[ the communicators aren't that different from the phones that used to be on earth, but wanderer is still having trouble getting used to it -- she'd been out of civilization more than she was in it, and hadn't had to use a phone in more than a year. she's spent a half hour messing with the thing, looking it over and testing its various functions before she feels comfortable enough with it to start up a post of her own.

at first the video is completely off-center, showing a view of wanda's shoulder rather than her face, but she corrects that quickly, offering a sheepish smile to the camera. her eyes look subtly luminous, not quite normal human eyes, but not so different that she doesn't think she should show her face. ]

Hello. I'm sorry to bother you all, but I had a question -- there was some medicine in my locker that I don't need. Is there a medical facility of some kind here? I would prefer to put it to good use than get rid of it. I can show you how to use it, if need be, though it's rather simple. The names should really give it all away. Thank you in advance for your help!

When you’re a kid, maybe you say to yourself:

"I wish I could go to Disneyland."

"I hope I'll get my cock sucked by fifteen. By sixteen, I better be banging someone in the back of dad's favorite car.”

"One day, I’ll get into Harvard and become a brown-nosing yuppie making bonuses bigger than my insecurity complex. I’ll get married even. Have a kid, maybe two. A dog. And if I'm really lucky, I won’t be miserable.”

Those are the sort of wishes that come true. The mundane ones. You don’t say: "Well, one day I’d really like to go up into space. Maybe spend a night or two in a space ship. A journey through space? Oh man, why not? Not like we've only gotten as far as the moon. ”

And then, bam. Space.

Life doesn’t work like this. You don’t get what you want and when you do, it never comes free. So, what’s the catch? Probing, space slugs taking over our brains, being sold as human cargo to a far away planet, a floating menagerie? The options are endless.

((ooc: If you guys could hit up this permissions post, it would be much appreciated. ))

[Eric really isn't the type for posting to the networks himself, but he has a need. A very specific one. With all of this temperature fluctuation, he needs to keep his body temperature more stable, since for some ungodly reason the changes in temperature actually bother him this semester. And that means regular feedings. Normally his smaller collection of donors is more than sufficient each month. This month, however, is far, far from normal.

When Eric turns on the camera he sits very still, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap. He's trying hard not to look as miserable as he feels, with all of this hot and cold that he's not supposed to be able to feel. And he's putting up a rather impressive front, at that. Behind him, Godric stands, just as still and straight himself, although a soft smile graces his own features.]

Ladies. Gentlemen. [The corner of his mouth quirks slightly, a show for the camera.] And the rest of you, whatever you are.

We're looking for volunteers. Donors, if you must be specific about it. Some of you might remember a similar request a while ago. Unfortunately, Captain Kirk is no longer here to speak on our behalf. That does not mean that we are asking you to blindly offer yourselves up. There are those on the ship that can vouch for our character in his stead. [He won't name names specifically on such a public forum, but they know who they are, and they should know that they're called to account, here with these words.]

I'll give you the Sparknotes version. Godric and I are Vampire. We drink blood, it is how we survive. Without it, we starve. [His eyes are fiercely blue.] Or freeze, as the case may be. As it stands, we need more than usual to make ends meet this month, thanks to the ship fucking around with its temperature changes, and deciding we need to share in the same effects. And that is where you come in.

[It is Godric's turn to speak up now, sensing that his progeny's temper is getting the better of him for the moment.] We have regular volunteers who donate to us, and their contributions are usually more than enough. But this is an usual situation, and we do not wish to overburden them. We're asking for temporary volunteers to supplement what we already receive. And any form of donation will do; if you have your blood drawn in the medical bay, they can set it aside for us at your request.

[Eric shifts in his seat, leaning against one of the arms of the chair.] Donors may remain anonymous, should you decide to take us up on this request. [He brings a hand up to rest his chin his hand. He sounds slightly bored with the spiel, and rehearsed as well, as though this sort of announcement and public speaking in general really isn't new to him at all.] Questions?

((ooc: Blue is Eric and green is Godric! There will be a log for this up shortly as well so keep an eye out for that!))

 [First, the screen is black, and there's the sound of scuffling, possibly half-dragged feet.

