SGA Wip: Other Men's Heads (part one)

[out_there]

This is seperis's fault. It had something to do with the merits of characterisation. *shrugs*

Other Men's Heads

He that knows himself, knows others; and he that is ignorant of himself, could not write a very profound lecture on other men's heads.
Charles Caleb Colton (1780-1832) British clergyman, sportsman and author.

It was one of those mornings when Rodney woke up on top of his keyboard, the space bar pressed onto his lower lip and a truly disgusting amount of drool on keys b to m.

That was when it started, although he didn't recognise it at first. At first, he thought that it was simply an overwhelming sense of grime that gave him the need to shower. The thought of hot water was heavenly.

But as he showered (communal bathrooms attached to the labs? Best idea the Ancients ever had. If you didn't count ZPMs) he found himself thinking of breakfast. That wasn't unusual. Thinking about the structural integrity of the catwalks was.

Breakfast was pancakes with almost-maple syrup. There were other options, but that was clearly the superior choice. As far as Rodney was concerned, it was the only choice. He would have helped himself to a third helping, but there was a team debriefing scheduled to start in... oh, fifteen seconds.

Rodney gulped down his cup of coffee and walked -- it wasn't a run unless you moved your arms too -- to the conference room.

Elizabeth, looking obscenely refreshed at nine in the morning, was glancing down at handwritten notes. John had his feet up on the table, while Teyla and Ronon talked, leaving long pauses between their shortly worded sentences.

For a moment, Rodney heard the sounds of hoofbeats and racing commentators. "And bringing up the rear... it's Rodney McKay! Fashionably tardy as ever. Still a dead cert for last place in any race."

Rodney blinked, stopping, and looked around the room again. Elizabeth, tapping a pen on her notebook; Teyla crossing her arms; Ronon pushing three dark dreadlocks out of his eyes; and John, pulling his feet off the table with a casual smile. They didn't look as if they'd heard anything out of the ordinary.

It must have been a practical joke. Rodney was pretty sure he knew the culprit, too. Radek was still sore over yesterday (if he wanted to experiment on the thingy that lit up instead of the one that sat there uselessly... well, he should have had the foresight to be head of the science department). From the lack of reactions around him, they must have all been in on it.

If they wanted to be immature and resort to pranks, fine. It would take more than a cheap rewiring of the PA system to make Rodney McKay stop in his tracks.

Or it would from now on.

He made his way to an empty chair and ignored John's lazy wave. "Sorry, overslept. Did I miss anything actually important?"

"We haven't started yet," John said, and the PA system said, "We need to get alarm clocks for the labs."

Rodney glared at Ronon, who was doing a remarkable job of looking bored by the entire thing. At least Teyla had the grace to smile enigmatically at the stupid Earth sense of humour.

Rodney wasn't going to admit defeat. "Okay, let's get this over with."

Elizabeth cleared her throat and started to sililoquise on the merits of understanding native cultures. It was quite impressive watching her keep a completely straight face while the sounds of "Henry the VIII I am, I am" filled the room. After the third verse, Rodney realised he'd started humming along. He stopped when John shot him a confused look.

The rest of the meeting was the regular level of boring -- after all, there were only so many ways you say, "They were nice farmers. We swapped crops for a few basic medications and some really nice dyes," without rolling your eyes -- that left Rodney wondering why he had to attend. Of the four of them, Teyla was the one who most often answered Elizabeth's detailed questions about social structures, language and decor. Occasionally Ronon or John would add in details like "They have a very interesting New Moon festival," or "They seemed friendly," respectively.

Rodney could have spent his time in far more productive ways. Like staring at the back of Simpson's head until she finished re-writing that damn report. He didn't need to sit here wondering about Radek's sense of what was, and what was not, amusing.

Rodney couldn't place the voice. It sounded blandly familiar, like the Fox voiceover guy had decided to branch out from promos to random commentary. And it was extremely random. Discussions of crops and their relative trading value were hard to follow at the best of times, but suddenly hearing, "How many Henry's were there anyway?" or "The problem with target ranges is that nothing really explodes. It would be so much more fun if something could just go boom! I wonder what would explode best?" made it impossible.

