2013-03-10 Plan Nine

It's pretty easy not to watch the clock when you don't have access to a clock, but time gets a little wonky and distorted after a while. Fern knows that it must be a few days, at least, since she heard the commotion, alarms, big bangs, a lot of people running. She's got a better view from her new accommodations, having been moved from the 'hotel room' she awoke in to a cell more like One's in it's construct. Wall of bars, check. Semi comfortable, thin mattress, check. Metal toilet with zero privacy, check.

Think of it as a camping trip, and it's really almost luxury.

Having been left to her own devices, and imagination as no one has given her a clue what's been happening to One, Fern has found her own ways to keep her sanity. She's been practicing her lines for the callback for Shakespeare In The Park (if they've made her miss it, she's going to hunt down Nine herself), pacing the cell. When she's not doing that, she digs up old lines from community theater productions, and even some of the production numbers from the high school musical she was in. She is especially enthusiastic doing the most well known song from  A Chorus Line, 'One'. Irony is a cruel mistress.

She's pacing again now, padding back and forth in bare feet, having abandoned the single sock she had on when she was taken. One's shirt that she wears no longer carries his scent, but it's still reassuring. She recites, loudly (mindful that there is a chance, however slight, that One might hear her voice) "And you went out and bought one too... so never mind." There is a pause, waiting for another actor's lines, before she continues with her own part, "This morning I had a headache... and I wanted to have my coffee, and I dropped an Alka Seltzer in my coffee. I thought for a minute the house was going to blow up."

"No more explosions this week. We absolutely forbid it." Nine moves so quickly and quietly, it's hard to tell when he arrived. He's slouched comfortably against the wall, though, so it's possible that he's been here for some time.

Despite his casual posture, he seems subdued. Resigned. He straightens himself up and moves closer to Fern's cell, going so far as to grab the bars and lean in very close to them. "How are you holding up?" he asks.

The voice gives Fern pause in her recreation of A Hat Full Of Rain, wrapping around her heart and squeezing. She turns to face the clone, another squeeze coming at the face that's so familiar yet so foreign. There's actually a wry smile as she makes a show of patting herself down. "I seem to be fresh out of Alka Seltzer, so I guess you're safe for now."

She watches him come closer before she moves herself, also walking to the bars, one hand coming to clasp gently one bar away from Nine's. The constant thrum of fear that pulses through her has become something she's dealt with, tamping it down until it's only betrayed by the fact that some part of her always remains in motion now. One finger taps lightly as she regards her most visible captor.

"All things considered, I guess I'm alright." Fern's voice is steady and her head tilts. "Been enjoying the show?" She's sure she's been monitored, which is kind of creepy so she doesn't think about it a lot.

Nine's smile is a bare tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it's there. "You're improving," he admits. "As they say, practice makes perfect."

The clone studies Fern unabashedly, staring into her eyes as if he's searching for answers to questions he has yet to ask. His hand snaps out to latch onto her wrist, but not harshly. His grip is just firm enough to hold her in place. "You know you won't be released from this place," he finally says. "After what you've seen, you'll never be willingly let go. You understand, yes?"

Despite the dig about her improvement (she was already excellent, tyvm!), Fern doesn't look away under Nine's scrutiny, letting her eyes hold his. There's no pull away from the grip on her wrist, the first real contact she's had in days. She sighs, closing her eyes, for just a moment letting herself feel the warmth of his skin as One's. But his words bring her back, blue eyes lifting again to find Nine's.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asks. The words are soft, but not weak. More... curious. Resigned, perhaps. "Will you let me see him before you do?"

"Possibly." It's not clear which question Nine is answering. Both, perhaps. "He escaped from his cell. We believe he contacted someone on the outside. He attempted to surrender when he was apprehended, but..." There's a long pause, then a short sigh. "He was badly injured. Again. Extreme measures were taken to repair the damage."

Nine lets go of Fern and slowly withdraws his hand. His eyes widen slightly, and while he remains motionless and expressionless, his gaze flicks up toward the camera as he slips something very small into her palm. When he shakes his head, the movement is so minute that it's almost imperceptible.

A moment later, it's as if it never happened. Nine turns his back on her and shrugs. "At this rate, he won't survive much longer. If he dies, your services will no longer be required. In some ways, it would be simpler if you both disappeared. You understand, yes?"

