[AW] The Facility, June and Di

edited December 2010 in Site Matters
This is a high-tech facility, filled with lots of incredibly advanced technologies, where presumably military scientists of some kind were performing intense and complicated work on a regular basis. The corridors are not very large; this is in the bowels of an aircraft carrier, after all. So there is some arching of the ceiling, and they're not particularly wide. But they are clean and covered. The floor is a reflective black, while the walls I envision as a plain white. Seemingly fluorescent lights line the ceiling (although of course, these are those weird fluorescent lights like the one outside, that don't burn out very easily, and shine faintly green, just to make it weird). They fill the corridors with ample light. The individual rooms of the stasis section are all separated off by massive, metal, thick doors, each one with its own panel for entering a security password and card. There are labels on most of them, but they are one word, and unclear at best, printed in red paint upon the gunmetal gray doors. The armory is towards the end of the main corridor of the stasis section, and the door there is already open. Inside the armory, the room is stark and much more military, pragmatic, grating for floor again, and lots of cabinets filled with guns and armor. June isn't entirely sure out of which door she must have come, although she knows she somehow must have come out of one of them when she emerged from her pod. There are multiple doors which are labeled "Pods," and one that is labeled "Release".

That's what it looks like. This is what it feels like:

When you enter the facility, it's like a weight being lifted off of your chest. A pressure being released from your ear drums. A crushing being lifted from your soul. You feel safe. Secure. And, above all, rejuvenated.

The facility was built into the aircraft carrier, within one of the hangars. So, while the corridors aren't very large, some of the chambers are. However, many portions of the facility seem closed off, dimmed from view.

June, what's the living quarters like? There is a dining space, a rec room, etc... For some reason, this facility seems to have been built to sustain itself entirely. Have you spent much time here in the facility in the days that have gone by?

Di, Mox is walking around, keeping close, but looking at everything in amazement.

"Holy shit. What is this place? I've never seen somewhere so... clean."

Tammy is walking near you. She's wearing this tank-top shirt, white but dirty, under a black jacket with zippers all over it. She seems just as mystified as Mox, but in a totally different way. She's looking forward, examining everything, but her lower lip is quivering ever-so slightly.

Mox speaks up again.

"June, you have anything to eat in here?"

What are the two of you doing?
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Comments

  • Living quarters are spartan, simple. They needed the room for the more important chambers, I'm assuming, so there's a series of small rooms with 2 bunk beds apiece and one footlocker at the foot of each bunk bed. The rooms are off a side corridor. Sheets are in the footlockers, so I pulled a blanket on when I slept on the beds, but I didn't actually make them. There's a small kitchenette with a couple of tables and sets of chairs. It's got a stove, a microwave, a fridge. There's a pantry full of condensed foods of various sorts. MREs, even ramen. That I do remember, for some reason. The scientists loved their ramen. A couple cases of bottled water back there, too.

    I usually try to make sure I'm back in the stasis area by the end of the night, but otherwise, I've been out in the main ship,trying to figure out more of what's going on. Answers aren't coming to me in stasis, so I decided to go and find them at gunpoint.

    "There's food...Mox." The name still tastes strange in my mouth. "But it's going to wait for the time being, unless you're on the verge of collapse. You're going to start talking about the world out there, about where you're from, how things are, and you're not going to stop until I tell you. If you want food, that is."

    (So, I totally wasn't going to make this a roll at first, but now...I want to make it a Hot roll. Leverage is that I know where the food is, and how to prepare it, and I'm banking on Mox not being the brightest crayon in the box. I want him to tell me as much as he can about the world outside, more than some would consider safe to say.)

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+1 )

    (highlighted for an advance. +1 sharp.)
  • "Humpf."

    Mox puts his hands on his hips. He turns back to Di.

    "Can you believe this bitch?"

    And, back to you. He's pushing his longer hair out of his eyes.

    "What kind of food you got?"
  • "'This bitch' is still holding an assault rifle, I will remind you." There's nothing harsh in my voice, though, and I can tell. They probably can tell, too. I may not trust these people entirely, and I'm certainly still confused about what's going on. But I'm not going to point a gun at them any time soon, not unless one of them tries to pull on me.

    "And I have all kinds of food." It's not entirely untrue, either. There are probably a variety of foods in condensed, powdered form, waiting some brave soul to take them from the pantry. "Noodles. You start talking, and I'll get you one cup of noodles. Deal?"
  • "Noodles. Hmmm."

    Mox is thinking real hard on it.

    "What kind of noodles?"
  • "I don't know, the pasta kind. Ramen, I think. You want them or not?" What do I look like to him, a cook?
  • You can Mox is really just gauging whether you're telling the truth about the noodles.

    "Alright. Deal. But, I want some for all of us, a cup for Tammy and Di too. What do you want to know? "
  • "As I said, start talking. I'll tell you when to stop. Why don't you begin with where you're from, what it's like there. I don't even know where we are. Massachusetts? Is the federal government still in charge in any way? State governments? Or is it all down to anarchy?" As I speak, I head to the pantry area, and grab three cups of ramen. I pour the necessary water into a pot using some of the stockpiled water bottles, and I set it on the stove to boil.
  • Mox takes a seat at one of the tables in the dining area. He rests his forearms on the table and leans forward. You can tell he's fucking hungry.

    "Uh, Massawhat? I don't know what that is. There's no governments that I know of. If you want to know who's in charge, that'd probably be Uncle 'round these parts. Although, his arm doesn't even stretch out this far. Most people don't know about this place, 'cept for me and Di and apparently some people Di told about it. I'm from Brockway. Grew up there. But, I left as soon as I could. Met Di and we've been traveling since."

