TEST DRIVE MEME #4

[sailmods]

1. you will survive being bested

[you wake up.

it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.

the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:

Dear Passenger(s),

As your cruise director, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard the Serena Eterna, your destination for fun and adventure! We know you could have chosen any cruise line for your vacation, and we're very grateful you chose ours! On behalf of the Captain, I would like to assure each and every passenger that will we do whatever it takes to fulfill all your needs and desires during your journey with us.

At your earliest possible convenience, please attend the mandatory lifeboat drill by the end of the day. I'm sure everyone is very eager to get started on all the fun and sun, but safety always comes first! You can find your life jacket in your cabin's closet; carry it to your assigned muster station on deck one, where I will take you through the drill. If you can't find me in the crowd, just look for the gal with the winning smile!

See You Real Soon!

Sincerely,
Gal Friday

you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.

you see someone in uniform near the front of the crowd. she seems to be a gal, but is missing the winning smile, along with most of her other features. she seems to see you, though, rushing to your side and placing a lei around your neck with great formality. a voice, cheery but artificial, sees to come from nowhere and everywhere.]

Welcome! We're... I'm very glad to have you aboard!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.

after the drill is completed, you are seemingly free to go. or, well, your legs work, now. and maybe that's as good as it's gonna get.]

2. think about how many times I have fallen

[for the most part, no one has given the elevators much thought. they've all done their job reliably and dutifully this entire time, never so much as being blocked off for maintenance.

until today, when the doors close behind you as you enter, and don't open again.

for the most part, that's all that happens. the doors can't be pried open, or broken with force or magic, and though the glass walls remain stubbornly shatterproof, you can look through them and try to get the attention of anyone outside. (Friday, down in the atrium, sees your desperately pounding fists and gives a wave, but does nothing else.) the elevators don't move... except, when they do. going up two or three stories, and then dropping, sometimes as many as five stories at a time, stopping just as suddenly.]

3. it was the easiest thing to do

["physically assaulting people is an easy way to get attention" was probably a very bad lesson for the neglected locations to have learned, but it they did it anyway.

this time, it's the sushi restaurant on the promenade, Mikabo. it turns out, the conveyor belt can go faster than one would assume. much faster, actually, with the apparently ability to stop on a dime. both of these factors have combined to create what is functionally a pitching machine, but for dragon rolls, wads of wasabi paste, and exceedingly sharp steak knives, all of which are being aimed at anyone foolish enough to walk by the doors of the restaurant without coming in.

its aim, at the very least, doesn't seem to be the best. for now. because it very much seems like it's getting better.]

Comments

Re: Food Fight!

[be_seeing_you]

With one meaty brow raised, he eyes this newcomer. But he doesn't move as he's told. No, he stays stock still in place, a slow mistrustful glare coming into his expression.

"What's the meaning of this?"

The look of distrust on his face turns to one of open shock the moment he sees that... what is that? Is it some sort of gun fused right into this man's arm?

"Who are you?" he demands to know. "What is that on your arm?"

[serialskiller]

"You seriously want to stand here, ask questions, and be hit by fish knives?" At least the next object the conveyor belt pelts them with is simply a California roll, but there's more where that came from. Murderbot is going to make an attempt to stop it by shooting the belt, though.

That counts as an answer to 'what is that on your arm?', right? The red beam pew-pews out, striking the belt but not stopping it.

[be_seeing_you]

It answers one question but leads to several more. Because that display looked like something out of a science-fiction feature film.

He remains unmoved. "Yes. I do. And I want answers. Starting with who you are and where this place is. I'm not going to be intimidated by flying dinnerware."

[serialskiller]

"You can want in one hand and shit in the other, and see which fills up first."

Murderbot rolls its eyes, firing another shot at the conveyor belt. This time, it manages to hit a knife the machine was about to fling, kicking it back over the side. "At least let's get away from the haunted sushi bar before I start answering questions."

It starts edging its way down the promenade, trying to get out of range of Mikabo's attacks.

[be_seeing_you]

He wrinkles his nose in disgust at such open vulgarity. That's something he's not used to hearing, let alone from strangers.

"Fine," he spits. Grudgingly moving to follow, staying behind his strange savior if for no other reason than to stay out of direct firing range.

"So what's your name, anyway? Sunday?"

[serialskiller]

It gets the joke, but doesn't show any sign of appreciating it.

"You can call me Rin or you can call me SecUnit. I don't care which you use." And that's totally not an answer to the question of what its name is, but it is a test of sorts. Most people flinch away from calling it SecUnit because they find it dehumanizing.