Then the comms unit tilts and whirls — turns upward to reveal a sweat-drenched kid's face, slightly wild hair in need of a trim and plastered to his forehead. He doesn't seem to pay the screen much mind, looking ahead in what appears to be a random, dim hallway. Not very far from home base, but enough that he clearly should have thought this through better. But then, Takeshi hasn't noticed that, now that he's found himself in a particularly hot spot... well, the power suit's not blocking out the heat anymore (not like last month, but he doesn't even realize the ship is making things worse--); in fact, it's making things way worse, and it's clear by the pale skin and the nauseated face that it's actually giving him heat exhaustion. Probably didn't help that he was chasing after something for a few minutes before that, using up valuable coolness and energy.]

Sorry... I thought — I thought I saw a lady, but maybe it wasn't a lady. Maybe it coulda' been any kind... But I saw them go in the hallways... I wanted to stop them 'cus if they go too far, they're gonna get lost...

[He breathes heavy, blinking just as heavily. His head hurts, and he wants to get mad, but he's also kinda' tired. He finally addresses the feed, wiping at his face with a black-gloved hand, all leather, all heavy, grimacing his lips at the discomfort. He blinks hard and forces himself to refocus, even though he feels a little dizzy. Dizzy, but more determined. Or something close to it. He speaks a little louder:]

S'hot out here. They're gonna... get into trouble.

But I dunno' where I am now.

My power suit's... not... M'getting hot. I don't remember getting hot like this before. I think my suit's broken.

Did anyone see a person run in the hall? Did they see anybody? Maybe someone found them. I swear, I saw a person. I don' want them to die — people die and get lost too much. Like Chase... Don't want the monsters to get them. Someone tell them not to go no more.

[ As a general thing, McCoy isn't exactly the biggest fan of making broadcasts like this, they're uncomfortable at best and painfully aggravating for him at worst. However, the fact of the matter is that sometimes they're unavoidable and this time, is one of those unavoidable times. What he does to maintain his comfort level, small as it is, is make sure the setting of his device is on audio. That way no one can see his face and yet he can still get across his point. ]

Hallucinations can be brought on by stress. That woman, Matine, she was seeing someone she knew with talons and seeing her mother. Mother wasn't here, and a man didn't have talons before that break. I know a few of you've already thought of it, assuming you've got a brain, but with what you all were saying she saw, the likelihood she wasn't hallucinating is slim. [ There's a pause, like McCoy isn't sure how to word his next thoughts. ] Anything we've been seeing from the past, all of those things are pointing to stressful, in some way, situations. All of us have— most of us who were here last month don't need me to mention what went on that might have stressed our brains.

Leaving the body in a constant state of stress especially one like the type anyone endures on this damn ship is enough to trigger hallucinations. And at the risk of probably making half of you hear something you don't want to, what happened to Matine could happen to any of us.

Ship seems to like to repeat things and I don't know about you, but I'm not a fan of having hallucinations like that. Especially when they end in me shooting someone.

[When Jack appears in front of the camera, he's all charm and charisma. These shared memory events haven't dampened his spirits too much. Even if the cat's definitely out of the bag to a few more of his fellow passengers than he would like, as far as his mortality is concerned. He sits forward, arms crossed in front of him, eyes focused on the camera, and he smiles, but there's a hard glint to it. Something's on his mind.]

Some of us are new here. Some of us have been here a long time. [He raises his arm and the number SEC-001-003 can be seen, for a brief moment.] Some of us have seen manticores and shadow people, malfunctioning space stations, black holes, space pirates, space sickness, mazes and never-ending corridors, hive-mind space colonists who tried to make us assimilate. We've been put on lists, given god knows how many riddles by Smiley, and don't even get me started on those masks. And then most recently the shared memories and the dreams. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong but I think the only non-horrible stop we ever made was the first, way the hell back at the Tansei station.

[He leans forward, his grin becoming more grim, his eyes more intent on the camera as he continues:] So we've got another jump coming up. Anybody wanna hazard a guess what's coming next? Welcoming all thoughts, theories, dreams, or desires, seeing as we really haven't got a clue, unless you know something I don't.

No matter how it goads you, no matter what you've seen, or what you think you might know--don't go looking. Nothing ever good comes of it, and nothing ever will.

If you're too arrogant, or too foolish to take my advice, then don't come running to me when it all blows up in your face.

 
Saw another memory. 

