils have been replaced with crustaceans. **
17	Your knife has a mind of its own. Watch out!	18	Your fridge catches fire.
19	Your pasta is trying to escape. Go get it.	20	Any ingredient not in the pot starts to float away.

* All kittens disappear at the end.
** These however, stay.

⏵ share a meal ⏴
As all the cooking concludes, you will be invited to plate your meal into one of many casserole dishes, regardless of what was made. A ladle will be tucked into the corner and placed on the table with a folded bit of cardstock declaring the chef’s name and the name of the dish. A helper camerabot will come around to each participant and ask for their thinking and their process.

Even if you got away without having to cook, even looking towards the table of dishes will spur a helper bot to start making you a plate with one of everything. The helperbot will insist that it is rude to not at least try what their peers have made.

In fact, if you are to fill out the score card for each person, you really must taste everything! The robots can’t try the food, so it’s up to you.

The cards look like so. The grading system is opaque. Is it meant to be numbers? Stars? Letter grades? Well, you’re the judge. You figure it out.

Chef: ___________ Dish:_____________ Judge:___________ Overall Rating:_______

Flavor
Presentation
Stackability
Wet
Originality
Rizz

⏵ tummy ache survivor ⏴
No matter how well your compatriots cooked or baked their dishes, there are… factors. You see that carrot? It’s really just condensed chaos in the shape of a carrot. No matter how powerful you are, these particular ingredients may not mesh with your being.

…And even if it is truly a carrot, do all the chefs know the proper cooking temperature of chicken? Even chickens are aliens to many.

(Optional) Roll a Die

1	Tummy Ache. Go lay in bed. Complaining alleviates symptoms.
2	That plate of food has energized you. You feel compelled to race or spar.
3	The food has reminded you of home. You must tell someone a detail of your childhood.
4	That food was so horrible that it simply must be washed out somehow. Spicy peppers? Booze? Gravel??? You’re going to over do it.
5	You have now discovered your new favorite dish. Make them teach it to you or you’ll lose sleep over it. This is all you want to eat for the next week.
6	The oddity of the ingredients has transferred to you. You start floating away.
7	The range of food and textures have inspired you. Acquire an annoying new hobby or habit.
8	You are now haunted by the digital souls of chickens.

⏵ NOTES ⏴

Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment!

⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

With a better angle, John can take in the state of Will's clothing better. It really, truly is a lot of blood. And the way he phrased "wouldn't be truthful" makes it seem like some of it isn't his. So then he was in a fight before coming here? Arrived injured and was taken care of in the hospital? Things to think about later. Just because someone appears unassuming doesn't mean anything in this place; for all he knows this Will has some sort of supernatural powers and doesn't need a weapon like the gun John keeps out of sight.

"I'm John. There's a clothing store not far away, they have almost anything you could want and it's all free. I'll show you the way and can answer any questions you have."

He's noted the way Will is avoiding eye contact, wonders if that's a nervous reaction. Certainly he'd paid close attention during his initial foray into the conversation. But John remembers his own arrival, his deep paranoia and suspicion of everyone he ran into. He can't exactly point fingers at anyone who does the same to him.

For what it's worth, most of Will's friends and colleagues would rather Will never use a gun again. He is a terrible shot. More and more, he relies on a plain edged Spyderco Harpy knife, like the one that is tucked in his pocket, or his bare hands if properly motivated.

His most lethal weapon, without a doubt, has always been his imagination. Whether a person wanted to label his 'pure empathy' a superpower; he'd leave to the individual to decide.

"Will." He responds, upon the prompting towards polite manners. "Graham." 'Keep trying Will'. His head bobs a little, as if an inner voice is prodding him to do better and, on the heels of a deep sigh, he clarifies. "Will Graham. My name is Will Graham."

'It's ...,' he glances at his watch, before realizing it's unlikely to align with the passage of time in this reality, 'and I'm ... nope, no clue where I am.

Two realizations that nudge him towards being more open to the idea of an escort, than he normally would have tolerated. He still takes a moment to accept that traveling with, this man -John- might help reassure any people they might encounter that there was no need to make a scene about the blood soaked fabric.

'So much for finding a dark hole to hide in until I process this.'

"I'd ..." sorry John, it takes Will a minute to decide on an appropriate word ..."appreciate that. I haven't had much luck finding anything around here. Which I should have anticipated since the only individual I've seen introduced herself as Aurora and appeared to be," 'a hallucination, a figment of my imagination', "incorporeal."

Nailed it!

John can tell that Will is finding this difficult, in some way. It is difficult. John didn't take his arrival very well, and he didn't arrive soaked in blood. It must be whiplash for Will. Just on the other side of bloody combat (or even perhaps in the middle of it) one moment and then waking up to an AI the next. He finds himself sympathetic towards the other man, and patience in sympathy. He just waits until Will seems like he's completed his thought.

