Pavel Andreievich Chekov

( Better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie. [Russian saying] )

Source: Roleplay (MarinaNova)
Time: Day 412


Pavel and Kitty are in bed together. The former is wide awake and way more tense than someone in his position probably should be, the latter is still asleep, and both are, mercifully, wearing pajamas. Small miracles. 

Kitty stirs, tilts her head to look at her bedmate, and offers him a sleepy, "Hi."

Pavel relaxes incrementally and even summons a smile. "Good morning."

"That would be my preference," she replies, still a bit drowsy, before leaning in slowly to give him a soft kiss. He returns it eagerly and quickly forgets all about being nervous. Her hand slides through his hair; he moves closer.

"I still love you," he says quietly, almost absently. 

Kitty smiles. "I love--" But then she catches herself. Her smile vanishes and she looks so, so apologetic and sad. "I, um... I'm going to wait."

Pavel has clear and immediate regrets and all of that tension returns full force. "I didn't mean--" He brings up a hand to cup her cheek. "I'm sorry, yes, you can wait. You can wait indefinitely if you like, I don't mind, you never need to say it back."

She wraps her arms around him and hides her face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Pasha."

He hugs her tightly. "It's okay. Everything is fine."

There's a long moment of silence before Kitty's hiding turns into nuzzling. "It was a good future."

"It was," he agrees quietly. "It was very good."

"Our tribble was cute."

"Yes, Pushistyy." The stupid name makes him smile, but it only lasts a moment. "The... ah, our arrangement was... interesting."

"Yeah... I never would have guessed that one. I guess that's how you know it's one of their games and not the actual future. It seemed more like something Jack would have worked out instead." Kitty glances over at the blue band on her wrist--an action that Pavel ascribes no immediate significance to.

He does, however, roll just far enough away to give her a curious and puzzled look. "You wouldn't want something like that if the bands were gone?"

"Pavel, I can't tell you what I might want twenty years from now, but right now I just want to be with you."

He nods, then closes the space between them once again. "I want that now, too. How we are, like this... I'm happy with you."

"I'm happy with you," Kitty echoes before dipping in for a quick kiss. "There is something you should know about yesterday though."

That tone elicits some concern. "What is it that I should know?"

She hesitates. "I was... I used the agreement that we had yesterday."

He gives her one of those long looks that always means he's thinking too hard about some new piece of information. "Ah. After we..." And back to thinking. "That was the purpose of the agreement, yes. It only makes sense that you would... er, take advantage of it."

"I really wish I hadn't." She threads her fingers with his. "These things are going to happen here sometimes. The mistletoe bots, the shared dreams, waking up with new memories... Maybe we should talk about how we want to handle it as a couple?"

"I understand." He looks down at their interlaced hands and gives hers a squeeze. "None of these things can be controlled and neither of us should feel responsible for them when they happen." Because, as they both know, that is exactly how emotions work. "What makes sense to you? You have had to navigate a relationship with these obstacles before."

"You mean the relationship that self-destructed?"

Pavel winces. "Yes, that one."

"I could say the opposite of whatever we did, but you're not Reid. So we should probably figure out what works for us." Kitty's voice softens. "I guess for me I'd want honest and clear, but not detailed. And reassurance. I just always want to be able to talk about things. What about you?"

"I can do that, and I would want the same--honesty and discussion, and to know that you still..." he pauses, trying to find the right phrasing, "find me important. And if you have doubts or if I upset you, I would want to know that also."

She hugs him. "You are very important to me. I want to be with you."

His arms circle her immediately. "You are with me, right now." 

"I am." Kitty has that sad and apologetic look again. "Do you want to know who it was?"

Pavel draws back just a bit. "Yes, please."

"It was Jack."
 
"Aha." A pause, then a slow nod. "You're close to him, I know that."

She takes his hand again. "Yeah..." A deep breath, and then: "He's a close friend, and there has been an attraction for awhile. Part of that is that everyone kind of does because of the future pheromones? And one time we spent a day convinced we were married." Kitty's getting nervous. She's hiding it well, but. "After that things were a little more confusing, but he wants to be with Ianto and I want to be with you."

Pavel frowns in that thinking-hard way. He certainly doesn't look surprised or disappointed, and the way he squeezes her hand seems promising. "This... eh, this was ongoing when you were with Reid? And he knew?"