[Sam's voice is solemn, befitting the situation, but he hardly sounds thrown off by all this; he's unbearably used to visions by now anyway. This? This is similar enough. The added weight of feelings and thoughts make it heavier, and it's in the past instead of the near future, but it's still close enough.]

A woman someone called Biswas let a bunch of people out — experiments...? Test subjects used to try and... I guess mess with their DNA, make them better suited for to colonization. They all had numbers; she'd listen to them when she worked, sometimes, when they'd scream or cry for help. [He runs a hand over his face, exhausted suddenly by the thought.] She let them out, and 'Stephen' killed her. At least, I think he did; there was a gunshot, but...

[That's kind of where it ended.

His voice softens a bit, something cold sitting in the pit of his stomach.]

Anyone know anything about these people?

Worse off, do you think the numbers they had are like the numbers we had?

Are we — 

[He stops himself, frowning. Eventually, he just shakes his head.]

... I need to go for a walk. Keep me updated if you guys find anything interesting. I'll tell you what I can about what I saw in detail, if I can.

[And that's exactly what he does. Keeping an eye on the comms, of course, but also visiting the usual places: drink at the bar, resting with something to read in the gardens. Usually he likes the solitude — or maybe is just too screwy in the head right now to want company — but after seeing things like this... hard to want to be alone. He goes to the bar, to the library. He even combs over said library again, in vain. Like there'd be something new there.

Something about all this makes him too uneasy. Like something's going to happen. Not just the usual 'happen', either. 

He plops down and reads in the garden. Reads a downloaded, crappy story that was clearly half-assedly based on earth. Something about it being taken over and humanity being enslaved, or something. Very H.G. Wells, but with absolutely no accurate readings of earth, like an alien race guessed what the place was like. Funny how none of this makes him feel too much better.]

((OOC: omg ignore my delete i'm an idiot; also action brackets are okay with this post, if you're interested. I was gonna post a log, but this'll do :|b))

[The small, not quite comfortable smile she greets the network with is a far cry from the face she'd been sporting only a few hours before. It was one thing to accept her new lot in life for a day, maybe two- until reality really sunk in and the memories started pouring in. But she doesn't want to weigh in. She doesn't have the experience to, and even if she did- Her world extends only to those from Boston right now, and she needs to keep it that way]

I'm getting the impression the more hands there are in the medbay, the merrier. I'm a nurse from Boston. The- Uh, the year is 2013 if that matters. [It's space, it probably matters, she doesn't know- her nerd culture exposure is only by proxy. Her fingers curl around the steaming mug of coffee, and wishes it was a little less coffee and a lot more vodka. Still, it's hard to beat surprise breakfast in bed] I'd appreciate a guided tour, as soon as someone's available.

So let's get the mundane out of the way. I'm Nora- Josh's wife. I'm one of the new kids passing through here, but he's let me in on the fact that he's been around for- way too long. I feel like taking the lazy scenic route for making new friends and I'm going to keep stealing his.

So if you know him, why don't you come say hi? I'm thinking of taking a look around.

[Thankfully, for once, this isn't a security alert. Or maybe not so thankfully, because Taylor thinks she'd know how to deal with an incident like that way better than how she's been dealing with this one. The constant press of memories and invasion of privacy has left her tired, and while she looks (as usual) aggravated by something as she flicks the feed on, it seems just as dulled at the edges as when they were all suffering from insomnia.

But at least she doesn't have to talk much for this video.]

I just punched a wall.

[She holds her left hand up in demonstration, the skin on her middle knuckle split and bloody, the rest already starting to bloom red in early bruising. It's bad form, but she hadn't exactly wanted to take the time to wrap them, and lessening the pain would've defeated the point.]

If your hand hurts like this, stop what you're doing and contact me immediately.

[There's a pause, and she's pretty sure that whoever she's linked with has stopped, but just in case they decide that was a fluke and start up again--]

If you don't stop what you're doing, I'm gonna keep punching the wall.

[Not that she ever looks like she's joking, but she very evidently isn't right now.]

[ here's the thing: sleep deprivation makes idle whims seem like fantastic ideas-- and neal's not full up on self-control as it is, so two weeks of barely any sleep just raises great idea to best idea on his personal scale.

as such he's leaning against the wall behind his bed, pupils slightly blown. what is an intro he can't even. ]

Not we, my dear, you. I'm leaving you here.