After a very frightening list of items that the military contingent were never allowed to touch again, Rodney started to get truly suspicious. Elizabeth was a born actress -- after all, she hadn't become an international diplomat through her highly prized knitting skills -- and Teyla always showed far more cleavage than facial expression. Ronon could pull an arrow out of his thigh without a flinch, but John?

Rodney knew John.

John wouldn't be able to sit through this commentary on blowing things sky-high without grinning, without slipping somehow. Without adding his own suggestions on the next thing they should try shooting.

The answer was obvious. Radek hadn't screwed with the PA system, he'd screwed with Rodney's headset. Much easier to do and much easier to hide from the authorities. Smirking, Rodney eased the earpiece off and put it in his pocket.

He felt rightfully smug, until the voiceover guy asked, "What's for lunch?"

"Oh, come on!"

All four of them turned to look at him. Elizabeth raised one eyebrow and said, "Do you have an objection to mandated twelve-month engagements?"

"Of course not," Rodney said, sitting back down as the voiceover wondered if there'd be anything good left at the mess by the time this had finished. "You guys heard that, right?"

"Are you hearing voices again, Rodney?" Only Elizabeth could hide sarcasm so well.

"You don't hear that?" It was clear from the blank and confused faces that they hadn't and didn't. "If I say I am hearing voices, can I go to Carson and leave you to finish this entrancing meeting without me?"

"No, Rodney," Elizabeth said and John's grin was pure schadenfreude. "But I'm sure you could see Carson afterwards, if you want."

Sighing, Rodney settled an elbow on the coffee table and nodded along to talk of burial rites and naming ceremonies. There had to be a logical explanation. Possibly this had nothing to do with the PA system and Radek's bruised pride; Rodney wasn't discounting that possibly entirely, but it seemed unlikely that Teyla would carry a jest so far.

So, facts.

Until proven otherwise, Rodney was still sane but he was hearing noises that no-one else could. There was only one voice -- male, american, the type heard on many TV ads -- and it couldn't be an alien entity trying to communicate. There were too many distinctly Earth-related references, like the "But where's the kaboom? There's supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom!" Unless it was a very strange type of code, Rodney doubted it was a conscious form of communication at all.

Then the voice started speaking Rodney's language. It started narrating equations. Rodney scribbled them down, suddenly hopeful that it would make sense. It did, in the random, odd way that this entire morning had made sense. It was high-school level physics: distance and force, momentum and torque.

Trying to anticipate the next line of the equation became a game. He could follow the calculations, but trying to guess how one equation linked to another was harder. Every so often he listened for Elizabeth's voice -- "the importance of livestock..." -- but the last half hour of the meeting was spent sketching possibilities. He had two pages was covered with curves and lines before he saw the truth of it.

Rodney looked over at John, but John was nodding, attention completely focused on Elizabeth.

It was a Ferris Wheel, built to very small proportions. It would work, too, with a decent sized battery-powered motor. They'd probably be able to make it out of scraps left at the lab.

The team suddenly stood up, and Rodney realized the meeting was finally over. He was still puzzling over the rough schematics as Teyla and Ronon left, and then he understood.

He understood because John hovered over his shoulder and tapped Rodney's rough sketch. The voiceover said, "Cool! Weird, but cool."

As John said, "Weird, I was just thinking about that."

Horror was Rodney's first reaction, followed by disbelief and a grudging respect for the inventive ways that Fate liked to mess with him. He was about to open his mouth and tell John, but he wasn't sure what he'd tell him. Was John receiving it as subconscious suggestions and only Rodney could hear it as a specific voice? Was John actually being controlled by some outside force? Or most horrifying of all, were they suddenly sharing random bursts of telepathy?

Rodney tested that last one by thinking very hard at John. He repeated one message -- If you can hear this, say the word 'elephant' -- concentrating clearly on each word.

John blinked and said, "If the wind changes, your face will stay that way. Now are you coming to lunch?"

The voiceover just laughed.

It looked like this weird voice in his head wasn't going to lead to complete personal embarrassment. That was almost comforting.