truth_is_cold

[Public | Audio]

Deal with this however you deem necessary. I don't care. I don't have any information that I can give outside of a functioning warden item and the assurance that there is still food available. What I do care about is that the people demoted, some of them worked hard to get there.

I sometimes have doubted my abilities as a warden, but I don't doubt that my inmate needs me. That as an inmate, there were intolerable conditions that no one should have to go through. And it wasn't the torture of alternate histories, it wasn't a lack of food or necessities, it wasn't the conflicts that we had to rise to. It was the indifference. We were disposable, we knew we were disposable. Many of the wardens here- new wardens that fought their way up from that -that gave their own lives meaning again rather than just hoping that they would find a permanent death.

They have to stand here and be told that was for nothing? Just because they know it's hard. Just because they have to look at their inmate and face the same odds that they faced, they have to be told that they don't deserve what they earned? These people are not punch clocks. None of us were.

Most of us had some warden that believed in us, even if it wasn't our own. So those of you that were demoted that worked hard to get here, those of you that feel guilty and worthless, or remotely incapable, this judgment is absolutely false. If you have it in you to disagree with any of this insanity, that's just as flawed. And to the current Admiral, I think you know it as well as I do.

[Spam for Ben]

[Rhade knows that Ben needs him, and he's not got the capacity to do any bridge raids. So it's Ben's room that he goes to next. He thumps on the door, and has a look either way down the hall.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Have you learned anything about Mozart recently? [He is terrible at playing music, but his mother left him with a good ear. When they reach the art room it's easy to get in; they don't need a key for supplies and they brought their own music.]

[Even distracted, even shut down, Ben's mind still works when he's not traumatized past the point of functioning. He doesn't even hesitate, voice metronome steady.]

Throughout the course of his life, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was responsible for composing over six hundred separate musical works, including fifty symphonies, twenty-five piano concertos, twelve violin concertos, twenty-seven concert arias, twenty-six string quartets, one hundred and three minuets, fifteen masses, and twenty-one operatic scores.

Very good. Thorough. And what were the twenty-five piano concertos about?

[He decides to let Ben wonder about that for a minute.] I have some of them here. [And he puts down his music player when they're far out of the way.]

I don't understand the question, sir.

[He doesn't spend much time wondering; he doesn't know the answer, though he could recite the keys of each of them and associated alternative titles. Data is easy. It's become easy. His eyes track the movement of the player, and he stops when Rhade does, falling to loose attention.]

This is a man that took a pig's squeal and identified it as G-Minor. He could take the things around him, apply music to them, and create a story. But it's a story that people would love even without knowing its meaning.

So, I want you to listen and think his possible story, and then how you would tell one.

[He sits and just decides to wait while Ben listens.]

[Ben's glance at Rhade is doubtful, though almost too quick to see before he's resigned himself to blank neutrality. He's listened to the music, he's analyzed it, and he's even noted in a subconscious way that certain pieces remind him of certain people without being able to articulate why.

Rhade's assignment still confuses him, the timing and the subject of it, his mind half on what Alex is doing, Anya, if Aya is getting along alright at this moment. The track finishes and Ben's gaze ticks up to Rhade's immediately, still standing where he'd started.]

You want me to compare the sounds produced by the piece of music and the instruments with sounds produced by other entities.

I want you to think of music that would happen in the background of one of your stories. I want you to think of the rise and fall and tempo, and the instruments you think would be appropriate to represent each character.

Do you recall the sheet music I gave you, and how the background music was meant to emphasize the words?

I do.

[He looks back down at the player, still more idle calculation than the active interest he had been beginning to show with some regularity before all of this. Blinking, he tilts his head.]

I can try.

Then that's what we'll do. And then when you're done thinking about it, and have something composed, I will give ideas on what stories yours made me think of.

They may be incorrect, but that's no reflection on you. Just that another message was taken away from it.

[Rhade says "they may be incorrect" and it's an allowance, an excuse from blame, but Ben's expression clears in concentration anyway. He trusts Rhade more than he ever thought he would, more than anyone else outside of his unit, but he still has a programmed response to failure.

So he repeats the track, listening intently to the music from where he's still standing at a comfortable attention, and as soon as the last note has cut off he looks up and says, simply,]

Birds. [He hesitates, then, as if searching for a reaction. He is, but a moment later he adds more.] Flocks of them. Vying for space among the branches in the forest.

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