Severus Snape (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysagit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2012-02-11 08:39 am
alwaysagit) wrote in ataraxion2012-02-11 08:39 am
[Audio]
[It has been a few days.
More than a few, as a matter of fact, but they may have well been weeks for all the notice that Snape has taken of the passing time. Following the directions provided, he'd found his assigned quarters and directly stretched out on the bed after only a cursory glance around; still too disoriented and weak to do more than note in passing the continued absence of anything resembling a fiery abyss. Not that that was in any way disappointing.
Perhaps—this isn't Hell after all, as it is so peaceful—or at least it would be, if not for that infernal communications machine; its occasional bursts of insipid drivel managing to penetrate his semi-consciousness. Gradual stages of awareness begin with passive toleration, moving on to eyeing it with open disgust, eventually progressing to reaching out a finger and stabbing at it randomly in a futile attempt to turn the bloody thing off. Unsuccessful in that endeavor, he musters up the energy to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up with a snarl, taking it in hand with the possible intention of hurling it against the wall in a fit of rage if he doesn't achieve some mastery over it in very short order, as it continues to spew out (mostly) inane chatter.
After about the twentieth (thirtieth? Fiftieth?) mention of gargantuan crew-less spaceships, alien abductors and the apparent destruction of Earth, he's beginning to feel a certain amount of disquietude, to say the least. Perhaps those people in the 'arrival' room weren't quite as barking mad as previously supposed. Unless they all were.
Coherent enough by this point to manage basic navigation of the contraption (muggle technology has never been much of an interest of his, but it's not a complete mystery), he spends some time scanning through some of the more comprehensive texts with growing consternation, grudgingly coming to accept the realization that he is in fact, still alive (his increasing hunger can attest to that in the absence of any other criteria). Alive in outer space.
A while later and without preamble:] Presumably people are listening, as it has been mymisfortune pleasure to be a party to quite a few of your own communications. After sifting through the morass of extraneous non-information available via this device, it has not been difficult to reach the obvious conclusion that no one has a clue as to what may or mayn't be happening here. In the dearth of any solid answers, are there any amongst you who have a theory of some sort? Extra points for it not being completely ludicrous.
More than a few, as a matter of fact, but they may have well been weeks for all the notice that Snape has taken of the passing time. Following the directions provided, he'd found his assigned quarters and directly stretched out on the bed after only a cursory glance around; still too disoriented and weak to do more than note in passing the continued absence of anything resembling a fiery abyss. Not that that was in any way disappointing.
Perhaps—this isn't Hell after all, as it is so peaceful—or at least it would be, if not for that infernal communications machine; its occasional bursts of insipid drivel managing to penetrate his semi-consciousness. Gradual stages of awareness begin with passive toleration, moving on to eyeing it with open disgust, eventually progressing to reaching out a finger and stabbing at it randomly in a futile attempt to turn the bloody thing off. Unsuccessful in that endeavor, he musters up the energy to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up with a snarl, taking it in hand with the possible intention of hurling it against the wall in a fit of rage if he doesn't achieve some mastery over it in very short order, as it continues to spew out (mostly) inane chatter.
After about the twentieth (thirtieth? Fiftieth?) mention of gargantuan crew-less spaceships, alien abductors and the apparent destruction of Earth, he's beginning to feel a certain amount of disquietude, to say the least. Perhaps those people in the 'arrival' room weren't quite as barking mad as previously supposed. Unless they all were.
Coherent enough by this point to manage basic navigation of the contraption (muggle technology has never been much of an interest of his, but it's not a complete mystery), he spends some time scanning through some of the more comprehensive texts with growing consternation, grudgingly coming to accept the realization that he is in fact, still alive (his increasing hunger can attest to that in the absence of any other criteria). Alive in outer space.
A while later and without preamble:] Presumably people are listening, as it has been my
[Video]
As one of the people who have been here from what seems to be the beginning, it seems those in charge have no idea what's going on either. And from what America-... I mean Alfred has found out, we're either in some distant future somehow or in another dimension all together. Which makes sense when you look at those who were not human and now are, as well as the aliens wandering about the ship as well.
