The Midnight Hotel January catch-all

[gistful]

Characters: Anyone, everyone.
Date: Month of January, 2016
Location: The Midnight Hotel
Situation: Catch-all post! Feel free to use this post for anything that happens within the Midnight Hotel over the month of January, using the subject header to label specific rooms or for specific people. Please also see the OOC note at the bottom.
Warnings/Rating: None thus far.

The Midnight Hotel was among the few buildings which showed no sign of having been damaged by the invasion six months ago. That followed, of course; the Hotel hadn't even been present. But either way it stood out, and many of the kedan knew by now that the building, so different from the architecture of the rest of the city, was a safe-haven. Too many mistook it as a Foreigner safe-haven alone, but not all; even now there was usually one or two kedan present.

Some of them were gang-members, ones with whom Anton had forged closer relationships before the Foreigners' year-long disappearance or simply those who chose to visit in defiance of the general public's opinion.

Anton had taken great pains to give the Foreigners structure and normalcy. While the means of payment were, in some cases, not much more than an illusion, he gave as much in the way of purpose as he could. As a result there were now many Foreigners on staff at the Hotel, though of course the rules were still in strict effect. Anton himself was readily available at most given moments if needed for assistance, questions or otherwise.

There was also an oddity in the lobby: a construction in one of the corners where a long bank of three public consoles was being built. The Metalworkers responsible for its construction were generally taciturn and more concerned with their work than with interactions, but they didn't seem worried about being observed or by the close proximity of the Foreigners.


[ooc: The Midnight Hotel's status page is available here, with the rules at the top and ongoing status at the bottom. PLEASE POST TO THE STATUS PAGE IF YOUR CHARACTER WOULD LIKE A ROOM. Anton will manufacture means of payment until Foreigners are able to properly offer recompense or choose to move out, so you can assume they're 'paying' in some method.

If you have a specific job for your character to do around the Hotel (eg working the kitchen, security, house chores) please also note that so I can keep track of Anton's casual staff.]

Comments

BACKDATE: 16th December 2015; CLOSED to Callaghan

[gistful]

It was becoming clear, by now, that avenues in and out of the city were still open--for the Foreigners, at least. Anton wasn't entirely surprised, but he was curious as to the processes now that Eva was dead. Could the Hotel wards be amended to take advantage of that opening? If so, did it mean Anton could return in the safety of the Hotel without losing his memories?

A hypothesis to pursue, though certainly not at the expense of Anton's current patrons, which left Anton to the task of assessing the Hotel for proper maintenance. There were several semi-mechanical systems in the kitchen which needed cleaning, and the wards themselves had been scrambled so many times lately that parts of the walls needed repair.

The wards were keeping up for the moment, given a few reroutes and leaving the lobby bathed in the glow of illuminated sections of scrolling script on the walls. That had occurred in the morning. But it was just after lunch that Anton was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in the fridge's half mundane, half magical mechanics. It was an old fridge, bought when fridges only just became domestic in use, but updated over the years with magic.

That might have been a mistake, in retrospect. Anton should have put more effort into maintaining the mechanics. The incinerator was going to be in similar condition--if not worse, after the tainted weapons Anton had destroyed in there.

let me know if this doesn't work?

[pushtheboundaries]

Though still clawing at some sort of understanding of this place, the good professor Callaghan has at least been directed to what is the 'safest' area. And that is, apparently, 'a magical hotel that sort of exists in its own pocket dimension'.

There is not enough tea or coffee in the world for him to come to terms with this. Or any world. Or dimension. Or...whathaveyou.

He's at least found a somewhat secure place for the microbots - secure enough for him to pack them in, and feel (relatively) assured in them remaining safe until he puts the band back on. So when he steps in to the hotel, he may still be garbed in black, but the mask and hood are both pocketed and he can at least pass as harmless.

Maybe.

Possibly.

The lobby looks normal enough, at least, and he takes a few moments to appreciate the decor before even considering looking for anyone to talk to.

that's fine!

