[Trevor's expression grows darker, angrier. He's been backed into a corner here and knows it.]
I think the Fears did the dooming.
What do you want me to say, Jon? I still think he's fucking evil.
He did good by you. But he did it because you did something he wanted first. He has the power to do amazing shit, then why doesn't he? Why does he have to get you to do his dirty work for him?
Why does it have to be you and not any of those other six billion people? Why don't they get to come here? Why does the fate of total fucking strangers have to be on your shoulders?
If you have the power to do good, and you don't do it, and you watch that many people die until Jon the Archivist can get Daniel the Mouse to promise not to torture people any longer, you're fucking evil.
And if you don't have that power, and you go home without a deal, is that it? All those lives just gone because you didn't have the extra six months to figure out Daniel's shit? There's no 'try again next time, Jon'. He won't even talk to us. No one knows why he does what he does. You'd think you'd want to Know that.
Do you actually want an answer to any of those questions, or will anything I say just be another thing for you to twist into something evil?
You've been here, Trevor. You were here when the boat crashed and whether you were here when it was getting fixed, you can ask anyone who was: it wasn't fixed by acts of evil or blood sacrifice or killing people.
It was fixed by games and remembering and healing: power requires payment, energy has to be generated before it can be used. The fact that good must be done to do good is not that difficult of a concept, that helping someone can create power.
[ It's important. Especially to him, who feeds on fear and pain and secrets. Who knows that his own power comes from ripping open the wounds of people's memories. The idea that even someone like him can do something like that-
It matters. ]
And I know I helped Elizabeth. I know the inmate I worked with, who graduated, was in a better place, was ready to do greater good, then when she got here. [ A deep sigh. ] And it had to be me because my body, my mouth, my soul, was used to open the gateway in the first place.
All that suffering came into the world through me. So if any arsehole is going to get turned into a cat or thrown at dinosaurs or surgically manipulated to have animal ears by horrific torture, it should be me. And if someone can give me a chance to make it safer, even if they can't guarantee it because they're not infallible, they're not evil. They're just not perfect.
And I hardly think anyone here would trust them if they were.
Somehow I've managed to avoid that particular psychosis despite a birthday on Christmas and dying at 33, but do go ahead and blow me off because it's inconvenient.
[ Jon won't stop him. ]
But that request is rich coming from you, Trevor. You never stop telling people what's evil, hence this whole bloody discussion.
[ And he hits the button on the elevator to go up to the second floor with just the right timing to hopefully hear the fruits of his little indiscretion before heading up. ]
[Trevor trips, catching himself on his hands as he goes down. When he looks over his shoulder, there's a real anger in his eyes that Jon might not have seen before, and seems out of place for not being hurt.
[ He knows. He's got some anger of his own, after all. And more than a little bit of hurt. He's headed back to his own cabin to curl up with his cat for a while. ]
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Re: after dinner
I think the Fears did the dooming.
What do you want me to say, Jon? I still think he's fucking evil.
He did good by you. But he did it because you did something he wanted first. He has the power to do amazing shit, then why doesn't he? Why does he have to get you to do his dirty work for him?
Why does it have to be you and not any of those other six billion people? Why don't they get to come here? Why does the fate of total fucking strangers have to be on your shoulders?
If you have the power to do good, and you don't do it, and you watch that many people die until Jon the Archivist can get Daniel the Mouse to promise not to torture people any longer, you're fucking evil.
And if you don't have that power, and you go home without a deal, is that it? All those lives just gone because you didn't have the extra six months to figure out Daniel's shit? There's no 'try again next time, Jon'. He won't even talk to us. No one knows why he does what he does. You'd think you'd want to Know that.
Re: after dinner
You've been here, Trevor. You were here when the boat crashed and whether you were here when it was getting fixed, you can ask anyone who was: it wasn't fixed by acts of evil or blood sacrifice or killing people.
It was fixed by games and remembering and healing: power requires payment, energy has to be generated before it can be used. The fact that good must be done to do good is not that difficult of a concept, that helping someone can create power.
[ It's important. Especially to him, who feeds on fear and pain and secrets. Who knows that his own power comes from ripping open the wounds of people's memories. The idea that even someone like him can do something like that-
It matters. ]
And I know I helped Elizabeth. I know the inmate I worked with, who graduated, was in a better place, was ready to do greater good, then when she got here. [ A deep sigh. ] And it had to be me because my body, my mouth, my soul, was used to open the gateway in the first place.
All that suffering came into the world through me. So if any arsehole is going to get turned into a cat or thrown at dinosaurs or surgically manipulated to have animal ears by horrific torture, it should be me. And if someone can give me a chance to make it safer, even if they can't guarantee it because they're not infallible, they're not evil. They're just not perfect.
And I hardly think anyone here would trust them if they were.
Re: after dinner
[He prods Jon in the chest, angrily]
I didn't realize you were Jesus of fucking Nazareth. All your suffering when you can just leave. It's a wonder you're not up at Mass in the mornings.
Don't tell me what evil is and isn't. You fucking piece of shit.
[The elevator doors open and he goes to leave]
no subject
Somehow I've managed to avoid that particular psychosis despite a birthday on Christmas and dying at 33, but do go ahead and blow me off because it's inconvenient.
[ Jon won't stop him. ]
But that request is rich coming from you, Trevor. You never stop telling people what's evil, hence this whole bloody discussion.
no subject
[He flips Jon off as he walks off]
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Careful not to trip on that nothing there.
[ And he hits the button on the elevator to go up to the second floor with just the right timing to hopefully hear the fruits of his little indiscretion before heading up. ]
no subject
He shakes himself off, and goes to his room]
no subject