"Reid and I were broken up when the marriage thing happened." She ducks her head. "My first thought the next morning was just feeling miserable that I'd cheated on him and afraid he'd be upset. Even though I couldn't cheat on him then. And then the whole thing just reminded me of how alone and unloved I felt." She swallows hard and moves along. "Before that when we were together there was some attraction, but outside of mistletoe kisses nothing ever happened. We'd dance together and sometimes he'd get a little jealous, but I always went home with him."

"I wont be jealous if you dance," Pavel replies, "as long as you always remember to dance with me too."

"Always." Kitty looks relieved. She leans in to kiss Pavel. "Thank you for being in my life. I know that wasn't entirely us yesterday, but you made that Kitty feel so happy and loved and free and confident and..." She trails off and just hugs him.

He hugs her back tightly. "I would like to make this Kitty feel the same way someday." 

They hold each other in silence for several moments before Kitty seems to remember that she's a mess. "Are you sure? I wouldn't blame you if you wanted out."

Pavel smiles, not that Kitty can see from her current vantage point. "I am. How could I want out now?"

"Maybe because you were paying attention?" She strokes his hair gently and makes no move to leave his arms. "Pavel, I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want out either so I'm going to have to work on being a good girlfriend."

"You are being one now," he says sincerely. "You're telling me the truth."

She nods even if she doesn't seem that much more confident about what she needs to say. "I am keeping Jack and Reid, if he'll have me, in my life. Not like yesterday. But I can't cut either of them out."

"Kitty, Jack is your friend and Reid is... Reid. Yes, keep them, of course." For the first time in this entire conversation, a little bit of insecurity creeps into his voice. "But try to always come back to me?"

"I'm your boomerang." She hugs him tighter. After a moment... "That was kind of a ridiculous line, wasn't it?"

"No." Or. Well. He smiles and amends that with, "...Yes, a little, but the thought behind it was good."

"I try for at least that." She leans her head against his." Let's just be honest with each other and tell each other what we need and find ways to work it out if something isn't working itself out?"

"Okay. I can do that. I--" An uncertain pause. "Ah... maybe this doesn't matter, but you should know that I have never been with anyone for very long. Never longer than a year, and never with the thought that anything would last."

A smirk turns up the edges of Kitty's mouth. "Feels strange to hear you say that when part of me still feels like we were together for twenty years."

"It's strange to say when I have seen myself with you twenty years from now."

"Did you want anything to last before?"

"Lasting wasn't an option, not if I wanted to continue with Starfleet. Everything has been second to that, always." Pavel pauses the sort of pause that implies that he still has things to say, he just hasn't figured out how to say them. "I want this to last, Kitty, I know that, but I worry that I won't be good at it because I have never done it. Does that make sense?"

"I was with Piotr for years, but I wouldn't be with you now if any of mine had lasted either. And they were all pretty spectacularly heartbreaking by the end, so I'm probably going to have some issues from all of that." Kitty pauses, perhaps realizing that she's tried to scare him off enough for one day, and adds, "For what it's worth, I think you'd be a really great long-term boyfriend."

"I'm not afraid of your issues," he says, again with the deepest sincerity. "I'm afraid of disappointing you. But thank you. I want to try."

Kitty smiles. "You've never disappointed me."

"I'll do everything that I can to keep that true." He lets go of her and kisses her forehead.

Source: Roleplay (Polychromatic)
Time: Year 2 (age ~nineteen)
CW: Death (not graphic)


Pavel is lying on a hospital bed, still and pale. A pretty blonde is by his side, awake and curled up uncomfortably in a chair. Her fingers are interlaced with his and she looks as though she's been crying.

Nyota Uhura, expression grim, enters. There are some words exchanged, but it's impossible to make them out. Nyota stoops to hug the blonde before pulling up a chair of her own. More talking, then the Starfleet officer gets up and walks out.

Pavel's fingers twitch. The blonde is on her feet immediately, shouting something, trying to touch him without hurting him. Pavel tries to smile at her, but everything fades away before he can tell if he successfully reassured her.

The hospital bed returns and Pavel looks even worse than he did before. There's a man standing over him. He mutters something that registers as Russian. Not terribly good Russian.

The words (Russian) gain some clarity. "It's going to be rush hour at the hospital soon. This curse has left wounds everywhere."

Pavel croaks, possibly more to indicate that he's participating in this conversation than to say anything.

Nyota returns and does a double-take when she sees the man. The two exchange a few words (English) that drift in and out.

"You must be--"

"--he'd be glad--"

There's a pause. Nyota looks distraught.

Pavel isn't following, but he tries to say something. "Don't worry." (Russian.)

