![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
accidental video;
Dec. 15th, 2013 06:40 pm[ooc: Chekov has, like, three minutes of screen time in the new movies and all of his scenes are very short, so here are several of them mashed together! The network would only see 1:00 to 2:25.]
[COMMENTS]
[ooc: Chekov has, like, three minutes of screen time in the new movies and all of his scenes are very short, so here are several of them mashed together! The network would only see 1:00 to 2:25.]
[COMMENTS]
[The recording starts mid-conversation (caused, perhaps, by excited gesticulating). Chekov's voice is loud and clear; any number of other voices can be in the background, along with the occasional clink of glass on glass and the roar of laughter. The words of whoever he's talking to can't be made out.]
--method of teleportation that you are talking about does not lead to the destruction of the individual. I think that you misunderstand how the process works.
[A pause. More background noise.]
No, no no no. Our identity depends upon how the constituent molecules that we are made of are arranged, not upon which molecules have been arranged. There is no difference between one carbon atom and another, do you understand? And so if the position of everything that makes us up is copied perfectly and this information is transmitted and we are annihilated and reassembled, we will, in the end, be the same person as we were at the start.
[His conversational partner apparently has something to say to that.]
No one is killed. I cannot be more specific about the process, but I understand your concern about personal identity and the destruction of the individual being teleported.
[A much longer pause.]
Now you are making the assumption that there is something more than the physical arrangement of constituent particles that leads to this thing called the individual. Unless you are telling me that there is an immaterial soul to be concerned with, what is the concern? From the perspective of the individual being teleported, the process is nearly instantaneous and they experience no cessation of existence or consciousness. As I said, arrangement is what matters.
[Short pause.]
Of course duplication would be possible, that is why any technology capable of copying individuals down to the quantum level would necessitate a number of safety precautions. Responsible engineering can prevent paradoxes like the one you pose.
[Another long pause.]
No, I have not. What is the Ship of Theseus?
[OOC: Open to action at the Wolf's Den. Sorry for backdating, but yesterday's curse was perfect and I missed it and everything was sadness. That said, I don't think Chekov's probably the best of philosophers...]
[COMMENTS]
--method of teleportation that you are talking about does not lead to the destruction of the individual. I think that you misunderstand how the process works.
[A pause. More background noise.]
No, no no no. Our identity depends upon how the constituent molecules that we are made of are arranged, not upon which molecules have been arranged. There is no difference between one carbon atom and another, do you understand? And so if the position of everything that makes us up is copied perfectly and this information is transmitted and we are annihilated and reassembled, we will, in the end, be the same person as we were at the start.
[His conversational partner apparently has something to say to that.]
No one is killed. I cannot be more specific about the process, but I understand your concern about personal identity and the destruction of the individual being teleported.
[A much longer pause.]
Now you are making the assumption that there is something more than the physical arrangement of constituent particles that leads to this thing called the individual. Unless you are telling me that there is an immaterial soul to be concerned with, what is the concern? From the perspective of the individual being teleported, the process is nearly instantaneous and they experience no cessation of existence or consciousness. As I said, arrangement is what matters.
[Short pause.]
Of course duplication would be possible, that is why any technology capable of copying individuals down to the quantum level would necessitate a number of safety precautions. Responsible engineering can prevent paradoxes like the one you pose.
[Another long pause.]
No, I have not. What is the Ship of Theseus?
[OOC: Open to action at the Wolf's Den. Sorry for backdating, but yesterday's curse was perfect and I missed it and everything was sadness. That said, I don't think Chekov's probably the best of philosophers...]
[COMMENTS]
action // video
Oct. 23rd, 2013 03:50 pmACTION;
[Chekov may have woken up with a cluster of sullen, chatty balloons that look like they belong at a misery-themed party shadowing him, but he's not about to let a nonlethal thing like that prevent him from going about his day as usual. They follow him during his morning jog (he takes care to avoid the pockets of strangeness that have been popping up, as there is only so much weirdness that he likes in his life at any given moment) and to the City Solutions Laboratory. They trail him to the labs that have been taken over by Starfleet (he doesn't linger there) and to the hospital where he visits friends who were injured in the recent attacks, glowering, as ominous and dark as any potentially hostile region of space.
( More action! )
VIDEO;
[Judging by the view--the back of Chekov's head--this is not an intentional recording. He's sitting at Lucy's baby grand, tense, posture hinting at anger. The talking balloons are still hovering over him like a raincloud, chatting away. There are fewer than there were earlier, but the remaining faces seem eager to make up for this by being exceptionally strident.]
