nexus_crossings | HELP HOW DOES I ANNIVERSARY

Good call, Jim. Commenting on any of that would not only spoil the moment, it would probably send the Cylon walking away without another word. As it is, that grin is enough to cause his gaze to flick back to street in front of them, his expression returning to its typical neutrality and the subject firmly dropped.

"Hmm." He's got a hand on the side of the display, his eyes unfocused, although he's able to concentrate on Jim's words without trouble. "I wish I was familiar with more of the listings. There's a few plays I recognize, and not much else." Colonial culture is woefully under-represented, and anything to do with Cylons? Forget it. "You said you were looking for classical music? You'll need to be more specific, that term doesn't mean much here."

Caspar's talent doesn't draw any strange looks from Jim, who is pretty used to hanging around nonhumans with all kinds of interesting talents. From what he can see, it's like a computerized version of a Vulcan mind meld, which makes a hell of a lot of sense to him.

"Yeah, I didn't think it would," Jim says, a little dryly. Of course he'd have to be more specific. With countless universes and countless eras to choose from, the classics are a matter of perspective. He takes a moment to remember what the hell that genre of music is even called, besides 'good' and 'old as fuck.' "I think they used to call it 'rock and roll.' It was pretty popular in the late twentieth century on my Earth."

They should talk about Vulcans sometime. An entire species that prides itself on logic and not throwing out emotions like it's everybody's goddamn business is a-ok in his book.

"Rock 'n roll," he murmurs, half to himself. In an instant, the display switches to a listing of live "rock" performances. "Not your style, though? You have a favorite genre?"

"Oh no, I like it too," Jim is quick to add with a smile. "It's just super old and outdated in my century, so it can be kinda hard to find. Xenofunk electronica is all the rage these days, that's not bad either. It's the kinda stuff that gets played in all the clubs."

Yeah, that list looks more familiar. A lot of names he doesn't recognize, but enough that he knows they're in the right category. Johnny Cash, AC/DC, Motörhead... mostly cover bands and ensembles, but hell, what hasn't been covered over the centuries since most of these songs were written?

"There's not some small underground vinyl shop that caters to it?" Caspar asks with a faint smirk. "I've always had a fondness for ambient techno, but there aren't as many live performances of that."

His attention returns to the display, although he's not looking at it so much as listening to it, his head tilted towards it slightly. "Do you know anything about musicals?" he asks. "I think Adia would like a good musical, but I've never heard of any of these." He frowns. "There's one about cats. Do you know it?"

"What's vinyl?" Eh, doesn't matter, he supposes. If he doesn't know what that is, then chances are pretty good it's something that's too old to be around anymore. "If something like that exists, I've never heard about it."

The question has him arching his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Yeah, Hunter's shown me a couple he had on film. Fiddler On the Roof was really good." Cats, though? He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. "Can't say it's ringing a bell for me. Sounds cute though."

"It's a kind of analog recording," he replies. "On a plastic disk. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, it's ancient technology by our standards." And yet some prefer it. Strange, that. "What about some sort of music database? Shouldn't you have access to it?"

He smiles faintly. "She does like cats..." He does, too, which makes the musical more appealing. "Find anything good, concert-wise?"

"Oh yeah, we've got those too. Some of the older stuff was lost during the last big intra-Terran war though, before they could be digitized." Jim traces down the list of rock shows with one finger, investigating the details of some of the more promising candidates.

"I think so. What d'you think, Van Halen or Foo Fighters?" Sure, they're pretty much all covers, but that hardly matters to Jim. Nor does the fact that he's not terribly familiar with either band. Can't find things you like unless you try new things, right?

"Intra-Terran?" he repeats. No stranger to war, he's inherently curious. "I didn't know you had that sort of history."

The question gets him to turn from the display and raise and eyebrow at Jim before he shrugs and resumes his search for the perfect musical. "Van Halen. That must be someone's name. Foo Fighters sounds ridiculous."

No, he's never heard a note from either band. But Jim did ask for his opinion.

"Oh yeah, Terran history's a long and bloody one. We had three World Wars, back when Earth was divided into different nations, and hundreds of other smaller wars over the centuries." Jim is pretty far removed from such conflicts, so it doesn't bother him at all to talk about a history that plays little direct part in Terran life today. "The third World War ended in 2053 and we made first contact with the Vulcans ten years later. Finding out what else was out there made all that petty fighting among ourselves seem pretty damn stupid."