[Audio]
While it is certainly beneficial to add to whatever facts we may have in regard to this situation however speculative, I cannot see that it brings us any closer to why.
[Video]
If they don't know why and we can't figure out why, then there may not be an explanation other than by chance or by accident. Hell, as far as I know, this technology never existed in my world. Space was just a concept, not a reality, no matter how much Russia went on about it.
[Smallest hint of a smile, tapping at her lips for a moment or two.]
And I'd wager that your countries are nothing more than pieces of land, hm?
[Audio]
[Video]
[Audio]
[Video]
[Audio]
Re: [Audio]
[Audio]
[video]
[Audio]
[video]
[Audio]
[video]
[Audio]
[video]
[Audio]
voice;
Acknowledgement, much less acceptance, however, are entirely reliant upon individual concepts of possibility.
[Audio]
Whether or not I will be accepting of such is a bridge to be crossed after I've heard them. [Doubtful.]
voice;
I have recorded the most plausible myself. However, I find it appropriate to preface this information with an acknowledgement that said theories touch upon scientific conjecture as frequently as they do theoretical possibility.
[Audio]
voice;
1/4
2/4
3/4
4/4
(no subject)
[video - encrypted 50%] Crane is not good with computers, okay?
Unfortunately the vast majority of our fellow passengers seem to believe a number of theories that seem rather ludicrous.
[ A beat. ]
Though the fact that we're ins pace seems quite jarring to some, myself included.
[Audio] a user's manual would have been nice, he's just saying
[Snape manages to refrain from wincing. There it is again--Space. Perhaps he won't totally believe it until confronted with visual evidence. Like a window.]
Understandable. [Admit to being thoroughly bewildered himself? Not likely.]
no subject
Hello. I could give you a few thousand theories, but I'm afraid there isn't anything to support them. I will therefore stick to the facts.
We already know that a month or so before the first jump, the hundred thousands of colonists who consituted the original passengers, as well as the whole crew save Captain Ward and Commander Reznik, disappeared without a trace, as well as many data from the ship's computers. Including maps, and anything about what happened.
Then, some of us arrived at the first jump. As you've already been told, neither us not the crew are able to figure out what happened. This is now the third jump.
As for the theories, it would appear something went very wrong with the jump. As for exactly what, whether it was accidental or not, and whether, if it wasn't, it happened as predicted by the ones responsible, we don't have a clue. We only know we aren't to look for anything from our respective universes.
Also, people on the station we approched before second jump know something about the ship, but they won't tell us.
Hope this helps. [but bearing no illusions.]
[Text]
That wealth of information will receive a rather terse text in response:]
acknowledged
Re: [Text]
You're welcome. Anything else?
Name is Stats. Nice to meet you.
[Text]
Re: [Text]
[text]
[no shit Chell.]
[text]
[text]
[text]
[text]
AUDIO
[audio]
[audio]
If I were you, I wouldn't trust either of those assholes in charge around here. There's no fucking way they don't know what's going on here.
[audio]
[audio]
no subject
[Waaaaay too many big words.]
[audio]
What.
In the.
Bloody Hell.
Are we.
Doing here.
[audio]
[He smiles because he gets it now, why didn't you say so before?]
...I've no idea, mate. I'd no idea we were brought here for a reason.
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
[audio]
(no subject)
video
No. No one knows for sure. No patterns, just random appearances from what seem to be alternate realities. Although some of us do know each other already. I'm in a bit of a strange situation myself, as I do recognize several people here, but most are claiming to be from over fifty years in the future. [Leans back in his chair.] No use getting worked up over it, though. For now, we're just stuck. Don't have to worry until something bad actually happens, don't you think?
[Says the man who woke up on this ship having a severe panic attack. But that was months ago. He's adjusted enough to distract himself by now.]
[audio]
But potentially being trapped on a spaceship, alive, with someone twenty years in his past is a disconcerting thought and his eyes are involuntarily drawn to the photograph of Lily that he'd found in his locker alongside his wand.
He finds it necessary to clear his throat before answering, as his mouth has suddenly gone rather dry.]
That's quite possibly the best advice I've had thus far.
video
[audio]