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test drive meme

Test Drive Meme The Pan Pacific Defense Corps was usually offered any of a variety of local buildings to set up their testing centers. For reasons of access and availability, most testing clinics were set up in central areas for any given community. Those of the PPDC staff on hand vary in their personal intensity. Some of the men and women wearing Strike Group insignia seemed overly serious, to the point of frowning with intensity at some of the youngest checking in for this testing round. Those from the K-Science division are tight with nervous energy as they direct prospective cadets through various activities. Everything was meant to measure potential, looking for that spark that meant they had somebody who was Drift Compatible. The majority of people were turned away after the first series of seemingly random tests, officials looking in eyes, placing odd looking contraptions over heads, asking for people to play a series of short games, one even in a virtual reality set-up.

	( SCENARIO ONE ) If you are still here now, you've made it past the first cut. You'll be sat down in a room with the rest who have made it this far, then systematically led into smaller interview rooms as pairs. If you came with a partner, they're your first interview candidate. If you came on your own, all your interviews are random assignment. All who have been asked to stay are required to sit through and conduct a series of short peer to peer interviews. The questions are straightforward. What is your least favorite color? Which tool in a standard toolbox is most useful to you? What time of day do you accomplish the most? Do you have children? What do you believe the Drift is like? Peer to peer interviews last for half an hour to an hour, and each person is asked to participate in at least three peer-to-peer interviews. There is no punishment for going off script. There is a one-way mirror looking into each interview area, and one door leading into the room with a small panel of glass located on the door. There is a clock on the wall in each room. The time they report is odd, when examined. These are not digital clocks, but timers, counting up time since the last Kaiju attack.

	( SCENARIO TWO ) Congratulations! You have been judged Drift Compatible, and sent home to pack after giving a definite yes to the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. The next thing you face down is the flight into Santiago, Chile, and the subsequent drive in to Valparaíso's Shatterdome. You and the rest of the crowd of soon to be PPDC Ranger Cadets have been gathered together to wait for the old bus scheduled to take you to the Shatterdome. While waiting in the open air, those from any Northern Hemisphere countries may find the summer weather strange. Today's high is going to be in the upper 80's, and there's not a cloud to be seen that's not clinging to the distant mountains. Welcome to Chile. When the bus arrives, it's another hour ride out toward the coastline to get to the Shatterdome. Even better? The bus Air Conditioner is broken. Safe travels, Cadets!

Please set up your own scenarios as you like. The above two scenarios are suggestions. Anything goes!

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Guy could see the pique of interest on Luke's face. Luke hadn't exactly been proud of his colors, not when they were tied to his family name, but he was always wearing flashy clothes, and he'd let his bright hair grow long and wild. It was hard to imagine him looking like anything else.

"You could always get a projection preview," he shrugged, "but just doing it is a little fun too." Guy had just cut and dyed his in a fit in the bathroom, the old fashioned way. Eventually he got tired of re-dying it and had a permanent treatment done.

"As for a name... what was that nickname the girls used to call you? Fire-something... Torch! The mysterious Torch," Guy announces, waving his hand in the air like a news marquee. "Maybe a little high profile..."

It probably didn't take a lot of observation to notice that Luke never met Raleigh's eyes for more than a second, if that, always finding something else just past him or to the side to distract himself with.

Still, the question gives him pause. Or maybe it was just the fact that Raleigh hadn't immediately taken off, which Luke had expected, he glances at him a bit longer this time before his gaze slides away again. "Yeah, I mean, who wouldn't be? You're the second ranger I've talked to since I got here. And maybe..."

He stops himself sort of vocalizing his own wish to be able to accomplish something similar for himself. "It's just pretty crazy. I can't believe I even made it."

But maybe that wasn't a great thing to admit. He should probably at least learn to pretend had some confidence. He steals another glance at the ranger. "Are you... teaching here...?"

Maybe that was a stupid question, he understood that the pilots of the jaegers stationed at this shatterdome had to be somewhere, but it felt unbelievable that he kept just running into them.

"High profile is the last thing I want." Luke responds with a half-joking huff, but also finds himself self consciously tugging on the ends of his hair. His mom would completely lose it. She hadn't been that thrilled when he cut it.

"Anyway, if I did something like that, if I ever got found out, they'd just talk about it being a publicity stunt. Maybe I should just go all out and get plastic surgery."

He delivers this in enough of a flat monotone that it's obvious he's just joking at this point.

"You'll give your mother a heart attack," Guy seems to land around the same train of thought, shaking his head with a smile. Like running away to be a cadet wouldn't.

