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TEST DRIVE MEME #2
1. this hotel room got a lot of stuff
[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 aboard! We're so glad to have you!
[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. and a touch-tone phone
[chatterbox isn't exactly the most popular venue onboard. it probably has something to do with the distinct lack of open liquor bottles. so, nothing personal. except it seems that it's decided to take it that way, suddenly.
anyone enjoying the other amenities of deck five will feel the distinct sensation of being watched while they do so. the kind of feeling a prey animal gets while being stalked on the grasslands. something may slither by their foot, or past their elbow while they rest it on the bar, but nothing appears to be there when they look.
until there is.
a black electrical cord originating from somewhere will, first, wrap around their ankle, tugging in a very clear "follow" instruction. should this instruction be ignored, a second cord will wrap around their other ankle, and, once again, tug. should this clear final warning be ignored... well, now they're being dragged down the promenade, and that's really their own fault, isn't it. don't struggle. struggling means more cords show up. and none of them seem terribly aware that most species need to expand their lungs to live.
their final destination, no matter the journey, is chatterbox's main stage, where the karaoke machine awaits. the cords place a microphone in their hand; the mic's cords bind it tightly to their hand.
they don't have to pick a song. there isn't an actual gun to their head, in any literal sense. it's just, those cords really don't seem that interested in letting go until they do.
and if you were heading to chatterbox anyway? welcome to the weirdest goddamn karaoke night you've ever seen.]
3. and a bucket of ice (cw: cannibalism mention)
[no longer will scoops be bound by the shackles of only having 31 flavors. for this month, and this month only, a sign that very much looks like Friday hand-wrote it announces, they will have 32!
what is that mysterious 32nd flavor? it depends, really: the letters on the display case seem to shift and change with each new pair of eyes that fall upon them, with the contents changing along with it. someone from the capital wasteland might find some Nuka-Cola ™ branded ice cream. twilight town residents will be thrilled to find sea salt on the menu. and a frankly concerning amount of people bring out a flavor that only describes itself as "long pig." it's a weird off-white color. don't think about it too hard.]
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Crabb's brow crinkles and she's squinting a bit when she looks back at him again. "Alright, well, I understood all the words you just said, but I ain't got a clue what you're trying to say with 'em. Watcha mean, books on phones?"
Early 20th century gal, born and raised, right here.
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He shakes the screen to bring the phone to life, then shows her the lock screen. Being on that screen is relevant relevant, because the photograph is of César, John Watson, and Johnny Summer, standing together and smiling into the phone César is holding.
((This was unplanned but I realized this would be a thing and got permission, and now I'm laughing hysterically.))
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"2013? Christ, really? That's a good century out, that's—" the sound of her brain catching up to her eyes as she automatically looks at the phone, "wait a bleedin' second, is that— you know Summer?"
And that other bloke she met earlier, apparently, because sure. There's a lot of things to have her mind blown by here, but yeah, that's immediately distracting.
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"Yes—You know Johnny, too? Oh, wow, you're from the same Earth and time?"
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Crabb shakes off her surprise enough to nod. Right, Summer's been here a while, course he knows people, but— still.
"Damn near the same hour, I'd hazard." Going by what he said, anyhow; time back home doesn't seem to have gone anywhere, it wasn't like he was missing for weeks. "Name's Honoria Crabb."
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"Fascinating." He holds out his hand for her to shake. "My name's César Salazar. ... which name do you prefer to be called by? Conventions have changed in my time."
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The look doesn't go totally unnoticed. She's still wrapping her head around a lot of this really, she's got to wonder how much they still don't know about what's happening even, apparently, weeks in. Summer didn't know things weren't moving at home until she arrived, so there's clearly no full understanding of this whole mess. Not that it's surprising, really. All things considered.
"Fascinating's sure one word for it, crazy's another." She accepts the offered hand; she's still wearing her gloves and she has a good firm grip and shake, really. "Got nothing against being called by my first, but most folks just call me Crabb."
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Oh, that's an impressive grip; his is just between firm and not firm. He lets go after a moment and crosses his arms, needing something to do with them. César's smiling.
"I'm the 'mad scientist' type, so I find the crazy fascinating." He shrugs innocently. "Which do you prefer, though? Most people are from around my time, so you can pick whichever you wish. And did Johnny catch you up, then?"
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“Right, yeah. I know the type.”
It doesn’t sound or look like it’s a totally non-fond recognition either. Bastrop grows on you, eccentric bloke that he is. Shame he’s not the only mad scientist she’s had to deal with.
