[It takes a moment, but when Marco remembers precisely what Norman is talking about, his face... relaxes. Though his smile is no longer quite so pronounced, something about it seems more natural, too.]
Not as glad as you are, I'd imagine. Would you like to sit down?
[Never mind Marco being tired. He promised to listen, so he will.]
[It's... funny. It isn't the first time in the last few months that somebody has confided in Marco about this same thing. Maybe that's why - after some hesitation and some darting glances at nowhere in particular - it's getting easier to say...]
You too, huh?
[A moment passes, and it occurs to him that he might want to be more specific, given the context; he clasps his hands tightly together.]
I-- That is, even putting the network aside, I... [A sigh.] I'm... familiar with that, too.
[in that moment, Norman's ability to hold a poker face is nonexistent - he'd been focused on holding it together in other ways. so when Marco commiserates, his eyes widen]
You - wait, you are?! I - that's -
[a tiny scoff of disbelief slips between his lips, and he reaches up to run a thumb over his bottom lip. this changes so many things about how he had meant to proceed with the conversation]
Did you hear ... something else? Or was it ... some part of yourself?
[Marco opens his mouth, though he's speechless for a moment longer. That's not the question he was expecting to hear, and... well, it calls into question what Dr. Osborn has experienced himself.
One thing at a time, though. As difficult as it is for him to talk about this, he knows he can't pry too quickly.]
... Well, fundamentally, I'm not sure if there's a difference between the two. [His expression is wry, but calling it a smile would be pushing it.] No matter how convincing the... the voices may be, they're still my own creation.
[That's important for him to remember, actually. The people he thinks he hears... They're not really there. It's ALL him.]
cw con't. Hollywood DID discussion in this thread. also, sorry for the wait! <3
[the Goblin was so much more than just a voice, but this is a jumping off point. Norman breathes as he arranges his words in his mind, fingers fumbling at the arms of his chair, smoothing his pant leg, searching for anything to occupy himself]
What happened to me - it wasn't just a voice, but ... that was part of it. A terrible side effect of the test phase of a project that went horribly wrong.
[thinking of it as the scientific endeavor it originally was makes it a little easier to talk about. Norman swallows]
My company was commissioned by the government to create a chemical which would make their soldiers stronger, faster, give them heightened senses. And it all worked on paper - perfectly, right down to the last molecule. I made sure of it myself: so many sleepless nights in the lab or at my desk ... but when we were at the animal testing phase, they rushed us. Said we needed to have a viable product ready within two weeks, or they'd pass on our contract to our biggest competitor.
[he remembers that stomach-turning moment, when General Slocum had all but dressed him down in front of his entire production staff, and his partner had failed to have his back. it had felt like being punched in the gut and then kicked from behind. and he'd thought that had been the worst thing he could feel...]
Desperation stole my common sense ... I know that now. But back then, all I could feel was the panic, the fear of losing my entire life's work, the legacy I'd built from the ground up so that I'd be able to give my son a good life. A ... a better one than I'd had. I made my partner meet me in the laboratory after hours, so I could run the first test on myself.
[The first thing that occurs to Marco, as Norman starts to tell the story, is that it sounds like the stuff of Hollywood films or comic books. Having lived in a place like Ryslig for years does nothing to lessen this, the acute sensation that so many of the people here seem to have come from worlds beyond his imagination.
The way that the story continues does little to help, either. In speculative fiction, when someone is driven to something like a live test on themselves... There are only a few ways that tends to go.]
[listen, man, you can't choose your world, okay? at least he's not Actually From The Comic Books. then you'd have to deal with the electric frogs]
The chemical was delivered via vapor in an isolation chamber... once it filled up the space, I - I remember hyperventilating. Feeling my pulse start to rocket. Then - I must have blacked out. When I came to, I was at home, lying on my floor. It took me a couple of weeks to really piece together what happened that night. What I'd done to myself.
[he looks down at his hands]
The serum made me stronger, yes - in that respect it performed exactly as it was supposed to. But the side effect I didn't see was that it also inflicted mental trauma on a level high enough to kickstart a second personality. One that catered to the parts of myself I kept buried, the darker impulses, repressed anger, that sort of thing. My own personal Edward Hyde, if you're familiar.
