The Machine (Game thread)

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Remnant
Phil_ozzy_ferFor any cards you draw, it might help if you use a real deck of cards because there's no chance anything will repeat. Maybe just put which cards you drew as a ooc note, or a spoiler. Otherwise, let the story unfold as you see fit.

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Debbie Hortenza's Diary, September 4, 2016

I kind of hope this was like the diary of Tom Riddle from that movie, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, where you write and someone writes back. After staring at the page for five minutes just now, I suppose it isn't. You have to try.

It's a spooky journal, though. I found it in my apartment. The place was empty when I moved in, a condo complex converted from an old factory. My space isn't a corner but I'm on the top, so no stomping neighbours above. The ceilings are five meters high, and bare brick outside wall, with a rich mahogany finish on the interior walls. It reminds me of the pub on St. Vincent's where I met Kendra. I don't go back there now, but it was like this.

Oh, so I found the journal under my bed. I know that the room was empty when I moved in, so maybe it was stuck to the bottom of the bed? That's the only thing I can guess other than someone getting in here. I checked the doors and windows so I think I'm safe. I'll keep a journal I think. I've wanted to for ages.

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Debbie Hortenza's Dream Diary, September 5, 2016

My dream was so vivid, I'm writing it down. I'll used the journal to help remember them, they always seem to fade away. I wish this one would.

I think I was at the Starling and Pelican pub. I was waiting for Kendra, and I knew I was wearing my best kit. My second Newcastle and cider was half done, and I was trying not to guzzle it back. I didn't want to get tippled and make a fool. The music was crunchy, some guitar trio with no imagination but a visceral hostility toward melody. I tried to ignore it. As it faded out with what I hoped was the bartender just turning it down midstream, I felt nervous. something was coming. I looked around, and the people were gone. A door swung at the back. I went in following whereever the others went. I don't know why, it seemed right.

The room was ... no, it wasn't a room, it was a thing where you go somewhere in your dream and you're somewhere else. It was Limbo, I am sure of it. The Machine was there, a great metal and wood contraption, like a loom or a hurdy gurdy the size of a grand piano. It exploded in slow motion and I walked through it. Even now I can picture all of the pieces. All of them. Hundreds. Only, I can't forget. I close my eyes and they're still there.

I think I'll build it. A lie. I am going to build it. I've got the tools from uncle, and I know that I'll need other things. I've always been good a learning things, physical or otherwise. With my degree in music theory, building a giant hurdy-gurdy just seems the way to go. The tip is just down the road, so I can get scrap. It's doable. I'm doing it. I'll build the Machine and that will help me forget Kendra.

Debbie Hortenza's Dream Diary, September 12, 2016
I have made something. A framework, I suppose. It's not much, but my books are useless. Nothing I've found has hinted at anything like I imagined. Do I need to audit mechanical engineering classes? Too slow, that would be, and I want to build. Instead, I used my university ID to purchase AutoCAD and began to arrange the pieces in the emulator. That is slow, too, but this lead to something else.

I ran into Kendra at the quad. I shouldn't have gone, but there she was on our rock, reading Keats. Such a romantic fool. I snuck behind her and said,
Hither hither, love—
‘Tis a shady mead—
Hither, hither, love!
Let us feed and feed!

She spotted me instantly and I saw her melt for me once more. I held her hand and kissed her fingers.

There's no going back, but love can live in nostalgia, too. I hope.

I stayed up all night learning to TIG weld.

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Debbie Hortenza's Dream Diary, September 23, 2016

I purchased a used metal lathe. My credit card was maxed but that didn't matter. If I didn't make more progress, I would be stuck in this pattern forever. The dreams were getting louder, even closing my eyes and counting to ten brings it back. We I work on it, the feeling goes away, that vibrating desperation.

Kendra came over. We had been trading messages on WhatsApp. I think I agreed to her bringing dinner, but my mind wasn't on it, I wasn't remembering things so good anymore, unless it someone linked to the project. Throughout dinner, as she bustled about my barely maintained kitchen, I was humming, trying to imagine what the machine would sound like.

I am not sure what happened then. I was running the lathe and grinding down a spindle supprt, when she got to close. She screamed at me, dropped a plate of food at my feet and called 999. I got it ground down by the time the ambulance arrived.

I tried to call her the next day, but she blocked me. More time for the Machine.

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Debbie Hortenza's Dream Diary, October 5, 2016
I heard from Keith today. Kendra lost an eye. A metal sliver caught her and then she jammed it around trying to get it out before the ambulance arrived.

