roy walker (there are no bandits here). (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fallasleep) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2013-07-21 02:03 pm
fallasleep) wrote in ataraxion2013-07-21 02:03 pm
first story » video
[ When the feed switches on, Roy is sitting, as always, in his bed in the medbay. His tablet is seated on the table in front of him, and Roy has his arms folded neatly on his lap. ]
You know, I think life on a spaceship in space should be the least thing from boring. [ He pauses, and chuckles, a bitter sound. ] But then again, there's never anything to do for a guy who can't walk. It's a good thing I'm so good at entertaining myself.
[ He cracks a smile. It's an ugly expression. ]
I've been reading. Useful things, these tablets, the way they store so many books so you don't have to bug anyone else to try to bring you some while you're stuck in bed. [ Dramatic pause. ]
There's this book I read about a young man named Werther. He falls in love with a girl named Lotte, and she has the most beautiful black eyes. [ His smile softens at the edges. ] He's passionately, deeply in love with her, and he would have married her, but from their very first meeting she tells him that she's already engaged to another man, named Albert.
Werther tries, oh he tries, to be a good friend to both of them. But he loves Lotte too much, so eventually he has to go away to somewhere else. But he can't stay away for long, so he goes back to Lotte and Albert and realises they have gone and gotten themselves married. [ At this point of his narration, Roy laughs, and he turns away from the camera, looking off to the distance. ] Lotte tells Werther that she can't see him much anymore, because she's married now, you see.
"Life's blossoms are only appearances. So many pass and leave not a trace, so few of their fruits set, so few of those ripen." Or so Werther says. There's nowhere left for him to go. He can't have her; he can't kill Albert so he can have her; he can't stop loving her either. There's only one thing he can do. So Werther shoots himself in the head. [ He looks back to the camera, looks beyond it, and takes a glass of water and sips at it. ]
It's the best possible thing that could've happened to him. [ Is Roy talking about Werther anymore? He doesn't even know himself. ] If he didn't shoot himself, he'll be constantly reminded of what he can't have, everything he has lost. You see, there's nothing quite so painful than to have to keep breathing when every breath turns out to be... [ he makes a gesture in the air ] hollow.
[ A pause, and he smiles again. Changes the subject. ]
On the subject of books, I'm looking for a poem by a man named Keats. Something about a nightingale? Does anyone know it? [ He tilts his head, and gives another hollow smile. ] It won't stop bugging me.
You know, I think life on a spaceship in space should be the least thing from boring. [ He pauses, and chuckles, a bitter sound. ] But then again, there's never anything to do for a guy who can't walk. It's a good thing I'm so good at entertaining myself.
[ He cracks a smile. It's an ugly expression. ]
I've been reading. Useful things, these tablets, the way they store so many books so you don't have to bug anyone else to try to bring you some while you're stuck in bed. [ Dramatic pause. ]
There's this book I read about a young man named Werther. He falls in love with a girl named Lotte, and she has the most beautiful black eyes. [ His smile softens at the edges. ] He's passionately, deeply in love with her, and he would have married her, but from their very first meeting she tells him that she's already engaged to another man, named Albert.
Werther tries, oh he tries, to be a good friend to both of them. But he loves Lotte too much, so eventually he has to go away to somewhere else. But he can't stay away for long, so he goes back to Lotte and Albert and realises they have gone and gotten themselves married. [ At this point of his narration, Roy laughs, and he turns away from the camera, looking off to the distance. ] Lotte tells Werther that she can't see him much anymore, because she's married now, you see.
"Life's blossoms are only appearances. So many pass and leave not a trace, so few of their fruits set, so few of those ripen." Or so Werther says. There's nowhere left for him to go. He can't have her; he can't kill Albert so he can have her; he can't stop loving her either. There's only one thing he can do. So Werther shoots himself in the head. [ He looks back to the camera, looks beyond it, and takes a glass of water and sips at it. ]
It's the best possible thing that could've happened to him. [ Is Roy talking about Werther anymore? He doesn't even know himself. ] If he didn't shoot himself, he'll be constantly reminded of what he can't have, everything he has lost. You see, there's nothing quite so painful than to have to keep breathing when every breath turns out to be... [ he makes a gesture in the air ] hollow.
[ A pause, and he smiles again. Changes the subject. ]
On the subject of books, I'm looking for a poem by a man named Keats. Something about a nightingale? Does anyone know it? [ He tilts his head, and gives another hollow smile. ] It won't stop bugging me.
voice;
Nah. Casablanca, that's a classic. Similar ending, but at least there's something happening.
voice;
I've never heard of that 'classic' of yours. What is it?
