Duncan Heimdall Jackson (
inchesofevil) wrote in
maskormenace2016-03-18 11:25 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
- kang | n/a,
- † anastasya griffin | the necromancer,
- † cosima niehaus | n/a,
- † count dooku | darth tyranus,
- † duncan jackson | heimdall,
- † hermann gottlieb | n/a,
- † kaidan alenko | sentinel,
- † kanaya maryam-lalonde | psychopomp,
- † keladry of mindelan | lady knight,
- † khada jhin | n/a,
- † kotetsu t. kaburagi | wild tiger,
- † magicman | n/a,
- † mina | n/a,
- † newton geiszler | n/a,
- † qubit | n/a,
- † richard gansey | raven king,
- † rincewind | n/a,
- † sai | n/a
[Video] nanomachines nanomachines nanomachines
[the video feed clicks on to Duncan setting up the camera. He pulls away, hands held up tentatively while he waits to make sure everything's working how it should and nothing's going to fall over. The setting behind him is obviously a science lab, and the camera is centered on a pair of double-sided portable whiteboards in front of the counter lining the wall, with a stool sitting somewhere off-center in between them.
Satisfied with the recording setup, Duncan turns around and walks up to the whiteboards, which are both covered in chicken scratch notes and hastily drawn science diagrams. If you can actually read his shitty handwriting, it's a lot of half-formed ideas about nanotech and genetics, and some of it is...concerning. like mad science concerning.
He pauses, staring at the board on the right, which is the one with all the potential mad science on it while the one on the left is mostly just note-taking and calculations. he scrutinizes it for a moment, absently biting his thumbnail, like he's looking for some kind of answer in what he's written there.
it's worth noting that he looks like hell. button-down collared shirt wrinkled in the manner of having been worn for a couple days straight, and he hasn't shaved since whenever he put that shirt on either. he looks exhausted but wired. manic, even, as he looks back toward the camera as if suddenly remembering that it's there. he turns to face it completely.]
So.
So, nanomachines, right.
Fuckin'. Fuckin' nanomachines. Nanites. Nano...tech. All that bullshit.
[he is definitely exhausted enough for his accent to be slipping. he's still trying to maintain the neutral American, but his Texas is showing through, and what he winds up with is an inconsistent mess of an amalgamation of the two.]
You know what I know 'bout fuckin' nanomachines? Fuckin'. NOTHIN'. [he smacks a hand against the whiteboard's frame and then is distracted for a second while he straightens it back out.] Nothing. But! I am also a goddamn grad student, so if there's one thing I know how to do, it's motherfucking research.
So. So nanomachines, alright, nanotech 101, tiny-ass fuckin' machines that can do all kinds of cool shit. They call 'em nanites here, but it's the same shit, it's all nanotech. And their nanotech progress would be fuckin' incredible if they used them for, you know, curin' cancer or what the fuck ever, but no! No, instead they just shove 'em into ImPorts for government surveillance bullshit. They can use that shit to bring us back from the dead but they can't be fucking bothered to--
[okay, no, deep breath. he holds his hands up like a signal to halt--to, uh, himself? inhale, exhale, lowers his hands, starts over.] Anyway. The government's use of nanomachines on us is irresponsible as fuck, and fuck you if you disagree.
And, uh, the government's hiring ImPorts right now to improve on their nanotech, so it can't get hacked by Russia again I guess.
But you know what'd work better?
Fucking not pumping us full of goddamn nanites in the first place.
So--so! With that in mind! [he snatches up a dry erase marker and flips the board over to its reverse side, which is...well, it's equally full of concerningly mad-sciency shit, but he swipes his sleeve across a big arc of it, clearing off a space. he decisively uncaps the pen and then...doesn't...write anything, instead standing poised with it as if he's going to start in a second here.] I say we put our collective science brains together and figure out how to fix this fuckin' nanite problem our own damn selves.
Like. Like would an EMP take them out? Not optimal for the robots, probably. Or we could, uhh, make our own nanites to combat the originals and take them out. Corrosive anti-nanite chemo mix? Find their resonance frequency? Lasers? Fucking. Science is all about lasers, we can probably solve this with lasers somehow.