You're what? Rhett, where are you going?

I'm going, my dear, to join the army.

[ his posture changes between; other than a few flat vowels slipping in as rhett, pushing for the accent seems a little too much and posture is good enough to convey the suggestion of gender, if you're careful. ]

Oh, you're joking. I could kill you for scaring me so.

I'm very serious, Scarlett. I'm going to join up with our brave lads in gray.

But they're running away.

Oh, no, they'll turn and make a last stand, if I know anything about them. And when they do, I'll be with them. I'm a little late, but better late than--

[ it's tricky to overlap your own voice, and his grimaces a little and shrugs as if apologizing for the lack of actual interruption in the scene. ( sleep deprivation or pretentiousness: the world may never know. ) ]

Rhett, you must be joking.

Selfish to the end, aren't you? Thinking of your own precious hide with never a thought for the noble cause. [ he yawns widely, skipping scarlett's line in the process. ] Why? Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for lost causes, once they're really lost. Or maybe, maybe I'm ashamed of myself. Who knows?

[ he pauses, body language returning abruptly to his usual. ] I missed something, there. Anyway-- [ and back to the show. ]

You should die of shame to leave me here alone and helpless.

You, helpless? Heaven help the Yankees if they capture you. Now climb down here. I want to say goodbye.

[ that makes him pause, one that extends out into another jaw-cracking yawn and neal slumps down even more, almost prone now. ]

There's more, but it's really better with someone else.

[ and he's out. ]

[ Good space evening, Tranquility! Did you say you wanted two exasperated, vaguely concerned doctors this evening? Yes? Good! Because there are two of them. Simon and Bones are broadcasting from the familiar backdrop of the Medbay, and it's clear that what they're about to say is very important. Simon speaks first, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers before addressing the camera. ]

If the recent network posts have been any indication, it seems that many of you have been experiencing insomnia. We're not sure if it's a result of the most recent jump, but Doctor McCoy and I wanted to take a moment to remind everyone that we do have treatment available in the Medbay for anyone who’s been having trouble sleeping.

[ There's a moment when Bones looks at Simon to make sure he's done mentioning the insomnia and the fact that there is the sleeping aids available from them. Unlike the other remedies from everyone's various homes, Bones thinks they may be more effective at combating the issue. He ends up rubbing at his eyes and picks up where Simon had left off. ]

We'd start you off at the smallest doses, of course, and if that doesn't work, tell us and we'll work up from there. In addition, there's been a rash of several of you all coming in with bloody noses, ears and occasional burst vessel in your eye or eyes. Or if you're supremely unlucky, you may have been caught on camera suddenly bleeding. Chances that all of you who've had those issues are coming into Medbay is slim to none, but both Doctor Tam and I are wondering just how many of you all— [ Not us, because clearly neither of them have dealt with it, really. ] have had that happen at least once or twice since this past jump. And if it's happened, how many times, as well as, where. Meaning your actual location and the place you were bleeding from.

We can't stress enough how important it is for you to come to Medbay if you think you're ill. Burst blood vessels in the eye will usually heal on their own, but a checkup never hurts.

[ Well, except when they do, but that's obviously not the point he’s trying to make. ]

[ But Simon, a little suffering is good for the soul! Except fine, valid point to make, even if Bones ends up giving him a bit of a look. ]

And if it actually does, then wouldn't you know it, we can fix that. [ But right, yes, they got what they needed to say out and someone's gotta end this feed with something better than that so as Bones is reaching over to cut the feed, he does say one thing as if to say goodbye. ]

At the off chance you're ill and you don't come by and I find out, I'm not above coming to find you and dragging you down here for that check-up.

[ And then the screen goes black. ]


( Green for Simon, Blue for Bones! )

[ so, tara's going to skip over how insane all this is, and how she's almost sure everyone and everything around her is a product of being drugged or knocked unconscious via blunt force trauma one time too many. it's-- not useful for one, and depressing for another.

trying to push down how utterly impossible this all is means the expression she turns to the network is her best approximation of the professional, slightly detached pleasantness needed at work. it's not perfect, but it is the best she can gather together over shredded nerves. ]

Does anyone have any acetaminophen-based painkillers? I know we have a medbay, but on the off-chance there's something more familiar I thought I'd ask.

