[ Barbara takes her seat back. Uncertain quite how much to say. ]
Just me, currently. Although we've agreed about bringing in a few others for the book cataloging process once the ILS cataloging section is ready for that. I might be capable of many— [m. a. n. y.] —many things; but scanning all the books on five floors of a New York Branch Library would take even 'just me' an eternity still.
Unless she's mistaken, she doubts that's about why she wouldn't like to scan through five floors of books on her own. (A question with bigger answers Barbara Gordon, mild-mannered and code-ready librarian isn't ever connected to.) But she's accustomed to very terse, almost emotionally devoid responses, both in costume and out, in person and on comms. Wait until you meet any of the Wayne's, Shaw.
She's not the first to ask it, or to call the choice utterly useless.
Barbara lets herself weigh the gravity of it, and the multiple levels that question exists on, and the fact even Harold didn't have half the answer—and may not have even realized it was half the answer—until weeks after they'd agreed. Because Dick was sent home, and Barbara knows that Dick's absence, when she can't even contact him from a distance to know he's safe, does to her. But he's back.
And she's still very much here. And part of that has to do with the Chriper, too. In a way, she hasn't really taken the time to think about it in a long time. Barbara sits back in her chair, with a breath. ]
Because it makes people happy, and I've been here in Etraya long enough to know, there isn't much here that makes people happy for long, or with any genuine intent to that purpose behind doing so. Because there are people only newly discovering what books, and videos, and audiobooks, and digital resources even are. Because there's a man who's learning that there are words in these books to describe what he went through before, and how to use them. And children who are reading to grasp more the balance of power, and control, and self. And so on.
And at the beginning and end of the day— [ It's what she told Kirk, and at least one other person; and she looks to the shelves beyond—rows and rows of shelves and spines; endless words, endless wisdom, endless stories in endless voices. ] —because all knowledge is worth having, and we can't know today what might help someone with a mission. Or with solving the whole riddle of why we are here in the first place.
Or giving them one measure of peace to survive one more day between arriving and going home.
[The answer may not move Shaw, but she can still tell that it's a good one. She can also tell that Harold must like this woman - probably calls her a friend, in fact. Shaw follows her gaze out to the stacks, staring blank-eyed at the expanse of them.]
Okay.
[She clears her throat.]
No matter what you said, I wasn't going to try to mess up the work - in case you were wondering.
[ Babs isn't sure that was a consideration she had until those words from the woman. It's an interesting shift of the plates. ]
That's good to know. I've spent a considerable amount of time developing the new system, and I'd hate to have to train someone on it so soon. It's been a bit of a godsend and good distraction from everything else out there.
[ It's more lie than truth, but there is an edge of truth in it. ]
I know how John ended up working nights, reshelving, but how did you end up working for Mr. Finch, too, Miss --?
[ Barbara is pretty positive that John was elite military—but she hasn't seen him fight, so there are still questions there. The kind that a few missions often end up answering for someone who happens to follow everyone here. But she hadn't known the work might have extended to Mr. Finch. It's not an assumption to be made here in Etraya much.
There's a nod for the name. ]
I haven't asked him much about what he did back home, as he's seemed— [ Laconic. Stoic. Intense. Buttoned up. If, while still being quite honest. ] —a very private person. What did you all do back on your world?
[It's a normal enough question, and one that she's answered before, albeit in a bare-bones way (the word "freelance" has done a lot of mileage for her in Etraya). But even here on another world entirely, there are still a great many things that she doesn't share with just anyone, if at all: because Harold is private and she has some respect for that, and because top secret means top secret.
And sometimes because, in the back of her mind, there's always a little voice reminding her that this could still be a simulation, the longest of long cons, and that any errant detail that she lets slip is something that Samaritan could use.]
We helped people.
[She says, trying to force out the tension she can feel starting to leak into her muscles. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. It's a normal question.]
[ Barbara remains calm, sipping at her drink. If she had to guess, she might be adding the same assumption about John, potentially, to this woman now. The one who <>actively is working security for the library, whenever needed, and does it needed sometimes? And if so, for what?—but she had far less to go on it, too. Only the tension of someone who doesn't quite find a calm in having any part of their past extricated. It could just as likely be just that, too.
Babs would take it more outwardly casually, but her secrets didn't do for poking either. ]
I think that says more about you all, rather than less. Sometimes the hardest right things to do are the ones that have no other payoff than themselves.
[ She knows a good bit about that, being the person who helps all the heroes across the globe, who keeps all of their information secret, and who is only known to be herself, behind the mask, by the smallest handful of them. Barbara Gordon will never see the payoff from Oracle, except in a world that is taken care of, and that's enough for her. ]
[She doesn't push and needle; she doesn't try to use Shaw to get intel that she hadn't been able to dig out of Harold. And that helps - a bit more tension falls away, and if its own volition, this time.]
