Scott's got no reason to be part of this meeting, but then, neither does John, and John's gone ahead and involved himself anyway. Kyrano's downstairs, doing whatever's necessary to accommodate his thefted doctor; presumably cleaning up and sterilizing an impromptu exam room. EOS had probably woken John, told him to get dressed and ready, and Scott had watched him creep down the stairs from the upper floor—in a pair of borrowed jeans and a blue and heather grey raglan shirt. It had taken Scott a minute to realize that these are his things, apparently laundered and lightly pressed, presumably deposited in the bedroom. He doesn't begrudge John their use, though he's mildly annoyed at just how much better John makes them look.
≫Scott Tracy.
Scott's still got John's contacts in, but has no way to answer. He shrugs and hopes she can see him.
≫There's a bug in the corner of the picture frame to your left. Tap your finger on the wall beside it to answer me.
Obediently, Scott's fingers find the edge of the painting and he concentrates as he taps out,
H - I - E -O - S
≫Welcome back. Thank you for helping fetch a doctor.
N - O - P - R - O - B
≫He says he's feeling much better. He was a little lightheaded when I told him to get out of bed, but this was expected. Otherwise he's been stable.
Scott can't help but imagine that she's rather smug as she tells him this, and a grin threatens on his face at just how seriously she takes her appointed role as babysitter.
G - O - O - D - W - O - R - K
Scott attempts a casual shift to make himself more comfortable against the kitchen's outer wall, and draws only the briefest glance from Penelope, whose gaze snaps right back to John, as he shifts on the couch, turns to face Jonquil. Across from John, Virgil's folded his arms again, scowling at the redhead and leaning back against the couch and making it plain that he doesn't understand or care for the interruption; this intercession from a stranger.
And I don't fucking like you. You or that redhead or your boss or any of you.
Scott winces inwardly.
At least the Lady's body language seems to tell the exact opposite attitude, her rapt attention, the way she looks at John like she knows him from someplace and the more he says, the closer she'll come to figuring out just when and where and how.
Jonquil's whole posture communicates casual indifference, seems to convey the attitude that nothing he could hear or be told could possibly be enough to affect him. It's funny to think there was a point, not all that long ago, when Scott couldn't sense Gordon's shape beneath Jonquil's colours. Scott's trying to work out just how many hours ago he had to snap the cockpit door shut, to block out the sound of his brother in a screaming panic in the back of their stolen aircraft.
He wonders what's true about this John's Virgil and this John's Gordon, that these two versions don't seem to terrify him in how far they've fallen from who they should be. That John hadn't been afraid to clear his throat and come down the stairs, to cross the living room and seat himself next to this Gordon—opposite that Virgil and the mysterious Lady Penelope, balancing the room. Scott's got no option but to continue to linger in the kitchen doorway, outside looking in, even as John says, "Agent Jonquil. You've met EOS."
Jonquil shrugs, scoffs, breaks out in the grin that's become his trademark, crooked and oily and insincere. "Sure. Kinda. Ghost in the Machine's not really a member of my fanclub, though, huh?"
Helpfully, in response to the comment, EOS splashes an assessment across Scott's field of view.
Name: Gordon Cooper Tracy AKA: Thunderbird 4, Gordy, Gordo, Agent Gerad Jonquil, I'm Not Calling You That, Squidboy, You little Shit Age: 24 (25? - estimated) Relationship to John: Younger brother (Younger brother) ((Imminent Threat)) (((Rescue victim))) ((((Torturer)))) [See appendix I] Relationship to : V. Reluctant ally: threat level -1 (Potential ally: threat level 0) ((Extreme threat to continued existence: threat level 10) [See appendix II]
≫He needs some work. But then, he never did like me.
L - I - T - T - L - E S - H - I - T
≫Right?
Whatever EOS thinks, across the room, John smiles faintly. "Not especially, but the list of people she's genuinely fond of is a short one. And it changes. It's only ever gotten longer, which I think is a point in her favour. Anyway. There's something I've needed to tell her, but the more I think about it, the more it feels like something you should hear, too."
"Well, lay it on me, Stretch."
"You know who I am," John says, with every layer of implicit meaning intact as he addresses Jonquil. But then his attention shifts, he turns to Penelope and Virgil, "You know that I'm not who I've said I am," he hazards, and then jerks a thumb in Scott's direction, makes him start slightly at the attention. "He's not my partner, he's my brother. My partner is EOS. EOS is a fully-sentient AI, an evolving simulation of consciousness, a multivalent digital entity, and I can keep stacking technical terms on top of each other, but they won't actually explain anything about what she is. So hopefully that's enough to make my meaning clear." John taps two fingertips against his chest. "Currently, her code exists on the hard drive I had implanted here. She's not a threat."
Virgil clears his throat in a way that sounds like a growl, "And that doesn't tell us a fucking thing about who the hell you are," he points out. The "and I don't fucking like you" goes unsaid this time, but Scott still manages to hear it on John's behalf. Still makes him feel cold all over and sick inside.
Penelope starts to shush him, quick to anger and irritation, but John cuts her off, looks straight at Virgil in the way that Scott just hasn't been able to, yet. Blue eyes lock with brown, and how the hell Virgil fails to see it— "That's fair. I'm not ready to tell you. For the purposes of this conversation—which I'm not actually having with you, by the way—let's say I'm a programmer, and we'll leave it at that. Anyway, I'm the far less interesting member of my partnership. It's EOS I wanted to talk about." He turns back to Jonquil, "And how she relates to you."
≫He didn't tell me he was going to do this. What is he doing. Why is he doing this.