[ and 'are these space drugs safe for fetuses' isn't a question she's necessarily going to leave up to hope and a prayer; it's also not one she'd like to ask out loud. and then, without warning: ]

...again? [ her smile breaks there, frustration and panic looming as she reaches up with slightly unsteady hands to brush at the thin line of blood trailing down and pooling on her upper lip. ] Fuck. [ that's muttered under her breath as she hunts for a towel. her frustration tempers a little as she composes herself, but space is clearly not her favorite thus far. ] And if someone could tell me that's going to stop soon, I'd appreciate it.

[ The flight crew is noisier than usual, a buzz of activity and excitement that is usually more toned down when Carolyn makes these posts. Part of the problem is that she's in the thick of it, where usually she'd move away; the other part is the shining white metal visible outside of the windows. ]

We docked somewhere.

[ Carolyn almost sounds like she can't believe it; in the background, it looks like someone practically has their nose pressed to the window to verify that they are, indeed, docked somewhere. ]

About ten minutes ago, judging by the noise we heard. It's gone now, which means-

[ There's a pause as someone says something, indistinct, but Carolyn's eyes widen a fraction. ]

One of the halls opened up. About 100 meters down from the shuttle bay -- we're definitely docked. Airlocks on both sides are open. [ She grimaces as she says this; luckily it actually seems to be oxygen and decent pressure over there. A few other crew members look fairly uneasy at the thought as well. ]

I shouldn't have to warn all of you to be careful if you head over there, but consider it done anyway. Let's not forget what happened last time. [ A beat then, helpfully: ] People were brainwashed and killed, last time.

[ Just before the video goes off, at least one person can be heard responding to that comment. ]

((ooc: YAY WE DOCKED AT ANOTHER PLACE THAT'S GOING TO TRY TO KILL US. Be prepared for the flight crew all over this post, guys.))

So now that I've read the handy little welcome manual and have established that this place is entirely too creepy--

[ She looks at the screen and sighs. Traces of concern and what might be fear accompany her mostly unamused look. It's probably pretty obvious that she took the time to make herself look at least semi-presentable before contacting the network. Her hair looks generally tucked into place and her usual daily makeup has been applied. ]

Is there anybody here who knows me? [ She expects at least a few yeses. She's practically New York royalty in her world. ] My name is Charlotte Clarke. I want to know if my family's here. The Graysons. Or anybody else from my world, I guess.

[ She basically just doesn't want to be here alone. ]

Also, I need to speak to a doctor. Preferably one who knows what they're doing.

[Godric is sitting, slumped casually in a chair in one of the common areas when he turns on the video feed. When he speaks, his tone is soft but clear, and he remains thoughtful as he speaks unhurriedly. This isn't a speech he's had planned out, but he knows what he wants to say.]

With every jump, we receive a variety of new passengers from a variety of different worlds. To some, this ship is not so dissimilar to what they are accustomed to. To others, it is the most foreign thing they have ever known. The worlds we come from vary like grains of sand, and although the welcome guide offers a rudimentary introduction into the unknown, and an invaluable insight into what has already come to pass here, it can only do so much to ease the culture shock.

As our worlds are different, so too are there differences in the types of people we are accustomed to, and how we react to those people. Some of you have vampires in your world, or werewolves, or shapeshifters. For others of you, these are merely fictional stories. But this ship acts as a nexus, and the first thing that any of us must understand is that all things are possible here, and not all things are as you might expect them.

I am a vampire, and not the only one aboard this ship. There are a few of us, but we are as varied as our worlds. Where some of us may have no reflection or cannot be recorded, for example, [he smiles here, the humor obvious] my kind certainly can. We have different cultures and different sleeping habits, and indeed, different eating habits, which is the thing that naturally concerns most newcomers.

While all vampires feed on human blood -- the sole thing we all have in common -- it can affect us differently according to our natures. Some of us, it seems, choose to refrain entirely from its consumption and come to no harm for it. Some of us can eat food and survive on that alone, the same as any human. And for those of us for whom this is not an option, there are synthetic options provided by medical, as well as many kind and generous people aboard who have willingly donated their blood so that we will not starve.

I tell you all this to reassure anyone who has recently come aboard, and found themselves alarmed by our presence. While I cannot vouch for all of us any more than a single human can vouch for all his species, I can say that most of us mean no harm, and wish only to live as peacefully as we can here. I tell you this also so that any vampire new to this ship can understand we are not in hiding, and that aggression is not welcome. And while I cannot speak for any other supernatural species aboard, I hope you will all understand that you have friends here.

