ArchivedLogs:Fabric and Fabrication

Fabric and Fabrication
Dramatis Personae Anole, Isra, Lyric	2013-09-21 Teacher and students talk fabrication.
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/. Saturday morning around the school is a lazy sort of time. A few students gone home for the weekend, many indulging in the chance to sleep in late. Some out on the grounds, enjoying the lingering pleasant weather on the last day of summer. The workshop at this hour is nearly empty, though one small figure is tucked away in the fabric arts section, a steady buzzing drone coming from the sewing machine she is perched at. Lyric is dressed in loose-fitting blue cotton pants, inlaid at the bottom with mirrorwork set into detailed embroidery; her top is long-sleeved, pale white with a matching scarf wrapped over her extravagant poof of curls. Her eyes are focused down on her project, a panel of green fabric moving beneath the needle of the sewing machine. Isra sweeps into the workshop with a laptop bag slung over one shoulder, a NASA travel mug in hand, a tablet tucked in the crook of one elbow, and a wad of gauze taped to the crook of the other. She wears a loose, flowing linen dress and a royal purple shawl and a purple belt--sitting loosely on her inhuman hips--with two black fabric pouches embroidered in gold. Her low, stalking gait bespeaks agitation, as does the rapidly swishing tail. She heads directly for the Rapid Prototyping Lab and starts setting up her computer, sipping from the mug compulsively every few keystrokes. One of the 3D printers kicks to life, and Isra straightens up, green eyes tracking the movement of the machine's parts. Then, sucking in a deep breath, she leaves her project to print and wanders back across the workshop, still carrying tablet and mug. She gives the equipment lockers a cursory inspection as she passes, then heads to Lyric's workstation, inclining her head in greeting as she studies the teenager's work. There's another student creeping into the workshop, shortly after Isra's arrival. Anole is quiet, not sweeping in so much as slinking, green eyes huge and wide as he skirts the periphery of the room. He is dressed drably, ratty sneakers full of holes, faded fraying jeans, an oversized Brooklyn Dodgers t-shirt that hangs too big on his small frame. He looks over Lyric and Isra quietly, but drifts down towards the 3D printer Isra has turned on, stopping by it to examine its movement with intent curiosity. Lyric finishes her stitching till the end of the current line she is working on, looking up only once she has stopped the machine to give Isra a bright smile. Her eyes skip over Isra's clothing, expression lighting warmer in appreciation of the purple, but then her brows knit into a deeper furrow. She points to Isra's swishing tail, forefinger flicking back and forth in mimicry of its twitching. She tips a questioning glance up at the teacher, head canting to one side. Only after this do her eyes shift briefly past Isra towards the sight of motion at the room's periphery; her smile reappears when she looks at Anole. Her fingers curl in a small wave, and then beckon the other student closer. It would be hard to tell as of yet what the printer is fabricating, but the image on the screen of Isra's laptop beside it looks like a rotating socket of some sort, and the project name is 'XSAC Telescope Mount Prototype Model v.2.3.5'. "I have a--" She winces, then starts again in a whisper, "I have a sore throat, and it hurts to speak. Not contagious, though. What are you working on?" Then, glancing at Anole, she takes the stylus from its bracket on her tablet's case and scrawls something on the screen. This done, she flips the tablet around to display, in large black text on a white ground 'Good day. I am not here to chaperone you, but if you require help, please let me know.' Anole freezes when he is noticed, eyes going even wider as he stares back at the others. He moves again slowly, when Lyric smiles, returning the smile briefly and tentatively. He glances back for brief moment to the printer, but then skirts his way over towards Lyric's table. He doesn't get /too/ close, pausing at a distance to read Isra's tablet. "Help?" He sounds uncertain about this. "I don't actually know what most of this is. Um -- what are you making?" This question comes with a shift of glance from the 3D printer to Lyric's cloth; it's hard to tell quite which of the pair he is addressing. Lyric's nose crinkles up at the answer, and reflexively she rubs one fist in a circle over her chest. She leans over nearer Isra's mug, sniffing at it thoughtfully. In answer to the question she picks up a nearby panel of white cloth, standing up to wrap it around her waist in indication, briefly holding up the makeshift skirt before returning the cloth to the table. She points to Isra's printer