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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
Fun. [she grins, wondering if that's all that is] I dunno, I've wandered through here for a few hours. I think it might be some kind of pocket dimension. It might have an end but you might never find it. [she takes another bite of her sandwich]
Everything else on board so far seems normal and fixed, so that's why I think this may be elsewhere or some sort of ship inside the ship or something. Haven't seen any controls though...
no subject
Placing a sub-dimension within a manufactured dimensional space and entangling the entrance permanently seems extravagant, but who am I to judge? There is no accounting for taste, at least, not mathematically.
[She misses being able to record her notes. Her brow dips and she caps off her pen as she reaches the end of the line. She requires measurements if she's going to advance this math any further and measurements require time, which requires recalculation, which requires more measurements. She looks rather like she's just swallowed a lemon.]
I don't suppose you have any photographic equipment or silver plates on hand?
[Finally, she turns to face the woman who corrected her math. She does not appear to have either photographic equipment or silver plates. Pity.]
What are you called?
no subject
I don't have a camera, but I saw some shop where you can get some, but I've only got some silver nitrate, I think. I was going to use and I never did so I keep forgetting it in the bottom of my bag. [she flips a hand to where her backpack with a baseball bat strapped to it is sitting on the counter]
We should probably get something to capture that before it all fades away though. I don't know if it will but if this thing's alive it may not like writing on its walls.
[but she doesn't know if it is... then again she doesn't know if it isn't]
I'm Ace McShane. Hiya. [wave]
no subject
The baseball bat also seems prudent, if not strictly necessary at the moment.]
It's doubtful it's alive, but there is a reasonable probability that this wall will no longer be this wall at a later date.
A camera would, therefore, be prudent.
[She considers Ace, looks back at her wall of calculations, and then decides to simply shoulder the risk of abandoning them. They're math. Math can be repeated if necessary.]
Ace McShane, charmed. I am Rosalind Lutece. Show me where I may procure a camera and, preferably, a voxophone or voice recording device.
no subject
[but she's seen enough weirdness]
Oh yeah, voice recording... That I'm not really sure... I didn't see any walkman's or anything like that. [she shrugs up her bookbag on her shoulder as she talks]
See, like how pictures can be recorded on film- or the right kind of paper or silver plate? Voice can do that too! I'm not sure how exactly, but you get some special film coiled up in a hard shell called a cassette and you put the cassette into a cassette deck, or a machine that can read it like uh...a gramophone! And then you hit the record button and the microphone in the cassette deck picks up your voice and kind of engraves it into the tape. Except you can record over it if you like.
no subject
[She listens as the girl gives a rudimentary description of the local voice recorders. They sound familiar, but Rosalind had never put much effort into decoding their inner workings. She has, for the last few eternities, been busy with other endeavors. However, it would not be unwise to catch up with local technology, particularly if she was to be here for a while.]
The reusable nature is extremely appealing, but I hardly have the patience to lug an engraving table or a Victrola to and fro. Are they reasonably compact?
no subject
[she leads the woman out of the store onto the deck]
There may be something even better than that here, I don't know. Some of this stuff is from my time but some of it is kind of crazy. Like, look at that. [she points to a screen]
Completely flat! It's wild. Course I've seen wilder. But I just wish I could tell when this was.
no subject
Have you looked at any clocks?
[She's not being snide, that's just her voice.]
I find the expensive sort usually have an embedded date. The gears are difficult to make and to set, so they serve well as a status symbol regardless of the current year.
So long as that year has clockwork...I presume this one does?
[But it would be fascinating if it didn't.]
no subject
[she puts her hands in her pockets and falls into a pace beside the woman and a little ahead]
When are you from?
no subject
Do you have a doctorate in physics or detailed knowledge of quantum mechanics?
[She looks to be a teenager so...probably not, but one can never be certain. Rosalind nearly had a doctorate at her age.]
no subject
So I might not know what they teach in A levels or anything, but I bet I know more about that kind of thing than the smartest people from my time.
no subject
I have occupied a quantum superposition removed from linear space time since my murder--attempted murder, perhaps--in the year 1909. I have spent over one hundred and twenty two realities observing and adjusting parameters of standard layers of space time in an effort to generate a tolerable confluence of variables. These attempts cannot be measured in a linear method without yielding wildly inaccurate results but, in the spirit of conversation...each was somewhere between seventeen years and eighty years in length.
Most of those attempts occurred over the same series of years, but several did not.
In short: I come from many whens, a great number of which no longer exist. I expect, like my hopes for doctoral renown, they have collapsed into nothingness.
[She pauses and stares at Ace to be certain she got all of that. In the event that she did not:]
1909 was the year of my death.
Why in the world does your physician travel inside a police box?
no subject
[she doesn't really know, but she knows the Doctor might have an idea. If he's here...]
He's not a physician. He's just...Doctor ... Doctor of everything-- a quantum superposition of a doctor. [she laughs] But nah, that's the name he goes by. And the chameleon circuit on the tardis, that's his time machine that looks like a police box, broke so it's just kinda been stuck like that.
If you ask me, I think she likes it that way.
no subject
So the contraption that he uses to traverse time is sentient? Is that why you suspected the wall might be?
no subject
And yeah, it might be, that's what I'm wondering. If it's a ship like the Doctor's. He's not the only one whose got one and they can appear as whatever-- so long as the circuit is not broken, that is.
no subject
[Rosalind considers it and that, if nothing else, is a testament to how interesting it really is. She dismisses flawed suggestions out of hand constantly.]
How would you go about testing it?
I imagine damaging this ship's chameleon circuit would do the trick, but how would one find it?
no subject
I don't really know. It might take more poking around to find what's really going on.
Anyway, here's the shop. [she leads the woman inside] It's got all sorts of interesting things. Cameras are here, but they're one use, which means you can't put more film in 'em unless you can jury rig it.
You don't really have to pay for anything though, just act like you are.