ataraxion | video.

[ Simon comes into view unsmiling and still, standing framed by one of the unadorned walls of his room. ]

Those of you who aren't human. Or are more than only human. If you lie low, or pass, or hide—why? [ He's quiet, with an Irish accent and a cadence that's steady verging on mumbly, and intently focused. He's not uncomfortable, not fidgety or uncertain, but he isn't quite at ease, either, in front of a camera. He's only using video to make a display of his bloodless face and white eyes. ] Has something happened to you here? Or is it a habit you've carried from home?

We may not be in the minority, altogether.

[ That's less threatening than we could outnumber them, right? Right.

That's also the end of what he'd planned to say ahead of time; he shifts back from the screen, looks aside, and nearly disconnects before more occurs to him. ]

If you want to talk and don't trust this to stay private, I'm in room two hundred on the third floor. You can... [ Leave a note, he almost said, but he's yet to see paper or pens. He raises his eyebrows like a shrug. ] Paint your answer on the wall.

Or knock. I'll be here.

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I kept on the down-low when I first rolled in, but an organization back home had me on a dissection slab when I was like ten so... ya know. Caution. [ Exaggerated shrug. ]

People here seem to be pretty cool with everything though. Docs included.

They seem friendly. [ His tone is mild, but that isn't a compliment. Or agreement, really. Anyone can seem friendly until it suits them not to.

As for dissection—he sympathises. ] Are you all right?

[ He smiles and thumps his chest with one fist. ] Just fine. Got the jump on 'em, ya know?

[ His expression falls into something less ~teenage boasting~ and more concerned. ]
You... don't seem so convinced. Are people messing with you?

[ Someone was totally mean to him in the locker room, waaah, and he took the clones vs. robots vs. zombies discussion more personally than necessary—but he shakes his head. ] I'm all right. [ He's not here to talk about himself. ]

How long did they have you? That organisation.

[ His brow furrows a bit at that. That wasn't a 'no'. But dude doesn't seem overly distressed so he decides to keep an eye out rather than pressing. ]

Five years. --But it was willing on my part. [ He pauses. ] Wow it sounds kind of bad when I say it like that. --But it's a good thing. Really.

The dissection is a good thing?

[ He can understand the sentiment at least, even if he'll probably think it's misguided. He was a volunteer at first, sort of, for a while. A misguided one. ]

Nonononono. [ He holds his hands up. ] They don't dissect anyone anymore. --I wouldn't be working for them if they did.

The short version is: nanite infection spread, people became mindless monsters, rampages were had, people got scared, Providence popped up and started killing and/or experimenting on EVOs. [ He counts each point off on his fingers. ] Then I was found, and I'm awesome and can cure EVOs, so they changed their entire methodology and started containing folks 'til I could get around to curing 'em. [ He looks at his remaining fingers and feels quite accomplished in summing up his world's relevant history in less than ten points. ]

[ Very concise. Good job. Simon's still frowning a little, though. ]

The EVOs are the mindless monsters?

Yeah. Well... Sort of. "Exponentially Variegated Organisms" are any living things mutated by nanites. Mutation doesn't guarantee mindlessness, though.

I'm an EVO, technically speaking-- hence the dissection attempt way back when. --And some of my friends sport tentacles but are still really intelligent, cool dudes, so. There's a range of monster madness to radness there. It's kind of random, who gets affected and how severely.

[ Son, your life is weird as heck. And this is coming from a dead junkie turned test subject turned terrorist. ]

I take it you missed out on the tentacles?

Yeah, but I have this. [ Grinning, he holds up a hand. Metal surges from his skin, coalescing into an over-sized robotic fist in the blink of an eye. He wiggles his fingers briefly before retracting the whole ensemble once more. His clothing remains unaffected by the temporary metamorphosis. ]

[ He needs a moment, but then— ]

That's new.

[ A lot of things are new, including the existence of a multiverse and the entirety of the spaceship. What he means is that it's cool. ]

Is it only your hand?

[Rex laughs. Could that reaction have been any more subdued?]

Nah, man. I can do a sword and a hovercycle and a bunch of other cool stuff.

[He laughs again, shaking his head.]
You know, some day I'm going to get used to the people on this ship not reacting with shrieks of terror. But I guess that's what you were asking about in the first place, right?

It is.

[ It's different, a little, he thinks, for someone who can put their differences out of sight so easily—but Rex still gets to stay on his good list. ]

Are people usually afraid of you?

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