[ there's a click of a lighter, then an inhale, before jax breathes back out. chain-smoking his way through the last couple weeks is hurting his supply, but it's also the best way to deal with stress. and unfamiliar memories. and everything else going on up here. ]

I'm not looking to get all touchy-feely about this shit, but I gotta say it. Some of you people got weird fucking lives, you know that?

[ it's meant to be a joke, but jax ends on a note that's much, much too tense to really carry it off. ]

Anyone figured out how long we gotta put up with the trip down memory lane, or we just waiting till the other shoe drops on this mess and someone's head explodes?

[ The view is of a casually seated man, the comm filming him from a skewed angle on his desk. He never takes much care about how he records these things on the network.

He'd tried to ignore it, and he knew speaking up might not lead to anything—for all he knew everyone on the ship was going to have him singled out as a crazy man after he made this post. But he wasn't one to stay quiet, not over something like this. Not after the last couple of months. ]

Okay, this might sound weird, but well, you know. Not like this is the most normal place, or anything. You know how we all went through some of the same stuff for the last couple of months? Insomnia, and all that? Well, now I'm getting flashes—not dreams, 'cause I'm awake, and they're kind of too real...almost like... Well, it's hard to explain, okay.

Anyway, I'm wondering if anyone else has noticed something like that. 

[ there's no explanation or introduction attached to the message despite her obvious newness in the 022 of her i.d. number, just a direct, pressing question: ]

Is it pretty common for people's memories to get screwed with here?

[ the number's a 022, but there's no questions about where they are or when they get to go home. will doesn't even really want to be making this post, but people are talking about animal bones, human remains, blood. and that's kind of his gig. ]

I'm not a trained forensic analyst, but if we've got the equipment to do so, I'd be willing to try and take a look at the organic tissue people found in their lockers. I got meat. Anyone else?

Oh, my god.

[ stiles' voice has the kind of self-contained excitement in it that someone might get upon being given a quad bike for their fourteenth birthday. or, you know, a pony. there's that same kind of delighted anticipation of fun times ahead. ]

You guys will not believe what I found.

[ his voice is pitchy and he's in close up in the dim light, eyes wide and too-dark in his pale face, before he turns to film... well. ]

An actual freaking body!

[ which is all the warning given for the squeamish before it's on camera. the body is very clearly human, even if all its distinguishing features have been removed. its pieces join unnaturally together, arm sewn to shoulder to torso to leg, and the whole thing hangs suspended from several strings, like a puppet. ]

[ stiles fumbles the camera back to himself. he swallows. it's cool, but also, you know, he's kind of creeped himself out already just wondering if the killer might still be around. but that's not exactly a thought he's about to put voice to. ]

I'm about fifteen minutes heading left from the Shuttle Bay, I think, if someone wants to come cut it down.


(( as per dex and bri's excellent adventure. eta action for investigators. ))

Couldn't imagine a friendlier welcome than getting attacked by space pirates. And here I thought this was going to be more the dinner show and buffet type of cruise. 

Guess that's why they call it the Tranquility.

Anyway, so I've got two questions:

The thing I don't get is-- we've been kidnapped from our... worlds, but where are we going exactly? They kind of forgot to put that on the brochure. [ that, and everything else. like why they need to kidnap someone in the middle of extremely important business ]   Not trying to sound ungrateful, because hey, I'm in space.  Fulfilling the fantasy of every 10 year old kid. Still, it would've been nice if they'd let me clear my schedule first.

And number #2: anyone looking for a bartender?

[ instead of a feed starting, a 'program' begins to run, scrolling down across the screen. no, this isn't really a post (though it kind of is). deal with it. or... y'know, don't. it's entirely up to you. but chuck won't be responding to anything himself. it's a game okay, A REAL GAME. BE ENTERTAINED and choose your own adventure. (p.s. responses of any form are allowed.) ]


.....

> .RUN ADV004
interactive fiction story -- intersect corporations
copyrighted © 2009 by intersect co. all rights reserved
release 001. serial number 890023

( title sequence not ic cut! )

> WELCOME TO YOUR ADVENTURE!!!

Choose wisely on your quest through the caves to defeat the terrible trolls.
They may have thick skin but you do not.

> start _


> YOUR ADVENTURE BEGINS ....

You awaken to find yourself in complete darkness, rock hard ground beneath you. You are entirely unharmed and soon discover you are able to move freely through an open space. The only sound that can be heard is the faint dripping of water in the distance, accompanied by its echoes.

WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT?

