milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Autor has his feet up on the couch today, taking notes on Schak's German translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.

A medical textbook is on his lap, with detailed entries about dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins earmarked. Dog-eared copies of The Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice, and The Great Gatsby form a stack on the floor against the couch. On the stack is a plate of dumplings, cold and untouched.

Unfortunately, none of it seems to help with his ultimate goal: falling out of love. There's a dearth of classics that teach what he wants to know. Love drives all the great stories, Rae had said, and Autor finds that her words are true, even though he doesn't think his great story is written that way.

There's still a blush on his face. The Rubaiyat is a bit mushy.

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Joly shakes his head, smiling. "Don't worry. We've no particular hopes yet.-- Except I for one hope we might find some way of addressing all this without anyone needing to come to blows again. The more we can find out about how security here works, the more likely that becomes."

He frowns again. "This is no vendetta against Hunt, you know. We may not like the man, but the problem is in the law and its enforcement. Throwing out one officer would be no triumph, even if we could. Better terms between Security and the residents here- that's what's needed."

"Security works in a very fractured and scattered manner, with each individual officer enforcing the law as they see fit, setting the terms as they see fit," Autor says, pursing his lips again. "And each officer interprets the law as well, though I haven't run into many people who don't adhere to it. Punishable violence, I've found, is merely physical, not emotional or psychological, which is why Hannibal Lecter is a free man. It's easier to prove a bloody nose."

He adjusts his glasses. "But I understand. Refining the Security office is of great interest to me as well. Do let me know if I can help in any way. Have you spoken to Teja?"

"Ah- yes, in a manner of speaking." He shakes his head with a laugh. "That is, Lesgle did, somewhat accidentally. I gather it didn't go very well. But then these things always go slowly at first! Have you had any particular dealings with security?"

Autor hesitates, wondering if he should tell Joly the truth--or, rather, how much truth he should tell Joly. "I made the mistake of taking notes on other people for my own personal observations, and someone caught them and alerted Security," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. "Gene Hunt pursued me, and other people were concerned for my well-being; it was how I met him, and I'll tell you that the impression was not favorable on either of our ends. Eventually, I met Teja, Molly, and Melaka Fray, who determined that someone's diary shouldn't be the purview of the whole bar, and the whole thing blew over."

Joly blinks. "You were taking notes, and that's what upset him? I take notes all the time, this place and its residents are endless, how else is a man to learn anything? Though I suppose Officer Hunt may not approve of learning things. Terribly threatening to society, I hear." He can't hide a smile as he says it. It's both too ridiculous and too familiar.

Autor flashes a steely grin. "Indeed, he very much disapproves of students in all their forms," he says, inclining his head. "But... Truth be told it was someone else who brought the notes to his attention, which were considered frightening because they described when a person would die--which they'd told me about themselves. So. Not your standard notes, but certainly not your standard reaction, either."

He tilts his head. "Speaking of notes, would you like mine on the chemistry of love?"

"I suppose being here must cause a great many such oddities. Lesgle too, come to think of it..." Joly shakes his head dismissing the thought for another day. "Certainly I would like to see your notes,if you don't mind sharing!"

"Indeed," Autor says, not unsympathetically. But he dismisses it when Joly does. The boy leans over to pluck the corner of a sheet of paper out of the leaves of his medical text book, and offers it to Joly. "I am sad to say that I don't understand how all of these work, but I am not a true neurochemist, just a dabbler."

Joly looks over the notes with interest. "Dr. Fisher and Dr. Huston-- when did they discover these things? It must have been quite a while past our time?"

And not exactly what he'd expect of any study on the subject. But he's been wrong before!--Rather often, he has to admit.

"Unfortunately I have no idea," Autor says, inclining his head. "I assume it was long after either of our time. Ms. Fisher has written a book titled Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love--it's a good one, you can borrow it--in 2004, but surely the history of neurochemistry predates that."

