ic contact

[driftsintobuffetline]

Hey! You've reached the inbox of Newt Geiszler! Leave a message and call-back number after the beep!

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Comments

text;

[mathemagier]

You should have a look at this when you're done fawning over lizard biology.

text;

[driftsintobuffetline]

if you don't come bearing gifts of lizards gtfo my inbox

8/19, text

[superposition]

[[concurrent with this]]

Hey. How are you holding up?

Text

[driftsintobuffetline]

Fine!
How are you, man? That stuff hit you hard--speaking of, how's your head? No permanent damage? Cut healing fine?
I should have texted you sooner. Wanted to thank you for the help.

Sept 26th, audio;

[mathemagier]

[As soon as he picks up]

Newton, I'm going to preface this by saying this wasn't intentional and I will return as soon as possible.

[He's trying very hard not to be cold]

[driftsintobuffetline]

[His voice breaks and is unnaturally (even for Newt) high] HOLYSHIT DUDEWHEREAREYOU? WHAT DID YOU DO? You feel so far away. Where ARE you?!

[Misfire text]

[hoboagogo]

[Enjoy, Newt: it's a picture of a huge burmese python wearing a ridiculous tiny hat.]

[driftsintobuffetline]

Oh! Wow, gorgeous python. Please tell me you've named her Mrs. Nesbit.

misfire text

[bestsword]

wanna meet back at your face or mine?

[driftsintobuffetline]

[And this he knows is a wrong number or a legit trolling because the only friend he has who has any sort of non-geek sense of humor is like 15.]

yours. a/s/l?

Misfire; video/text

[rassera]

[Oh look Newt, someone's sent you a video. Look at that dog. Isn't it cute.]

look at what he can do now

[driftsintobuffetline]

Sweet!! What else can he do?

text;

[mathemagier]

I may have found you a qualified medic with both practical experience and healing abilities, so expect a Peter Petrelli to be in contact with you.

text;

[driftsintobuffetline]

Thanks, Herm.
We trust him?

[askedtobe]

Your colleague sent me your way. Said you were looking for some help conducting experiments?

[driftsintobuffetline]

Peter Petrelli, I presume? Yeah, I'm looking. Our medic appears to be out of town.
Did he disclose the kind of experiments yet? The risks?

[text, december 1st]

[medalsome]

[It had been a few days since the break down in front of Newton and Joaquin felt like he owed him an apology of sorts, but damn if it wasn't hard to build up to actually sending a message. This could get awkward.]

Hey Newt. Just wanted to let you know I talked with Manolo about some things and it seems like I might have worried over nothing. Or not nothing, but over something that I shouldn't have put so much weight on.

And anyway I wanted to say that I am glad you were there to talk with me about it. Or listen to me complain about it. Both, really.

[driftsintobuffetline]

Glad to know it worked out for you, man. I guess this is where I'm supposed to say "anytime" but (a) don't really think you or I want you to have breakdowns like that anytime, and (b) it WAS kind of awkward. But super glad it worked out for you and Manolo.

And hey, anytime. Just...try talking to the guy first.

action; dec. 6th

[mathemagier]

[He's working on his laptop with the television playing in the background while trying not to worry about what Newton's up to in the kitchen when the emergency broadcast airs. It effectively announces itself with the sound of gunfire, and Hermann freezes, glancing up from his work to find utter chaos on display.

Wanton violence, gunmen shooting down imPorts in a section of Heropa, and it's horrifying. He wants to shut it off immediately, but finds himself trapped by an obligation to watch it play out while his heart pounds and sickness twists in his stomach]

[driftsintobuffetline]

[Hermann isn't really the action movie type, so the sound of gunfire alone catches Newt's attention, but then there's that ill feeling that makes Newt step back from the stove, turn it off, and lean heavily against a counter. He's reminded of Sir Alec Guinness and a destroyed planet, and Newt hopes to everything it's not as bad as he fears.

...it's not the kaiju, at least, he discovers when he returns to the living room and lays a hand on Hermann's shoulder, sinking down on the sofa beside him. It's impossible not to watch, to wait and see if any faces are familiar ones, if their people (they have people now, and that's frightening because Newt, at least, had lacked some sense of attachment through the better part of the war--but now those are their coworkers, their comrades, their friends...! Is this what it had been like to be part of the Jaeger crews?)

Every manner of swear manifests in his mind.

His hand moves from Hermann's shoulder to the back of his neck, absently stroking the short hairs of his undercut.]

