What Has It Got In Its Pocketses?

I don't like your tone, young lady.

To be fair, Jupiter had not actually said that, but it was a phrase that Cait had heard often enough that she could hear the echoes of it still, even if other people didn't. As usual, she responded with a combination of flippancy and truth, the sort of well, here it is if you want it, what are you going to do about it? vibe that was good for masking a lot of things.

"I'm practicing for when I take over L-9." Not that this was something Cait had any desire to do any time soon, and sure, it was just as likely she'd end up shuffled off the mortal coil before Strings did, but if things worked out in twenty years or so... well, everyone had to have a gaol, didn't they?

That phrase only worked in her head because she could envision the misspelling and the proper spelling and it would have been completely unappreciated if she'd said it out loud. Maybe she could work it into an email or something.

But for now, there were other Curiosities. Cait took a second to think about it, then made a so-so motion with her hand. "I don't think I could define her." Her, not it. That seemed to be more or less fixed, although Cait wasn't sure it had to be. Maybe Gail could have defined her, with enough paperwork to back it up, if she could get enough contracts written before anyone started Questioning them. They hadn't tried, though. Curiosity wasn't meant to be constrained - at least, not at L-9.

"But, you know, she seems to like to look a bit like Gail. Younger. Maybe the age I was when I got here. You can read into that what you like, but I have decided not to touch it with a twenty-feet tentacle." Which would, of course, be a tentacle with twenty feet on it... would they be human feet? Or little puppy paws? Or would they be all sorts of different feet because, really, standardization was for suckers?

Would there also be suckers? Would they be on the feet? Depths, she missed L-9 right now.
 
Jupiter recognized the flippant mask for what it was. His smile changed again, becoming more genuine as she expressed ambition that wasn’t entirely joking. At least she knew where she wanted to end up, and he had no doubt that Strings wouldn’t want anyone else to be his successor. Except maybe Weber, but no Council at any time would vote Duet in.

Then again, people had said that about Strings, and here they were. Surprises were part and parcel for the Foundation.

Corby did answer his question, however. She didn’t really seem to want to, but she wasn’t Councilman Ghost yet, and she accepted his admonition with more readiness than he’d expected.

“Strings has had her for twelve or thirteen years now,” he said, not quite ignoring Corby’s concerns so much as proposing a different reason for the appearance. “And, given Agent Weber has the written form for her, their similiarity doesn’t surprise me.”

He rolled into the hers, because that matched up with Cait’s perception as well as how it related to his current project. There was likely a smooth way to roll into it, but he let the brief realization slip into his face as it came to him, and seemed to become distracted again by his purpose here.

“She took the godbait for a walk this past weekend. What did you observe about them?”

That was very vague, and broad, which might have been a test, or might have been a simple expectation, or might have been a mix of both. He did tell her, in that statement, that he knew she was the observational agent present – one of two, the other being the Locusts’ sole security agent. But Cait was a field agent, even with her researcherly tendencies of consequence analysis, and she would have a different perspective than anyone in Security.
 
Cait accepted the alternate theory with a shrug: maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. If someone stopped as soon as they found one right answer, they didn't belong at L-9. Still, it wasn't worth worrying too much about. It was what it was, whatever that was.

His next statement got a surprised look, and then a giggle rather than an answer. "You're calling her godbait?" Oh, that was funny. Strings would have approved. And thought it was funny. Cait didn't know whether someone ought to tell him or just wait for Jupiter to slip up in front of him... probably the second. He liked surprises.

"Anyway. Observations. First, she's a leader and not a follower. She had a plan going in, and she seems to think several steps ahead. For a question, she's got a lot of answers, yeah?" Cait shrugged, considering. "The godbait is... a friend, I think. They're friendly, anyway. But also, she's an audience. Nimsy could have done it all on her own, but she wanted someone there with her to see it. Showmanship, yeah? Gets that from Strings, I'm sure."
 
“You’ll be delighted to know everyone is currently calling her either godbait, or 1003,” Jupiter reassured her, with a warm smile to accompany her laughter.

“It’s a very Strings move, but Strings would not bring a friend to posture with.” He’d bring a perceived rival, to make them squirm or bask in their hate. Something about keeping your enemies closer than your friends. Of course, Strings didn’t have friends, so that might also be part of it. “But you’re right, there didn’t seem to be any aggression between the two. L’Étrange, as Hack has taken to calling her for the same reason we’re using 1003 or godbait for Ira, seems as brazen as her father without the latent aggression. I’m choosing to take that as a sign of good upbringing in his absence.”

