2022-02-10: Don't Drink Interdimensional Coffee
- Log: Don't Drink Interdimensional Coffee
- Cast: Nanai Miguel, Shelby Korts
- Where: Sweetwater Colony, Side 4
- Date: 2022-02-10
- Summary: Shelby calls her personal therapist after a dream that wasn't really a dream. Luckily, her therapist has personal experience with dimensional oddities.
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
She wakes up.
Chaos and cacophany explode: The voices were back, sudden and sharp and loud and aggressively painful to hear. Her neighbors know of her occasional restless nights. The times that she screams herself awake, and how apologetic she is the next day, but this time -- this time it was right in the middle of the day that she woke with that particular knife in the back of her mind.
And that is how Shelby Korts realizes that she is back in Sweetwater Colony, waking up in a sitting position against the inside of her own apartment's front door, clutching a styrofoam cup with a plastic lid. It's with a hand on her head and clutching the wall that she gets herself to the phone to call Nanai Miguel, making a short plea to meet: 'The warehouse, maybe, because it's quiet, maybe, unless somewhere else was better, but Something happened to her and she's scared but this was important and can't wait, and-- and-- Please. I'll be there.'
It's tough to get herself sorted out; finding keys, grabbing a small wallet to stuff into her hoodie pocket, and stumbling out the door.
Shelby arrives first, already sitting in one of the chairs in the smaller impromptu lab-work area. Her hands are pressed against her eyes, glasses on a table and trying to breathe evenly-- and just for safety (and possibly to cut off future complaints from Anser) she keeps a small trash bin between her feet.
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
There's no place in the closed-type section that is far from people. That is a luxury reserved for the open-type section -- but even saying that is a comparative thing. Sweetwater is just crowded, plain and simple, no matter what level of relative affluence its occupants hold.
That's how it goes. The warehouse basement is away from people -- relatively speaking. The warehouse basement is quiet -- relatively speaking. The warehouse basement is safe -- well, you know.
Shelby arrives first and that's no surprise. Nanai rarely leaves idle time for herself. There may be some element of bloody penance in her constant work on Sweetwater's behalf, but truly this is just the sort of person she's always been, as far as her subordinates can tell. No one knows her well enough to know the kind of person she was before joining the rebellion. For them, the chief operations officer -- the director -- has always fit her job's hectic needs.
So, when Shelby hits the panic button, her commander-slash-therapist has transit time. Occupational hazard on both sides.
Shelby can feel the presence before she can hear it. The frayed, corner-of-the-eyes voices edging into her undifferentiated empathic sense slowly, gently drown away. Something happened to Nanai during Axis Shock. Before, the director was merely pleasant. Thoughts kept to herself. Composed. Tidy. Perhaps she still is, in a way. But now, that tidy is tidal, and her presence is like an ocean rolling in over the shoals.
It's easier to think about the ocean than to think about everything in it.
The sound of Nanai's boots on the stairs signals her physical entrance. The director, wearing one of her long coats and scarves, pauses at the bottom of the threshold to look over the lab space. Her gaze rises to the lighting across the ceiling, presently half-off -- emergency lighting only, which is politely dim. She makes no effort to turn on the full fluorescents.
Instead, Nanai crosses the basement floor with the quiet currents following her. She only pauses near one of the workbenches to remove her shoulder bag and leave it there. Once near Shelby, she stops about ten feet out, waiting to see what kind of mood the young newtype is in.
"Shelby," she says. "How are you feeling?"
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
It's welcome relief that the lights aren't turned on. Surely, that would be like adding onto one hell of an empathic/psychic hangover. But -- everything is trying to fit together. She has to *make* everything fit together. Or does she? No, relax -- let it flow. She's reminded of this the instant that she can pick up on the sensations, the feelings of Nanai's approach. She can deal with this. It just takes some time.
Her head doesn't lift until the Director stands at that respectable distance away. The heels of her hansd shift down, and she rubs her face before lifting her chin to look up at Nanai with all the tell-tale signs of trouble sleeping, again, clinging to her. This time, it feels a little different: She's scared, or at least having a ten-round bout with anxiety and one of these things is definitely winning out over calm right now.
"I wanna throw up," she replies. The pink-haired Newtype reaches for her glasses, fumbling the frames before getting them back on. "Sweaty. Gross."
The young cook's hands support her head as it lulls halfway between hanging and not. "Something happened. I can't explain it. I-I don't know if it was a dream or not. I thought it was, but I'm not so sure," she explains, staring at a styrofoam convienence store cup on the corner of the desk.
She draws a deep, deep breath in through her nose, trying to keep herself centered-- and it certainly feels like she's on wrong side of the ragged edge of control. "I didn't know if it was some kind of psycho-frame reaction but that doesn't make sense, right?" Shelby asks, her hand lifting as though she's trying, hard, to dismiss concepts immediately. "It just felt so real. And then when I woke up I was ... not, in, ... bed."
