2014.03.03 - Beauty in Data

It wasn't that Doug Ramsey wasn't a first-class nerd. He did have diversified interests. But his interests ran muchly towards pop culture, and towards gaming, tinkering with software, and jamming along to music.
But a chance remark the other day from a friend had reminded him that there -was- something- to the notion that language could be art, and art could be language.
And the notion was intriguing enough, one that he'd brought up to perhaps the one person who -might- get a notion of how it would feel.
Because Rogue (Doug somehow didn't feel -free- to just use her name, hence the constant "miss" or "Rogue") had a sense of how it'd felt for just a moment to speak different languages, and to get a feel for how to read Doug's body language, he'd just asked her to get coffee and get a feel for it.
Walking along the streets, however, Doug had yet to offer her a hand. Perhaps it was nerves, because he hadn't -asked- her- out, just discused a thought and then asked if she wanted to give it a shot... and th en didn't -dare- touch her lest she immediately read him to get a sense hw nervous he might be about it... (although she had eyes enough that she could probably read it just fine anyway...)
But now, approaching closer to the heart of the city, Doug takes a deep breath. "So... ready?"
Rogue was finishing up her work when Doug invited her out to the city. She accepted of course, the last time she went out with him and some of the other X-Factor guys she had a good time.
While out in the still winter weather, Rogue was dressed in a simple grey knit dress, with green leggings and brown combat boots. Over the dress she wore a red and black flannel jacket with a hood and simple black leather gloves.
Currently she was walking next to Doug, seemingly oblivious mostly to him being nervous or at least assumed it was strained breathing in the cold. She had her hands in her front pockets and nodded, "Sug' I'm always ready."
Clad in a blue sweater/tan pants combination with a thick blue winter parka over it by contrast, Doug looked more like a preppie. Not that he minded terribly, as he smiles, removing the mitten from his glove and offering his hand to hold. It might look all too comfortable...
And then when touch came, so too did a rush of information.
It wasn't as though Doug's language ability had changed tremendously, but the -understanding- of it had, as Doug had been trying to see the world a little bit more differently than the sheltered gaming life afterwards.
And so while the noise of the city had henceforth seemed to be a dull roar, suddenly the City sang. It was a steady hum, as though saying, cars here, coming.
The steam from the city said 'heat here, water here'.
Musicians played their street music, speaking of both love for their music, and just a touch of desperation in seeking out recompense for their suffering for their art.
Pigeons cooed, scuttering back and forth between feet... and their movements spoke of lack of fear and greedy at the crumbs being left behind...
The City spoke many languages. All that was required... was to open one's eyes and ears.
Rogue blinked her eyes as she returned her glove back onto her hand and looked about the area with a small grin on her face, "Almost forgot how much of an information overload this all is. Kinda like a caffeine high while browsing Wikipedia."
The musicians on the street were from closer to her nick of the woods, New Orleans but still not too far away. She could read it from the way they specifically played the music, in the language. She quickly made her way over to them and tossed a fifty dollar bill. She's no longer in less money troubles, and they were singin' the blues she knew all too well previously.
Eyebrows raised, Doug grins. His body language no longer seemed terribly nervous now. In fact, there was a certain comfortable joy in watching Rogue get a feel for it.
The multitude of information here and there was like surfing through channels of music, if one were actually listening to it. It could be turned on or off, but it could be focused on, a channel selected, and a melody listening. It all depended on where one looked.
Graffiti littered the wall. Some of it was hobo-language, pointing this way towards shelter or warning them off. Others... were words, taken at face value. But at the same time, the way the words were done, were in themselves art.
And true graphitti murals? They could be broken down into -information- as well. A face behind chains - frustration. The city itself portrayed in buildings once proud? A desire to return to yesteryear.
At which point -did- language become art?
"Um.... what are you seeing?" Doug asks, not quite sure, as passerbys moved around him or bumped into him. And even the traffic pattern was screaming 'get out of the way'. A hot dog vendor stood, his body language clearly screaming 'Buy something!'
Rogue let down her hood as she focused on one thing at a time, or at least tried to. She waved off the hot dog vendor, having recently ate, "It's all about a series of wants and needs ain't it?"
In particular though the graffiti caught her interest. Some of it was art for art's sake, and others information and art. "It's incredible. Bet you never need anyone to tell you what a paintin' means. Or at least, you'd have your own kinda tour. Doesn't this all give you a headache though, or are you used to it?"
"I don't know," Doug shakes his head. "It's just... you understand it, or you don't. It's like you have the television on and you're working on something else, and it fades out till you look at it again."
Previous attempts might have been instructive - although wandering from restaurant to restaurant trying to get samplers of different languages -was- fun early on.
And if Rogue had a sense of how Doug thought, she could probably sort through the memories somewhat. It -was- a brief touch, though...
But then an idea came to mind, a naughty one. She reached out and grabbed at his arm, "Let's make this power of yers /real/ handy. C'mon."
A couple more twists and turns through the city, and suddenly they didn't look like they were in the best of the city's neighborhoods. "This'll be fun."
Some how Rogue always wound up in bars. She smirked when they got inside. Fairly typical bar, lots of bikers and tough types. She gestured towards the inside and spoke somewhat quietly, "Pick yer poison, pool or poker. Bet you could get a real good read of things, and people."
Talk about a room full of wants, everyone in that room wanted something. Looking at Rogue, and her body language she had a want herself; excitement. And beer. While Doug contemplated she grabbed them a couple of pints of whatever was on draft.
At first bemused, Doug follows along. But the rougher neighborhood was interesting - and Doug certainly wasn't dressed for the area. For that matter, neither was Rogue - one would have bet that they hadn't seen a woman in a dress in the bar for a very long time.
Given the nature of things, Doug's reaction was simple: "Rogue, really?" before sighing. "Poker."
Of course, the eyeing the bikers were doing was pretty much oriented towards Rogue, and it didn't really take much to figure what was on their minds, did it? Still, when Doug moved up to the poker table, there was an incredulous look as Doug asks, "Do you mind if the lady and I play?"
A couple of minutes later Rogue came back with two pints. With his powers still bouncing around in her mind she knew plenty what the men and women in the bar's body language was. For one thing she could sort out who was actually from the area and from all over. But mostly she was used to this kind of place.
With a smile to the group she pulled up a chair and squeezed into the table, tossing off her jacket to sit behind her seat, "Deal us in gentlemen, if y'all don't mind of course."
She gave a look to Doug that suggested keeping it cool, and held her cards towards the table to communicate laying it low. If they both won too much they would look suspicious.
Category:Log