[gistful]

A gentle pulse ran through the Hotel's wards, the one attuned to Anton's keys and which let him know someone new had entered. It wasn't the best of timing, but the Midnight hotel aimed to please, so Anton made sure nothing would collapse in the interim and then rose.

He took a rag with him into the lobby, wiping off his hands, and showed very little indication the newcomer's appearance was in any way strange. To Anton, it wasn't. "Good afternoon," he said. "Welcome to the Midnight Hotel. How may I be of assistance?"

[pushtheboundaries]

And there was the local help. Or- well, at least offering to help.

"Afternoon," he returns as he turns to face them, studying the man for just a moment. They seem normal enough, too; perhaps this whole 'magic' thing isn't as pervasive as he'd feared. "I suppose I'm here to look for a room, until I can get my feet under me."

And now, a bit of frustration in his face; he doesn't particularly like accepting charity, and, indeed, has always been proud of his ability to sustain himself. Even simply taking a roof in over his head, without any sort of favor offered in return...

"I could trade some work for it," he adds after a moment.

[gistful]

Anton certain seemed ordinary--nothing much to speak of in terms of face, though tall and with the smooth stride of someone who had once been a soldier. He seemed almost serene, however. Unflappable, and steady.

"Certainly," said Anton, moving to the desk and putting the rag on the corner where it couldn't get oil or other fluids on the ledger. "I find that having a purpose with which to occupy myself is an excellent way to spend the time." That is to say, finding something to do was much preferable than simply accepting charity.

"What is your name, please, and what sorts of skills are you willing to offer?" If there was nothing the man had to offer Anton, he could always trade the help to Jack and the completion of the Welcome Center.

[pushtheboundaries]

Distant memories of his time in the military tugged at Callaghan's mind, but he brushed them aside to follow Anton forwards. "I don't particularly enjoy being bored, no," he confirms with a small smile. "My name is Robert Callaghan," he adds...before pausing.

It's one thing to say that he was a professor at SFIT- but what good is that in this place? The difference in here and there is like a slap in the face, and who's to say this man would even know what he's talking about if he described how he taught complex theorem like the laws of robotics?

"I know machines," he settles for saying, after those moments for thought. "This place is at least a century behind what I'm used to."

[gistful]

"I am Anton Shudder, the proprietor," Anton said, and carefully wrote the name into his ledger. It was the sort of carefulness of someone who took painstaking care in their literacy skills--in this case, because Anton had come to them late. Fortunately, 'Callaghan' being an Irish name meant Anton already knew how to spell it.

But at that Anton looked up. That was fortuitous. This was the second day he had been looking at the fridge, and he wasn't looking forward to a third.

"Ah," he said. "Then I do have work for you, and if it should take longer than the length of your stay I would be willing to reimburse you for the extra time spent." He put down his pen and motioned for Callaghan to follow him into the kitchen. "I built this Hotel over a century ago," he said, "and installed most of the machine-based utilities as they were developed for domestic use. Over time I have upgraded them using magic, and neglected their mechanics; with the year spent in the Dreaming, the lack of time spent on maintenance has caused some issues."

As evidenced by the main fridge being opened and its parts bared. The others were sufficient to hold the foodstuffs, for the moment--but this was the largest, and the one most of the patrons used most regularly.

There were a couple of Foreigners who were likewise capable of such fixes, and Anton had met Tony Stark before, but he was young and seemed to have some trouble focussing on the constraints of a task. It was typical of a teenager, to go off on tangents in the midst of boredom, but Anton would prefer someone who wouldn't be quite so inclined to get too, ah, creative in his fixes.

[pushtheboundaries]

Oh?

Interest clear, Callaghan didn't hesitate to follow- though he did blink at the description of timeline. True, lifespans had grown long in the period, but that was still a remarkable claim. And machines 'upgraded' with magic...

Well, he supposed he'd have to see it all in action sooner than later.

