[Guess who totally refuses to take off his long-sleeve shirt? This nerd. He can't handle people looking at his scrawny bod, okay. His self-confidence is at an all-time low in terms of physical prowess. Leave him alone. More importantly, he's covered in dirt from the gardens and is a sweaty mess -- a mix of weed smell and Ferngully, or something, with a doofy bandana tied around his forehead like he's an 80's break dancer or something. He sighs out a big dumb breath.

Also this is playing in the background from his mostly-fixed CD player. No regrets.]

Gardening's fuckin haaard, guys. Maybe it's just the heat talking, but damn.

But -- I think I got it. I think I'm getting this shit down pat. Soon, I'll be done with phase 1, and then I'll finally be able to harness the power of the ye' olde Space Potato. Marty's Potato Chips'll be a bigger hit than -- okay, no, sorry. I know I overdo the marijuana jokes. Whatever. Point is, I think gardening and making stupid junk food might be my life's calling. Anybody have any ideas for other foods from home we're all desperately missing? What kinds of food supplies do we have around here, anyway? We got blueberries; I made some bitchin' sorbet, which is plenty close to ice cream. 

We're learning. Adapting. Getting faster, better, stronger. Sure, this place sucks on many occasions, but at least we can sit around in trepidation with munchie foods. 

...

Who's gonna be my guinea pig for potato chip flavors? 

Also, Topher [that guy below him in the network posts who has his face and vice versa; hi topher] just reminded me, weird shit's been going on here this jump, too. Anybody else been getting creeper vibes from things in the halls? I mean, maybe I'm missing out because I hide under my blankets and shake my head until things aren't creepy, but I think the ship's fucking around again. 

...

Beyond the usual heatstroke or frostbite issue.

...

Also sorry about Topher's intensity, newbies. He's the mad scientist one between the two of us.

 [Welcome back to Conspiracy Theory Hour with Topher Brink, who is currently in medical wearing a parka. He is the worst Stark Bannerman ever.]

When Bennett Halverson was here [he has to swallow a bit, because having Bennett here, however awkward it might have been, was nice and he misses her], we got into our brains to do some research on the nanites. It... didn't get too far, because the problem with these little beasties is they're everywhere and they kinda control how we get in and out of places and, personally? I don't wanna sleep in the hallway. But the fact is, we don't know a whole lot about them and we can't crack 'em without being worried that they're gonna... do something weird or explode our brains. And that's bad on numerous levels.

And I didn't realize until just now how bad. 

Let's think for a second. We've got the whole memory share business with each other, which is now, apparently, extending into memory share with the old crew. We know for a fact the nanites are deeply ingrained into the brain's thought processes. Think about it, guys- when you sign on to become a member of one of our lovely teams, do you go out and get a new tattoo with that shiny three letter badge of honor or do you fall asleep and wake up with it permanently stamped to your arm. [He holds up his own, showcasing his MED « 002 « 195 tattoo.] 'Cause I think I woulda remembered the tattooing process- I'm just saying.

[He sucks in a breath.] So the nanites know the difference between idly thinking "Hey, I'm in medical" versus "I am really and truly in medical." That means they're receiving data from the brain. We already know they can transmit it, because that's how we get around here. It's like any good computer, but here's the thing. We don't- and kinda can't for the aforementioned brain asplode reasons- know how much data these things are actually getting off of us. 

[He rolls his chair over to his computer.] And-and the thing is, all the nanites operate on the same network. Receiving, transmitting, whatever- we're all connected through them- so what if the memory links were a nanite malfunction. What if we saw a little glimpse behind the curtain of what's really going on here. Remember that line from the subnetwork? "It wants to keep you?" I know you remember that if you were for it, 'cause I still have nightmares about it. 

[A bitter, manic laugh.]

You can't delete a program- not really. If these nanites were in the original crew- doing their whole receiving and transmitting thing, then whatever they got off of them is still here. Floating around in the ether. Guys, what if we've been approaching this whole Smiley thing from the wrong perspective. Smiley's not one guy or an AI or Gallagher's freakin' ghost- Smiley is everyone. The whole crew. A literal ghost in the machine- the collective memories, feelings, whatever, of the entire former crew that somehow merged to create this one... composite. We die? We'll still be here. Floating around with the old crew. Boom. Prophecy fulfilled or whatever you wanna say.

[Basically, Smiley is a composite event without a host body or complete personalities. Just fragments. It makes a lot of sense to someone who has seen some shit. It's the only thing that can make sense. The ship's crew is just... gone, but they're still here.]

I mean... People have seen Smiley act outside the ship, right? And the only thing we bring with us when we leave the ship are our nanites. There's gotta be something to that, right?

[ It's all just black. For a few seconds.

And then there's suddenly an all encompassing flash of yellow light, filtered through fabric, followed by some muffled grumbling.

YUP. Somebody's done a butt dial. More like a pocket dial, but whatever. And it all goes back to black for a couple more seconds before it happens all over again, a distinctive crackling added to the soundtrack along with a 'shit!', the light turning an ambient orange as it flickers angrily.

.. Hey. You. Stop guessing that someone is a pyro. Because he isn't.

After another second, Peter goes for his comm with the intention of- oh. Double shit. That would be some awkward staring right there ]

Sorry. [ awkward… ] Wasn't trying to give anyone a show. Or anything at all, I'll just- [ but he hesitates before cutting the feed, brows furrowing by way of sudden light-bulb inducing ideas. ]

Is anyone maybe interested in doing a little trial and error experimentation? I promise that you won't die in the process or anything and the worst that'll go wrong is you'll need an... injection at the end of the day. Sounds worse than it is. It'll even end up making you feel better than when you even agreed to help. [ Because someone’ll totally agree to help after that little intro. He clears his throat, starting somewhere else. ]

But if you know anything about physics or... or radiation. On how to just control atoms? The atoms that make up anything in particular. [ God he's going so far out on a rope right now it's not even funny. In fact, it's making him cringe. ] Especially someone with an ability where you can control an element... more than just use it, but manipulate all the parts that make it up. On it's actual atomic level- I could use the help. The science behind it's a little above me, but if you've got your ability fine tuned all the way down to a molecular level.

I could use your help?