Fic; The Story About How Alex Saw The Future While Aboard The HSS Cerebro, Oceanpunk 'verse
Title The Story About How Alex Saw The Future While Aboard The HSS Cerebro
Rating PG for now
Summary Continuation of Oceanpunk 'verse.
Disclaimer Will never own, boo.
“What’s that?” Alex pointed to a long formula scrawled in a neat, straight line in Hank’s open notebook, his finger perilously close to the page as Hank hunched over the book, protectively.
Wary of Alex’s skill in machinery, Hank had given him a change of clothing and the task of wiping down every flat surface in the ship’s lab while they both tried to ignore the awkwardness of each other’s company in the small space. Even the simple task, though, was proving difficult - at least to Hank’s standards. “You’ve missed a spot over there. And get your finger away from my book; I don’t want anything to smudge.”
The change of clothing had been a spare crew uniform found by MacTaggart, who grumbled the whole way but gave Alex an appreciative once-over nonetheless. The dark blue of the jacket should have made him look more washed out, but the sharp cut of the shoulders and lines in the back fit him nicely, and Hank found that he paid no attention to the contrast of his skin in favor of sneaking glances to the taper of his waist. The pants fit nicely, too. And those boots must have been recently traded. Alex wore the jacket unbuttoned, plain white shirt visible underneath, either a blatant display of his disregard for military conduct or just a reflection of how casually he was taking his new placement onto the ship. Hank’s own uniform was buttoned, zipped, and pressed, the two short lines depicting his rank as Lieutenant proudly displayed at his collar. Alex went to the spot that Hank had indicated, and came back when he was done.
“So?” he asked, flinging the rag over his shoulder and crossing his arms. “What is that?” Instead of pointing, he raised his chin at it.
Hank sighed. “It’s a formula for the principle of entropy.”
“What’s antropy?”
“Entropy is basically the second law of thermodynamics. When you have a conversion of energy,” Hank tried to explain simply, “you lose much of that energy as heat. Entropy is the tendency for that conversion of energy to keep converting.”
Alex looked at him blankly.
“It’s part of every Academy’s first year curriculum. Don’t you remember? What Academy did your parents send you to? There may be words.”
“Um,” Alex said, picking up a magnifying glass on the table and rubbing it with the cloth absent-mindedly. “My parents died when I was four. I grew up in the General’s Childcare System. And, you know, we only had to finish up to year eight of Primary. But it’s not like I even got there, because they found out about my Sight before then.”
“Oh,” Hank said dumbly, pen stilling against his paper. Alex put the magnifying glass back onto the table. “You didn’t finish Primary?”
“No,” he said, a twist in his lips. “My brother and I ran away. Well, I ran away. He was old enough to emancipate.”
“That’s-“ Hank struggled for the words. “Irresponsible.”
Alex said, “I didn’t feel like being hooked up to monitors and brain imagers all day so that when I had a vision about the future of the Islands the General would know and see and ask. I was thirteen; I wanted to be paid for it.”
“They wouldn’t have hooked you up to machines all day.”
“So, entropy,” Alex said abruptly, jolting Hank in his seat. “It’s kind of like magic.”
The scientist narrowed his eyes. “It’s nothing like magic,” he argued, impassioned. “Nothing at all. It’s fact. There are formulas and proofs! It’s predictable. It’s science.”
“When I See something,” Alex continued, “it sets things in motion. It’s a point of impact. All things that happen after add to the chaos. What I See doesn’t always come true. Once I See it, multiple paths open up for the future. Entropy.”
“We’re not talking about dimensions, here.”
“You’re not talking about dimensions. I might be. I’m not sure, actually.”
“There’s no science behind seeing the future!”
“How do you know?”
“I know because-“ and Hank had to pause because he couldn’t cite any study that proved just that. “Science and magic are two separate things,” he hedged. “Two separate worlds.”
“No, McCoy. They’re just two different ways to manipulate the world. The same world. Your science is magic to me.”
“There are no rules to magic,” Hank said, trying to keep the pleased tone out of his voice, as Alex picked up another object from the table; he was loathe to admit that this was the most fun he had had talking to anyone within the past year, at least. The blonde carefully rubbed the smooth surface of Hank’s pocket watch with the cloth. “In science, A + B = C - that’s a rule!” He scribbled down the simple equation in the margins of his notebook. “In magic, A + B could equal C, or D, or C minus D, or three! The rules change with each magic user. It’s unreliable and foundationless.” He expected a response and found none.
Hank glanced up with a frown, wondering how Alex could concede so quickly. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Should he panic? Call for help? Splash the mug of cold tea in Alex’s face? The blonde had frozen in place, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes fixed on the center of Hank’s pocket watch, which the scientist saw was now in the palm of Alex’s hand. It was the eyes, though, that really got him. Irises that had been grey-blue before, like the color of a stormy sea, were now a violent, pulsing red.
