[ the connection turns on, abruptly and out of focus. the video is turned down at the floor but then it's up, whirling around in blurs of colors from her room before settling on teresa's face. her gaze is wide and worn, she looks tired. her neck is strained as if swallowing is difficult. ]

Okay. Tell me it's not just me. I'm seeing numbers — I mean, I was — like scratched into the wall. At first I thought they were just letters, but I think they could've been Roman numerals. Fifty-six. Or something. I couldn't look at it very long, I couldn't even record it. I — ugh!

Is anyone else seeing this? It's driving me crazy, I swear they were there. Someone better not be messing with me.

[ she's trying to work this out logically (find a code), like everything else since she arrived, but she's reaching a tipping point. ]

I don't know what it means. But if you're seeing the same thing, tell me. Maybe we can work it out. It's just —

[ she holds the communicator tightly in one hand, raking her black hair back with the other as she looks off into the corner of her room. the damage is still there, reminding her. ]

Well, the good news is my room isn't a freezer anymore.

[ lydia is sitting on her bed fiddling with what looks like a leash that isn't attached to the dog it's normally attached to. it almost looks like she's not paying attention to the feed being on before she looks up and smiles a tight sort of smile. ]

Assuming that more than just one or two people made it back from that really ill-advised trip to the bridge, I don't feel bad asking you all this question instead of crying about people dying. [ the smile becomes a little tighter then, like she already had cried before the jump. after a shake of her head it's gone like it was never there in the first place. ] Say you have powers at home and on this ship and they were working perfectly fine when you were at home and when you found your way on this ship.

[ she pauses, like she has to figure out how to word the rest of what she's saying before she continues. ]

Has anyone had their powers go from working perfectly fine on this ship to not working perfectly fine? Maybe even working in ways that are not even remotely how they're supposed to work in the slightest. I mean, it's a little weird and I'm looking for some perspective. Or a base to compare something to. [ she hastily adds: ] I'm not asking because of me. Mine— I'm just not asking because of me.

{Petrelli had suggested they record their goodbyes, but histrionics have never been her thing. If she's dying here, she's at least going to be damn sure someone can get some use out of it. The message is riddled with static, but where it isn't her tone is firm.]

You all know most of this already, but this is a report for anyone who wants the full details in addition to the new passengers who will arrive during the next jump: six days ago, sixteen passengers including myself a͠͏̶̀t̵̛͝t̵̸̛̀͏e̢̨̛͜͝ḿ̨̀͢͡p̶̡̧͜͜t̴́͠e̵d̶̡͘͟ ̷̀͜͞t̷͢͟o̸͡ ̷͘t̷͠a҉͠҉̵k̵͞͝͡ȩ̶̀̕͠ ̵̵p̕͡҉̴̶ơ͏̸͜s̸̨̧̧s̨͞e̷̴͟͡͞ś͞s̶̷͏̵í̢̨͘͞o̡͢͟ń̛͟͞͠ ̴̨̡̀͘o̷͠͠f̶̨͟ the bridge. We successfully accessed the deck, though the door sealed behind us. While on the bridge, we were unable to bypass the security encryption on the ship's controls; we also weren't able to determine if that was the doing o̶̶̧̡͡f̸̧͞͠ ̴҉҉͟͡ą̷͡͡͠ ̧̀͜͝t̕͝h͏̶̧͝i̸̡͜͝ŗ͟d̛̀͜ ̵͢͜͡ṕą̶̡r̢͞҉̷͡t̨͜ỳ̛͠ ̵ó̵̀r͟҉͠ ̸̶̨̕͠a̸̧͢ ̷͡f̸́͡l̢̛͢͠a̸͜w̧͢͟͠ in the system. [Though from the edge in her voice, it's pretty clear her money's on the former.]