"Anyway, Don't change so much I lose you in a crowd," Guy reaches over and messes up his hair again. He's joking too - now that they finally seem to be clearing some old trails, he's happy to follow them. His voice is over-impressed. "You could riff off it! Like a phoenix. Go short and black and be Ash, and be reborn."

Luke groans, making it very clear what he thinks of that idea before he says anything. "I'm never hiring you for PR. If you want a ridiculous story like that, make it your own."

Edited 2014-02-04 07:15 (UTC)

[Guy certainly looks older than he is, shy of 21. He can't quite place how old the boy in front of him is, though - sixteen? Seventeen? Maybe he's a prodigy - or just someone with a chip on his shoulder, like someone else he knew. He supposes he could always ask.]

Okay, Hyuuga. Green, really? Why green?

[It was a basic question to start, but that was the point, right? As incredibly boring trains of conversation went, it was a strange color to dislike. Trees, and all.]

The rush of warm air shocks her for a moment; it certainly isn't what she was expecting. But while it's not the air-conditioned system that one could hope for in this heat, it's definitely a lot better than the makeshift oven they call a bus. A mild improvement is an improvement at the very least. She leans out the window, her long hair whipping out behind her, if only to briefly catch a cooler breeze outside.

"Much better, yes." It's still a long way from Valparaiso and the searing hot wind on her face tells her just that. Hopefully it turns cooler by the time they get there, considering how close it is to the ocean. She's read that Valparaiso's a port as well and thinks that it might not be so much different from home.

Leila settles once more in her seat and turns to him with a smile. He looks a little less uncomfortable, though it may have something to do with the ventilation. She wouldn't be surprised if that's the case. "Thank you for your help with the window. I honestly thought it wouldn't open at all."

He turns his gaze on the girl, eyes narrowed. She's definitely making fun of him. There's no way that sparkle in her eyes is benign. Still, he doesn't want to start his term with an argument so he takes a deep breath and doesn’t say that sweets are nutrionally poor and detrimental to a cadet's diet.

"I do appreciate your kindness, but it's merely a matter of taste. I didn't intend to appear sour."

If that's true, he should probably dispense with that perpetual scowl lurking under his thin veil of stoicism.

[Are you kidding with that question, Raleigh? John raises an eyebrow and suppresses a laugh. He probably shouldn't consider taking any liberties — not when there's so much on the line — but this guy seems all right so far. At least he hasn't started demanding attention and snapping out orders.]

Haven't issued that yet, either.

[But he descends into a light chuckle, turning to walk backward as he offers Becket his hand in greeting.] It's Blake.

"I agree!" Sugane almost jumped up a little before he caught himself and just sat forward a bit in his chair instead. "And if you decide to put something off until later, you'll keep pushing it back, so it's better to do the most important things right away when you wake up."

Sugane was a morning person to begin with, so it was definitely an easy question for him to answer. "Early to bed and early to rise" was the sort of lifestyle that invited teasing when you were his age, but it didn't bother him. He had very strict routines to follow and they'd always served him well, so he saw no reason to be ashamed of them.

"Now for the next question, I think I may as well say right away that I don't have any children. Do you?" They both seemed a bit young for it, but it was part of the interview, so he had to ask.

The deceptively frivolous smile doesn't falter; she'd laugh if she knew what he was thinking. Of course candy was bad for you — childish self-indulgence was half the fun of eating it. With their world threatened by monsters from beyond the distant stars, it was good to have a taste of something sweet to remind yourself that there was more to life than blood and bitterness and fear.

Or maybe she's the only one that needs that sort of thing. She wouldn't be surprised.

"You should try smiling next time! I bet it won't kill you."

Two fingers are applied to her cheeks, at the corners of her mouth, pushing up to exaggerate her smile. He's clearly meant to imitate the expression.

She considers saying no. After all, what could he do about it? He's much younger than her by the look of him — the difference in age has to be at least six years, if not more. (Some part of her wants to protest the inclusion of kids in the program, but that wasn't her call to make. Besides, it couldn't be helped.) Yet in the end, Chelsea relents with a shrug.

"Nah, I'm full." A true enough statement: her appetite came and went, ground down to the nubs by the sour feelings that were never allowed to show openly. She hands over her mostly-full tray. "Just don't choke on it, or I'll get in trouble for contributing to the near-death of a minor."