Vy ubili yeye.
Failure.
Ty brosil svoyu sem'yu.
Slishkom medlenno.
You killed her.
Their deaths were your fault.
Bespoleznyy.
Useless.
[They've been at it all day and Chekov doesn't want to hear it anymore. In an effort to drown them out, he launches into what must be the angriest and most aggressive interpretation of Rachmaninov's Prelude in C sharp minor of all time. He's not great--out of practice rather than untrained--and it only takes about a minute and a half before the balloons, which have only grown louder to combat the piano, reduce the boy to discordant keysmashing.
He gives up after a particularly enthusiastic plunk of the keys and mumbles something at the balloons. The network device doesn't pick his words up, but it's safe to assume that he didn't say anything pleasant to the specters.]
Failure.
Slishkom molod.
Ty brosil svoyu sem'yu.
You'll never succeed.
[Maybe an angry rendition of something by Balakirev will be more effective. Watchers won't get to find out; the video ends abruptly.]
[COMMENTS]
[Chekov may have woken up with a cluster of sullen, chatty balloons that look like they belong at a misery-themed party shadowing him, but he's not about to let a nonlethal thing like that prevent him from going about his day as usual. They follow him during his morning jog (he takes care to avoid the pockets of strangeness that have been popping up, as there is only so much weirdness that he likes in his life at any given moment) and to the City Solutions Laboratory. They trail him to the labs that have been taken over by Starfleet (he doesn't linger there) and to the hospital where he visits friends who were injured in the recent attacks, glowering, as ominous and dark as any potentially hostile region of space.
( More action! )
VIDEO;
[Judging by the view--the back of Chekov's head--this is not an intentional recording. He's sitting at Lucy's baby grand, tense, posture hinting at anger. The talking balloons are still hovering over him like a raincloud, chatting away. There are fewer than there were earlier, but the remaining faces seem eager to make up for this by being exceptionally strident.]
Vy ubili yeye.
Failure.
Ty brosil svoyu sem'yu.
Slishkom medlenno.
You killed her.
Their deaths were your fault.
Bespoleznyy.
Useless.
[They've been at it all day and Chekov doesn't want to hear it anymore. In an effort to drown them out, he launches into what must be the angriest and most aggressive interpretation of Rachmaninov's Prelude in C sharp minor of all time. He's not great--out of practice rather than untrained--and it only takes about a minute and a half before the balloons, which have only grown louder to combat the piano, reduce the boy to discordant keysmashing.
He gives up after a particularly enthusiastic plunk of the keys and mumbles something at the balloons. The network device doesn't pick his words up, but it's safe to assume that he didn't say anything pleasant to the specters.]
Failure.
Slishkom molod.
Ty brosil svoyu sem'yu.
You'll never succeed.
[Maybe an angry rendition of something by Balakirev will be more effective. Watchers won't get to find out; the video ends abruptly.]
[COMMENTS]
[Chekov, slightly disheveled, is seated in the cottage's living room (toying, of course, with a gadget of some sort, as the boy has difficulties being still and without a task. There's a stranger seated next to him. He appears slightly older, considerably broader through the shoulders, a good deal taller, and far less inclined to fidget than the eighteen year-old.]
I'm told that this is an acceptable way to address the City. [The stranger has a distinctly Russian accent. It is, however, far easier to comprehend than Chekov's.] My name is Pavel Chekov.
And I believe that you may be a version [wersion] of me from an alternate reality.
Or you may be a version [the 'v' is not mangled] of me.
Being older does not give you the right to be the original Pavel Chekov. Anyway, I think that this is a curse and you will leave in a day or so and I'll still be here.
[The two Chekovs are no longer making any attempt to address the camera. There's a palpable uneasiness between them--a silent war in the making. Both of them manage to remain relatively genial in both expression and tone, but the uneasiness is clear all the same.]
I almost envy you. If this is a cage, as you said, it's a very nice one. The vodka is good, all of the women are beautiful--
Of course the vodka is good; it's mine. Maybe you are older and better at fighting, but I know how to choose a good drink. [Chekov--the one the City is more accustomed to--grabs the bottle of Stoli from his counterpart.] You're far enough into the bottle. Give it to me.
As they say in Russia, "I don't need your valuable directives."
This is my home and my vodka. You should be more courteous.
