3rd Code - audio

[winksandnods]

How in God's name do you all stand this?

[Too many long nights spent able to do nothing more than read the Journals, which provide no insight to the Malnosso. Too many cups of coffee and glasses of Scotch and soda. Too many questions he can't find answers to.

Anthony Blunt, to say the least, is on edge.

He's taken to drawing lately, more than he has in years. Though, unlike what he's told his fellows, he never really abandoned his art. His scenes are bleak, though-- Snowy buildings that loom and cast long shadows. Scabbed skin with numbers just visible under the wound. Complacent wraiths. All of the sketches are safely hidden in a journal kept under a floorboard in his bedroom.

He can think of no way in. The talk of "missions" he's heard have not seemed to endear individuals to the Malnosso, so volunteering for one would be only suicide, not helpful. Their captors have been silent themselves, there has been, so far as he has seen, no direct line to speak to them. Except, perhaps, just before Halloween, but he had not been in a proper state to ask questions then.]

Comments

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

Don' got much we can do, Mr.Anthony. [An apologetic, pursed-lipped smile.] 'ts best not think about it too much. It's the kind a' thing that'll keep anyone up at night an' make 'em go crazy.

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

That is precisely the thing. No one does anything. A few people run shops, though it is hardly of any use, as there is nothing to buy. A seamstress, I have heard of. At least that is something productive.

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

Hey, wait a sec, that ain't true... Even if we ain't out a' the barrier, people still do a lot around here. What about Pao-lin's art project... or that big Christmas party a few days back? Nobody's forgettin' that we's stuck in this place right now. We's jus' tryin' t'make good. W'doin' things that mean somethin' to us. I can stop trainin' anytime while I'm here 'cause I know I ain't gonna 'member nothin' when I go back, but I ain't gonna do that. It's important t'me. It's important t'me jus' like runnin' shops probably is important to the people who do it.

Why don'chya, iunno, draw everybody in Luceti? Guy told me y'good at art. If y'don' like that, you can teach people things, y'know? Or try somethin' diff'rent. Hell, I can show ya a lil' bit 'bout boxin', if y'wanted.

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

Wonderful ways of passing the time, no doubt.

But what do they do? What does it accomplish?

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

[Mac cocks his head puzzledly, as if it's a trick question.] They make y'feel better 'bout y'self... don' they? [He pauses, waiting for Anthony to agree - and hoping he would.] These lil' things, like paintin' stuff an' runnin' stores... they do got a lot a meanin'. Doin' them means... it means y'livin'. Y'know what I mean? [He struggles hard to find the worlds.] Y'livin', you ain't jus'... movin' an' breathin' but not thinkin' an' feelin' nothin'. It means you ain't wastin' away. Y'doin' something.

[He sucks in his lower lip, deep in thought.]

Yeah, so maybe m'training ain't gonna get me outta this place... But jus' 'cause it won' don' mean it ain't worth it. Is that whatchya gettin' at? That nothin' we do matters none if it means we's still stuck?
[His gaze lowers.] Trainin' here every day... it makes m'feel alive. It makes m'feel like... like I'm somebody. [After a long moment, he looks up.] ...Don' y'got somethin' like that?

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

Where does your food come from? Who built the house you live in? What do you do to contribute? To make up for what you take and use?

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

[He blinks, a little overwhelmed by the sudden string of questions that seem irrelevant to him.] The Malnosso gives us all that stuff... iunno what y'want me t'say. [He still felt a little weird, walking out of stores after picking out something he needed or felt he very much liked.]

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

Precisely.

They give it to us.

We do not produce, save for a few. We are subject to their whims because they have the supplies we take for granted. At any moment, they could choose to revoke them.

We are at their mercy at least partially because we have placed ourselves there. Yet all most citizens of this place seemed concerned with is their own personal enjoyment. Passing the time. Not surviving on their own, not furthering the community's self-reliance.

[Complacent wraiths, content to bemoan their situation without looking about them.]

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

[Mac takes it all in as best he can, not wanting to believe that he may be one of the people his friend is accusing of being lazy, selfish, mooching pleasure-seekers, from the sound of it. He isn't sure if he should feel angry or saddened.]

Look... I ain't sure what's eatin' ya or where this is comin' from, but... whatever y'goin' through... I can hear ya out if y'need somebody t'listen.

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

There is nothing to "hear out" other than what I've said. Most of the population here does nothing to contribute to the village, either to their own self-sufficiency or the community's well-being as a whole.

We are in the Malnosso's debt, if anything, as they could cut off supplies at any time, and the majority of us would die.

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

Y’know, maybe... [He stares into the journal’s camera lens, his gaze hardening.] Maybe when I was new here, I thought, yeah, I owe ‘em f’food an’ clothin’ an’ havin’ a place t’stay. Yeah, I’d die without it. But now… [He shakes his head, his jaw clenching with resentment before he finds the words.] No. No way. I ain't gonna feel bad 'bout takin' nothin' I need.

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

And if they take it away tomorrow?

Do you have the skills to find food? Do you know someone with the skills who you could offer something to exchange? Could you fashion a shelter? Make clothes? Make the materials to make clothes?

You're not taking anything they're not giving you.

[pugilistinpink.livejournal.com]

Wha... whaddya want me t'say, Mr.Anthony? [He demands exasperatedly.] Y'want me t'say I can't do nothin' on my own? Yeah, 'kay, I probably couldn't do many a' those things... but I'd sure as hell try somethin'. The Malnosso... [Another stiff shake of the head, his eyes unusually fierce.] I don' owe 'em nothin'. No. I... I won't ever owe 'em nothin'.