I don't know what's going on. I remember being in love. I can feel the feeling in memory if not now. Ever since I started these dreams, the need has grown. Is this a moment of clarity? Should I seek help?

I don't know. It feels right, like I'm doing the right thing, and it's hard to think. I went to the mission on St. Vincent's by the pub. I stood in the door way, petrified. I couldn't enter. I wanted to but my body didn't listen. Instead, I went to the Starling and Pelican and ordered a brandy. Then another. The third had me singing karaoke and they didn't have a machine.

I threw up on the steps of the mission, and cried. Tears for Kendra and her eye, and imagining me in her place if she slowly cut me out of her life for a reason I found stupid. I called to God, plead for a sign, telling me what to do. I need help. I need assistance. I need to know I'm not going crazy.

I saw no sign.

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Debbie Hortenza's Dream Diary, October 8, 2016
I can't sleep. The dreams wake me. The terrors. I haven't been eating, I can't stomach it. The only thing that keeps me going is working the lathe, machining parts. It eases the ache, the terrible anxiety that overwhelms me. I am not good enough for this, I'm an academic, not a bluecollar worker. It takes me too long, but I have to keep going.

I have music cranked on my phone and earbuds, but even then, all I hear is the dream.

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[/ooc]

Debbie Hortenza's Dream Diary, October 14, 2016
I can't feel my toes. I don't know why, what is happening? Who did this to me? Was it Kendra? Fucking bitch. The beach is near, there is sand but my toes don't feel it. Remember to find shoes. I am so weka I keep dropping my pne. I'm close. Here I would bury her in the sand and stomp on it. one eye NOT MY FAULT.

I had the police come. Something about a smell. I wouldn't let them in. Secret art project. They could see the Machine from the door. Didn't understand, thoutgh it was welding modern sculpture gits. No, it's everything.

Door ringing . Don't care. I'm turning it on. Oh the first notes were wonderful I will write it in here, but first, the crankshaft is out of the sprocket. Okay, someone, Oh its Kendra she

Debbie's diary ends with a half finished sentence.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, October 15, 2016

I saw her laid down, pale, cold. Her body was full of cuts and bruises. They said they found her already dead. Some sort of blast while she was working on her secret project. As I looked at the woman I couldn't stop but worrying. Something was wrong about it, about her and... the way she died. I have never seen anything quite like it...

It haunted me, all day.

I had to check the scene of the accident. I was sure that there had to be something else, something more about this. If I just had a look at her house, I was sure I would know what. I got her address from the file. Debbie Hortenza... She must have been a pretty face...

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Got to Hortenza's place as soon as I finished my hospital shift. The place was locked. The police was still investigating the accident, just finishing collecting the last piece of evidence it would seem. I don't think anyone thought much about it. Hortenza's friend said she was behaving strangely, probably some underlying mental issues that got to her due to recent stress.

I had to sneak through the back window... broke it and climbed inside. It was the first time I saw this very Diary. It smelled new. It felt old, burdened. I took it, I don't know why. Something within me, some instinct, maybe fate. It was then that I looked at the accident. It looked like wreckage of some sort. I couldn't tell what it was but, for some reason I felt compelled to grab my iPhone and take pictures of every little detail. It was a fascinating device she was building and I immediately wondered what it was for.

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That night I saw it. All the scattered pieces in the room, their shapes and their sizes, all fitting into one single Machine. I saw them flying in slow motion, coming together into the great metal and wood contraption, like a loom or a hurdy gurdy the size of a grand piano. I woke up, sweating and panting. It was strange, dangerous. I could feel it. Ah! But that sound! How could such an irresistible sound be? This machine is indeed a piece of the greatest art! I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, refocused. I can picture all of the pieces. All of them. Hundreds. I am going to finish it. I have her blueprints, her Diary. I will build on her failure. I will start here, with this Diary.

And I am going to set that music free into the world !

Alex Graves' Research Diary, October 27, 2016

I spent days studying Hortenza's Diary. Before I knew it, a week was gone and it was my turn to take care of the kids. Just the thought of stopping the work for an entire week was excruciating. Charlie is going to be ok. A 13 years old who spends his life staring at either a computer screen or a mobile phone and who would be happy to eat microwaved pizza for all eternity is fairly easy to manage. The problem will be the Lizzie. She's 7, curious and loves to touch everything, literally...

I'l have to take the day off and clear my mind of this Machine...

Alex Graves' Research Diary, October 28, 2016

Slept badly. Spend night doing some final fixes on the Machine. It should be almost ready. Have to pick up the kids, but can't stop thinking about the Machine. Checked the time, I'll be at least an hour late, if the traffic is good! Damn, I can see a bloody lecture coming my way. Have to go.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 1, 2016

Is was a disaster!