[Of course it went horribly wrong - Norman implied as much to begin with, and it's hard to imagine it going any other way. The specific manner in which it went wrong, though...]
I... can see how that would lead to problems. On several levels.
[Marco gulps. That's what he meant by "a part of himself" - something more literal than what Marco hears...]
[the shame and remorse on his face are writ so large that they may as well be a billboard. he's not proud of this, or any of what's about to follow.]
I started having incidents where I would black out. Not often. One about a week after... then another a month or so after that ... my company was losing the contractor's confidence. Our competitor suffered sabotage and losses ... which I now realize I was the cause of. At the time, I had no clue. Quest Aerospace - that was the other company - reached out to the Oscorp board of directors and negotiated a sale. Of my company to theirs. They told me at the board meeting... and demanded my resignation. I was furious ... but I went home to lick my wounds.
[he shakes his head, glancing around the office, using whatever decor Marco has chosen as a distraction so he won't have to find any more memories floating up. enough have found him in nightmares since arriving in Ryslig: tattered helium balloons, the whine of hydraulics, a body being reduced to ash and bone in a chemical blast]
I blacked out a few days later and woke to find an article in the newspaper: my board had been killed by an unknown assailant wearing equipment stolen from our R&D. ... That was the first time I actually heard his voice. Spoke to him...
[he hesitates. he doesn't want to speak the name here, in case it's true names really do have power]
[It's even worse than he imagined, even though his imagination was already on the right track. He doesn't stop Norman, but the way his expression only grows more troubled as he hears more details says enough.
However, there is one thing Marco can't contain his curiosity about.]
Is that what... he called himself? Or did you name him? Er-- Sorry, this might not be... You don't have to say.
[Norman replies so quickly that he's almost cutting Marco off, one hand coming up in a dismissive gesture]
No, no, it's fine. I came here to talk to be honest with you, and talk about it. It wouldn't be fair of me to not answer your questions. The newspapers coined the name: "The Green Goblin", because of the color of the armor and the shape of the helmet. I think he liked it? ... But I'm not sure. It's either that or he just didn't care.
[he hasn't fully made the connection between the deep-buried memory that inspired the armor's design in the first place, not yet]
Oh lord, it was on the newspapers, [he mutters, going pale. Norman said it just a moment ago, yes, but it only sets in now.] Of course-- Of course it was.
[That's only one more reason why Marco can't go home now. People would know. People would talk about it.]
I-I... Well...
[Where does he go from here? He's not sure. He didn't think the conversation would go to-- to split personalities.]
I did, thank God. Someone - a friend of my son's, actually, a brilliant young man - figured it out and created an anti-serum that reversed the formula's effects. I hadn't been cured for maybe more than five minutes, when I woke up in Haftesal. I'm ... still putting a lot of pieces together.
[he pauses, still trying to figure out how best to word why he wanted Marco to know this]
The Fog. She turns us into .... monsters. And I don't think that will have anything to do with Him, but ... at the same time, I'm hearing all these wild stories of things people are made to do, things they become without their permission ... and I can't help but think that it might not be over.
[his face crumples]
Oh, Marco, I want it to be over. But the people I'm becoming close to here - you all need to know. In case.
[Five minutes... Literal or not, that sounds frighteningly fast. Norman didn't even get to catch his breath before he showed up here, did he?
Marco continues to listen... and, in the end, he nods. Even though he couldn't imagine what Norman would be confessing to when he approached him today, he thinks he understands.]
It's... [He sighs.] I won't lie to you, the stress alone can make things... difficult. At least for me. But - [A faint, but reassuring smile.] You have your head in the right place right now. I think that's a good sign.
Thank you. ... Not just for that, but ... for listening. For not judging me for all of this ... I know it must have been difficult to hear, since, well.
[he tries for a self-deprecating smile, but doesn't quite get there. it's more of a grimace]
I don't know what you might've been expecting, but ... it probably wasn't all that. I hope I haven't ... put you off for the rest of the day.
[He attempts a smile of his own. He's going for "reassuring", but something about it is just a little too sad to hit the mark.]
