standalonehuman | Recolle IC Inbox

Forget the ancestors, and social context, then. Are you still who you are in a vacuum?

Without other people telling you who you are, there is still a piece of the individual that remains in spite of all of that. We keep speaking of the shared unconscious, that knowledge of humanity that flows between everyone. And the possibility that Retrospec is manipulating that, in order to change how everyone sees the world.

But there is still a part of you that they can't touch. These new memories that you're seeing are just that. They're new. Layered on top of what you already know to be true about yourself. Ghost, soul, true self, whatever you want to call it, they still can't touch that.

No matter how loud they say their lies about you. Those who know you well will know the difference.

[It takes Tim a little while to respond. Stepping back for a second, he realizes how ridiculous he (thinks he's) acting.

Is he still Tim in a vacuum?]

Theoretically, I'm not Tim in a vacuum if there's nothing to judge my existence against.
How am I Tim if there's no outside stimuli?
Not to blow holes in your ship, Officer Togusa.

[But he thinks about Conner, his friend. Those who know you well will know the difference. Would Conner still know he's Tim, no matter what Retrospec says?]

Are you trying to say we shouldn't stop Retrospec from divvying out information, even if it's a lie?

Hell no! These assholes have crossed every line imaginable, and we're stopping them. Period. Handing out information and weapons and messing with people's heads? No, they get stopped.

But part of the job is to help the people affected before we can put a hard stop to it all.

[Answering his questions in reverse order because hell no. The only thing more ridiculous than what Retrospec is doing is the idea that Togusa wouldn't do his job.]

There's a couple of ways we can look at the question of Tim in a vacuum. What are the internal pieces of yourself that you've never told to anyone? You can debate whether you are your social self or you are your internal self, or whether you are the interaction between these two concepts. But whatever piece of it makes up more of your sense of self? You can't deny that there is a part of you that is entirely removed from anyone else.

That last part of individuality.

[Oh. Thank God. Tim is relieved in the sense that Togusa continues to be on board trying to stop Retrospec regardless.

Help the people affected by it. Okay. The longer this continues, the less he considers Taking Down the Corporation and more Altruistically Available.]

Just checking.

[Tim at the core seemed initially to be a boy zooming straight into college for career reasons. Because it was expected of him. Because he was bored with the monotony of excelling.

Further, a drive, insatiable. A desire to mean something. To be important, intellectually. To be shit with friends because he's embarrassed by his inability to Social correctly.

There's something missing, something that makes his brain hurt just behind his eye, in the socket, sharp and aching. Wanting to go home when he touched the tubing in the building.

But it's all wrong. The stairs were too wide, too elaborate. Just a glimpse of it. The foyer in the front too open.

He tried to forget it like a dream, and yet, he thinks about it again when trying to think of himself.]

How are we supposed to know?
If we're in a vacuum, how do we even know we exist at all?

[Going at it too logical.]

I get what you're saying.
I just don't know if it's possible when some random corporation altering everything.

[While the part of this equation that they have more direct control over is how they react to what Retrospec is doing, Togusa is completely not on board with letting them do whatever they like. He remains determined to do his job. But maybe the reason he is so driven now is because he is waiting for a similar crisis to come to him, that Tim is struggling with. Will he still be so confident when he starts to remember?]

This isn't something that we're just all going to be able to overcome at once. Retrospec's game is to get us to keep questioning ourselves and each other.

So, keep something. One thing that you know to be true about yourself, that even they can't take away. And hold on to that.

Even if, like you suggested earlier, you decide that you like this version of yourself that Retrospec is telling you about? There's still something that you can keep to yourself, so you know it's your choice to change your behavior, and not their influence.

So where do we go from here?
Send out some kind of PSA over the network about "holding onto yourself"?
Are there even any decent therapists in this city?
Everyone is still going to be worried about losing themselves.

[Or remembering.

Tim thinks about the Titans. Teen Titans. He doesn't know what the hell it means. Just a group of them. Why?]

Did you get anything yet? Be honest.
About who you think you are.

[Wellllll fuck, Togusa just can't quite bring himself to lie about this when he's asked directly. Especially while Tim is in the middle of his own crisis.]

Mental? Not a thing. No memories out of place. No sudden flashes like other people have been describing.

Just a scar from a bullet wound to the chest, and a gun from Japan in the mail.

No memory of the gun, and I've never been shot.

It could mean anything. I'm a cop, I could have been shot in the line of duty. Do I sit here and worry about whether I broke the law in a past life?

[Well okay YES, he IS, and it's all your fault, Tim, but he isn't going to say that right now.]

Or do I keep reminding myself of what I know to be true?

[A scar and a gun. But does that mean Togusa is an officer of the Law, or a criminal yakuza?]

Okay, hear me out:
Curing psychological ailments with memory altering is one thing.
But if these are false, how do you know people won't change by accepting them?

What I said about being a serial killer. Maybe they're not. But what if they feel like it's a part of them that was missing? What if they accept it and become what they've been told? A killing machine, suicidal, hell they could jump off a building thinking they could fly.

But you said you had a scar? That's physical. It doesn't make any sense.

[Togusa has to lean back in his chair and think about Tim's idea a lot. What Retrospec is offering is a chance to remake yourself, if you accept what they say. But it is an affront to people who already are comfortable with who they are. Togusa can handle it. At least he thinks that he can.]

