[Claire appears on the screen, relatively calm though focused. She's sitting, busying herself with something before looking up.]

So what is our purpose here? What are we supposed to do here? I'm interested in what people have done here so far. What sort of lives are to be led? Are their jobs, duties, how does survival work in space -- if that is to be believed.

I'm assuming I have no handler, and if this is some bizarre Dollhouse, then it's something I haven't seen. [And if it's the Attic, she doesn't care that she just outed the existence of Dollhouses.]

I do better with routines. I am a doctor. Sort of. It's what I know how to do at least.

[Christian still isn't sure he's using this thing, whatever it is, correctly. It confuses the hell out of him. But he's seen other people popping up on his screen, so he can only assume that when he pushes something that says video and sees his own face on the screen that everyone else can also see it.

He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and-]

Hello, my name is Christian, and... well, I'm really not sure at all what I'm doing.

[His expression tightens a bit, his eyebrows drawn together. The confusion his clear on his face- and fear.]

Everything is very strange and I suppose I would really just like some sort of better explanation for what's going on.

[Should he stop there? Should he keep going? He clears this throat again.]

Right, well. Thank you.

[ There's a voice full of gravel and smoke (fire and brimstone) crackling over the airwaves the 'evening' of the jump. ]

Welcome, welcome, boys and girls, to the Good Ship Lollipop.

I assume you've all had a bit of time to wipe that placenta off of your faces from what we call the gravpouches and settle in. And some of you more clever lot may have even had time to read over the welcome message procured by one of your fellow travelers.

But if you haven't, here's the skinny: you're in space. That's right - drifting in a frigate in a galaxy far, far away. No, we don't know how you got here. No, we don't know why, exactly, you're here. Have some dignity and do stop asking us for information on it - it gets extremely tiresome after about the second broadcast.

Do have a sniff around for that information. You may find a lot of those burning questions are answered there.

I'm here, though, to tell you about some things you haven't quite thought of yet.

First off, on the issue of leadership - the official text answer is that you talk to Ward and Resnik. They're driving. However, ask anyone who's been here for a month without their fingers in their ears and you'll hear that this show is run by Captain James Tiberius Kirk - yes, that Kirk, for all you Trekkies. Try not to wet yourselves.

Secondly! If you are human - congratulations! You are the 99%. If you're not, and you have a diet that consists of flesh, blood, or human misery, you might just want to keep that to yourselves. Or talk to Kirk or those boys in the medbay; word on the air is that they're running some sort of soup kitchen.

Finally, for those of you who are wondering about what's on the itinerary for your forced vacation, let me give you a summation of what our delightful host has prepared for us in the past few months. There's been: halls that do a great impression of Endless Youtube, skeletons in the hallway, strange sigils on the wall, hostile alien take-overs, and, just this last month, demon infestation!

Do you feel as if you're being watched? Well, you are, if anything our red-fonted, smiley friend with no traceable source is any sort of authority. I think some people have postulated that the ship itself is alive and, in fact, responsible for bringing us here. It must have gotten bored of its old crew, but after seeing a few of you sorry sods in the locker room this morning, I'm going to have to question its taste a bit.

Well, I think that's about it. If you've got any interesting questions, I might just answer them.

I'm sure a few of you are about to be very cross with me for spilling the beans, and here's my rebuttal: Shame on you. These people deserve to know the truth of what they're in for, especially if they're smart enough to have stuck with me this far.

You've reached the other side of the looking glass, my dears. The sooner you realize you're in for one hell of a ride, the better off you'll be.

Kisses.