> _

[Marty has retrieved his things from the locker; themos-bong, I've missed you so much. So, so much. He has it in his lap and sets it aside, plenty done with it for a good while. It's given him clarity; time to reflect on his life, on his future, on an evil ship doomed to ruin him as much as everything else has.

Okay, so he actually just came into his room, curled up, and cried for a little bit. And then smoked more. It's his depression solution.

But he's good now. He's cross-legged on his bed, looking as though he's been pondering considerably on the state of the Marty. Only whatever redness to his eyes can be contributed to his bong, if anyone questions it--he's too busy focusing on the now, instead of the then. It'll do him no good to let it drag him down; he can keep having all this doubt and survivor's guilt, but he can't let it crush him--because it wouldn't be fair to the others, when they never got the chance to come back.

No, he can figure it all out. He can think long and hard and maybe he can help these people where he couldn't help his own.]

Have you ever wondered if this place is your world's future? I know that's really morbid thinking and all, but this has to be in somebody's future--doesn't it? Maybe something crazy happened, people had nowhere to go, so they ran off to space. It's not like it's the craziest idea out there; we had--whole movies dedicated to stuff like this. Syfy originals. Books. Hell, I think I heard a radio story from ye olden days about it.

[He waves a finger at the air, looking off distantly.]

... I just can't figure out where everything went crazy aboard the ship--maybe there's some... entity. Like a spirit, or a god. Maybe it's getting its sick thrills off making us dance around like little lab rats. Or maybe it's whatever those hypothetical entities created. Maybe--maybe we're just being watched by something that brought us here just to see what we'll do. People say there's no reason we're here, or we haven't found one. But if I had to bet my piggy-bank back home on something... it'd be that. I'd guess it's also why it won't let anyone go out too far from home plate. Or why there are people who aren't people anymore.

Whatever we do, we gotta stick together. Or else... things'll just go from worse to worser. We gotta hang in there. Fuck Smiley and the monsters and the lack of wonderful snack foods--we gotta... just stick together...

[He's rambling now, whoops. Sighing at the sir, he reaches over, grabs his bong and talks as he turns the top, condensing the whole thing down into a normal thermos mug. ILU, thermy.]



I'm gonna go try to invent new things in the kitchen. Anyone wanna go? This place needs way more comfort food, and I'm pretty competent at Macguyver-ing together something worthy of consumption. Might even be able to do it without setting the whole ship on fire, too.

[HA HA it was a joke

just a joke

and then he wanders off without shutting down the feed. Distantly, and growing fainter:]

Maybe I can manufacture some space strain of toaster strudels. 

[And true to his word, he'll be in the kitchens to see what awful abominations he can make wunderbar. He'll answer anything there, too, while he's at it and he remembers to retrieve his comm. Now... what does this place have in the way of sweet stuff? Surely lots of cans and cans and cans and oh look boxes. Feel free to actually find him there, casually drinking from said thermos.]

[This is that moment in a horror movie where comms just start going staticky like crazy and you're sure there's actual talking going on, but it's almost entirely garbled, either because of the mass panic of the person the other end or because it's plot convenient. WHO KNOWS. Either way, Topher's comm is doing a lot of static and the only thing that actually gets through in the haze is a single sentence.]

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░DID IT HAVE TO BE RATS?!


[Congrats, TQ. Now everyone knows of Topher's rodent problem. For the record, he's sequestered in a far corner of the genetics labs to avoid the rats and most of his shouting is telling people THERE ARE RODENTS HERE. GET THEM GET THEM. We can assume someone dragged him bodily out of the labs later, but for now? HE AIN'T MOVIN'. Or contributing.]

[ There is a naked, brightly glowing blue man standing a short distance away from where his comm device is holding steady in the air. He’s hardly bothered by the fact that he’s naked... nor does he look as if he’s bothered by, well, much of anything. ]

It has become clear to me that, while I am entirely capable of moving my own matter both through time and space, I have been moved into a plane that has hindered this ability. I have found that i’m unable to manipulate my own particles to the extent that I have become accustomed to. It seems that this is not true in all instances, however. [ His tone indicates a shrug might go here, but he doesn’t move an inch. ] I was not able to foresee this event, likely a cause of whatever is altering my intrinsic field.

[ Jon almost sighs, almost looks dejected, but mostly looks nothing too terribly different. ]

While I am aware that this is possible, I have yet to understand exactly how it’s occurring. Once I have, however, I intend to stop it. I have begun research in the science department for this reason only. [ Still as blase as ever. ]

I am curious, however, as to how this plane affects the atoms of others. It can only serve to further advance my own research if I understand how other particles have proven to react in such a place. [ He tips his head slightly, curiously, and then proceeds to wait for his answers. ]