text.

[ex_varnish905]

This isn't the most pleasant of welcomes, is it? Symptoms seem to reflect impaired circulation to the brain. I'm no doctor, but I would suggest everybody increase their salt intake, orally or intravenously, and perhaps the ship-wide oxygen levels should be tested — independently of the regular instruments, if possible.

I have several questions:

Is it true that the higher floors are currently uninhabitable, and for what reason?

If I were looking to trade potentially valuable possessions or my artistic talents for some personal items I require, is there some sort of market or bartering system?

Is there any organized news system or newsletter circulated among ship residents or does blogging suffice? Is this network monitored? Censored?

Is there an agreed upon legal code or list of established rights of sapience (human or otherwise) that Security personnel enforce?

Thank you for your time.

Comments

video;

[seidhr]

[The Tranquility shall now kindly provide a short video clip of another long-haired fellow in a dim room, chin in hand, loosely curled fingers partly obscuring his mouth, with a sullen frown on his brow. He's quite thin, and wears no shirt to obscure his smooth shoulders; the glow of the screen lends his skin a moonlike pallor, more so even than usual. This young man's just sitting there, staring not quite into the lens, while something—his other hand—moves in the picture's periphery. Scrolling through text.
Just sitting there. Reading this post and its assorted commentary.
Sniffing once, miserably.

In the next moment, the sullenness becomes a jolt of surprise and aggravation, with a glimpse of teeth, and the picture jerks once beneath the angry press of a finger before the feed cuts out.]

Bloody ship...

video.

[ex_varnish905]

[ loki showed her his, as the saying goes, and therefore jamie does him the consideration of replying in kind. with a shirt, of course. she tries not to look too amused. ]

Don't be shy, now.

[ you little stalker. even better: she's been known to quietly browse through other people's business herself, and so she's already aware that he's, at the very least, a little bit interesting. ]

voice, private;

[seidhr]

[Ugh. Loki takes his sweet time in getting back to the network once he's turned it off. He puts his shirt back on, first of all. Exasperation still suffuses the weary smoke of his voice when he replies, despite the long delay—and there's no picture this time, even though this new connection is locked and he's no longer a half-naked spectacle waiting to happen. One eyeful is quite enough, thank you very much indeed.]

You've seen what Security has to offer in the way of enforcement. Why bother asking?

voice, private;

[ex_varnish905]

[ one eyeful is plenty. but she'll match. were he to switch to text, she'd match that, too. voice is the best though: her thoughts and phrasing mark her too significantly with text, but with speaking she only has to shift her accent to "ambiguous east coast american" and she can do whatever she likes simultaneously. right now she's prying diamonds carefully from their settlings in her bracelet, using kitchen cutlery. needs must. ]

Why bother asking any of the questions? I want people to think about how this place could've better organized.

[ also, it's difficult to avoid being caught breaking the law if you don't know what the laws are initially. jamie is quite certain that communications and security would not, despite their apparent uselessness, abide someone discussing — the creation of explosives, for instance. the drugging of people's drink. blackmail — it's very important she has an unimpeachable method of blackmail. et cetera, et cetera. but mostly she's stirring the tranquility pot, or, in the vernacular, trolling. ]

[seidhr]

You enjoy taking on fool's errands, do you? Well, by all means...

[Not that Loki himself feels terribly put out by the lack of a ship-wide charter of rights and freedoms. It is easier to wriggle through loopholes if there's a defined set of rules to support one's case, but he'll manage. He always manages somehow.]