If you were a better host, maybe... [Taller, less adorable Chekov ruffles the other Chekov's hair. The latter is not amused.] But why fight when we can settle this like men? One more fight, fists only. The winner gets to stay here and the loser goes.
[Chekov rubs a bruised cheek, sulky.] You have the advantage.
I was joking. Let's drink and be friends.
I would rather go running.
Please, do what you like. Perhaps I can become better acquainted with Misses Uhura.
Don't flirt with her--either of her. [Curly-haired Chekov sets his gadget and the bottle of vodka aside and moves out of sight. The other Chekov watches him curiously, reclaims the vodka, and takes a healthy swig.] I say that for her benefit and yours. She dislikes it.
Have a good run!
[A door slams. The remaining Chekov gives the camera an apologetic smile.]
Forgive Pavel's ill-humor; he may be mad at me for winning our sparring match. But, if you would like to talk to me, my humor is intact and I have little to do.
[ooc: Chekov isn't getting on well with his Good Side (if you want some tl;dr on said Good Side, it's right here). Actual!Chekov can either be action'd up while out or contacted via the network later on; Other!Chekov is free for network communication. If you fancy talking to both, that can happen later. Do indicate to whom and when your characters are replying!]
[COMMENTS]
I'm told that this is an acceptable way to address the City. [The stranger has a distinctly Russian accent. It is, however, far easier to comprehend than Chekov's.] My name is Pavel Chekov.
And I believe that you may be a version [wersion] of me from an alternate reality.
Or you may be a version [the 'v' is not mangled] of me.
Being older does not give you the right to be the original Pavel Chekov. Anyway, I think that this is a curse and you will leave in a day or so and I'll still be here.
[The two Chekovs are no longer making any attempt to address the camera. There's a palpable uneasiness between them--a silent war in the making. Both of them manage to remain relatively genial in both expression and tone, but the uneasiness is clear all the same.]
I almost envy you. If this is a cage, as you said, it's a very nice one. The vodka is good, all of the women are beautiful--
Of course the vodka is good; it's mine. Maybe you are older and better at fighting, but I know how to choose a good drink. [Chekov--the one the City is more accustomed to--grabs the bottle of Stoli from his counterpart.] You're far enough into the bottle. Give it to me.
As they say in Russia, "I don't need your valuable directives."
This is my home and my vodka. You should be more courteous.
If you were a better host, maybe... [Taller, less adorable Chekov ruffles the other Chekov's hair. The latter is not amused.] But why fight when we can settle this like men? One more fight, fists only. The winner gets to stay here and the loser goes.
[Chekov rubs a bruised cheek, sulky.] You have the advantage.
I was joking. Let's drink and be friends.
I would rather go running.
Please, do what you like. Perhaps I can become better acquainted with Misses Uhura.
Don't flirt with her--either of her. [Curly-haired Chekov sets his gadget and the bottle of vodka aside and moves out of sight. The other Chekov watches him curiously, reclaims the vodka, and takes a healthy swig.] I say that for her benefit and yours. She dislikes it.
Have a good run!
[A door slams. The remaining Chekov gives the camera an apologetic smile.]
Forgive Pavel's ill-humor; he may be mad at me for winning our sparring match. But, if you would like to talk to me, my humor is intact and I have little to do.
[ooc: Chekov isn't getting on well with his Good Side (if you want some tl;dr on said Good Side, it's right here). Actual!Chekov can either be action'd up while out or contacted via the network later on; Other!Chekov is free for network communication. If you fancy talking to both, that can happen later. Do indicate to whom and when your characters are replying!]
[COMMENTS]
( Action at the House // Open to Uhura )
( Private Video // Locked to Lucy )
[Action // Open]
[After acquiring appropriate attire and getting over the initial surprise of waking up with a... ah, different body, Chekov spends the weekend playing a game of let's-see-who-can-recognize-me with acquaintances (when he's not at work, of course, as a gender swap is no excuse to call in sick).
He might be seven inches shorter and curvier than normal, but that accent is all too easy to identify.]
[COMMENTS]
( Private Video // Locked to Lucy )
[Action // Open]
[After acquiring appropriate attire and getting over the initial surprise of waking up with a... ah, different body, Chekov spends the weekend playing a game of let's-see-who-can-recognize-me with acquaintances (when he's not at work, of course, as a gender swap is no excuse to call in sick).
He might be seven inches shorter and curvier than normal, but that accent is all too easy to identify.]