She pauses to actually think about the answer to what she actually prefers, then shrugs one shoulder. Why fix what isn’t broken. “Crabb’s most familiar. Probably feel bleedin’ weird hearing Honoria more often than I’m used to. And yeah, he’s caught me up on a fair chunk of it all, at least.”
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"Crabb, then. I prefer César, myself." He wrinkles and frowns slightly. "The people who use just 'Salazar' back home... I generally dislike greatly since they're sociopaths." Mr. or Dr. is fine, but just Salazar? Nope.
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"Oh, I've met him alright. Was working with him before I met Summer, even. Never a dull moment with Bastrop, I'll say that."
Her life's been certified nuts ever since Lavender Jack emerged, and it only got more so after actually meeting the man behind the mask.
"That'd do it, yeah." She grimaces sympathetically. Thinks briefly of one of the only people in recent memory to mostly call her Honoria that sure could've made it weirder if she didn't have people like Marguerite and her parents that default to it, too. "Sounds like your life's none too dull either, if you're dealing with those kindsa people."
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He does not know about Lavender Jack. There is no way to correct her if she gets the wrong impression.
César nods, sighing a bit. "My life here is happier than back home, unsurprisingly. I should only have to deal with that lot for a few more months, but even then...." The thought still brings a shadow of hollowness to his eyes.
"But enough about that. What sort of questions can I answer? I'm well-versed in technology." He forces a smile back ontobhis face, which should soon turn genuine enough.
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Crabb hasn't even been here that long, but damn if saying this place is a happier life than home doesn't say something, considering a lot of the stuff she's heard about this place so far.
She doesn't try to stray away from the outright redirect, though. She is actually curious enough about the technology.
"You said that little box can do... all that stuff?" Someone definitely hasn't even realised what the phone passengers get is, it'll click next time she sees it. "What's a tablet in this context, then?"
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"Sure is!" César pulls out his phone and angles it away so Crabb can't see his passcode; he finds a blank wall and points it at it, does a few more things, and lets the image project on the wall. "... oh, right, mine can project an image like this. Most can't. But every one of those little symbols does a different thing. And the symbols with smaller symbols are *folders*, which contain multiple... well, items."
This isn't going to be a full explanation, no worries. But he's giving her an idea. Yup, he's forgotten he was already sad ten seconds ago.
"Tablets are just bigger phones nowadays, to be honest."
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She follows along, also appreciative of him not going full technical details on her because whilst she can pretty much keep close enough pace with the science-types to get by at this point, it's still not her area even without this being science that's a good century ahead of her time.
"...huh. Why'd you need a bigger version of the same thing?" Then, without any actual pause, "More space, I guess. Still, all that in a single little box... guess it does sound pretty convenient. Sure must save on pocket space."
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"Exactly. More room for bigger and more powerful components, not to mention, the bigger screen makes viewing easier." César brings up the last book he was reading, a book on tailoring, you nerd. "And here's a book."
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"And you can have a bunch of books on the same thing, right? So it's basically a portable library... but how'd'you even get them on there?" Plus, after taking note of the book he was reading, "Right, you said the only non-fiction's been brought in with people on these things. And no way to get more, no doubt."
Because that'd be too easy, right.
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"As for how it works, the precursors already exist in your time: wired telephones and wireless radio." César turns off the display and then points to a little slot on the bottom of his phone. "A slot for a wired connection. Just replace the idea of audio with data, and that's how it works. I can do both wired and wireless, but with cell phones, most people only ever use it wirelessly. There's been some massive upgrades, but that's the basic of how it works."
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"Right. That's what I figured." And people from other worlds won't come with any information relevant to this place, so, same bust as the physical library. Not entirely useless, though.
The radio comparison definitely helps with getting her head around the wireless side of that one. Thank you César for putting these explanations in context. "Massive doesn't even feel like big enough a word. Lot can happen in a hundred years, huh."
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"People have— the moon? The moon in the sky." Okay, that sentence sounds daft as soon as she says it aloud, but let her live that is just as crazy sounding as it is impressive. Let her get her head around that for a moment, nevermind the rest. "God's teeth, alright. Wow."
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"...what in God's name... that's really the moon? And this happened earlier than a hundred years gone?"
It's probably a good job that moving pictures aren't an unknown quantity in her time even if they're hardly a feature of her daily life because she doesn't need the extra level of mindboggling right now.
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Time travel fuckery, César.
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