He manages not to laugh at the look that Caspar gives him. "I think it's tradition for rock bands to have ridiculous names. Oingo Boingo, Hoobastank, Limp Bizkit..." He chuckles and shrugs. "Van Halen sounds cool though. Worth a shot."

Edited 2018-01-31 00:31 (UTC)

Ah, this is Earth history. He's not surprised that it's so violent. Humans are good at not getting along with each other until there's some sort of uniting event. Which sounds like, in this case, contact with aliens. "Sounds like the Vulcans were a positive influence. I'm not surprised."

He drops his hand from the display and wrinkles his nose. "I agree, those are ridiculous names. But I didn't listen to much rock music even before --"

The thought goes unfinished for a long moment while he decides if it's worth sharing. "When I thought I was human," he finally says, looking back at the show listings.

"I can get my hands on the history files, if you're interested," Jim offers, seeing that interest in to the Cylon's expression. "There's been a lot written on Earth warfare over the centuries, all the way back to when we were using spears and stones."

The long pause is a curious one, though Jim doesn't call attention to it. He hasn't quite worked out why Caspar is cagey about some things more than others, but he's used to interacting with nonhumans of all sorts of shapes and sizes. If there's some cultural norm at work here, he doesn't want to tread on any toes. "What'd you listen to?" he asks instead, casually curious.

Well, he can't say he's not interested in a history of warfare. That's in his code, inherited from his ancestors who were programmed for fighting. "Sure, I'd like to learn about that." A pause. "Thanks."

The question surprises him; he looks at Jim, the tension he was holding in his frame disappearing completely. "Uh... well, some folk, some jazz. I had a lot of lot of instrumental soundtracks to fantasy films." His mouth twitches into something of a smile. "I was a huge nerd."

Jim nods, already making a mental note which particular records he'll send Caspar's way first. "No problem. Do you have a PINpoint, or should I send them to Adia's?" After how skittish the Cylon has been, he's not about to corner the guy by demanding his contact info just to send along some history books.

He pretends he doesn't notice the shift in Caspar's body language, that jolt of surprise like he was expecting something else. Prying questions, maybe. "Hunter's introduced me to his century's film soundtracks. Some of them are ridiculously catchy."

"My PINpoint is fine." He pulls it out of his pocket -- sleek and black, like a smartphone -- and unlocks it with a flick of his thumb. "You want to give me your number? I'll shoot you a text."

He had been expecting questions about being a sleeper agent. A discussion about music is downright disarming. "A good soundtrack can take you somewhere else -- to the film's universe, or somewhere else entirely. When you live on a spaceship, you need that kind of escapism." He smiles faintly, then adds, "I don't listen to that so much anymore. Adia has been introducing me to Earth music. Sometimes she sings along."

"Sure thing." He pulls out his communicator, flipping it open with a flick of his wrist so he can retrieve his PINpoint number, and read it off to Caspar.

Jim has enough things he doesn't like to talk about that it really doesn't occur to him to seriously start digging into someone else's private thoughts without an invitation, or unless there's some imminent danger. So far he's seen Caspar be aloof but perfectly civil, so why ruin a good thing? He grins when Caspar mentions spaceship life. "I might have to get some of those to take with me on my next mission then."

His smile softens a little when the Cylon speaks of Adia. He may not have seen much of the two of them together, but it's pretty damn obvious they're crazy about each other. "I'm gonna guess you're not much of a singer, yourself."

He enters the number, then pauses a moment before typing in, "Jim Kirk." He'd add "beard" in parentheses, but this is the first Jim in his contacts, the only one he's met. Clean-shaven Jim will simply have to suffer the indignity of being "Other Jim" if he ever makes it onto Caspar's contact list.

This is Caspar he texts to Jim's communicator before slipping his PINpoint away. There you go, Jim, now you have his contact information, too.

Already smiling a little while thinking about his girl, the question makes him chuckle. "No, not really. Fives weren't given the gift of song. How about you? You ever serenade Hunter with some of that xenofunk electronica?"

"Got it." Jim stores Caspar's number before putting his communicator away. No need to list him under anything but his name, nor does Jim ask whether he's got a surname to add to that. Plenty of folks he's met only have the one, both in and out of the Federation. Hell, sometimes he feels like he's the weirdo for having three. Hooray for downright ancient Terran traditions.

Caspar's question gets a little laugh out of him too. "Nah, singing's for showers or when I'm really drunk, and I can't do that last one so much anymore. If I ever got around to scaring up a guitar I could probably play something older for him though. I haven't played in years."

