trans_9 | (no subject)

Unable to quite suppress her curiosity, Lacaille had followed the signs as soon as she found the first one, and soon came upon the census setup. With Haro bounding behind her, she peered at the data slates, then at the man who'd presumably set it all up.

"Oh, this is a great idea," she remarked with a broad smile. "Have you got any responses so far?"

Wednesday peers at the robot-thing curiously, stretching a bit - he was leaned back in his chair in a way that suggests he'd have had a hat tilted over his eyes if he even had one. "You're the first, my dear," he says with a spry smile, and for just a moment the old man seems as if he could so much younger than he is. "Might I have your name?" he says, sliding one of the slates smoothly between his fingers like some esoteric magic trick, producing a matching stylus from nowhere with his other hand.

"Andromeda Lacaille Adair. I usually go by Lacaille, though."

"Haro!" Haro interjected at the peak of a bounce, at which point Lacaille grabbed it with an indulgent smile and tucked it under her arm. "Quiet mode, Haro," she said, tapping it, and the flickering of its eyes slowed to a steady blink.

With that settled, she turned back to the census-taker. "What information are you collecting? I've been trying to keep track of everyone and their worlds, but it's a little difficult without a proper database..."

Wednesday notes this on the slate, looking from it back up to Lacaille. "As much as I can, actually, within reasonable bounds. Gender, place and date of birth, current age and last residence, species and-or ethnicity, religious affiliation, marital status, level of education, profession... and anything else people are willing to share." He takes in a breath after rattling that all off. "If you're willing, it should only take a minute or three."

"That's a good start," Lacaille remarks with an approving nod. "Will it be publicly available? Lesath--" she gestures vaguely upwards to indicate Stacy "--is keeping enough secrets from us as it is."

"Yes, unless anyone should want their information kept private. But I'd still love, at least, the chance to examine the overall demographics... there may be some hidden pattern in who's been 'chosen' for all this." He smiles at her - it may be soon that she notices there's something just a little off with his right eye.

"Good." She looks decidedly pleased by this. "Once we're done, I can help you collect information, and sort through it all--I'm good with data analysis." She pauses, seeming to notice something, and leans in a little to peer more closely at his face, almost as if examining a specimen. "What's wrong with your eye?"

"Oh, this old thing?" And just like that he pops the eye out - it happens to be one made out of fairly high-quality glass. He spins it between his fingers a few times before sliding it smoothly back into its socket. This close, it's easy to see the crack running down the right side of the false iris. "I've never been quite able to put it back together properly, but I don't think I could stand to get a new one..."

Lacaille watches, fascinated, as if she'd never seen anything like it before. "Why not?" she asks once he's done, genuinely curious. "I'm sure this place has facilities where you can get an organic replacement, or at least a decent prosthetic."

Wednesday's expression momentarily darkens. "The lack of something can be as important as its presence, sometimes. This eye's loss had a reason to it, and I wouldn't feel quite right doing something as simple as getting another one." His tone seems to be one meant to brook no argument, as silly as the idea might be.

"Oh, um, all right." With that, Lacaille backs off of the topic, though it's pretty clear that she doesn't entirely understand, and is trying very hard to resist inquiring further. "So, where should I start with the census data?"

"How about, your gender - you know, just so I'm not assuming-" -there's a hint of humor in his expression- "-your place and date of birth, your current age..."

Lacaille's answer is prompt and precise. "Female, born on the Arion-class carrier Messier in synchronous orbit around Sedna in the Sol system. Time of birth was February second, Aevum Astrorum 318, Common Era 2541,at 14:29 Universal Standard Time. Current age is... approximately 24 years and 39 days, if my internal clock's still accurate."

Wednesday's eyes go up, but he notes this all down quickly and efficiently. "You have an internal clock? Oh, and - your last residence and species-ethnicity-nationality, if you would be so kind."

"Kind of. I can keep track of it, but I'm not as accurate as an atomic clock or anything, of course, and it's harder now without a real clock to orient myself with after I wake up..."

