thegalley_tlv | hard times / open!

hard times / open!

Hilbert is fine. He is just fine. He has to be just fine because the alternative, getting angry about this, won't be of any use. Push it all down, deal with feelings later, just focus on the here and now for the moment. He has a specific end date for his crimes. He will get out of here eventually. He is fine.

He's not fine, but considering he honestly has no idea how to deal with that, repression is the name of the day.

It's no big secret that Dr. Nerd doesn't have much experience with manual labor. Whenever he does his shift at the oar bank, at the end of it, he leaves without hesitation, but then spends the next few minutes in a nearby corridor, out of the main flow of traffic, inspecting the blisters on his hands. He'll try and grab the attention of anyone else who looks beaten up or not used to this sort of work before rather rudely trying to manhandle them in the corridor, away from prying eyes as well.

The yard is Hilbert's place of choice, especially as there's a few chessboards set up. And Hilbert is annoyingly good at chess. Most days you can find him sitting at a chessboard, thinking to himself, while also scanning the yard for anybody who might give him a good game as well as just looking for someone in particular. If he spots an Advocate, however, he'll walk up to them and ask two questions. One, is there any way for Prisoners to request or purchase certain items? Two, have they seen a young man, smaller than he is, who goes by the name of John Mandrake?

It's not that Hilbert's worried about Mandrake or anything. Certainly not. That would imply sentimentality and he has no room for that. It's simply that he'd rather the young man not be on this ship. That's it. Nothing more.

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It's pretty obvious that he's an Advocate. For one thing, an hour trying to move an oar would probably take him out. These are not the spindly arms of someone who can standup in the face of manual labor.

"I am fortunate in my position." He doesn't like it, but if he's forced to be on this ship, it's always better not to be Prisoner. "It's a more straightforward way to 'earn' my life back. You're a Prisoner?"

It's a little more obvious than he likes his questions, but he can't say anything like 'how are you' or 'are you okay'.

Hilbert nods. "Could be worse," he shrugs. "The situation is obviously not ideal, but I will make do."

It's obvious from the callouses and blisters on Hilbert's hands and the way that he walks like someone who exercised too much and is regretting it the next day what the 'not ideal' portions of this are. He's good enough at manual labor to pass all his 'let's get you into space' exams, but it's not something he would say he's amazing at.

"At least here they give you a sentence." The lack of an end date hadn't been his least favorite thing about the Barge, but it had been up there.

"Is there anything you need?" A practical question, because Hilbert is a useful person.

"There are things I would like to have that I doubt I can obtain," Hilbert points out. "Chief of which are basic medical supplies. Bandages, antiseptic, gauze."

His expression shifts slightly as he looks back to where he knows the oar bay is. "I expect more people to be injured while working or by being punished than there currently are. I also expect those people might not want to go to Infirmary due to their own pride."

Granted, they also probably don't want to see him, but Hilbert is of the opinion that people don't have to be conscious to receive medical treatment.

"It would be more efficient, and better 'community service' to just have you working in the infirmary instead."

Perhaps there's some point to the oars - keeping idiots away from an engine room, to start - but he doesn't see a reason for everyone to be treated equally. People putting their skills to use fits his judgement of 'fairness' better, anyway.

He considers a moment.

"It's also inefficient to have injured people working. Putting aside people who won't act due to pride, there's probably plenty of minor injuries where it'd be wasting time to have to go all the way to the infirmary if there's someone there who could help. So basic medical supplies might be a reasonable request."

"Precisely," he sighs. And this, this right here, is why he enjoys Nathaniel's company. The young man is just so practical in a way that Hilbert appreciates.

"You would have to be the one to ask the Judge to have me work in infirmary," Hilbert points out. "As well as for the basic medical supplies. Though I suspect both might be denied. I have often found that efficiency is often ignored when it comes to matters of punishment."

From the disgruntled tone in Hilbert's voice, he is absolutely speaking from experience in that matter.

"I could ask for the basic medical supplies first. As long as it's nothing contraband, there's nothing unreasonable about it. Having those supplies could also let you learn about people who might be trying to hide that they were fighting."

Nothing wrong with presenting it as another incentive for telling on other prisoners.

"I suppose it's slightly more reasonable that they'd want proof of good behavior before getting a job in the infirmary, but use of basic medical supplies could help offer that proof."

"If you would ask, I would greatly appreciate it." There's a small, awkward little pause before, "Thank you."

It's awkward to say this! Hilbert feels so awkward! But he's saying it anyway because it's the right thing to say and he truly is thankful.