Like I said, I know what it's like to... Well, I-- I obviously haven't gone through the same thing. But that doesn't mean...
[Marco stops himself mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. Though he means it in a purely self-deprecating objective sense, he realises "That doesn't mean I'm any better than you" may not quite get the right idea across.]
... I'd be a hypocrite if I judged you. That's what I'm trying to say.
[thankfully, he isn't bothered by the sadness: he knows people's options once they've heard his story are going to invariably be pity, anger, or fear. he nods a little, the smile becoming just that little bit more genuine]
Now you understand why I was so afraid of how open my mind was to all of that ... I want people to learn about it when and how I decide, not ... because I can't help seeing so much of this place through that lens. Of ... of what he would think of it all. What he'd do.
Anyone would be afraid, I think. But I do understand. I...
[He sighs. Even here and now, this is difficult for him to talk about.]
When I gained the ability to use the network like that, I don't think I... knew yet, that there was something wrong with me. Not exactly, not... fully. But I was still terrified. I felt so exposed, and... and it felt like anything I did to try and regain control over what I was putting out there just made it worse.
[he says it with a knowing glance, even if he's a little embarrassed to admit it. after telling someone about the Goblin, how could anything else be worse?]
D'you get that thing where - you start to get nervous, then you get annoyed that you're nervous, so you try to shut it down, but it just gets worse, and becomes this awful cycle?
[The expression on Marco's face could be described as a "wry smile," though some might call the "smile" part into question. He spirals, yes, but nervous feels like an understatement. It's more as if...
Again, he takes a deep breath.]
I think about things. I... connect dots. But sometimes, dots aren't supposed to be-- Sometimes, there aren't even any dots. Not really. So I catch myself doing it, and I stop. But then I wonder... If... the dots aren't really there, why can I see them so clearly? How can I ignore them? Sometimes I just have to connect them and pretend I don't see the line. Sometimes I-- I get... stuck, drawing lines and erasing them and drawing them again because I'm not sure which one is right.
It's... something like that.
[At no point during that explanation did he make eye contact with Norman. On a potentially related note, now that he got it out of his system, he's not sure it's anything like what Norman was describing at all.]
[Marco's right, it IS entirely different. and yet Norman can follow the thread of it well enough, since it relates to how he tends to think when he's running on partial memory and trying to figure out what things the Goblin was responsible for, how he got from point A to point B. sometimes he'll think it was a lot worse than it actually was. and sometimes he underestimates his own subconscious capacity for cruelty.]
Those moments when you're not sure what's real - whether you can trust your own perception of things ... I've been there. It's terrifying.
[he thinks on this for a second, and then:]
If you ever need to, I dunno, double-check any dots. You can ask me. I won't make anything of it.
[Somehow, roundabout as the road may have been, they have reached common ground. It isn't enough for Marco to relax, not entirely, but he still feels something like relief; his smile looks marginally more worthy of the name now.]
I appreciate that.
[It's... embarrassing, yes, and he'll probably stick to asking Fiddleford for the foreseeable future. But he appreciates the sentiment, still.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not as glad as you are, I'd imagine. Would you like to sit down?
[Never mind Marco being tired. He promised to listen, so he will.]
no subject
[he does take one of the offered seats, crossing one ankle over his knee.]
I don't know: Reira told me that priests can hear everything, constantly, and I can't. But ...
[Marco's handed him a perfect segue, it's too good to stall on it just out of nerves]
I do know what it's like to have unwelcome noise in your head.
no subject
You too, huh?
[A moment passes, and it occurs to him that he might want to be more specific, given the context; he clasps his hands tightly together.]
I-- That is, even putting the network aside, I... [A sigh.] I'm... familiar with that, too.
no subject
You - wait, you are?! I - that's -
[a tiny scoff of disbelief slips between his lips, and he reaches up to run a thumb over his bottom lip. this changes so many things about how he had meant to proceed with the conversation]
Did you hear ... something else? Or was it ... some part of yourself?
cw: discussion of auditory hallucinations
One thing at a time, though. As difficult as it is for him to talk about this, he knows he can't pry too quickly.]