[be_seeing_you]

"No number?" He asks, both brows going up. That's the part he finds more surprising given where he's come from. He still doesn't believe this isn't some trick of The Village to get him to break.

[serialskiller]

"What, you want to call me by my serial number?" Murderbot's not sure whether it should be offended by that question or not. It scoffs quietly, glancing to make sure there's not going to be any more cutlery coming toward them. "Sure. Preservation SecUnit R-613314, if that makes you happy."

[be_seeing_you]

"It doesn't." But Number 6 doesn't look like much will make him happy, in all fairness.

This does bring an obvious and yet... unconventional question to mind. Serial numbers go on things like guns. This man(?) has a gun IN his arm.

"What are you?"

[serialskiller]

"A security cyborg construct. I'm guessing you're from a primitive world that never decided to merge dangerous machinery and cloned human tissue to make things like me, huh?"

Which like, good on any world that hadn't resorted to such things yet.

[be_seeing_you]

"You expect me to believe you are a construct of both man and machine?" He also takes umbrage at the suggestion of his world being primitive. Or, the suggestion that they do not come from the same world at all, but one thing at a time.

"For all I know that's nothing but a prop on your arm and this has all been some elaborate ruse to prove some point I can't begin to fathom. Next, you will be telling me we are in the future and there are flying cars."

[serialskiller]

"You know, I really don't give a damn what you believe. But at some point, the exercise of asking me questions becomes futile if you're not going to accept the answers at all."

Murderbot huffs quietly. "And flying cars have been around in my universe since before we left Earth."

[be_seeing_you]

"This is really too much." Flying cars? Impossible.

"You could have at least made your story sound remotely believable. Go back to Number 2 and tell him or her to send someone with some manners to interrogate me next time."

[serialskiller]

"You're the one who's been interrogating me, here." It pulls the sleeve of its hoodie back down over its energy weapon. "And I don't know who Number 2 is."

[be_seeing_you]

"Don't you?" The contemptuous lilt in his voice makes it clear Number 6 still doesn't believe it.

"No, I suppose here our mysterious leader is going by a different name. We are, as I understand it, on a boat now instead of in a Village. I suppose you can't tell me where we are, either?"

[serialskiller]

"On a fake ocean made by a captain who doesn't know or doesn't care about how oceans work."

It shrugs. "There's a lot that's fake around here. The ship has no radar or comms, there's no satellites above us, the restaurants have no kitchens. It's all a lot of bullshit."

[be_seeing_you]

"Comforting. Some things haven't changed." The fake everything isn't new.

But, again, his nose is wrinkling. "Must you use such language?"

[serialskiller]

"I don't have to, but I like to."

It frowns faintly, looking off to one side. "For most of my existence, I couldn't swear, or choose my own words in general. I was programmed to be polite, service-oriented. Now, I can choose whatever words I want."

[be_seeing_you]

He's not saying he believes all this, but he'll play along for now. He can't deny that this explanation touches some sympathy in him.

"What were you created to do?"

[serialskiller]

"Security. I was leased out by an insurance company to guard mining installations and planetary survey projects." Because that's one way to protect assets and personnel, send a cyborg with them.

"What's your purpose?" It's a bit of a jab, since it's answered so many questions for him already.

[be_seeing_you]

He hardly knows what to think of that answer. Planetary surveys? It really is a load of science fiction. But the jab raises a smile out of him. Well, it's more of a sneer, but close.

"To gain my freedom. Simply put."

[serialskiller]

"Good luck with that." It comes out less barbed than might be expected. No, no one is truly going to find freedom on this ship. But.

...there is more space for self-discovery than Murderbot's ever had before.

[be_seeing_you]

That response doesn't surprise him, but the tone does a little. Usually, when he states such intentions, he's met with adamant insistence that he should simply give up and conform. Maybe they are learning.

"Rin, was it? You spoke of finding more personal freedom, to say what you wish. Surely you don't mean you got that freedom here on this farce of a ship?"

[serialskiller]

"More freedom than when I was in the custody of the company that created me, with a governor module fused to my spine that would literally kill me if I got more than 100 meters from my clients? Yes. Actual freedom, no."

There's a little bit of information held back here; it disabled its governor module before arriving here, and continued to work while hiding its condition as a rogue unit.

[be_seeing_you]

"It strikes me as incredibly cruel that you would be created, seemingly, with a will of your own only to never be given a choice in the matter. Such an implant is nothing short of barbaric." But not something he would put it past the leaders of The Village to have done.

"If what you say is true, then I suppose I cannot fault you for finding this place the lesser of evils."