"I don't know about 'magic'," he admits, "but depending on the mechanics, I shouldn't have much trouble with it."

A look at what he has to work with, though, and he's furrowing his brow before looking back towards Anton.

"May I...?" He tilts his head towards the fridge; if he's going to be trading some work on it, he may as well take a look.

[gistful]

"Of course." Anton extended his arm in invitation. "The magical elements have been shut off so I could review the mechanical aspects; since they provide the foundation of the fridge's workings, the magic must needs be changed to follow the mechanics. It should not be necessary for you to understand those aspects to do your work, though the other fridges work in much the same way, if you would like to see how the magic is implemented."

There was an equal chance that Callaghan would or wouldn't; either scientists and engineers denied the merit of magic or saw it as an extension of science they could not yet define. The magic from Anton's world was closer to the second than the first, since sorcerers had been marrying magic with science for nearly the last century; the main difference was that magic sprang from an immeasurable source.

The fridge will be obviously ancient, compared to what Callaghan would be used to. Though its appearance on the outside was fairly modern, the actual parts dated from the early 1920s or so. Magic was the only way they had even managed this long, which had worked well as long as there was no interruption. The year-long slumber had interrupted.

tmw you actually go on wikipedia to look this up

[pushtheboundaries]

"I-" As much as his instinct would be to delay or say no, Callaghan hesitated on his response. "-later," he settled upon, resolving to get that footing he needed before venturing in to such...things. There was a difference in pushing boundaries and in the concept of them being completely alien to what he knew.

If nothing else, at least this he knew - from history. Kneeling down by the machine, Robert couldn't help but make a low 'hnh' of thought and what could have been disapproval. He'd seen better work at the student showcase- by people who weren't nearly good enough to get in to SFIT.

"I'll need some parts and tools," he noted, looking back towards Anton. "Though it may be more efficient to just rebuild it." Assuming that won't, you know. Wreck the 'magic'.

/did this too shhh

[gistful]

"I have a toolbox," Anton said, and went to fetch it from the cabinet behind the boiler that controlled--magically--much of the Hotel's heating. Although the fridge's internal systems were obviously not much to look at, the toolbox was giant; the equipment of a man who did a great deal of handywork, did it well, and cared for his tools while doing so. Anton had been about ready to bring it out in lieu of the small fixes he had been managing with his smaller toolkit; either way, Callaghan would find everything he needed there.

Anton brought it over and opened it up. "The parts may be more difficult," he observed, but thoughtfully rather than as a deterrent. "The Metalworkers may be willing to trade for them; if you can give me a list of what you need, I shall approach them." He inclined his head. "If you feel we would be better served to build a new one, however, I will trust your judgement and endeavor to find the supplies required for that as well."

If nothing else, it would give Callaghan plenty to do. This fridge was the largest ... it wasn't the only one in need of maintenance. And then there was, of course, the incinerator.

im googling and like 'okay what technobabble could i put in here...ok freon bad n/m"

[pushtheboundaries]

"Metalworkers?" Well, assuming the name is there for a reason, they sound like the right people to approach. "I suppose I could rig up something if I just had the right materials, if it's going to be trouble to bring this to the 21st century..."

The knowledge that the microbots could help with this is not lost on him. If he had them now, he would hardly need the tools, except to perhaps work things in to shape. But looking over what he has to work with, that may not even be necessary; far more efficient, but only so necessary.

He's still trying to decide how much of himself - either side - he's comfortable with revealing in this strange place. Then again, for all its frustrations, it's not as though there's much he could do one way or another...

Rummaging through the box, he pulls out a screwdriver and touches the tip of a finger to it.

"You've got some bad coils," he notes, looking up. giving his diagnosis. "As well as a rusted compressor, but I'll need a closer look before I can figure out how much can be salvaged. Assuming it runs on electricity," and he stresses the term, because what else would it run on? Magic? "I could probably find a short-term solution with some time, a decent soldering kit, some copper and iron..."