CHRISTMAS DELIVERY

[pobrecisco]

[ When Newt gets back to work at StarkTech after Christmas, he'll find a $5 giftcard to the coffee shop nearest work and a free movie ticket at his work station with a cute card reading "Happy Holidays!" and Cisco's messy signature. ]

video;

[superposition]

[It's past dark where Qubit is, although halfway around the world it's 9AM the next day.]

Hey. How long are you two in Hong Kong again?

video - continued indefinitely

[driftsintobuffetline]

[It takes a few rings before Newt drags himself close enough to the bedside table to actually make contact with his phone. He's still putting on his glasses when the video comes on, and Hermann can be heard grumbling about the light. Newt doesn't even bother to sit up. He loves you, QB, but that's too much effort.]

Ugh, man, can't this have waited...like four more hours?

Jan 20th; voice

[mathemagier]

Newton, where are you?

Jan 20th; voice

[mathemagier]

Please pick up.

Sometime later - text

[driftsintobuffetline]

Hi.

audio; backdated to after the rescue

[attainment]

Hi, Dr. Geiszler. This is Barnaby. When I took a headcount after the escape, I noticed you were missing, so I wanted to confirm you made it home safely.

[driftsintobuffetline]

Oh, shit, uh, sorry about that. Didn't think anyone would notice.

Hi, yeah, I got a free ticket home courtesy of my--Anyway! I know someone with a limited teleport power. And he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Everyone else get home okay?

text;

[matadorable]

hi dr. geiszler
i hope you and dr. gottlieb are doing okay
now that the soviets are gone and things
are trying to go back to normal

if youve got some time
i want to ask your opinion
about something

im trying to decide
if i should stay unsettled
or if i should become
a registered import

so i want to hear
about other peoples experiences
about their feelings from where they stand now
those sorts of things

[driftsintobuffetline]

My opinion? Frankly, stick it to the man. Don't register.

Okay, no, honestly? They've already got their nanites in you. Registering at this point is all psychological--you'll maybe feel obligated to help if something goes down, because that's the deal: register, get government benefits and in return, help them in times of crisis--but they already own you. They're tracking you. They have a file on you. They know your powers, know your face. You technically have no 'rights.' And whatever they can do with the nanites (which, lets be real, is probably what LACKEY and the Russians used against us), we are not privvy to and we are not immune to. So long as we have these nanites, it frankly doesn't seem to matter if you register or not.

It's merely propaganda for them if they get you to register.

That said, Hermann and I are registered. Mobility limitations necessitated the porter usage. Health reasons meant we required healthcare. If you need what the government offers, register. If you don't need it, doesn't much matter. And if people give you grief for whatever you choose, and someone might, tell them to shove it.

[video; a day or so after Maria arrives in MoM]

[medalsome]

[Joaquin's back to using videos to chat on the comms again! He's still looking a bit less jovial than his baseline mood but not as desperately lifeless as the seminar had left him days before.]

Hey Newt, just uh... figured I'd check on you and see how you were doing. So, um... how's things?

[driftsintobuffetline]

[Video does at least seem like its a positive step towardsJoaquin reclaiming himself, Newt decides.]

Oh hey! I'm alright. How're you doing, dude? How's your head treating you?

Action; March 18th

[mathemagier]

With that conversation concluded to the point of fruitlessness, Hermann shut off his comm and weighed the pros and cons of pursuing it. They'd probably argue, but neither did the idea of ignoring the issue sit well. No, they were capable of seething over many issues, and it always dissolved into a shouting match. Not something they needed when there was an engagement on the horizon.

Hermann levered himself up and strode down the hall to Newton's door, where it was firmly shut - and locked - against him. He sighed, felt the edge of Newton's agitation bleeding through the door, then raised his cane to rap against it.

"Are we going to talk about this, Newton? Or was that the height of your maturity?"

[driftsintobuffetline]

Newt very VERY (un)politely flipped Hermann off and flounced back onto his relatively unused (of late) bed, grabbing one of the dirty tee-shirts strewn over it and throwing it poorly in the direction of Hermann's face.

"That door was LOCKED for a reason, you asshole." Despite the acid in his voice and the look on his face, the inclusion of the insult seemed to soften the objection; maybe it was the way Newt pronounced his As, the sound drawing his mouth into an almost smile. The word didn't carry any fondness, yet somehow, it did. "Let's talk about THAT."

audio;

[matadorable]

Hi, Dr. Geiszler. When you get this message, do you mind calling me back? [There's a pause here, as if Manolo is hesitating over whether to explain anymore. Finally, he settles on:] Don't worry, this isn't an emergency. I know you're busy, so take your time. Thanks.

audio; - returned about 45 min later

[driftsintobuffetline]

Sorry, dude. Hermann and I were out and I didn't want to risk a private phone conversation in a public place. And call me Newt; Doctor's too formal for this late in the relationship.
What's up?

text

[dendarii]

About that conversation we had the other day ...

