ArchivedLogs:(Re)Building Bridges

(Re)Building Bridges
Dramatis Personae Kisha, Anna
In Absentia	2013-11-10 Anna would risk zombies for violin repairs. (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <XS> Workshop
A large barn-like building situated at the far end of the gardens from the mansion proper, this makerspace functions as a classroom for many of the more hands-on classes. An expanse of workshop space, it is subdivided into smaller segments for the different types of activities: Woodshop, Welding shop, Machine shop, Electronics, Bike shop, Screen Printing and Photography, Fabric Arts, and the Rapid Prototyping Lab with a trio of 3D printers. The space comes complete with a large host of tools available for use, although many of the more dangerous require prior clearance from administration to use -- students with appropriate clearance to use them can gain access to locked equipment with their student IDs. From sanders to MIG/TIG welders to soldering stations to industrial sewing machines to its own darkroom, though, this space is well equipped for teaching students how to /make/. With no immediate end in sight to the zombie plague Kisha has stepped up the security for the school workshop. A pair of blimp drones circle overhead and there are cameras up by each of the doors. The sounds of science from within are muted, but show no signs of stopping at any time day or night. That's -- 'strange' might be the first impulse, but considering how things have been recently, it would be harder to find something that didn't count as strange. What it actually is is mildly unexpected; Anna, who has not actually ever tried to get into the workshop /before/, doesn't quite seem to know how to handle the (probably increased) patrol measures. She stops before the door and waits to try to open it, solemnly informing the nearest camera, "I'm not infected," in case that's the password. From inside the sounds of work stop. "Who're you?" comes the voice of Kisha from a cheap speaker mounted by the camera. Both of the 'security' measures seem like very recent edition to the building. "And you do know the virus is linguistic right? You should avoid talking at all costs. Unless you're cheating, which I strongly recommend." There is a few moments before she grudgingly adds. "The door is open, I'm not allowed to lock it unless zombies are outside." "Anna Arceneaux," she identifies herself, and pointedly does /not/ apologize even if it's her normal instinct to. Instead she simply nods, smiles a little -- it's hesitant and awkward, but standing in for a 'thank you'; anyone who's really seen her around has probably figured by now that not talking is actually a specialty -- and leans against the door to open it, quickly step inside and shut it behind her. Not that there are any zombies outside, but no one's taking any chances. The first thing anyone coming through the door will see is Bob. Bob is big tracked drone about the size of a riding lawn mower with a mechanical arm on top. Kisha is dressed in her usual black pants & t-shirt combination, although she's getting rather dirty even by her standards. Topping her outfit off is an old fashioned aviators cap and goggles. "What brings you to my little oasis of safety?" she wonders. "Holding up okay in the current crisis?" It might take a few moments to notice, but her speech is coming from a speaker pinned to her t-shirt. Bob also gets a little bit of a surprised smile out of Anna, who is holding a violin case in the hand she didn't use to open the door. In response to Kisha's first question, the case gets held up -- soon she'll find the appropriate surface to pt it down and open it, and thus reveal the problem that needs to be repaired. Before she's attempted to try to answer the second, though, she notes the speaker and her eyebrows notably raise. "How are you --?" comes out instead of an actual answer, though her hesitance and drawn expression in general may indicate that she is not particularly okay. "I'm cheating," Kisha says, matter-of-factly. "My hat is connected to a small computer with a speach emulator installed. It's a basic precaution, but I hope it should render me immune to the virus." Inside the room the work benches have been pushed into a rough rampart and are piled high with assorted tools. The teenage inventor blinks "You walked around outside during a zombie outbreak because of a violin?" First, Anna nods, and then -- Anna pauses, at a loss for how to continue without speaking. She's mostly managed out of the fact that no one has been asking her direct questions, apparently; at this point she starts to shake her head and gives in and explains, careful with her word choices. "It is what's been keeping me sane. Playing. When I have nothing else to do," which is always, one might assume, "and the bridge popped." She rolls her eyes while simultaneously finishing that headshake: go figure, her luck. "Needs to be filed, and