"Aurora is an AI, if you know what those are." John makes a little motion with his hand to indicate Will should follow him out of the hospital. "This way."

He makes sure his pace is comfortable, a little slower than how he prefers, both to accommodate Will's shorter stature and because he doesn't need to push him in what's already a difficult situation.

John was spot on in his assessment. Going from a fight for his life, to being part of a brutal murder (it was self defense, never mind the whole set up, shhhhh) and then hurtling off a cliff? Will's got some things to process.

For the time being, he falls into step with the taller man. Whether he conscious realizes it or not, he is grateful that John isn't utilizing his full stride. Years spent keeping up with Jack Crawford had trained Will in how to stride out, but he really doesn't feel up to moving that strenuously at the moment.

"AI?" He says, thinking back to Aurora and comparing to what he knows of technology back home. "Closest thing to AI we have back home is a Furby." He's being a little facetious. He knows that strides are being made in Silicone Valley in the field of artificial intelligence, but no where near the level of Aurora or The Machine.

Ah... Furby... John kind of remembers what that is, but he was in the Army at the time. Some guys talked about how their kids had them or wanted them. Some sort of talking toy. Nothing close to what Aurora is. It gives him a starting point.

"Assuming Aurora functions how I'd expect, she's essentially a computer that's capable of processing information far beyond what a human can. She has the ability to understand human speech, though it's impossible to say if she's capable of understanding the full range of what you or I would consider 'emotions'. And it wouldn't be a stretch to believe that she's observing and analyzing everything we do, even when she's not with us. Hidden cameras and microphones, all reporting back to her, and because she's a super computer she can process all the data at once."

It's a lot to process and he's been talking a lot, so he pauses there to let Will catch up with this revelation. John had gotten used to being observed by the Machine, had even come to be comforted somewhat by Harold's own watchful gaze. He feels only cold dread knowing that Aurora is likely doing the same right now.

For Will the idea of constant observation is complicated.

He certainly does not have the range of experience that John and Harold had with the Machine. Will's twenty-four/seven monitoring had come while he'd been a "guest" of Chilton's. Not a particularly good memory.

Rather than being excited, or openly horrified, by the idea, Will's seems resigned if the drop of his head and shoulders is anything to go by.

"Orwell would feel right at home," he says. His voice soft enough that the comment might have been Will talking to himself.

"Any evidence that she is doing anything with the data she's collecting?"

John gives a shake of his head. "Nothing to even prove she's observing that much. It's an extrapolation of the kind of skillset an AI of that level has, plus the idea that we're being measured in some way to prove our worth. It's possible that the missions are the only judging criteria, but it seems unlikely to me. At the very least we are being observed during missions to see if we meet the goals stated."

Will's... resignation? To the situation is curious. The quick acceptance, rather than rejecting it in some way. He doesn't appear to be upset by it, or angry. Hasn't seemed that way about any of the situation so far. Just going along with it. John can't say what that means about him, but it's a fact to file away.

Even were John to inquire about Will's calm, the ex-profile would be hard pressed to explain. Where would he even start? Hell, who would even believe him if he tried to explain?

Best to keep the conversation focused on the here, and the now.

"Missions?"

It is a single word, but tone is everything. A request, in the upward lift of the last syllable, indicating he'd like to hear more about these missions.

Truly the topic they should be discussing. "We get assigned missions here. I've only participated in one but I'm told they're every one or two months apart. The most recent one involved getting an assigned team and having to build a car from scratch. I've been told other ones involved living in a different city in assigned family units, being given brainwashing stuffed animals, and being trapped in a labyrinth filled with danger. When we were told about the cars Aurora gave specific instructions on what we would be judged on, namely teamwork. Winning the race was just a bonus."

Teamwork, everyone (except Fabian) has been telling him about teamwork. Aurora herself has requested teamwork. He doesn't like teamwork, but making allies is important so teamwork is inevitable. Mandatory, even. He much prefers back home where it's just him and Harold, with some occasional help.

"My father repaired boats for a living," Will finds himself sharing. "I like to tinker with outboard motors as a way to relax."

No idea why he'd just offered up that bit of information, except that a mission to build a car from scratch would have been right up Will's alley. The others missions John describes? Will's going to have to take some time to process how he felt about those scenarios.

Knee-Jerk thoughts? He hates them, thank you very much.

"Not sure I'm going to win any high points for teamwork," he muses further. "Did your team win?"

John could give a sigh, offer up his disappointment. He is, genuinely, a little disappointed they didn't win. The prize for winning was too good to pass up. But he isn't really in the mood for that kind of acting. He doesn't think it'll get him anything here, even though Will is offering up bits of himself without prompting.