Again, she stares at the cup. "I woke up in Japan. Not... I don't." Her mouth draws into a flat line. "Sorry. ... I'm sorry. It's just, hard, it. ... Sorry."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Some people call Nanai cold. Others are more generous, and say that she's a hard woman to know. These are true in their own ways. What also is true is that they are lies, and Nanai cares more than most people will ever know. It takes time and effort to realize this about her, to notice the little details that make her shape make sense.
Newtypes, of course, have nothing but time.
The ocean pressure surrounds. In another look, maybe it's instead a drawn curtain. Light filters through either in the same hazy way, in different flavors of soft focus.
Nanai doesn't interrupt while Shelby tries to get it out. She watches and feels. In the silence afterward, she draws nearer by steps.
"It was real," she says. "It doesn't matter if it was a dream. It had a real effect on you. You don't need to discredit yourself."
Her hand touches the back of an office chair as she comes closer, dragging it along in her wake. She spins it so that she's able to sit down upon it across from Shelby. Old lab tricks.
"You were in Japan. What happened? Do you remember?"
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
It's been awhile since an attack -- or rather, a headache -- this severe. Having someone to talk to helps, and it helps more that Nanai's listening. Shelby seems to be finally regaining her footing. Her mind repeats mantras, sayings, affirmations -- things to get her to start centering up: Relax. Float. Let it flow. Feel the current.
"I ... I went to bed. And I got to sleep. No problem," she lies. "And then ... I was just ... there. In this city, on a street corner, and I was by myself. A-and there were people everywhere, but i-it was like ... nobody existed."
Shelby's hands shift from the crown of her head to the back of her neck, fingers pushing hard against tense muscle and bone. "It wasn't like-- you know. It wasn't like being in a room of normal people or whatever. It was like being surrounded by *nothing*. Just ... silence? I-It was like ... not being able to see."
"There were these... giant monsters, in the distance? And they weren't even doing anything, they were just *there*, in the city. Nobody seemed to notice, or care. I didn't know what to do, and then ... this girl showed up. And I could," Shelby taps two fingers against her temple, "feel her. But it was ... we were alone. And it was just so *quiet*."
"She... gave me some money to get on a train so I could leave. After that, I woke up inside my place. B-But I... I wasn't in bed. I was ... it was like I just got inside the door and just dropped."
Her head lifts, finally, to look up at Nanai, looking a right mess. "Tsutsujidai. She said I was in Tsutsujidai."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
They've been here before. Two chairs. Describing and listening. Silence and prompting. Nanai is missing her notes, but this is an informal session anyway.
The consideration is the same. Nanai's gaze never leaves Shelby. But, neither does her expression give hint to what she may think of the younger woman's recollections. In a way, that's a blessing. There's no judgment.
The only shift comes in the last moments, when Shelby names the place. Tsutsujidai. At that, Nanai furrows her brow.
The director settles back into her chair, spreading her arms over the armrests. Now it's her turn to think.
Finally:
"Since our contact with Dr. Mass, I've begun to receive some information from the Shuffle Alliance," she says. "That name... it was part of a peculiar report."
Nanai's green eyes shift up away, as if looking off toward Sweetwater's gravity center.
"It described a place located in a different reality, with a different history. A place that people fall asleep when they enter. But the name... and the presence of these giant monsters. It's all consistent."
Nanai's gaze cuts back to Shelby, now drawn with concern instead.
"Did this girl say anything else to you?"
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
The sessions certainly have evolved over time. An angry, feral teenager with too much power and almost no control. Someone that learned to hone their emotions into a blade. Someone turned their anger toward the world, until...
Well, a miracle.
And now, after that long silence, this: Somehow, she really did go to another world.
After a silence, her eyes shift left, then right. Finally, she just says, "Oh."
Another wave of nausea roils in her gut, hands shifting to her stomach as she sits a bit more upright. Within a few moments of thought, Shelby's eyes drop down as the idea sinks it's hooks into her deeper, slumping back in the office chair a bit more. "She's worried about her world. That ... somehow ours and hers keep connecting. That people have only really started noticing the monsters. The, um. The kaiju? Just in the last month, and some people are starting to freak out."
Talking seems to help. She's relaxing, letting the thoughts come to her. It's far easier than trying to sort through the slurry that is her memories. "She knew about the PLANTs and Earth. A-And, like I said, the train. She was... nice to me. I don't know if she was a newtype, but... she was the only thing that made sense there."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Worried about her world.
Connection -- somehow.
The only thing that made sense.
For another stretch of time, Nanai is lost in her thoughts. She makes a quiet excuse of this by raising her hand to touch her chin while she looks off. One of those little gestures that people do to communicate without words. Quaintly archaic, considering the company.
"I have some theories about situations like this," she says, choosing her words slowly as she builds her thoughts into sentences. "But I can't say more with so little information. It's best not to predispose you to conjecture, should this happen to you again."
Nanai drops her hand and rises from the chair. She gestures back to Shelby to indicate that she's not leaving, and then walks back to the workbench where she left her bag.
"There are people working with the Shuffle Alliance who have firsthand knowledge. I can't put you in contact with them directly, but if you inquire through the Alliance network, you should be able to find them. I think it would help your mental state to have a conversation with them."