Or. [facing the camera again, turning away from the whiteboard. no, he still hasn't written anything down yet.] Or we could engineer fake antibodies to bind to them. Or uhh genetically alter a virus--HIV, right? Perfect. Turn HIV onto the nanites instead of T-cells and let that dismantle 'em exponentially.
Or, um. I don't know, draining all your blood would probably work. I mean, you'd have to be willing to die a little, but I can resurrect people so don't worry about that. Honestly, that's probably the simplest answer.
[that sounds like maybe it should be a joke, but he definitely sounds and looks as serious about it as he did about every other suggestion he threw out. he hasn't slept in three days, his mad science meter is through the roof right now.]
Satisfied with the recording setup, Duncan turns around and walks up to the whiteboards, which are both covered in chicken scratch notes and hastily drawn science diagrams. If you can actually read his shitty handwriting, it's a lot of half-formed ideas about nanotech and genetics, and some of it is...concerning. like mad science concerning.
He pauses, staring at the board on the right, which is the one with all the potential mad science on it while the one on the left is mostly just note-taking and calculations. he scrutinizes it for a moment, absently biting his thumbnail, like he's looking for some kind of answer in what he's written there.
it's worth noting that he looks like hell. button-down collared shirt wrinkled in the manner of having been worn for a couple days straight, and he hasn't shaved since whenever he put that shirt on either. he looks exhausted but wired. manic, even, as he looks back toward the camera as if suddenly remembering that it's there. he turns to face it completely.]
So.
So, nanomachines, right.
Fuckin'. Fuckin' nanomachines. Nanites. Nano...tech. All that bullshit.
[he is definitely exhausted enough for his accent to be slipping. he's still trying to maintain the neutral American, but his Texas is showing through, and what he winds up with is an inconsistent mess of an amalgamation of the two.]
You know what I know 'bout fuckin' nanomachines? Fuckin'. NOTHIN'. [he smacks a hand against the whiteboard's frame and then is distracted for a second while he straightens it back out.] Nothing. But! I am also a goddamn grad student, so if there's one thing I know how to do, it's motherfucking research.
So. So nanomachines, alright, nanotech 101, tiny-ass fuckin' machines that can do all kinds of cool shit. They call 'em nanites here, but it's the same shit, it's all nanotech. And their nanotech progress would be fuckin' incredible if they used them for, you know, curin' cancer or what the fuck ever, but no! No, instead they just shove 'em into ImPorts for government surveillance bullshit. They can use that shit to bring us back from the dead but they can't be fucking bothered to--
[okay, no, deep breath. he holds his hands up like a signal to halt--to, uh, himself? inhale, exhale, lowers his hands, starts over.] Anyway. The government's use of nanomachines on us is irresponsible as fuck, and fuck you if you disagree.
And, uh, the government's hiring ImPorts right now to improve on their nanotech, so it can't get hacked by Russia again I guess.
But you know what'd work better?
Fucking not pumping us full of goddamn nanites in the first place.
So--so! With that in mind! [he snatches up a dry erase marker and flips the board over to its reverse side, which is...well, it's equally full of concerningly mad-sciency shit, but he swipes his sleeve across a big arc of it, clearing off a space. he decisively uncaps the pen and then...doesn't...write anything, instead standing poised with it as if he's going to start in a second here.] I say we put our collective science brains together and figure out how to fix this fuckin' nanite problem our own damn selves.
Like. Like would an EMP take them out? Not optimal for the robots, probably. Or we could, uhh, make our own nanites to combat the originals and take them out. Corrosive anti-nanite chemo mix? Find their resonance frequency? Lasers? Fucking. Science is all about lasers, we can probably solve this with lasers somehow.
Or. [facing the camera again, turning away from the whiteboard. no, he still hasn't written anything down yet.] Or we could engineer fake antibodies to bind to them. Or uhh genetically alter a virus--HIV, right? Perfect. Turn HIV onto the nanites instead of T-cells and let that dismantle 'em exponentially.
Or, um. I don't know, draining all your blood would probably work. I mean, you'd have to be willing to die a little, but I can resurrect people so don't worry about that. Honestly, that's probably the simplest answer.
