ArchivedLogs:Collecting Data

Collecting Data
Dramatis Personae Micah, Doug, Sage	31 January 2014 Part of the Morpheus TP.
Location <NYC> Home - Greenwich Village
Nestled into the heart of the Village, Home is an unobtrusive place, with an unobtrusive name to match. A nondescript storefront opens up into an equally nondescript cafe, plain tiled floors, an assortment of veneered tables with plain wooden chairs or booths with cracking vinyl benches. What it /does/ have to recommend it is the food, hearty solid breakfast and brunch served twenty-four hours a day, with a wide variety of menu to cater to specialized diets as well. Well-known to locals and little frequented by tourists, its friendly serving staff tend to remember their regulars, giving the place a warm feel that lives up to its name. It has been a little warmer, a little sunnier, but still /January/ in New York. The sun setting means it's cold again, but not quite frigid. As such, Micah is /only/ in one layer of winter gear as he makes his way into the diner: bright orange Jayne hat with almost-matching long candy-corn striped scarf, green gradient gloves, olive puffy coat, and hiking boots with faded jeans showing beneath. He swipes his hat off once he's indoors, stuffing his gloves inside it before pushing them into a pocket. Unwinding the scarf, it finds its way (mostly) into the opposite pocket. With hat-tousled hair and a warm smile, Micah greets the hostess, "Evenin'. Two...table or booth's fine, whichever's open first." He gives a glance over the mostly-full dining area at this. "Figure it'd cut whatever wait time we might end up with," he explains to Doug as an aside. Used to the cold, Doug is equally dressed down as he enters the cafe behind Micah. In jeans and boots, he's got a thick navy peacoat, open to reveal a long-sleeved t-shirt in faded blue with a TARDIS on the chest rendered like Van Gogh's 'Starry Night'. He doesn't have a scarf, but he's pulling off a green tobaggan with a yellow Tri-Force symbol as he steps up beside the redhead. "Good idea," he says, looking over the busy dining room, and then back at the door. "I didn't think it would be this busy," he says, wrinkling his nose. "I guess it /is/ Friday night, though." Sage slowly enters a few moments behind them, red tinted glasses over her eyes. A quick glance over the room, and she's heading towards Micah, herself not dressed as warm as the others. XS jacket, sweatpants, and shoes make up her outfit, though the colors don't match at all. "Micah Holland-Zedner. Hello." Sage's voice is calm, robotic, as usual, as she turns towards Doug, a tip of a head. "We have not met. Hello. What is the wait time?" And then she's taking another quick glance around before just. staring. And, oh, one more thing. "ATHENA, play Playlist 6." "It /is/ Friday," Micah confirms with a little crinkle of his nose, thinking about where most of his household is spending their evening. "An' it's 'round a mealtime. S'just general restaurant-busy. Wait's usually not /too/ long 'round here, even when they're hoppin', account of the service is quick an' diner food usually cooks up pretty fast, too." Micah steps aside to claim a spot of wall to lean against while they wait. "Oh, hello," he replies to the woman, though the slight squint of his eyes might be recognised as him trying to place her face. "They said could be 10 minutes, could be 20. Depends how fast folks shift outta the tables. Apologies...you've got my name but I haven't quite found yours yet..." "I don't think I've been in here before," Doug says, nodding at Micah's assessment of the business and inhaling deeply. "Smells good, though." His stomach agrees, apparently, as it growls audibly and gets a blush out of the blonde. When the woman addresses them, he knits his brow briefly, and glances at Micah for confirmation that this is someone he knows. Which he clearly doesn't, so Doug looks a little confused as he nods his head politely. "I'm Doug," he says, and motions at the tables. "Doesn't look like it'll be terribly long," he says. "I see checks on tables." "I am Sage. I am a colleague of Jackson's. We have met." Sage says calmly, turning around to show the XS logo on her jacket before turning back. "However, I can understand why you would not remember me seeing as we only met briefly and I did not tell you my name as I was late for an event. Nor did I truly talk to you, as we just passed each other, but to me, that qualifies as meeting." She then turns to Doug, a tip of the head. "Hello Doug. It