Joly makes some notes in his current notebook, a nice squarebound little thing. "It's an exhilirating idea, isn't it? That the human soul can be expressed through these chemical interactions, these electrical jumps-- and we can even sort through them! And still, as far as I can tell, even our most advanced visitors don't have societies where the mind is fully understood. The systems are beyond intricate-- but there's still the beginning of understanding."

He rubs the bridge of his nose in thought. "I keep wondering if we dead have any measurable difference from the living in these subtler systems-- but I suppose I need to understand the basics of the living for comparison, at least!"

Autor grins at Joly's enthusiasm, which never fails to cheer the boy. "Yes, it's amazing! To think that we can codify behaviors through the study of chemicals--it's nothing short of incredible, and quite useful," Autor says. "Perhaps the library here will be of use as well--there's all manner of books from all manner of futures, and surely the heart and soul of a person has been examined in one of them, if not many. And I wouldn't know from looking at you if there were. I doubt it."

"People have studied it, indeed! Not always benignly. I --" Joly bites his lip for a moment. "Many of the advances I read of...they were made at a horrible cost. Which is all the more reason to learn of them, of course! But it is a caution, especially in subtle matters."

He brightens. "Like the nature of we Millidead! Indeed, we do seem to be fully alive. And yet our Mandrake's scream did not kill us, and I have heard a few similar stories from other resurrected residents. And then there is the matter of beards. Something is different in us, though whether that is mechanical or chemical or something else entirely I do not know. But think what it might mean to learn!"

"Ah, you're right, Joly," Autor says, nodding. "Thank you for the reminder."

Millidead! The term makes Autor smile. "Matter of beards? Can you not grow one anymore? Is that because you're not aging any longer?" Autor asks, rubbing at his own chin. He's never been able to grow them. "The condition of the Millidead is a fascinating topic of study. Do you ever grow ill now?"

"My beard hasn't grown since I arrived; it took a few days of not shaving to be sure, but I am sure." Not that he really wanted a beard, or grew one very well, but it's still a noticeable change. "I don't think the others have either, though of course it's hard to say for Bahorel yet. And you know? I haven't been ill at all!" That's been a pleasant surprise. "Which means Bar isn't just,oh, resetting us to our last point before death, somehow, because I had a cold before the battle-- and during, which was of course a bit ridiculous-- but it's gone since I arrived. And I've not been ill sense, which I really should be, exposed to so many new people! But that may be an effect of Milliways in general;really we should all be giving each other endless new diseases just by sharing our air, you know!" He says this in great excitement, then catches himself and laughs. "Though of course I'm glad it's proved to be otherwise."

"We definitely do have hangovers, though. And we can injure ourselves, and don't seem to recover any faster than anyone else."

"Fascinating," Autor says, tapping his chin. "I've always wondered about the exposure rate around here, especially given that some of us are from different planets, and should therefore have different diseases. There must be some magic keeping us from all keeling over."

He cocks his head. "So it's an entirely new existence for you. I can see why you'd want to figure out how it works. I assume your heart still beats, despite your not aging?"

Joly nods enthusiastically. "Yes, that's right! Heart beats-- and my pulse keeps the same rate, and so does Bossuet's, I can't be certain but I think the others are the same way. And we eat, of course, and have all the effects of that-- I mean, if we overindulge, or what have you. And we need sleep, the same as anyone. Yet no other sign of time passing."

He leans back and thinks a moment. "I should take scans of everyone-- our brains, our hearts, and such, track it over time. My friends at least will participate,they're mostly patient with these things, though it would be better to have a wider sample."

He laughs then. "But here, I'm going on about projects that may see no results for years. We have much simpler work ahead of us. Shall I meet you tomorrow to find a proper room for our theater?"

"Guppy has scanners which I'm sure will work for the purpose," Autor says, nodding. "I am eager to see the results of your work, Joly. I am certain that you'll find a wider sample size in the bar. And yes, of course, let us meet to scout out a theater."

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