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Apr. 9th, 2005 01:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kbkAnother snip of my 'lantis future thing.
Um. This is basically Rodney-POV. The italics are quotes - the first is from "The Eye", the fifth is from "The Siege Part 1" and the rest are made up. I'm dubious about their inclusion. Near the end there's a reference to Hitchhiker's Guide ttG. 600ish words, a few of which are swear-, and I really ought to get some work done.
There's a succession of ghosts whispering in his ears, and there are times when Rodney wants to talk back. He doesn't, of course, because if anyone were to think he were mad - really bugfuck crazy, as opposed to the functional kind of crazy that half the damn army is, the kind where it seems normal to collapse into bed with a gun still strapped on, where a good day is one on which nobody dies, where it seems rational to have a doctor of astrophysics in charge of fighting off life-sucking aliens - well, if anyone were to think that, he'd be relieved of duty and strapped in restraints so fast that gate travel would look like a pleasant Sunday stroll.
Sometimes the voices will go away for a while, when he simply cannot afford to let himself hear them, but the thing about being a genius is that he can think about seventeen things at once - it's often the collision and combination of several trains of thought that lead to his brilliant ideas - and so even when he's racking his brains with two minutes to go Then give ‘em two minutes. he can hear them.
They're not real, of course, just the product of a battered conscience, memories being dragged to the surface, and that's why John's so persistent, it's not John, not his ghost hanging over Rodney's shoulder, it's just that John was there so much, the knowledge he had is so relevant, and the guilt over him is so much that is almost eclipses the rest, except that's really not an effective metaphor. Hey, Rodney, I'm squishing your head! Daft bastard that he was.
John should be the one still here. He should be giving these orders, and he'd be giving better ones, because he'd know what the hell he was doing. And he'd make everyone feel important, and he'd get on with everyone, and he'd find a way to commit genocide while he was at it.
Maybe not that last, because John didn't make the weapons, only delivered them, but he'd certainly be better at the personnel thing, because one of the basic pillars of Rodney McKay is that he Does Not Get People. He doesn't know how to talk to them, how to get them to talk to him, how to deal with them. He certainly doesn't know how to make them like him.
He doesn't know how to keep them safe. Stay down, Rodney. He doesn't know how to stop them dying. I'm ordering you, McKay! He doesn't know how to do anything other than watch.
It's easier when he doesn't know their faces.
Still, he hasn't been McKay in a long time. He's just Rodney, now, or more often, sir. He'd refer to himself as the Grand High Poohbah if he thought anyone was left who would get the joke. Or if he could remember the provenance himself. It would bother him if it was ever going to be relevant.
He has other things to remember. Things that make the difference between life and death for innumerable people No undue pressure. and things that remind him why he's still fighting. Things that don't really matter Stop calling me that, I got promoted. but keep him sane in the middle of the night.
As sane as he gets these days. Or maybe too sane. Enasni. Such a geek, man.
But it's not the middle of the night any more, and Rodney has work to do, and if he works hard enough, well. Maybe today will be a good day.
Um. This is basically Rodney-POV. The italics are quotes - the first is from "The Eye", the fifth is from "The Siege Part 1" and the rest are made up. I'm dubious about their inclusion. Near the end there's a reference to Hitchhiker's Guide ttG. 600ish words, a few of which are swear-, and I really ought to get some work done.
There's a succession of ghosts whispering in his ears, and there are times when Rodney wants to talk back. He doesn't, of course, because if anyone were to think he were mad - really bugfuck crazy, as opposed to the functional kind of crazy that half the damn army is, the kind where it seems normal to collapse into bed with a gun still strapped on, where a good day is one on which nobody dies, where it seems rational to have a doctor of astrophysics in charge of fighting off life-sucking aliens - well, if anyone were to think that, he'd be relieved of duty and strapped in restraints so fast that gate travel would look like a pleasant Sunday stroll.
Sometimes the voices will go away for a while, when he simply cannot afford to let himself hear them, but the thing about being a genius is that he can think about seventeen things at once - it's often the collision and combination of several trains of thought that lead to his brilliant ideas - and so even when he's racking his brains with two minutes to go Then give ‘em two minutes. he can hear them.
They're not real, of course, just the product of a battered conscience, memories being dragged to the surface, and that's why John's so persistent, it's not John, not his ghost hanging over Rodney's shoulder, it's just that John was there so much, the knowledge he had is so relevant, and the guilt over him is so much that is almost eclipses the rest, except that's really not an effective metaphor. Hey, Rodney, I'm squishing your head! Daft bastard that he was.
John should be the one still here. He should be giving these orders, and he'd be giving better ones, because he'd know what the hell he was doing. And he'd make everyone feel important, and he'd get on with everyone, and he'd find a way to commit genocide while he was at it.
Maybe not that last, because John didn't make the weapons, only delivered them, but he'd certainly be better at the personnel thing, because one of the basic pillars of Rodney McKay is that he Does Not Get People. He doesn't know how to talk to them, how to get them to talk to him, how to deal with them. He certainly doesn't know how to make them like him.
He doesn't know how to keep them safe. Stay down, Rodney. He doesn't know how to stop them dying. I'm ordering you, McKay! He doesn't know how to do anything other than watch.
It's easier when he doesn't know their faces.
Still, he hasn't been McKay in a long time. He's just Rodney, now, or more often, sir. He'd refer to himself as the Grand High Poohbah if he thought anyone was left who would get the joke. Or if he could remember the provenance himself. It would bother him if it was ever going to be relevant.
He has other things to remember. Things that make the difference between life and death for innumerable people No undue pressure. and things that remind him why he's still fighting. Things that don't really matter Stop calling me that, I got promoted. but keep him sane in the middle of the night.
As sane as he gets these days. Or maybe too sane. Enasni. Such a geek, man.
But it's not the middle of the night any more, and Rodney has work to do, and if he works hard enough, well. Maybe today will be a good day.
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-09 07:37 pm (UTC)It's great to hear you like it.