So that's what the alarms were after all. Nine's words send a chill down Fern's spine, and she rests her forehead against the cold metal of the bars, hand tightening her hold. She holds her breath a moment, trying with all her might to keep herself gathered and face whatever comes with at least some measure of dignity.

Letting the breath go, she looks back up at Nine, her misery plain on her face. When he releases her it's as if there's a physical ripping away. He might be one of her tormentors, but it was human contact. Well, somewhat human? No. She has to believe he's as human as One. She lets go of the bar, her first instinct to reach to him, loathe to give up that simple touch even if it's from him. And there's something in her palm, and her fingers close around it. Fern's frown is hidden with her back to the camera, but she's smart enough to know not to give anything away from his actions.

She understands his words, but again doesn't respond to the question, instead posing her own. "If you are his clone, why are you not more like him? Do you have none of his humanity?"

Nine doesn't turn around. Not right away. "Garbage in, garbage out," he replies. "It's something computer programmers say, meaning that a program only does what it's told to do. Each of us is the result of specific programming. Most of the rest don't even have personalities. They're automatons. Biological machines."

Now the clone spins around to face Fern again. "That's why he's being tortured. For the secret to his individuality. Even my persona is something that's been carefully crafted rather than organically generated. It's a facade designed for the benefit of people like you. If we are to continue to grow and prosper as a species, we must know what he knows. If he won't surrender that information, he can only be considered a dangerous aberration. A ghost in the machine."

With her fingers wrapped tightly around the unknown treasure in her palm, Fern watches Nine carefully, taking in his words. When he turns back, she studies his face, not entirely buying into every word he says. Surely he wasn't programmed to put something in her hand, something the cameras can't see. Or was he? There's no attempt to hide the fact that she's trying to puzzle him out, her frown deep and dark.

"He's not going to give in to torture. You must know that. So how is that a productive means to get him to talk?"

"If asking nicely had gotten the job done, we wouldn't have resorted to harsher measures." Nine snorts and shrugs his broad shoulders. "We had hoped to gain his cooperation one way or another. Some of the others grew overzealous while interrogating him after his escape attempt. The damage was... regrettable."

The clone glances down at Fern's hand, then reaches up to graze his fingertips against his ear, where the tiny earwig-style radio he's always speaking into is tucked securely away. "Time to feed the dogs. We'll talk later. You understand, yes?"

His words are so matter of fact. But they're like a glass of ice water dumped over Fern's heart. Her frown changes, from puzzled to pained, like a melting of her features. "Please... I want to see him." It's a plea, the only quarter she's given willingly. Her breath catches and she swallows down tears, not wanting to show total weakness. But still, it's clearly there despite her struggle.

Despite that, she notes his movement, understanding the meaning. This time she nods, saying meekly, "I understand."

Nine is already leaving. He pauses and turns back again, taking in Fern's tears. He studies her expression for what feels like a very long time. "If you're certain," he says. "But you may not like what you see. Someone will take you to him later. If there's time."

Despite her efforts, the moisture leaves tracks down her cheeks, and Fern looks for anything in Nine's face to give her hope. But the only hope she finds is in her hand. She can only nod to his words before she turns away, crossing immediately to the bed and slumping into it. The young waitress with exceptionally bad luck rolls over to face the wall, pulling into a protective ball, letting the tears come now. But she muffles her sobs with the pillow, and after a while, she regains control.

Only then does she uncurl her fingers, her body wrapped to easily hide her hand, and she looks at the little black earwig in her hand. She's seen more than enough movies to let her mind wander for a minute, imagining putting it in her ear only to have it sprout little black legs that dive into her brain and wrap around, taking control of her. Her fanciful imagination is stomped like a bug, and she barely moves, tucking the device into her ear. It's a chance she doesn't hesitate to take if it can help One and herself.

"I'll contact you soon. Until then, don't respond. If you keep touching your ear, it'll make them suspicious." Already down the hall and nearly out of sight, Nine has reached up to key his own earpiece. "I have a plan. All I need is an opening. For now, just sit tight and be patient."

He's done talking before he rounds the corner and is out of sight, leaving Fern to wait and wonder.