Scott and Betsy, Saturday night

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Scott finds Betsy in the observation booth of the Danger Room, wrestling with a program. He offers her a little helpful assistance, and they actually manage to have a civil conversation.


Hunched over the main console of the Observation Deck, Betsy rubbed her hand tiredly over her face. The holographic scenario playing below her in the Danger Room had three forms lying wounded on the floor. Four assailants standing over them. She slammed the end program button and the bodies disappeared and the room below went dark. "Another round of smash and bang, Bets." She sighed, sitting back in her seat. "Until I get it right."

She straightened back up in her seat and began entering a new scenario into the program. "Or it kills me."

"You're beginning to sound like me, Betsy," Scott said from the doorway behind her. He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. "That's not such a good thing," he said with a certain amount of amusement. "Better watch out for drugged coffee."

"I'm more of a tea drinker, myself." Betsy said with a laugh. "But, I wouldn't go 'round the Professor's stock for all his coaxing of 'a simple talk'." She mimicked the Professor's accent with startling accuracy. She looked over to Scott and then back at the console. The other scenario looked equally as bleak. Angrily swiping her hand down onto the control panel, Betsy growled in irritation.

"I'm waiting," Scott said with a soft chuckle, coming in. The door whisked shut behind him. "For the 'Now I know why you're a grouch, Scott' comments."

"Is that your way of saying, 'I told you so?" Betsy sniped, before deflating. She looked over at him and smiled somewhat sadly. "It still doesn't give you the right to be a git, you know."

"Oh, it's just one of many reasons why I'm crankier than I should be," Scott said, sitting down in the other chair. "And really, Betsy, those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, you know?" He gave her a brief smile to take the edge off the words.

"But, I'm British. It's inbred. " Betsy said, turning toward him, her smile warming up to him. "You've simply made it into a lifestyle. Actually, I'm starting to garner as to why that is."

"Oh?" Scott asked lightly. "Share? I'm on this self-improvement kick, after all..."

"Let's not!" Betsy said, laughing at the idea. "I like the fact that we're actually talking civilly. And besides, I have to work on these programs. It's all I've been doing for the better part of this month."

"Scenario-heavy, huh?" Scott grimaced thoughtfully. "For the intel group. That surprises me."

"Why is that?" Betsy asked, running her hands across the board. Perhaps she'd try a two-on-two with Jake and Remy. But Jake didn't work too well in hand-to-hand combat. Her brain was running at a few hundred knots and yet she felt she was still going in circles. "Things will get harried. We need to prepare for every possibility."

Scott shrugged a little. "Remy didn't seem too enamored of the idea of Danger Room scenarios the last time the subject came up," he said, thinking about his comments during the analysis of Lorna and Nathan's less-than-successful run. "Although I suppose it was the freeform nature of the one I threw at Nate and Lorna, as much as anything else."

"Odd," Betsy said thoughtfully. "He was the one who suggested I help build the Sits. I can't be too sure why he'd make a point to oppose the Danger Room format since it's the closest one can get to combat, without losing an eye. I do believe he's opposed more to the 'canned' quality that it possess, but it can't be helped." Betsy rolled her shoulders a few times before her right hand went to her shoulder. She massaged the protesting muscle and looked at Scott with a woeful expression. "It's simply been some time since I've formed my own programs from the beginning. It's like riding a bicycle, right? Or some other colorful American phrase. Any way, I don't remember it feeling this stiff after a few hours of work."

"Eh, in the end, everyone succumbs to the shiny toys," Scott said a bit flippantly. He didn't particularly want to pretend to try and read Remy's mind. "And you may be overdoing it. Or at least overthinking, I mean. Are you building from the bottom up or the top down? Backwards or forwards?" He raised a hand before she could answer. "Being serious here, Betsy, really. Do you have a result in mind, or a starting point in mind?"

"Oh, you're no fun," she said mockingly. Straightening up in her seat, her hand began flying across the screen, as she spoke. "I've built a basic schematic, taking in all of Jake's, Remy's, and my attributes and with that built some basic encounter scenarios, to see how best we can incorporate our abilities into practical applications. But that's not where the problems lie." The Danger Room came to life below them. The scene below them was a smokey bar, similar to Harry's. Scott could see Remy sitting at the bar, Betsy sitting at a booth in the back, and Jake scouring the room as his female counterpart. "It's more of the psychological aspects that are proving a bit harrowing. I think I've built the basic parameters a little too well. I have quite a bit of experience in groups, but I don't play well with others. Not entirely." She gave Scott a sidelong glance. "But both Remy and Jake work best as single cell operatives."