[COMMENTS]
action / audio
Dec. 30th, 2012 12:20 pm[open contact]
[Those who know Chekov might find his behavior this weekend peculiar by virtue of the fact that he seems to have disappeared. He's not tinkering with various "projects" in the living room, working at City Solutions, out running, or popping in on various acquaintances. Maybe it's time to try sending a message...]
( Action // CLOSED to Korra )
( Private Message to Hei // UNHACKABLE )
[ooc: Morality reversal curse! Chekov has an agenda and may not be amused by calls; feel free to contact him anyway.]
[COMMENTS]
[Those who know Chekov might find his behavior this weekend peculiar by virtue of the fact that he seems to have disappeared. He's not tinkering with various "projects" in the living room, working at City Solutions, out running, or popping in on various acquaintances. Maybe it's time to try sending a message...]
( Action // CLOSED to Korra )
( Private Message to Hei // UNHACKABLE )
[ooc: Morality reversal curse! Chekov has an agenda and may not be amused by calls; feel free to contact him anyway.]
[COMMENTS]
I realize that many people are distressed by this curse and I'm very sorry for that, but I have a question: are eighteenth birthdays of any special significance where you are from? At home, eighteen is the age at which someone is considered an adult. It is also the minimum drinking age in many places, as well as the minimum age for a variety of activities that I have been told about but would rather not repeat here.
Are birthdays celebrated here? We age, I know that, but it seems greedy to celebrate a birthday here only to celebrate it again after we have left.
( Private to Doc Brown )
( Private to Delacroix & Pepper Potts )
( Private to Charlie )
[ooc: Yes, he is cursed. No, he does not want to share. Most importantly, tomorrow is his eighteenth birthday. There's also this deity trade thing that happened, but he would rather not talk about that, either. Or Howl. Or...]
Are birthdays celebrated here? We age, I know that, but it seems greedy to celebrate a birthday here only to celebrate it again after we have left.
( Private to Doc Brown )
( Private to Delacroix & Pepper Potts )
( Private to Charlie )
[ooc: Yes, he is cursed. No, he does not want to share. Most importantly, tomorrow is his eighteenth birthday. There's also this deity trade thing that happened, but he would rather not talk about that, either. Or Howl. Or...]
City, if I may have your attention, please.
[Chekov is seated at a table (the kitchen table in the house he shares with Howl, Sophie, Tessa, and Peter, to be precise) with a serious expression on his face. For the purpose of this post, he is annunciating very carefully.]
I have noticed, in both this time and my own, that my homeland is not well understood or appreciated by those who are not familiar with the Russian Federation. I am proud of my country, as I think that some have noticed. Sometimes, when I am joking, I say things about Russia that are not entirely true. Today, I’m not joking. I am serious now when I say that there is no place in the known galaxy that is better than Russia.
( Non-IC cut for ridiculous length. )
[COMMENTS]
[Chekov is seated at a table (the kitchen table in the house he shares with Howl, Sophie, Tessa, and Peter, to be precise) with a serious expression on his face. For the purpose of this post, he is annunciating very carefully.]
I have noticed, in both this time and my own, that my homeland is not well understood or appreciated by those who are not familiar with the Russian Federation. I am proud of my country, as I think that some have noticed. Sometimes, when I am joking, I say things about Russia that are not entirely true. Today, I’m not joking. I am serious now when I say that there is no place in the known galaxy that is better than Russia.
( Non-IC cut for ridiculous length. )
[COMMENTS]
(no subject)
May. 18th, 2012 10:24 pmHas everyone survived finals? sent at 20:49 |
[By nightfall, Chekov has traded the university for the beach. It's a quiet enough location when no one is holding an impromptu party and, most importantly, it offers the best view of the sky in the City (the best view, that is, that can be had without trekking up a small mountain). The seventeen year-old is alternating between stargazing and writing--drawing?--in a notebook, aided by the light function of his network device.
He might also be taking an occasional break from these two activities to build a sandcastle near the shoreline, but no one needs to know about that. It will be gone by the time the tide comes in and Chekov will go back to pretending to be a mature adult.]
I hope that your party was good and that you did not fail everything and disappoint Sophie. |
Did your Mandarin test go well? I passed the English proficiency test but I was told that I am difficult to understand even if I (usually) say the correct thing. sent at 20:44 |
Everything is finished finally! Are you busy this evening? I have a very important question that I would like to ask you in person although I hope I already know the answer to it. sent at 20:23 |
[COMMENTS]
