[Scien is walking into one of the Belly labs, and then suddenly, something swallows him, and he is instead following someone he has never seen before. The hallway has a mild reminiscence of the Institute actually. Clean, orderly, a bit of the design flare of wealth.
Ahead of him is a brown-skinned woman in a high ponytail and a white skirted uniform. She's walking with purpose, her heels clicking on the floor, her arms hugged a clipboard and a journal to her chest.
She's talking aloud to herself as she goes:]]
"Viktor, I've been working on a... private project for a couple of weeks now..." Mm, no. "Viktor"-- [with a bit more confidence this time almost as she reaches a large door at the end]--"I've been working on this for a year now"... [She pushes her glasses up as she goes through.] "Viktor, I was hoping you might take a look at something I've been working on"...
Edited (WE WILL NEVER GET THIS RIGHT) 2024-03-18 23:54 (UTC)
scien isn't an idiot about recognizing emotions, even though he doesn't feel all too strongly about them. so instead he'll follow after, keeping his footsteps quiet. he does so less out of curiosity, and more because he wants to get the fuck out of here.
"Viktor, I was inspired by your"-- [She sighs.] Everything you do inspires me.
[She has stalled momentarily at the next door, at odds with what she wants to say and how she wants to say it. She doesn't think she'll ever be prepared, so... Stepping forward, the door yawns open for her.
Something is going on inside. Bright purple light flashes out in a cone, swallowing the woman suddenly up, swallowing Scien up somewhere behind her. It begins again from the beginning, the hubris of any ambitious man.
Scien is sitting in his underwear on a stool in front of a work table, two scalpels and an injection gun in a tray in front of him. His body is rail-thin and tired, minus the numb right leg which is mottled purple and fused with metal from thigh to toes. But the chronic pain hasn't ever abated; in his back, in his shoulders, in his pelvis.
His mind full and anxious, churning. The first time was a success. This is the second chance. This is where he gets a body that won't fail him.]
[damn the hets just aren't gonna make it. this is why lucktordon real.
scien watches the scene in front of him - and he wishes he could be more surprised. he frowns, displeased, but it does not come from a sense of empathy or pain. rather, it is out of dissatisfaction over an innocent life lost. someone who clearly was quite smart in her own right, and yet that desire to help another leads to her life disappearing in but a flash of light.
it's not an uncommon story. it's still a cruel one.]
[STOP sometimes you kill the girl you didn't even know liked you
In the aftermath, a pathetic child among the grey not-sand of Sky, her glasses, the slivers of her journal, Scien is overwhelmed by guilt. The sorrow is standing at the precipice of agony. Grief, guilt, interchangeable. Strong enough to make his heart begin a steady and tumultuous chug up that hill toward the peak.
It drops off.
The pages. The pages are what he scrambles for. He was a fool. He's a fool. The grief begins again, revving Scien's heart up toward that peak.
It drops off.
There is alcove at the seam between the dirty Undercity and shining Piltover. A spillway, a place where Piltover's run off dumps down into the start of Zaun. The smell of wealth and food tapers off here, replaced by garbage, by chemicals, dirty water. Scien sits at the lip of the opening, a terrible burial.
The man who appears is the spitting image of what Scien isn't. Fit, tall, healthy, olive skinned, strong jawed. The face of Hextech, a councilman, and less his partner now. The man drops a hammer down, interrupting Scien's ideation, and Scien is--briefly, for a second--noticing of the hex crystal embedded within a weapon. It doesn't register just yet.
He is too worried about warning Jayce, about getting Jayce to promise as if promises can't be broken.
The pouring water and turning gears slips out of Scien's ears, and he is left inside the entrance of the lab where he began. Across from him, Viktor drops the tool in his hand.]
even though it makes sense in this utterance, even if it brings him closer to some moment of understanding... there is something so very wrong about it. he understands a bit more the type of person that viktor is, and he just sighs afterward. his hand falls over his chest—over his memory bank, making sure that all the emotions and feelings align with him.