"We didn't. The teamwork wasn't that bad. We got given special tasks to perform in order to get auxiliary parts for the car. Pitching a tent without instructions, that sort of thing." He's not going to mention he had to make a secret handshake with a cheerleader. He has a bit of pride even if he didn't win.

It was probably a good thing that Will hadn't been here for this particular mission. He would have been hard pressed to engage in these special tasks, and his team would have suffered for it. When he briefly considers what he did to his last team? The utter destruction he left in his wake?

The expectations Echo has for them might be beyond what Will can deliver.

"Sounds .. like a thoroughly miserable experience." He says, in a flat tone that suggests he genuinely finds what John's describing to be as desirable as a root canal. "I'll take the labyrinth."

That's certainly something. Teamwork isn't John's favorite but to have someone reject it so blatantly... he does have some news for Will and he's curious how it will land.

"From what I gather those who ended up in the labyrinth had no food or water and monsters trying to kill them." And they were split into groups, but John purposefully withholds that information. Is Will so invested in striking out alone that he's willing to take that over pitching a tent in a group? He mentioned tinkering with motors, which sounds like a solo pastime. How far does is tendency towards isolation go?

Will believes he has enough of a read on John to recognize that the larger man is skillfully weaving a comfortable conversation, designed to draw information out of him. The ex-profiler even admires the technique. Be friendly, helpful, unassuming. Don't ask direct questions, just use comments that invite the other person to overshare.

He briefly considers shutting this conversation down. Thanking John for his assistance to this point, asking him to point in the direction of this used clothes shop, and them striking off on his own. But he recognizes that he can answer the question, without giving away too much. Recognizes that by providing strategically selected crumbs, perhaps they will be enough to satisfy John where a flat refusal would only stoke his curiosity.

Sometimes, the best way to answer what you don't want to talk about, is to give a little and avoid additional questions.

"I hunt monsters for a living," he offers, and then amends. "Mostly I taught young cadets how to hunt monsters for a living. Monsters are simple. People pretending to be your friend, for their own gain, are much more dangerous."

Is that a warning? Or is it an observation about teamwork? Of course, John might interpret it as a warning because he knows that he's pretending to be friendly with Will. Or, at least— there was some genuine sympathy, at first, for Will's situation. It's not easy to end up here suddenly. But the comment about hunting monsters sheds a bit more context onto his comment about not all the blood being his. But it could also just be a comment about teamwork. Even if it was a warning it would be suspicious to just turn Will away here, and John has never balked from a challenge. He's not going to start now.

"Or maybe, someone is an ally waiting to be made. It can be hard to go at it all alone." Not that John has taken this advice, though he's well aware it is advice. He's not exactly alone either, he has Harold. And that's enough. Everyone else can just be a card for him to play when the time is right. That's why he's gathered them.

John is doing a good job of weaving the sort of warm and fuzzy persona that would lull a panicked individual, looking for comfort, into a false sense of security. Will just happens to be universally disagreeable, even when he's feeling comfortable about his situation and surroundings.

"Most people are an ally when it is beneficial to them," is Will's response. He is absolutely thinking about Jack Crawford when he says those words, so they are laced with a fair share of bitterness.

"If what Aurora explained to me when I woke, is genuinely our purpose for being here? This 'Echo's' long game may be rooted in the expectation that we will ultimately have to turn against one another to reach our goals."

He really is just a little ray of sunshine, isn't he?

John doesn't disagree with Will at all. And given that Fabian said there was a rumor people in other cities were having to fight each other, he thinks Will is spot on. He's not going to lie to Will and claim he's wrong, but he needs to phrase this in such a way where they're not enemies day one. From what John can tell, that won't actually benefit either of them.

"You might be right, but I think you're more right about it being a long game. Aurora mentioned one of the prizes for winning the race would be to help pick the theme for the next mission, so there's another one lined up already. I don't think we're in danger of this turning into an all out war just yet."

John's plan is to make allies now and betray them later, though he's not about to offer that piece of information up.

In the wake of John's response, Will can't help but think of the scenario he'd just left. Hannibal and himself, two men who had tried countless times to kill one another, teaming so seamlessly together to take down Dolarhyde.

"So often our enemies end up being our strongest allies. Especially when it comes to a greater, mutual threat," he speaks so softly he is probably making the remark more to himself than directly to John. But to ears as well trained and keen as John's? Reese can probably observe that Will is definitely speaking from experience. "An enemy often knows you better than a friend."

Elias immediately springs to mind. They're not friends, not exactly, but they have a mutual understanding. They know each other. They work together. John thinks of how Elias saved him from a beating in the prison yard that could have been so much worse.

"That seems like a good reason to get to know people. Why not work together until you can't anymore?" The answer, of course, is that it's much harder to betray people you actually like. People you've gotten close to despite every insistence that you won't. But that's going to be what separates the strong from the weak: those willing to shoot their allies and those who have grown too attached.

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TDM 005

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