afterwards, sending it a questioning glance in echo of Anole's voiced inquiry. The contents of Isra's mug, from which steam still rises, smell powerfully herbal and oddly sweet. A trained nose might discern slippery elm bark, licorice root, and horehound leaf. Isra smiles at Anole, kindly expression jarring with sharp canines as she composes her reply on the tablet, 'It is a stand, or a base, for a telescope. Many designs exist, but the Astronomy Club has been working on a new one. A better one.' "As for the equipment," she adds, her whisper raspy and harsh, "/I/ don't even know how to operate most of it." She picks up the mug and takes a long pull on it, then sets it down and writes, 'But, like me, you can always learn.' "How come you're writing on -- is it because of --" Anole's eyes skip up to Lyric, and then back down to the tablet, but he winces with a note of understanding when Isra speaks. "Are you sick? Do you need -- there's probably. Throat drops. Somewhere? -- Did the Astronomy Club /design/ their own -- Bastian's in that, right?" He looks back to the printer, and then back to Lyric. Another small smile curls at his lips when she demonstrates the skirt. "That's useful. I think I should learn. There's just -- /so/ many choices it's hard. To decide. Do you teach astronomy? The twins say you're --" This trails off; he looks down at Lyric's skirt-in-progress instead. "We're in fencing together," he offers to her shyly. "I don't. Remember your name though." Lyric's expression is intent as the other two speak. She nods when Anole mentions fencing, face lighting up in a smile again. She beckons the other teenager closer, patting at the seat beside her and gesturing to the sewing machine indicatively. Her hands clap together in brief delight at Isra's explanation, though, and before she can start on any sewing lessons she is darting over towards the 3D printer to watch it, eagerly. Isra opens her mouth, then closes it again and writes her reply instead. 'Not sick. Dr McCoy thinks it will be fine in a few days.' Then, while she is writing the next bit, she whispers. "Sebastian is quite busy, but he might join us for some meetings." To the inquiry about her teaching specialty, she merely nods and indicates Lyric with one slightly extended wing as she follows the girl to the rapid prototyping lab. When Isra turns the tablet around, the screen is filled with text. 'We went over some popular telescope mounts last week, and the problems inherent to each. This is just a scale model of our latest attempt.' She cocks her head at the students and writes. 'Anything you wanted to see printed?' "Not sick? Then what, I've had a lot of colds that sounds pretty sick." Anole starts to move towards the seat Lyric indicates, but freezes with a widening of his eyes when the girl rabbits off. "Oh -- uh --" He blinks, and then follows after the others, lingering a short distance from the printer. "That's -- really incredible can it make /anything/? Can it make a sword? Can it make a spaceship?" He smiles, brighter and easier this time. "-- can it make another 3D printer?" Lyric keeps an eye on the printer for a moment, her smile stretching brighter and her eyes wider. She peels her gaze away eventually, looking back to the others. Her hands lift, starting to move, but then she scrunches up her face in brief frustration and gestures instead to Isra's tablet, one hand making a writing motion in the air. Isra's pointed ears flatten against her skull, her expression softening. She hands Lyric her tablet and opens a text editor on her laptop, cranking up the font size. Her typing looks both graceful and awkward, the talons of one long-fingered hand striking keys with surprising lightness while the other hand delivers mug to face. Her tail goes returns to rapid, agitated swishing. 'My voice is changing. Like a boy's does during puberty.' Isra punctuates this with a shrug of her wings and a tap of the return key. '3D printers have limitations in terms of size, materials, and so on. A large enough one could make a sword, but whether it'd be a good sword is another question. Space ships and printers are beyond our ability to directly fabricate, but we could make /parts/ for them.' "Puberty but aren't you um old --" Anole starts in confusion, and then flushes a deeper shade of green. "Ohgod I'm sorry I didn't mean -- I just, um, sorry, that was. Rude I shouldn't have. Sorry." He looks down to her swishing tail with a sheepish duck of his head, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "We should 3D print a model of this workshop. With a little model 3D printer in it, printing a model of this workshop." Lyric's eyes widen when Anole says Isra is old, and she presses her hand to her lips for a moment hiding -- perhaps a look of shock, perhaps laughter. She takes Isra's tablet gratefully, fingers flying swiftly over the keyboard. 