[Rattled, Viktor quickly looks down at his feet. He shakily lowers himself down to gather it back up, gripping it so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turn white.
His eyes lift, but then hastily glance in any direction not Scien. In fact, it becomes so unbearable to be known that he turns away completely.]
What... What was that?
[WHY DOES THE ANOMALY HAVE TO BE MEMORIES SPECIFICALLY? NO!]
[If he thought braining himself with the tool in his hand would alleviate anything he is feeling in Scien's presence, he would do it without hesitation.
His shoulders heave slightly. His hand rises to rub at some point on his face. His eyes?]
[the question isn't asked to be cruel. only to gather more information.]
You couldn't have known she was coming to see you.
[viktor was in his underwear? scien is going to guess he wasn't expecting company. it was a horrible accident. one that could've been avoided if viktor didn't play with a force he wasn't able to control.
but scien is curious as to where this shame is coming from.]
[He starts shaking his head, but he doesn't say anything for a long few moments. Just shakes his head repeatedly, slow.]
I still killed her... I still... I still grabbed it. [Seeing himself be that way in that moment, reviewing it after the fact, having to sink in. Excruciating.] It was the only thing that mattered to me in that moment.
[He is still soft, still human, so the tears well up in his eyes and he squeezes them shut. Can he live with this? Can he live like this? Knowing. Maybe he should just take out the pieces that hurt. Replace them.]
[most people don't deserve to be disintegrated in seconds when trying to help the one person that inspires them, that they are clearly besotted with. scien doesn't doubt that. but he understands just a bit more.]
... and yet you still can't bring yourself to destroy it.
[even knowing that it caused him such pain and suffering, that it quite literally consumed someone he held dear.
emotions are truly such a terrible thing sometimes.]
For the sake of preserving life, Scien Brofiise decides who will perish at his hand. Death row inmates come into your office, uncomprehending until they are sedated, put on operating tables, and reveal the innate secrets of the human body. Some of them scream, plead, beg for mercy from the one that this country calls their god. However none but you are there to hear them—to ignore their cries for forgiveness. They didn’t mean to brutally kill those women. They didn’t mean to test their blade upon helpless children. They didn’t know that it would end up like this.
Gargling on their own blood, choking on their own tongues, feeling their bodies warped in the name of science.
Your mother has been killed. Your grandfather and father lost their lives before their dreams could come true. Your own sister—the one who used to tug on your ear for misbehaving or ruffle your hair in pride over your accomplishments—abandoned you. How disgusting to share the same DNA as someone so vile.
And yet, you feel nothing. A ripple of muted surprise, and then gone. No tears are shed.
The people have no need for a god that can still feel remorse. Emotion would only slow you down. So instead you pick up another scalpel to slice through flesh and hold someone else’s beating heart into your hand.
You know this is what an average person would call evil. You know that this is inhumane. And yet, you don’t stop.
You just don’t want to be mistaken for a saint, when all you are is a sinner.]
As if Viktor didn't fill Othered enough. The--memory? That's what these are, right? The memory startles him. He comes out of it holding his own throat with one hand, disturbed by... by the lack of feeling he has.
Not much else is different. The boredom, the clawing desire to learn, the create. He's tender for others, but he isn't sure if he would ever not be that way. Maybe he would also lose his humanity sooner or later in the pursuit of a perfect form.
He hates how little difference there is! He does not like standing back to back with Scien Brofiise, two sides of the same coin. In a way, he now understands Scien a little better, too.]
You... [Why is this so frustrating?] But you... said... you figured it out?
but scien just stretches idly after witnessing his own memory, looking almost bored from it. he does not look away from his horrors, but they no longer surprise him. he has always been exactly aware of what he's capable of. he turns to viktor at the question and tilts his head]
Yes. I am closer than I ever have been, and will likely be able to devise the solution in a matter of months.
