![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
"The worm lady," he says, pulling back from memory. "Yeah." He looks up to her. "Don't tell me Elias has a bug-thing."
"I think absolutely everyone from that world is going to have a bug-thing. With good reason," she adds. "I stumbled into the middle of that with Jon my first month on the Barge. Nightmarish."
She says that, but it's plain on her face how little she means it. That- that expression is pure yearning.
She says that, but it's plain on her face how little she means it. That- that expression is pure yearning.
He clears his throat at that and leans forward, hands on his knees. "Uh huh. Well, something else to keep in mind, but any bug related incidents is going to have your fingerprints all over it. So best to leave that as a last resort."
"Oh, by all means, please harass the shit out of him. God forbid he gets comfortable here." He sits back.
"Thanks for looking after them," he adds quietly.
"Thanks for looking after them," he adds quietly.
"Why is that?" he mutters. "He sounds like Cutter, Kepler's boss. Guess every universe has to have some sort of shitty psychopath to liven things up."
Too bad Elias can't have Cutter's fate here. Ah well.
He sits up. "Alright. Well thanks for the help, Taylor. I'll be in touch."
Too bad Elias can't have Cutter's fate here. Ah well.
He sits up. "Alright. Well thanks for the help, Taylor. I'll be in touch."
“Heh, mine is my boss too. And the guy who sent me here.”
She holds up a hand, and sends a dozen hornets to him - carrying a brightly colored little box. “I think we should keep this off the communicators, so if you want to talk, give this a hard shake.”
She holds up a hand, and sends a dozen hornets to him - carrying a brightly colored little box. “I think we should keep this off the communicators, so if you want to talk, give this a hard shake.”
"I was going to suggest smoke signals, but this works better. Is this one of those 'don't ask what's inside' things?" he wonders, taking the box and inspecting it carefully without opening it.
He tucks it into a pocket. "Guess I better not let Tim see it, huh?" He'll need to keep it in his own cabin, too. Away from Warren. He'll also need to change clothes to ensure Warren doesn't know that they met.
Damn.
The thought of keeping things away from Tim and Warren is daunting but there's also a bit of a thrill of the challenge in it.
"My cabin is usually empty," he tells her. "It's my workshop, so we can meet there if we want."
Damn.
The thought of keeping things away from Tim and Warren is daunting but there's also a bit of a thrill of the challenge in it.
"My cabin is usually empty," he tells her. "It's my workshop, so we can meet there if we want."
"As you wish," he says with a dip of his head and a small smile. He holds up a finger and leaps up into one of the sections of the book shelves to pick out a few volumes before floating down effortlessly and holding them out to Jacobi.
"These will help with your understandings of the basics, the various sources of energy you can utilize, as well as the scripts often used and some of the common components." He gestures towards the little chalk board he has.
"But I can get you started on the basic ideology."
"These will help with your understandings of the basics, the various sources of energy you can utilize, as well as the scripts often used and some of the common components." He gestures towards the little chalk board he has.
"But I can get you started on the basic ideology."
He takes the books and tucks them close, idly flipping through them. "Are these in English or am I also learning whatever godforsaken language you actually speak?" he wonders with a smile, turning towards the chalkboard with interest.
Because, of course, that's exactly what he would do.
Because, of course, that's exactly what he would do.
"Neither, actually," he says with a low chuckle, "which is why the first spell we will learn is one to help you in translating text and spoken words."
He's going to start writing out a few things, starting with the words magic = science + art + ???.
"You're a man of science, and so I know you will understand that when I say such an understanding can be as much help as hindrance, you will understand. It is akin to knowing a language similar to another, but not the same."
He's going to start writing out a few things, starting with the words magic = science + art + ???.
"You're a man of science, and so I know you will understand that when I say such an understanding can be as much help as hindrance, you will understand. It is akin to knowing a language similar to another, but not the same."
"Yeah, that's fine," he tells her. "I'll get that done today. Anything else?"
"Hm." He sets the books down on the nearest surface and finds a place to lean so he can pay attention.
"So what's the missing piece?" he wonders, gesturing to the board. "Science, art, and what?"
"So what's the missing piece?" he wonders, gesturing to the board. "Science, art, and what?"
He gives her a playful salute.
"Seeya after port, Taylor." He whistles a bit as he walks off.
"Seeya after port, Taylor." He whistles a bit as he walks off.
"Interconnection," he says with a gesture to the ??? on there, "how a material or word or symbol connects with other things, which depending on the object in question, can be very set... or which can be wildly variable."
He reaches up and touches a lock of his own hair.
"This... is a biological piece of me. It was grown from my head, and contains my genetic material. Science connects what is in here with what I am in a way that is orderly and easily understood. But the magical connection between my hair and myself is far more variable and 'looser', for the lack of a better word. It is dependent on perception, on history, on feeling. Factors which are hard to define and in many cases hard to know."
He gestures to the books.
"One reason that many components are non-organic or animal based is because the variables are relatively fixed. It's what makes the magic stable enough to use reliably."
He reaches up and touches a lock of his own hair.
"This... is a biological piece of me. It was grown from my head, and contains my genetic material. Science connects what is in here with what I am in a way that is orderly and easily understood. But the magical connection between my hair and myself is far more variable and 'looser', for the lack of a better word. It is dependent on perception, on history, on feeling. Factors which are hard to define and in many cases hard to know."
He gestures to the books.
"One reason that many components are non-organic or animal based is because the variables are relatively fixed. It's what makes the magic stable enough to use reliably."
He reminds himself to ask Warren for his laptop back so he can get all of this down. For now, he pulls out his communicator to take notes just for himself.
Stretching his arms out in front of him, he crosses his ankles. "Alright, so - if you change the components around - " He hesitates, waiting for the answer.
Stretching his arms out in front of him, he crosses his ankles. "Alright, so - if you change the components around - " He hesitates, waiting for the answer.
"It depends upon the manner in which you change the components," he answers, "as well as which components you change. Certain adjustments may simply not work at all, while others will change the result and still others might have startling and unfortunate outcomes. In this way, it is very much like science, though the nature of the changes is where it becomes singularly more complicated and subjective."
"Which is where it's more like art?" he mutters. "Alright, alright." He sits forward a bit, his arms on his legs. "So I assume that people have gone through and fucked with the formulas enough that you know what you can change and what you can't?"
"As much as you can do when art is involved. The more experimental you get, and the more you substitute pieces, the less like the original result yours will be."
Jacobi's face shows exactly how much he doesn't like that outcome. He's too much of a scientist to fuck with parameters that have been set.
"Alright, got it. So what's first?" he wonders.
"Alright, got it. So what's first?" he wonders.
Page 24 of 50