He shrugs, lightly. He could go on, but it's clear he's looking for some sort of input from Anton as to what's preferred.

engineers eh

[gistful]

"They are the family of kedan who currently own most technological industry and equipment in the city," Anton explained, but he was gazing at the other fridges, considering their options. Copper and iron could possibly be salvaged from some of the plumbing and the hotel's refuse, since it was rare to find in Keeliai. Yet ...

"I would rather have it out of commission for longer and find a long-term solution," Anton said, and spent a second wishing Dexter were there, and that he was still able to conjure. "The coils should be fairly simple to replace, but I do not know if the kedan have reached the stage of building compressors wholesale as yet." Something to ask the Metalworkers about.

It was the lack of raw resources that was the main problem; with the proper engineering equipment, it might have been possible to turn raw materials into parts. But all those were at Stark Industries, and Anton rather doubted the Metalworkers' willingness to let them borrow the area for work they could commission from the kedan themselves.

At last Anton said, "If you require the time to determine what is salvageable, let us first make arrangements for you to do so. Some parts ought to be replaceable, but we may need to convert others to magic outright; if that is so, better to know first before we commit to repairs." He inclined his head. "It is run on electricity, if that helps, though the electricity is magically-generated."

And the water, and the heating, and the plumbing, and the lights ... though everything in the Hotel was built to present the illusion of modernity, in the event Anton had unknowing mortal patrons, behind the scenes most of it was produced by magic and channeled through mechanical means. So while the fridge had a plug, and the plug led into the wall, Callaghan might notice that apart from the boiler there was no evidence of power being produced (and even the boiler was more control and storage than generator).

PRETTY MUCH

[pushtheboundaries]

Right. Well, considering how much this sort of thing'd normally cost- it seems a fair enough trade for a room. And if he can work the microbots in, then it'll cut down on time considerably, once he has the materials. But it's getting those that seems to be the problem; so used to a variety of materials at his disposal, Callaghan realizes that he has been, perhaps, spoiled in comparison to these people - even with everything considered.

To be fair, he's also worked for everything he's ever had. In some way or another...

Magical electricity makes him wonder if there is, in fact, so much magic to it in the first place. Perhaps it's something they call magic, but is merely an unexplained science by their standards. The lack of immediate electricity doesn't bother him, considering that there should be no supply running to the equipment while it's being so examined; if there was, he would have treated it all very differently.

"Well then. I have a few things of my own that should prove useful in the repairs; I'll bring them in when I get settled," he noted, pushing himself up to his feet. "I'll take a closer look at the compressor then as well."

[gistful]

Given the amenities the Midnight Hotel provided with every room, people were generally surprised the rates weren't higher--though it wasn't precisely cheap to begin with. Still, Anton's insistence on manufacturing a trade was more a matter of mentality than need for business; few were the times he outright allowed others to stay without even that.

"Very well," Anton said. "I do have another utility for which I would appreciate the second opinion, however. I use an incinerator to dispose of the Hotel's refuse and I am versed enough to maintain it, but I am no engineer and I was obliged by the war's end to dispose of some magically poisoned weapons. Some insight into its condition would be valuable."

So saying he went to a 'staff-only' door against the far wall and on the far end, with the boiler beside it and a heavy steel door akin to that used for freezers on the boiler's other side. With a touch of his hand to the wall beside it Anton brought the sigils controlling the incinerator's functions to view, and with a long swipe of chalk down them interrupted the flow of magic to turn it off. He had to use a key to unlock the door, and opened it, and pinned it against the wall.

"This was not bought domestically," he explained, turning toward Callaghan, "but specially designed to contribute to the Hotel's economic capabilities. Its functions rely more upon magic than do the fridges, but there are still moving parts to be considered." The freezer repelled heat; the incinerator collected it. The magical energy produced as a byproduct caused by breaking the slag down into nothing was absorbed by the wards and used to facilitate power around the Hotel.