[driftsintobuffetline]

Did you kiss him? Tell me you kissed him.

4/1

[medalsome]

[Joaquin doesn't preface this with anything, just sends a message log, complete with timestamps and the attached photograph at the bottom.

Then he sends the short video that Newt and Hermann took on NYE. Again, no context.

Aren't you proud of him Newt? He figured out how to do this kind of linking JUST FOR YOU!]

[driftsintobuffetline]

I'm seriously disgusting.

Seriously.

I'm gross.
This is pathetic.
And you should see the letter I just wrote him.

Damnit. Why did you have to show me the fucking sleeping Hermann picture?
He's
You can't do this to a guy.

Ok. Ok, confirm or deny
Is this Hermann? [image attached]
[The image, taken from Newt's own phone's gallery, is of Hermann with his hair slicked down, a mask on, and a suit. He's dressed for the Masquerade back in October. It's undeniably Hermann: his profile, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyelashes look almost rather long framed as they are by the eyes of the mask. He looks like he's sighing. It's a face Hermann commonly wears around Newt--older Newt: humoring, trying to look more put-upon than he actually is. There is no one else it could be, not even a remarkably tall Miles. And yet Newt types:]

Please say no.

Also, is the child Auditor Miles supposed to look like Hermann? I mention someone named Miles' face and--
I don't think I can handle knowing what child Hermann looks like too

Crumpled letter; April 15th

[mathemagier]

[Tossed by his wastebin, but having evidently missed its target, the paper is lightly crumpled and the handwritten text has a pale red line of marker struck through it with the helpful note: better phrasing obviously written with much less care than the rest]


Newton,


I confess I've no idea what to write here.

Our original letters were scientific in nature, with a subtle undercurrent of personal intrigue. It's what we're most comfortable with, and I don't believe I've ever written a strictly personal letter in my entire life. Closest was likely my university application essay, but then I'd never imagined you.

Sheer brute force.

It's how you do everything in emotional terms, much like the drift itself. Speaking as someone much more guarded, it's both enviable and frightening, yet fascinating. I still can't fathom what sort of criteria I must have met to warrant your regard, but perhaps that's simply my own flawed thinking. I consider everything in terms of data and numerical expression, but humanity in general has never conformed to reason. I'm rather certain you're something of an outlier even, making for a particularly unpredictable partner, and one I'm enjoying rather thoroughly regardless.

So while I can predict an alien species, I will likely never have enough data to predict you, even with the Drift. But as you know, I'm rather fascinated by the unknown, and will still endeavour to collect as much data as possible- only this is the one subject in which I don't expect anyone else to continue my work in later years, and the only recognition I require is yours.

Some mathematicians find comfort in pi as an ongoing measure of eternity, and there is certainly an element of enchantment to be found in such a concept. But then there are times I think that eternity sounds exhausting and unbearable, and that I'd rather simply spend either one or both lives with you.


With unending affection,
Hermann

Crumpled and left some hours later on Hermann's side of the(ir) bed

[driftsintobuffetline]

Hermann,

I find it ironic that, in your "flawed way of thinking," what you have deemed garbage (not always of your creation) has--now on two separate occasions!--helped to reinforce and strengthen my love for you. I don't have one of those items here, but you had better believe I plan to keep, frame, and pay proper reverence to this latest one.

You wrote me a poem--You made me INTO poetry and I'm not sure how you managed it.

But when you write me, you manage to make me sound like a man who is not merely interesting (anyone can be interesting), but something that fills you with poetic wonder. That is, by far, one of the greatest compliments I have ever been given. Because I know what makes you dream, Hermann Gottlieb, and to be counted among numbers and the cosmos and the quest for artificial intelligence... I don't know what I have ever done to deserve that. And yet I know you won't let me escape my flaws or cover them with a veneer of bravado--I know you will search out my truths and unearth my mysteries for even me to discover. You constantly remind me to be the man I can be, I should be, and who I want to be. You alone, Hermann, are the one I want to tell me I'm wrong.

You make order out of my disorder: you've followed along with me--intellectually, verbally, emotionally, and sometimes literally--defiantly straightening out the chaos. Hermann, I will never sort all my thoughts about you into anything as coherent and gorgeous as what you created -- nothing I write for you will be on par with what you wrote for me and thought worthy of the garbage bin...or not EVEN the garbage bin--you missed!

