AUGUST EVENT: DRAGSTRIP RIOT

[sailmods]

[it begins with a PA announcement on the morning of the 12th, Friday’s voice coming through clear and cheerful.]

Any passengers that wish to debark to our latest port of call can exit the ship through the metal detectors on deck zero! Please be advised that all alcohol will be confiscated prior to your exit!

[and whoever heads down to the lowest deck will find that what she said was true: there is a metal detector set up there, with Friday manning it. after placing all metal objects (including weapons, and all your weapons) onto the tray, she gestures for the passenger to step through the metal detector.

they exit in an entirely different location. suffering from a splitting headache, and wearing an entirely different outfit than they had put on this morning, but unscathed. they even got their weapons back!

the interior of the diner is essentially your average jonathan rockets establishment. the narrow lane between booths and counter is manned by an entirely mute Friday clone, who cheerily takes orders and serves up food (cooked??? somewhere???) with an almost unnatural talent for roller blading. there is a jukebox in the corner that can be fed with quarters passengers will inexplicably find on their person. the available songs range from the 50s to the 80s, with a particularly wide selection of songs from the platters.

outside, the diner is a great chrome boxcar, circled by a small parking lot. a large neon sign proclaims it to be GIL’S; it buzzes and flickers on and off often. passengers who have regained vehicles will find these vehicles parked outside. there are also a handful of midcentury American cars; none of them seem to require keys, and the gas tank seems set at full.

past the parking lot is a seemingly endless expanse of desert sand and scrubland, bisecting by the empty highway that the diner abuts. a few miles down this highway, the road forks into a smaller one, which winds its way up a steep, ragged mountain until plateauing into another parking lot, with only a small, old wooden fence between the cars and the edge of the cliff.

should they wish to return to the ship, passengers can leave at any time the same way they entered: walking through a doorway that now claims to be a mop closet. passing through will leave them on deck zero, again with a splitting headache. it’s probably fine.]

Comments

[configuration_birdwatcher]

The rapid motion makes Bastion flinch in surprise themself, completing the circle of startlement. Awkwardly, they boop a short greeting tune and wave. // Hello.

// Are you familiar with these plants? I'm not. It's nice to be around plants and dirt, though.

[prince_of_beasts]

"Ah, hello." On some level, Dimitri knows he's not hearing speech, but a melodic string of beeps and whistles. It processes as speech, though, which is a profoundly puzzling experience. Regardless, it seems this is another passenger, whoever -- or whatever -- they are.

"I'm not, either," he says, once he's reoriented himself. "I'm used to climates far colder than this. Based on the ship, and what I've heard of the Captain, they may be nonsense plants -- purely decorative, not anything real." The scrub stretches off towards a jagged horizon, gold sunset in (what Dimitri assumes is) the west fading to crimson with a luminous blue overhead. "They're nice to look at, though, aren't they? Much better than those replicas onboard."

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// I'm used to temperate or mild climates. Nowhere this hot.

They emit a mechanical noise that sounds like a disappointed sigh, but they nod. // More accurate simulacra than on the ship. I missed nature.

[prince_of_beasts]

"Me too. I can't help but think of a -- a companion of mine. He's a gardener, and he loves to cook ... there aren't any kitchens onboard, either. He'd hate it here." Dimitri echoes Bastion's sigh. "Well, we can only make the best of what we're given. At least we have this place, for however long it lasts."

His neck's starting to ache from the angle. Dimitri takes a step back, then cocks his head, squinting against the fading light. "Pardon my asking, but my world has very little by way of machines ... what are you?"

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// I miss my companion too. At least Ganymede's not being tormented by a sadist with supernatural powers, they suppose. They hope he's okay and staying out of reach of cats back home.

// An omnic. E54 Bastion model. None of that means anything to a human from before the Industrial Revolution, so they explain. // A self-willed mechanical person.

[prince_of_beasts]

"I see. Something like SecUnit, then?" Although SecUnit has organic parts. Dimitri can't pretend to understand how that works. "Or, ah, what was his name ... Maximilien? We met briefly."

Dimitri indicates the scrub. "Shall we walk? The light isn't getting any better." All that remains is a deep, red glow on the horizon, with stars emerging above. The moon should be up soon; it's been perfectly, smoothly full the entire time, so that will help.

"What's your friend like?"

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Bastion nods. SecUnit may or may not have introduced itself to them by name at this point, but there's only so many artificial beings that name could belong to. // I'm from the same world as Maximilien.

// He's a bird! His name's Ganymede. He's observant and empathetic and likes to eat seeds and worms. He's yellow-green with orange and black markings. He trusts me, and I trust him. Congratulations Dimitri you have signed up for Bird Infodump Time. Bastion continues to exposit upon the habits and personality of their best friend, who is a middle-aged father bird apparently, as the two of them stroll through the dark desert. The rising moon illuminates a stripey, moving shape on the ground, near a scrubby plant.

[prince_of_beasts]

Dimitri is delighted by Bird Infodump Time. He'd assumed Bastion meant a human friend, but this is so much better. Dimitri's never been much of a bird person, aviculture not being a developed practice in Fódlan, and Bastion's narration offers a window into a world Dimitri's never imagined. He can't help but think they would get on well with Marianne.

"I'd like to meet your friend someday, if the chance arises. Under better circumstances -- " Dimitri freezes at the glimpse of movement. "What was that?"

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Not needing to breathe and sending verbal content in bursts allows them to get out // I'm glad he isn't trapped here but I wish I had contact with him and // It's an animal!, so close on the heels of the last sentence that they're nearly talking over themself, in one audio string that ends with a shrill, surprised whistle.

// Hello? they say to the snake. // Can you talk?

They've met passengers in the form of talking animals; the snake might be someone from the ship.