[ He's from the era of silent movies. Let's go back to 1915, Mitchell. ]
voice;
[He says it again, like repeating it is going to make a difference. There wasn't much good going on in 1915; let's talk about the 40s, man.]
Casabl-- oh, come off it. It's a classic film. Bogart, and Ingrid Bergman--he's in love with her, and he's got t' help her get her husband out of Casablanca so they can keep fighting the Nazis. That's a story.
voice;
[ Pause. Then, as if he can't help himself- ]
What are Nazis?
voice;
[The I'm-going-to-vomit face, you can't see that, though it can somehow be heard in his tone. But that comment, plus the one about the Nazis, and Mitchell is slowly realising that maybe he's talking to a contemporary of his. Or whatever you'd call someone from your original time.]
Nazis. Er-- 'national socialist' party, or something like that, but really just German fascists. Huge deal in the Second World War. Uh, sorry, where-- are you from?
voice;
Let me get this straight. [ Slowly. He raises a hand, ticking off his fingers. ] One, you're telling me about the future. Two, people used the moving pictures to tell goddamned love stories you could've read from any book. Three, some idiot told a love story about a sinking ship. [ Yes, he knows Titanic. It was three years ago. ] Four, there's going to be more than one Great War.
[ He snorts, shaking his head, as if to say: And people want me to keep breathing. Then: ]
America. Los Angeles, to be exact. [ He almost smiles. All this talk about movies almost makes him feel nostalgic.
Almost. ]
voice;
[Solemnly, he heaves a sigh.]
The future, mate, is a grim dark place. But there's decent movies that get made and there's takeaway and there's some cinemas that serve beer, so it's worth it t' keep going for those alone. [He's about 97% kidding.] But, uh, Los Angeles. Right. Never made it over that way. What's the year?
voice;
1915.
voice;
1915. Ah, man-- see, that's a good time for it, movies are just gettin' started, everything's honest--no real Hollywood shit yet.
voice;
You sound like you remember it. [ Pause. ] But you don't talk like one of those Elves whose faces don't match their supposed ages.
[ He almost asks Mitchell to switch on the video- but nah, he's not curious enough for that. ]
voice;
Ah-- yeah, no, definitely... not an elf. [What a weird thing to have to state.] I just studied films. Loads of film courses--mostly early-era stuff, y'know. 1915 and onwards.
voice;
voice;
Anyway, they start makin' movies by the hundreds. Gives you a lot more t' study.
voice;
Do you still have those guys who do stupid things for pay?
They're called stuntmen, in my time.
voice;
[Not that... Roy will know who Brad Pitt is.]
Er, why?
voice;
[ Ignoring 'Brad Pitt'. He has a feeling that the man is someone like Sinclair, and though Roy knows that men like Sinclair has and will always exist, it's not nice to be reminded of it. ]
voice;
And that's just blockbusters, there's all types--romances, romantic comedies, action, action-adventure, science fiction, cartoons, horror, thriller... shit gets complicated. They do hundreds of movies, every year.
voice;
[ Shrugs. ]
voice;
You're in movies, then?
voice;
[ He shrugs, as if to say- "I was just curious."
(Which is false. He is never 'just' curious.) ]
voice;
[A pause, as he considers something. It's a question prompted by curiosity more than any real concern--]
Do you do all right? Being here, I mean, in the future.
voice;
There are things that will never change. [ Pause. His eyes flicker towards the blank screen. ]
Why?
voice;
[Well, someone from Mitchell's original time, someone fresh out of that world. He hasn't got a concept of it--growing old with the years and the decades, one after another, being alive (or some semblance of it) as the world changed. He's always liked that part of it, when he was together enough to appreciate it.]
--to someone from your time. It's mental even to me, and I've at least seen films about this kind of shit. [A beat, and he adds, thoughtfully:] The world used t' be... small.
voice;
He shrugs. ]
We're in space. I've seen space. So it's smaller. [ Unsaid is this: That there's nowhere Roy can imagine himself going and seeing no one there; nowhere he can imagine is empty and all for his own.
It's a heavy thought. ]
voice;
I mean, I've seen the bloody Atlantic, that doesn't make it small. If that's the way you're measuring, you're going t' land yourself in trouble.
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;
voice;