Nathaniel absolutely knows how to respond when people say 'thank you'. Unfortunately, that's when they fall into one of two categories, either unthinking response or multi-leveled barb from people who want to see him fail. Normal categories.

"Your welcome." He can totally pretend he can say that like a normal person. "Besides, there's still a lot I want to learn about science."

"And I will happily continue to teach you," Hilbert says, with a little nod. "Though I am afraid that you will have to be the one to ask for any equipment you wish."

"Yes. Though, while I haven't heard about the Judge being generous, it's not as if either of us could ask the Admiral."

"We could ask the Admiral some things," Hilbert clarifies. He hesitates before continuing. "I learned some information about my work back home. I asked the Admiral to verify that information. It did."

"I suppose it would be better to just say it was inconsistent." Nathaniel has not forgotten or forgiven the refusal to give him a simple amulet. "What did you learn?"

There's another pause as Hilbert puts the words together. When he does, it's in a neutral tone. Something calm. Something that's trying to hide how he truly feels about the matter.

"Back home, I was working on project called Decima. The end goal was to help cure diseases, boost regeneration, things of that sort. After I died, Kepler told me that the Decima project, that my research, was used as bioweapon. I did not believe him. I asked the Admiral to confirm that information."

Another pause. "Kepler was right."

Nathaniel listens, seriously, and not just because he can generally always be described as a serious young man. He might not be able to understand all of what that could mean, scientifically, or the full blow of it personally, but he can imagine a little of it.

"They misused your research. People always try to use you, to take everything you have and turn it to their own ends, whether that aligns with what you want or not. But at least it can mean there's something there."

You just have to be strong enough that you can become the one using others.

"That it does," Hilbert says, with a nod. There's a long pause, a hesitant pause, a pause where Hilbert grapples with two different extremes before he continues,

"I wanted my research to be something that cured people. That helped. And it will. But...it will take longer than expected."

Nathaniel's quiet for a few moments, wrestling with his words. He's old enough - sophisticated enough - to know what he wants to say is the sort of thing dismissed by people in power. But as different as the fields are, Hilbert is one of the first people to speak the words he's wanted to hear from someone else.

"When I was first taken as an apprentice, I didn't understand the opportunity I'd been given." It is rather embarrassing that, at age five, he hadn't understood how lucky he was to have been given away by his parents. "But I learned that if I worked my hardest to become a good magician, I'd be able to help people. That's what it's all for." That's why he'd given up his life. "But the higher you go, the more a lot of people just care about serving themselves. And to get anywhere you have to compromise and work for people who don't try to help and don't deserve your work. And it's a lot more mixed up then I saw it as a child.

"But having come up with something that can cure people, that can help so much - that's something amazing. Even if it takes more time than it should, because of how other people try to use it, it's still more than most people will ever do."

It's...nice. It's nice to have your work validated. Your actions. What you have built your entire life around.

Because at it's core, that's what Hilbert's choices are. They are the actions of a scared man who lost so much when he was young and simply does not want anyone to suffer like that again. Granted, the methods to achieving that goal are dubious at best. Someone still needs to learn that you do not use coworkers as test subjects. But to hear that working to cure people is amazing...that's something that, though he will never admit it, Hilbert is glad to hear.

"The Decima project has potential. Under the right circumstances, it reversed the effects of repeated frostbite. So I agree with you. People otherwise...they may think different. They may see my work with virus and think that it is just that: a work with a virus. But I am trying to help. And will continue to do so."

That, at least, is a lot easier to respond to.

"A lot of people are stupid, and even many of the smarter ones have limited vision. It would probably be easier to work if more of them could understand, but I haven't heard that there's a medical cure for that. What you can do is far more important."

Easy, because he absolutely believes everything he's saying. And sometimes it's safe to share a little of what you believe.

Hilbert lets out a quiet little 'heh' of a laugh, turning to Nathaniel as he nods. "You are correct, of course. Others will always judge my work. What matters is I get it done and continue working despite their judgement."

Because it is important and he is on the right path and screw you Warren Kepler.

Nathaniel nods, in firm agreement.

He believes in Hilbert. And he wouldn't believe for any reason other than practical assessment that it's the reasonable thing to do.

It's nice to have someone in your court. Not that he'll ever admit it, but still.

"I should probably try to get some rest," Hilbert grumbles. "I have oar shift coming up soon. Would appreciate knowing what the Judge's response is when you ask it."

He nods.

"I will." Anything more than that could verge into the overly emotional (that is, admitting to any emotion), so better to just leave it at a professional nod.

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hard times / open!

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