(no subject)

[im-sorry-dave.livejournal.com]

the song drabble meme

It's pretty simple and fun, folks. This is how this works!

( 01 ) Have a playlist ready! Don't use all your songs--try and narrow it down a little.
( 02 ) Let everyone know how many songs you're working with. Also, which characters you would be willing to write about.
( 03 ) Others tag your post, picking a character or pairing or friendship or familial relationship or whatever, and then choose a number from your list.
( 04 ) Write a drabble related to that song, using that/those character(s)!

Take as long as you need; there's no time limits here!
And here's some helpful HTML to make it pretty!

<b>Characters:</b> -Name || (<lj site="livejournal.com" user="username"></lj> ) -Name || (<lj site="livejournal.com" user="username"></lj> ) <b>Number of Tracks:</b>

1.0
2.0

Comments

[rebuildscience]

I'm pretty much obligated to request Rattmann and the Chells. that sounds like the name of a band Ummmm 42 is always a good number.

[labrattmann.livejournal.com]

WE ARE! RATTMANN AND THE CHELLS! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9zMnrBCBa0)

Ok so this has like nothing to do with the song but I wrote it while listening to it that counts right.

The station had only served to make Rattmann's paranoia worse. Whereas in Aperture he would spend at least a few days in each hideaway, here he could barely keep himself still for a few hours before the panic became unbearable and he had to move again. The tracking feature on the wearable had been killed in his first spate of lucidity, but it was impossible to stop feeling as if he was being watched constantly even with that safety in place.

All the running was taking a serious toll on his already frail body; it was becoming difficult to stay alert, unfamiliar colors flashing before his eyes in sickening bursts. There wasn't any choice but to sleep, even if his incoherency wouldn't allow it. It would be painful, but fighting down the insanity was the lesser evil when compared with collapsing in the middle of a sector.

Once a wave of lucidity washed over him he made sure that the current safe place was particularly out of the way as a concession to the irrational part of him. He knew that the simple act of sleeping would make the consideration pointless, but it was for his peace of mind more than anything else.

Rattmann didn't like to sleep, even when he managed to calm himself enough to actually do it. He always suffered from nightmares.

When he was less terrified he could acknowledge that they were fundamentally the same as the delusions he experiences while awake, and therefore shouldn't frighten him. The only difference was that even the little control he normally had was torn from him, leaving him completely at the mercy of his tortured subconscious. It was too much to bear - he always awoke screaming.

This nap began in the same way all of the did, giving him no transition period before plunging directly into the heart of his fear. His coworkers fell to the ground and writhed in pain, breathing in the neurotoxin that never seemed to affect him. Their bodies rotted at a speed completely unnatural in reality, corpses rose and reached out for him, mouths screaming wordless condemnations -

Something woke him, a hand shaking his shoulder vigorously until he jerked away and into the nearest corner. His eyes were still hazy from sleep, but Rattmann forced them to work and identify the figures standing a respectful distance away in complete silence.

The answer did nothing to assuage the rising fear that threatened to take his mind again, to make him run run run far and fast don't look back it's dangerous here you must go.

"How did you find me..?"

Both Chells only smiled, and the robotic one tapped her head knowingly. Being a machine did have its perks at times, such as when one wanted to find reclusive schizophrenics.

Rattmann sighed, head already in his hands. "Please go."

He didn't expect an answer, had never expected answers from either of them. That attitude didn't prepare him for the light tugging at one of his hand, however. He looked up only to be met with twin encouraging smiles, the hand on his tugging a little more insistently.

"No, no, I can't -"

Whatever other half-formed excuses he had were cut off by a sharp shake of the head. No, they seemed to say, he could and he should. It made them sad to see how alone and scared he was, and they wanted to help. They wanted him to let them help like he'd helped them.

There was a long pause, an inner battle of psychosis versus whatever humanity was still cowering in Rattmann. Finally he just sighed, squeezing the hand a little bit and pulling himself up. The approval radiating off the Chells was nearly palpable as they linked arms with him and led him out of the safe house.

For once in his life, Doug Rattmann didn't look back.

[rebuildscience]

eeeeee