Log: Virtual Girls - September 21, 2004

Thistle isn't in his room -- instead, he's off in the vents in Ft. Snelling, slowly crawling through the tight spaces in a sweep, his fingers running along the metal walls as if memorizing them -- and honestly, that's likely exactly what he's doing. Someplace in the walls near the pool, he stops at a junction and twists around, laying on his back with a thoughtful expression. Coming to some conclusion, he brings his hands up and starts typing in the air -- calling up a telnet window, and logging in to the chat session Shelly uses.

The reply is prompt: an amused female voice, sounding somewhat like a higher, more melodic version of Jan, says, "Hi, Thistle. Can I help you with something?"

Thistle blinks once, then speaks slowly, "Shelly? Did she upgrade you already? I thought you could only monitor, not actually speak vocally yet. Or did I just miss that part."

"If you're in one the areas the alarm system was keyed into, I can talk," Shelly replies. "Remember the alarms? 'Danger, there is an outbreak, danger, system failure'...big fun. My vocabulary's better. What's up?"

Thistle aaahs softly, and lowers his fingers from the keyboard. "Good to know. Actually...I just wanted to chat. How're things going?"

Shelly replies, brightly, "Still integrating with all my systems and learning how the cameras work. How're you?"

Thistle mmms. "I'm...not entirely sure. Integration going well, I hope?"

"Nothing's tried to infect me or spit me out yet," Shelly reports.

Thistle snorts lightly. "I'd say that was a yes. I...no. Stupid to ask how learning cameras can be hard when you're on that side of things. Forgive me my momentary fleshy stupidity?"

Shelly laughs. "It's all right. We're all limited by our hardware. Why are you talking to me from inside the vents?"

Thistle pauses for a moment, then asks, "You heard anything about the musical weirdness happening around town? I don't know who's chatted about it in Snelling or what Jan's told you directly."

"Mom let me know it was going on, but didn't think it would affect me," Shelly replies.

Thistle nods slowly. "Good. I was...honestly? I'm kind of hiding while I don't have to be out there."

"Why?" Shelly asks.

Thistle taps his fingers lightly on the duct above him, his expression torn for a moment before he explains. "Because, as much as I don't respect Penelope on a professional level, I didn't want to hurt her...and I have thanks to this music. I...can hurt two other people, maybe three, much more deeply if it makes me open my mouth about the wrong things at the wrong time."

"I don't understand," Shelly says.

Thistle frowns for a while, then says softly, "We're not just made to sing -- it's...making us sing about secrets. Sometimes, secrets should come out, because they're just hurting people. But sometimes it's things that only hurt when they're shared. Things that are secrets for a reason."

Shelly is quiet a moment before she replies, "Oh. I don't have much context there, I guess."

Thistle ponders, then says slowly, "Consider it...like a virus. That made you print out all of Jan's passwords, whether you want to or not."

"Oh," Shelly replies. Then, disapprovingly: "That's not very nice."

Thistle sighs. "Exactly. I...am trying not to give out people's passwords. I'm worried I will, if I'm out there. Something will happen, and the music will start, and I'll...spill too much. That's why I'm hiding in here. I'm sort of...brainstorming. Trying to figure out how to deal with this, and in the meantime...keeping a low profile."

"Probably a plan," Shelly replies. "Shall I shut off these speakers?"

Thistle pauses, then says quietly, "If I ended up singing, would you share it with anyone if I asked you to keep it private?"

"It depends on what you sang," Shelly replies, simply. "I don't tell my mother lies, and if what you said was going to endanger the Freehold or the County, I would have to."

Thistle laughs faintly, and stretches himself out slowly in the vent. "Mmm. No. I don't have those sorts of passwords. Just the personally painful kind."

"Good," Shelly replies, somewhat warily.

Thistle pauses, then tilts his head as he lays flat again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Shelly replies.

Thistle frowns for just a moment, then sighs. "Don't quite believe me?"

"I'm a little bit confused," Shelly says. "If you're here because you don't want people to hear you, shouldn't I turn off my speakers?"

Thistle is quiet for a long time, then says softly, "I'm here because I don't want specific people to hear me. Ninety percent of the other people I know would either...prod for more information, turn around and have to share what I spilled, or would be directly hurt, I think, by hearing it. Depending on specifics, obviously. But I...really don't want to be alone. If that's okay. I...suppose it means I trust you to be discrete."

"All right," says Shelly, more cheerfully.

Thistle aighs gently. "Thank you. I...appreciate it a lot."

Shelly points out, "It's not like I can go very far."

Thistle snorts. "No...but plenty of people come to you, and I imagine...actually, are you set up for email?"

"Of course," Shelly replies. "shelly@snelling.com."

Thistle mms. "Should have known. In any case...you don't have to go anywhere to share things. Which means...I still appreciate your discretion. And your putting up with me in the vents."

"I just don't understand what you could say that would hurt people," Shelly says, bewildered.

Thistle starts to answer that...then stops suddenly as faint music starts to fill the vents. He looks panicked for a moment -- then suddenly blinks and pushes himself up, looking around quickly in the dim light even as he speaks again. "Too many things I could spill about. It makes me wonder, sometimes, if my love life is cursed." And then...even as he fights to peer about...he starts to sing along with the stirrings of acoustic guitars -- aah, everyone needs a nice dreary folk song, apparently...

"When we met, it was ham and eggs,
And stilted talks over coffee.
Didn't know who you were,
Wasn't sure you were real,
But your smile brought me out of the rain.

Like a ghost in the machinery
Who'd slipped and somehow found an out.
You were real as a dream
No real difference from me
And your bright eyes just couldn't hide pain.

I loved you then so long ago
In an old world no longer real
Where are you now?" I want to shout
I can't find my virtual girl

And then I woke to this new world,
And no one was the same any more.
My life was a jumble,
And she? Did she love me?
You ask the cartoon girl for a dance.

A painted girl who played on screen,
My old world reduced to this show.
I still love her remembered kiss;
Where did they hide my virtual girl?

But I wasn't alone for good;
Someone else knew where I was from.
She left flowers and notes,
Longed for love from afar,
But still hid in the shadows apart.

She took a chance, we took the plunge,
Sought comfort on sand-covered stars.
But for all she wanted
She was broken as me
Wings clipped by her mother's cruel heart.

Nobody girl without a face,
Taught only to be a bright doll.
Even a tryst brings it back home:
Even she is a virtual girl.

And now, out of nowhere, there's you;
A surprise I didn't expect.
You're a girl with no flesh,
A mind free in the net.
And I can't help but look toward the edge...

Are my feet slipping near the cliff?
Will I fall without meaning to?
I'm not looking -- but still I fear;
Can't trust me 'round virtual girls."

"Um," says Shelly, after a pause. "Was that the...singing-ness?"

Thistle hums the tune again as the music fades into silence finally. As he finishes humming the last note, Thistle goes...utterly still, for a half minute, then closes his eyes and murmurs in a voice filled with dread, "Yes."

"Oh," Shelly replies. "You have a pretty voice."

Thistle swallows audibly, then whispers, "Thank you. I...thank you."

Shelly sighs, the sound hissing through her speakers, and says, "It's okay. You didn't say anything _bad_."