There's that uncomfortable sense that Guy knows too much again; even as Yuri shifts his weight, he winces, wondering if Guy has caught on he only fidgets when he feels pinned. Where the hell did Guy get all this confidence from? In the past it had always been Yuri pushing him, dragging him yelling at him to speak up. Guy had been meek.

"How will I know how to break the rules and disappoint their standards if I don't know them?" It's a another breezy answer, but stubborn in its content.

Tenpou blinked, mildly surprised, and for a moment there was a flicker of interest in his bleary, unfocused eyes. "...Indeed, Miss von Karma. There are never enough hours in the day to accomplish what must be done." How true that was, when they were fighting a war against an enemy that was not only unknown but unknowable.

This girl might prove interesting. He'd keep an eye on her.

But for now, he only smiled one of his vague, empty-headed smiles and tilted his head. "Chienpo?" he echoed without bothering to correct her. "You should call me Chien-chan, then. It's cuter."

"Precisely." That got a smile. Yaichirou was less enthusiastic than Tachibana, but he had endured plenty of ribbing for his habits too. It was nice to see someone his age who understood. The warm response put him enough at ease that he answered the next question with a derisive huff.

"Do younger brothers count?" He certainly felt like he was taking care of children, and it was no easy task to keep them in line. But his annoyance gave way to sheepishness almost immediately; look at him, taking advantage of a serious interview to make immature complaints. He cleared his throat and straightened himself.

"That is to say no, no children. What do you believe the Drift is like?"

In his haste to move on, he hadn't realized they were already at that question.It was a good thing Tachibana would go first. Yaichirou had spent a long time on this question and try as he might, he couldn't find an answer that really satisfied him. He'd scripted a few, of course-- one must be prepared-- but they were always wrong. Too clinical, or too vague, or too cheesy. His previous interview partners were just as awful.

He sat back and studied Tachibana, intensely curious. The boy had proven himself intelligent thus far. Time to see what he could do.

Edited 2014-02-04 23:21 (UTC)

1.
Kou's a bit nervous, honestly. He was sent here to succeed, not to flunk out on a technicality. The questions aren't what he expected. Few of them are relevant at all. It's more like a personality test than a knowledge test, isn't it? That's great, but which personality are they looking for here? Is there a wrong answer? Is it just to determine compatibility?

Maybe that's it. He taps the cards together, forgetting that he's grasping them too tightly for that. A thin line of blood blooms on the inside of his index finger. A paper cut. He stares at it for a moment, watching the red spread over his pale skin. Well, he'll just have to be himself. You can't get through everything on tradition. He clears his throat, and shoots an easy smile at his interview partner. "I've never built anything in my life," he admits. "Maybe the measuring tape. Nothing works if it doesn't fit, right?"

2.
Travel is a familiar concept for Kou, but this is a diffeent style than he's used to. He'd occasionally reflected before on what sort of difference it made to forgo first class, walking past long lines of other passengers at aeroports. He'd always found the scene distasteful, and secretly had hoped to try general boarding out at some point to see what it was like.

This is a little more than he'd bargained for. The bus is crowded and stuffy, the roads are rough. He's jet lagged and nauseous, craning his neck toward the nearest window to try and catch a glimpse of he unfamiliar country whizzing by, as though it might help. It's a tossup, between the exhaust fumes and the burning feeling of the overheated floor beneath them. He wipes some sweat from his brow and glances around. Is this normal? It can't be, right? Everyone else looks miserable, too.

He pulls some gum from a pocket -he'd brought it for the flight, and he's glad for it now- and offers a piece to the nearest person he can catch the eye of. "Fresh out of the rose and lemon ice, but here's some ginger."

Everyone getting off the bus smells like sweat and diesel and that weird aroma of stale corn chips that seems to permeate the seats, but there's a big reception hall for registration and...oh, wow. Water. Kou drops his bag indifferently and heads for the water dispenser, chugging down a few paper cones full in a row. It's he sweetest, most refreshing thing he's ever tasted. It helps quell some of the nausea from that intense bus ride.

He decides to get out of the way so others can have some too, but only after filling his cup one last time to take along. He's so focused on the water that he steps to the side and his usual grace nearly fails him. He pulls up just short of running smack into a very tall, good looking man. He stops so suddenly a bit of water splashes out of the cup and onto the floor between them. Damn. Is that Raleigh Becket? No way. They hadn't been told they'd have the opportunity to spill things on celebrities today.

"Sumimase-ah, sorry! You won't believe me if I say I didn't see you, right?"

It's not far ahead, thick and long and stretched all the way across the path and way out of sight along the other side. Some sort of enormous jungle snake, indifferent to the flock of teenagers that seem to be running around on top of it as it suns itself.