[But what if?]

Maybe that's why they're keeping tabs on us. They're behind the memories that we're regaining, or at least they can track them. But that's why we can't get rid of the application, why we can't shake the surveilance.

What if it's to keep everybody else safe from us?

We can't depend on Retrospec, but, damnit, you're right. This goes even beyond just stopping what they're doing, but undoing the damage that they're up to. If we can be changed, we can be changed back.

Okay, so we're some kind of weird and messed up Freudian experiment.
Great.
Are You really You when it's all said and done, the next hit late-night show.

What do you think Retrospec has the ability to do if one of us goes bonkers?

That's when we see the hood-and-unmarked-van option that I now regret making jokes about.

Uh, related question:
Has anyone been reported missing yet?

Not to my knowledge, but now I'm going to go look through reports.
Because you're right, that's a serious problem.

[Which is the most polite way he can put it when he is swearing a lot on his end.]

[Good work, Officer.]

I tried to check in on one of the people who went into the building with me, but couldn't get in touch.
I mean, they could've moved.
Just after the building, it seems weird.

Who was it? I can look easier if I know what name I'm looking for.

[Togusa actually has a quiet bet on who it is.]

hang on

His name was Luke Triton.

[There's a short delay; he's probably looking.]

The other person we went with was Micah Tsukuyomi.
But I haven't tried to contact them yet.

LUKE?

[Visions of a missing 12 year-old are now dancing through Togusa's head, thanks a lot, Tim. Nope, nope, he is stopping EVERYTHING else to check on this.]

I'll call you back as soon as I have something.

WAIT
I don't want to be a suspect in his disappearance if he's missing.
Are you doing this in-house?
He was with me when we went to Retrospec. Twice.

[It's caring about people with Togusa, right?]

I want to find out what happened to him, too.
Please.
He was just a kid.

I can find his address without alerting anyone else that I'm doing it. School records are nice that way.

Just a drive-past. I can do that without involving anybody else. If I don't find him, then I'll start checking the missing person records.

He is just a kid. With any luck, Retrospec just decided to let him go, and he's still at home with his parents, and thinks horses are a made up creature again.

If you're worried, I can let you come along.

[SCORE.]

Meet me in the dorm parking lot?

Certainly.

It's about a half an hour later when Togusa's car rolls up. It's his own car, a small white sedan, not a squad car. He's still in uniform, but at least he's making some effort to be less conspicuous.

Togusa leans across to unlock the door after he parks. "Drake," Togusa nods. "Got Luke's address from his school. He's still listed as an active student." Which Togusa sounds hopeful about. "If he'd been missing school, there might have been a truancy note, but that takes time for somebody to notice. I'd still rather go check on him."

Thank God for the lack of cruiser. Not for Togusa's sake (sorry), but for Tim's; too many people would be asking him questions about being in with the Recolle police. No thanks.

He springs off the cement steps when Togusa pulls into the drive, and he doesn't seem to be as prepared as usual (he still is) with backpack, etc. Just Tim, casual, and the smartphone in his hand.

"Maybe they moved inside the city?" he poses as he drops into the seat, buckling like a good little boy. "I don't know where his house was before; we met in the park before going to Retrospec." Not that, to be honest, Tim isn't relieved. It's better to know people are safe, and yet...

There's some disappointment at the good news. He thought they may have been onto something big, a way to actual accuse Retrospec of foul play.

Hmm. Togusa nods a little, "We can check at the park, too, then, if the address doesn't turn up anything." He pulls off from the curb and starts to drive.

"Luke is kind of an adventurous kid, anyway. I get the feeling he's not the type to sit at home, even before any memory changes. It was hard to tell him 'no, you can't investigate things' because I was certain that telling him no was going to mean he would do it anyway and just not tell anyone where he was going."

Togusa knows the University well, slipping through a few back roads to skip some traffic lights as he winds through the buildings. "That's why he ended up in there with you, hunh?" He glances at Tim. He doesn't mean to make him feel guilty for bringing someone so young along with him, but now Togusa knows why Tim was trying to protect the identity of whoever had helped him out.

"I could tell," he agrees. About Luke. "He was already going to the Retrospec building when he ran up on me the first time. I recruited him for madlibs since the building wouldn't open otherwise.

"He seemed really curious, and he was eager for us to go back again to see what happened to the building." He's hoping he didn't get Luke into any kind of unnecessary danger.

"I--know he was young and all." Tim doesn't follow up with anything for a moment, then he adds, "But I would've been the same way at his age. I was. And Retrospec--the building--didn't seem to be doing anything dangerous."

Togusa shakes his head, he's quick to try to calm Tim's anxieties. "It wasn't dangerous, not really. Even when that place was affecting us, it wasn't anything that hurt us. I ran into him when he was trying to check the building out once. I couldn't talk him out of it."

"He was safe with us. And if Retrospec was going to get retributive about what we're doing? They'd start with someone else." Like the two people in this car.

Togusa lets the silence stretch on for a few moments as he drives. "Or maybe not. Who knows who Retrospec was trying to tell Luke he really was. I keep running into people way too young," he nods towards Tim, "your age, younger, who are getting really violent memories. Monsters and fighting. Feels like Retrospec's trying to convince half the city that they're child soldiers." Togusa's grip on the wheel tightens. "If they've let Luke go, maybe that's better for him."

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