A brief census, if you will. Typically, I'm not interested in such things, but... it may prove useful in determining the hows and whys of our arrivals.
Approximately, or, preferably, exactly, how many universes are represented by individuals within the Haven? Specifically Cybertronian universes.
Though, I suppose, if we're going to be entirely accurate, we also need to consider organic universes...
So consider this an informal survey. Do try and respond promptly.
[Yeah Perceptor doesn't even bother looking at the camera this time. He's too busy pounding away at the keyboard. The words ENERGON and COLOR VARIETIES can be seen on the screen.]
Yes, yes, I'm well aware of the issue, and, before anyone even begins to ask...
I had absolutely nothing to do with it. And neither did any of my experiments.
[TYPE TYPE TYPE TYPE -- yes, he's well aware of how everyone here feels about his Synthetic Energon Experiments.]
I am however amassing a database of currently known aberrant energon varieties, based on network-wide complaints and attempting to create some sort of solution.
So do save your impending rage for a more appropriate target.
... Has anyone heard from Smokescreen, of late? He's... been suspiciously silent.
[There's an awkward silence, before his tone suddenly turns brusque. As if brushing off the other words.]
Likely, he's become bored of his studies with me, and is avoiding the work. I'll... simply have to drag him back, if that's the case...
[He trails off, something in that tone failing him.]
That said... I'm in the middle of some very intensive trials. So I would prefer any and all interruptions or visitors to be kept to the bare minimum. Unless you're answering the aforementioned question.
[Translation: I'm working so hard so I don't think about missing people.]
[The feed is then full of that awkward silence until he simply shuts it off.]
[No video feed this time. Perceptor's voice is... oddly hoarse. Rough. It sounds as if something's gone awry with his vocal processor.]
I'm going to add in my support for the medics. So to sp--
[He cuts off, abruptly, with little choking noises. Like someone trying to hold back a coughing fit. When he speaks again, he just sounds exhausted.]
I'll be... attempting to find some way to counteract the effects of... all of this. Mess. In my lab.
Perhaps this is a foolish question, but, considering I've never collected any data on the subject...
[Perceptor's where he always is, typing away at his console. Though his attention appears to be on the Glyph on his arm.]
[Staring accusingly at it.]
... While we're all aware these markings possess certain effects, should we attract the attention of our "hosts"... has anyone experienced any sort of negative effect, pertaining to the changing of one's brand?
[YOU KNOW. For curiosity's sake. Totally. No ulterior motive here.]
[Behold, the shattered remains of Perceptor's lab. It looks better than before, though -- some things are back in order again. One of the tables has been pieced together again. And it's on this table that Perceptor has... crashed, for lack of a better word, with his hand knocking into the comm.]
[Days and nights working on repairs, while making trips back and forth to the medical bay will wear out even the toughest scientist.]
[Clearly visible on his arm, however, is a very different Glyph than last time... this one is now green.]
[His head suddenly jerks up, and he stares for a moment, before blinking, and... well. Realizing he just turned the thing on. He looks haggard.]
Oh. Right. There. Was an announcement I meant to make. According to my records, it would seem that I have been present on this world for--
[He glances down at what appear to be notes.]
--wait, no, I've lost... what day is it? Anyway. Not important. The point is that I've been here far longer than anticipated, and was curious as to how long others have been present on this world.
[Happy Haven-versary to you too, Perceptor. That's what you were trying to say, right?]
[... the lab is a disaster. It's almost hard to tell that is is Perceptor's lab. It looks as if a wrecking ball went through the room. There's nothing left undamaged in some way. Even his chair is all but flattened.]
[The scientist himself stands in the middle of the room, sorting broken bits of something into crates.]
... as you can see, any projects I was currently working on are... on hold, to say the least. I don't have a working computer, let alone proper lab facilities, at the moment.
[He tosses the piece he's holding into a crate, dragging his hand down his face.]
And... if there happens to be any bored parties capable of heavy lifting who find themselves with nothing to do... clearly I've need of assistance.
[The scientist has his face resting in his hand, optics offlined while he rubs at his forehead.]
I can't get a damned text through to his comm. Voice either. It's as if...
[Perceptor trails off, suddenly realizing he's activated the "call all" button, or broadcast function, whichever it is. He straightens, looking abruptly less defeated and more irritable. Which is normal for him.]
Has anyone been able to locate Smokescreen as of late?
If he's run off on some idiotic adventure, I would prefer to hear of it. Now.