Kou merely hops over it at first, but then frowns and hops back when he realizes he's alone on the other side. It hadn't been a dire warning in his opinion, he just hadn't wanted the younger boy to trip, with his eyes closed that way. He chuckles lightly, apparently not to concerned by the situation, and jogs back over to where Armin stands.

"We don't have them like that at home either. Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Sir? There's no need to be that formal. 'Ten-chan' is fine." That was a drop of several levels in formality, but Tenpou didn't seem concerned. His ever-present cigarette dangled from his lips in defiance of lab anti-smoking rules as he sat at the command console and began typing. The sample container was taller than himself or Sugane, so a large industrial robot took care of releasing the catches that secured the metal lid.

"And don't worry - you're doing great! Experience is the best teacher, you know." For a moment, Tenpou almost sounded like a competent mentor... and then he opened his mouth again. "Or at least that's what they said on Dragonball. I'd advise that you try not to die quite so many times as the characters in that anime, though."

"Yeah, that's no problem." He nodded easily. "I mean, hormones, the mood swings, the thinking you know a hell of a lot more than you do - I remember all that for sure. I think I can handle it, as long as I'm not expected to adopt somebody or something." There was that caveat. He wasn't ready to be a father, or a pretend father, or even a father figure. Cool uncle, maybe. "I mean, I'm not exactly Disney material."

That was just honesty. He wasn't Nani. He wasn't Jo March. He was rough around the edges, rough in the middle, and not exactly appropriate for people under the age of seventeen, if not eighteen.

"But..."

But.

"But I remember that a lot of the other guys I went to school with... No matter how bad off they were, they were usually there because of what someone else did. The root cause, I mean. What their mother or father or some other family member did, or a teacher, or older students, or... well, pick a person. Kids don't grow up to be jerks in a vacuum."

"Hey, gotta have all types," Mike returned with a smile. "And there's no guarantee I'll ever climb into a real conn-pod, so I might just end up teaching the people who get the job I want. But as for you - jumphawks or spotter duty?"

He knew enough to know both are vital. If he did end up a pilot, he wouldn't want to go out into the field without either.

"Guinea pigs are actually a major source of protein in parts of South America," Mike said. That was the truth. And here they were, in Valparaiso, so of course it was just natural to bring that up. "So yeah, our mystery meat might be a lot of guinea pig. I've never had it before, but I bet it's passable, anyway."

"Hm?" He says, half-distracted un-rolling his sleeves and making sure his jacket is straight. When Luke's statement catches up with him, he grimaces, biting back the immediate retort that comes to mind: Your father wouldn't say so.

Though he had certainly tried to appeal to Yuri's better nature, just before he'd killed him.

Mouth set in an neutral line, he looks back at Luke, jerking his remaining sleeve down and buttoning it with brisk annoyance. "Just keep what I told you in mind." Dammit, he had to have something more than that. He'd killed this kid's father; he didn't have any business making nice with him. He should have left him alone to start. Now... now he would have to figure something out. Later, though. For now, he gave Luke a curt nod, and used his longer stride to out-distance him back to the compound.

"Neither have I, unfortunately."

It's obvious that Leila's thinking through the questions too hard, lips pursed and forehead creased, that she nearly all but ignore her partner. Her father has never been home for too long to teach her whatever art he knows in construction or building; her grandfather, on the other hand, prefers to buy pieces rather than make them. And the Royal Navy certainly did not include "items in a standard toolbox" as part of her studies during her brief time with them.

She pauses, giving the question some more thought, before she looks up at him from the sheet of paper. "Then I'll go with the hammer. It seems that you can do various kinds of repair as long as you have a hammer and a handful of nails."

Sound logic ... or at least, she thinks it is. Leila smiles slightly before she glances back down at the list of questions. She's usually not one to say anything (most especially during evaluations like this) but — "Not at all of them makes sense, do they? The questions, I mean."

Edited 2014-02-05 15:17 (UTC)

"Or that." He shrugs, unconcerned. Now seemed a good a time as any to ask what he was really after. "You're probably sick of hearing questions about the Drift, but I can't help asking... Is it really just like that--" He snaps his fingers demonstrably. "And someone knows everything inside your head? All the embarassing childhood stories? I can see why people would want to do that with more than one person. "

Yuri wasn't generally a person who put a lot of thought into schooling his expression, but he did his best to look blandly curious. It was only a little undercut by the anxious tenseness in the way he held his body.

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