[ . . . he frowns. his gaze drifts to the side, irritated - but mostly with himself.]
However, I made little progress for sixty years. Adjustments were made to Reliver survivability, but never enough to live to a 24th year.
But I mean to say simply this: even if you seek salvation, know that my way was far bloodier than yours. Intentionally so. It is not a better way, because too many lives were sacrificed at my hand. It is just as corrupt.
[but there is no joy said in this—simply a statement of fact. viktor had once said scien was far more a monster than he is. scien agrees.]
[Why am I becoming more and more of a Scien anti IRL?
Please be less bored with your memories, fucker. Viktor keeps his hand at his throat, but at least doesn't try choking himself anymore.]
That isn't the way you made it sound before...
[Which is irritating, but... he doesn't have the energy to pursue any sort of spite or argument about it. Scien might not give a damn, but he's getting tired.]
You could have just said that to start with, you know. When I asked. You knew why. You could have just said that...
It isn't a wrong assumption. Your way was as bad as mine, if not worse! You could have just said that when I came to talk to you, you...
[OOOO. His brows furrow. The hand at his throat finally lowers.]
You could have just told me there wasn't a better way, and I would have left! Just because you can't feel anything like normal humans can doesn't mean I'm letting you off the hook for being arrogant.
No. You had the wrong assumption about me. Do you think that progress to recreate the human body to circumvent slow, inevitable death is done bloodlessly? Did you think that it could be done without sacrifice?
[scien is soooooo arrogant and he's not backing down.]
The difference between you and me is that I get results.
[THE ARROGANCE!!!!! Mild anger bubbles up in him.]
No. The difference between you and me is I understand there is no point in living at all if you think people like Sky turning to ash holds any merit to your successes!
The difference is I will never believe I'm someone's god or savior, no matter what help I can offer them.
There is always a choice. There has to be a better way.
Incorrect. I've never harmed one of my own workers or companions. The people I sacrifice are those already on death row, so their lives can at least contribute to saving others before they're sent to Hades. I've never once denied my crimes, and yet you seem to be getting angry that whatever illusion you had is becoming betrayed.
You can be as angry as you'd like that your greed led to accidents you aren't prepared for, but you're mistaking your experiences for mine. I'm nothing like you.
[but scien makes an open-handed gesture. even now, he's not angry. he makes factual statements. he doesn't consider himself a god anymore, no, but he will always save more lives than he harms.]
I'm not angry. I know that the disregard for any life whatsoever can begin to bleed right into all life for someone who has a limit on what he can feel. For someone who boredly looks for the satisfaction of reaching his goals.
Eunhyuk. Will you sacrifice him? He murdered me. Sheba? Liu Shouxue? They murdered others. Me? I murdered Sky.
[His hands ball into fists.]
We are nothing to you. Look me in the face and tell me you wouldn't. That you think you're smart enough to sit on the other side of that line and let your workers and companions live even if it meant finding the answers to whatever puzzle has been working you raw.
I've been alive over eighty years. I can say with certainty I wouldn't. There's little point in telling you since you clearly aren't listening but I want to be clear: even at my most desperate, I didn't lose my regard for life.
You're right that none of you mean anything to me. But also none of your crimes are worthy of death. It's something called nuance. Are you familiar? The three of them were possessed and you—for all that you annoy me, you're clearly just stupider and more emotional than you think. You can't trust yourself. That's why you're projecting onto me.
If I truly would be willing to sacrifice anyone, why didn't I let Nosebleed volunteer to die to see if we could come back? Why didn't I kill you for stealing my life's work?
[scien at first glance is a mess of contradictions. sometimes violent, sometimes apathetic, sometimes cruel, and sometimes a person's only hope of salvation.
it's all true.]
I've already admitted I'm likely more evil than good. So why bother acting so self-righteous?
You can't nuance your way out of every single instance. You're going to run into one someday you can't. That has nothing to do with me. That's just how the world works.
