[[[[[[MONROE'S NOTES: This log covers two RP sessions, which involved Alec
and Monroe trying to penetrate the defenses of Johnson's mind as erected
by the Technocracy.]]]]]]



Johnson enters from the street.
Johnson has arrived.

Main Room -- Telegraph Hill Custom Clockworks(#2274R)

	This is a small shop, converted out of the front parlor and front
room of the skinny, small brick house that this building used to be. Two
large display cases have been installed, filled with white light and small
pedestals lined with crushed velvet holding watches and clocks of all
description. Pocket watches nestle next to wristwatches and alarm clocks
and desk clocks, ticking and chiming inexorably away. The lighting here is
indirect and soft, a pale yellow that lends the wooden furnishings a
sepia, antique tone, though they all seem to be of modern manufacture. 
	<<+views installed>>

Contents:
Johnson
Obvious exits:
Back Room <BR>  Out <O>

Alec enters from the street.
Alec has arrived.

Monroe is hunched over a ticking piece of clockwork, wide and flat like a
large truck tire, adjusting a lever-action somewhere deep in the depths of
it, with an angular pointed set of forceps. The radio is playing a Lyle
Lovett song about rivers in Texas.

Monroe looks up and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. "Good afternoon,
gentlemen." he says, pleased to see them both.

Alec bursts into the shop with his usual bravado, "Hello, my good friend!
I-- what's that noise?"

Monroe says mildly, "It's this works I am putting together for a church in
Massachusetts."
Monroe gestures to the clockwork.

Johnson has just stepped in, and winces briefly at the choice of music.
"Probabilities suggest that continued exposure to Sound Designate: Country
Music, is likely to result in extensive mutagenic effects similiar to
those found from extreme exposure to Toxic Hazzards."

Alec arches a brow at Johnson. Did he just make a joke? "So /that's/ what
the noise is." Alec looks over at Monroe curiously, "Do you like that kind
of music?"

Johnson retains an absolutely straight face, his voice lacking much of any
inflection. His shades are up as well. Still, it /did/ sort of sound like
a joke.

Monroe tries to get through the jargon, but can't. "I can turn it off if
you would prefer." he says, then nods to Alec. "Yes. This particular song
is 'traditional', meaning I actually know the words." He grins wryly and
reaches behind him to switch it off. The dog raises his head when the
music stops, like that woke him but all the talking didn't.

Alec ahs, nodding, "That explains things, then. Remind me to get you one
of those colloquial dictionaries. You might find it usefull."

Johnson makes a barely audible 'whew' sound, then looks briefly guilty.

Monroe grins and pulls a small 'Pocket Dictionary of Slang' from beneath
the workbench and waves it in a graceful little arc before laying it down.
"I have been learning a great deal. Shall we step into the back room,
gentlemen? We have much to discuss and the coffee should be ready very
soon."

Oooh! Look at Alec's eyes glitter. Something's up! He rubbs his hands like
a child about to recieve a present for being really good and nods
enthusastically, "Yes, yes. Let us go to the back. After you, Johnson."

The dog sniffs a little at Johnson and Alec, hanging his tongue out of his
mouth in lazy insolence. He hauls himself to his feet with a shuddering
motion, unfolding his massive legs and paws beneath him, obviously
intending to accompany Monroe, who gathers up a few neatly-arranged pieces
of papers and opens the door for them.

"John will be fine. Johnson was my Unit designation. I am no longer a
simple machine." A brief pause, and then he nods slightly, and heads in
that direction.

You step through the door into the back room.
Split-Level Apartment -- Telegraph Hill Custom Clockworks(#2367R)

 
 	 This area of the house has been renovated recently, tearing out
the walls that made it into small rooms and replacing them with more space
and better windows, though the actual furnishings are on the sparse side.
A gigantic steamer trunk stands in one corner - a pair of bookshelves are
half-filled, the rest of the books lying in piles nearby. An iron,
zigzagging staircase leads up to the second floor, which has been
converted to a loft bedroom. A large wardrobe stands open there, with
clothes peering out. The kitchen, which occupies one tiled corner of the
apartment, is especially sparse, with hardly an appliance in evidence. A
large wooden work table has been assembled recently and placed to one
side, out of the way of the comfortable-looking chairs and couch near the
west-facing window. 
 	 << +views set >>
Obvious exits:
Out <O>
Johnson enters from the front part of the converted house.
Johnson has arrived.
Alec enters from the front part of the converted house.
Alec has arrived.