Professor Grouse had designed it nearly a century ago, at Anton's request, but it had been a decade since he had been past to upgrade its mechanisms. Still, it would be obvious to Callaghan that the incinerator was far more advanced than the fridges, and designed by a genius; Kenspeckle Grouse was the foremost expert on magical-science.

[pushtheboundaries]

Working on the incinerator as well wouldn't be a problem. Even...magic as it was, and-

-that was his first real display of magic.

Callaghan's eyes widened, mouth parting just a bit as he watched the- chalk. That was chalk? Those were what looked like runes and-

-right, he had a professional facade to maintain. Shutting his mouth, he recomposed himself admirably, following with only a moment's more hesitation. At least the incinerator looks simple enough, even with the difference in designs; still, he has to ask...

"I don't suppose there's some sort of...spell...that can draw the heat directly from...?"

He makes a vague gesture back towards the freezer. Just- hypothetically speaking.

[gistful]

Ah. Most certainly unused to magic, then, and not merely ignorant of it. Anton waited patiently for Callaghan to recover himself, and then inclined his head. "Yes, in fact. The freezer's premise is based upon the rejection of heat, while the incinerator draws it. Magically speaking, they rely upon one another."

The incinerator was cold now, because Anton hadn't used it in a few days for precisely this reason. Any energy required by other parts of the Hotel in the meantime were drawn from the boiler, which both collected water drawn from the air and stored the power produced by the incinerator while in use.

"The system was designed by a man known as Professor Kenspeckle Grouse," Anton explained, "an expert in the marriage of magic and science. He is not, unfortunately, present in Keeliai."

The sigils were primarily Anton's work, however. Though the colloquially known Viking runes had their similarities, on occasion, there were far more similarities with the ancient Irish Ogham; though in sigil-work the symbols were primarily circular in nature, multidirectional and far more versatile than either of the other alphabets.

[pushtheboundaries]

At least there's some sort of logic to it all. Maybe it was just an unexplained science, but- Callaghan briefly reached for his hair, brushing some of it back in to place as he mulled that over. A professor, then, like him, and not some sort of mage or wizard...

Right. He could take all of this. Just...approach it as a science.

"Too bad," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I could use a fellow professor's approach to this, but without him, I'll have to take this a bit slower."

Which was to say he wasn't quite about to throw himself in to embracing the whole concept, but he wasn't about to run out of here, either. But with a final moment to think...

"I shouldn't have a problem with the mechanics, as I said. If the...magic...is supported by that, then it should at least give it a foundation. Do you want to give me some time with it now, or...?"

He's not sure what sort of access he'll have to all of this, later- if he'll have to find Anton or someone else.

[gistful]

"Certainly, if you have the time to spare," Anton said. "Allow me to disable the spellwork inside, and then I can bring you Professor Grouse's blueprints--they ought to be current, and useful in lieu of the professor's direct presence."

He stepped in to deactivate the incinerator's workings from the inside, as a safeguard against accident or attempted murder. With those disabled no one would be able to activate the incinerator from the outside. Then Anton stepped out again to give Callaghan room to enter himself, and made to leave in order to retrieve Grouse's blueprints from his office.

The incinerator itself had a small space to stand, for maintenance or other such necessities; but the main part of the machine was on a raised section with a separate glass door. When the incinerator was activated the standing strip was subject to lethal amounts of heat, but outside the incinerator's closed door there was little to no evidence that it was active, save the glow in the window.

[pushtheboundaries]

"I think I can fit it in my schedule," he admits with a quirk of his lips. His rather empty schedule, mind, but that's the point of the joke. "Would you mind grabbing some pen and paper, unless there's some with the tools?"

He'd need to make his own notes on this, and has he began to take a closer look at the workings...the unsettling feeling that had formed when he'd seen the 'magic' eased. This, at least, made a sort of sense- and he was confident he could at least get it back in to working order.