[He leaves off there, but leaves the feed open for questions.]

[ And it all came down to this: ]

can't say i've met that many of you, not even close to half
but i'm September.
we have met, in a way, i'm sure.

[ There's a long, long, long pause before he reconnects with video. Perhaps some hesitation and reconsideration. That long pause for a breath and teeth gritting.

After all, it wouldn't mean anything if he couldn't admit to his mistake through his own words. With his own voice. ]

Well, and I... [ Blue eyes shift to the left. Perhaps he prepared for this? Squinting at his 'script'? ] I haven't been perfectly honest with all of you.

[ ...



And another. He clenches a hand. Uncertain what to do with himself. How to sit or look or keep his face looking this way. His tone. ]

I'm what you could call... a... Dream Eater? [ Yes, this tone is funny. He sounds uncertain about the title. ] I've been deceiving many of you. It's... a bit difficult to explain, but I've [ JEEZno, he rubs at his face before he blurts out the final piece. A little hiccup: ] I'VE BEEN invading—invading many of your dreams without permission.

[ Silence. ]

And eating them. 

[ Christ. ]

Enjoying them too, I suppose. Acting out people. Twisting things around. Finding out things that I have no right to. It's not surprising to have the tiniest bit of memory about my face. At least that.

I apologize for... my... behavior... and I'm sorry. [ September looks directly at the screen. How was that, Thranduil? ]

( ooc: Feel free to handwave September-dream interactions all you want with conversations! o/ )

[ jenna's hair is still wet from the customary post-jump four showers, all way too much of it piled in a knot on top of her head. it's almost a little odd to try and collect her thoughts enough for a post that used to be customary, and her smile flickers for a split second before she shakes her head and it returns, more determined. ]

Welcome, new freshman. [ she can't help huffing out a laugh at her own lame joke. ] Sorry, couldn't resist. More seriously, if we didn't skip another number sorry about the space kidnapping wave twenty one, but welcome to the Tranquility anyway. I'm sure there will be a lot of technical questions I can't answer at all, but the daily life thing is-- god help me, my normal by now so if any of you want to know about where the pool is, feel free to ask.

For anyone who wants to join in, there are dinners down on floor one. They're kind of a everybody pitches in deal, so it's work for food but trust me, after a little while here the work part isn't as bad because it has company attached. No screaming, no weapons, don't even think about starting a fight and no I don't care about the age-old household rivalry and honor right now about covers the basic rules.

[ she looks down, a little hesitant for the first moment. ]

Which brings me to part two: what to do if you don't can't survive on just traditional food. I know last month one of the other members of medical brought this up, but I wanted to add something-- I'm most experienced in dealing with the vampire side of things, but I understand coming forward isn't exactly ingrained for a lot of people. If you're not comfortable just yet and you need-- an advocate in medical, I guess, feel free to contact me.

[ a beat, and then she shakes her head and continues a little more briskly: ]

That's it, sorry again about the space kidnapping for the new kids.

[ Hannibal Lecter's calm blue eyes appear first, incredibly close to the camera, fixed and unblinking, at which point he retreats to a better distance. A smile is almost there, creasing the line of his mouth. ]

Good evening. My name is Doctor Fell, and it has the feel of an evening, don't you agree?

[ He settles down on his chair on the other side of the counter, set up as it is to look like the view of an office, irregardless of the fact that he's recording in one of the kitchens. It's just about possible to see the corner of one of the big freezers in the background. ]

I must come before you today in the wake of such dreadful circumstances as we witnessed several days ago. I hope your injuries are healing well, externally, at least. [ His head inclines, as though in deep thought. ] But in such cases, not all of the harm done is visible. If any one of you would like to discuss your experience - or any other experiences - with a qualified psychiatrist, you need only contact me to schedule a private consultation.

For those who do not, I recommend a solution of ammonia or a paste of baking soda, with which to remove the bloodstains from your clothes.

Finally, I should dearly like to speak to a Murphy Pendleton about his books, and if anyone should happen to know where there might be a ready source of fresh meat, eggs, or milk, I daresay it would guarantee you an invitation to dinner.