[These two are rams who keep smacking their horns together stubbornly.]
You can change. That's the point. You keep falling back on the excuse of knowing you're evil. Change then. There's no progress without change. As a scientist, you know that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
HELP MEEEE
Ahead of him is a brown-skinned woman in a high ponytail and a white skirted uniform. She's walking with purpose, her heels clicking on the floor, her arms hugged a clipboard and a journal to her chest.
She's talking aloud to herself as she goes:]]
"Viktor, I've been working on a... private project for a couple of weeks now..." Mm, no. "Viktor"-- [with a bit more confidence this time almost as she reaches a large door at the end]--"I've been working on this for a year now"... [She pushes her glasses up as she goes through.] "Viktor, I was hoping you might take a look at something I've been working on"...
IT'S FINE IT'S FINE
this seems very straight.
scien isn't an idiot about recognizing emotions, even though he doesn't feel all too strongly about them. so instead he'll follow after, keeping his footsteps quiet. he does so less out of curiosity, and more because he wants to get the fuck out of here.
the only way forward is through.]
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[She has stalled momentarily at the next door, at odds with what she wants to say and how she wants to say it. She doesn't think she'll ever be prepared, so... Stepping forward, the door yawns open for her.
Something is going on inside. Bright purple light flashes out in a cone, swallowing the woman suddenly up, swallowing Scien up somewhere behind her. It begins again from the beginning, the hubris of any ambitious man.
Scien is sitting in his underwear on a stool in front of a work table, two scalpels and an injection gun in a tray in front of him. His body is rail-thin and tired, minus the numb right leg which is mottled purple and fused with metal from thigh to toes. But the chronic pain hasn't ever abated; in his back, in his shoulders, in his pelvis.
His mind full and anxious, churning. The first time was a success. This is the second chance. This is where he gets a body that won't fail him.]
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scien watches the scene in front of him - and he wishes he could be more surprised. he frowns, displeased, but it does not come from a sense of empathy or pain. rather, it is out of dissatisfaction over an innocent life lost. someone who clearly was quite smart in her own right, and yet that desire to help another leads to her life disappearing in but a flash of light.
it's not an uncommon story. it's still a cruel one.]
So this is who he hurt.
[to try to find a way to live.]
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In the aftermath, a pathetic child among the grey not-sand of Sky, her glasses, the slivers of her journal, Scien is overwhelmed by guilt. The sorrow is standing at the precipice of agony. Grief, guilt, interchangeable. Strong enough to make his heart begin a steady and tumultuous chug up that hill toward the peak.
It drops off.
The pages. The pages are what he scrambles for. He was a fool. He's a fool. The grief begins again, revving Scien's heart up toward that peak.
It drops off.
There is alcove at the seam between the dirty Undercity and shining Piltover. A spillway, a place where Piltover's run off dumps down into the start of Zaun. The smell of wealth and food tapers off here, replaced by garbage, by chemicals, dirty water. Scien sits at the lip of the opening, a terrible burial.
The man who appears is the spitting image of what Scien isn't. Fit, tall, healthy, olive skinned, strong jawed. The face of Hextech, a councilman, and less his partner now. The man drops a hammer down, interrupting Scien's ideation, and Scien is--briefly, for a second--noticing of the hex crystal embedded within a weapon. It doesn't register just yet.
He is too worried about warning Jayce, about getting Jayce to promise as if promises can't be broken.
The pouring water and turning gears slips out of Scien's ears, and he is left inside the entrance of the lab where he began. Across from him, Viktor drops the tool in his hand.]
no subject
even though it makes sense in this utterance, even if it brings him closer to some moment of understanding... there is something so very wrong about it. he understands a bit more the type of person that viktor is, and he just sighs afterward. his hand falls over his chest—over his memory bank, making sure that all the emotions and feelings align with him.
no one else but himself.
and then, plain and simple:]
I'm not picking that up for you.