He’d watched the doctored footage, although he knew there was undoctored footage, somewhere. The children had not been normal in a conventional sense on their outing, but there had been no public outcry, either, so cleanup had been quiet and complete. The Locusts were a right-hand team, sure, but they were a left-hand team more often, as was usually necessary of those who dealt in the occult.

There was something else in what Cait had said, though, one of those layers-on-layers things he’d gotten used to from working with Strings for years. “You called L’Étrange a question, and earlier a Curiosity. Do you think that’s what she’s supposed to be the god of, or just that that’s what she’s become from being at Nine?”

That didn’t have a right answer. He was just realizing that Cait, like Strings long before her, didn’t have a willing audience very often, and it was a good idea to give her an outlet for babbling before she accidentally (maybe) bored (or worse, interested) someone to death (literally or figuratively) at Fourteen. It was a refreshing change of pace for him, too, but she’d come to visit him, and he was doing his best to figure out what she’d needed.
 
"Hmmm." Cait drew the syllable out, a non-word almost split into two non-words, joined together at the middle by something in common. Nothing followed immediately - not silence, not stillness - this was Cait, after all, and she was rarely either. There was a watchfulness over the waves, the occasional scuffs in the sand that could have been meaningless or could have been setting up a spell to turn the entire beach into a little decorative globe to sit on the bookshelf. One never knew, with Cait.

But she was thinking about the question, and whether it was a Question, and whether, if it was a Question, if it was the right sort of questioning they were asking about it.

"I think it's just as likely she got it from Strings, actually." When she did speak, it was with her head slightly tilted and another angle to look at, one that hadn't been part of the original Question question, but might have answered Something, if anyThing wanted to be answered. Or if it didn't.

"Maybe it started off a little like that, sure. But you don't plant an orchid in the desert, yeah? You need the right sort of environment to germinate even before you worry about how it's gonna grow. So... whatever it was before it Was, it wasn't-something that could have been someThing that could Be where it Was Placed. And where it got planted was Strings, and I think that's just as important to the whole thing as it is that she's growing up at 9. I don't think she'd have been the same without him, whatever she is."

Another one of those restless pauses.

"And there's the whole Question of whether she's a god at all."
 
“If not a god, then what?” Jupiter bounced the question back, without the rhetorical air the question would normally have. He was keeping Cait going, not interrupting her with his own thoughts, because they were too many and would likely seem obvious to her, and because now that the ball was rolling, it was good to keep the momentum up.

Strings was important to the formation of the Child. That was the most important fact in what she had said, because it confirmed some suspicions. Whatever her true origins were, Strings was her parent, her father – the same way a foster or adopted parent could entirely replace a biological one, in a human family. That was a good thing, because it gave her a degree of personal attachment to the Foundation.

It was a very bad thing, because it put her at the roots of the Foundation’s hierarchy, and gave Strings, one of the most dangerous men on the council, a weakness.

Jupiter doubted that even Strings would attempt nepotism, especially with the nature of the Child. She was not bound up very well in rules and organization if she was being raised at Nine. But someday, she would leave, ad there was no chance that she would not, because no one would be able to stop something of her degree of power without some very intricate bindings.

Which was what made the distinction between Child, L’Étrange, and godling incredibly relevant.
 
"I think she was probably meant to be a god," Cait said. There was a certain rolling tumble to her tone, less telling him what she thought and more thinking aloud in his general direction. "Except Gail said then she got split, yeah?" That part of it was very much classified information, and even Cait probably wouldn't have known if she weren't supposed to be here looking into the whole situation with the godbait. Jupiter was on the council, though, which meant he was cleared for all the weird intel. Whether or not he'd understand it was another question, but at least she didn't need to play the I certainly didn't say anything about that game here.

"So what's half a god? Is it still a god, or is it a demigod, or is it something else entirely?" Like most theology questions, it wasn't meant to be thought about too deeply, otherwise it just ended up a confused tangle. Then again, thinking about questions like that was what they did over at L-9, so it was really no surprise that Cait was curious about it all.

"Now, from what I've seen, I'd say she'll probably get there some day. But I don't know how that's going to happen. Maybe she'll find that other part out there somehow and be a Whole God again. Maybe she'll merge with part of Ira and get tangled up that way, and what would we have then? It's creative question, isn't it?" Another shrug, another theory. "Or maybe she'll just grow into it on her own after a while, but then you have to ask whether the other part's going to do and whether it's going to grow into it also. So maybe she's two gods. Or two demigods. Or a god and a dead god. I'd say she could be a lot of things."

There were probably a thousand and three other options, too. "Whatever she is, though, Strings was really clear he wanted her to stay at L-9. And since he'd know better than anyone else, that's what we're doing."
 