You're telling me; you should see some of the crappy places I've had to hole up in.
[Still, she doesn't actually sound nearly as bitter as her words would imply. Harold had paid them extremely well, back when he'd had the means to, and money had never been anything close to Shaw's primary motivator anyway.]
But personally, I think having the fate of our universe's ongoing existence on our shoulders is harder.
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etraya
no subject
[ Shaw drops down into the seat across from Barbara's, all plans of leaving vanishing from her mind. ]
Gotta say, the guy's committed.
no subject
Uncertain quite how much to say. ]
Just me, currently. Although we've agreed about bringing in a few others for the book cataloging process once the ILS cataloging section is ready for that. I might be capable of many— [ m. a. n. y. ] —many things; but scanning all the books on five floors of a New York Branch Library would take even 'just me' an eternity still.
no subject
Why?
no subject
Unless she's mistaken, she doubts that's about why she wouldn't like to scan through five floors of books on her own. (A question with bigger answers Barbara Gordon, mild-mannered and code-ready librarian isn't ever connected to.) But she's accustomed to very terse, almost emotionally devoid responses, both in costume and out, in person and on comms. Wait until you meet any of the Wayne's, Shaw.
She says back easily: ]
Why what?
no subject
[This place isn't even real.]
no subject
She's not the first to ask it,
or to call the choice utterly useless.
Barbara lets herself weigh the gravity of it, and the multiple levels that question exists on, and the fact even Harold didn't have half the answer—and may not have even realized it was half the answer—until weeks after they'd agreed. Because Dick was sent home, and Barbara knows that Dick's absence, when she can't even contact him from a distance to know he's safe, does to her. But he's back.
And she's still very much here. And part of that has to do with the Chriper, too.
In a way, she hasn't really taken the time to think about it in a long time.
Barbara sits back in her chair, with a breath. ]
Because it makes people happy, and I've been here in Etraya long enough to know, there isn't much here that makes people happy for long, or with any genuine intent to that purpose behind doing so. Because there are people only newly discovering what books, and videos, and audiobooks, and digital resources even are. Because there's a man who's learning that there are words in these books to describe what he went through before, and how to use them. And children who are reading to grasp more the balance of power, and control, and self. And so on.
And at the beginning and end of the day— [ It's what she told Kirk, and at least one other person; and she looks to the shelves beyond—rows and rows of shelves and spines; endless words, endless wisdom, endless stories in endless voices. ] —because all knowledge is worth having, and we can't know today what might help someone with a mission. Or with solving the whole riddle of why we are here in the first place.
Or giving them one measure of peace to survive one more day between arriving and going home.
no subject
Okay.
[She clears her throat.]
No matter what you said, I wasn't going to try to mess up the work - in case you were wondering.
no subject
That's good to know. I've spent a considerable amount of time developing the new system, and I'd hate to have to train someone on it so soon. It's been a bit of a godsend and good distraction from everything else out there.
[ It's more lie than truth,
but there is an edge of truth in it. ]
I know how John ended up working nights, reshelving, but how did you end up working for Mr. Finch, too, Miss --?
no subject
[Shaw says, her face finally cracking with a faint little grin.]
I work for him back home.
[Work. Worked? No, she'll stick with present tense here.]
Here I'm just crashing; he has another thing coming if he tries to get me to shelve anything.
[She doesn't leave out her own name on purpose, but it is as a belated afterthought that she adds--]
I'm Shaw.
no subject
There's a nod for the name. ]
I haven't asked him much about what he did back home, as he's seemed— [ Laconic. Stoic. Intense. Buttoned up. If, while still being quite honest. ] —a very private person. What did you all do back on your world?
no subject
And sometimes because, in the back of her mind, there's always a little voice reminding her that this could still be a simulation, the longest of long cons, and that any errant detail that she lets slip is something that Samaritan could use.]
We helped people.
[She says, trying to force out the tension she can feel starting to leak into her muscles. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. It's a normal question.]
No points for us at home, though.
no subject
Babs would take it more outwardly casually,
but her secrets didn't do for poking either. ]
I think that says more about you all, rather than less.
Sometimes the hardest right things to do are the ones that have no other payoff than themselves.
[ She knows a good bit about that, being the person who helps all the heroes across the globe, who keeps all of their information secret, and who is only known to be herself, behind the mask, by the smallest handful of them. Barbara Gordon will never see the payoff from Oracle, except in a world that is taken care of, and that's enough for her. ]
no subject
You're telling me; you should see some of the crappy places I've had to hole up in.
[Still, she doesn't actually sound nearly as bitter as her words would imply. Harold had paid them extremely well, back when he'd had the means to, and money had never been anything close to Shaw's primary motivator anyway.]
But personally, I think having the fate of our universe's ongoing existence on our shoulders is harder.