Approximately-- [a moment of hesitation, because she's not even sure if this is close to accurate] --three days after being sealed on the deck, the state of the bridge had become n͏o̢͝͞t̵̶i̸̢͞c̀͏̕e̕͠a̷̷̛͘͡b҉̡́͝l̴̴̀͞y̶͟ ̕d̡͘͢ȩ͡t́͘e̡r͡͏̸̕҉i͏͏̴̀̕o̧͞҉r̢͞a̶̛t̡͝ę̶̶̧͜d̷̸̢́͠. Approximately four days after, passengers on the bridge b̷e͘͠g̵̨͢͢a̴̴̧̧̨n̡͡ ͏̛͟t̸̀́͘͟ǫ̀ ̛̕͠e͡҉x̸̀͡p̧̕͟͝e̡͜r͜͟i͢͏̴́ȩ͢͡͞͠ņ̶̢́̕c̷̷̨͞e̵͡ ̷͠p̸̵̡̡͝h͘͏̸̕y̸͏̴̶̛s̵̨͘i̷̢̧͢c̸͏̶͢͟a͏̧ļ͝ and visual d̸̡͞i̷͠s̴͜͠͏t̨͘ų̴̛̀r͘͠b̢a̶͢͜͡͡n̷̸̕ć̷è̢͡ś̷̨ ̷̨͢í͏ņ͟ć̢͘͠͡ĺ̸̛͝u͘͞d̵̨͘͟i͏͢͡ǹ̶̡ģ̛͠͡ murals similar to the ones seen elsewhere on the ship. The deterioration of the bridge seems to have been real, or at least a shared hallucination. The rest came and went at random intervals.

I can't guarantee that a second attempt to access the bridge would result in the same, but my official recommendation would be to avoid it until someone installs an escape hatch or puts together a p̧ŕ̴͜͠o̕͡g̷̸̷͠r̶҉͢a̵̸̡͜͞m̴̴̕͝ ̸̨̛͢t̷̨͞h̛̛͏҉̨a̛͡t̡̛͟ ̛͡͝c̡͜͏̵a̶̶̧͞͞n̶̢̕ ̸́b̵̴͠y͟p̷̧͜҉a̵̡s̴͏̸̛ş̢̨͘͟ ̴̶̨͡͞t̛̕͏̡h̵̢e̴̢̡͞ ̕͢͟s̶͢e̛͟͜c͘͠u͢r̵͘͘i̶̧͡t҉y͟͡͞ encryption. I'd also suggest a distraction somewhere else on the off chance that we're being d̶̵̀͢e̵̡͡͝͝t̴͞a̢̕͠ì҉̸̧n̛͞e̴̶d̵̶ ͘͘͠͏h̵̡e҉̸́ŗ̵҉e̶̷͞ ̷̴͢b̧̛y̧͘͡͝ a crew member and not a rogue a̶r̀́͜͡t̵̕i̴̵̛͞f҉̢i͢͜c̶̨í̵̕a̵̵̧l̴̵͏ ̨̕̕̕i̵̴n̵͞͡҉t̷́҉̶̢e̶l̢̀l̨̨͞҉i̕͝g̀͞҉͞͞e̵n̷̨̨̛c̛҉̀é̶́͢ ̶̵́̕͘i̸̷͘͢͝n҉̨ the ship itself.

[Speaking of AI--] Topher, since I have Juliana in here with me, you might want to consider the possibility of finding someone else with her expertise.

If there's anything I can clarify before the jump, ask. I'll do my best t̵̨̀̕͜ó̷͝ ̵̡̨g̨͠e̵͘t̷́͜ ̸̡͟͞a̷̡̢̛͡n̡̕͞s̸̷̢ẁ̢͝e͡҉̛̕r̛̀̀̀͡s̷̕͟͝ through.

[Which is all there is that's really worth saying though instead of cutting the feed entirely, she pauses. There's a hiss of static or an intake of breath. Javik is here with her, but Garrus, Joker, Tali--]

Good luck. The next time you see me, [some version of her, or him or however it works] I e̷͞x̶̷̛̛͟ṕ͜e͘͟c͏̷t̵͢ ̴̢͟͜a̷͢ ̷̸̡͏͘b̶̕͝͡͠ó̵̡̀͘t͏͠t̨̀͝͏̧l̛͠e͜҉̶҉͜ of ryncol.