Theological mathematics was not something Jupiter followed very well, but he looked interested anyway. Cait understood it, or at least took pleasure in the parts she didn’t understand. He followed her emotions and body language, not the words she said, and so he gave her train of thought a little nudge when it finally slowed down.

“If that’s where he wanted her to be, then why did she leave?”

Maybe it was a curiosity question, or a Curiosity question, or maybe he was looking to see how Cait responded to the implication that Curiosity didn’t have free will. It wasn’t a how question – the people at 9 were good, but a newborn deity or semideity was not a joke. Without the right amount of self-control, there was only so much that people could do about its comings and goings. “And why visit Ira rather than Strings? His current location doesn’t have the preventative measures Nine does.”

Mostly because it had Butterfly when it was important, and 707 shared her Councilman’s odd fondness for Strings. But she couldn’t stop a determined godling.
 
Cait shook her head quickly. "No, no. He wanted her to be there because she could leave. Because she could wander off and explore and he knew we'd keep an eye on her and keep her out of real trouble, but not lock her up like they'd do at... uh, other locations." Cait must have been in a good mood, if she wasn't specifically naming the other location in question. It was probably still obvious, but she was being polite about it. "She needs freedom. Adventure. Stimulation. She needs to find out what things are like other places, yeah?"

L-9 was weird enough, but Nimsy was weird at the core of her being. She needed to explore things that were different, and sometimes that meant normal things. Like shopping malls. It was all just part of being who she was. She needed to know what things were like when she wasn't at home. Whether that was because she was a baby godling or just because she was kind of a teenager, who knew - it didn't matter, really. There didn't need to be another Why there.

Or if there was, it could happen later.

And as for the rest of it, Cait just rolled her eyes. "Dude." It was probably not recommended by the Foundation to go around calling members of the Security Council 'Dude', but Cait had never been great about following recommendations. "If you were gonna go run off exploring somewhere at her age, would you go see your parents?"
 
Jupiter didn’t comment on how she didn’t say L-6, or L-5, for that matter. Those were Hack’s locations, and they were locked down tight by all possible mechanical means, and some impossible ones. Hack operated a certain way, and his locations followed suit. Jupiter wasn’t in the habit of blaming people for doing their jobs as they were required to do them.

The question about visiting his parents didn’t visibly catch him by surprise, but that may have been because he covered it with an are you sure you want the answer to that? arch of his eyebrows. He had no idea what the rumor mills were saying these days about his origins, although he did hope the true story was tucked away into history as it was supposed to be. Both for security reasons, and personal ones.

“Not in her situation, no.” That wasn’t a real answer, which made it more secure. Jupiter was not as much of a stickler as Hack, nor as much of a contrarian as Strings, but he was a field agent. Convenient nonanswers had always been his bread and butter. Combined with a knowing kind of smile, he was sure it’d give her more questions, or at least theories.

“It may spoil some of the fun, but we may want to let some of the other location heads know before – or immediately after – she borrows another anomaly along for the adventure going forward.”

It was not a smooth redirect. Partly, he didn’t think training under Weber and Strings would let Cait miss smooth redirects. Partly, the jar might actually successfully redirect the conversation. And partly, it left the door ajar just in case she did decide to try to pursue his nonanswer. Or she could change the subject entirely. That was her prerogative.
 
"That would spoil a lot of the fun," Cait pointed out. Also, it would spoil a lot of the fun for Nimsy, which meant she might resort to doing other things instead. "And you'd have to declassify a lot of stuff. Which you probably don't want to do until Strings is back at L-9." This was a surprisingly rational point, even if it wasn't a subtle one. Sometimes, you didn't need to be subtle, and Cait had already expressed her opinions on wanting Strings back at L-9 again.

Cait shrugged, it wasn't her decision. Sure, she wanted it to be, but people didn't always get what they wanted. And on the subject of not getting what people wanted:

"So, in whose situation? If not hers." Just because Cait had allowed herself to be distracted from that point didn't mean she'd forgotten it. Circling back was always a good way to find out more things, especially if people didn't expect it. What Jupiter expected and what he'd tell her - two different things, she was aware - Cait couldn't know, but she wasn't going to find anything out if she didn't ask.

And she didn't like being the person in the room who didn't know things.
 
Jupiter’s smile neither changed nor shifted as she circled around. She tried to distract him with a comment on the nature of the Godling, but in his opinion she came back to the topic of question too quickly for him to be really distracted from it.

Still, there was a little to be gained from sharing. It helped that he had already had a few other scenarios in mind.

“In the situation of someone who is twelve, or thirteen, who recently found out they were adopted and knew something about their suspected birth parents.” Jupiter shrugged one shoulder. “In the situation of someone living with a cousin, or uncle, who you despise. If you get them drunk or high enough to tell you where they are. In the situation of someone being babysat with a curfew with school the next day, but with a parent in the hospital.”

None of those were the complete truth. One was no truth at all, one was half-part-way, the last was wishful thinking. Not necessarily in that order. He let them sit there, to see if Cait could parse through which was which – or if she proposed a secret fourth idea that he hadn’t considered.
 
"Hmmmm..." It was an equivocating sound, one that could have meant anything, but in this case seemed to be most likely to mean something along the lines of I've just been handed something and I don't know what it is yet, but I can't wait to find out! This being Cait, the theory that whatever she'd been handed could lead to trouble - well, it wasn't that it hadn't crossed her mind, just that this wasn't actually a deterring factor. She'd probably enjoy picking it apart, piecing it together, poking at it, until she found something she wasn't supposed to and everything changed.

Cait wasn't a researcher, but it was less because she didn't enjoy the process and more because researchers seemed to think that once they'd figured something out they were done with it. Field work meant she got to keep playing with her toys.

She had to wonder if there were certain other field agents who ever felt that way.

"I see." A vague feeling that this should have been in French surrounded the statement. Cait held the mannerism - cool, analytical, a bit judgmental - for an extra second or two, then giggled. "Hey! What's your favorite anomaly?"

It was surprising how much you could learn about someone with silly little questions like that.
 
“We~ell,” Jupiter drawled, drawing out the word like the question was a thinker. He leaned in, a little conspiratorially, “If I don’t say Wallace, his feelings might be hurt, and he’ll take another patch out of the pocket string.”

With a flourish, the dustbunny appeared in his hands. In an act of apparent foolishness – because it was Cait Corby – he reached out and, given a hand to do so, deposited the creature in her care. As if that settled everything, he adjusted the overcoat.

Cait had I see’d like someone ready to return to the subject at a later date, once a sufficient level of distraction was reached. Jupiter was very familiar with the method, and returned it, easily. And then he turned back to her subject with the same ease an actor returns to a script from an improvised line.

A good actor, anyway.

“I think all of my personal favorites can be encompassed in the coat.” In every sense, of course. “It serves nearly every purpose I could need on the field, even without the collection I keep in it. If I was a standard agent with only the coat, I’d be just as efficient. Maybe moreso.”

He was quiet for a few steps, then rummaged in a place above the coat’s true pockets.

“A close second, though, is this one.” His hand opened to reveal an old but clean Zippo lighter, engraved with a bar of music in the treble clef. A musician would recognize it as the middle C, dipping below the line in the specific pitch signature. He opened it, and flicked the flint wheel. Rather than ignite, it played the note – middle C – in a long drone, soft enough to be spoken over.

“It’s not quite my first, and it doesn’t do much, but it’s the first one I kept. It’s a sentimental choice.”
 
Being part of an L-9 surface team meant people either learned very quickly not to take things that were handed them, or learned how to get out of whatever they'd gotten themselves into. It would come as a surprise to no one that Cait was in the second category. She promptly accepted the dust bunny, giving it either a little skritch or a little poke with her fingertip, something that turned into an affectionate sort of petting. Or poking.

"If it doesn't work out, we've got Strings at L-9," Cait whispered to the little anomaly, knowing fully well that Jupiter could hear every word. "Usually." The last word was deliberately somewhat scathing, but not directed at Wallace. He was just too cute for that. She would absolutely take him home with her, any day. And feed him Strings?

Well, that was an interesting question - she wondered how it would work? First he'd need to be back, of course, but Cait had no doubt he'd be down for the experiment. It would be interesting.

Jupiter's preference went to the coat, which was... disappointingly practical. Practically disappointing? Oh, sure, it was sensible and relevant and probably good for a whole lot of situations, but-

Well, he wasn't Cait, that was all. Not everyone could be. The lighter she found a more interesting choice, just because it wasn't so practical. The musical notation was easy to read, but even if it hadn't been, Cait knew the sound when she heard it. Perfect pitch was a requirement for the Locusts. Most of them had had it to begin with, and the ones that hadn't - well, Cait and Joshua had figured out how to sort that out a long time ago. It just took a little fiddling about, that was it.

"How long have you had it?" He'd said the first one I kept, but she didn't know how far back that went. It was probably likely to be somewhere in the things that will give you a trip to amnestic therapy and a future headache if you knew the whole story time period, but that covered a lot of ground.
 
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