poeticterms | (no subject)

"Sufficiently advanced technology, duh."

You kind of walked right into that one, Auggie.

He snorts.

"Right, sorry, of course."

"Thank God I've got Sherry and Jarvis to research materials for me, though. Spending a couple days bingeing on fairy tales is not my idea of a good time."

Ding.

"And out we go."

"So your sufficiently advanced technology," Auggie says, following Tony out of the elevator into an open space full of hard surfaces, "is, in fact, something out of the Brothers Grimm?"

"Nnnnnnoyesmaybe? No," he decides. "Like. I get the ideas for what to build it out of from all that, but not the idea for how to build it. And it's not magic the same way a lightning rod is not made of lightning."

"Huh. Got it, I guess."

"So, this is my workshop. It has a really impressive holographic interface that is totally meaningless to you. The sound quality's probably worse than that home theatre back on the ground floor, although you know, lots of things are worse than that setup without actually being bad. You can check out my cars if you promise to be gentle," he says generously.

He laughs, sweeping his cane around to gauge the immediate layout.

"I'm jealous of your holographic interface on principle, though. I do remember being sighted. Also what exactly do you expect me to do with your cars?"

"When I invent tactile holograms, me and Jarvis will show off all the cool shit this place can do and it will be awesome. And I have no idea what you might want to do with my cars, and wow this line of conversation is turning out amazingly filthy."

"On which note, I'm going to let go of you now," Auggie deadpans, and does so. "Let me know if I'm about to break anything."

...Tony may have difficulty letting anyone know anything while he is giggling like that.

But Jarvis has no such impediment.

"Of course," he promises.

Grinning: "Thanks, Jarvis."

He heads for what seems to be the nearest table.

"I ought to warn you ahead of time that all the tables are glass. They are also all the same height, so if you keep your hand just there you will never run into one."

Just as he finishes saying it, Auggie's fingers touch a cool, smooth surface.

He halts.

"Good to know."

He keeps his touch very light as he runs his fingers over the tabletop.

There is very little clutter within reach. A stack of papers by the near corner with, if Auggie investigates that far, an embossed logo. Another stack of messily folded blueprints—finer paper, larger sheets, no variance in texture.

He riffles the stack of papers absently.

"Car specs?"

"Nope. You found the laser targeting."

"Hey," he waves the cane, "a subject near and dear to my heart."

He keeps one hand on the table to guide himself around it.

Dryly: "Has Tony asked if he can take that apart yet?"

There are a few more objects scattered along the table, half-assembled shapes of metal and plastic trailing carefully capped wires. Nobody warns Auggie away from them, so presumably they are safe to touch.

Cheerfully enough: "He's been drooling over it."

It would take very sharp eyes -- or cameras -- to notice the way Auggie shifts his grip on the cane's handle. Without a white cane for backup, he's reliant on the laser cane for any semblance of normal mobility. Giving it to someone to take apart is not an entirely attractive prospect. Not to mention the dubious wisdom in letting a civilian mess around with CIA tech.

The shapes on the table are interesting, but not particularly comprehensible to him at the moment.

"You need it more than I do," he says reasonably. "I could totally make you a better one, though; I can already think of a way to make it see glass properly."

Auggie pauses, cocking his head.

"Now that would be a godsend."

"But I don't know how the interface works, which is kind of an important part, y'know?"

He hesitates another moment, then leans one hip against the table and holds up the cane.

"Want to play with it a little? Not take it apart, just use it."