Nyota brushes past the man to hover over Pavel. "Pasha, shh," she says softly, brushing a curl from his forehead. She replies in Russian. "Don't try to talk. You--"

There's a noise--a klaxon? no--and Nyota's voice is barely audible. Not audible. She's gone.

Everything's gone.

Source: Roleplay (Polychromatic)
Time: Year 2 (age ~nineteen)
CW: Threatening of small Russians


The setting of the next scene is dark. The landing could be in a stairwell in any seedy establishment with its grubby walls and poor lighting. Pavel, nineteen now, is being thrown against one of those walls by a man who can't be more than a decade older than him. A dark-haired woman who looks about Pavel's age is receiving similar treatment next to him.

"It was my idea," Pavel is saying, afraid for both of them but doing his level best not to show it. "You can let Korra go."

The man doesn't say anything for a long while--it's not a particularly reassuring silence--and then, with a quiet zzt and a spark of electricity from the man's hand, the young woman falls to the ground unconscious. "And here I thought chivalry was dead." He wraps his hand around Pavel's throat and, with more strength than he looks like he should have, hauls the Russian up a flight of stairs. Pavel claws at the man's gloved hand even though he knows that fighting is futile. "I should flaunt you to the whole City. An example for young men."

Pavel stops struggling and focuses on keeping his feet under him. The hand around his throat loosens enough for him to ask, "What are you doing?" It's an honest question. This man used to be his friend. That was a long time ago--or it seems like it--and Chekov now knows better than to trust him, but there's still a sting of betrayal. A glimmer of hope.

The man's only answer is to tighten his grip. Even if Pavel could ask again, he doesn't want to risk worsening the situation by doing so.

They reach a door and the man kicks it open, revealing a roof. It's a chilly night without any stars.

He hauls Pavel to the edge of the roof and looks down contemplatively. "This will do."

A cold panic grips {a and, aware that he can't fight, he resorts to begging. He hates himself for it and he's too proud to beg for his own sake, but he's not going to be able to help his unconscious friend if he's dead. "I'm sorry. I promise that I will find a way to undo everything if you let Korra and I go, please."

The man's response is to push Pavel to the very edge of the roof, his grip on the Russian's shirtfront the only thing preventing him from falling.

Pavel makes the mistake of glancing down and concludes that the ground is a lot farther away than he would like it to be. All cadets at the Academy are taught how to fall in order to minimize the chances of serious injury or death, but he doesn't want to test that training. Maybe if he's just quiet enough, compliant enough, this will be okay. They were friends. That has to count for something.

The man pulls him forward a foot or two and lets go, letting a surprised Pavel fall to the rooftop. Before relief can set in, the man grasps Pavel's head with both hands. There's another zzt, another arc of electricity, and the memory ends abruptly.

[Chekov is in the cottage's living room, red engineering uniform on, surrounded by all of the things he can't take home with him. (The important things are in a dufflebag and a backpack, and Everett is coming along, too. A genius can probably think of a way to explain the suitcase, the dog, and the decidedly non-regulation haircut, right?) He's smiling at the network device. No need to end on a teary note.]

I have been here for seven-hundred and twenty-four days. It would have been two years, as of the sixth of March. Not so long as many people, but I have outstayed most of my crew--some of them twice--and the majority of friends I made when I first arrived. Overall, I have been happy--happier, sometimes, than I am at home. But I will be glad to return. I last left home during a difficult time, and there will be many funerals and speeches to endure before our long leave, and after leave, the five-year mission. Everett will go to Petersburg to live with my father; he is lonely and will enjoy the company. I will have the chance to see the night sky from Earth. I've missed them, more since I traded my memory of them to the witches in October. Maybe the memory will return.

Mostly, I'm glad that I will keep my memories. Forgetting has been my greatest fear about leaving. Too many memories, bad and good but all important, have been made in the City to be forgotten. It will be strange since almost no one will have any of these memories, and I may find it difficult to explain some things, such as aging slightly. But memories! Those are more valuable to me than anything else I am taking with me. As long as I remember those I have met, leaving will not be so hard as it would be otherwise.

I will not go into a long discussion of memories and friends because it is too soon for nostalgia, but I want to share an old Russian saying: If all the options are bad, choose the one that hurts the least. None of us, I think, are happy to be leaving, even if we miss our homes. Personally, I'm unsure if I have made the decision that hurts the least, but it is the right one. I hope that for you, my friends and even those who are not my friends, the option that hurts the least is also the right one. Try not to be too sad. As long as we all go home with our memories, we will continue to exist in the lives of one another. Saying goodbye does not erase someone from your life.