"And you're trying to program the three of you as a team," Scott said, "and running into roadblocks. What sort of situations are you considering?"

"I was trying to start off with some minor sequences. Mostly cloak and dagger tactics." Betsy said, nonchalantly. "The minor league bits seem to go off without a hitch. But, it's the complex plans where I've been running into problems. Mostly, the issues arise when we have to resort to improvising. And unfortunately, things rarely go as planned in the spy business. Perhaps, once I get Remy and Jake into the Danger Room, I can see it for myself....."

"Who's calling the shots when you improvise?" Scott raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. "I'm wondering how much of your personalities you've programmed into the sims. Improvisation works, but in a group situation, you can't have the different members of the group going off improvising in different directions..."

"Don't give me that look, Summers." Betsy ran her hands through her hair. "It's not my fault I'm so outspoken." She started laughing at the look he was now giving her. "Seriously, I'm not that bad and you know it. I'm probably being the paranoid one now. It can't possibly turn out that bad. We can all handle ourselves, I'm sure of that. Probably shouldn't even concern myself with the possibility of things going wrong." Fool's talk, she knew. But, watching the scenarios was taking the fight out of her.

Scott grimaced again, remembering... "Getting too far into them will do that to you," he said more quietly. "A good portion of the mess I was in back in the fall had to do with me driving myself insane with those no-win scenarios. The scenarios are consensual reality, for the purposes of training - which means you need a certain suspension of disbelief, but you can't let them get too much of a foothold on your thinking."

"I remember," Betsy said, tiredly, thinking on that time with a sad fondness. "Suspension of disbelief. Right." Betsy gave Scott a weak smile, her hand falling from her shoulder. "It'd be easier if I promised not to fall too deep into the hole before having a breakdown."

"Look, why don't we go down there?" Scott suggested. "I've got the beginnings of a rudimentary holo-interface set up that I've been testing - we can tweak the program from down on the floor."

"Seriously?" Betsy questioned, curiously. "Considering everything...."

"'Everything'?" Scott asked patiently. "You know, you never asked, but I don't actually consider you... shifting focus as some kind of personal betrayal or anything self-centered and dumb like that. I told Madelyn that if you found something... fulfilling, I was happy for you. Wherever you found it. And I meant that." He rose, gazing down at her a bit wryly. "That's not to say I was too terribly impressed by you baiting me about your reasons for working with Remy when you let me know what you'd decided... but let's not revisit the whole gloryhound issue, all right? Shall we head down and see what we can do?"

"Yes, let's." Betsy stood up, her eyes flicking to him, before sharing that same wry expression. "You can't possibly call that baiting. Friendly banter between two friends, yes. But I don't recall dangling anything in front of you to snip, at least." She headed over to the main door, leading to the Danger Room entrance. "I think you're simply getting cranky in your old age."

"I'm a little sensitive on the issue of the X-Men doing things in the open and getting credit for it," Scott murmured, leading the way down to the Danger Room floor. "Because we did that, Betsy. We did something completely in the open, or at least with the full knowledge of the government, and did it well... and it hurt like hell." He glanced sideways at her, somberly. "We waded through bodies and brought back three of our own on stretchers. I still dream about the precog who decided to step in front of an energy blast that would have killed me." Scott shrugged, his expression bleak as they reached the Danger Room doors. "You think that because the special forces colonel in charge of the government troops that day patted me on the shoulder and told me 'good job' that it made any of it easier?"

"No, I care to think I know you well enough to understand how you feel." Betsy said in a hushed tone. "And where your thoughts are at the moment."

He looked up at her with a very faint smile. "You're doing better than I am these days, then," he admitted. "I'm not sure I know how I feel half the time." The doors slid open and he stepped in, turning his attention to the console just inside the door. "This interface is still pretty rough," he told her more briskly. "Can't do the fine-tuning yet, but at least it lets us work from down here." A holographic square, like a transparent console, took shape in the air in front of them.