... Well, fundamentally, I'm not sure if there's a difference between the two. [His expression is wry, but calling it a smile would be pushing it.] No matter how convincing the... the voices may be, they're still my own creation.
[That's important for him to remember, actually. The people he thinks he hears... They're not really there. It's ALL him.]
cw con't. Hollywood DID discussion in this thread. also, sorry for the wait! <3
[the Goblin was so much more than just a voice, but this is a jumping off point. Norman breathes as he arranges his words in his mind, fingers fumbling at the arms of his chair, smoothing his pant leg, searching for anything to occupy himself]
What happened to me - it wasn't just a voice, but ... that was part of it. A terrible side effect of the test phase of a project that went horribly wrong.
no worries!
[Curiouser and curiouser. But, again, Marco doesn't want to pressure Norman, so he accompanies those words with an inquisitive look and nothing else.]
cw: brief mention of animal testing (concept only, no details)
[thinking of it as the scientific endeavor it originally was makes it a little easier to talk about. Norman swallows]
My company was commissioned by the government to create a chemical which would make their soldiers stronger, faster, give them heightened senses. And it all worked on paper - perfectly, right down to the last molecule. I made sure of it myself: so many sleepless nights in the lab or at my desk ... but when we were at the animal testing phase, they rushed us. Said we needed to have a viable product ready within two weeks, or they'd pass on our contract to our biggest competitor.
[he remembers that stomach-turning moment, when General Slocum had all but dressed him down in front of his entire production staff, and his partner had failed to have his back. it had felt like being punched in the gut and then kicked from behind. and he'd thought that had been the worst thing he could feel...]
Desperation stole my common sense ... I know that now. But back then, all I could feel was the panic, the fear of losing my entire life's work, the legacy I'd built from the ground up so that I'd be able to give my son a good life. A ... a better one than I'd had. I made my partner meet me in the laboratory after hours, so I could run the first test on myself.
no subject
The way that the story continues does little to help, either. In speculative fiction, when someone is driven to something like a live test on themselves... There are only a few ways that tends to go.]
What happened then?
no subject
The chemical was delivered via vapor in an isolation chamber... once it filled up the space, I - I remember hyperventilating. Feeling my pulse start to rocket. Then - I must have blacked out. When I came to, I was at home, lying on my floor. It took me a couple of weeks to really piece together what happened that night. What I'd done to myself.
[he looks down at his hands]
The serum made me stronger, yes - in that respect it performed exactly as it was supposed to. But the side effect I didn't see was that it also inflicted mental trauma on a level high enough to kickstart a second personality. One that catered to the parts of myself I kept buried, the darker impulses, repressed anger, that sort of thing. My own personal Edward Hyde, if you're familiar.
no subject
I... can see how that would lead to problems. On several levels.
[Marco gulps. That's what he meant by "a part of himself" - something more literal than what Marco hears...]
no subject
[the shame and remorse on his face are writ so large that they may as well be a billboard. he's not proud of this, or any of what's about to follow.]
I started having incidents where I would black out. Not often. One about a week after... then another a month or so after that ... my company was losing the contractor's confidence. Our competitor suffered sabotage and losses ... which I now realize I was the cause of. At the time, I had no clue. Quest Aerospace - that was the other company - reached out to the Oscorp board of directors and negotiated a sale. Of my company to theirs. They told me at the board meeting... and demanded my resignation. I was furious ... but I went home to lick my wounds.
[he shakes his head, glancing around the office, using whatever decor Marco has chosen as a distraction so he won't have to find any more memories floating up. enough have found him in nightmares since arriving in Ryslig: tattered helium balloons, the whine of hydraulics, a body being reduced to ash and bone in a chemical blast]
I blacked out a few days later and woke to find an article in the newspaper: my board had been killed by an unknown assailant wearing equipment stolen from our R&D. ... That was the first time I actually heard his voice. Spoke to him...
[he hesitates. he doesn't want to speak the name here, in case it's true names really do have power]
... the Goblin.
no subject
However, there is one thing Marco can't contain his curiosity about.]