There is one more Russian saying I want to share, and it is a happier one, I promise. Nothing is permitted and everything is possible. This is my favorite saying. The City has proven it true, and it will always prove true in our futures. Maybe we will meet again. The laws of physics may not allow it, but it is not impossible.

Also, is there anyone remaining in the City who would like a motorcycle? I have a very nice one, but it is too cumbersome to take it with me.

And finally, I would like to say goodbye to most of you in person. This is no way to say goodbye.


[Private to the Voyager Crew]

I wanted to have something clever or insightful to say to you, but all I can think of is thank you. I had forgotten what it was like to be a part of a crew until mine arrived, and when they left, you allowed me to be a part of yours. I will always be grateful for this. Thank you also for sharing some of your science with me. Captain Janeway, I promise that I will not use any advancements from beyond my time, except, perhaps, for personal use.

If I am still alive in your time and you return home--and you will return home--please say hello. That me will be very different from me, but he will like meeting new people and discussing whatever scientific advancements will be current. If I am not still alive, I hope that I died very heroically. Should that be the case, don't be sad.

Maybe interuniversal travel will be mastered in your lifetimes. If that is so, I hope to see you.


[Private to Lucy]

I know that you will not want to say goodbye in person. Please reconsider? You are my first everything and I think I will keep being too in love with you to fall in love again, so please, I would like to see you a final time.


[COMMENTS]

[Chekov knows that he shouldn't be surprised when his failed attempts to contact Captain Kirk lead him to the Hall of the Missing and, ultimately, the realization that the majority of the remaining crew of the Enterprise is no longer in the City. Disappearances frequently happen in groups. Spock, Kirk, McCoy, Uhura... most of them had come and gone before this, too. Chekov really should know better than to be surprised. Kirk might be able to bend the rules at home, but it was foolish to hope, even for a moment, that he would be capable of doing the same in the City.

It's tempting to stay off of the network and immerse himself in a project, but his crewmates were well-liked and it's only right to keep the friends they have made informed.]

Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, and Lieutenant Uhura are no longer in the City.

[Brief, formal, to-the-point. Unfortunately, one other party needs to be contacted.]


[Starfleet Comm Frequency // Unhackable]

Lieutenant Sulu and I are now the only officers of the Enterprise in the City.

[In other words: your orders, Captain Janeway?]


[COMMENTS]

Pavel Andreievich Chekov was born in Taganrog in the year 1899 to Anna and Andrei. The family relocated to Saint Petersburg (which would become Petrograd in 1914) in 1905, primarily so Andrei could look for work that would put his engineering background to use. Pavel, a bright boy and a diligent study from a very young age, was able to obtain a decent education in spite of his family's low social status.

Anna Chekov died of a heart condition in 1908. Andrei frequently worked twelve-hour days, leaving Pavel largely to his own devices. The child had full access to his father's books and devoted most of his time to supplementing his education.

In 1911, Andrei, through forged connections and a great deal of luck, managed to enroll Pavel in the Imperial Saint Petersburg Academy of Sciences after the boy impressed the Academy's leading physicist with his knowledge. Pavel remained a good student and was on track to become a professor of physics himself before he started to show an active interest in Imperial Russia's tumultuous political situation. He found himself caught up in the tumult and aligned himself with the Mensheviks, put off by the extremist Bolsheviks.

When World War I erupted in 1914, Pavel, unlike most Mensheviks, supported Russia's involvement in the war, convinced that it was the duty of the Russian people to defend their country in spite of the incompetence of its leaders. As Russian morale plummeted throughout 1915 and the war placed an even greater strain on resources available to already desperate civilians, Pavel became increasingly disinterested in his studies. The country was dying slowly and studying physics wasn't helping him save her.

Pavel enrolled in the Imperial Russian Army shortly after his sixteenth birthday. His education quickly earned him the rank of praporshchik in the engineering division. There were few benefits to being a commissioned officer; the army was suffering from the same scarcity of food and clothing as most Russian civilians. His position saved him from active combat, but not the continuing demoralization of the army as the war stretched on with no end in sight and bodies piled up along the eastern front. A sense of fatalism descended on the army and, and in 1916, Pavel was just one of a vast number of soldiers to desert the war efforts. It seemed clear that Russia wouldn't survive the current state of affairs unless change took place.

He returned to Petrograd and his father late in 1916; both Chekovs joined the discontented masses, firmly allied with the Mensheviks. Pavel quickly grew disillusioned with the riots and protests, seeing that they were accomplishing little. As 1917 rolled in, he returned to the Academy, convinced that both the war and the riots were futile. When things failed to improve with the overthrow of the Romanov dynasty, the boy gave up on politics altogether and immersed himself in physics. The world of physics, unlike everything else, was in an exciting state of change. Its horizons were limitless. Pavel threw himself into the study of atomic theory and the new and radical field of quantum physics.