[the tool.]
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His eyes lift, but then hastily glance in any direction not Scien. In fact, it becomes so unbearable to be known that he turns away completely.]
What... What was that?
[WHY DOES THE ANOMALY HAVE TO BE MEMORIES SPECIFICALLY? NO!]
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scien lets his gaze rest upon viktor, even if the other refuses to look at him.]
Shouldn't you know better than anyone else?
Are you ashamed?
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[If he thought braining himself with the tool in his hand would alleviate anything he is feeling in Scien's presence, he would do it without hesitation.
His shoulders heave slightly. His hand rises to rub at some point on his face. His eyes?]
Of course.
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and yet.]
Why?
[the question isn't asked to be cruel. only to gather more information.]
You couldn't have known she was coming to see you.
[viktor was in his underwear? scien is going to guess he wasn't expecting company. it was a horrible accident. one that could've been avoided if viktor didn't play with a force he wasn't able to control.
but scien is curious as to where this shame is coming from.]
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I still killed her... I still... I still grabbed it. [Seeing himself be that way in that moment, reviewing it after the fact, having to sink in. Excruciating.] It was the only thing that mattered to me in that moment.
[He is still soft, still human, so the tears well up in his eyes and he squeezes them shut. Can he live with this? Can he live like this? Knowing. Maybe he should just take out the pieces that hurt. Replace them.]
She... didn't deserve that.
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[most people don't deserve to be disintegrated in seconds when trying to help the one person that inspires them, that they are clearly besotted with. scien doesn't doubt that. but he understands just a bit more.]
... and yet you still can't bring yourself to destroy it.
[even knowing that it caused him such pain and suffering, that it quite literally consumed someone he held dear.
emotions are truly such a terrible thing sometimes.]
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Jayce promised... He can do it. It isn't... the same for him. He doesn't have to rely on the terrible hope it can offer someone.
[He turns just enough to look over his shoulder at Scien.]
Do you see now? Why I wanted to talk to you? Why I wanted to find a different way. A better way.
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but rather, he instead makes one simple statement:]
I do not have a better way.
[the void shifts.
Scien Brofiise was born as a non-human. (STOP at 1:23:48)
Atrocities. Horrors. Acts of evil.
For the sake of preserving life, Scien Brofiise decides who will perish at his hand. Death row inmates come into your office, uncomprehending until they are sedated, put on operating tables, and reveal the innate secrets of the human body. Some of them scream, plead, beg for mercy from the one that this country calls their god. However none but you are there to hear them—to ignore their cries for forgiveness. They didn’t mean to brutally kill those women. They didn’t mean to test their blade upon helpless children. They didn’t know that it would end up like this.
Gargling on their own blood, choking on their own tongues, feeling their bodies warped in the name of science.
Your mother has been killed. Your grandfather and father lost their lives before their dreams could come true. Your own sister—the one who used to tug on your ear for misbehaving or ruffle your hair in pride over your accomplishments—abandoned you. How disgusting to share the same DNA as someone so vile.
And yet, you feel nothing. A ripple of muted surprise, and then gone. No tears are shed.
The people have no need for a god that can still feel remorse. Emotion would only slow you down. So instead you pick up another scalpel to slice through flesh and hold someone else’s beating heart into your hand.
You know this is what an average person would call evil. You know that this is inhumane. And yet, you don’t stop.
You just don’t want to be mistaken for a saint, when all you are is a sinner.]
no subject
As if Viktor didn't fill Othered enough. The--memory? That's what these are, right? The memory startles him. He comes out of it holding his own throat with one hand, disturbed by... by the lack of feeling he has.
Not much else is different. The boredom, the clawing desire to learn, the create. He's tender for others, but he isn't sure if he would ever not be that way. Maybe he would also lose his humanity sooner or later in the pursuit of a perfect form.
He hates how little difference there is! He does not like standing back to back with Scien Brofiise, two sides of the same coin. In a way, he now understands Scien a little better, too.]
