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TEST DRIVE MEME #3
1. you're the only one you owe (GUEST STARRING:
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selenokinesis and creepyoldguy)[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 Passengers(s),
You'll be unable to leave your cabin until you read this note. Congratulations on making it past the first step. Keep reading if you wish, as I have information to share with you, as a fellow passenger stuck aboard this ship. Or don't continue reading, and burn the note. I'm not particularly invested either way, especially if you choose to throw away valuable warnings.
Watch out for the Captain.
Be cautious what you sign up for.
If you die, you'll come back to life eventually, though I would recommend you try not to die.
Your life is the Captain's plaything.
Do not think for one moment that someone isn't watching you.
With that aside, I am now contractually obligated to tell you the following: You will find a life jacket within your cabin's closet, and you are required to bring it with you to your assigned muster station on deck one. A companion and I will take you through the drill. If you cannot find us, look for a tall male with white hair and blue eyes and a friendly-looking man with unkept brown hair and a winning smile.
Respectfully,
Moon Master Ebalon
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 two people standing at the front of the crowd: an exhausted-looking man with white hair who seems rather displeased that he's been roped into this, and a man with a wide grin, bright green tips on his hair, and amber eyes. the latter is waving cheerfully, having an armful of leis. he quite happily puts them around people’s necks and while they’re distracted, attempts to dip them into a kiss.
as he’s basically a walking corpse, and smells like one to boot, it’s not exactly hitting the jackpot. but, he does at least listen to the word “NO”.
the tired-seeming man ignores this and announces over the drone of chattering passengers like yourself,]
Welcome to the Serena Eterna. Do try to enjoy your stay here; it is rather permanent in nature, huhu.
[and from next to his companion, the… er, overly-affectionate man who sounds as though he smokes ten packs a day rasps,]
You’re all doomed!
[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.
after the duo complete the drill, you'll find that your legs suddenly obey your command, for what that's worth.
welcome aboard, passenger. we hope you enjoy your stay.]
2. one by one they'll do you in
[it starts, as most things do, with a table lamp. floating down a hallway, or the length of the promenade. ambling at a distinct clip: one-two-three-KICK, one-two-three-KICK.
and that's... not immediately concerning. after all, things float around here all the time; usually plates and drinks, but maybe the shades want to mix it up a bit. the lamp is alone for about a half hour before it is joined by others. a pillow. some knickknack from the ship store. Friday's clipboard. an empty vodka bottle. all have lined up, one in front of the other, and lead a procession snaking around the ship, growing with each passing hour. anyone familiar with the concept would begin to recognize it as a massive conga line.
there is a small chance you will want to join of your own free will. most likely, you will not want that. this does not matter: something compels you, like pins and needles in your feet, to join the dance. and once you have joined in... your body fights your mind on the subject, even as it grows more and more tired.
you pass by a familiar face. they could help pull you out. or you could pull them in.]
3. the price of vice foretold
[the scent of citrus and coconut rum hangs heavy in the air. there is a new storefront on the promenade, tucked between Sand Dollars and John's in a place where you are very certain there was not enough space to tuck a store before.
the clothes for sale are... a lot. like, a lot a lot. but, there are quite a lot of choices, though they do seem to repeat a little, once you've gone in far enough. in fact, even if you actively attempt to find it, you can't seem to find the back of the store. you can see a wall, sure, but it never seems to get any closer, even as you walk towards it.
be forewarned: the infinite tommy bahama does not have food or water.]
no subject
🖕
But it's not actually angry. If anything, it's almost sort of envious. Its actual response is several seconds later.
They'll probably like you fine. The others on the ship, I mean. The ones who're worth knowing, at least.
no subject
At its response, the blue box emits a gentle chime from inside, almost like cooing. She often finds people hard to relate to, but she supposes she'll have to make an effort if she's going to stay here for a while and she wants to help. Speaking of which...
{ #statement; request:response("plan"); }
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Organize and coordinate.
Gather information and share it with everyone else.
Avoid the Captain's attention.
...
Comfort Friday, if possible.
She's the first one to hear that last bit stated so explicitly. It's mentioned having sympathy for the cruise director to others, but nothing so strong as this. But it understands what it is to be programmed, to be subjected to pain for disobedience and even for fun. Friday might be organic flesh, but she's no less a 'bot than MB is.