re-glued." Kisha tilts her head. "I'd recommend downloading a text reader application for your school smartphone," she suggests. "Have you ever repaired a violin before? I could give it a go if you haven't although woodwork isn't my primary field of expertise. I think we have the right tools, but I am unsure if there is a suitable wood glue." Anna nods again -- this time it's more in the affirmative, and she sets the case down to pull her phone out of her pocket. What she does instead of trying to download something -- or speak -- is actually tap into the texting function, 'A few times. Just this one, but that should be sufficient. Gorilla glue usually works,' then extend the phone to the other girl. Gorilla is admittedly a brand, but glue of that ilk is pretty common. And then she adds, 'I like the hat.' Kisha grins. "Thanks. I made it mostly by myself, although I had a little help from Tony Stark on the design of the mechanism." Without looking she reaches for one of the tool piles. "I think there's a file in here which you can use. Just promise you'll be careful with the amount of noise you make when you're playing. In a lot of zombie films they're attracted by sound." Oh, something Anna /can/ answer without talking! Or without words at all and having to resort to quick thumb-typing. Taking the violin out of the case, Anna figures she can just display it to someone so tech-inclined -- so, holding it up by its neck she points at the pickup on the bottom with a headphone slot in it. It is a fully wooden instrument, obviously playable acoustically, but has had electric components added to it ... including a mute on the strings so that the sound is only passed through the headphones as in a traditional electric instrument. "Easy enough," she does whisper. The instrument gets a quick loving smile, for all that its strings are hanging lamely because it has no bridge. Kisha aaaaaaaahs. "That's smart," she admits. "Just... Make sure you don't wear both earphones otherwise you won't hear danger coming." After digging around she pulls out a small file. "I think this should be about right, I was using it to file down the edges of a propellor." Her head tilts. "Would it be rude to ask what your ability is? Just want to be sure I'm aware of anything potentially useful in the current situation." Anna had evidently not thought of that, as her face falls a little bit when Kisha points out the dangers of covering both ears. Even if she sometimes plays in small, isolated areas in the dorm like a closet ... that surely makes it worse. The file gets a smile, as she takes it and pulls the slightly jagged-edged bridge out of her pocket -- and then her face falls slightly as she is faced with that final question, her normal response being one of those dangerous words. File is placed under arm, as she goes back to the type-with-phone method to relay, 'Hydrokinesis. Don't think it's rude here; not a secret.' "Interesting. Can you make water blades?" Kisha asks with a curious look on her face. As the conversation goes on it becomes apparant that her speaker voice seems void of emotion (even more so than her regular voice). "Personally I'm good with machines. I don't think it really has a proper name. Oh and I don't sleep anymore." Anna seems stuck for a moment on trying to parse that. Not. Sleeping. Her expression isn't clear as to whether her reaction is horror or jealousy, though. Instead she nods at the first question -- a clear 'yes' -- before adding in phone-type, 'I'm not very good yet.' Which does not mean that she /can't/ do! There's a bit of frustration on not having a third arm, but at least her jacket has a chest pocket so she can drop the phone in it and file at the bridge when not trying to 'talk.' Kisha glances at some plastic water barrels over in the corner and cringes. "Maybe I need to relocate my water stockpile," she ponders. "Although despite the quarantine it seems like the utilities have remained on. Which is a plus compared with most zombie fiction. Usually at this stage we'd be drinking rain water and eating cold canned food." File file file, pause, type type type: 'I won't harm it if you're concerned,' Anna "says," then actually laughs a little bit at the comparison to zombie fiction. At least she's not the only one who thinks that way? 'Purifying I am good at. Could make the rainwater drinkable. No help with the canned food.' And back to the filing! The bridge is actually looking pretty not-jagged, at this point. /Almost/ to the point of being usable. Kisha winces. "I was more worried about if you come back as a zombie," she admits. "You could potentially reach the water through the wall and cut your way in. But anyway cooking shouldn't be a huge problem now. We've got some solar panels in here and I've been able to get everything I'd need to make them work. So I'll have electricity. Water purification isn't too hard either with the right equipment, you can use sunlight to evaporate the water and recondense it back into liquid for drinking." Anna's general interest in the idea of coming back a zombie is reflected in how the filing quickly becomes more intense, sharper, faster for a moment before she catches herself and stops, blowing on the edge of the bridge to dislodge the last of the wood dust. Now triumphant, she holds it up to demonstrate that that stage of the repair is complete, and then -- back to typing, before the hunt for glue. 