The X-Project

Artie dropped the papers on his desk with a nearly audible snarl, shuffling them into a rough pile that he bundled into a manilla folder.

He'd been avoiding it all day but he'd still chosen to work from the mansion, rather than office at Snow Valley, knowing that some things were inevitable. In this case, the information he'd needed just wasn't there. They'd all known that.

The box of papers had come with three old VCR tapes - Christmas 94, scrawled in red over a label that originally read 'Supperbowl 93', SNL for Sarah and Sarah's Birthday.

He was going to have to watch the damn tapes. It was a good thing no one ever threw anything away here, because first, he was going to have to find a VCR in the attic. He shoved his chair back and got to his feet, irritable and resentful.

If Gaia could be described as an animal, an apt comparison would be a corvid of sorts. She had taken to collecting shiny little treasures in an empty pasta sauce jar. Coins and buttons and paper clips and earrings. This sat beside her as she leisurely combed through a box in the attic, searching for something to pique her interest. No one had told her she couldn’t, so it was assumed that the tucked away storage was free rein for a scavenger such as herself.

Artie stumped his way up the stairs, still irritated and still resentful. The attic had windows, even in the storage areas, but was dim enough that the overhead lights were needed and had been installed at some point about 20 years ago. He hit the switch, sending several slightly dazzling banks of fluorescents on in one go.

The girl flinched at the light and lifted a hand to shield her eyes, what could have been a hiss erupting from her throat. She looked over to the entrance and levelled a glare at the intruder. “Go away.”

Artie resisted the urge to hiss back, because he was an adult and shook his head in a clear no, before picking his way through the boxes and bags, most of which seemed to have 'Nathan' scrawled on the side. Idly, he wondered if he should go through them some day, see what fresh frakenberrycat horrors had been rotting up here for nearly a decade. "Sorry, can't. Looking for a VCR," he replied, floating the text over to the girl.

Gaia’s scowl lessened slightly, now preoccupied with the floating phenomenon. She lifted an old shoe from her current box and tossed it in their direction, watching as sailed through the letters and narrowly missed Artie’s head. It landed on a bag with a crunch.

Artie ducked anyway, leaning out of the way of the shoe, before picking it up and throwing it back in an easy, overhand arc. "Please put that away again."

The shoe stopped just before the girl’s head, suspended tediously by a grey energy, before dropping to the ground. The scowl returned as she shoved it back in the box unceremoniously.

Picking up her jar, Gaia hugged it to her chest as she turned her full attention on the stranger. “You do not speak.” It was a statement, not a question.

Over the years, Artie had heard every variation of that observation. His tolerance for it was already low, before people threw completely unprovoked shoes at his head. Near his head. He noted the jar, and its presumed importance to the girl. "No, I don't." He let the text float in the air before licking the dust out of his eyes just for shits and giggles.

Her gaze twitched a few degrees towards fascinated. “Most in this world speak much with little to say. It is not a bad trait to have.” She shifted back onto her heels. This seemed her olive branch. “You can only do letters?”

The nonchalance impressed him more than the attempt at politeness. Most people didn't react as calmly to physical mutations. Whatever else was going on, the kid was alright. Artie shook his head. "No, images too." He demonstrated, showing a bunch of flowers over her side of the room.

“Hm.” It was… pretty. Carefully, Gaia set down her jar and stood, brushing invisible dust from her shirt. “What do you seek? I may be of assistance?”

He showed her an image of a VCR. "This. Have you seen something like that up here?"

She nodded. Hopping daintily between boxes, she arrived at one towards the back.

There had been a particularly interesting collection of screws at the bottom of it that she had claimed for herself. Motioning for Artie to follow, she said, “Here. I believe this is the same?” The black contraption was rather dusty, but matched the projected image nonetheless.

The bottom was dangling from a wire. So help him, if it didn't work... "Thank you." Artie took it, flipping it over to try and see if was truly broken or just disassembled. He showed her an image of it broken in half with a question mark.

A shrug. Her helpfulness had limits.

Fair enough. Artie nodded to her and replied in images: fingers crossed emoji and a plugged in, working VCR, as he began to back out of the attic.

Gaia watched a moment before settling back down at her previous box, content to continue her treasure hunt.