She shrugged. "If I remember correctly, I had some help along the way. But, I can relate to what you're going through." Her hand hovered over the console, as she spoke, accessing one of the more intricate programs. "We've both seen the rough ends for a bit longer than I'd care to think about."

Scott watched her manipulate the holo-console. He'd made it close enough in form to the one in the control booth to make it an obvious relative, but he'd been trying to come up with something more simplified, more intuitive. "I suspect," he said, looking around at the frozen scenario, "the problem is that you're overprogramming. Not enough random elements." He smiled a little. "You remember how often I do go for the freeform scenario - give the players only part of the objectives, or the wrong objectives entirely, and see how they do."

"And that is why you're a sadist, Scott," Betsy said, turning back to him a moment before finally accessing the right program and loading it to the main system. She sidled closer to him, as the room shifted. The disorienting nature of the forming environment always managed to jar her. The loud shoosh of air before the room shimmered into existence, the deep inhale of breath, before imitated life came to be. Blank, two-dimensional vessels staring through them, with their equally vacant expressions. But she shrugged off the feeling, as the noise of the room brought her out of her reverie. "Here we go."

Scott watched thoughtfully as the scenario started. Very obviously a meet-gone-wrong set-up, he reflected, watching quiet conversation at a table flare suddenly into violence. "Freeze scenario," he ordered the Danger Room after another minute or two, then glanced sideways at Betsy. "Why didn't the holo-you pick up on what was going to happen before your contact stabbed Jake?"

Betsy blinked at him. "I'm not sure what you mean." Betsy moved closer to the holo-version of herself, standing awe-struck at the scene unfolding. "That doesn't make sense. I'm sure there's a viable reason for this."

"She's gaping like a teenager in the middle of her first bar fight," Scott said wryly. "That's so very much not you, Betsy."

"I loaded the specs myself." She went over to the holo-console and recalled her entire file, her eyes scrutinizing everything that went across the screen. The faint glow of the console, reflecting in her purple irises. "How come I didn't notice this?" Betsy muttered incredously under her breath.

"Too many set elements. They've combined in a random way and the sim's behaving unpredictably. Tell me," Scott said thoughtfully, "did you load her up with more than, say, half a dozen different behavioral imperatives that would have bearing on her reaction to the meeting going south here?"

"Try fifteen distinct personality schemas," she groaned inwardly, thinking of how she probably flooded the system. "But, I thought by inputing every possible personality aspect to each scenario, I'd be able to get a realistic slant to the holo-projections." Shaking her head, as she kept her gaze on the panel, removing the excess data from the file. "I honestly thought that the computer would also process mission logs and simulated missions to gauge a more realistic holo-counterpart......"

"It's a computer, Betsy," Scott pointed out. "It's a smart computer, but it's limited. And really, if you have more than half a dozen different potential factors bearing on a reaction... well, think for a minute, about how you do react in a crisis. Is all of that really at work?"

"Well, to be truthful, I'm not sure." She walked over to her counterpart. "It's mostly instinct and intuition. And I don't think I can incorporate that into a program."

"You're hit one of the metaphorical walls," Scott said. "Sims are more valuable the more complex the tactical situation you're trying to model, really. When there are enough external factors, the fact that you can't model intuition or instinct except by programming a random element as a rough approximation becomes less important."

Betsy huched down next to her counterpart, tucking her hair lovingly under her ear. She looked up at Scott as he watched her. She stood up self-consciously from her counterpart's still form and clapped her hands together. "So, what then do you suggest?

"I'm not sure that this is something you can simulate effectively," Scott said a bit regretfully. "A scenario might work better than the sim, though. That's entirely possible. I've found that with a number of my ideas in the past."

"Well, I trust you know more about this system, considering the amount of hours you've logged in here. So, what scenario would you suggest?" Betsy asked.

He blinked and chuckled. "The same thing, Betsy. Just with the three of you, rather than your holoselves. Simplify the programming on your contact-turned-knife-wielding-maniac there, too, and don't tell Remy and Jake what's in store when they get in here." He spread his hands. "Surprise is one of the big training tools with the Danger Room. And when they learn to expect the surprise, then you turn around and disappoint them. Having them chasing their tails is really the only way to introduce consistent uncertainty into the process." He laughed suddenly. "And when I bring that up is usually when Nathan drops the argument, when we're having it. It's my trump card."