'Apologies. About that. But I doubt I would be strong enough. Would a zombie even be that intelligent?' Nobody wants to think about themselves turning into zombies, but /abstractly/ that's a suitable question, no? Kisha ponders the question, her eyes flicking from side to side. "There isn't enough detail to say and I'm not even entirely sure the non-physical powers would remain active," she muses. "Hmmm. Well, I can't plan for every situation but it doesn't take much time and effort to relocate the barrels. So it can't hurt! Did... uhm... It's probably rude of me to ask but... Do you have family in the region?" At least Kisha had something of an answer, which Anna hadn't even been expecting -- some people are just better experts in the field of zombie preparedness than others, though. She's listening with interest while casting about for glue -- looking in the general wood-stuff-laden areas where one might find glue, at least, and not cast off in entirely the wrong direction -- before glancing over her shoulder and shaking her head -- in the negative, in this case. It's back to the phone to clarify, 'I'm from Canada,' without giving any clarifying statement as to /where/, but unless the region in question is the Eastern seaboard of the entire continent: still no. "Phew. I was worried for a moment that you had relatives in New York," Kisha says with a look of relief. "I'm from Detroit personally. Although I'm not entirely sure I would mind if I did have relatives in the city... They've hardly been very supportive of me since my mutation manifested. Also I think school rumour has it I'm a heartless bitch. They're probably not far off the mark either." Anna's nodding along as she uncovers the glue from a collection of woodshop-like-items is sympathetic in motion and expression both, and she takes a few careful steps back over -- giving another nod to Bob -- as she clicks back onto the phone, 'You could say the same of my family and of me, as I rarely speak to anyone.' No surprises, as a fellow student had no idea who she was until this conversation. Kisha giggles, a sound which comes from her mouth rather than the speaker. "Bob there won't respond to you. It's entirely manually controlled, nothing smart about it. But it is useful for providing security and if things get really bad I could remote pilot it on a foraging trip." "Neat," actually comes out of Anna's mouth unthinking; a lot of her attention is now on carefully applying glue to the edge of the bridge, a job that's very difficult because of having to repeatedly stop, wipe it off and start over ... due to the fact it's dripping over the edge onto the rest of the wood, and she can't have her instrument looking sloppy like that. She lets out a quiet sigh once she realizes she's spoken again: it's a judgmental sigh along with a judgmental glare at her hands. Bad self. Kisha drums her fingers against the workbench. "The main concern is getting him through normal doors," she decides. "In theory because it's based on a bomb disposal robot it should be able to get inside anywhere a bomb could be. But I've never tested it and I could have got the dimensions wrong. But anyway have you been playing the violin a long time?" Another nod; Anna starts to hold up fingers as a way to indicate years and -- realizes she does not have enough fingers and rapidly gives up. Can't do it on one hand, can't even do it on two -- "Twelve years," comes out aloud, because she is still battling with glue. At least it is finally starting to cooperate with her, and the number of ridiculous faces she's making at it is lowering. Kisha nods. "Wow, I can cheat slightly with my powers. But at best I can manage to play like a total beginner who can't read sheet music... Because well I /am/. I'm not really very interested in music myself, but I appreciate the dedication needed to reach that level." Anna can't help herself; she laughs, even if it may be something she was raised to think of as rude. "Probably better than /that/," she says aloud, the inflection not about to come through via the phone ... that and she's attempting to hold the bridge on to the violin body so that it actually sets properly. "Beginner who has held the instrument a few times before? Also thank you," is said slowly and cautiously, as she's still checking over her words. Just in case. Kisha shrugs. "I can pick up any musical instroment and make it produce sounds," she explains. "Just like I can use pretty much any other gadget. But