[ Static. Bleary audio. This video had been intended for privacy and instead blares across the open network like a tiny digital blizzard of interference. It would be easy to scroll by, even when a voice, distinct to those that already know it, manages to cut through-- ]

--if you aren't asleep. I don't actually know what time it is, so you'll have to forgive me.

[ And there, through the static snow, Charles can be seen, and he has his communicator raised level. He is seated, likely on the floor, head rested back against a wall, and underslept, unkempt. He does not wear grim well, and even through visual static, there are signifiers of stress -- his jawline is haughty and tight, tense around the mouth, eyes half-hooded as he considers his communicator and darts a look, now and then, past it, at everyone else.

Or whatever else.

He swallows. ]

There isn't a lot of hope to go around, so perhaps you have some in reserve. Even if it's kept filed under the notion that even I couldn't be this bloody foolish. [ A crookedish smile at the end of that. Quick to wane. ] I've only just gotten through on this machine, so I hope you receive-- this. I can't keep in touch the usual way, in here, I'm sure you've noticed. It wasn't personal.

Regardless. Your turn, I believe. I could use the company.

[ Aaand end transmission. ]

 [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?

[There's a fleeting glimpse of this guy - bare shoulders, wet, wildly uneven hair, grouchy face still pale and a little shocked - before the screen jumbles around, finally landing on one hell of a mess strewn across the 002 bathroom counter. What used to be the mirror over the sink is now the mirror in the sink. And on the counter. And across the floor. And - broken glass is everywhere, really, interspersed with shorn tufts of hair and a scattered array of clippers and product.

Not that Netherlands is here to talk about hair. When he speaks it's low and careful, measuring out his words as he goes.]

Has, uh -

Wanna know if anyone else has broken one-a these things. It's... weird.

[…

…

just dead air and a stationary view of the wreckage for a few seconds, then he clears his throat and flips the video off.





Aaaaand about thirty seconds later flips it on again, just voice this time, all business.]

Gardens are always hiring. An' come talk to me, if you smoke. Can set something up.

[Because if he's gonna bother to post to the network he might as well make it useful, right. PRIORITIES. He's your grumpy neighborhood agriculture-head-slash-smokeables-dealer. Impromptu advertisement complete, he ends the feed for good.]

[ooc: dude broke the mirror. also threadjacking is a+ recommended]

[ after the jump teresa expected things to make more sense, like something would reveal itself, but it hasn't. if anything it poses more questions than answers. there seems to be only one place to go for that. nothing else to lose at this point. (she'd been meaning to ask earlier anyway.)

with soft black hair falling around tensed-up shoulders and pale skin glowing in contrast, she looks into the recording. her face doesn't display much emotion besides a tired concentration and slight quiver to her lip. it's been a long few days, but she does her best to hide it. ]

So, it's like going from one creepy experiment to the next. Ever thought that maybe that's what this place is? A test? A code to be deciphered? From it seems like, every month something horrible happens. Couldn't those all be variables we're supposed to respond to a certain way? Things probably won't change until we do.

[ right or wrong, teresa speaks from experience, so she sounds confident about this theory. she looks like she wants to ask a million more questions, but she stops her theorizing there. ]

Anyway, I'm Teresa. New-ish. I know we're sick of hearing about the temperature, but I'm not the only one whose room is freezing, right? I thought the heat was bad before, but no. This is actually worse. I could use a jacket or something if anyone has some extra clothes I can borrow.

[ because she would really like to go to bed and not wake up with hypothermia. ]

[ katniss is new, or at least, this version of katniss is new, but she's heard people saying that soon the alarms will sound for the "jump". she remembers the last "jump", the one that dumped her here, and she doesn't really want to relive it. ]

Why do we have to get back into those pods?

[ katniss is wary about questioning the way things are here, when she's still not sure this isn't just some kind of arena. but she also doesn't really know how to do one-on-one transmissions, or private lock something, and she's a little slower at texting than she'd really like, so a question she might normally just ask haymitch is addressed to the network as a whole. ]

Some people are still in them from the last time. What happens if even less people wake up?

[ overall, she's against it. ]