Nanai pauses while going through her bag, and looks back over to Shelby.
"Did the girl give you her name?"
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"Oh. ... Okay."
Nanai stands, and Shelby shifts from her slouch and uses her arms to push herself up and scoot in the seat, to sit more upright. Before she can inquire or worry if they're finished, however, the gesture gives her reassurance. "I-I mean, I understand. I didn't think waking up in another world was something I could do. O-Or any of us, I mean, just that ... it's weird, right?"
While Nanai's back is turned, the young newtype rubs at the side of her head, digging her thumb against her temple as thought it were going to relieve all the pressure, and voices, inside. Did she give her name? Shelby doesn't need to take time to think about it -- this is still fresh in her mind: "Akane Shinjo. She was dressed like a school student. Younger than me, I think."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
"Akane Shinjo," says Nanai, repeating the name for memory's sake. After a beat, she shakes her head.
"I don't think she's one of the people known to the Alliance. But, they may know of her."
Nanai returns back to Shelby's resting place -- she's not quite entrenched enough for it to be a proper nest -- and holds out her hand. She's offering the other woman a small card with a digital code graphic on one side.
"Here's the contacts. You're looking for Sho Utsumi, but he was only the most talkative. There's others, as well."
A pause. Then, Nanai reaches down to rest her hand on Shelby's shoulder.
"I don't know what's happening here yet. It could be a property of that other world instead of anything having to do with you. Even so, newtypes form connections. You have a connection to this place now -- to that girl. I think you won't be at ease until you understand what that connection means for you."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"I see."
Blue eyes shift from Nanai to the card, hesitating before she reaches out to take it. "Sho Utsumi," she repeats, trying (trying) to commit the name to memory. "Sho Utsumi. Sho Utsumi."
The hand rests on her shoulder, and Shelby looks back up, looking ... tired, feeling a slight release of the tension and pain in her head, and ... also just a little relieved. The barely-restrained chaos that is her heart finds a degree of ebb and flow, giving the young woman enough peace of mind to accept this with, at least, an outward sign: Nodding.
"I'll figure it out, Director. I promise."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
For the first time in this meeting, Nanai's expression gentles. It's a slight thing, but even the slight can be meaningful.
"I know you will. You've made such progress since we first met. A challenge like this won't stop you."
A few moments of silence pass. Nanai's gaze shifts over to the styrofoam cup with the unfamiliar convenience store logo across the front.
"So... is that...?"
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Shelby's mouth bends in a smile. It feels ... good. She can't deny it.
Slipping her hand into the pocket of her hoodie, she tucks the card away for later. The glance falls on the cup, and again she's reminded of her time there. "Y-Yeah. I ... I can't explain it. Akane gave me some cash for the train and the coffee, and I was ... definitely drinking it when I left town, but then ... I don't know. I can't explain it."
She gives Nanai a glance, looking a little unnerved.
"I just... *fell asleep* on the train."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
"The report mentioned that would happen."
Nanai moves over to the table to stand in front of the cup. She ducks down enough to look at it at eye level, pursing her lips.
"Do you mind if I take it? I want to run some tests."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
"Yeah, I know, I-I just ... I can't remember the last time I ever ... just ... did that."
Shelby eases herself out of the chair, bending forward to pick up the small trash container and slide it back under the table. She's feeling better, it seems, as she steps up to Nanai's side to stare the cup down at eye level, in all it's 721/Seven Two One glory. "Um. Sure, of course. I held onto it because I thought otherwise I'd sound ... well, not well."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
"Wellness is a matter of opinion," Nanai murmurs.
She stands and takes up the cup very casually in one hand. Whatever tests she wants to run evidently won't mind her touching it now. The director raises it up and spins it around to see it from every angle, and then glances down to Shelby.
"Stomach settled? You should eat something if so. It'll help your emotional regulation."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Shelby's eyebrows scrunch as Nanai makes the suggestion, stomach growling almost on cue. How the hell did she...? "I...? -- yeah." Her eyes close while the Director examines the cup, shaking her head as though it were going to clear the cobwebs a bit.
The young woman looks for the nearest clock next. "I haven't eaten since last night. I-- don't even know what time-- Oh. Was I gone that long?"
Shifting her hand to grip her other arm close, the newtype draws in a breath, more centered than when she arrived, certainly. "Um. Thank you, Director. I-if you'll excuse me, I'll... head upstairs, and do that. I'm ... I'm sorry if I pulled you away from something."
<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.
Nanai again puts a hand on Shelby, but this time it's a steadying touch to her back.
"Shelby, you were forcibly translocated to an alternate reality populated by giant monsters where you were deprived of your innate senses and a strange girl bought you coffee when caffeine completely ruins your sleep schedule."
The director offers the other woman an amused smile.
"I'm glad you called. Now, go get some food while I dismantle this cup with nanomachines."
<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.
Well, she can't deny that.
Shelby's mouth opens, then closes, trying her best to offer an honest smile. "Yes, ma'am."
In the next few moments, she's on her way up the stairs to get something to eat and leave the Director to her mystery.