dollpocalypse: (!?: i KNOW crazy right)

As a 24-year-old boy genius with two PhDs under his belt, Topher didn't find it difficult to line up job interviews that interested him. For the most part, they were all the same: interesting at first when they tried to woo him, but then inevitably also boring; nothing could hold his interest past the second round of getting-to-know-you bullshit.

But then there was this one place in L.A. where he had made it through three decreasingly cryptic rounds of interviewing before he even learned the scope of the job, and the paperwork he'd had to sign before even being offered a final tour of the office was ridiculous. But Topher didn't need an easy hiring process and, in fact, didn't want one. Based on what he knew of the job, the song-and-dance was worth it. So he showed up to the tour with his hair combed and wearing a too-large grey jacket that vaguely resembled the top part of a suit. By the end of the day, he was going to have a job as chief programmer at an underground facility that rewrote people's minds.

Read more... )

{from dollhouse 1x13, epitaph one. not for broadcast because of location, of course!}

dollpocalypse: (bfflz: with printy sierra (haunted))
The cool thing about one guy quitting on "moral grounds" right after the flyers had gone out about Take Your Daughter to Work Day was this: Topher now had said scientist's office for the rest of the summer. It was a little too fancy-schmancy for him, and it could use a fridge and a trampoline and maybe some posters of superheroes and cats hanging off of , but it was a place to hang out that wasn't the conference room when the team was working on "intern-unfriendly" (i.e., high-clearance-level) projects in the labs.
Also, his chair was insanely comfortable.
When he got a call from Billy in the middle of the day, Topher was pretty excited about the opportunity to show off his new digs, so his response to Billy's weirdly-worded request to stop by was a resounding "Duh." Making out in an office was supposed to be hot, right? He just... might want to turn off the surveillance feed out of his office first.

Vital testing apparatus disabled.


[[for the reality warper, and NFB for distance, please! thread may contain mentions of what amounts to dubcon.]]
dollpocalypse: (!?: oh hey whassat)
"And this," Topher said, swiping his ID badge against the sensor on the door that he and Victor had just arrived at, "is the surveillance room. For watching the test subjects mess up and stuff. It's kind of also a break room, 'cause most of us eat in there and there's a fridge and a popcorn popper, but its technical purpose is surveillance."

The badge sensor was lighting up red instead of green, and Topher frowned, swiping his card again. When it lit up red again, he paused and just tried the handle. It opened.

"Guess it isn't locked." Darn. He'd felt really cool swiping his badge everywhere. "Anyway, here it is."

The room did look a lot like a break room, in that it had a number of couches and it smelled like coffee, but the flatscreen video monitor that all the couches were facing was showing a feed of a flustered-looking thirty-something man in an orange jumpsuit firing portals at a wall. Most break rooms didn't have that kind of entertainment.

"So yeah," Topher said, flopping on a couch to watch. "Questions, comments, concerns? Want popcorn?"

[[for victor!]]
dollpocalypse: (conv: surveying my handiwork)
Topher had two main things that he was doing today, because doing only one thing at a time was boring and something only stupid people did, in his opinion. First, he was melting down turret bullets, a very precise process that involved wearing gloves and goggles in addition to his usual lab coat -- both very obviously awesome additions to his ensemble. And secondly, and somewhat related to that one, he had discovered Instagram, which was popular with the other Aperture R&D technicians probably on the basis that they could make their pictures look just vague enough to not break any rules by posting them.

So, new Instagram user cbrain was now posting a lot of very ugly-looking, green-filtered pictures of test tubes full of liquid with the name on the side of the tubes blurred out. And somehow, he was acquiring followers with impressive speed.

It was one of those days where Topher was genuinely amazed that he was only a rising senior in high school. That had more to do with his first task than the second one, but internet fame was impressive too.

Also he was controlling the lab playlist for the first time. An intimidating task, to be sure, but he'd eventually just gone with meta for wookie noises. Everyone loved them.

[[I really wanted to do an Aperture post with this icon because I'm legitimately horrible. Open for calls and such! Mod your instagrammy pictures of vagueness.]]
dollpocalypse: (tech: computer)
So far, Topher was enjoying his summer.

For one thing, he was being challenged intellectually, which was basically paradise, and he got to enjoy said paradise in a lab coat, which made it even better than it already was. His colleagues thought he was brilliant, if rude, which was true, so Topher didn't mind. And even though his supervisor had rejected his request for a mini-fridge full of Yoo-Hoo and which would only open to his own thumbprint, the lab setup wasn't bad: it was very far underground, which was awesome, and the air-conditioning was always cranked to a temperature very close to freezing, which was even better.

Though there were some awkward things that had happened, like when Topher had been fined a few hundred dollars for sending Warren that companion cube. And for some reason, at the last board meeting, the rest of the R&D team had vetoed Topher's suggestion for turrets that could verbally insult the test subjects on the grounds of that being "excessively abusive."

Pfft. Amateurs.

All in all, though, Topher kind of felt like a king at this place. A very low-ranking king who wasn't being paid, mind. But still. It was nice.

[[open for calls and stuff!]]


dollpocalypse: (Default)

September 2015

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