Discord
05-19-2020, 04:50 AM
From what the teachers have told us... the job application for counsellor has been open for about two years now, but no one has been brave enough to take it. I never knew the previous counsellor, never personally had reason to.
RIJK: I know there's no string of words that will magically help you, but... I'm going to try and help you get over the grief, however I can.
RIJK: Is there some way to let the memories just... be memories, maybe?
VOLLEY: I'm not sure I want that.
VOLLEY: I'm... not sure what to do...
VOLLEY: I don't know if my mind is capable of handling the permanence of death.
RIJK: Do you want to see yourself try?
VOLLEY: I... think so.
VOLLEY: I don't... need to splinter this mind more. It's just... hard not to.
VOLLEY: There's this... pulsation of... something like scraps pulling together.
RIJK: You don't need to deny that if you don't want to, but you don't have to actively have it happen.
VOLLEY: I'll... try. Sometimes it's... sort of temporary, and it falls apart in seconds.
VOLLEY: If I just... let the memories be memories, like you said, I think it'll be simpler to... dissolve.
RIJK: Eventually, there will be more memories overtop of those memories, too. You won't forget him, but you won't think of him as much.
VOLLEY: I know, but... right now it hurts. It isn't eventually yet.
RIJK: There's... one more thing I think I can do, if you'll let me.
RIJK: I can try and use a scrap to "soften" the impact of this on you, probably?
Volley looks away for a moment, out the wide virtual window the bunker dorms are equipped with, towards the view of a garden programmed onto each.
VOLLEY: Go ahead and do it.
I reach into my backpack and grab a scrap, a child's memory of being swaddled into a blanket after playing with their crayons, and I focus on Volley's mind. The resistance that meets me is almost as much a force of its own, sharp and monochrome and filtered like an old camera. I soothe the metaphorical spikes that result from it, wrapping them in memory and calming them down. The pain, fear, grief-- they all subside. Behind Volley has dropped something, shaped like a conch shell or a piece of candy, pink with black and white splatters of dots on the edges.
I check the scrap. It's Volley's memory of this very moment, in some abstract portrayal-- the sharpness and bleakness of grief subsiding like a crashing wave. I'm not an expert at identifying types, but I would guess evolution, or perhaps acceptance.
She hugs me before I can manage to ask how she's doing.
VOLLEY: Thank you, Rijk.
RIJK: Did you notice you dropped this?
VOLLEY: What is-- oh, a scrap. It's... hm... huh. That's interesting.
VOLLEY: We should take this back to someone at some point.
RIJK: Sometime, yes. Should we do anything more here?
VOLLEY: Nothing comes to mind. Shall we go?
RIJK: Perhaps we should wait for Torpedo to get back--
Ah, she's already stood up and getting ready to leave, taking the scrap with her alongside her things. Alright. I suppose I'll go with her, back up through the elevator to surface level and onward to the medical ward again.
I feel... it would be a good idea to call someone in order to get a briefing on the situation before we arrive there. I'm not sure who to call, though...
RIJK: I know there's no string of words that will magically help you, but... I'm going to try and help you get over the grief, however I can.
RIJK: Is there some way to let the memories just... be memories, maybe?
VOLLEY: I'm not sure I want that.
VOLLEY: I'm... not sure what to do...
VOLLEY: I don't know if my mind is capable of handling the permanence of death.
RIJK: Do you want to see yourself try?
VOLLEY: I... think so.
VOLLEY: I don't... need to splinter this mind more. It's just... hard not to.
VOLLEY: There's this... pulsation of... something like scraps pulling together.
RIJK: You don't need to deny that if you don't want to, but you don't have to actively have it happen.
VOLLEY: I'll... try. Sometimes it's... sort of temporary, and it falls apart in seconds.
VOLLEY: If I just... let the memories be memories, like you said, I think it'll be simpler to... dissolve.
RIJK: Eventually, there will be more memories overtop of those memories, too. You won't forget him, but you won't think of him as much.
VOLLEY: I know, but... right now it hurts. It isn't eventually yet.
RIJK: There's... one more thing I think I can do, if you'll let me.
RIJK: I can try and use a scrap to "soften" the impact of this on you, probably?
Volley looks away for a moment, out the wide virtual window the bunker dorms are equipped with, towards the view of a garden programmed onto each.
VOLLEY: Go ahead and do it.
I reach into my backpack and grab a scrap, a child's memory of being swaddled into a blanket after playing with their crayons, and I focus on Volley's mind. The resistance that meets me is almost as much a force of its own, sharp and monochrome and filtered like an old camera. I soothe the metaphorical spikes that result from it, wrapping them in memory and calming them down. The pain, fear, grief-- they all subside. Behind Volley has dropped something, shaped like a conch shell or a piece of candy, pink with black and white splatters of dots on the edges.
I check the scrap. It's Volley's memory of this very moment, in some abstract portrayal-- the sharpness and bleakness of grief subsiding like a crashing wave. I'm not an expert at identifying types, but I would guess evolution, or perhaps acceptance.
She hugs me before I can manage to ask how she's doing.
VOLLEY: Thank you, Rijk.
RIJK: Did you notice you dropped this?
VOLLEY: What is-- oh, a scrap. It's... hm... huh. That's interesting.
VOLLEY: We should take this back to someone at some point.
RIJK: Sometime, yes. Should we do anything more here?
VOLLEY: Nothing comes to mind. Shall we go?
RIJK: Perhaps we should wait for Torpedo to get back--
Ah, she's already stood up and getting ready to leave, taking the scrap with her alongside her things. Alright. I suppose I'll go with her, back up through the elevator to surface level and onward to the medical ward again.
I feel... it would be a good idea to call someone in order to get a briefing on the situation before we arrive there. I'm not sure who to call, though...