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TEST DRIVE MEME #8
1. but times have changed for sailors these days
[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! I'm so happy you could join us!
[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. tried to amend my carnivorous habit
[the space inside John's where the piano normally sits is mysteriously vacant today. as a matter of fact, the entire piano bar is silent, without so much as a muzak-inspired interpretation of Uptown Girl to hum along to.
the piano itself seems to have disappeared... for the most part. unlucky, unsuspecting passengers who enter the cabin hallway, step out onto the lower decks, or find themselves in one of the other narrow corridors of the ship, may find themselves suddenly facing down a silent, unmoving grand piano. it takes up too much space to squeeze by comfortably...
and then, the cover lifts, exposing what looks to be... teeth?
yeah. yeah, those are its teeth. and it's coming right for you.]
3. that American creation on which I feed
[it had been a difficult October for bahamanuel, the bahamanal. its territory had changed utterly, becoming alien and strange. new predators were encroaching on its hunting grounds. its position in the natural order is under threat. and so, nature finds a way.
the old timers know to be wary of large piles of clothes, but even they won’t think to look twice at the tiny lumps of garish kids’ swimsuits and sundresses - until they feel something latch onto their leg, and then several more things, and anywhere from ten to twenty balled up clothes piles try to take down their prey.
the young must learn how to hunt, after all.]
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Lyubov frowns at the description of insurance.
"We used to have that, I think?" she says, "well, like, we didn't, they wouldn't like, sell something like that to the Jews what lived in the Talons. But like," she suddenly beams; her front teeth are a little crooked, but whole and white — one incisor is a little whiter than the others, that's the one what has a veneer, "we took care of all of that! Eventually. I was like, never formally part of the Nostalgines, but I was at the barricades in the month of Febrile, and I was at the barricades half a decade later." She omits the other thing she did for the Revolution, since nu, well — it's not just her accomplishment. His husband and her khavrusa were there too. "Uhm, anyway. I'm glad thou need'st not pay, but I'm sorry it exists."
As for the ghosts ... Lyubov shrugs.
"We have not so many, nu?" she says. "Not like ... excessive amounts. Nyura, uh, my husband, he's a medical necromancer? He only has to make the ghost kinda medical visit maybe once a week. 'Tis hardly the man-eaters—" she cuts off and frowns. "I did not mean to say that. I meant to say something else. Uh. Well, like. Ghosts are not ... tuberculosis. They happen not daily, but they occur."
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She stops to lean against a nearby railing, suddenly remembering where she is and how very, very unstable the ground feels. "Might we head inside the ship somewhere, Lyubov? I can't speak for thee, but my sea legs certainly haven't come in yet."
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"Oh! Of course, of course," Lyubov says. "Need'st thou help walking? I ... well, I've got the one free arm, and I'm quite steady these days ... but whither shall we go? Hast thou any like, preferences? Allergies?"
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"Bookshop, bookshop," Lyubov says, tapping her walking stick on the floor, thinking. "I think we ought to walk around and see, nu? I've seen no libraries, at least— okay like, nu. No public libraries. There may be private collections, but I've been introduced to none of their curators." She smiles at Goldenglow. "Thou'rt right, nu? Horror is a great diversion. To read and to write both."
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She readjusts her grip on her staff and gets ready to move: the waves feel like they've calmed a bit, or maybe she's just adjusted to them. "Thou writest, as well? Th'art quite a busy one!"