Ep. 2 - Alone With Company [Closed]
Dec 3, 2014 1:57:50 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 3, 2014 1:57:50 GMT -5
Week 1, day 2
The monitor room, shortly after midnight.
------
Around the fourth time he had to get out of bed to quell the insistent urge to make sure none of the base’s proximity alarms were malfunctioning, Red Alert realized it was going to be one of Those nights - the kind of night where time slowed to a crawl while his mind raced in circles and refused to settle.
It was a pattern he was used to, one he had enough experience to develop a routine around. Since sleep eluded him, and he had no desire to chase after something he doubted he would be able to catch, he made the best of his restlessness and put himself to work on watching the security monitors. While most mecha seemed to dread the monotony of monitor duty, there was a sense of familiarity about the task that Red Alert found...calming, in a way. Almost comforting.
That being said, it hadn’t been difficult to relieve the nightwatch of their shift. All he had to do was walk in, sit down in front of the monitors, and most mecha took that as their cue to leave.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if anyone ever actually stayed--probably it in awkward silence without making eye contact until they finally took the hint and their leave, most likely.
With any luck, he wouldn’t have to test that theory any time soon. He was more than happy keeping himself company, thank you very much. Other people just meant half-hearted attempts at conversation and uncomfortable silence when those attempts inevitably crashed and burned. Besides, people were distracting and he was watching the monitors for a reason. Having his attention stolen away from the screens at an inopportune time could have untold consequences, should he miss something important.
...In the event anything important or sinister actually happened. For the most part, he doubted the likelihood of such a thing, but suprise suprise, that didn’t actually make the uneasy feeling making his mind reel and his plates crawl go away. He knew, logically, that the likelihood of the base being attacked by one threat or another was relatively slim, given the location of the base itself was classified, and (to their knowledge) had yet to be compromised by enemy intelligence. Unfortunately, what he understood logically and what he felt viscerally often came into conflict with one another, which lead him off and on again to where he currently was--
Sitting in the dark, frustrated with himself for feeling anxious when he knew he had no reason to, waiting for his mind to exhaust itself enough so that he could finally go to sleep and stay asleep. Usually he would try going on a patrol to speed the process along, tire himself physically so his treacherous mind had little say in whether his systems could power down or not, but...well, considering how well that went for him the last time he couldn’t sleep, Red Alert was reluctant to risk leaving the base alone at night.
Grimacing, Red Alert brought a hand to his jaw, his fingers rubbing absently at the row of still-fading scars that discolored the mesh.
Primus, but why did he have to think of that at such a godforsaken hour of the night?
The monitor room, shortly after midnight.
------
Around the fourth time he had to get out of bed to quell the insistent urge to make sure none of the base’s proximity alarms were malfunctioning, Red Alert realized it was going to be one of Those nights - the kind of night where time slowed to a crawl while his mind raced in circles and refused to settle.
It was a pattern he was used to, one he had enough experience to develop a routine around. Since sleep eluded him, and he had no desire to chase after something he doubted he would be able to catch, he made the best of his restlessness and put himself to work on watching the security monitors. While most mecha seemed to dread the monotony of monitor duty, there was a sense of familiarity about the task that Red Alert found...calming, in a way. Almost comforting.
That being said, it hadn’t been difficult to relieve the nightwatch of their shift. All he had to do was walk in, sit down in front of the monitors, and most mecha took that as their cue to leave.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if anyone ever actually stayed--probably it in awkward silence without making eye contact until they finally took the hint and their leave, most likely.
With any luck, he wouldn’t have to test that theory any time soon. He was more than happy keeping himself company, thank you very much. Other people just meant half-hearted attempts at conversation and uncomfortable silence when those attempts inevitably crashed and burned. Besides, people were distracting and he was watching the monitors for a reason. Having his attention stolen away from the screens at an inopportune time could have untold consequences, should he miss something important.
...In the event anything important or sinister actually happened. For the most part, he doubted the likelihood of such a thing, but suprise suprise, that didn’t actually make the uneasy feeling making his mind reel and his plates crawl go away. He knew, logically, that the likelihood of the base being attacked by one threat or another was relatively slim, given the location of the base itself was classified, and (to their knowledge) had yet to be compromised by enemy intelligence. Unfortunately, what he understood logically and what he felt viscerally often came into conflict with one another, which lead him off and on again to where he currently was--
Sitting in the dark, frustrated with himself for feeling anxious when he knew he had no reason to, waiting for his mind to exhaust itself enough so that he could finally go to sleep and stay asleep. Usually he would try going on a patrol to speed the process along, tire himself physically so his treacherous mind had little say in whether his systems could power down or not, but...well, considering how well that went for him the last time he couldn’t sleep, Red Alert was reluctant to risk leaving the base alone at night.
Grimacing, Red Alert brought a hand to his jaw, his fingers rubbing absently at the row of still-fading scars that discolored the mesh.
Primus, but why did he have to think of that at such a godforsaken hour of the night?