it doesn't give me any sense of musical timing, so it's just noise that com." She chews at her lip, then adds "In theory I could learn but I don't honestly feel it'd be worth my time. I'm far too interested in science." "Both include math." Anna is now staring down the bridge and attempting to will it to dry faster so she can stop /talking/ -- it's not working. It is definitely not setting any faster. "If only I had learned to pull the liquid from glue, make it set quicker," she mutters, and the violin does not say anything in response. Bobs fingers flex with a whirring sound, then the arm reaches for a length of metal and places it on Kisha's work bench. "In theory I could pick it up yes," she concedes. "But I'm already learning programming and taking the advanced placement classes for every science I could take. I'm not sure reading sheet music will advance my goals very much." "Probably not. Don't know when it will come in common, though," Anna is still /looking/ at the bridge, but at least she is talking loud enough it's obvious she's speaking to Kisha and not the instrument, much as there is that perpetual battle of 'don't say anything' going on inside her mind. Both because talking can lead to /death/ and because she is still in that strange place of not being sure if she knows people well enough to talk to them yet. "Going to be the next Stark, oua?" Kisha scratches her head, causing the robot hand to wiggle around. "Oops. Forgot I had the controls active," she mutters. "Maybe, I could also go for being the next Doctor Doom. His robotics technology is superb and he rules a country. There's a lot to be said for having absolute power and the resources a nation can provide." "I will settle for being little known, but as of now I have no doubt in /your/ skill," says Anna, holding back another laugh as the robot responds to Kisha's movements; the technology clearly fascinates her but she has to keep looking down at the bridge to make sure it doesn't shift. The most annoying thing about being a violinist with no luthier ... though she probably does know of one nearby, her interest in leaving the campus to go find him? Yeah, not so much. Kisha tilts her head. "Well. That's nice to hear," she says without a hint of modesty. "At least.. I assume you're not using sarcasm. I find it hard to tell since my power manifested. My working theory is that not sleeping causes some mild side-effects with my emotions." "That makes sense -- I was serious," Anna clarifies, and lets out a long sigh of relief as she pokes at the bridge and it does /not/ reset. It's the sort of thing that continues to break her no-talking resolve; at least there are no zombies in there? "And /finally/ this is finished. Thank you. -- And you, but that was originally me talking to the violin." Who has a name, of course, but it's not the kind of thing she says around new people. "I hope your repairs hold up okay," Kisha says solemnly. "And perhaps when this is all over you could play for the school? People will need something to help them recover from the trauma and lets be fair therapy is a load of bullshit. At least music is enjoyable." Anna /grins/. Someone has just said something she can really connect to. "Oua, I would love to," she blurts, even if the attention isn't likely something she would enjoy -- attention from strangers who have not so much gone out of their way to hear her play. But playing to cheer people up is something she's done nearly as long as she's been alive, and she gravitates to it like a fly to a candle ... only with a less unpleasant outcome. "And they should for at least a little while. One hopes." The bridge gets a pointed dirty look. You better. "The downside will be that getting it fixed professionally maybe tricky," Kisha notes with a scowl. "As there will be quite a few people who are.. no longer with us. And I don't imagine violin repairmen are well equipped to survive a zombie uprising." "I had not found a new luthier yet," is Anna's only saving grace there -- someone she has come to love and be loyal to has not already died, at least. She's laughing a bit to herself, though, at the mental image of luthiers trying to defend themselves from zombies: "They would wave bows like swords. It would not last long." As she lovingly sets her violin back in its case, Kisha gets another smile; it's softer, more genuine than any of the other amused ones -- truly friendly, having dropped off all the aloof attitude Anna came in with. "I appreciate your help, and now will go risk my life to return to my dorm -- good luck," with a nod at her current invention. Kisha waves. "It's New York," she points out dryly. "They probably have shotguns or at the least baseball bats. But still there's a lot of zombies out there... If things ever start going wrong within the main school building try your luck here. I plan on holding this building no matter what happens." She grins, then turns back to her work.