Logs:Viable Primary Economy

Viable Primary Economy
Dramatis Personae Amo, B, Destiny
In Absentia Clout, Punch-Eyes	2024-09-08 "They do seem to have an unfortunately tight grasp on the concept of 'game show'."
Location <MOJ> Times... Square? - Mojoverse
This place is definitely big, and definitely surrounded by Tall Things, and there are definitely large screens all around it (they've all got various images of Mojo flashing on them), and it is also crowded with an odd mix of aliens pretending to be humans pretending to be tourists. It would all be a little overwhelming and a little bit insane if you'd never been to actual Times Square but if you have then maybe they've got some of the vibe almost kind of right, honestly. This is sort of the central hub of what passes for downtown in the Games District, cluttered with a potpourri of stores selling "I ♥️ I ♥️ NY" or "I ♥️ 🌏" merchandise and overpriced junk food from a dazzling array of alien cuisines. Given all the aliens cosplaying games contestant it's oddly a pretty decent place to get lost in the noise for a bit. This place is doing its best impression of the city that never sleeps, but its best impression, as the night wears on and the tourists grow restless waiting for tomorrow's entertainments, is increasingly unhinged. By now maybe that's just par for the course, really. In the center of the square there's a very loud and very colorful reenactment going on of the highlights of the free-for-all that is, like the fracas itself, by turns ludicrous and gory, various parts being played by dubiously consenting aliens in costumes that range from uncannily lifelike to "just a red plasticky visor". Some of the food stands have closed down for the night for lack of supplies, but other, more enterprising food stands, are rushing out to take advantage of the downed... reenactors? Scavenging some of the fallen aliens to fry up fresh tasty new snacks for those still watching. Has B come by any Mojoworld money at any point since arriving here? It's very unlikely, but she has come by a skewer of some unidentifiable spiced meat, which she's gnawing on as she sits tucked behind one of the abandoned snack stands in the dirty, bloodied bottoms of her team uniform. The robotic proprietor that once ran this place has long since been divested of whatever alien tidbits it was selling and, also, been divested of several of its innards as well. A very (very) hacky looking contraption that seems to consist not just of pieces of the robot but added in pieces of a car's onboard computer and a very much Earth cellphone is on the ledge of the stall as well, and as B munches her kebab she is grimacing at a lot of code on the phone screen like it is giving her a bit of a headache. Destiny is perched daintily on the other end of the snack stand's edge, not actually watching the dramatic reenactment though she is nominally facing it. She is not in her team uniform, but the long blue dress she probably arrived in, which explains why it isn't torn and bloodied but doesn't explain why she isn't torn and bloody, considering recent events. Maybe the Brotherhood is just chock full of people who heal fast, one way or another? She has one hand braced against her white cane, the tip of which rests on the pavement(?) that neither of her feet are touching. "This is fascinating. I don't think all of these beings understand the concept of 'acting'." It’s probably entirely luck for how Amo manages to spot B and Destiny amongst the chaos and the bloody reenactment, but either way she’s making her way over, an “I❤️I❤️NY” cap on her head, which has somehow gained her some amount of anonymity, the top of her team uniform and the joggers she first arrived in. She’s torn the sleeves off the uniform top, dried blood staining near the edges of where the sleeves once were. She’s very clearly attempting to avoid looking towards the gruesome display. Once she’s close enough she jerks her chin up in greeting, but as she registers Destiny she quickly adds an “Aye.” To announce her presence. “I think there’s a lotta concepts they don’t understand,” She leans against one of the supports of the abandoned snack stand, and her eyebrows tick upwards impressed at the dismantled robot and B’s hacky set up. “We doin’ our own little reenactment over here?” She gestures vaguely towards the gutted robot with a flutter of her fingers. B's gills flutter once, quick and irritable when Destiny first speaks; both her inner and outer eyelids shutter in rapid succession. From the very pinched look on her face it does not seem like she finds anything fascinating about this, but she tears another chunk of meat off the skewer rather than snap whatever she was about to snap at Destiny. She's swallowing it just in time to instead look up when Amo approaches with pitch-black eyes widened big and the ridge of her forehead hiked. "What?" This is snapped, though her gaze drops a moment later aaalmost like abashed, her voice considerably softer when she speaks again. "I'm, um, not sure -- what this would be -- reenacting, sorry. Did they throw you into some kind of Transformers game or something? I haven't really been watching." Destiny does turn to Amo when she approaches, though she still doesn't look quite at the newcomer. "They do seem to have an unfortunately tight grasp on the concept of 'game show'." She makes a click that might sound condescending or disapproving if her expression were not so blankly serene. "I can only imagine their understanding of Earth technology is more or less as arbitrary as their interior design would suggest. Have you," she asks, suddenly and unnervingly intent on Amo in a way that her gentle smile does not at all offset, "been watching?" Amo seems unbothered by B’s snapping—or if she is she doesn’t show it. She shakes her head, and takes her hat off to run her fingers through her hair, “Nah, s’all good, was just comparing the two. A lot less bloody over here, though.” Her eyes sweep towards the scene, and immediately dart back to focus on the robot—although she seems more so to be looking through it. She blows out a breath in a way that puffs out her cheeks, “Lot less.” She slaps her cap back on. She tilts her head to scan Destiny, and some rocky texturing ripples across the back of her neck, “Sure have. Moral support n’ all that. I bring orange slices for halftime.” She jokes, and shrugs a shoulder with a grimace flickering across her face, “I dunno what ‘game show’ they been watching, but I think they should start binging Family Feud instead. Less Explosions.” "This is a robot. It's like a much fancier vending machine. Those --" B is waving her skewer towards the ongoing raucous show behind them, "are slaves. They're like us, but currently with worse PR. It's not a great comparison." Her sharp teeth flash, taking the last (bloody) chunk of alien meat and tearing it from the skewer. "They've been watching a whole lot of game shows. And action. Romance hasn't seemed to play too well. Reality TV very hit or miss. I know I have been staring at this way too long, though, because I can't seem to figure out what these people do besides watch TV." "I never saw the appeal of TV, personally." Was this a joke? Destiny seems perfectly serious about it. "It does not seem like a viable primary economy, either. But I've been assured this was rather a lot like a certain class of game shows, until that happened." She tips her free hand at the bloodbath none of them is watching. "I suppose that's where the action came in. They have clearly managed to squeeze some kidnapping into the commercial breaks, though maybe they outsource that, as well." Amo swallows, harshly, and she nods in a way that moves her shoulders to, “Was tryin’ to chat with one of’em earlier.” She rubs at her eye with the heel of her hand. Her hand drops back to her side and her eyes idly track B’s teeth for a moment. She shakes her head, then tilts it towards the crowd, and her voice pitches weirdly when she says, “But—Bad PR.” Her shoulders shake out stiffly down to her hands, and the rocky armor ripples down to her finger tips and hangs out there. She tugs at the hem of her shirt, rolling it in her fist and unwinding it repeatedly, thoroughly stretching out the fabric. She glances between Destiny and B briefly, “It’s viable if no one ever leaves here—which, most of them don’t. Apparently.” "Apparently. How often did you take a trip out of our dimension before this?" B's head lifts again, and then pulls back down. Her lips press tight together, gills flattening and slowly once more opening back up. She's refocusing very intently on the screen in front of her, her head shaking. "There's technology here that shouldn't be possible by our understandings of physics. This place shouldn't be --" She cuts herself off with a slow breath. "And you're talking about viable primary economy as if anything Earth taught you about economics can be mapped onto all this. These people are aliens. This place is alien. I don't --" Her mouth closes once more, this time with a clicky-sharp snap of sharp teeth, and she grinds the heel of her hand against one enormous eye as she hunches back over her project. "Many Earth societies have also managed to exist for some time without any apparently viable primary economic activity." Destiny sounds exactly as nonchalant about this as everything else she's said. "But I am not contradicting you. I have relied and continue to rely on your observation. My access here is." She tilts her head as if listening for something. "Somewhat limited. Excuse me." It's hard to tell who she's addressing until she lifts her cane to gently push Amo one step back. "I advise frontal armor." Out in the "Square" the "actor" playing Clout picks up another luckless vending robot from the ruins of its stall and chucks it with a mighty roar. Were they even trying to hit anyone? It's unclear, but the thing is suddenly careening toward the actual Weirdos from Planet Earth. Destiny dismounts the snack stand and lands in a graceful drop stance, cane planted in just the right spot to redirect the course of the tumbling robot at where she's positioned Amo. "More parts, if you require them," she's telling B as she strolls back toward the Brotherhood house, unconcerned about various other projectiles from the fight, which somehow all manage to miss her. Amo’s head is tilting intrigued to get a better look at B’s project, “Isn’t the point of physics that it’s supposed to universal?” Whether this question is rhetorical or not is not made immediately clear, as she’s quickly stepping back as directed, brow ticking downwards as she processes Destiny’s next words. The second she does, the armor on the tips of her fingers blooms upwards, racing in a rippling wave up her arms towards her chest, where more armor has already started forming, “What do you-” Her eyes snap towards the shout, wide, and she’s braces just a moment before the robot is steered solidly into her. She huffs out a short breath on the collision, and quickly grabs at the robot to keep it from careening further. She shakes her head bewildered, standing back up straight, “…How did-” she’s beginning to ask, then she whips around to see where Destiny’s gone, and is left watching her for a little too long as she leaves. Amo shakes her head, again, and pushes the robot out to arms length to inspect it, now thoroughly busted from the collision. “Alright,” She drags it over closer to B’s project by a robotic arm, and lets it drop, “So can I get an explanation on all that?” She gestures vaguely in Destiny’s direction with an armor covered hand, “Or you just as lost as I am?” B is glancing up and subtly bracing at Destiny's warning. She at least seems fairly unsurprised by the sudden chaotic interruption, lips twitching at the abrupt impact. "Thanks," she's calling, kind of perfunctory, to Destiny's departing back. Her head is shaking at Amo's question. Questions? "I've been lost since we got here," she admits, and her voice is softer again, the bite gone out of it. "I think the point of science is that if our hypotheses don't explain what we're seeing we have to form new ones. I'm just..." Her shoulders sag, gills fluttering quick and uneven. "Not used to this much inexplicable at once." Her fingers rub at her eyes again, and she tips her pointy chin towards the broken robot. "Want to give me a hand gutting this?" Amo steals a glance towards B, gaze flickering across her face before returning back down to the robot. She takes a deep breath, and the armor that had rapidly built up slowly begins to fade. Her eyebrows do tick upwards briefly in surprise at her question, and she quickly responds, “Yes, I do.” Her hands flick twice down at her side, before she kneels down beside B and the robot. “It’s alright, we can be lost together, aye? It’ll be new to both of us.” She hunches down further to run her fingers along the bent panel to find a gap, and armors up her fingers before carefully beginning to pry it upwards, “We’ll figure it out, we’ll just tackle each inexplicable-“ She finishes prying back the panel, and lets out a huff. Her eyes take in the alien robots’ insides, wide and overwhelmed, but she nods sharply with her mouth pressed into a line, “One at a time.”