25th September, 9:30 am. Prison cell.
Sep. 25th, 2012 09:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
therealpm*The first thing that Peter notices when he wakes up is that he can't move. The second thing he notices is the pain that shoots through his limbs when he tries. On further attempts, he finds out that the first isn't strictly true (which is good, because if John or Nigel or anyone else had put some sort of physical binding spell on him on top of all the other restrictions then he might just have had to find a way to kill them with his brain)- moving is just very very difficult and very very slow.
Black Rod has already delivered breakfast- it's steaming gently on the other side of the room, which right now might as well be half way up Ben Nevis for all that Peter can get to it. He shifts one leg sideways. Slowly, so slowly, then winces as his foot hits the cold carpet. After what seems like an hour but was probably less than a minute, the other leg follows and Peter rolls himself upright, suppressing the urge to groan. Wasn't he meant to have got all this aching business out of the way yesterday? He certainly felt like he'd had more than his fair share of muscle cramps and spasms.
He manages to drag one of the blankets around his shoulders- warmth is mean to help with this sort of thing, isn't it?- and pauses. He's going to have to stand up. And then walk. Steeling himself, he tells his legs very firmly that they're going to have to move.
Owowowowowowowowowowowowwwwww
Eventually he collapses in the chair. It provides, he decides, an under-appreciated view of the room and he ought to stay here for some time. Not bothering with the knife, he stabs... well, slowly nudges the fork into some bacon and settles the blanket more securely about his person.
This is ridiculous, even chewing hurts.*
Black Rod has already delivered breakfast- it's steaming gently on the other side of the room, which right now might as well be half way up Ben Nevis for all that Peter can get to it. He shifts one leg sideways. Slowly, so slowly, then winces as his foot hits the cold carpet. After what seems like an hour but was probably less than a minute, the other leg follows and Peter rolls himself upright, suppressing the urge to groan. Wasn't he meant to have got all this aching business out of the way yesterday? He certainly felt like he'd had more than his fair share of muscle cramps and spasms.
He manages to drag one of the blankets around his shoulders- warmth is mean to help with this sort of thing, isn't it?- and pauses. He's going to have to stand up. And then walk. Steeling himself, he tells his legs very firmly that they're going to have to move.
Owowowowowowowowowowowowwwwww
Eventually he collapses in the chair. It provides, he decides, an under-appreciated view of the room and he ought to stay here for some time. Not bothering with the knife, he stabs... well, slowly nudges the fork into some bacon and settles the blanket more securely about his person.
This is ridiculous, even chewing hurts.*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 04:08 pm (UTC)Well? Come along.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 05:14 pm (UTC)What can I do to help with this, Peter?
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 05:21 pm (UTC)*Peter points to a specific patch of floor.*
...and touch nothing.
*He wanders back over to the control panel, and begins putting in the final touches to the program.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 05:48 pm (UTC)Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:09 pm (UTC)He wheels the box over to a well lit section of the room and begins plugging, or in some cases soldering, the miscellaneous bric-a-brac into the central nervous system of The Machine, apologising to it for the hatchet job all the while.
Eventually it is done, and Peter stands in the middle of a strange assortment of recording equipment, fishing around for his speech notes.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:10 pm (UTC)Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:23 pm (UTC)Recording my speeches. Obviously. Now do be quiet and don't interrupt.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:24 pm (UTC)*He glances round the room, taking in the view. There isn't much to see apart from The Machine - now back to it's original size - and a few tools/storage cupboard. John is bored rather quickly.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:33 pm (UTC)Bug fixed, he tries again. The second hologram is two storeys tall and a slightly ominous shade of yellow. Peter quickly cancels that one and fixes the array assignment.
This process continues, with doppelgangers of varying sucess and difficulty to debug, until eventually Peter gets one that is the right size and colour, doesn't flicker and talks within the human hearing range.
Peter sighs, summons a cup of tea, and begins the tedious process of teaching the program how to answer questions.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:35 pm (UTC)Either summon me one of those, or I will forcibly take you back to your cell this instant for breaking our agreed regulations.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:37 pm (UTC)Machine, make Bercow a cup of tea.
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:39 pm (UTC)Thank you, Machine.
*John goes back to being bored, but now with added tea. It is a slight improvement.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 06:45 pm (UTC)Instead, he turns to the problem of a transmitter. It is not a particularly difficult problem, given that he constructed several before John began to get Ideas about how far The Machine's influence should be allowed to extend. The main difficulty will be preventing John from realising this by spending a suitable amount of time engaging in what appears to be a difficult and intricate job.
Peter pulls on a pair of heavy duty gloves and gets to work.*
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 07:05 pm (UTC)What is it you're doing now?
Re: Lunchtime
Date: 2012-09-30 07:27 pm (UTC)Building the transmitter. Alastair will need to give it to Dimbleby or whoever's heading the BBC team. They'll know what to do.