***
Background aside, Chekov is still Chekov. He's still a genius, he still has some military experience, and he's still going to be sassy in the right company.

That said, this is a Pavel who has been exposed to far more human ugliness than the one the City is used to. He isn't an idealist. As much as he would like to believe in peace and equality and a society where everyone is fed and clothed, he has grown up in a world where none of that happens. The vast majority of Saint Petersburg's workers (and students) were living in poverty, especially after World War I commenced and inflation made it impossible for a laborer to afford the most basic goods. There are idealists among them, but hopelessness is far more common. This Pavel has given up on hoping that Russia will overcome it's past and present, at least within his lifetime.

He isn't more introspective or philosophical than usual, but his philosophy is fatalistic and most of his insights are disheartening. On the bright side, he's better with words than his normal counterpart. Concentrating on one language instead of trying to collect a number of them has improved his ability to convey abstract ideas with some semblance of eloquence.

[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]

ACTION;
[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]

☀ GENERAL RESEARCH REGARDING THE CITY'S STRUCTURE AND WORKINGS
Using various resources and means, including archived network posts, to better grasp how and why the City is and the means by which people come and go.
OUTLOOK: To be determined.
PROJECT HEAD: None. Anyone may participate. Significant discoveries are to be reported to superior officers.

☀ CONTROLLED SUBSPACE ANOMALY
Attempt to enlarge (or create) a subspace fracture that would allow travel to a specific universe and time without killing travelers or destroying everything in the vicinity of the anomaly.
OUTLOOK: Grim.
PROJECT HEAD: Janeway; Starfleet Laboratories.

☀ FORCE FIELD
Used in the 23rd and 24th centuries for a number of uses. Janeway has developed a means of emitting a level two force field; increasing the strength of these fields is an ongoing mission.
OUTLOOK: Positive.
PROJECT HEAD: Janeway; Starfleet Laboratories.

☀ WARP ENGINE
Would allow a ship to travel at faster than light speeds by distorting the local spacetime continuum. Also necessary: a starship to house it. While it will be a primitive ship out of necessity, it must be capable of withstanding warp speeds.
OUTLOOK: Bleak.
PROJECT HEAD: Janeway; Starfleet Laboratories.

☀ PHASERS
The production of a weapon that is based on the designs of standard-issue phasers from the twenty-third and twenty-fourth centuries and modified to function in the current world.
OUTLOOK: Complete. 

☀ CURSE ALERT
User can let preselected allies know that they are afflicted by a curse or in need of aid. A primitive, durable radio transmitter, interfaced with the network but independent of it, allows someone incapable of using his or her network device to send a simple message to network users. Currently, work is being done to make personal devices more secure as well as multifunctional.
OUTLOOK: Promising. Entering trial stages.
PROJECT HEAD: Chekov; City Solutions.

☀ NETWORK PRIVACY
User-recognition procedures are needed to begin a network recording with the intention of eliminating "accidental posts," shared memories, etc. Although it is considered complete, there is room for improvement as some posts still get through. Work is being done to tighten security and maintain the privacy of archived posts.
OUTLOOK: Working.
PROJECT HEAD: Chekov; City Solutions.

☀ PERSONAL TRACKERS
Chips inserted beneath the subject's skin in a noninvasive, painless procedure relay information to specified network devices. The subject's location and vitals would be monitored remotely. The chip would stop transmitting if the subject was pulled from the City.
OUTLOOK: Promising. Delayed by ethical concerns.
PROJECT HEAD: Chekov; City Solutions.

☀ CURSE DESIGNATION ALGORITHM
A proposed algorithm that will not only track curse trends and predict future curses, but also estimate each individual's susceptibility to a curse or strain of curses. This would rely upon artificial neural networks and the self-reports of Cityzens.
OUTLOOK: Uncertain. Securing accurate self-reports is problematic, thorough and sustained neural observation is frowned upon.
PROJECT HEAD: Chekov; City Solutions.

☀ STELLAR NAVIGATIONAL CHART
A complete chart of the City's unique "stellar" features, to be used as a means of nighttime navigation when technological alternatives are unavailable.
OUTLOOK: Hopeful, if tedious.
PROJECT HEAD: Chekov; City Solutions. 

[ooc: Feel free to tag into this entry with updates and I'll edit as necessary! Out of character comments will do.]