AUGUST EVENT PART TWO: GIL'S ALL-FRIGHT DINER

[sailmods]

[someone has to be the first to notice.

is it someone on the ship? who passed through the metal detector, only to find themselves still standing on deck zero; who watched Friday freeze up suddenly before fleeing from the room, hands wringing together?

or is it someone in the diner? who opens the portal door to find that it's now a real closet? who notices that the clone Friday has disappeared completely, along with every native vehicle? someone has to notice it first, and then spread it through the crowd like contagion. who's first?

it doesn't matter. all communication has been cut off. all access has been blocked. for now, on both sides of the portal, the passengers are on their own.

for now.

the sun has disappeared over the horizon. the beginning of stars in purple skies. and everything is completely silent.

for now.]

Comments

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Some time after seeing the portal shut off on deck zero but before it reopens, Bastion makes their way to the formal dining room, which is not a place they've spent much time. They were told the passengers left on the ship were meeting up there, so here they are, meeting up.

Specifically, they're lurking by a wall and radiating dread. They're pretty sure most of the people they know are stuck on the other side of the portal - they haven't seen Maximilien, Ylva, the cyborg construct, or anyone else familiar except Pratt - which is deeply unpleasant to have happen again so soon after dealing with that aspect of their arrival.

[businessorlibation]

Johnny doesn't know what to make of Bastion; such tech isn't entirely a thing in his world yet. Well, besides Ochre, but Johnny's never met Ochre for himself.

Still...

"You look sturdy, friend. If there's any who return too injured to get around, would you be willing to help carry them to whatever triage area we set up?"

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Bastion nods, beeping an acknowledgement. They could easily carry an injured human, or an omnic or cyborg smaller than themself. (Hopefully that last clause won't be relevant.)

// How long do you estimate it'll take them to return?

[businessorlibation]

He is completely surprised to understand their communication, eyebrows raising in mild shock.

"I have no idea. I hope not too long. There's people I care about out there still."

And he's here, stuck and scared and scrambling to be able to do something.

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// Likewise. They make a synthesized noise that sounds a lot like a sigh. // I hate being stuck on the wrong side of a portal where I can't help my friends.

That's been happening to them a lot lately!

[businessorlibation]

That sighing sound is kind of adorable, Johnny notes, and files that away as something to examine at a time when they're not under such stress.

"Well. We can be ready to help them when the portal opens, right? Because I am completely and utterly certain they'll need it, when the time comes. In the meantime, how does one properly address you? I've...ahm. I come from a time before computing engines are ambulatory and so articulate."

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// Call me Bastion. It's what humans generally prefer to use; no point adding the other half of their model number as a second option if nobody takes it. // I'm an omnic.

[businessorlibation]

"I'm afraid I don't really know what an omnic is, Mr. Bastion. As I said, my world is hardly so advanced; it's only 1918."

Nevermind that his world does have computing engines at all, just not ones who walk freely.

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Adding the title is an attempt to be polite, they know, but being addressed as if they were a man is unfitting and uncomfortable, and the human did specifically ask for their preference. // No male or female honorifics, please.

Wow, he's from a long time ago. They make a small surprised whistle, then go on to explain, thankful that his point of origin has something at least vaguely similar to use as a point of reference. // In my world, it's 2077, and omnics are sapient, self-contained, mobile computing engines. The Omnica Corporation built the first ones and the term was genericised afterwards.

[businessorlibation]

“Right, understood. Are you, ah, nonbinary then?” César had given him the words for concepts like this, and though at the time he’d gotten stuck on ‘transgender’ for Some Reason, the rest had been reinforced since.

“Regardless of your creation, I will respect you for who you are.”

[configuration_birdwatcher]

It's odd to think of themself as belonging to the same category as people who have any sort of specific gender, but the nature of this particular category is that it covers all options that aren't exclusively one of the two most common, including 'none of the above' and 'undefined'. So it's accurate, even though it's a framing they're unaccustomed to. // Confirmed.

// Thanks, they say, not having really considered the possibility that a human might simultaneously disrespect them and make an effort to converse politely and directly with them, but appreciating the affirmation anyway. // What's your name?

[businessorlibation]

"Johnny Summer." He's not sure if omnics do handshakes, and they're a little rushed anyway, so he doesn't offer, but there's a brief flashed smile.

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Bastion gives him a purposeful, affirmative nod in response, not having the facial articulation for a smile.

// Where's the triage area?

[businessorlibation]

"We're using the atrium for now. It's large and near where people will be coming back onto the ship. Are you heading that way?"

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// Sure. They're not heading any particular way - they can worry anywhere - so relocating to the atrium isn't an inconvenience. They start moving in that direction.

// How long have you been aboard? You sound experienced. It's tempting to withdraw into themself and talk to humans as little as possible, but that would free up more of their attention for worrying about things they're powerless to affect, so instead they're extending the conversation on purpose. That, and they really are curious about Johnny's answer.

[businessorlibation]

“Since March. I was one of the first group on this voyage.” It’s strange sometimes, imagining those early days aboard. Everyone fumbling, lost, paranoid, suspicious before bonds started to form and secrets started to be shared.

[configuration_birdwatcher]

// I've been here 17 days. It was March in their world, but it's August here. July when they arrived. No matter what the post timestamps say.