is a pleasure to meet you." And then, back to Micah, in a flash. "This is a very odd coincidence seeing as myself and Jackson were talking about you this morning before class." There's no malice or humour from this, just fact. "Though, things like this happen in life, I suppose." "Apologies again for the failure of memory, then. Jax's got a /lotta/ colleagues, so I sometimes have trouble keepin' straight the ones I ain't really talked to yet." Micah bobs his head into a shallow nod of a bow with the apology. "Sage. I'll remember after this'n." The mention of Micah being a topic of recent conversation brings a rosy pink colour to his cheeks. "Ohgosh, I guess...he talks 'bout me at folks kinda a lot, I'm given t'understand." His eyebrows loft slightly at Doug. "How've y'managed /not/ t'come here? S'kinda a favourite of a few folks. Hive an' Dusk an' Lucien, at least. Used t'be I pretty much just came here Sundays with Dusk, but it kinda became my default place after the whole...news...thing. Folks here known me since before. An' they're friendly t'people with special abilities, so it always seemed least likely I'd run into trouble here." "Micah is Jax's favorite subject," Doug says with a grin and a sidelong look at the redhead. "Which is probably as it should be. I probably won't shut up about it, if I ever find someone as good." He watches Sage interestedly, studying her body language and trying to determine her threat level, if there is one. Micah's question gets a roll of his shoulders. "I didn't know about it," he repeats, mouth tugging to one side. "I don't get to this end of the Village all that often, and I don't think anyone's ever invited me before this, so." He shrugs again, and lifts his eyebrows. "Looks like a good place, though." Then he's back to Sage, addressing her. "So, you're a teacher?" he verifies. "'Cause you don't really look like a tattoo artist." If Sage is a threat, she doesn't really show it, having very little body language, though that's probably because she isn't a threat. "We were talking about the recent incidents that have plagued New York lately." This is all she says, so as to not exactly let Doug know what's going on. "Yes, I teach. Computer Science. Degree from Columbia." Sage is not bragging. Facts, once again! "I have never had nor done a tattoo though I know how the process works." She just stands there, a glance at both of them. "I have never eaten here myself. Is the food any good?" Micah's blush finds a brighter shade of red, and brighter yet as Doug keeps talking. Which may or may not have been intended. He rakes a hand through the mess of his auburn hair. "S'good food," he answers both of them at the same time. "Diner food. Glorious if you're a fan of brunch." His brow furrows at the mention of incidents. "New York got another /plague/ goin' on? I ain't heard about this." "I think she meant 'plagued' as in all the crap we've had to deal with," Doug says to Micah, his tone not as confident as his posture, and he tips his head to study the woman more closely. "Not an /actual/ plague. Oh, hey. Computer Science is my field," he says, brightening as he finds a connecting point. "I'm also at Columbia. That's cool." He pauses, his brow furrowing. "And you teach?" Which sounds perhaps like the blonde is looking at the downside of having that particular degree. He shakes it off, though, and leans against the wall next to Micah, still watching Sage carefully. "Do you like it? Teaching?" "No, it seems to be more like what Micah said but less dangerous. So far. It involves dreams. There is the Hug Bank, and this morning I woke up in a Madame Xanadu costume. And I know I am not the only affected." Sage says this calmly and quietly as to not alert others, but then, SUBJECT CHANGE. "Teaching is pleasant though I teach teenagers which is as expected. I also built these." Sage is taking her glasses off, showing them to Doug and Micah, before putting them back on. "Smart computer. Voice commands, her name is ATHENA." "Hm," Micah says in answer to Doug. "But things've been pretty /quiet/ since Jax got released. Good, mostly. Ain't been much I'd go s'far as t'say was /plaguin'/, I mean, outside of baseline New York stuff." When Sage mentions dreams, he finally seems to find some understanding. "Right. That...don't know as I'd call /that/ a plague, either. S'been pretty...innocuous. An' not really s'much affectin' the whole of New York that I've heard. S'far all I know of is two incidents with me an' the one with the kids at the