Re: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 1: Training Facility ONX)
08-03-2010, 02:54 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
During his storage in the SCP facility, Lloyd was periodically interrogated. It was, for them, a relatively simple process. Two copies of the same 700-page hardcover book were printed; initially, they were identical.
"The plain, white room measured five meters by five meters. There were no doors or windows, but the air never got stale or stagnant. Other than a display set into one wall, two comfortable beige recliners facing it, and a small table between them, it was entirely empty. In one chair, a nondescript, middle-aged man sat, frozen in time. He would awaken a few seconds before any other being entered the room, and, when conscious, he was capable of calling a great number of items into existence. These items would not survive outside the room, but they were as real as the rest of it while they were there. He possessed a near-perfect knowledge of Earth circa 2009, able to recall anything from world history to modern culture.
The display on the wall, although its mechanism was unknown, would somehow change to reflect the page number of the novel it occupied. It currently displayed the number one, as well as the percentage of pages passed (0.14%).
Were anyone to enter the room, the man would greet them by name, offer them a seat, and propose an exchange of information. For every question the visitor answered, the man would return the favour to the best of his ability."
-The Fifth Interview, Dr. Werrington.
The remaining 699 pages were blank. One copy was stored in the cabinet, and the other went through the procedure to transfer Lloyd into it. Lloyd was reluctant at first, but he quickly came to see the value in the data the man provided, accepting the offer almost jovially in later interviews. (He rationalized this to himself as a chance to buck anyone's preconceptions of him as chaotic-neutral, actively ignoring the inherent paradoxicality of such an act.)
In one of the earlier interviews, the man had asked him what motivated him, and Lloyd outlined his desire to shake up the otherwise monotonous lives of most characters. For his next question, though, the man asked again, "why?"
At this, Lloyd was stumped. He tried a few lines of thought, failed, and eventually settled on saying, "It's who I am; it's what I do."
While he waited for Karen to come back to her senses, he thought over it again. Now, he had even less of an idea what would motivate him. Here, there wasn't a set plot to throw off, so his primary goal was meaningless.
"No," he said, murmuring to himself, "not entirely. The Monitor knows how he wants this all to go down. He's the closest thing to an author there is here. I can still do my best to rock his boat."
Next to him, Karen sat up, clearly in pain. There was a bit of a cut on her arm, but it wasn't serious. She was probably fairly sore, he guessed. Casually, he asked, "you in one piece?"
After a brief exchange, she curled up into a ball and turned away, telling him to leave her alone.
He considered this for a moment. "Listen," he said, "you were playing a game. That's great and all, but every game has to end some time. This is real life, good or bad. It's no use worrying about what you can't change."
She didn't reply.
He sighed. "Anyway, I'm going to go look ahead, see if I can't catch up with the plant and the robot. I'll be back in a bit."
During his storage in the SCP facility, Lloyd was periodically interrogated. It was, for them, a relatively simple process. Two copies of the same 700-page hardcover book were printed; initially, they were identical.
"The plain, white room measured five meters by five meters. There were no doors or windows, but the air never got stale or stagnant. Other than a display set into one wall, two comfortable beige recliners facing it, and a small table between them, it was entirely empty. In one chair, a nondescript, middle-aged man sat, frozen in time. He would awaken a few seconds before any other being entered the room, and, when conscious, he was capable of calling a great number of items into existence. These items would not survive outside the room, but they were as real as the rest of it while they were there. He possessed a near-perfect knowledge of Earth circa 2009, able to recall anything from world history to modern culture.
The display on the wall, although its mechanism was unknown, would somehow change to reflect the page number of the novel it occupied. It currently displayed the number one, as well as the percentage of pages passed (0.14%).
Were anyone to enter the room, the man would greet them by name, offer them a seat, and propose an exchange of information. For every question the visitor answered, the man would return the favour to the best of his ability."
-The Fifth Interview, Dr. Werrington.
The remaining 699 pages were blank. One copy was stored in the cabinet, and the other went through the procedure to transfer Lloyd into it. Lloyd was reluctant at first, but he quickly came to see the value in the data the man provided, accepting the offer almost jovially in later interviews. (He rationalized this to himself as a chance to buck anyone's preconceptions of him as chaotic-neutral, actively ignoring the inherent paradoxicality of such an act.)
In one of the earlier interviews, the man had asked him what motivated him, and Lloyd outlined his desire to shake up the otherwise monotonous lives of most characters. For his next question, though, the man asked again, "why?"
At this, Lloyd was stumped. He tried a few lines of thought, failed, and eventually settled on saying, "It's who I am; it's what I do."
While he waited for Karen to come back to her senses, he thought over it again. Now, he had even less of an idea what would motivate him. Here, there wasn't a set plot to throw off, so his primary goal was meaningless.
"No," he said, murmuring to himself, "not entirely. The Monitor knows how he wants this all to go down. He's the closest thing to an author there is here. I can still do my best to rock his boat."
Next to him, Karen sat up, clearly in pain. There was a bit of a cut on her arm, but it wasn't serious. She was probably fairly sore, he guessed. Casually, he asked, "you in one piece?"
After a brief exchange, she curled up into a ball and turned away, telling him to leave her alone.
He considered this for a moment. "Listen," he said, "you were playing a game. That's great and all, but every game has to end some time. This is real life, good or bad. It's no use worrying about what you can't change."
She didn't reply.
He sighed. "Anyway, I'm going to go look ahead, see if I can't catch up with the plant and the robot. I'll be back in a bit."