Johnson studies the door for a moment, a faint smile crossing his lips for
whatever reason.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-> +view here/door
<--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

	Neatly tacked to the back of the door by four well-placed straight
pens is a single document of pale, almost bleached-white paper with simple
square black hand-lettering:
-------------------------------------

By the President of the United States of America: 
A PROCLAMATION

That on the 1st day of January, A.D. 1863, all persons held as slaves
within any State or designated part of a State the people whereof shall
then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then,
thenceforward, and forever free; and the executive government of the
United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will
recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons and will do no act or
acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make
for their actual freedom.

And by virtue of the power and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and
declare that all persons held as slaves within said designated States and
parts of States are, and henceforward shall be, free; and that the
Executive Government of the United States, including the military and
naval authorities thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of said
persons.
 And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free to abstain
from all violence, unless in necessary self-defence; and I recommend to
them that, in all case when allowed, they labor faithfully for reasonable
wages.

 And I further declare and make known that such persons of suitable
condition will be received into the armed service of the United States to
garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels
of all sorts in said service.

 And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted
by the Constitution upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate
judgment of mankind and the gracious favor of Almighty God.

-------------------------

AMENDMENT THIRTEEN

Section 1. Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a
punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted,
shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their
jurisdiction.

Section 2. Congress shall have power to enforce this article by
appropriate legislation.
--------------------
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--> End: +view here/door
<--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


Monroe closes the door behind them and steps across towards the kitchen
area. At the exact moment the door closes, the coffee machine stops
dripping coffee into the pot and clicks on the heating pad. Decaf,
according to the bag of beans carefully sealed next to the pot. He must
have been expecting Alec, at least. "Please make yourself comfortable." he
says, waving a graceful hand at his small but spotless kitchen table.

Alec chuckles quietly to himself as he walks over to the table and takes a
seat. Man, he's even more upbeat than usual.

Monroe pours three cups of coffee and brings them over with a small
creamer and sugar bowl. The dog sits next to the table, more alert than
you've ever seen him. "How have you been, gentlemen?"

"Fine, fine... quite well," Alec says with a grin, "And you, Monroe?"

Johnson says "Well enough." Johnson says, moving to seat himself. From
within his duster, an item is produced.. A sword kept in a leather sheath,
which he sets to rest against the side of his seat, so it doesn't cause
him difficulty in sitting."

Monroe says easily, "I am very well." He blinks at the sword. "You have
visited my neigbor Mr. Podylak, I presume?" he says quietly.

Alec seems momentarily surprised to see the sword there, but he keeps
quiet about it.

Johnson nods slightly, "I have. It will suffice for the moment. Although I
seek a way to gain access to a forge to begin work on recreation of..
another blade. I have vague memories of doing such, once, and I feel it
would be important."

Alec hesitates a moment then asks curiously, "Uh... what exactly are you
using the sword for, if I may ask?"

The shades are removed, and slid into his pocket, and Johnson regards Alec
mildly. "What are bladed weapons most commonly used for? I dislike guns."

Monroe nods. "A friend of mine from a nearby town is a smith. I have an
agreement with him to use his forge for the casting of some of the parts
for some of my larger works, though my own personal skill is limited. If
you think it is important, I would be happy to put you in contact with
him. It is small and wholly mundane, but should suffice for a single
blade, I think."

Alec flashes another bright grin. "Well, I don't like guns either. Or any
weapon for that matter. I think human energies can be better spend in the
persuit of more civilian applications."

Monroe nods towards the stairs, or the loft above. "I have not swung a
sabre for at least three years, or perhaps a hundred and fifty. One is
among my possessions, however."

Monroe nods agreeably to Alec and explains: "A friend taught me how to
fence because he was tired of beating the same old people over and over.
He needed someone new to defeat, and defeat me he did, roundly, and
regularly, but in good fun."

Alec smiles, rubbing the back of his head absently, "Well, I'm certainly
glad he didn't take your head off with that."

Monroe chuckles. "We were careful to abide by the rules." he says easily.

Monroe turns slightly to Johnson. "Have you had time to consider our offer
to determine the extent and nature of the effects lingering upon your mind
and memory?" he says genially, just another topic for him.

Alec's grin brightens as this topic comes up. No coffee for this hyper
little Son of Ether.