'How does a voice change? Does it hurt?' comes first, and after this, 'It'd be 3D printers all the way down.' 'Can we make a MODEL spaceship? Many model spaceships? Have model space battles?' 'Do 3D printers reproduce by printing their own children?' 'Maybe I should ask Mister Jackson that one.' Isra laughs, but the sound that comes out resembles the bark of some horror film hell hound, low and grating. She grimaces and drinks her tea while typing, 'I am old, but sometimes bodies have their own ideas.' Return. 'A voice usually changes as the vocal folds expand, causing them to produce lower pitched sound, and, at least in this case, it does hurt.' Smiling at the students' fanciful ideas, Isra holds up a finger and. 'Before you print anything, you need a design.' She indicates the workstation nearby. 'Try Thingiverse.com, but I doubt you will find models of infinitely nested workshops...' She allows a sidelong wink while she taps out the ellipsis. 'Plenty of model spaceships, though! I am sure Mr Jackson will cover voice changes in class. Just maybe not 3D printer reproduction.' Anole's brow wrinkles, and he touches a hand to his throat, fingertips absently poking at it. "Does that -- am I going to -- that doesn't sound fun." His eyes light at the talk of spaceships, though, a newly interested look given to the printer. "Thingiverse," he repeats, and then, "-- But you can make your /own/ models, right? I mean once you figure out how to make them you can make models for whatever you /want/ --" For a moment he bounces in place, hands clapping together once. "Igottago!" He flashes a quick smile at the other two, then whisks off across the workshop to skitter rapidly for the door. 'It doesn't sound like always good ideas.' Lyric writes this once Isra is done, with a sympathetic wince and a small press of her lips. 'Does that make your throat bigger? Oh maybe I should ask him that too.' A slight flush tints her cheeks darker, though she brightens, too, at the thought of model spaceships. 'I bet', she is starting to write when Anole skitters off; she stifles another laugh at this, watching him go. 'Oh he IS so lizardy!' Her expression looks kind of delighted, with this. Isra's smile broadens into a toothy grin. She rises higher onto her toes as if she would call after the boy, but immediately thinks better of it. Shaking her head, she types. 'Generally, yes. As for me, I do not know.' Her fingers hesitate over the last phase. 'I cannot wait to see what manner of designs he has in mind. I make models, but they never turn out very visually interesting.' This with a not-displeased nod at the incipient object in the 3D printer. 'I would be terrible at making clothes. Do you make your own patterns?' Her free hand gestures in the direction of Lyric's project. 'Maybe we could work with the art class. Make PRETTY telescopes.' Lyric's eyes widen noticeably at Isra's toothy smile, though she seems more /impressed/ with the fangs than alarmed by them, baring her own teeth thoughfully for a moment. 'Something excellent I bet. People around here are always making neat things.' She follows the path of Isra's gesture, looking over towards her half-finished skirt. Her head shakes quickly, nose wrinkling up. 'Not yet. I'm only learning. My dad taught me sort of basics but this term I'm taking the class. I finished my homework so I'm trying a new pattern I got it online. Why would you be terrible, have you tried learning? Do you want to try? It's probably useful, knowing how. Taylor took the class before because shirts are hard when you have more limbs.' Isra cants her head, wrinkling brows slightly. 'It is not common consider aesthetics when constructing telescopes, but why not? That way it would not be an eyesore out on the lawn when in use.' She glances down at her dress and snickers. 'I am not very creative, but sewing would be an immensely useful skill for accommodating extra limbs.' Her wings mantle slightly, then fold against her back. 'You look like you are doing quite well already, so early in the semester. Maybe I should take that class, too!' 'Maybe not common but you can make ANYTHING pretty.' Lyric looks down at Isra's dress, too, her own smile bright. 'You already have so many pretty clothes though. But now you could make pretty clothes that fit YOU right. Here look I can show you how to use the sewing machine!' She gives Isra back her tablet, reaching for Isra's hand instead to tug her off towards the sewing machine as well, apparently keen on starting Lesson #1 /right now/. Isra accepts the tablet back, blinks a few times, then haltingly brings the tips of her fingers to her chin before pulling them away again. Perhaps uncertain of her recall, she mouths "Thank you" as well before taking the girl's hand and following her back over to the sewing machines.