mathemagier | IC Contact Post

Dear Dr. Gottlieb:

It is a pleasure to finally, properly, make your acquaintance.

(Though what do you mean? You got something against my looks? Should I be offended???) But what DID you expect, out of curiosity? Because you're giving me too much credit--not that I'm against accepting credit, but I'd rather it when due--about being your personable polar opposite. Social skills, as you've seen to great effect, are not my forte either. But whereas you don't speak until you're certain, socially, I fake it until I make it.

My main focus/study prior to the Kaiju, as you're aware, has been artificial tissue replication. If you would ever like a crash course on that to supplement your readings, I would be more than happy to provide. And I promise that isn't an excuse to test my powers. Purely textbook. Nothing gross. I feel that's a necessity to say: nothing gross. Just concepts.

(And I am aware it is a ridiculous number of degrees, Hermann. THANK YOU. As I told you, there weren't many worthwhile jobs for a bio-graduate who couldn't even legally drink.) --Sorry. Right. Thank you. I'm sorry you had to slog through that; when I get bored, I publish.

...So, to be clear, you do have my letters? The other half of the conversation, I mean, here. What sort of impression do they leave you with? What do they say? I'm going to go ahead and address the elephant in the room and ask if they tell you anything about what everyone else seems to assume about our relationship. Because yours implied... Well, I'll tell you what they implied after you tell me what mine said.

As for the Drift, I never thought we'd be compatible either, though clearly we are and clearly this world thinks we are as well. The awareness of your distance is a bit of an annoying side-effect and I could see how that could pose a problem given your power, but maybe that's why we're living together, to avoid the really aggrivating pull of "now where did I put Hermann?" Beyond that, I have yet to have more than a barometer of your feelings and maybe a stray Hermann thought here and there. How about you?

I know you're probably going to be asleep by the time I finish this letter, but I couldn't wait. I've never been good at waiting, especially not with your letters; I've never been more nervous or more excited about mail before or since. Am I rushing things telling you this? Maybe. But you were the person I was most interested in talking to for nearly three years. I am glad to have the chance to talk to you again like we used to, even for a while. Are you?

You don't have to answer that.

Anyway. Good night, Hermann/Dr. Gottlieb.
Or good morning, as you'll be reading this in the morning.

-- Newton Geiszler

PS. Since Kaiju are a no, and abstract mathematics seems a little hard to discuss unabstractly (pro tip: I do not work well in the abstract), what say you to a nice chat about stars? We don't have to talk about them the whole time, or even a lot, but then we have an ice-breaker and a fallback, if things become awkward or we need safe ground, or whatever.

Dear Newton Geiszler,

Admittedly your choice in warddrobe does not lend itself well to credibility or professional standards, and your tattoos don't particularly help your case. What I was expecting was a man I'd thought more similar to myself. Well-dressed, well-mannered, eloquent in his speech and uniquely charming. Not to say I'm charming of course, but I believe you meet that criteria in a fashion.

Yes, I have your letters. Rather than play a back and forth game of trading information, you can have them once you've brought mine. We can piece together the entire conversation then.

Running short of time before work, I'll wrap this up by attempting to emphasize that I don't mean any offense. I'm not accustomed to dealing in platitudes and seeing as we've been earnest through letters before, I'd rather uphold our history of blunt honesty with one another. Granted that was more about science than personal comments, but I'd remind you that you did ask.

I will see you at work today. Provided you're not tempted into celebrating the holiday of sorts, I'd like to try for a cordial afternoon.

Good morning.

--Hermann Gottlieb

PS. Perhaps lunch then?

Dear Dr. Gottlieb:

I think you just called me charming in a fashion?

How about we share information tonight, over takeout. The couch is big enough for two, the coffee table should be sufficient for a desk, and we can compile and go over our data, take notes, share resources, etc. I'll treat. What do you like?

Cordial is cool. I'd prefer we uphold blunt honesty, yeah, and I promise no April Fooling.

Good morning. Have a good day at work.

--Newton Geiszler

PS. Lunch sounds great.

[Hermann works very hard not to smile as he reads the short letter during an idle moment in the lab. Inevitably, he looks across the room to his lab partner and checks the time.]

We'll take lunch in an hour and a half, then. Should give us both time to reach a stopping point.

[He wraps up his own project within an hour and spends the other half tinkering with the small scale Jaeger-- Gipsy Danger, he's found her name is. Remarkable. A future model perhaps?

They go to lunch, and Hermann veers them away from the cafe around the corner to a deli a little further down the road where he seamlessly combines their orders amid a discussion about the utter ludicrousness of aliens having ever been of Mars.

It's a nice lunch, if not peppered with disagreements, but thankfully none of them get out of hand and they rejoin in the lab without incident. Not bad for a first date of sorts really. Except he suddenly finds himself marginally more anxious about the evening to come. Newton's side of the letters are rather incriminating and he's not sure their truce will hold.

So by the end of the workday he's feeling fairly frazzled and rechecks all his work before allowing himself to go home. The ride back and up the elevator has surely never been so nerve-wracking previously. He even fumbles a bit with his keys of all things, and the wonderful comfort of being 'home' fails to soothe his nerves.