Johnson regards Monroe for a moment. Then Alec. Then back to Monroe. "I
have. You may make your attempt. I suggest one of you retain presence of
mind and concentration enough to deal with potential counterprocedures
that may be laid in wait for such as this."

Monroe nods solemnly. "Actually," he says. "The vast bulk of our device
is...counterprocedures, if I take your meaning correctly. The scan itself
is very simple and un-intrusive as possible. But it is a person we are
dealing with, and not a mechanism, so extra care must be taken."


Johnson nods slowly, "I am as comfortable as possible given the
circumstances I find myself in." A moment of silence, and then in a quiet,
serious voice "While I may at times appear somewhat dubious as to the
nature of your Science, your enthusiasm and willingness to help are a
credit both to yourself, and your Tradition.. Thank you." this comes out
somewhat awkwardly, and Johnson falls silent.



Monroe rises, and yes, actually bows at the waist. "Our efforts may be
poor and ineffective, sir, but conscience demands that we must exert
them." he says easily, but he is pleased by Johnson's statement. He
disappears into the front room for a time and returns, leaning over and
taking out from underneath the workbench a cunningly folded and collapsed
mechanism that starts at about the size and shape of a shelf of
encyclopedias, but by the time it is complete, fills up practically the
entire small space between the workbench and the couch.

It is a surprisingly simple and (perhaps) unsurprisingly elegant machine
that looks like a cross between a stock ticker and a hair dryer. The part
that (presumably) fits on the subject's head is light and well-padded. It
would probably be no more uncomfortable than a light hard hat. It is
studded with pistons and gears, tense with the unreleased power of a wound
spring that is presumably housed in the second part of the machine, again,
simple, elegant lines of pulleys, gearchains and levers connecting the two
with the gleam of copper and chrome and the dull finish of iron and what
looks like mahogany. Several unjointed arms extend, fountain pens clasped
at their ends, hovering over several sheets of thick paper from the other
end of the machine, probably the output of some kind.

Monroe takes the helmet in his hands and gestures slightly to the couch.
He doesn't look overexcited at all, perhaps reassuringly - he looks like
he does this kind of thing every day, as the levers and crankshafts snap
and tick into place as the device settles into quiescence. "John? And
Alec, would you set up the matter inductor?"


Johnson watches the both of you through flat grey eyes, just a hint of
blue at their center. "Yes..?" he questions of Monroe as his name is said,
careful not to move too much while under the device. Not that absolute
stillness seems to be a difficulty for him.

Eyes shining and voice held just barely in check, Alec walks over to the
matter inductor and begins to hook the device up. "Don't worry!" Alec says
cheerily, "You're going to be just fine, John! We've almost tested this
thing twice now!"

Johnson . o O (Almost?)

Monroe adjusts the helmet slightly on Johnson's head and moves towards his
side of the device. "Whenever you are ready, Professor." he says politely.

"One moment!" Alec calls out, flipping a few levers on the device and
issuing a series of loud mechanical clicks. "Ah, here we go. Monroe, would
you be so kind as to plug these leads in to the main unit?" He hands off
two copper wires, one sheathed in red plastic, the other in green.

The helmet feels, as it looked, like a light hard hat. Monroe gently plugs
the two wires into a complicated gearbox on the side of the machine.
"Ready? And now." he says, flipping a switch. When the device is
activated, there is a slight jerk, like someone had thwapped Johnson
gently upside the head with a flyswatter, but that's all. Monroe looks
pleased and twists a red handle 180 degrees and pulls it out with a THUNK.
The device rattles and clatters and whirrs and clanks, but then falls into
silence, as if the vibrations and sounds cancelled out. "Going to flywheel
two." Monroe says, and there is a click, and a crackling, constant
tuneless tinkle of sound from the base of the machine like a music box
tuned between stations.

Alec pours over some kind of ticker-tape and nods, "Everything looks good.
All paterns and vibratory energies are normal." He flips a few minute
switches, eliciting a wheezing, groaning noise from ticker-tape device,
"Ah! Good. Everything looks peachy, Monroe! Go ahead and proceed to Stage
Three."

Monroe nods slightly. "Stage three now." he says, tilting a lever from
ALEPH to REVERSE. Almost instantly a tinny, staticky voice comes out of
the music box: "Login please." it says politely. 

Monroe grins. "Ha!" he says. "The reading is 412, the angle is seven point
four radians." He punches a few round keys that look like typewriter keys.
"Quickly, Alec." he says crisply. The pens skitter across the paper,
scratching and scribbling.

