sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #5

1. not subtle revealings

[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! 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. a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling

[the reflections are missing. all of them. in mirrors. in television screens. on the backs of spoons. nothing looks back at you.

then, figures do show up. not your own, like you'd expect. thin, wispy apparitions, people with pleading eyes and hands, reaching out to place their palms against the surface, from their own end. faces familiar and not, beckoning, mouthing words you just can't quite make out. help me, it might be. get me out, perhaps. just until you're close enough, until your skin warms the surface of whatever it is you're peering into. and then, those same hands wrap, all too real, burning-cold against your flesh, and pull, trying to drag you through the surface, making up for their lack of strength with desperation. any flesh unlucky enough to enter the reflection comes back bone-white and cold, all sensation dead, though it will fade within a few hours.

in retrospect, it looks a bit more like they were saying something different. something more like, better you than me. or maybe it's not even words at all. they look a bit more like they're laughing.]

3. complex mementos

[but, hey. sometimes changes are good! like, today, in Playback, there's a brand-new game available for all the children to play! it's an old-fashioned sort of claw machine, the type that's so large, a particularly dedicated kindergartner could wriggle their way inside. the prizes vary, and sit loose: bags of candy, stuffed toys, firearms, painfully early-00s electronics, actually that one just looks like a dead iguana, tiny ship-branded knickknacks... like all the other games in the arcade, the game starts up automatically upon being touched; lack of quarters shouldn't keep you from having fun! pro tip: they are loaded, and they will go off if you suck at claw games and let it fall.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Joan sees that face that is like Sherlock's but is not Sherlock's fading back into the dark, silently laughing with a malice that makes her feel sick.

She quickly moves off her rescuer, but not yet to her feet, instead sitting down with her back on the other side of the hallway from the mirror.]

I'm fine. Thank you.

[She looks down and notices her hands and arms halfway up to her elbow are bone white. She tries moving them, and discovers she can't feel them at all.]

What...

[ Malcolm stands and is reaching back to help the woman up off the floor when he notices her arms. ]

Uh.. don't panic. It's hopefully temporary... [ Hopefully. ] We have a doctor here, if it doesn't go away.

[ Said doctor is from the 1800s, but it's better than no doctor, Malcolm figures. ]

[Joan is concentrating on remaining calm as she looks at the corpse-like flesh on her arms, so she answers a little absent-mindedly.]

I'm a doctor.

[Wait. No. She shakes her head a little and looks up to correct herself.]

Sorry. Used to be a doctor.

[ 'Used to be'? ]

Even doctors need doctors sometimes, though our doctor is a little bit out of date. You might be more qualified if you're from the 21st century. Is that when you're from?

[ Malcolm's trying to distract her, hoping that the corpse-white flesh will start to go away on its own. ]

[He draws her attention with that last bit. She looks up, brow faintly furrowed.]

When I'm from? What do you mean?

[ Shit. She's really new. This probably isn't the time to hit her with the fact that there are people here from different places and times. ]

Uh. Why don't I take you to the infirmary? My name's Malcolm.

[ He offers her his hand so that he can help her along. ]

I'm Joan.

[Joan doesn't take his hand, though.]

Who runs the infirmary?

[If it's the same people...well, "people"...who seem to be running the ship, she's not sure she wants to go.]

[ He gives a short laugh. ] Nobody, really. It's kind of self-serve. Sometimes Watson is in there, sometimes he isn't. [ Watson might not be able to help her anyway.

He leads her to the elevator that will take them down to Deck 0. ] I'm sorry. I'm sure you've realized that this isn't a pleasure cruise.

Sorry...did you say Watson?

[It would be really weird if he was actually talking about her somehow...like she's here already or something.]

Yeah. Dr. John Watson. Does... that name sound familiar to you?

[ He's aware of the Sherlock connection, one that Malcolm himself didn't make at first. After all, John Watson is a common name. 'Sherlock', however, is not. ]

John Watson. That's a weird coincidence. I'm Joan Watson. Not a doctor anymore, though.

Huh. [ The two of them ride quietly in the elevator before he turns to her again. ] What about Sherlock Holmes?

[She blinks.]

Sherlock? Is he here??? Where is he???

[ Oh, shit. ]

So... you know Sherlock too? How...?

[ He's confused and he gives Joan a once over. There's an iteration of Watson and Holmes where Watson is an Asian woman? ]

[She blinks.]

Too? Who else knows...

[Her eyes widen.]

Wait...

[ Malcolm opens his mouth and then closes it again. This is a first, even for the ship. ]

Um... Watson... the other Watson, I mean, he worked with Sherlock Holmes on his cases and wrote about them. That's how I'm familiar with him.

[ Is she doing the same? Is she from some weird universe where Sherlock Holmes takes place in the 21st century? ]

[She likewise opens her mouth, then closes it again.]

I work with Sherlock Holmes.

[She slowly shakes her head.]

What the hell is going on?

I'm not sure. [ A beat. ] This place, as I'm sure you've realized, isn't normal. [ Her arms being a pretty good indication of that. ]

Watson and Holmes are from the Victorian Era, at least the ones I'm familiar with.

Yeah, I noticed.

[The idea of Sherlock being from the Victorian era makes her huff a half-amused laugh.]

Oh god, Sherlock would hate that. It's 2019 where I come from.

I'm trying to picture him in 2019. I imagine that he's very different than he is in the books...

[ The elevator pings and the doors open. Malcolm starts to lead her towards the clinic. He hopes that her skin color will return to normal soon, though he knows better than to make any promises here. ]

So you... work homicides, then?

If he's brilliant and insufferable, then it's pretty close. Although I doubt a Victorian Sherlock would have quite the libertarian sexual mores.

[She's actually starting to get feeling back in her hands, which is a relief.]

We do! We work with the NYPD as consultants. And occasionally take a private case here and there.

He was kind of asexual... [ Except for the fans that put Sherlock together with Watson, but Malcolm is definitely not going to mention that to her. ]

Really? I consult with the NYPD as well. I'm a forensic profiler. [ Joan ought to know what that is. She's probably met one before, and chances are she either thinks they're great or she hates them. People tend to be pretty polarizing about his job. ]

Mmm. That makes sense. In the Victorian era it was thought that having sex was detrimental to a man's reason. That's probably why Nicholas Tesla died a virgin, despite having been extremely attractive. Or...they could have just both been asexual.

[When he tells her he consults for the NYPD too she raises her eyebrows, delighted to meet someone else that works with the NYPD. Then he tells her he's a profiler.]

Ahhhhh...I see.

TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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