Hermann retrieves the documents from his room and settles on the couch, attempting not to fidget while Newton locates his half of the conversation.

He's entirely forgotten about dinner.]

[Lunch is far better than Newt ever could have expected, and their second real "meeting" is pretty much filed away as a success. Arguments feel natural, but they're not heated. We're good together, he thinks perhaps too optimistically. They're good at engaging each other. Hermann is really far too clever for how modest he can be and even the ridiculous uppityness of his demeanor isn't too off-putting. It feels natural, their opposite personalities. Clearly this is why they work together: the ideas flow and bounce--they should have written a paper...

They return to the office and Newt thinks Hermann paid. That was sort of a date.

...That was sort of a date.

He tries NOT to think about that for the rest of the afternoon and instead tries to preoccupy himself with a combination of work and thinking about Joaquin's sexuality questioning.

The taxi ride home is spent with his nose in the phone, looking over this world's web resources for asexuality and sexual identity. He wishes it was more of a distraction, and by the time he's home and has the box of letters in hand, he's full of anxiety that might not even be entirely his own.]

So! I took the liberty of getting Chinese, because who doesn't like Chinese food, right? [And, well, there had been a receipt in his mess of stuff at work. He just...ordered the same thing they'd eaten previously, as older selves. Easy. Couldn't get it wrong (unless Herman didn't like his order...what if Hermann didn't like his food?? They'd been doing so well...)]

[A laugh as he puts the box of letters on the table next to the bag of takeout] There were so many take-out and delivery place numbers in my phone. It was ridic. You think we ever actually made our own food?

[Food. An excellent distraction. Hermann peeks through the containers and seems to intuitively know which of their orders are which. It smells wonderful for takeout and he can't resist a bite of chicken before turning his attention to the documents.

It takes a few minutes, but he's got them ordered together in a single pile before too long.]

So this is your first letter, and here is.. my response then. May as well start, I suppose. Unless you'd rather eat first?

[Newt scoops some of the food into his mouth with his chopsticks as he watches Hermann's long fingers pull out each letter and sort it into its proper sequence.

Mouth full, he shakes his head, then swallows and speaks.] No, dude. I've been waiting all day for this. Do you want to just ...read them, or should we take turns, you know, reading them aloud? [He points with his chopsticks to the first letter, his own.] For added hilarity, you could read as me.

Edited 2016-04-04 03:26 (UTC)

Oh absolutely not. No, I'd much rather hear what the real Newton Geiszler sounds like when he reads his own writing.

[He'd rather not read aloud at all actually, but his writing doesn't sound much different from his usual manner of speech. From what he's skimmed so far, he's only a bit more verbose in the future.

Hermann plucks up his container of rice]

So whenever you're ready then.

[It is a weirdly unnerving to read something he hasn't yet written, but will. It feels wrong, voyeuristic, as it had to read and watch their interactions on the network--removed from him, like watching old home-movies of a time when he couldn't remember.

It begins simply enough, and Newt reads it as if he was reading his lecture, with interest and variety, but still somewhat lacking the passion of a delivered speech, because he has no idea where this letter was going, or why, really, other than what could be surmised from reading Hermann's replies.]

"I promise future correspondence will be conducted in a more professional, type-written manner." Well, that was a lie, huh?

[Clearly this has been in response to a conversation that is now lost--unless it is on the network somewhere--to forgotten memories. But luckily, he has done a decent enough job of memorializing what it was about. They had obviously argued over calling their Drift a superpower. What a lame argument. How incredibly domestic, while trying too hard to be academic. It is cute, he finds himself thinking. Very cute. Almost like they want to argue. ...If it wasn't himself and Hermann, it would be extremely disgustingly adorable. (I'm seriously disgusting, he told Joaquin earlier. How true that is now).]

We've got to be careful with this thing. I've basically laid out the parameters and possibilities of our Drift, here, dude. [Hermann had, in his half, expressed concern about others knowing about their powers, and Newt can now see why.]

Hermann-goggles. Cute. [He keeps reading.]

...Together nearly 24/7. God. And we lived to tell the tale. [...And, after the room analogy:] ...Shit, do I ever shut up? And after all that, all I say is "Semantics"? Really, jesus. Take the pen away from me. [...He conceded a point to Hermann. Wow.]

...So these are the bulleted alphabetical points your letter discusses.

[Newt looks up, finishes the line, and stares at Hermann, concern and uncertainty tugging his mouth down into a frown.] "...there is no going back. The tape has been ripped up. Otachi Jr aside, our lab was our Jaeger." ...Otachi Jr.?

It's an exhausting letter.

[He wonders why it was written to start with, rather than verbally discussed. Perhaps Newton had only wanted to get it all down on paper. Hermann follows along, nodding as points he remembers reading crop up, and eyes the next letter in the stack. Still, that is a curious stopping point and his brows furrow]

Yes.. I wasn't certain what to make of that. Either the kaiju are breeding or you have awful taste in names.