"Right! Right! I got it!" Alec responds, punching a few buttons that look
like they were taken off of one of those Disney speak-n-spell things. He
then scurries over and adjusts one of the dials minutely, "There we go,
that should clear up the picture a bit. Getting anything?"

Meanwhile, Johnson sits there, like some impossibly calm lab rat, only his
eyes moving as he follows the incomprehensible arcane Science of the
Etherites.

Monroe nods, peering over at the pens. "Perfect." he says, just as the
music box says "Eezlp niggle." Monroe laughs a little and points a finger
at where the voice came from. "Perfect." he says. He leans over and makes
a small red circle on something on the paper. "And the ancillaries." he
says, flicking a few last switches. CLATTERCLATTERCLATTERCLATTER, like a
pulley lowering something heavy. An even ticking like a pendulum. And then
it's over. "Wonderful." he says firmly.

Alec is almost bursting with excitement, "What did you get? What did you
get?"

You say "Johnson...you can remove the helmet now."

<OOC> Monroe says "I've got Entropy, Forces, and Mind covered. Alec has
Matter 2 so he can get a little more detail. We've got optional
Correspondence 2 in case your Primium skull blocks us, and we've got
optional Time 2 in case we set something off, we can know not to do that.
(That's what the login thing was.)"

<OOC> Johnson says "You've also got Spirit 1 now, remember, Monroe. :)
Okay.. Corr 2 won't help much and would just make things more difficult.
Primium forms a barrier on all mystical levels, i.e. corring into an area
surrounded by primium is still going to be partially blocked by it, just
like anything else. In terms of the rest.. gimmie a sec."

<OOC> Monroe says "Okay."

<OOC> Monroe got Spirit 1 well after he started work on this. We may have
to scan you again depending on what we find.

<OOC> Monroe says "(We can do that off-screen.One crazy machine is enough
for a few yuks.)"

<OOC> Johnson says "Okay.. I'll give you the OOCly objective facts
determined, and you two can determine how your readouts and such would
interpret. Paging respective peoples."

<OOC> Monroe says "Cool."

<OOC> Alec says "Sounds great to me!"

Johnson pages: There's considerable resistance to your attempts, for one.
Your devices had to push past what amounts to immense amounts of static
and interferance before you could get anything resembling readable
results. You can glean that any more powerful working would be even more
difficult, as the interferance seems to come from Johnson himself, or
rather, his physical form. In terms of Entropy, Forces, and Mind: A
complex matrix of woven Force is bonded to the very fabric of his mental
patterns. You lack Life, so it's as if you're seeing only half the
equation, but you can determine that there's some quasi-physical
distortion of mental patterns, something immensly dangerous. OOC: His Mind
patterns have been locked away not with Mind 4, but with Force impulses in
precise, impossibly well calculated (It-X work) repetition, mimicing
bioelectrical impulses through the brain. However.. Entropy reveals a
problem. It /should/ be perfectly structured, linear and from A to B.
However, the energy impulses that lock away his thoughts seem almost
random. There's no decipherable pattern, and the whole thing has a
distinct air of chaotic fingerprints to it.

You paged Johnson with 'Perhaps the memory thing was originally a
patterned thing and then it got screwed with by something entropic. Okay,
I can give plenty of theories about this.'.


Monroe picks up the papers. At first it looks like just a scribbled mess -
but then the pattern appears - numbers and words connected by lines. To a
computer scientist it might look like a neural network map. To a Hermetic,
it might be the skeleton framework of a hierarchy of a command replete
with subclauses and exceptions, but to Monroe? "The mechanism, exposed."
he says proudly. "And a fine little puzzle-box it is, too. You see here
where the observations that led to the inner structure are protected by
the electrical fluid patterns..."

From afar, Johnson nodders: On a note, it's not like decay entropy. Chaos
entropy.

Johnson quirks a brow slightly and simply watches.

You paged Johnson with 'Right o.'.


Alec gleefully looks over Monroe's shoulder. As he peers forth, his
expression changes from one of immense curiousity to mild confusion,
"Well... this is odd. Monroe, did you see that? Correct me if I'm wrong,
but it seems that the coordinates referencing John's memory lapse don't
corespond with the main computer unit." He grins brightly, "Wow! I have to
hand it to the Iterators... they sure built him to last."

