Ezra Bárány (futurism) wrote in commandhq, @ 2017-12-18 20:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | beau thibodeaux, ~ezra barany |
Who: Ezra and Beau
What: Do you even holo-lift, bro?
When: Monday, December 18th, late afternoon
Where: Hologym
Ezra wasn't really in the mood to bust his ass training today—it was that pitch-black time of year when the only things he could get enthusiastic about were sufganiyot and staying in bed. And he was probably going to have to make his own sufganiyot, tonight or tomorrow night. Still, here he was, idling just outside the Hologym doors, looking for some evidence that he might be able to get away with something today. Maybe an out of order sign. Maybe some heavy-hitter had been in here already, throwing cars around or whatever those guys did, working up a healthy appetite, wrecking some equipment. Shit is totally fucked in here, sorry for the inconvenience. Supers will be supers.
As far as Ezra knew, that had never actually happened, although he hadn't given much of a shit during the years when he was just in charge of designing a kickass Friday lunch menu. He could look into it, of course, flipping around mentally through layers of the past until he found some interesting Hologym-related disasters. That would probably be hilarious, actually.
The place intimidated him because the last time he'd fucked up in here, he'd ended up with a raging migraine, a weird nosebleed that had somehow gone upstream into a tear-duct, and a knee injury of the most undignified variety: very painful but not at all serious or impressive to anybody else. Two weeks of ice and Tiger Balm, no big deal. It probably made more sense to check his own future for anything that was likely to ruin his day, rather than entertaining himself by checking the past for "Hologym; previous unexpected but crazy awesome explosions in."
So that was what he did, a sensible search through the near futures to find out if he was likely to have bad luck and get wrecked today. The simple act of looking would usually make a good outcome way more likely, since he had the warning ahead of time. Unaware of his surroundings, the only things he could see were thousands of branching futures, possibilities each with their own weight and power, those that were frail as a single vein of a leaf and those that were heavy as redwoods, practically a certainty.
Anyone else approaching the Hologym, of course, would just see Ezra accidentally blocking the door, completely zoned out, eyes rolled back in his head. Situational awareness was something he was still working on.