103.7 - ain't nothin' goin' on but this sound man (backdated to Monday)

[hard_talker]

[Leonard Cohen's voice drifts out over the airwaves for a little while - and out through open journals, for those who didn't get radios, this past Christmas, of course. after the first verse or so, the track fades out, and Mark pipes up, at ten on the dot, as usual.]

So, who's out there tonight in the wide world of Wonderfuck? Any of you still got an ear open for your pal Hard Harry? I know I've at least got a few new listeners: Arthur, Dave, Genis, Justinia, Dean, and Mufasa. As for the rest of you all? I still love ya, I really do. Think of it like ... oh, like when that weird uncle of yours threw you in the deep end of the pool even when you said you didn't want to. Or called you stupid names before you were old enough to get that he was so emotionally fuckin' stunted that that was the only way he could tell you he cared. Sometimes I just gotta be a dick, you know? And I'm not the only one. We've all been there. Search your feelings, you know it to be true.

Tell you what, if anyone still has any hurt feelings about last week, drop me a line and I'll have the ghosts send you an air freshener. You get a choice between Royal Pine, New Car, and Vanilla. Just remember, kids ... air fresheners only cover up the bad smell. The source of the stench is still somewhere underneath. ... While you all think about that... I'll just let the tunes roll, shall I? We got a little somethin' for everyone, tonight...

Comments

[silentrunning]

[And as usual, Chell's listening, curled up on the floor with her journal. She had a thought or two about last week. So she decides to voice that. Picking up a brown crayon she writes:]

Dear Harry,

I thought last week was fun. Can we do that again some time? With less fire? Stomping on flaming bags of manure is fun.

[Now is she being serious? Or sarcastic?]

[hard_talker]

Hey, Chell. [he dictates back, grinning as her familiar scrawl shows up] You want some more stuff to stomp on, I can definitely hook you up. You ever seen bubble wrap?

[silentrunning]

[Bubble wrap? She is confused. She stares at the journal in utter complete confusion before writing...]

Bubble wrap? What is that? No, I have not seen it.

[But make no mistake, she is one intrigued former test subject.]

[hard_talker]

Well, then! Let's fix that, shall we?

[a moment later there's a knock at her door, and a friendly castle ghost deposits a large box with a note taped to it in Mark's handwriting: HAPPY STOMPING.

inside is a very large roll of bubble wrap - the kind with large, fat bubbles that make loud, satisfying popping noises when stomped on]

[silentrunning]

Mark Hunter, you have created a monster. Seriously you have. Chell opens the box, peering at it intrigued, wondering what it is. She experimentally pokes at a bubble. It, of course, as most bubbles do, pops. Chell darts to hide for a minute before realizing what Mark had said about being good for stomping...And she proceeds to as best she can spread this giant enormous roll of bubble wrap out over her entire floor, leaving just enough space to stand.

She leans down, fully intending to jump and crashland in the middle of the roll, but something very... odd happens. She crouches down, intending to... do something. But what was it? She feels like her mind has just gone blank.

Slowly she stands up, thoughtfully concerned for a moment. What had she intended to do? OH yes! Stomp the roll!

And the journal, thankfully rescued from the floor before she started unrolling her gift, records the wonderful sounds of popping all throughout the journals. It is loud. And probably sounds like machine gun fire. Enjoy that, Paradisa.]

[OOC: Congrats Mark. You introduced Chell to not only the joys of bubble wrap but also her castle loss. All in one go!]

[hard_talker]

[he laughs as the sound comes drifting over the journal.... Hooray for corrupting the not so innocent!]

[silentrunning]

[Yes Mark. Laugh. Because you likely will not be getting any sleep any time soon. Haha. Chell's enjoying herself so much. Soooo much. And now that Harry's broadcast isn't going on, she writes a message back.]

Thank you, Markhunter. You give good gifts.

[hard_talker]

Hey, anytime. Sounds like you had yourself one helluva ball, there. ... Where're you from, anyway? [she asks an awful lot of questions about stuff, after all]

[silentrunning]

[Chell writes back with the only designation she knows.]

I am a test subject of Aperture Science. I do not know the place name for the city/state anymore, as I was there from when I was very very young. I think the place was called MI. The planet was Earth. They had no bubble wrap there. But then, that would have been fun, and tests are not about fun.

[She's intrigued. He's an observant fellow. And friendly enough to send bubble wrap her way. That deserves an honest answer.]

[hard_talker]

A test subject?! Jesus Christ. [when she was talking about tests before, that was not the kind he thought she meant].... Is that why you can't talk?

[silentrunning]

[Chell grins at her journal.]

But I can talk. I just haven't for many years, because in there I was constantly taunted, and the only thing at all that I could control even a little was whether I spoke or not. But sometimes... sometimes I would like to say hello to people, even though my voice probably would sound bad. Because this is not the testing facility, after all.

[Mark's inadvertently given her something to think about. Even if she talked, she'd likely never be very loud or talkative. But maybe there could some day be a reason to talk to people here.

That's an odd thought, one that almost makes her recoil. What would she say if she DID talk?

[hard_talker]

[reading that over twice, now, to make sure he read it right. damn.]

... But why would you stop talking? Your voice is the most important weapon you've got to make a change ...

[silentrunning]

[Chell sits there on the floor for a minute, thinking about what he'd said. Her voice was her most important weapon she had to make a change? Was this really true? Slowly she picked up her pen to write back.]

The only person in the facility other than me was the one doing the testing. She wanted me to talk. She wanted to know how much she got to me. She wanted to break me, but I don't break so easy as that. But you know what, Markhunter? Maybe you're right. Maybe you've got a good point. Maybe my voice means something.