Her rambling eventually brings her around to answering the next set of questions, though. "Last residence was the Messier. Species is..." She actually pauses here for a moment, seeming to consider something. "Most closely resembling Homo sapiens sapiens," she finally answers, "but arguably with enough genetic difference to be considered part of the theorized scitus subspecies. Ethnicity is Martian/Europan, probably chiefly Caucasian. Nationality..." Her expression shifts to a small, puzzled frown. "Not applicable?"

"All right," Wednesday says, though his face has twisted rather curiously at all that. "Religion-if-any, marital status, the highest level of education you've completed?" His expression suggests that he's practically dying to ask more-pressing questions, but that he'd like to note the basics down first.

"Atheist, single..." The education question made her hesitate for a moment. "No formal schooling, technically."

Nathan stopped in, and eyed the one eyed elderly gentlemen behind the desk.

"We got a census bureau now?"

"Indeed we do," Wednesday says with a friendly smile. "Might I have your name, if you'd be willing to volunteer your information?"

He stepped further in, striding in.

"Yeah, I'm Nathan Petrelli, and who are you?"

The man notes that down. "Wednesday," he says pleasantly, as if the name isn't strange at all. "Your current age and date of birth?"

Canon suggested his birth year be around 1967, but no exact date now. Other than him likely being 40 years old. So he mentioned them.

"What's next, rank and serial number too?"

"If you'd like," Wednesday says with a vaguely snide grin. "Last residence, species and ethnicity, and religious affiliation, if you'd please?"

"I'm going to try and see if there's any correlation between the people who have been awakened," he confides, almost as an afterthought.

"There probably is, and it's New York, Human or at least as far as we know, and Italian, and we don't practice. Raised Catholic."

"Mmm, it's a good church," Wednesday comments half-directly, noting those down. "Very solid. Marital status, and your level of education?"

"Married, and practicing law."

"So that's what happened to all the furniture," Paco said, jerking his head at the arrows and signs posted on the wall. He picked up one of the data-slates and scanned the first couple questions. "How's your temple-undecorating project going?"

"Oh, fairly well, but I thought I'd get a bit of a side project going, too," Wednesday says, gesturing vaguely. "If there's anything connecting all of us, I'd like to find it. It might give a better idea of why we've been stuck here."

"Natural awesome?" Paco suggested with a grin. What, it could be true. "I can probably answer any questions about Jaime; we've known each other since we were kids. What do you want to know?"

Wednesday offers another of the data-slates, his big, solid eyebrows going up. "Well, if you wouldn't mind filling out the same information for him?" he says. "It is something of an interesting line of thought. Narrative structures can be very powerful."

Paco set to work on filling out both data-slates, humming tunelessly to himself. Part way through, he glanced up.

"Gonna have to grab Jaime if you want anything on Khaji. You might, since he's technically here too, but what are your thoughts on...damn, what's the word? It's not 'parasite' because they're partners... Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"What's all this, then?" Alright, so Zel was at the point where he would mutter to himself. It wasn't as if he had much else to really do.

The signs had caught his attention, and finally curiosity had gotten the best of him. How many people were in on this, really?

"Hello again," Wednesday says with a smile, offering Zelgadis one of the slates, complete with information form ready to be filled out. "I'd like to see if I can find some common element between all of us here."

A common element? Between all of them? It seemed far-fetched, when you started factoring things in like alternate worlds and universe. Zel took the odd, alien notepad and absently turned it over in his fingers, studying it without really seeing it. It bothered him to know that it worked, but not how it worked.

"I'd guess that everyone here has seen strife in their lives at one point or another, but then again, who hasn't?"

Some of these things.. he wasn't sure how to answer, or even why. It wasn't like any of these people knew the country where he was born, or would have even heard of their religion, for that matter!

Though the answers he did put down would probably surprise anyone; he was young, barely twenty years old. Not to mention the single word 'human' was stubbornly placed under the species column.