But I'm going to try, and if this falls into the waste basket in your room, you know why: I love you too much to ever capture you in words, because unlike you, I am better with the physical than the conceptual. But I hope...as yours did for me, that maybe my letter will make you feel beautiful and so very loved.

Because you are the night-sky. So still, cool, and elusive from afar--awe-inspiring--but there are worlds to discover in you. Stars and planets and galaxies--active and bursting with life and the unknown--that upon further inspection are whole universe unto themselves. There are fires in you, burning for eons, and cold desolate stars, and black holes and nebulae of colors we do not yet have names for... And if I traveled faster than the speed of light and explored every light I see in you, I could never understand everything in your expanding universe. You have so much depth and life and passion in you and so many people will never look close enough to ever see.

You asked (well, you didn't ask, but I'm telling you anyway)--You wondered what criteria you checked off to warrant my regard for you. And as I try to put that into words, I realize my best answer for you is "I don't know." THAT is the criteria you checked off. I could tell you that I find you attractive, or brilliant...but the truth is...you are all that and more. You are so unfathomable that you check off a list I didn't know existed, but cannot live without.

Hermann, once upon a time, perhaps I wanted to (not literally) dissect you and know you, but the thing that never ceases to surprise and scare me and inspire me now, is how equally we try to lay bare for each other to do so. I will gladly help you with your lifelong endeavor if you will critique and recognize mine as well. Please have patience with me; I will never fully understand you, but I want to...more than anything else in the world.

Eternity sounds like an awfully long time. But if I can be half so unpredictable as to be compelling to you for as long as we both shall live, Hermann, and if you can bear my garbage love letters, I can think of no one else better to spend eternity/lifetime(s) with, as long as you'll have me.



Forever your Newton

text

[4thdimensional]

Dr. Geiszler, I have what is perhaps a frivolous question to ask of you.

Do you have any recommendations for tattoo artists in the area? I have one in mind, but I'd like to look at all my options.

text

[driftsintobuffetline]

Dude, you have great timing. I was just considering a tatt myself. And your question: not frivolous, no. A tattoo is an important commitment, because that sucker's going to be on your body forEVER, so you're going to want to have a long look at a lot of portfolios and read reviews and check out their technique and design.

I can make suggestions, though personally I haven't been a client to any here yet. But first... How big of one? And what kind of look are you going for?
- line? greyscale? full color? prison-style (usually blue or black ink, just the one color)? shading, no shading, stippling?
- Old school American - "Sailor Jerry" - very sailor, wwii era, like the old-style heart or dagger or skull or anchor, usually with a banner/scroll with text?
- Pin-up? vintage? gothic? vulgar or not?
- text or calligraphy?
- brushstroke or watercolor?
- floral?
- photorealism? portraits?
- horror? one of those whole arm things where it makes you look like you have a robot arm?
- caricature?
- Japanese traditional-Irezumi/Yakuza style?
- Celtic or tribal or something else that is traditionally lines and shapes?
????

late night June 17th

[4thdimensional]

[Doc is going through the messages and notes left behind by what must have been his alternate self. He discovers one cryptic note about Geiszler and Gottlieb violating public decency, frowns at it, then eventually discovers what it must have meant.]

I'd like to extend my belated congratulations on your engagement to Dr. Gottlieb. You undoubtedly have many happy years ahead.

[driftsintobuffetline]

Thanks, Doc! Yeah, we hopefully do, assuming we don't kill each other first.

Late June 25th - Audio;

[mathemagier]

[Hermann's aiming for a light, casual tone, but winds up sounding a bit too careful and deliberate with his wording instead]

Newton, Miles got in touch with me to apologize, and we got to talking about the Drift. More specifically, our bond as it may or may not relate to theirs. We've decided that we perhaps should experiment a bit, but to that end, we will of course need to be mindful not to try anything terrible invasive, as well as decide what sorts of exercises we should attempt.

[driftsintobuffetline]

Oh? Oh wow, okay. Hold up and gimme a sec to process that. He wants to experiment with our Drifts? Is he sure? Are you? We showed Qubit, but he's kind of a special case so-- In what way? Are we talking hooking up to Pons-like apparatuses and monitoring brainwaves of Our Drift vs Theirs?? Questionnaire and self-reporting? Zener Cards?

Because you know and I know there's really no way TO know the way a mind works, let alone a full-on Drift, except to engage it firsthand. Are we talking about comparing notes here or Drifting with each other? Because this is sounding like the Drift Partner's equivalent of being Swingers and I'm all for experimentation but let me just say this was not the intended result of getting you two to talk again. Are we sure he's Miles again and not still Piotr?