Empty pages

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 3, 2016

Things are a bit better now. The kids were not too bad and the accident... the accident was ok. Insurance should cover the damage, no one got seriously hurt and... I managed to talk some sense into my wife. Though she did give me that look, I'll not loose the kids

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 4, 2016

Should be out soon and I can't stop thinking of the moment I get back to the work. Maybe writing it down will help me laying down the next move. After all, I have a lot of time at the hospital... to rethink the Machine.

I did manage to get Lizzie to help. It was easy to channel her childish curiosity to have her sort little pieces and put small mechanisms together. After she went to sleep, I assembled it all. It was like a game and she loved it. We made a lot of progress. I, I think she was having fun...

What I didn't expect was Charlie's curiosity.

Why didn't he just stay and do whatever kids do nowadays like he always does.

Instead, he convinced Lizzie to show him the game and powered the Machine.

I had set up a small improvised power source. It was meant for small tests on small parts, not to feed the entire device! I ran as soon as I heard the gears turning, the cogs pulling the heavy sprocket, the crankshafts moving.

And then, the first three notes.
Freed into the world!

Suddenly, an awful metallic screech filled the room, something flew into the wall. I grabbed Lizzie and pulled her shocked body out of the room. I don't think she will be an engineer now.

Charlie, that weasel, was as quick to disappear as always.

Then, the entire contraption fell, burying me in a pile of scraps. I saw the horrified look in Lizzie's eyes and felt the sharp pain on my leg. Unbearable pain.

That was the crushed knee cap.

The kids will not be staying with me now. I can't really take care of them like this. But they will visit more often to check on me. I'll move the Machine to the basement and lock it. Should be safe there. And, with all the time I'll have on my own, I'm sure I'll be able to finish the machine soon. Maybe I'll get the neighbor's help. He is nice and was very interested when he found out about my pet project, though I didn't tell him what it was in detail.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 7, 2016

When I finally got back home, I checked my mail, as usual. I have been away for some time, so there was a lot of advertisement and other useless stuff. I turned to the trash bin, prepared to just throw all that crap away when it fell. A single letter. From the Medical Society. I assumed it would be the hospital bill or something.

But no.
It was an invitation.

"Musical therapy psychosomatic effects on postoperative recovery". After my marriage broke up, I tried to focus on just about anything. I had to take my mind of the fact my life was not going as planned. Work was the easiest and that's when I wrote that report. Musical therapy... It seems like a premonition now. As if the Machine has always been there, just waiting for me to find it.

The problem is... the invitation is to join a conference somewhere on the other coast.

I can't go. That will be at least another week away!
I have to focus on my work, on the Machine.

But also I can't not go. I used to want this. And I told that to everyone. I was proud of that publication. The conclusions were solid, the story just told itself. This was the recognition of my great work, a work which could have a meaningful impact on patients. I don't care anymore about any of it, without the Machine's sound, it doesn't matter. Maybe if I could test the Machine's effects... Oh the results would be amazing...

The management is going to ask questions, if I turn down a price of such importance. How can the hospital miss such an amazing marketing opportunity? Those sharks only care about the cash inflow! They will never understand the sublimeness of those three notes I heard. Unless they never find out about it. No, they will find out. It's a small world. Too small...

I have to go. I have to leave my work... for now. They will probably promote me to department head for this. But I don't care, my work is the Machine now.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 12, 2016

I'm on the flight to that medical conference. Everyone is excited about this. Everyone is proud of this. Everyone is very happy for me.

Averyone, except me.

What am I doing here? I can't focus, I can't sleep. I'm too tired...

I spend the last days working on it. It is beautiful even at this stage. Without any distraction, I managed to make some good progress. The neighbor came to check on me. Brought me some soup and pie for the recovery. He was really interested in the project, and real nice, though he thinks it is some sort of renovation work on an old family piano. I don't mind, as long as he doesn't break anything, he may actually help.

But then I had to leave. I think I should be proud of this opportunity. I want to be proud. It should be an honor to be invited for such an event. But my mind is back home. I haven't even prepared the speech! Oh! I'm going to need a speech. Maybe this is an opportunity to introduce my project to the community no? Musical therapy will benefit from better... music, sound, tones. Ah, how I still dream about the heavenly machine I will build. No matter what.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 15, 2016

I spent the day in the hotel room. In fact, I spent most of the days after that plenary session. Most of that time, I was looking at the walls or the ceiling. I wonder what this color is... I can never tell the right tone

Last day of the conference tomorrow. Need to pack.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 16, 2016

Alone in this room, I cam safe. This was a moment of glory, but at what cost? Maybe I will stay here for another day. I can't find the strength to pack my things and go.