[that sounds like maybe it should be a joke, but he definitely sounds and looks as serious about it as he did about every other suggestion he threw out. he hasn't slept in three days, his mad science meter is through the roof right now.]
text;
text;
text;
text;
text; > private text
Private;-->
I'm not about to offer them anything without knowing the precise effects I can expect my work to have.
[As well as the ones they're not telling him of course]
text; > private text
private
This is the government. Nothing is precise, there's a ton of red-tape and they bury the truth beneath a shit-ton of TOS bullshit. It's like when they pass a bill and all the other crap is tacked on underneath that no one bothered to read and they shoehorned in. Don't get taken for a ride, Hermann.
You do this, you realize they're not going to want you to disclose everything you see or do--or if they LET YOU disclose it, it's definitely NOT what they are really doing with those things. I'm not saying aliens, Skully, but ALIENS, Skully. (by which I do not mean aliens at all, Hermann, just, conspiracy theory etc). How are we even sure they'd let you work on the actual model of nanites present in our bodies? How are we even sure they won't test on YOU?
text; > private text
private;
Yes, I'm very aware of all of that, Newton. There are reasons I haven't gone ahead and volunteered already. We simply don't know enough, and they've given us fewer reasons to trust them as time goes on.
There are at least a dozen or so imPort programmers already here, however. I wonder how many of them have responded or intend to.
text; > private text
Private
I don't know, but...
How many of those programmers have a biologist in their back pocket?
private text
Newton?
private text
But they could have power inhibitors.
perma private text
[what r doing]
perma private text
B) If you go in and you have no powers, how do you get out if they don't want you out.
C) I am not Miles.
D) Why are all the good ideas also the worst ideas ever?
perma private text
A- Possible, but unlikely. Less plausible than
B- Concerning, certainly.
C- I suspect I may know what this means, but it's still rather unclear.
D- I'm not taking credit for this.
perma private text
B) "CONCERNING"?? EXCUSE ME? MR. THE SUB WAS A HORRIBLE EXPERIENCE & I AM NOT LETTING THEM STEAL YOU AGAIN......THIS IS "CONCERNING"?!?!!
C) I AM NOT GOING TO SIT HERE LIKE A GOOD RECEPTACLE OF INFORMATION WHILE YOU GO AND PUT YOURSELF IN DANGER. MAYBE MILES COULD DO IT FOR GREG, BUT I REFUSE. AND!!! YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY OVER ME. WE ARE EQUALS, HERMANN, WE ARE FUCKING EQUALS. I AM NOT SOME DUDE WHO OWES YOU FEALTY.
D) IT WAS YOUR SHITTY IDEA. OWN UP TO YOUR SHIT.
no subject
B- Yes, concerning. In every sense of the word.
C- You'd need to talk to government about that.
D- It was my consideration to possibly offer my assistance to dramatically strengthen nanite security. This... conspiracy, was not part of it.
private; text (until otherwise noted)
B) FUCK YOU.
C) FUCK YOU.
D) F U C K Y O U.
[permavid]
Not, uh, that I'm questionin' yer veracity or whatever, just curious.
I'm sure we could find a way around that if we need to.
text;
no subject
'Cause you sound like you got somethin' specific in mind.
PRIVATE TEXT
Multiple Sclerosis, if you must know. It's a degenerative disease, but the nanites seem to prevent a worsening condition.
[private text]
No fucking shit, really?
MS is the entire reason I went into genetics. I was doing my thesis on a new genetic treatment possibility.
Sounds like they might be preventing any additional buildup of scar tissue, if I had to hazard a guess.
[private text]
Is that so? Well they appear to keep the symptoms in stasis, and where RRMS is concerned at least, relapses are more predictable and perhaps even less severe.
Nothing to indicate any sort of reversal of course, but even halting the progression is.. well, progress, considering the lack of available treatments to do much more than manage and attempt to delay worsening symptoms.
[private text]
Yeah, I get you. My best friend's been diagnosed since high school and I'd kill just to be able to halt her progression. Anything that helps is progress.
Thanks for pointing this out. We'll definitely have to find an alternative solution for folks in your position.
[private text]
Ah, yes..
[welp, that's out now]
The consideration is appreciated.