brain_empty | test drive 1

The food is really good though.

[She didn't need her notes for that one. Tastes she'd experienced retained themselves a little better.]

...But, fine. Just a curry bread, maybe.

[ It was true that the food was exceptional, and even his garbage can palate can understand that. But the moment she actually promises to buy him something, he's all smiles again, as if nothing had ever gone wrong before in his life. ]

In that case, Okay~! Write it down! You're not getting out of this one!

Aaaaah.... Fine. Fine.

[She does reluctantly write a note of: "I bought lunch for Kokichi too! The conniver."

...The next part was harder. Keeping track of what was bought, the prices, and making sure it matched the amount of how much money she was carrying, then adding it all together before they paid.]

[ And in true fashion, Kokichi bought himself a grape Panta soda, happy that he didn't have to spend all his money to eat and get a drink today. He hoped, anyway, wondering if she'd have the money for everything or if she forgot what she had on her. ]

So... what's the deal, then? With your memory? You get kicked in the head by a horse or something and got your brains all scrambled up?

[It was easily enough. Though, she had to subtly check her notes as they sat down. She's talking to Kokichi Ouma. He's tricked her, but is acting nice, relatively. Still, he likes to like for pranks and games.]

Ah... I never told you? This isn't a gag?

[There weren't a lot of notes where she talked with people long enough to mark if they had, if only really because...]

...I don't know.

[...she had no idea.]

It'd be funny if it was that easy. They could sit me down behind the horse and make it kick me again.

[ He cracked open his soda and took a drink, waiting for her answer, leaning back in his chair. ]

Huh... And here all this time I thought you were just playing coy. I thought you just didn't want people to know or something. You really, really don't know?

[ He let a moment pass before blowing a raspberry. ]

Boooriiiiiing.

I don't think a lot would have the nerve to ask!

[In fact, she had to note that about him... the conversation was taking an interesting direction. She couldn't lose it by needing to put her notes and pen down, so her cooling curry bread sat in it's wrapping paper on the table.]

I really don't know. I don't know if I have parents, or siblings, or... anything. But, it doesn't really bother me. I don't have any frame of reference, for having those things, so it doesn't bother me.

Yeah, well, I'm not a lot of people.

[ He reached out for his own curry bread, a little less concerned with the temperature but letting it sit out for just a bit longer. ]

It doesn't? Being alone like that really doesn't bug you?

Not when I have Yasuke...

[her chest breathed a little deeper. She noticeably did not check her notes.]

He's... he's always there for me. I don't need anyone else. He won't ever get rid of me either. He needs me... he always tells me I'm too valuable to him... for his research.

Yasuke, huh?

[ He was familiar with him, at least in a tertiary sense, and Kokichi liked to keep up with the more intelligent people on campus, at the very least to keep an eye on them. The note about her being his research had him raising an eyebrow. ]

That doesn't bug you? Do you ever actually like... hang out? Date? Do you even know what his hobbies are?

Well... he's got a lot of expensive looking machines... and he likes to tell me to lie down while he puts them on my head...

Imagine these biiig suction cups. I forget I'm wearing them a lot and he has to yell at me to leave them alone.

[as opposed to any sort of irritation, Ryoko just laughed in barely restrained glee at the recounting of their sessions.]

Can't really write in my notes when that's happening so, it happens a lot.

[She finally took a bite of curry bread, careful to keep her delicate hand on the napkin. A greasy notepad would be ruin.]

Ah... I don't know why... but curry always tastes so nice.

[ Yeah, he couldn't deny the appeal of being made to feel special, especially with someone so handsome paying attention only to you. It was certainly something he struggled with in his own way, but that's for him to know and no one else to find out. When she found it appropriate to start eating, so did he, taking his time and listening to her reasoning. ]

It's a comforting feeling, isn't it? It's got everything. It's creamy, full of spices and soft vegetables, even has a little heat to it. You think you used to eat it a lot growing up?

...Huh.

I dunno... like, my long-term memory sort of works. No one has to tie my shoes for me, and I remember liking curry, but... I can't tell you why.

[Maybe there was an answer in that dense notebook? But her hands were occupied.]

It's a mystery... like who was the whitechapel murders killer?

A lot of people like curry. It's not all that weird, is it?

[ He leans back, sipping at his soda and watching her. ]

Probably some guy with enough money to get the cops to look the other way.

It doesn't feel the same with other foods. I can't explain it.

[She hears his remark and just goes 'hmm'...]

So, you'd subscribe to the "Jack the Ripper was a nobleman, or at least educated man" theory? Unlikely. All suspects you could possibly name were either sensationalized by the press at the time, had eveidence which were known forgeries, or could be proven to be nowhere near whitechapel. The closest to fulfilling that theory would be Montague John Druitt, but there's no evidence. The only circumstantial evidence was that the murders stopped around the time he committed suicide. But, many people commit suicide. And we can even identify Mr. Druitt's possible reason: he was an educator who had lost his job. That's a lot easier to believe it was coincidence, isn't it?