[ Then she lays down her pen, leans her face against the journal and digs up every reserve of courage she has... The voice that comes across Mark's journal is raspy, barely a whisper, and halting at best.]

But... I... want... change.

[Her hands are shaking so hard she almost drops the journal. Hearing her own voice, after so many years was very jarring. She'd not spoken since she was a very little girl, and the voice coming out of her mouth sounded nothing at all like the wispy fragments she remembered. She gritted her teeth and straightened her shoulders, shoving down the fear like she had for so many years in the facility. She likely would not ever talk much. But at least now she knew for sure she still could. But she wasn't at all sure Markhunter could even hear her with as soft as her voice had been.]

[hard_talker]

[he's still reading, when she speaks ... and he gasps. the sound of it literally takes his breath away, and boots his heart up into his throat. for a moment, it's as though she stole his voice to find her own, because he just sits there, catching his breath, everything behind those four words hitting him like a fleet of FCC vans.

how much it must have taken for her to even try to speak, after so long - the strength she gained from the tests, weighed against her fear and her hatred for that person she mentioned, from Aperture ... he knows what it means to be afraid to use your voice, to be frightened of the potential power of your own words.

when he finally does find his voice, his breath comes out in a shaky sigh that's half a laugh]

Sounds good to me. ... Sounds great.

[silentrunning]

[Chell's smiling through the fear, and through a couple tears standing in the corners of her eyes. In a way, he's liberated her from that place, from the control of that person she both hates and loves because for so long that voice had been the only one she was allowed to hear.

Picking up her pen in a hand that is still shaking violently, she writes again, not sure if she could even vocalize the words she wanted.]

Thank you for what you do, Markhunter. For all of what you do. And never forget that your words mean something, and that they are important. You may not be able to change the minds of all the people here, you may not be able to make them see, but I will be your...

[She breaks off for a minute, looking for a word. She doesn't know what the word friend really means, she's heard it somewhere though. But there is a word she remembers that might work.]

I will be your ally. And if you ever need help shaking up the Castle, let me know. I would help in a heartbeat.

And thank you so much for helping me find the courage to find my voice.

[Yeah, Mark. She's got your back. Solidly.]

[hard_talker]

[he's grinning from ear-to-ear now, still in awe. he shakes his head slowly, picks up his pen, and writes back]

You were my ally before you even opened your mouth, Chell. Now you're my friend. And that's a lot more important.

[silentrunning]

[Chell smiles. GLaDOS told her once, here actually, that friendship was a positive thing, not a negative thing like she'd thought when the AI had used that word on her back in the facility. So she thought Markhunter's words over very very carefully. He was extending THAT... to HER? Her eyes got the size of quarters as she stared down at the words on her journal page. And when she wrote back her words were emphatic.]

I will be your friend, Markhunter. But... you may have to teach me. I never learned.
[Chell's the happiest person alive right now. Finally she has a friend from whom she doesn't have to expect ulterior motives.]

[hard_talker]

See, that's the greatest thing about friendship. You don't hafta learn anything. All you need to do is be yourself.

[silentrunning]

[Chell thinks about that for a minute. And then she realizes, and the truth dawns on her. Her pen skitters across the page.]

I almost wrote that I am not sure I can do that, as to be one's self one must know who they are. But that isn't exactly true. I think I am myself just by existing, by living, by breathing, by fighting this...

[She pauses to think. What was that nickname he always used for this place]

...This Wonderfuck who wishes to keep us here against our wills.

[hard_talker]

That's exactly how it works. [he laughs, grinning from ear to ear] Exactly. And you know what the real kicker of it all is? I think this place helps you figure that out, even as it's tryin' to wreck you.

[jammin_with_ed]

Air freshener?

[hard_talker]

Yep, they're these little cardboard things you hang on stuff to make it smell... Different. I wouldn't always say "better".

[jammin_with_ed]

Cardboard smelly hanging stuff? Edward wants to see!

[hard_talker]

Arrighty, comin' right up, then! [this is apparently The Week That Mark Sends People Things, because soon enough there's a ghost at her door with ... kind of a great big box full of them. one of each kind. he's kind of feeling feisty tonight, can you tell?]

[jammin_with_ed]

[She opens the door and squeals with joy.]

Present for Edward!!

[All the joy as she dances around her room with it before plopping it down and tearing it open.]

Ooooo lots of smeeeeeells.

[hard_talker]

Yeah, some of 'em are pretty gross, though. Don't stick your face right in'm.

[jammin_with_ed]

[Too late. Cue a 13 year old hacker having a sneezing fit

brb]

[hard_talker]

[whoops. sounding pretty much amused as hell:] You, uh ... might wanna open a window, if you feel like actually listenin' to me now.

[jammin_with_ed]

[She sneezes a few more times, sounding like she falls over in the process]

Too many smells too many smells! [she giggles]

[hard_talker]

[the giggling is infectious. he laughs] Hey, I told'ja, didn't I? Jesus, don't hurt yourself...!

[jammin_with_ed]

[Isn't it, though? She just keeps on giggling]

What should Edward dooooo with all these?

[hard_talker]

Hey, beats the heck outta me. Stick 'em on something that you think stinks. Even if it's a metaphorical stench.

[now THERE'S an idea. he snickers] You know what ... especially if it doesn't actually smell bad, but you just plain don't like it.

[jammin_with_ed]

[She giggles wickedly]

Stinky stinky eeeeeeeeeeeeeverywhere!

[hard_talker]

[that? is the sound of one very wicked grin coming through in his voice]

EEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeexactly.