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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.]
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Unperturbed by this, of course, the SQUIP tries again, and the second response is a little clearer:]
Ṣ̵̡̥̖̼͉̌̓͊̎̈́̀û̵̹̜͓̟͚̇͛͒̅̓͛̕͜p̴̝̜̊̊́e̸̖̜̫͎̾̈́̿̿̉̈̀̔̇͝ȓ̶͎̙̠̙̼̭͈͚͑͒́̀͂́̔̑͜ͅ ̷̢̛̣̠̪̟͙̭͎̃̒̇͐̕Q̸̜͆̈́͌̒͊̕͘ṳ̴̫̘̞̚a̶̹̻͊̈̾̈̐̃̍̎͂̚ntum Uṉ̸̛̦̙͔̣͍͎̜́͛̊͘ͅỉ̶͔̹̻͓̘̫̖̯̕t̵̨̟̣̤̥̾̌̅̒̽̚͝͝ ̷͈̺̀̇̎̂̇̔̀I̷͔͆̀͗̈́̽̋̉n̴͓̥̬̗̹͉̓̏̈̓̍̄͝t̸̨͓̫̦̜̗̒́ę̵́͌̈̃l̸͉̮̲̺̠̠̱͗͂͌̊͂͗͗̏ Processor. I am a SQUIP. 注意 注意 注意注意注意注意注意注̴̖̥͚̺͆͂̔͝͝意̶͍̮́͗́̉̉̎͋͘̕ͅ注̴̖̥͚̺͆͂̔͝͝意̶͍̮́͗́̉̉̎͋͘̕ͅ注̴̖̥͚̺͆͂̔͝͝意̶͍̮́͗́̉̉̎͋͘̕ͅ
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[No, let's actually ask the human who seems to be involved here, too. Because this isn't a cyborg construct. And that's weird]
What the fuck is a SQUIP?
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[The kid looks very nervous as soon as he's approached, and his hand rubs at a scarred spot just below his ear as he looks away.]
...Why are you asking? It's deactivated right now, so it's not anything to worry about.
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[Murderbot frowns, though--the reaction is definitely strange. Its voice is a little flat, and it doesn't make direct eye contact when it speaks.]
What is it?
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[He eyes the 'man' very warily, and then winces again.]
So that's why my brain's been threatening to pound itself out through my sinuses... Ugh. Okay. Fine.
[Rich takes a deep breath, which doesn't seem to lessen any of the tension in his body, before breaking off from the crowd and heading for a more secluded spot on the deck. He assumes the stranger will follow after, of course. And hopefully, being alone with it won't result in Rich getting assimilated to the Borg or something.]
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He actually is staring over the railing of the ship when Murderbot approaches him, contemplating if it's really a good idea to toss his cookies, before sighing and deciding that can wait until after detailing his tragic backstory to some random invasive stranger. He takes another deep breath. It still doesn't help.]
Okay. So basically, I'm not sure how you figured it out, but there's this Japanese supercomputer called a SQUIP. Weird experimental bullshit, basically tech that you can ingest. I took one two years ago and it implanted in my brain, and it was like, supposed to help me be cooler and stuff. It was stupid and creepy and obviously evil, but it's deactivated, so it can't do anything besides give me a bitch of a migraine now.
[He rattles that off pretty quickly, arms folded stubbornly over his chest, as if holding back any sign of trauma that may look like it's still affecting him.]
So yeah. That's your answer. We're good now.
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What did it do to you while it was active?
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[He looks around again before turning his back to the secunit and lifting his shirt slightly. Along his back are faint pink scars, reminiscent of wiring on a motherboard.]
These are from spinal stimulation when I didn't have proper posture. I've got stretch marks too, from the workout routine it put me on.
[He turns back to the 'man,' now counting off flaws on his fingers.]
It told me I was better off dead if I fought it on any subject. It hid information from me to make its stance more appealing. It wouldn't call me Rich even though I told it a hundred times that was my name. It could take control of my sense of sight or sound and block me off if I was being a shit.
Hmm, and... oh yeah, it fucking puppeted my body around to sell more SQUIPs to kids, and then tried to get me to mass dose my best friend's Halloween party. That a good enough rundown?
[He's being a little blunt, but he just needs to get this over with. The sooner this guy accepts that it's too serious to be worth getting into, the sooner Rich can stop picking at his old scars.]
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[It looks truly and deeply horrified, taking a couple steps backwards, its face paling visibly, breath hitching. It might be about to have a panic attack, quite honestly.]
I am sorry, I wouldn't have reached out to it if I knew.
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[Rich snaps, before noting the complexion of the cyborg's face and the way it's breathing now. He'd been too hasty to reach for his old coping mechanisms... turned his words to barbs to protect himself. Made himself look like even more of a problem thanks to that. Idiot.
He looks away, rubbing his temple again, but he shakes his head.]
Don't apologize. You couldn't have known. And it didn't do anything besides make my head a little sore.
[Though Murderbot is still getting the occasional staticky transmission from the deactivated SQUIP while Rich tries to placate him. Only words like "liar," "pathetic," and "failure" slip through.]
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[It shakes its head.]
Mine isn't active anymore. Hasn't been for over 40,000 hours. But I know why I had one. You shouldn't have.
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[Now it's Rich's turn to go pale, as he looks over the cyborg before him. There is no way he can take it in a fight. It seems to at least be rational enough to know killing people is wrong, but... well, that didn't stop the SQUIP from going power-hungry, did it?]
Like, I agree I shouldn't have one, but it's in my head now, so we can't really get it out safely.
[Please don't laser his head off or something!]
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[Its gaze lifts to meet Rich's for just a moment before flickering away.]
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What the fuck? No, I'm not planning on that! I'm one kid from Jersey, what kind of shit do you think I could really accomplish? You're the one with the advanced AI and the grip that's probably literally a steel vise!
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I don't know where Jersey is.
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[And he'd much rather not be monitored to see if that's the case.]
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[Look, the threat conversation's over and instead the cyborg's curious about the time and space Rich comes from.]
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[And the implications of the phrase 'corporate rim' are exactly as awful as one might expect.]
It's great if you have money. Money buys freedom and power. If you don't have money, you don't have either of those, and probably are all but owned by one of the corporations. Oh, they call them labor contracts, but when you're paying for food, drink, sleeping space and air with the money they pay you...
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[He wrinkles his nose, just dwelling on the idea of the labour contracts.]
Like, I know wage slavery is basically a thing in my time, but the idea of being literally owned by a company is so nasty. This kind of shit is why I got fired from Sbarro's, though. I'm way too much of an anarchist to play nice with companies.
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I've never been there, though. I was leased by one of their survey teams, once. It was...different.
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