school." Micah's blush ramps up again. "I'd thought...it was me doin' it. For awhile. Um. I mean, s'only so many times y'can meet up with people /for real/ in your dreams an' manifest parts of dreams in the /real/ world 'fore y'start t'doubt your lack-of-special-abilities status. I done had /two/ of the dreams, an' woke up with someone else's dream stuff another time besides. But Joshua checked me out an' said I'm still as plain-vanilla human as ever." The hostess returns to call Micah and Doug to a small booth that has just cleared out, just big enough to seat four comfortably. "Oh...an' we're in the middle of a conversation now. Are y'meetin' someone here, Sage? Or would y'wanna join us?" Micah actually glances at /Doug/ with this question instead of Sage, seeking a by-your-leave on the invitation. "Would keep y'from havin' t'wait longer." Doug seems confused at the correction, and even more confused when Micah seems to know what Sage is talking about. He looks between the two as they talk, his brow furrowing slightly. "That seems...odd," he says finally, since that seems to be a safe assessment. "But yeah. I don't know if it's a plague. So that hug bank thing was in someone's dream?" he verifies, and gives Micah a long, thoughtful look. "Sounds like a dream you might have," he observes, and smiles at Sage. "Micah gives the best hugs. He should be president of the Hug Bank." When Sage presents the glasses, Doug's eyebrows hike, and his fingers twitch as if he might actually be thinking of grabbing them from the woman. "Oh, wow. That's pretty sharp. You /made/ these?" he asks, leaning in to examine them a bit more closely. Which means that he is useless for answering questions about extra people at their dinner. He is, however, up for more tech talk. "I've got an A.I. program I'm working on that's pretty similar," he says. "Voice-responsive and all that. I named mine Warlock, but he just lives in my network at the moment.' "I am not meeting anyone, no. I would be happy to accept your invitation." Sage tips her head in gratitude, before cautiously holding out the glasses for Doug. "Would you like to try her on? I must warn you, she has programmed anti-theft protocols and a specially worded killswitch that only I know which wipes all data and renders her unusuable.". This isn't a threat, just fact. "She runs by name, and predates Google Glass by several months. I can control her by simply saying ATHENA, and then following that with the command. I have considered adding a form of holographic display but I don't believe the technology is viable or truly functional at this point in time.". "Yeah, that an' the people wakin' up in superhero costumes wasn't me, for once." The red starts to creep into Micah's ears and neck at the Hug President comment. He follows along behind the hostess to the booth. The woman snags a third menu from the collection for Sage when it becomes apparent that she will be accompanying the other two. The tech talk promises to go a little over his head so far as computer knowledge is concerned, though the mention of holographic displays not being viable or functional earns a bit of a smirk. Micah scoots into one of the booths, leaving room for the other two to take the outer seat positions, and starts to peruse the menu thoughtfully. "I ususally get omelettes here, but those are kinda a Sunday brunch thing for me." "I don't think I've ever heard of dream things becoming real," Doug says with a wrinkle of his nose. "I wonder how you'd even go about finding out if other people have experienced it beyond the people connected to you." All further thought on that matter is lost, and Doug almost /bounces/ when Sage offers him a chance to try on the glasses. He nods as he reaches for them, grinning widely. "Oh, yeah. I'd love to try them on," he says, taking the glasses with a brush of fingers, and turning them in his hands studiously as he follows Micah to the booth. "Oh, yeah, holograms in this kind of computer would be useless, and distracting," he agrees, sliding them on. "ATHENA," he says carefully, keeping his voice lower than conversation-level. "Access main directories...holy geez. How can you even parse all of this?" Doug's brow furrows over the red-tinted lenses, and his mouth pulls tight in an expression of concentration. "It's all...there's so much...hang on." He dips his head, then, tuning out as he mumbles directives to the computer, occasionally snorting at something amusing. As she hands the glasses to Doug, Sage's fingers cross his, and