#anyways simon in third place??? INSANELY deserved

[ccrv-7]

the notes on lrb are so funny bc most people are making an argument for why they picked who they picked while the soma fans are just going SIMON!!!! SIMOOON!!! SIMON SIMON SIMONSWEEEEEEEP out of sheer elation that he’s even an option

[my-name-is-markus-with-a-k]

hi 👋 i generally think that youre right, but im a hater at heart, so id like to argue a bit <3 cause honestly all androids would be enslaved, and that was kinda the point, but idk if that would really matter until they were like, directly pre-deviation. yk, like almost self aware? bc up until that point itd be kinda like owning a toaster. but i think that the "markus had it good" crowd is maybe trying to make a point that he didnt suffer as much as some other androids? (idk, spitballing) bc north was basically a victim of sexual human (android?) trafficking, there were probably plenty of androids who lost their loved ones to humans, so markus kinda comes from a better position. and the fact that he just kinda shows up on his second/third day post deviation and gets to "rule" jericho is batshit insane. if david cage wasnt a coward north would lead a successful revolution

So it wouldn't matter that they're enslaved for a while because they're not sentient at first (which they are actually, so that's moot anyway)? OK, but where's the distinction from 'this is a toaster' and 'this is a living being'? What metric are we using here? Because saying it's not really slavery until their aware enough of what's happening to them has some very gross implications.

As for the 'Markus had it good crowd'. Okay, so even of he didn't suffer as much as other androids, that somehow what? Makes him privileged? Not worthy somehow? Makes him not a slave? Because not only is that not true (he was a slave like the others, like the literal textbook definition) but even North, who has been through the worst of the worst was horrified by what happened to him. Of where he ended up. Which was in the trash. So, all his 'privilege' didn't really do much for him when he was shot by the cops that he himself called.

And as for his rise in Jericho, he was the only one at first who actually wanted to do anything about their situation. Simon was napping his life away, Josh was too scared, North was too jaded. Markus came and gave them direction and the hope that they actually deserved more than to rot away at the bottom of a boat. And like, they didn't actually have to listen to him. He doesn't come in and start 'ruling' Jericho, he gives them a plan, something to work towards and naturally they put him in charge, because hey, this guy sorta knows what he's doing and actually has the guts to try and pull it off. It wouldn't be ridiculous for Markus to become the leader half way throught the game if the devs had actually stuck to the story taking place over the course of months, instead of just a few days. So yeah his rise to leader is fast, but if you're going to call that out for being ridiculous, also call out the fact that the revolution happening over the course of 5 days is even more ridiculous.

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 16 -- The Trade-off

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

Back in the infirmary, Prescott was pitching an absolute hissy fit about his treatment aboard, as though he had high expectations for the level of comfort that was generally afforded to those taken prisoner by pirates.

He was, of course, actually being treated pretty well by those standards. He was in a relatively comfortable hospital bed and had been left in complete control of its inclination. His captors provided him with adequate food, he was given prompt and free medical attention, and his bed was facing a small hologram crystal playing a marathon of Deimos, P.I. reruns.

This is, of course, not to say that he should have been grateful. Far from it, in fact, he was being held captive and had every right to be incredibly angry, and he exercised that right to its fullest. It was, however, somewhat ridiculous for someone in his position to be making outlandish demands of Cookie, like “a glass of sparkling water every hour on the hour, with fresh-cut limes and a bowl of cucumbers on the side.”

Without fail, Cookie brought him the same bowl of plain oatmeal and glass of non-sparkling tap water, devoid of limes, in response to every request. She was a consummate professional, but she had her limits, and after the third or fourth time he asked for an array of bagel chips and berry-infused cream cheese spreads, Cookie began responding by putting a little more tap water in his oatmeal. This wouldn’t diminish the amount of food he got, but would effectively ruin its texture, which is about the only thing plain oatmeal has going for it.

This was, in Cookie’s mind, a shame. His requests were things she’d actually love to try her hand at, but she, like most people on the station after only a few days, absolutely could not stand Prescott, who was this insufferable even when he was not being held against his will. She had no interest in giving him anything he wanted, or interacting with him beyond her captain’s orders.

“Keep him alive, he knows something about that cult and we’re gonna need all the information we can get to save those girls.”

On this particular day, Cookie was overwhelmingly relieved to hear that she could have the afternoon off from Prescott Duty, since Ariadne would be bringing him his lunch personally.

Ariadne entered the room quietly, placed his tray on the table next to him, loosed his restraints, and muted the Val Deimos marathon.

She was dressed down, barefoot in a pair of stylish denim shorts and a loose-fitting black t-shirt. Her mechanical legs were nowhere to be seen and her spider-like goggles were replaced with the rectangular wireframe glasses she wore when she wasn’t working.

Prescott was dressed in a hospital gown, which is how he’d been dressed since he’d been staying there, and looked rather greasy, which is how he usually looked anyway.

“What is this?” He asked after a beat.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you from my good friend Mingxia,” Ariadne explained. “You’re a good liar, I’m told, and you always act in your own self-interest.”

Prescott didn’t have much of a response to this, but he still opened his mouth in the hopes that one would come out anyway. It did not.