We'll never know for sure. The only possible clue would be the killer would have anatomical knowledge. There's a theory that he worked at a morgue, but that's just that, a theory.

Anyway, it was the 1800s. If you weren't rich or an aristocrat, no one cared who you were enough to put you in the history books. Any connection to other named persons is either built on stereotypes or outright class-ism. So, that's what we're stuck with... the real killer will just be in our imagination.

That in itself is sort of scary, isn't it?

[ Where the fuck did that come from? He raises an eyebrow listening to her. She did make a lot of good points, ones he'd considered when he'd looked at, though being an old case, it bored him enough to not really deep dive into it beyond his initial conclusions that he'd voiced. But her thoughts do make it a little more likely, at least in his mind, that he's not exactly wrong.

He denies a strong urge to talk about it more and just answers her final question with a shrug. ]

Maybe. People are capable of the worst things, and if you inflict them upon the dregs of society that people already would do without, you can almost get away with genocide. Kill enough of them and they can't even fight back.

Genocide is a very strong word. It's specifically against another ethnic group or culture. You'd have to have a unique situation for that. Like, Nazi Germany. Moreover, you'd need a concentrated effort. Government oversight, a police force to enforce it, a controlled press to conceal the reality. As well as a way to dispose of the bodies in a safe manner so that the "normal" people, the perpetrators, can continue to live. If you just toss the bodies in the river, you're going to poison what you view as the "good" people. Illness infects everyone equally.

Now... if this was true anarchy where everyone was just bashing each other's heads open for some reason, you wouldn't need any of that.

Edited 2023-08-19 04:51 (UTC)

You don't think poor people have a certain culture that can be stomped on? That the poor of this or any country don't have a kinship with one another? Hm. Interesting.

[ He pauses to take a bite from his curry bun. ]

"Normal" people are trained from birth to look the other way on abuses like that, you know. We're practically trained on it. People die in jail? Oh well! Incinerate them and no one can tell. Find the next-of-kin, send them the ashes and who cares? Not their problem anymore. I mean, who's gonna hold them accountable? The police? [ He snorts. ] Yeah right.

[ Not that Kokichi is a gangster or a true actual hoodlum, but he's had his fair share of encounters with the police and assorted law authorities. He thinks very little of them. ]

There's a difference between police accountability and anarchy, you know.

Hm... they might in actuality. But, not so in perception. What we consider 'poor' could be a great lifestyle of relative luxury to another culture. That or there are separations such as what people consider 'normal'. Barriers. Culture. Language. Our very mannerisms we learn from birth.

[she takes a bite of hers, too. Not even because she particularly wants to at that moment, but because she saw him do it. But soon, she's wrapped up in the flavor, so much... it distracts her.]

...

[Then, she's sitting looking at him and has no idea who he is. Why they're sitting together, or even who she is. What was this situation...? It was unease... was he expecting her to say something?]

Edited 2023-08-19 05:07 (UTC)

Pfft. You can't seriously believe that. Sure, the lower class has their own culture, but you seriously think that the upper classes aren't eager to stomp them down into the dirt and remind the dandelions that remain of their place? Come on. Don't be stupid.

[ And then he sees her expression blank out. Goddammit. Again? He sighs and takes another bite of his bun, reaching over to tap at her notebook. Well, so much for an engaging conversation for once. ]

[He... seemed angry about something. Was he angry at her? She didn't feel like she'd done something wrong.

She watches him tap her notebook at then the memory came back. That was her notebook. It had her memories in it. Ah, but her hands were greasy... oh well. Why waste good curry bread?

She chomped what was left of hers in her mouth and quickly started scraping grease off of her fingers, until she felt comfortable enough to pick it up and thumb through the pages. Kokichi Ouma. Eating lunch with. Both had curry bread.]

Sowwy, Kokeechee. [She hastily tried to swallow the last of the curry bread, before letting out a sigh when her airways were cleared.] What were you saying? I... couldn't write after we started eating.

[She pieced that together, at least.]

[ Well, it's not like he really has any plans to be anywhere, but his patience is regularly paper thin as it is. Her cutesy tone makes him roll his eyes. ]

Nothing. It doesn't matter. You were complaining about how you were sure the curry bun was gonna go straight to your ass but I told you it wouldn't. You're too tall.

[She nods and writes it down. "Worried about gaining weight from the curry buns. What if the fat went to my ass?"]

Would that make me ugly?

Maybe to some people. Those people suck though. Eat the bun, drink the soda. I think people are coming around to girls with big butts though, so do what you want, if you're asking me.

[she frowns, then scrolls back in her notes: try to avoid curry unless it's a special day.]

...Hm. Was this a special day for me? It says I should avoid it unless it's a special day. . .

[She blinks, she blinks again, then rustles through.]

Oh, this was a special day.

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