WE ARE NEVER EVER EVER (EVER EVER) GETTING OUT OF THIS LOOP TOGETHER

[initiates]

Date & Time: February 7th - 14th (which happens to be 7 days' worth of February 7th. so just...February 7th.)
Location: Exsilium!
Characters: EVERYONE...who wants to use this space.
Summary: Here
Warnings: TBD (let us know if something needs noting)



February seventh came and went...and came back again. No matter where they were or what they were doing the time midnight rolled around for the eighth...Transports found themselves exactly where they were the midnight prior.

And so the day began again.

And again.

And again – for a week!

For some, maybe the involuntary reset was a godsend. Maybe. But how many times could a person repeat the same day before losing it a little? Or a lot?

Only (looped) time could tell.

Comments

[whatyoumust]

[Vague hand motions translate well enough for Alberto. He nods even as his eyes survey the sizable mass of papers that are littering the area; he knows the chaotic ingredients of a slowly forming strategy when he sees one.]

I’d say to organize your notes if you haven’t already. [There’s a faint crumpling sound. Alberto pauses, then shifts over to pull a sheet of notebook paper he’d missed out from under his rear.] Maybe looking at everything in order will help you take stock of it all again.

[RAISES… EYEBROW…….]

Is the Scarab always talking back like that? [God, Khaji got the sarcasm from them all, didn’t he? It’s contagious.]

[khajidont]

Oh, that's where I put that one. [Whoops. He takes the sheet of paper from his dad and holds it in mid-air, trying to remember where it goes. There is an order in this chaos, but it seems to get all jumbled up all too easily.] It's in, um, chronological order. In theory.

[He should have dated these, or numbered them, or something. He needs to get some highlighters and figure these things out according to current events, past events, missions, UE involvement--

Oh, god. This time loop is turning him into Brenda. That can't be a good sign. In lieu of thinking about that little gem, he answer Alberto, a little absently,] Sometimes, yeah. It gets bored. That, and it likes being a brat.

[No, don't argue, Scarab. You're totally a brat.]

[whatyoumust]

[He snorts.]

If it's that bored, maybe you should ask the Scarab to help you organize. [After all, the Reach must have some super advanced alien filing system with how detailed their plans had been. Right? Right.] You have me, too, but you'll probably have to explain it all as you go.

[A beat.]

You know, your mother might be better at this than I would be.

[khajidont]

Heh. Not a bad idea, so long as it's not the one making the plans.

[The Scarab does what's right these days, and has cut down a lot on making lethal suggestions... but the fact remains that it still thinks that bombing the UE's bases is a really good idea.

(If Jaime were more of a pragmatic thinker, he would have to admit that it's not wrong.)]

I think this is beyond all of us. No point in trying to organize something in chronological order when everything's out of order.

[Whose idea was time travel again? Time travel sucks.]

Besides, Mom's busy trying to sort out Dist's old room.

[Also known as that wreck of a room with writing scrawled across all the walls (some of it likely spelling out how to bring his enemies to a slow and fiery demise) which he and his roommates had decided to completely forget about. Lo and behold, ignoring something doesn't actually make it go away.]

[whatyoumust]

[There will be no large scale bombing plans in this house, mister.]

Ah. [Berto makes a face. That room's... well, it's something, all right.] I think it's best to leave her to it. [He fully suspects his wife of finding some makeshift way to cover up the most murderous scribbles-- when Bianca Reyes needs to find a way, god damn it she will find one.]

But as for the time travel, shouldn't there be an... order to the disorder? I don't know much about it, but things must go back in forth in certain ways. There must be a way to make it all fit together.

[khajidont]

In theory, sure. That's hard enough when there's only a couple of us messing around in it, with people who actually know what they're doing calling the shots, but ever since we've had free rein over the Transporter...

[He trails off, frowning thoughtfully down at his notes.]

See, this right here, and this right here -- these are just two missions, little missions. One was just to pick up some gear for the emergency generators and some food [which shouldn't have happened in the first place, but times were hard and the alternative was starving] and this one right here was intel, in and out. But let's say that we took the supplies needed for some crazy genius dude to make that last leap in inventing a, I dunno, some kind of super-advanced heart monitor that led to some kind of medical revolution. But while we're busy doing that, someone else could've been on a mission thirty years before us and did something to make sure that the street we're on never existed in the first place. I guess the earliest change sticks in that case, but you pile all these tiny changes on top of each other, and -- [he mimics an explosion] -- blooey.

[Can you tell he's been digesting every text on time travel he could possibly find?

Only, most of the textbooks he's been scrounging up don't use the word 'blooey'. That one's a Jaime Reyes special.]

[whatyoumust]

'Blooey', eh.

[A Jaime Reyes special, indeed.

As carefully as Alberto had been listening, only about half of that actually registered as not gibberish. He's good at being patient with this kind of thing, though, so he nods, craning his neck to skim the mission notes that Jaime's pointed out.]

I guess the mechanics aren't something that can be easily understood. [Damn. He was hoping he'd be able to piece something together: looks like the fresh pair of eyes aren't super helpful after all.]

Did no one ever try to organize, or schedule, these missions for everyone once it was a free-for-all?

[khajidont]

Sure, people tried, but it gets kinda hard when people are at each other's necks all the time, [he says, rolling his eyes in clear exasperation. He's let go of his grudge against those involved in the rebellion itself, but you bet he's still holding a grudge against how everyone behaved during it, and everything that's happened since.

A part of him is glad that his folks weren't around for the mutiny, but another part of him is convinced that his mom could have resolved it in maybe a day, given the proper avenues with which she could yell through.]

Let's just say people here aren't so big on cooperation. Only one guy actually managed to coordinate a bunch of them.

[And he has a sinking suspicion that those were the very missions that could have landed them in this mess.]