[Perceptor where have you been--]
[Okay, before that question is even asked, the answer is pretty obvious. There are bright red crystals all over one of his work tables. Some are perfectly unharmed, some of pieces cut out, and some appear to have been ground down into a fine powder.]
[Perceptor himself is eying what appears to be a boiling set of tubes, carefully, adjusting their heating unit the whole while.]
Now before anyone inevitably starts in with the lecture on "be careful with what you're doing", I can assure you I have centuries worth of experience handing potentially volatile components, and the warnings are not only a waste of time, but highly unnecessary. [He trails off, slowly reducing the heat on the tubes until they cease boiling. The liquid inside is a mottled red-green.]
[From the look on his face, it's not what he was expecting.]
That said... I take it others have witnessed the small glowing insects leading them to mineral deposits recently? Might I inquire as to what you've obtained, as a result?
It could be useful...
[It's not unusual for the tank to look peeved. It's sort of Perceptor's general state of existence, lately. Except today, he appears a bit more irate than usual. The sudden burst of network activity, combined with disappearances, failed tests, whatever the scrap happened to Wheeljack...]
[No. He's done.]
Right then. If we're going to be busy recreating pre-war tensions left and right...
I wash my hands of this weirdness.
, Cybertron.[And, with that, he clicks the comm off with abrupt, angry, Space-British finality.]
[Except a note appears, later.]( [ PRIVATE TO: SMOKESCREEN ] )
[The camera bounces, like someone knocked into it by accident -- and given who this is, that's entirely possible. It's Perceptor, peering through a scope, into a beaker of pink fluid.]
[He looks ragged. Haggard. Someone hasn't slept in days. Maybe longer.]
[He keeps right on adjusting things, staring into the beaker for a long, long while. Finally, he pushes it away, still staring at it.]
... it's done.
[He blinks several times, and drags his hands over his face.]
I've finished. A... perfectly viable sample of... [He squints at it.] Synthetic energon. No thanks to constant interruptions...
[One hand fumbles around, feeling awkwardly for the Link, while he props himself up on the other.]
... Perhaps this is a bit hasty in coming, but I've lost contact with Grimlock.
[And the last time this happened, he apparently ran into Shockwave, so, the scientist is understandably concerned.]
[Since there's more than one Shockwave here.]
I rather doubt he's gotten himself into danger or anything of the sort, however, I would be grateful to hear anything, should someone happen to sight him. He's difficult to miss, really.
[First this business with Magnus and now...]
[OH HEY LOOK. Perceptor's back! And... apparently draped all over something. But for the moment, it's hard to see what exactly he's laying on.]
Ah, yes. Well. It would seem things are beginning to go back to a relative state of normalcy? And none too soon, I might add, considering the number of projects I'm meant to be working on...
[He pauses, shifting a little, and glancing at something off-screen.]
... Speaking of which, I'd like to go back to work as soon as possible. If anyone with information on the following projects would kindly respond, we can continue.
[He switches to text, typing out his list:]
> synthetic energon
> the location of the "DRILLER"
> the nature of the "DRILLER"
> Smokescreen's current status and location
[The list sent, he shifts again.] As I said, any information on those subjects will be most appreciated --
[And looks up once more, speaking to whatever it is he's looking at.]
Commander, kindly hold your legs still until I'm finished. Your lap is hardly as comfortable as it looks --
[At first, all you can hear is an irate hissing sound.]
[The table shakes, making the Link rattle around.
[This little creature appears, leaping onto the tabletop and chattering angrily. It pauses, feathers ruffling, and then... and then it proceeds to peck at the text function of the Link with its feet.]this is not fnnuy
do yooou havveh anhy idea how
hard it is to tyep ?????[Another long hiss, the creature's feathers standing on end, as if in an attempt to make itself look larger than it actually is. And, for a second, the bright intelligence in its eyes fades.]
[Looks as if someone has some new instincts he needs to fight...]
[Hey, look who's back on his feet! And... typing away at something, as usual.]
Now then... as the Haven is, I'm sure, aware, my lab is in a shambles. As a result, I'm going to have to result to... asking for favors.
Should anyone happen to come across anything even remotely scientific in nature -- equipment, chemicals, and the like -- I would be grateful for the notification.
Commander Magnus, I understand you've returned to us. Have you a moment?
[He pauses, tapping a few more keys.]
And, Grimlock. Mind terribly reporting in briefly?