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TEST DRIVE MEME #4

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.]
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Which like, good on any world that hadn't resorted to such things yet.
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"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."
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Murderbot huffs quietly. "And flying cars have been around in my universe since before we left Earth."
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"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."
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"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?"
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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."
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But, again, his nose is wrinkling. "Must you use such language?"
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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."
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"What were you created to do?"
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"What's your purpose?" It's a bit of a jab, since it's answered so many questions for him already.
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"To gain my freedom. Simply put."
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...there is more space for self-discovery than Murderbot's ever had before.
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"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?"
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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.
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"If what you say is true, then I suppose I cannot fault you for finding this place the lesser of evils."
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"Doesn't mean this place still isn't a fuck."
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"Now, what else can you tell me about this ship?"
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"What are your theories on how that could be remotely possible?"
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It may not be surprising that there's a look of distaste on its face when it mentions the Captain's control over Friday. There's a lot of sympathy it has for her.
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It doesn't escape his notice, the way Murderbot's expression rankles concerning Friday. He can take a guess as to why. Rather than shy away from the topic, he presses it.
"Speaking of our apparent hostess, does she always look that way?" Having no facial features, he means.
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It shakes its head. "Sometimes I wish I could do more for her. But I don't know how."
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"You've mentioned excursions. As in going off this ship? Do we land in ports?"
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It had not been a fun time for anyone involved. Except maybe the assholes. Max, Ebalon, people who relished an excuse for such wildness.
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