there's a quick flash on her face of..something. Though she doesn't say anything, as she follows them to the booth. "What exactly are you doing with it? It seems to be amusing you.". And then, there's a brief whisper towards Doug, if he's listening, though Micah can probably hear it too since she's not that good at whispering. "Do not worry, your secret, if it is one, is safe with me." And then she's turning to Micah, her eyes, which are usually obscured, a beautiful bright blue. "I actually wanted to run a theory by you, Micah. Since Doug seems to be wrapped up in my device, well..from what I can tell, though I do not believe you to be the source, I have the theory that you might be a catalyst. Someone, or something, may be using you as an access point to spread the dreams. You're associated with the school plus everyone else that I am aware is affected. I do not mean to be rude, it is just that I would hope for a cause behind this to be found before nightmares start coming to life as well." "I hadn't, either. But I hadn't heard of a /lotta/ things 'til I started makin' friends up here. Folks got some strange an' interestin' capabilities is all. I'm assumin' that's what it is, 'cause otherwise it's gotta be...just, magic. An' I ain't had no evidence of /that/ kinda thing happenin' before, either." Micah's fingers drum against the menu, his eyes still moving over it. "Oh...well, that's as good a theory as any, Sage. S'just that...I wouldn't really /know/ if it /were/ happenin' t'anyone I don't know. Unless it were somethin' else big an' public like the hug bank. Ain't likely for strangers t'seek me out an' tell me about their stuff-manifestin' dreams." He shrugs a little helplessly. "I was concerned about that m'self. The first dream that manifested things for me...it /was/ a nightmare t'start out. But that...all shifted into happier things. All the dreams I've heard of so far's been...good. Mostly pleasant. Silly, even. I'm kinda goin' on the hope that it'll stay that way." His teeth meet with his lower lip briefly. "I /do/ wanna find out what's causin' it. An' sooner rather than later. I got reasons I /need/ t'know how it works an' if it can happen on purpose. The connectin' people in dreams part." Doug looks up when Sage whispers to him, and he frowns a bit. "I don't know that I have any big secret," he says, the muscles around his eyes shifting as he works the computer and talks. "But thanks, I guess." He offers a friendly smile, then turns around to find the security camera and give it a wide smile and a thumbs up. "I am accessing my work IM to text this hot guy at work I eat lunch with," he says. "He didn't believe me about the glasses, so I grabbed a quick picture off the security feed using the wifi to prove it." He eases the glasses from his nose, and looks at them admiringly. "Those are truly incredible. And ATHENA is wonderful. Very helpful." When Sage has the glasses again, he reaches for his menu, wrinkling his nose at Micah's comments. "I think you've got the best reasons for knowing stuff like that," he opines, looking over the selections. "But yeah. Better to find out what's going on while it's still pleasant. God knows how long /that/ will last." Taking the glasses, she puts them back, looking through the feed...and pausing. Just a pause in conversation, as she looks towards Doug. "I do have one question, though. How did you delete the feeds? That command is also rather sensitive and only I know it, so." No aggression at all. Just pure curiosity. And then she's looking down the menu, whilst still talking. "I assume that there is a way to tell who is truly there and who is a dreamt part. For example, I had no recognition of why I was in the costume, and I did not share the dream. I also believe who you are sharing the dream with must be someone very emotionally attached to you; someone you would like to see. I do not believe every one of these supernatural dreams is a connected one, but most seem to be." Micah arches an eyebrow at the ongoing talk of secrets, but doesn't ask...it's /secret/, after all. "It /feels/ dif'rent. When someone is there. They feel real. Dream people...feel like dreams do. They're not as whole or as independent or as.../there/." He shrugs again at the hypothesis of who shares dreams. "I couldn't say. Sample size is too small. All the folks I know who've shared so far have at least been good friends, though. S'as valid a theory as any, or could be a coincidence." Finally, he sets his menu back on the table. "I'm in the