D - U - N - N - O
≫You're just so staggeringly helpful. Really. Your utility to me must decay with age. You were definitely more helpful a few hours ago. That's a data point. You're on the decline.
Any retort to that is too long to tap onto the wall beside him and besides, something about her sarcasm seems to belie her anxiety. It's weird to think of, that she's someone else who knows another version of him. If she's got opinions about Gordon/Jonquil, she must have opinions about him, too. He wonders if it would be egotistical to ask her what they are.
Probably. Not really his moment, anyway, and he's always had a bad habit of stepping into the middle of John's moments. With the tip of his forefinger, he advises:
L - I - S - T - E - N
Because whatever the universe, John's always worth listening to. If Scott closes his eyes and listens really hard, in the moments where he waits for this version of John to speak, he can still hear his brother's voice; younger, bright in the dark, unwearied and so very, very hopeful.
You're the best person for the job too, Scott. You know you are. You're smart and capable and brave and you're the best pilot I've ever met. This could be so much more than just Dad's ego. It could be –
This John's voice fades back in.
"—there's a reason it's called programming, I think. I'm not a…uh, well, I've never been clear exactly what it is you do, Lady Penelope, but I'm not a spy. Programming is something people do, not something that gets done to people."
≫He says that, but I spent a few weeks playing with Pavlovian Conditioning and now I can play the opening notes of Ode to Joy and he'll scratch his left ear.
Scott's knows he's not what you'd call musical, but that's not beyond him. He licks his lips, whistles softly, Mi-Mi-Fa-So-So-Fa—
He goes ignored by Virgil, gets a weird look from Penelope, and Jonquil's too intent on John, who scratches his left ear as he continues, "Anyway. Fundamentally, programming's just language, built off of binary. It's about communication between two systems; between hardware and software. And I just—I got to thinking. About hardware and software." He looks at Penelope, "We've been talking about the wrong kind of binary, you and I. One, zero; on, off; yes, no."
Gordon, Jonquil, Scott hears, though it's another thing that goes unsaid. He's not sure if it's Gordon or Jonquil who's listening now. Not sure if he really knows what John's getting at, but it's hard not to be convinced by him, as he starts to hit his stride. His long fingered hands have come into play, like he's used to talking with associated gestures. Scott's John doesn't do this. Scott's John keeps his hands down at his sides, or stuffed in his pockets. Something about the way he uses his hands must work on Jonquil, like a puppeteer with strings, because the slouch has gone out of him, he's sat up and sat forward, like he's being told a secret he's been waiting to hear.
And hey, maybe he is, because Scott's feeling himself pulled in too. Even Virgil seems to be a little more engaged.
Because maybe John's smart enough to actually solve a person as though they're an equation. There's something happy and proud and excited about him, a bright gleam of cleverness and joy and pleasure at his answer, even as he lays it out. "You're not on or off or this or that, or him or him. Not an 're nothing so banal as a binary of numbers. You're a binary of stars. Two entities, both revolving around the other, or around a common center. You're hardware and software, you're a relationship between two people."
≫Stop him if he starts to get worked up about this. He gets excited and he's not supposed to get excited. There's been a minor uptick in his heart rate and he's not wearing his ear piece and you've got his contacts and I don't want him putting himself in vtach again and I HATE IT WHEN HE DOES THIS TO ME.
Scott blinks at this, text typing itself out across his field of vision at a rate that seems to convey irritation, worry and then the caps, conveying anger. He has to snap himself out of listening to John, all that brilliance and passion in him; and how in the hell he's never heard it before. His fingers twitch hastily against the wall.
H - E O - K
≫Fine for now. Just watch him.
No problem there, because it's hard not to. Binary numbers and binary stars, this is all stuff that Scott's heard before, from his own John. Context must be everything. "So, programming." John coughs, a little embarrassed, takes a minute to swallow and clear his throat. "Programming's just language, it's just communication. It's just the embodiment of that relationship. Hardware's worthless without software, software's nothing without hardware. Gravity's a relationship. Gravity's what keeps two stars from falling into each other and burning each other up, keeps them stable. It's a way of needing one another, partnership, equality. Hardware/software." He grins, shrugs again, and there's a flush in his cheeks, a light in his eyes. "Me and EOS," he finishes, a little shy.
Scott realizes it's not Gordon's secret John's just told, but one of his own. He's about to make a remark to EOS, some teasing joke to cement their budding relationship as the playful youngsters of this improbable cast. He's not sure he can pull it off in Morse code, never been as quick or clever as John is, but—
≫There. 114 bpm, please intercede.
Scott pushes himself off the wall In the same moment that the blond next to John laughs, flippant, and says the sort of thing that Gordon would say, "You are a huge enormous nerd, Coppertop."
"Someone we have in common once told me that you and I are more alike than we are different."
John's eyes cut to meet Virgil's across the room, and he starts to stand before Scott can clear his throat and tell him to park it. Before Scott knows it's happening—a moment changes from a zero to a one, and fills with more than Scott would've thought possible. In the same moment that his brother's face twists slightly, the moment his hand flits up to his heart, the moment the colour drains from his face and the moment his eyes go blank—
Penelope's halfway to her feet, probably thinking the same thing Scott had been—
—recognition floods across Virgil's features, sudden and shocked—
—Gordon's the one looking up at John, and not Jonquil—
And Scott doesn't see any of this, vaulting over the back of a squishy, floral armchair, because EOS has filled the space in front of his eyes with four letters, flashing, huge and red and frightened:
≫VFIB
A one flickers back to a zero as his brother falls. And life/death is the wrong kind of binary.
