ataraxion | voice;

Entry tags:

voice;

[There a click on, and the clear sound that someone is there, but there's a pause, like maybe someone is making sure.]

Is this broadcast going through?

I think I got it-

Hello, Tranquility, my name is Steve Rogers.

I'd like to be directed to whoever is in charge of Security, if that's not too much trouble. And I'd like to know if it's possible to see out into space. Are there any windows on board?

[Annnnd a pause, and a fumble.]

Is it off?

[And then another pause.]

Sorry, excuse me-

[And NOW it's off.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bingo. It's supposed to be "cute" or something.

At least making peace signs has some history behind it.

What kind of history?

[There's a tone of someone who maybe doesn't know but finds that somewhat amusing.]

Hippies. Flower children. Nuclear disarmament. Anti-war protests. Did you miss the 60s or something?

[ Jason, unfortunately, doesn't know about its roots in WWII. ]

The 1960s?

It was 1945 when I was at home.

[ Oh. Well that was something. ]

So I guess you don't know about the rise of intelligent apes and the war humans had to fight for freedom from our potential hairy overlords? [ He shouldn't, but he's going to. ]

What year did that happen in? Before or after the Nazi dinosaurs?

[DRY, DRIER, DRYEST.]

[ Heh. ]

After. 1969 or roundabouts. But hey, you'll have bell-bottoms to look forward to.

Do I want to know?

No. A guy I know went through a phase and thought those'd stay in style. [ Along with an outfit that'd make strippers blush. ]

What you really want to know about are the parachute pants.

Made from?

Nylon. [ But he's curious now. ]

So you're really from 1945?

Yes. Most people seem to be a bit further along.

Does this make you a vet, then? [ He asks it innocently enough, but Jason's digging, trying to scope out people on the ship. ]

I don't know if it's a vet if you came out while fighting.

[ Oh. Again. ]

Anyone spoil you on the outcome, yet? [ He's not sure if he should or not, but the way this conversation's turned, maybe some good news could be used. ]

Do you mean if we won?

No one's thought to yet, no.

[He pauses.]

Tell me, please.

[ A small sigh leaves his lips. ]

Yep. We kick Axis ass, but it's kind of messy. Depending on who you ask, we're still suffering aftereffects sixty-plus years later.

But the bad guys? They get taken down hard.

Is this like retelling some old history?

[But he gives a laugh]

It's history to me. Hell, my dad wasn't even born when that war ended.

This isn't encouraging me to call you anything but son.

Don't. [ He says it with a tenseness and finality that could probably fill a psychology textbook. ]

[A measured pause.]

Then tell me what I should call you.

[ He hesitates for a bit. ]

Jason. And- I know you didn't mean it that way, but I'm making it clear now: I'm no one's son. [ Talk about sudden mood kill. ]

All right.

[He says it calmly, he's not offended. He knows better than anyone that parents can be a hairtrigger.]

Jason.

[ ... For once, he feels like a bit of an ass for snapping like that. Most people don't just accept it. ]

Right. So uh. Welcome to the future and all that. [ He's not certain if this is any sort of future for him; there are spaceships like this around, or so he's heard from Bruce- he's just never been on one. ]