mood for sweet. Like, terrible dessert-level sweet. Thinkin' chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries an' whipped cream an' a hot cocoa." Doug's lip twitch in a half-smile at the question, and he scans the menu. "Oh, was it sensitive?" he asks, in a mild sort of voice. "Sorry about that. Sometimes computers just respond really well to me." He lifts a shoulder, and looks up as Micah explains the difference in dream people and the real ones. "Huh. I guess that's true. Most of the people in my dreams are kind of shadowy, and not all there. Most of the time, anyway." He looks over the table at Sage, and tips his head. "Are you collecting data on it, then? Seems kind of a daunting sort of thing to investigate." He grins at Micah's choice, and nods. "I'm having the banana waffles with eggs and hash browns," he says. "All the hash browns. And maybe bacon." "Chicken and waffles." This is all Sage has to say on the meal portion, before quickly swapping back to reply to Doug. "So that is your ability. Fascinating." There's a calm tone, a slight hint of curiosity in it. She doesn't mean to spoil it like that right there, she just speaks her mind. "I am trying to figure out what's happening, and whether this should be treated on the scale of the last plague. Buildings are one thing, what if this ability affected a warlord or a murderer? They could manifest something that could harm many people, which I hope does not happen." SUBJECT CHANGE! "How are their hash browns here? I might have some of those as well." Micah chuckles at Doug's mention of computers responding well to him. "Collectin' data in that I've been in two out of three instances that I know of, an' asked 'round quite a bit about the third. Like I said, I wanna know how it works. Or /who/ is doin' it. As quickly as possible." There is a brief, easily missed clouding of Micah's features at the mention of murderer-dreams manifesting things to harm people. "Who's t'say they wouldn't dream of puppies an' hugs, too? I don't think y'get t'/choose/ what y'dream or what comes out of 'em, either." He nods at the choice of hash browns. "I've yet t'have anythin' here I don't like, but they're especially good with eggs'n potatoes." Their waitress arrives to take orders once that universal table-is-ready sign of people putting down menus is registered. She scribbles next to nothing on her order ticket as each person lists off their desired items, then wanders back toward the kitchen. Doug grins at Sage. "It's a little more complicated than that," he says to her assessment, and closes one eye slowly. "But that's part of it." He leans back in his seat, fishing out his phone when it quacks at him and reading the text there with a half-smile. Then he's sending one back just as quickly and re-pocketing his phone. "I'm not sure puppies and hugs are the kind of good dreams that the criminal element has," he says. "At least, not the ones who are truly psychotically evil. Of if they do, it's probably not in the same way you and I would." When the waitress comes for their order, he lets it drop until she's gone. Then he looks at Sage, tipping his head. "So, how are you going to find other people who've had the same phenomena happen to them? Craigslist?" "I will not intrude. Everyone has to have their secret." Sage says this calmly, tipping her head as well at Doug. "A psychopath or sociopath is unlikely to dream about either of those. And even if they would, there is still the chance that dreams of others would cause harmful effects." At Doug's inquiry, Sage tips her head. "No, Craigslist is an awful way to find any information on this and should be avoided unless you are looking to buy or sell items. I will lie in wait for more incidents and see their connections. Hopefully something is figured out before a disaster occurs." And, then, subject change. "The waitress did not write enough down to fill our orders. How does she expect to relay it to the cooks along with her other orders?" "Well, y'didn't say sociopath the first time. Y'just said murderer. S'a dif'rent thing altogether. I dunno. Chances of that don't seem too high. Ain't like every third person on the street's a sociopath. S'a pretty rare condition." Micah just shakes his head with a bemused expression at the thought of asking about such things on...any kind of open forum, really. Much less Craigslist. "Diners have a remarkable amount of shorthand. I'm sure she got what she needed. Trust me, I've yet t'be disappointed by the food or the service here."