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The TARDIS expresses her approval and agreement of the plan. From what Rin has shared so far, the other passengers don't pose a particular threat compared to what brought them here. The only information she'll safeguard is any that might potentially lead someone to doing something stupid.
The bit about Friday is a little surprising, but she notes that Friday, while more of a host than a guest, is apparently also somewhat of a victim.
Given the bit about sharing information, she takes a moment to compile and transmit another data packet.
This one mostly contains readings, observations and deductions she's made since arriving here, regarding the nature of this place.
Unfortunately, even if she tries to translate and make it understandable, a lot of it's probably gibberish for someone who isn't intrinsically linked to the fabric of the spacetime vortex. A lot of it is still confusing and incomplete to her, after all, so translating it adequately is almost impossible.
no subject
Can you summarize? I don't understand.
There was no need for me to do all of this but here we are
{ #statement;
response(😢);
readings(dimensional disturbances)
>> 1 = -31% : note(x, "length");
>> 2 = -62% : note(y, "width");
>> 3 = -90% : note(z, "height");
>> 4 = -5% : note(Τ, "time", "thought");
>> 5 = -100% : note(∞, "spacetime vortex");
>> 6 = +12% : note(Λ, "order");
>> 7 = -12% : note(η, "entropy");
>> 8 = -97% : note(ΘΣ, "[translation impossible]");
>> 9 = -13% : note(μ, "equilibrium");
>> 10 = +97% : note(δ, "imagination");
>> 11 = +82% : note(Ω, "possibility");
assessment.situation
>> msg.reading = "multiple space disturbances detected";
>> msg.reading = "multiple time disturbances detected";
>> msg.reading = "strong dimensional disturbance";
>> msg.status = "spacetime vortex inaccessible";
>> msg.status = "normal traversal obstructed";
>> msg.warning = "situation unstable";
>> msg.warning = "ΘΣ at critical low";
>> msg.theory = "no longer in N-space" : probability = 79%;
>> msg.theory = "currently in pocket universe" : probability = 63%;
  }
A brief moment passes, then she adds.
{ #statement; msg.observation = "it hurts" }
no subject
Pocket universe--Palamedes and I sort of talked about that idea, near the beginning. He's one of the ones who might understand. He described it as a bubble in the river between life and death.
Murderbot steps closer to the blue box, lifting a hand toward the door, but stops before touching it. It knows how little it likes touching people, and isn't sure if she feels the same, but it wants to offer some meager comfort.
Is there anything I can do to help you? I can maybe give you access to my drone feeds, so you don't feel so stuck in one place. And if there's any maintenance needs you have, I can try to help.
no subject
response.topic "pocket universe"
>> msg = "concept of afterlife irrelevant"
>> pocket universe(description) = "Smaller universe usually connected to a major universe, such as N-Space. Potentially parallel, but not necessarily. May range anywhere in scope between a momentary blip and encompassing the size of a breadbox, or thousands of Gallifreyan standard years and encompassing several galaxies."
>> msg = "Size of current pocket universe unknown. Further readings required."
}
And then, appreciating the offer of help and deeming Rin relatively trustworthy, she decides to let him in. The door opens, just a crack.
{ #statement;
action.clarification "welcome"
response.topic "stuck"
>> msg = "traversal still possible around boat and surrounding area"
>> msg = "regardless - drone feed access appreciated"
response.topic "maintenance"
>> msg = "maintenance help appreciated"
>> status.urgent-repair-need = 0
>> status.basic-repair-need = 83
>> status.basic-maintenance-need = 492
}
Granted, the latter includes things the Doctor really should've done centuries ago, so she doesn't really expect all of that to get fixed anytime soon. And several would be impossible given her current power status and limitations.
Such as the fact that the only room she can currently grant access to is the console room. The room glows with a warm orange, and doesn't look notably broken in any way. She'd at least managed to reset the effects of the Flux.
no subject
"You're beautiful." This aloud, not over the feed, letting the words echo within the space.
And then it returns to the previous conversation, giving her the drone access it offered. One's over the pool deck, another's around the Windjammer buffet, a third is up near the bridge for a bird's eye view and a fourth is patrolling the halls.