They didn't wait long before the accusations started to fly. Even before I had a change to start my presentation, it was already out. I really just wanted this, the glory, the recognition, the promotion. I can't remember why anymore, but I remember wanting it, badly. So I crushed anyone standing in my way. This work, the work I don't care about anymore, the one called [i]"Musical therapy psychosomatic effects on postoperative recovery"[/I]... it isn't completely mine. Feels good to finally confess, even if such to myself.

But now I can't go back! I had to utterly destroy that student's career... again. And for what? For this? I don't think I can put out this fire. It is about to grow beyond control, I feel it. I feel if consuming me, breaking free from my grasp.

All these days, and I still can't remember his name... I should at least know the mane of the person whose life I destroyed, no?

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 19, 2016

Why! Why did this have to happen? Why does the universe stand in my way? Is this payback? Is it Karma? Is this the punishment for my sins?

I am awakened! Finally I can see it clearly! I will not be dragged down by the accusations of a loser like that student that can't even keep his work to himself. It's his fault he is weak and didn't protect his stupid work. I'm ready to show them my value! The machine will show them all!

And now this stupid storm! It's not going to keep me away from my destiny forever. I will get back to the machine and I will be the one finishing it... soon!

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 25, 2016

Finally made it! I have spent the last hours just sitting on the corner of the room, listening to it. Those three notes again. I brought them back, revived them! They play over and over again. Endlessly. I'm going to listen to this divine sound. Rest a little bit. Alone. Away. No one else to disturb this moment. Those pesky naysayers who have always stood in my way. Pushing me down with their little minds, dragging me into banality.

But I am bigger, better, greater than any of these little people. I am elevated to the divine now! They are just afraid of me, of being blinded by my light!!!!

Alex Graves' Research Diary, the strange night of the OOC, 2016

I am growing fur. Light brown and white patches. I grab cigar and light it as I wait for the water to boil. It's a cold night and some tea will help me focus on my tax returns. Do I need to declare my poker wins I wonder as I stare at the full moon.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, November 30, 2016

Day and night are meaningless to me now. They blend like a dream. I have done no more work on the machine. Those three notes. Engraved in my brain. I can hear them clearly even in my sleep. I can't even tell is the machine is on or off. They are always there, with their hypnotizing power. I can't wait to finish it, listen to the entire music. There is so much to do!

Listen to that. Beautiful. I just want to stay here and listen to it a little bit longer.

Alex Graves' Research Diary, December 10, 2016

How could she do this to me? After all, I have achieved. After all I have done for them! All for them!!!

It was a sudden shout. Time flew and I forgot it was my turn. About the kids. And when she came to drop them, they found me... listening to the machine... peacefully sitting in my armchair. There was shouting, something about my look or my weight. She called them and they came and took me away. Blue lights, noise, a nightmare. I am trying to fight, but my body could not stand against those brutish demons. Diagnoses, tests, questions, followed.

They kept me in the hospital, bedridden, connected to all those tubes and machine, to heal my body. But the truth was clear when I got back. They kept me arrested, forced to lay in that bed while they destroyed all I have done! They took everything!!! Destroyed the machine, burned the blueprints, took me away! An hazard to the children and myself! Lies! ALL LIES!!! To be so close to Heaven and be cast down this brutally.

If that was not enough, they took my job as well. Put on medical leave to rest. Delusional they said and medicated me with some crap they expect me to take. How dare them?

That student! He must have turned her against me as well. Turned everyone. Jealous traitors all of them! Everyone has turned against me and my creation. I could understand the others. But my wife? My children?

Alex Graves' Research Diary, December 15, 2016

Withdrawal. That's what they call it. To me it feels more like existential angst, an anxious boredom, a meaningless existence. Though I must say the visits from the neighbor are more frequent and they have become about more than pie and a soup.

His wife is away. Something about her family, someone sick or whatever. Who cares really? Me and Gwen... oh, I haven't written her name for so long it feels so strange to do it. I wonder how the kids are doing... We both have eyed that piece of man candy next door before. We would make fun and laugh about it. But we knew he eyed us back, every time. The scumbag couldn't see a woman without objectifying her!

At least I have something to look forward, some excitement to replace my dreams with, to try to forget the Machine. He is just a distraction, but at least I can get a hint of that lost love... a simple fragment of a memory returned...

And then, I just wait... again. On my own. A meaningless wait as I can't return to my work, to the Machine, time wasted dreaming of those sounds... Maybe if I could only get Gwen to understand me...