You're exhausting.

[His voice rises in argument.] I do NOT have awful taste in names. I have GREAT taste in names. And I'm not saying they CAN'T breed, because they have to, how else are they made, but...we have yet to see any with reproductive organs. But that's not the point, Hermann. The point is...

The point is I don't know what I mean, exactly, but listen: "Otachi Jr. aside, our lab was our Jaeger." What do you do with a Jaeger? What do you know we did and what do you do with a Jaeger and we can't do it with our lab so what I'm saying is--what I'm saying is you'd never have consented to it, so clearly this is a mistake and--damn, if that's not a brilliant idea, though. I mean, if we could harvest a viable brain and--damn. We have the technology.

[He shakes his head. It's ridiculous. Hermann never would have, no one would have. But imagine what they might LEARN about them.

He picks back up the letter and tries to get the idea out of his head.]

Nine to ten years, Hermann. We went nearly a decade without writing another letter.

[His lips thin, Newton's flare of offense threatening to kindle his own temper. It's so easy, too easy, to affect one another like this.

But the thought of the kaiju breeding is enough to raise shivers along his back and arms. Does it get that bad?]

Don't be absurd, Newton. One pilot can't move a Jaeger without suffering neural overload. A Kaiju brain would surely be too much--

[And it clicks, or he thinks it does. Something settles into place at least]

You must have.. no, I'm certain? You drifted with one, and it almost killed you.

[Is that how he saves Newton's life? Like Dr. Lightcap had done for D'onofrio? Hermann quiets, unsettled]

It didn't almost-- [Or did it? Hermann seems to have hit the nail on the head with that one. He has a brief flash of Lightcap in his mind, like a connection of similar ideas, and--

No. No, that is impossible. That is... Not Hermann. But if anyone could have, with Newt--but no, why would...he didn't... He looks over at Hermann's quiet profile, and feels a swell of emotion starting in his gut and chest. Hermann cared about him that much as to risk his own life to--

He can't shake the idea of Lightcap, of D'onofrio, of what the press said about their relationship...and Newt thinks of the NYE video Joaquin showed him, and the conversation and Newt's yearning just to see Hermann. Even if it wasn't a romantic gesture, the Drift, it was terribly romantic, terribly loving in a way that went beyond both friendship and romance--

Why? he wants to ask, knowing Hermann himself doesn't know. Or does he, even now, years before the event? Why me? and Thank you.

He's been too quiet, gawking at Hermann, and Newt tries to say something, spew out some science, just to get himself off the thought that was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me, and I don't even remember it.]

Do you think we... Do you think a Jaeger slapped a pons on one of them and we--? No, that's ridiculous. That's really absurd, although, maybe if we could attach something we could control one and--

There's no way, though, I mean, a Jaeger is just a vessel for the two brains, but the Kaiju--that's like trying to mindcontrol. We have no idea what their brains are like, what they think; that's territory I can't even begin to guess at, their compulsions, their instincts--we couldn't be Drift compatible with a Kaiju...!

[Hermann fidgets under Newton's stare, self-conscious in a way that has nothing to do with his disability. He doesn't know how to feel about it at all, really. It's never been so personal before now. That he does it isn't a question; he knows he will- would now probably. Why? Well there's a thousand reasons why but none of which he can explain.

He sets his rice down]

I very much doubt the PPDC would have built a Pons specifically for a kaiju. Reread your bullet points regarding our drift capabilities again.

[It's a terrible idea, the nervous twisting in his gut informs him. But if they could find out for a certainty..]

Look, I get that it's impractical. I'm just-

[Newt grumbles and reads them, and again. And a third time aloud just because he's clearly not seeing what Hermann wants him to see. Obviously there had to be a pons involved the FIRST time, right? So what was he ...]

... Are you...Are you saying you think they're being mind-controlled? Or that they're mentally linked or something, like all attached wirelessly to a super-mainframe or some shit? [He shook his head] We're ghost-drifting, Hermann. That's all this is. WE are linked, not the Kaiju. An exaggerated ghost-drift enhanced by the Porter. You and me--

Besides! An intact brain is extremely difficult to harvest from the corpse; the skull plate is so dense that by the time you drill into it the brain's rotted away. You'd have to go for the secondary brain and those are almost always damaged by the battle. Jaeger pilots aren't nearly careful enough and their weaponry is too crude and the Kaiju too resilient to be killed u without causing a lot of blunt-force trauma or lacerations, rendering samples damaged beyond use!

...Although. [He considers for a second] If they WERE breeding, which I'm not going to say they are--well, clearly they are, if there's a junior, unless it's just a smaller Kaiju--but if they were? Theoretically, a fetal or newly hatched or newly born Kaiju might have a soft enough skull section for us to physically embed a line directly to the cortex and jack into it, as it were!

[But what could you even learn from a baby Kaiju? It's brain isn't even fully developed, it's instincts not yet honed. It's just an animal. Unless.

...Unless.

Unless Hermann is right.
If that were the case, the Kaiju would be so much more dangerous than they ever imagined.]

Holy shit--

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