Repair and maintenance tasks to be handled in order of priority. Where should I begin?
no subject
She could definitely explain the size difference and transdimensional engineering in a way that would make sense to the machine part of it (at least conceptually/theoretically), it would be harder to fully explain it to the organic part. So wonder is just fine.
The door closes gently behind it, just so no one else wanders in unexpectedly. The drones will be helpful in determining if something of interest is happening that she can't pick up with her sensors.
At the question regarding repairs, there's a small click coming from somewhere along the walls, as a panel opens. She transmits a small data packet containing instructions on how to repair. The task should be simple enough for it to handle. She's saving anything that she thinks might be more tricky (or dangerous).
no subject
It does offer to let her ride its feed while it watches, like it used to with ART. The research transport had found that using Murderbot as a proxy helped it understand shows better than it might without a person to help translate the images into a story.
no subject
And then it offers to share the feed, and she accepts curiously. Normally she might not be too interested, but given that Rin is definitely also from a different universe than her own N-space, it's actually somewhat interesting.
no subject
But Murderbot has very little reaction to those parts of the series at all, instead paying more attention to one of the junior solicitors' relationship with the bodyguard and their attempts to hide it from the rest of the team, even as the bodyguard's past as part of a crime syndicate comes out.
no subject
{ #statement; request.response("level of fiction v. factual in depicted events"); }
no subject
Yet. It's technically owned by one, now, after the PreservationAux team bought its bond, intending to bring it home with them and set it free.
It ran away from them.
no subject
{ #statement; response.observation("structure of 'Corporate Rim' appears hostile to humanoid life"); }
no subject
It's a hollow defense, half-hearted and exhausted, because Murderbot doesn't know what the alternative is. But it hopes there is one, really, somewhere. One where people (real people, not like it) are safe and well-kept and cared for.
no subject
{ #statement;
response.observation
>> "corporation" = a group of humanoids
>> request1: "evaluate: percentage of humanoid lives improved by 'corporation' doing well"
>> request2: "evaluate: humanoid life improvement (within corporation) vs humanoid life diminishment (within Corporate Rim)"
}
no subject
But thinking about the big picture and the humans it can't help makes it feel so small and helpless and like everything is futile.
So it sulks.
no subject
So after a long while of her growing increasingly impatient, a piece of wiring it's working on will randomly give it a little zap. Never mind that that part definitely isn't supposed to be electric according to the instructions.
And then she sends it a request/offer to show it a different feed in place of the serial.
no subject
But it accepts the feed request, trying to calm itself down.
no subject
Thankfully, what she had already intended to show it hopefully will help with the calming down. (Or just make it more sad and sulky, possibly.)
It's not a serial or anything scripted, just footage from somewhere she's been. A small jungle tribe where every member is valued and protected, regardless of their capabilities. They spend most of their time caring for family, creating art and music, and socialising while doing practical work like picking fruits or repairing homes. There's drawbacks and dangers, of course - lack of access to advanced medical care, for example. But even so, the people seem happy.
Then a different place, on a very different planet. Seemingly much more technologically advanced, on floating mechanical islands, and not inhabited by humans, but a race of humanoids with bluish skin and noses similar to that of a cow's. On thing that may feel subtle at first but then extremely striking is the complete lack of anything resembling advertisement or propaganda. They seem to have everything they need or would want. One clip includes the Doctor explaining that this species has such a strong sense of emotional connection that no one can bear to see others in pain.
Lastly she shows a planet called Traken, one of her personal favourites - a planet where anyone with evil and selfish ambitions in their heart would literally turn to stone upon arriving at the planet, where they would be tended to and treated kindly by the Trakenites who lived there. (Though this one saddens her to think of, as the planet was soon after this destroyed.)
She shares the footage with it slow enough that the organic mind should be able to take it in properly as well.
no subject
It aches deeply, hands stilling and eyes stinging and watering. In none of those societies would cyborg constructs have been invented, and perhaps that's for the very best. No
sexbotsComfortUnits, nomurderbotsSecUnits and CombatUnits. Just people, people thriving.What is the point, in showing me this? What is your purpose here?
no subject
{ #statement; response("hope"); }
no subject
You know, sitting on the floor of the TARDIS trying not to cry is something that fine people do. Or fine not-people.
(Somewhere, deep, deep in the core of its being, the thought is this: if it was a person, if all the cyborg constructs were people, then they were being abused. If they were tools, they were just being used.)
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