Is that what... he called himself? Or did you name him? Er-- Sorry, this might not be... You don't have to say.
no subject
No, no, it's fine. I came here to talk to be honest with you, and talk about it. It wouldn't be fair of me to not answer your questions. The newspapers coined the name: "The Green Goblin", because of the color of the armor and the shape of the helmet. I think he liked it? ... But I'm not sure. It's either that or he just didn't care.
[he hasn't fully made the connection between the deep-buried memory that inspired the armor's design in the first place, not yet]
no subject
[That's only one more reason why Marco can't go home now. People would know. People would talk about it.]
I-I... Well...
[Where does he go from here? He's not sure. He didn't think the conversation would go to-- to split personalities.]
But-- You got better. Right?
no subject
[he pauses, still trying to figure out how best to word why he wanted Marco to know this]
The Fog. She turns us into .... monsters. And I don't think that will have anything to do with Him, but ... at the same time, I'm hearing all these wild stories of things people are made to do, things they become without their permission ... and I can't help but think that it might not be over.
[his face crumples]
Oh, Marco, I want it to be over. But the people I'm becoming close to here - you all need to know. In case.
no subject
Marco continues to listen... and, in the end, he nods. Even though he couldn't imagine what Norman would be confessing to when he approached him today, he thinks he understands.]
It's... [He sighs.] I won't lie to you, the stress alone can make things... difficult. At least for me. But - [A faint, but reassuring smile.] You have your head in the right place right now. I think that's a good sign.
no subject
[he tries for a self-deprecating smile, but doesn't quite get there. it's more of a grimace]
I don't know what you might've been expecting, but ... it probably wasn't all that. I hope I haven't ... put you off for the rest of the day.
no subject
[He attempts a smile of his own. He's going for "reassuring", but something about it is just a little too sad to hit the mark.]
Like I said, I know what it's like to... Well, I-- I obviously haven't gone through the same thing. But that doesn't mean...
[Marco stops himself mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. Though he means it in a purely
self-deprecatingobjective sense, he realises "That doesn't mean I'm any better than you" may not quite get the right idea across.]... I'd be a hypocrite if I judged you. That's what I'm trying to say.
no subject
Now you understand why I was so afraid of how open my mind was to all of that ... I want people to learn about it when and how I decide, not ... because I can't help seeing so much of this place through that lens. Of ... of what he would think of it all. What he'd do.
no subject
[He sighs. Even here and now, this is difficult for him to talk about.]
When I gained the ability to use the network like that, I don't think I... knew yet, that there was something wrong with me. Not exactly, not... fully. But I was still terrified. I felt so exposed, and... and it felt like anything I did to try and regain control over what I was putting out there just made it worse.
no subject
[he says it with a knowing glance, even if he's a little embarrassed to admit it. after telling someone about the Goblin, how could anything else be worse?]
D'you get that thing where - you start to get nervous, then you get annoyed that you're nervous, so you try to shut it down, but it just gets worse, and becomes this awful cycle?
no subject
[The expression on Marco's face could be described as a "wry smile," though some might call the "smile" part into question. He spirals, yes, but nervous feels like an understatement. It's more as if...
Again, he takes a deep breath.]
I think about things. I... connect dots. But sometimes, dots aren't supposed to be-- Sometimes, there aren't even any dots. Not really. So I catch myself doing it, and I stop. But then I wonder... If... the dots aren't really there, why can I see them so clearly? How can I ignore them? Sometimes I just have to connect them and pretend I don't see the line. Sometimes I-- I get... stuck, drawing lines and erasing them and drawing them again because I'm not sure which one is right.
It's... something like that.
[At no point during that explanation did he make eye contact with Norman. On a potentially related note, now that he got it out of his system, he's not sure it's anything like what Norman was describing at all.]
no subject
Those moments when you're not sure what's real - whether you can trust your own perception of things ... I've been there. It's terrifying.
[he thinks on this for a second, and then:]
If you ever need to, I dunno, double-check any dots. You can ask me. I won't make anything of it.
no subject
I appreciate that.
[It's... embarrassing, yes, and he'll probably stick to asking Fiddleford for the foreseeable future. But he appreciates the sentiment, still.]
(no subject)
(no subject)