Lieutenant Ari Tayrey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
astrogator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-10-29 01:46 pm
astrogator) wrote in come_sailaway2023-10-29 01:46 pm
I'll send an SOS to the world
Who: Everyone who wants to!
What: Messages for the outside, NOVEMBER PLOT
When: Mid-October onwards
Where: By Phil's signpost, the lounge, Ari's cabin
Warnings: None yet, will update as needed
Notes: Credit to Batya for the first prompt!
1. Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
A day or two after the signpost goes up, a small table shows up next to it, with a large blank notebook from Sundries. It has been labeled on the front, in careful printing: MAIL CALL.
A nearby note, in the same printing, reads:
2. Only hope can keep me together
In the second half of October, Ari will be in the lounge and other communal areas with her laptop. Anyone who passes by, whether she knows them well or not, will be asked to help her with a project. She doesn't want anyone to be forgotten, she says. She wants a record, because existence is so uncertain. Her injury made her value the people here on the ship more, she'll say, - and the bandage still around her head might speak to that. She encourages people to let her make a recording of them, talking about themselves.
'We can do it however you like,' she'll say. 'Flatvid, looking direct into the camera, or I can activate the holorecorders, give you your own holovid. If you don't know what to say, I'll ask questions. Please?' Are you really going to turn down the earnest young Tradeliner?
3. Sendin' out an SOS
Late in October, Ari calls a meeting of her co-conspirators. She gives them each a different time to arrive at her cabin, so the first arrivals will get to spend time helping with video editing or rocket construction while they await the others. There's time for private chat - but when everyone who decided to come along should be there, discussion begins in earnest.
[ooc: prompts divided up below for organisational purposes; contact me or Batya if you'd like to do something different!]
What: Messages for the outside, NOVEMBER PLOT
When: Mid-October onwards
Where: By Phil's signpost, the lounge, Ari's cabin
Warnings: None yet, will update as needed
Notes: Credit to Batya for the first prompt!
1. Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
A day or two after the signpost goes up, a small table shows up next to it, with a large blank notebook from Sundries. It has been labeled on the front, in careful printing: MAIL CALL.
A nearby note, in the same printing, reads:
If you could send a message back home, or onward to the next place you want to go, what would it say? Write it here for posterity.Pens and markers are available, in a tall cup scavenged from the buffet table.
2. Only hope can keep me together
In the second half of October, Ari will be in the lounge and other communal areas with her laptop. Anyone who passes by, whether she knows them well or not, will be asked to help her with a project. She doesn't want anyone to be forgotten, she says. She wants a record, because existence is so uncertain. Her injury made her value the people here on the ship more, she'll say, - and the bandage still around her head might speak to that. She encourages people to let her make a recording of them, talking about themselves.
'We can do it however you like,' she'll say. 'Flatvid, looking direct into the camera, or I can activate the holorecorders, give you your own holovid. If you don't know what to say, I'll ask questions. Please?' Are you really going to turn down the earnest young Tradeliner?
3. Sendin' out an SOS
Late in October, Ari calls a meeting of her co-conspirators. She gives them each a different time to arrive at her cabin, so the first arrivals will get to spend time helping with video editing or rocket construction while they await the others. There's time for private chat - but when everyone who decided to come along should be there, discussion begins in earnest.
[ooc: prompts divided up below for organisational purposes; contact me or Batya if you'd like to do something different!]
no subject
Still, he struggles a little on where to start, so he asks Ari to prompt him with questions as he sits in front of the camera.]
My name's Siffleur. I'm a werecougar from Canada, on Earth, in the 21st century. I came here... a year ago. I am a cannibal, and I have killed and eaten fellow passengers on this ship, with their permission. This happened more before the ship's major fuel source was released from its enslavement, when the penalties paid for dying did not consistently happen. I'm happier here than I was at home, but my life in my world was not very good. ... I miss the forest very much, even if I have found a replacement in the infinite Tommy Bahamas.
no subject
Would you go back to Earth, if you could? Not having the natural world around you must be difficult. Or perhaps another green planet...
[Somewhat of a leading question, but she doubts he'll mind.]
no subject
[He scratches at his beard a little, even if it's not the same as before. And after a pause, he answers a question Ari didn't ask.] I think this place is bad for a lot of people, especially people like you. But I don't know if there would have been anyplace better than this for someone like me.
no subject
Nowhere better? I'm sorry that Earth was so bad for you.
[That's genuine, and with it, she gives up on the idea of coaxing the sentiments she wants to hear out of him. Maybe she could do it, but he's been plain about where he stands, and so it'd cross an ethical line to go against it.]
Maybe tell me what you enjoy about this place, then. All the things that make you happy.
no subject
[Talking about what he likes is surprisingly easy, and he relaxes the moment he starts going through things.]
The sushi conveyor belt. Dying and coming back. I spent my life afraid of the end, and then I come here and there's no end. I like that I never go hungry. Even now, there's plenty of food at the end of the week. It's always warm. I can sleep anywhere I want, no one bothers me. No cops. No bills. No taxes. Don't have to work. I've got friends who know all about me and they still like me. The people I eat come back. Sometimes they even like getting eaten. Got two boys I date, lots more people I flirt with, and nobody causes problems. Don't have to figure out tips anymore. Every day feels like a weekend. I like Friday a lot. I change shape and nobody gets scared. I can talk when I'm a cat, so I don't have to be a man to have a conversation.
[He lapses into silence, a dozen more items coming to mind, but they're all just smaller versions of what he already said.]
... if Earth had let me live there the way I live here, I could have been a better parent for my kids.
no subject
She doesn't argue. Doesn't even query any of it. She asked the question, he gave his answer, and her job right now is to document it, not debate him. Still, he might detect a hint of skepticism in her expression, briefly.]
I didn't know you had children. You must miss them.
no subject
no subject
It's good that you send money. It's more than some people do. [Ask Tayrey about her biological parents. Or don't.
She resolves to bring up the subject another time, after they're done recording.]
If you don't want to go back there, what are your hopes for the future? If it were up to you, what would happen here?
no subject
[The future is always a hard thing to think about. He's spent so much of his life in the moment. Siffleur sighs.] Be nice if we could figure out something permanent. We need a new fuel source, and it shouldn't be a person. Mom has these ideas about like, siphoning power from other universes, so I gave them to Friday. If we had power, we wouldn't need suffering and stuff, and people who want to leave could leave, and people like me and Ava could stay with Friday.