“I want you to know that it’s in your best interest not to lie to me. See, I decided a few days ago that we should let you go. It wasn’t a popular decision, see, Spacebreather and Sweettalk both want you dead, and I should stress that this is the first thing I’ve ever known them to agree on. We tried to keep word of your past, shall we say, missteps from spreading to the crew, but we’re on a ship full of teenagers and you know how rumors spread. Now, they’re all dying to get a piece of you. So, at the end of this conversation, I’m going to give you your freedom, I want you to understand that. If you tell me what I want to hear, you and I can walk to telepad together and we’ll send you on your way, wherever you want. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll be forced to let you walk to the telepad by yourself, and I should warn you, I can’t make promises about how my crew will treat you when I’m not there to protect you.”

Prescott scoffed, “you really expect me to cooperate with that? Talk or my crew kills you?”

“Oh, they won’t kill you,” Ariadne replied calmly. “But, if I’m with you, I can order our physician to waive your medical debt.”

“Debt?” Prescott asked, “You expect me to pay her for reattaching my fingers after you kidnapped me?”

“Oh, no, nothing so complex as money,” Ariadne laughed. “But, Sasha gave you three fingers, which you didn’t have when she found you. The price for that is any useful information you have on the Red God cult. Give us that, and you’ll walk out of here without a scratch. Otherwise, my first mate has been authorized to repossess the medical services you’ve rendered during your stay here.”

“Repossess— you’re going to cut off my fingers again if I don’t tell you what I know?!”

“Of course not!” Ariadne chuckled. “Spacebreather’s going to cut off your fingers again if you don’t tell me what you know. And, with interest, plus the cost of oatmeal… well, let’s just say you won’t have to worry about losing extremities to frostbite anymore.”

“This is insane,” Prescott snapped, “this is a shake-down.”

“Brilliant observation,” Ariadne said. “Start talking.”

“I’m not going to go along with this just because you’re trying to intimidate me.”

“Yes, you are. You know full well that you deserve every shitty thing that’s happened to you in the past week, and more importantly, you’re a coward and you don’t want to risk anything bad happening to you.”

Prescott considered this for a moment. He was a coward and even he had the self-awareness to know he could not truthfully say that he hadn’t done at least one thing to earn every misfortune of the past week.

“I’ve got something that might be helpful,” he started, “but there’s something I want in return.”

“We already established what you get in return, suge, you’re not much in a position to be making demands.”

“No, you’ve gotta understand— I was their security provider. I didn’t do a great job, granted, but you can’t exactly hire someone to guard your secrets without letting that person in on a few of them. What I’m trying to say is, I know something big about the Zealot. A silver bullet secret, one that can take down the whole cult in the right hands.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“You ever wonder why everyone who visits those life centers converts to their religion? I know how he’s doing it and how to reverse it. You ever wonder why he disappeared a few years back? I know where he went. Got any clue why he’s got three little girls with mind control chips in their heads? I do! Get me what I want and it’s all yours.”

This was not a compelling case for why Ariadne should believe him. He did sound sure of himself, however, he had also been a confidence trickster for most of his life. “Give me some hard evidence what you’re telling me is true and we can talk about what you want.”

“A lot of people know the Zealot was a scientist before all of this started. That’s part of how his crazy movement got so much credibility in the first place. He liked to keep his true name under wraps, though. Didn’t want anyone looking into the subject of his research. His old name still showed up on the security invoices, though, even though he made me sign some bullshit non-disclosure agreement. Of course, people didn’t really need to know who he was or what he’d been authoring papers about to trust that he knew what he was talking about. He said he was a scientist, and people are sheep. It reminds me of an old test called the Milgram—”

“If you don’t get to the point I may actually cut you.”

Prescott looked genuinely hurt. “It’s an interesting experiment…” he muttered, then continued. “Anyway, only a select few people actually know his name from back before he was the Zealot. I trust you’ve heard of Dr. C. Alexander Simon?”

“I feel like you know I haven’t.”

“Why don’t you use that antique hologram to look him up? See what he’s supposed to be up to today? Put that thing to some good use instead of just streaming Cop Dramas all day.”

“Fine,” Ariadne shrugged, and turned to pull up information on Dr. Simon on the holoscreen, “also, Val Deimos isn’t a cop, she’s a former cop who quit the force and became a P.I. because of corruption in the…” Ariadne trailed off as the information loaded. The photograph of Dr. Simon was unmistakably the same person as the photo La Pesadilla had given them.

“Yeah, because Santa Helena is a hotbed of corruption and not a quaint suburb. This show is ridiculous.”

“No, shut up, I’m reading.” Ariadne hushed him and furrowed her eyebrows as she struggled to comprehend what she was reading. “This doesn’t make sense, according to this he’s supposed to be—”

“Yeah, look up what he’s famous for, should be the section marked ‘Controversy and Disgrace.’”

“Oh my g—” Ariadne’s eyes widened in shock. “Did he actually do it?”

“I suspect he’s very close.”

“This is all very enlightening,” Ariadne responded, “but I still don’t see how this is a silver bullet that’s going to destroy the cult and break whatever spell he’s got over his followers.”

“You get that after I get what I want.”

Ariadne huffed in annoyance. “And what do you want?”

Prescott gritted his teeth. “I want my money back.”

Five minutes later, Ariadne and a now fully-dressed-but-still-handcuffed Prescott entered the war room where Sasha and Sweettalk were intently playing a game of chess, and Spacebreather was equally intently playing a game of darts.

So they could all hear, Ariadne announced, “Meet me in the briefing room in 20 minutes, we’re going to help Prescott rob a casino.”

“What?!” Sweettalk practically spat in reply.