In a second his irises returned to their natural color, and he crumpled to the floor, groaning. “Was that-?” Hank asked, stunned, heart racing. “Did you just See something? Was that you Seeing something?”
“Bin,” Alex mumbled against the floor. “Oh, ‘seidon, a bin. I’m going to be sick all over your floor.”
Hank scrambled for a bin. Luckily, there was one right by his desk. He slammed this down next to Alex, which in hindsight was not the best action, as Alex winced against the noise and then proceeded to vomit into the container. Hank turned away, stomach queasy. “What did you See?” he asked when some of the vomiting had subsided. “Also, I’m tossing that whole bin out, later. Moira will have others to spare.”
“Thought you thought magic was unreliable and foundationless.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not interested,” Hank admitted.
“You’re from the New England Islands, district MA-021?”
“How did you-? Yes. That’s where I’m from.”
“When you go home, after we’ve all found Charles and had some adventures, your mother will be very happy to see you.”
“How did you know we’re looking for Charles? And is that all? Of course my mother will be very happy to see me.”
Alex didn’t answer for a very long time. Hank thought that maybe he was fighting off another wave of nausea. He did not expect the following: “She’ll be happy to see that you’ve finally brought someone home with you.”
“Um,” he said. “What? Who was it?”
“And I Saw where Charles is!”
Hank was not stupid; he was incredibly smart, and so did not miss the abrupt shift in topic and significance of it. “It’s someone on this ship, isn’t it?” he asked with dread. Moira was the only woman on the ship, which, ha, fat chance. Hank had always known he’d swung the pendulum both ways, but to have it confirmed via Sight…Not that he firmly believed in visions of the future.
“He’s being shielded by a magic user, which is why you’ve never been able to find him!”
“And it’s probably a man, then.”
Alex said, “Hank. Charles is being held prisoner by the General on Stryker Island in the Pacific Colonies!”
Which Hank conceded was very important information - of much greater importance than the specifics of his love life. He nodded, aware that Alex’s hands were on his shoulders and that they were both crouched on the floor. “I should tell the Captain of this. I’ll need proof, though. He’ll want proof, you know.”
“Bah,” Alex said, or something like it. “Proof. He’ll want Charles more than he’ll want proof.”
Again, Hank had to admit that Alex was right about that.
-endstory.
Rating PG for now
Summary Continuation of Oceanpunk 'verse.
Disclaimer Will never own, boo.
“What’s that?” Alex pointed to a long formula scrawled in a neat, straight line in Hank’s open notebook, his finger perilously close to the page as Hank hunched over the book, protectively.
Wary of Alex’s skill in machinery, Hank had given him a change of clothing and the task of wiping down every flat surface in the ship’s lab while they both tried to ignore the awkwardness of each other’s company in the small space. Even the simple task, though, was proving difficult - at least to Hank’s standards. “You’ve missed a spot over there. And get your finger away from my book; I don’t want anything to smudge.”
The change of clothing had been a spare crew uniform found by MacTaggart, who grumbled the whole way but gave Alex an appreciative once-over nonetheless. The dark blue of the jacket should have made him look more washed out, but the sharp cut of the shoulders and lines in the back fit him nicely, and Hank found that he paid no attention to the contrast of his skin in favor of sneaking glances to the taper of his waist. The pants fit nicely, too. And those boots must have been recently traded. Alex wore the jacket unbuttoned, plain white shirt visible underneath, either a blatant display of his disregard for military conduct or just a reflection of how casually he was taking his new placement onto the ship. Hank’s own uniform was buttoned, zipped, and pressed, the two short lines depicting his rank as Lieutenant proudly displayed at his collar. Alex went to the spot that Hank had indicated, and came back when he was done.
“So?” he asked, flinging the rag over his shoulder and crossing his arms. “What is that?” Instead of pointing, he raised his chin at it.
Hank sighed. “It’s a formula for the principle of entropy.”
“What’s antropy?”
“Entropy is basically the second law of thermodynamics. When you have a conversion of energy,” Hank tried to explain simply, “you lose much of that energy as heat. Entropy is the tendency for that conversion of energy to keep converting.”
Alex looked at him blankly.
“It’s part of every Academy’s first year curriculum. Don’t you remember? What Academy did your parents send you to? There may be words.”
“Um,” Alex said, picking up a magnifying glass on the table and rubbing it with the cloth absent-mindedly. “My parents died when I was four. I grew up in the General’s Childcare System. And, you know, we only had to finish up to year eight of Primary. But it’s not like I even got there, because they found out about my Sight before then.”