"You mean actually bring them in here?" Betsy's eyes went wide, her voice noticeably going up an octave. "But, I haven't finished detailing all the scenarios. Going through each block and checking for programming glitches. Holo-counterparts or not, I'm not ready. I need another good week before I can get everything to spec." The shocked expression on her face gave her the look of sheer panic, but she reigned in the feeling to hyperventilate. Everything needed to be perfect, so she could prove....... No. She shook her head. More time. She needed more time.

"Betsy." He was not going to smile. Really. Wasn't. "Are you really that worried about what Remy and Jake are going to say if the scenarios aren't 100% perfect? Just, you know, ignore Remy and wave cookies at Jake, if you heard any complaints starting." Not going to laugh. Really.

"It's not funny," Betsy replied petulantly, her arms folding defensively across her chest. "Jake and Remy have already established their unit and....." She paused for a moment, thinking of whether she should continue.

Scott folded his arms right back at her. "So," he said, quietly but with a certain challenge in his voice, "you're stressing out over doing the work to make a place for yourself with them?"

"Mostly." Betsy said, visibly calmed. Stubbornly, her head remained tilted downward, as she spoke, looking at Scott through her dark hair. "And a part of me hopes I don't bugger it all up again."

"Don't let..." Scott paused, sighed, "what happened get in the way of what you're doing now. That wasn't all you by any stretch of the imagination, although I know that's not much consolation looking back on it."

"I know that now," Betsy said, exhaling. "But it doesn't make things easier to swallow, either." She pushed her hair back from her face, putting on a brave face and slowly working in her cool exterior. "We make the conscious effort to affect change to the things we can control, but are still helplessly swayed by the whims of fate."

"I don't believe in helplessness," Scott said, and then smiled sardonically. "Oh, will you listen to me. I think my inner optimist is clinging to life. Pardon me while I go beat him to death."

"It's not helplessness, per se." Betsy corrected herself. "But I do believe there are outside forces that manipulate the board for whatever purposes. Call it what you will, mysticism, spirituality, or religion?" She let out a rich throaty laugh. "But I'm glad to see that you haven't beaten out all hope from yourself just yet."

"I tried," Scott said, a bit more seriously than he'd really intended. "Didn't take." He looked around at the frozen scenario. "Let me give this a try, too? Before you dump the idea of a sim completely. Then you can compare the versions."

"I know," Betsy said with all sincerity, a grim smile upon her face. She took a quick inhale of breath and moved to her left. "Alright," she said willingly. Her arms went up and motioned for Scott to take a crack at it. "So you know, if you 'accidentally' lose this program....I may have to hurt you."

Scott snorted and stepped forward, manipulating the interface a great deal more quickly than Betsy had. Alter the fundamentals and see how it shifts, he thought, variables spinning through his head. He had spent so much of his time doing just this that it was almost second nature. "There," he said, a short few minutes later, and cued the scenario to begin again. "Let's see how this works."

The difference was obvious. The holo-Betsy moved before the contact yanked out his knife, and it was the other man who went face-down on the table before he could get anywhere near Jake.

"I like this version much better than the other one," Betsy said with an energetic clap of her hands and a playful shove. "Let me never say that all that time you spent in here was not worth something." Some of the tension in her shoulders loosened. The realization slowly sank in that in her hope to plan for every contingency she had over-planned in the process. But now, she was miles closer than she was earlier this evening. She looked over to Scott, relief welling on her countenance. "You have no idea how much work you've saved me. It might've taken days for me to figure out where the problem was. Thank you."

Scott just nodded, smiling a little. "You're welcome. Aren't you going to ask me what I changed?" he teased lightly.

"Actually," Betsy said, with a wicked grin. "I was going to ask you to go over a few more scenarios first. One has to be thorough in these matters. And besides, who's to say what I did wrong here will apply to the other programs. You didn't have plans this evening, did you?"

"Just more paperwork of my own," Scott said with a chuckle. "It'll still be there later."

"Then let's get to it," Betsy said with some enthusiam. "They'll be no sleep for deviant programmers tonight."