Caspar's last name means little to him, and seems especially pointless in the Nexus. His full name is meaningless, as fake as the memories he was given when made a sleeper agent aboard the Chiron. But he has grown fond of Caspar. It's what Adia has always called him, he sees no reason to switch back to Five or another name of his choosing.

The comment on his drinking gets an eyebrow raise. "Can't or won't?" he asks curiously. The mention of a guitar gets a thoughtful nod. "I bet he'd like that. I can play a piano, but I'm also out of practice. And I don't know where I'd scrounge one up, anyway."

"Can't," Jim affirms with a shrug. "Part of an immune system overhaul I got here. Antibodies, turbocharged gut flora, that kinda thing. The point's to make it so I won't go around picking up exotic diseases and bringing them back home; side effect is I metabolize alcohol too fast to get intoxicated unless it's strong as hell."

There's been more than one occasion where he's regretted this decision, but avoiding becoming Typhoid Mary is unfortunately worth it.

"I bet there's somewhere around here that sells instruments, but good luck hauling a piano home without anyone noticing," he agrees with a laugh. "I can play a little violin too, but I'm even more outta practice with that."

He looks impressed. Maybe even a little jealous. "Nobody thought to do that with us," he remarks. "Maybe it wasn't possible. I sure as hell would love to not worry about getting drunk, although I suppose it's easy enough to avoid." The loss of inhibition that comes from even a couple drinks is not something Caspar has ever enjoyed. To be immune to that would be a blessing, so far as he's concerned.

There's a chuckle of amusement at the mental image of smuggling a piano back home. "Yeah, that would raise some questions. I already take enough liberties with what I buy." He pauses a moment, looking back at the display, then shakes his head. "I don't know how she does it. Hiding the Nexus from everyone for over three years."

"I could keep an eye out for the place where I got it done," Jim offers, catching that envious look on the Cylon's face. "It might pop up again one of these days, and they do custom-tailor it if you need it. I've got some annoying medical allergies, so mine had to be adapted specifically for me." Of course, just because he's looking won't mean that he'll ever find it again, but it's possible, and it's the thought that counts, right?

Jim has the information that he was looking for, but he's enjoying the conversation and the chance to get to know Caspar a little more, so he leans up against the nearest support that isn't gonna mess up the display any. "Yeah, tell me about it. I've only been keeping it from Starfleet for one year, but it's a headache and a half to cover up all the little discrepancies sometimes. Hell, I'm planning to help move over an entire fleet of refugees and half the planning's less about logistics and more about how the hell to explain them showing up all of a sudden."

His mouth twitches with distaste, but it's not directed at Jim or his offer. It's the fact that a clinic like that could appear and disappear, like one of those cursed magic shops. God, this place sometimes... "I'd appreciate that. I won't hold my breath that it'll make a return appearance."

The kiosk is good for leaning, although Caspar refrains, not quite as comfortable. But he's not making an excuse to exit the conversation, either, so that must be a good sign. "Glad to know we're not the only ones," he says with a faint smile. "You're talking about Faris' people, right? Your alternate was going to do the same thing for Adia's Fleet. It's the closest she came to telling anyone. Aside from me, I suppose."

"Yeah, the K'da and Shontine." Somehow, Jim isn't terribly surprised that Caspar knows who he's talking about. Faris is one incredibly social person, and small wonder why, given his species' need for companionship. Jim's pretty fond of the guy, himself.

Nor does he look surprised that Adia and the other Jim had been making plans to do the same. He's read her notes a dozen times over with Faris, adapting some of the logistics to their own plans. "As glad as I am that it didn't end up being necessary, the Federation would've welcomed you all if it'd come to that. Mine would've, anyway." That Caspar described it as Adia's fleet hasn't escaped his attention, but he also wants to avoid implying that only the humans would've been allowed. After all, it's not like Caspar's the only Cylon still around these days.

Caspar's smile thins out in response to the reassurance. "I'm glad it wasn't necessary, either. The War wouldn't have ended, it merely would have been put on hold." Perhaps indefinitely, but Cylons -- the Ones, specifically -- were excellent at holding grudges.

He would have likely never seen Adia again, living out the rest of her life in a completely different universe. The thought disturbs him, causes a ripple of regret over his stoic features. "You aren't worried about the Valahgua coming into your universe and stirring up trouble?"

HELP HOW DOES I ANNIVERSARY

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