By the time Anton returned, he was kneeling again, taking a closer look at some of the lower pieces. Gloved fingers carefully probing at the machine's innards, he seemed rather relaxed and self-assured, but why not? He had been given a problem that was well within his means to handle, and might just be a bit of pleasant work.

[gistful]

"Of course." Anton came back with rolls of blueprints and a large notebook, with pencils and eraser--there were more of them in the Hotel than there were pens. Too much of what Anton did was liable to be amended, updated or outright erased to be lacking in lead.

Callaghan relaxed significantly in that short space of time, Anton noted. A man who not merely enjoyed hard work, but delighted in it. Anton appreciated that. He let his footsteps sound as alert to his presence and came to Callaghan's side, putting the notebook and pencils on the floor beside Callaghan and then finding one specific blueprint.

"This is the schematics for the mechanics," he said, shaking it out and placing it down. "The stapled pages are the changes Professor Grouse made as technology became more refined--the most recent is on top. These notes--" He pointed at several bracketted number sequences written in a different coloured ink. "--indicate corresponding blueprints for the magical elements of the machine."

[pushtheboundaries]

The footsteps helped; if Callaghan was the sort to alarm easily, there was ample warning. As it was, he raised his head, then began to go back to the matter at hand before his attention was caught by the blueprints.

"Hn." All right, most of those made enough sense, but...his gaze did rest upon the sequences. If the same professor wrote those as wrote these...

"Is there a reason it's called 'magic' as opposed to a 'science'?" he asked, gaze falling upon Anton. The man had been nothing but professional and level-headed, and aside from his acceptance of magic, didn't seem prone to fancy; in fact, his acceptance of that was what made Robert wonder just how unexplained it was. There had to be something logical to it, some sort of explanation...

...but what?

[gistful]

Tony had asked much the same question, and hadn't accepted Anton's answer. Anton didn't know whether that was a result of Anton's inability to explain the context for which he had no directly knowledge, or simply a matter of scientists being driven to understand.

"I've been given to understand it's a matter of a measurable quality," Anton said. "A scientific source can be defined and ... recreated, perhaps. A magical source is usually an abstract, a concept." He paused to consider for a moment. "For instance--in my world names are power. Everyone has three names. A person's given name can be used to control their actions, and a taken name casts a seal of protection to prevent that. But a person's true name is the key to their soul. Someone else using it can remake the whole of their being, even script their thoughts. Someone discovering their own ... grants them god-like power."

Anton shifted to put down the blueprints in a stack against the raised part of the machine, so they didn't roll everywhere. "Where does the power in names come from? We don't know. How does one measure the quality of a name? You can't. That is the characteristic of magic."

[pushtheboundaries]

The concept of names having power wasn't an unknown one to Robert, but it was a fictional one as well. His bemusement was clear, but he was trying to translate it in to something he could understand...nothing simply came to mind. True names? Given, taken?

"And you can simply accept that?"

He knew there were, and would always things beyond his reach. But beyond the world's reach, forever?

Not in the slightest. He hardly expected it to be an easy path, but he wouldn't have appreciated it if it was. But where would he even start with that?

[gistful]

"I do," said Anton, and smiled. "Professor Grouse does not. He's a healer by magical inclination, but a scientist by choice, constantly developing. The necromancers, of course, are also greatly interested in elements of the soul, and ... the foundation of the world beyond the physical, I suppose one might say."

Of course, the necromancers were also a cult, so one had to take that with a grain of salt. Still, it was the necromancers who developed the soul-catcher, and that worked precisely as it was meant ... and sounds.

"One of my old unit," Anton continued, "was what's known as an energy-thrower. Ordinarily all they can do is generate energy in their hands, and use it as a weapon. Dexter figured out how to manipulate that energy into solid objects. It was a means of conjuration no one had seen before; he was something of a physicist."

Of course, Dexter hadn't conjured in over a century. He always said it required a mental stability he didn't always have ... and he hadn't had for a very long time. Anton didn't think he had even pursued incidental research on the matter in that time.