Monroe frowns to Alec. "I do not think they built him at all." he says
firmly. "Only latched his mind in chains of force. Look here, and here.
It's not even an effect on his mental mechanisms - it's directly using
patterns of electric fluid upon his nerves, from what I can see."

Johnson frowns faintly as he assimilates this. "I was altered, not built."
he says absently, a distracted correction as he continues watching the two
of you, eyes more blue now.

"I was speaking figuratively," Alec says, "I mean... look. Over half of
him is mechanically augmented in some way. Right down to the cellular
level! Still... at least it seems from this scan that the chip inside his
head isn't what's causing the memory block."

Monroe nods. "The memory problem might be easier to solve than determining
the other effects on him. It appears to be separate." he says. "Unless I
am missing something..." He rubs his chin, concentrating.

Alec hmms, nodding, "May, Monroe... you see the Etheric energies in the
metal that is inside the majority of his bone structure? Have you seen
anything like it? The pattern is very odd, indeed. Pity we can't take a
sample for analysis."

Monroe nods. "I see your results. I imagine it is similar to this sample,
though my understanding of it is limited." He takes his pocketwatch out of
his pocket, and attached to the chain very near the fob is a small
golden-hued metal claw.

Johnson quirks a brow slightly. "The 'other effects' cannot be solved with
anything resembling efficiency. My biological processes are bonded to the
biomechanical additions. I cannot survive without their augmentation, for
more than a few hours. Organic replacements would not suffice any longer."

Alec looks over at Johnson and flashes a bright grin, "Well, you never
know. Anything is possible with Science!" He lifts up the watch chain and
examines it curiously, "Monroe, would you mind if I took this and ran a
few tests on it?"

Monroe nods a little distractedly, which is why he sounds a bit brisk when
he says "Yes, yes, of course. I was referring to the breakdowns in the
patterns extended across the memory structure. You see? Chaotic." he says,
slightly distastefully. "It is as if some of the patterns had been broken
down but not others."

Johnson frowns further as he listens. "That is troubling. The Iteration-X
Process should not be susceptable to conventional entropic decay or
randomization."

Monroe nods, pondering. "There are any number of explanations, some of
then perfectly natural. But the description of your origin and the
messages you bore indicate to me that this is even more unlikely than
usual." he says.

Alec hmms curiously, "Well... it could mean that whoever broke you out of
their bonds must have been very skilled at Entropy, then... but, quite
clearly, they didn't know enough about the Iteration structure to do so
efficently. Thus the chaotic patterns."

Monroe says easily, "Or they didn't want the patterns to recur, and left
their own. Or they inadvertently left them, as a fingerprint or a
lingering odor..."

Johnson's brows furrow as he thinks on this. "Possible." he admits to
Alec, then looks to Monroe, "You said they were Force patterns. Would it
be possible for you to replicate the patterns involved into a three
dimensional visual representation, without my body or mental patterns
attached? Sort of a pseudo-diagram in 3d?"

Monroe nods. "Yes, that would be a helpful representation, wouldn't it?"
he says. "Several sheets of paper are unwieldy indeed."

Johnson says "Given a computer and the appropriate data I could work one
into a computer, but I do not have one handy other than that in my head."

Monroe nods. "I've got my computer finally, but I haven't unpacked it yet.
That won't be necessary, though. A physical model will be more reliable in
any case."

Alec grins at Monroe, "Tell that to a Virtual Adept."

Johnson tilts a brow slightly, again. "Computers are very reliable." A
brief pause as he glances at Alec, then back to Monroe, and he looks
almost sheepish.

Monroe grins. "They are very reliable, given a constant power source and
consistent innards. I am almost confident of the first, though not the
second. A physical model requires only eyes to see and a mind to
apprehend. I shall start on it immediately." he says.

Johnson nods to Monroe slowly, "Of course.." a brow quirks somewhat. "What
will you make the model of?"

Monroe says solemnly, "Wire and angle-joints. It should aid in
visualization immensely."

Johnson nods thoughtfully, rubbing the bridge of his nose, then
questioning "Ah.. Can I extract myself now..?" He glances up as if trying
to peer at the mechanism.

You say "Oh, yes, yes, of course. I did say that earlier."

Monroe helps Johnson off with his helmet and puts it gingerly on the
device.

Johnson rises, sliding his sword back under his duster. "A somewhat
ominous feeling mechanism." he pauses, considering, then says "When do you
believe you will have the visualization ready? I should check on some
things."

Monroe says easily, "This afternoon, I hope."