You... [Why is this so frustrating?] But you... said... you figured it out?
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but scien just stretches idly after witnessing his own memory, looking almost bored from it. he does not look away from his horrors, but they no longer surprise him. he has always been exactly aware of what he's capable of. he turns to viktor at the question and tilts his head]
Yes. I am closer than I ever have been, and will likely be able to devise the solution in a matter of months.
[ . . . he frowns. his gaze drifts to the side, irritated - but mostly with himself.]
However, I made little progress for sixty years. Adjustments were made to Reliver survivability, but never enough to live to a 24th year.
But I mean to say simply this: even if you seek salvation, know that my way was far bloodier than yours. Intentionally so. It is not a better way, because too many lives were sacrificed at my hand. It is just as corrupt.
[but there is no joy said in this—simply a statement of fact. viktor had once said scien was far more a monster than he is. scien agrees.]
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Please be less bored with your memories, fucker. Viktor keeps his hand at his throat, but at least doesn't try choking himself anymore.]
That isn't the way you made it sound before...
[Which is irritating, but... he doesn't have the energy to pursue any sort of spite or argument about it. Scien might not give a damn, but he's getting tired.]
You could have just said that to start with, you know. When I asked. You knew why. You could have just said that...
[Scien would never say that, he knows this.]
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but also he tilts his head, so obviously a vibe of ? ]
My denial of you had nothing to do with this.
[he's also not showing any remorse about what he's done? he's acknowledged that he's the worst.]
What wrong assumption are you making about me?
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[OOOO. His brows furrow. The hand at his throat finally lowers.]
You could have just told me there wasn't a better way, and I would have left! Just because you can't feel anything like normal humans can doesn't mean I'm letting you off the hook for being arrogant.
You're too smart not to know better.
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[scien is soooooo arrogant and he's not backing down.]
The difference between you and me is that I get results.
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No. The difference between you and me is I understand there is no point in living at all if you think people like Sky turning to ash holds any merit to your successes!
The difference is I will never believe I'm someone's god or savior, no matter what help I can offer them.
There is always a choice. There has to be a better way.
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You can be as angry as you'd like that your greed led to accidents you aren't prepared for, but you're mistaking your experiences for mine. I'm nothing like you.
[but scien makes an open-handed gesture. even now, he's not angry. he makes factual statements. he doesn't consider himself a god anymore, no, but he will always save more lives than he harms.]
Go ahead then. Find your better way.
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Eunhyuk. Will you sacrifice him? He murdered me. Sheba? Liu Shouxue? They murdered others. Me? I murdered Sky.
[His hands ball into fists.]
We are nothing to you. Look me in the face and tell me you wouldn't. That you think you're smart enough to sit on the other side of that line and let your workers and companions live even if it meant finding the answers to whatever puzzle has been working you raw.
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I've been alive over eighty years. I can say with certainty I wouldn't. There's little point in telling you since you clearly aren't listening but I want to be clear: even at my most desperate, I didn't lose my regard for life.
You're right that none of you mean anything to me. But also none of your crimes are worthy of death. It's something called nuance. Are you familiar? The three of them were possessed and you—for all that you annoy me, you're clearly just stupider and more emotional than you think. You can't trust yourself. That's why you're projecting onto me.
If I truly would be willing to sacrifice anyone, why didn't I let Nosebleed volunteer to die to see if we could come back? Why didn't I kill you for stealing my life's work?
[scien at first glance is a mess of contradictions. sometimes violent, sometimes apathetic, sometimes cruel, and sometimes a person's only hope of salvation.
it's all true.]
I've already admitted I'm likely more evil than good. So why bother acting so self-righteous?
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[These two are rams who keep smacking their horns together stubbornly.]
You can change. That's the point. You keep falling back on the excuse of knowing you're evil. Change then. There's no progress without change. As a scientist, you know that.
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