“Oh,” Hank said dumbly, pen stilling against his paper. Alex put the magnifying glass back onto the table. “You didn’t finish Primary?”
“No,” he said, a twist in his lips. “My brother and I ran away. Well, I ran away. He was old enough to emancipate.”
“That’s-“ Hank struggled for the words. “Irresponsible.”
Alex said, “I didn’t feel like being hooked up to monitors and brain imagers all day so that when I had a vision about the future of the Islands the General would know and see and ask. I was thirteen; I wanted to be paid for it.”
“They wouldn’t have hooked you up to machines all day.”
“So, entropy,” Alex said abruptly, jolting Hank in his seat. “It’s kind of like magic.”
The scientist narrowed his eyes. “It’s nothing like magic,” he argued, impassioned. “Nothing at all. It’s fact. There are formulas and proofs! It’s predictable. It’s science.”
“When I See something,” Alex continued, “it sets things in motion. It’s a point of impact. All things that happen after add to the chaos. What I See doesn’t always come true. Once I See it, multiple paths open up for the future. Entropy.”
“We’re not talking about dimensions, here.”
“You’re not talking about dimensions. I might be. I’m not sure, actually.”
“There’s no science behind seeing the future!”
“How do you know?”
“I know because-“ and Hank had to pause because he couldn’t cite any study that proved just that. “Science and magic are two separate things,” he hedged. “Two separate worlds.”
“No, McCoy. They’re just two different ways to manipulate the world. The same world. Your science is magic to me.”
“There are no rules to magic,” Hank said, trying to keep the pleased tone out of his voice, as Alex picked up another object from the table; he was loathe to admit that this was the most fun he had had talking to anyone within the past year, at least. The blonde carefully rubbed the smooth surface of Hank’s pocket watch with the cloth. “In science, A + B = C - that’s a rule!” He scribbled down the simple equation in the margins of his notebook. “In magic, A + B could equal C, or D, or C minus D, or three! The rules change with each magic user. It’s unreliable and foundationless.” He expected a response and found none.
Hank glanced up with a frown, wondering how Alex could concede so quickly. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Should he panic? Call for help? Splash the mug of cold tea in Alex’s face? The blonde had frozen in place, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes fixed on the center of Hank’s pocket watch, which the scientist saw was now in the palm of Alex’s hand. It was the eyes, though, that really got him. Irises that had been grey-blue before, like the color of a stormy sea, were now a violent, pulsing red.
In a second his irises returned to their natural color, and he crumpled to the floor, groaning. “Was that-?” Hank asked, stunned, heart racing. “Did you just See something? Was that you Seeing something?”
“Bin,” Alex mumbled against the floor. “Oh, ‘seidon, a bin. I’m going to be sick all over your floor.”
Hank scrambled for a bin. Luckily, there was one right by his desk. He slammed this down next to Alex, which in hindsight was not the best action, as Alex winced against the noise and then proceeded to vomit into the container. Hank turned away, stomach queasy. “What did you See?” he asked when some of the vomiting had subsided. “Also, I’m tossing that whole bin out, later. Moira will have others to spare.”
“Thought you thought magic was unreliable and foundationless.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not interested,” Hank admitted.
“You’re from the New England Islands, district MA-021?”
“How did you-? Yes. That’s where I’m from.”
“When you go home, after we’ve all found Charles and had some adventures, your mother will be very happy to see you.”
“How did you know we’re looking for Charles? And is that all? Of course my mother will be very happy to see me.”
Alex didn’t answer for a very long time. Hank thought that maybe he was fighting off another wave of nausea. He did not expect the following: “She’ll be happy to see that you’ve finally brought someone home with you.”
“Um,” he said. “What? Who was it?”
“And I Saw where Charles is!”
Hank was not stupid; he was incredibly smart, and so did not miss the abrupt shift in topic and significance of it. “It’s someone on this ship, isn’t it?” he asked with dread. Moira was the only woman on the ship, which, ha, fat chance. Hank had always known he’d swung the pendulum both ways, but to have it confirmed via Sight…Not that he firmly believed in visions of the future.
“He’s being shielded by a magic user, which is why you’ve never been able to find him!”
“And it’s probably a man, then.”
Alex said, “Hank. Charles is being held prisoner by the General on Stryker Island in the Pacific Colonies!”
Which Hank conceded was very important information - of much greater importance than the specifics of his love life. He nodded, aware that Alex’s hands were on his shoulders and that they were both crouched on the floor. “I should tell the Captain of this. I’ll need proof, though. He’ll want proof, you know.”
“Bah,” Alex said, or something like it. “Proof. He’ll want Charles more than he’ll want proof.”
Again, Hank had to admit that Alex was right about that.
-endstory.