    Mox looks over toward Di, who's messing with Tammy at the moment.

    "We're sort of a thing."
  • "A...thing?" I blink. Then I move on past it quickly. Not the thing to think about right now, June. Focus.

    "You don't know Massachusetts. You're from Brockway." Where the hell is Brockway? Some podunk town I never heard of, maybe? "No government, except someone named Uncle." That sounds promising. A name like Uncle practically screams "would-be benevolent despot" to me.

    "Traveling where? Doing what?"
  • edited December 2010
    "Nah, I don't know know Massachusetts. But, Brockway is a shithole. Yeah, Uncle runs shit from the Chateau. He's got a bunch of Rough Riders that'll fuck you up if you mess with him."

    Mox is digging into his pockets now for something.

    "We've just been traveling around, wherever. I think after this we were going to go find someplace to settle down. Di wants to open up shop somewhere. Somewhere where she can offer her services, for a nominal fee of course. She's a fucking angel with medical shit. Yah know? Me and Tammy, we're going to be her assistants I guess. I don't know. Maybe have a kid or something."
  • (WOW Mox is hysterical!)

    "Uncle has Rough Riders. Military men? Any particular branch, or are we talking a militia, here?" If some part of the military still exists, they may be my saving grace. The order, the direction...I'm sure they'd love to know that this place still exists, too.

    "And yes, I gathered that Di was good at medicine. Although she does seem a bit young to be having a child. How many doctors are there in the area nowadays? And tell me more about the geography, and the climate. Living standards. How many people are there?"
  • "Yeah, military men. Umm. Not sure if they're a branch or a militia. Probably both."

    He fishes out a smoke from his pockets. It's all broken up.

    "Damnit. You got a light?"

    Cigarette between lips, bouncing as he speaks.

    "She's not as young as she looks. Hell, some people think she's a boy, cause she's scared to show how pretty she really is. Cuts her hair short and all that. I don't blame her. If I were a girl in this world, I'd probably hide it too. Doctors? Uh, not many I guess. Di's the only one I've seen really help people. Living standards are shit for the most part. But, occasionally you can find a nice place to crash with a bed. That's heaven. I don't know what to tell you about the geography and climate. It's fucking cold? Lots of rivers and lakes, trees and hills. I mean, what exactly do you want to know? People? Lots of people. Lots of sick fucking people. That's where we come in."
  • "No, I don't have a light. Smoking's not a good habit, it'll kill you eventually." The words come from me on autopilot, without any thought behind them. I'm too busy trying to parse meaning out of Mox's statements.

    It's hard to figure out anything conclusive, but for all intents and purposes, it sounds like conditions have significantly worsened since when I was last out. That's not entirely surprising, of course. Although the tidbits bout geography are interesting, if frustratingly vague. Lots of rivers and lakes, trees and hills? Hmm. Rural Connecticut? But how would the carrier have gotten there?

    "Where's the nearest hub? The nearest place of major importance? City, village, town, whatever, where there's important people with power? Where's this Uncle and his Rough Riders headquartered?"
  • Mox is chuckling.

    "Kill me? Heh. There's a lot more to be worried about than smokes, June."

    You get the feeling he's clearly unaware of the Surgeon General.

    "Hub? Well, there's not a lot near here. We're going to have to head back toward the Chateau if you want to get back into places of importance and Uncle's Rough Riders. I guess we could take you there. But, honestly, I'm ready for my noodles."
  • I follow the directions on the ramen containers to the letter, and I serve Mox his cup, handing him a plastic spoon as well.

    "One more thing, and I'll let you eat. What is there to be more worried about than smokes? What, exactly? What are those things spread out throughout the ship?"
  • edited December 2010
    "I have no fucking clue what they are, man. But, I know they're everywhere and fucking brutal. Don't ask Di about the cat Tammy replaced. It's not a fun story. But, outside of that, you've still got raiders, gangs, Uncle to deal with if you don't pay tribute. Life ain't fucking easy. And, smokes, well, they make it that much more bearable."

    Mox snatches the noodles from your hand and digs in.

    "Mmmm. This shit is fucking good. Di, you gotta try this. June, heat some up for Di and Tammy."
  • I'm about to say something harsh to Mox, but I bite it back. No sense getting angry with a civilian giving me orders, not in this situation. I start heating up water and making ramen for Di and Tammy. As I'm doing it, I'm in my head, planning, thinking, ordering. There are some bags I managed to salvage from other areas on the ship, and heavy duty duffel bags from the armory. I'm working out in my head how we could fill them up with all the guns and the armor, along with as much food from here as possible.

    This place may be safe, but the ship on the whole is not, and I'm not going to understand the way the world is now just from secondhand reports. I need to go out, see it, and then, maybe, I can figure out how to fix it.

    I feel my face turn grim as the thought flits across my mind: because, even though I can't remember it...I may be responsible for helping make the world this way.
  • edited December 2010
    Great. Let's pause there and see what Di has been up to in the meantime.

    Spector's arrival will be prompted after Di gets in on some action.
  • Gonna lay dice on reading June, but I'll be posting properly just after:

    #DiceRoller( 2d6+2 )
  • Great. June, you can read Di as if you hit a 10+. She's looking at you and you can tell she's trying to look into you, but you're seeing right through her.
  • I'm torn between June's desires and my desires for June.

    I can hold onto the hold for later in the conversation, right?

    I'll spend one for "What does your character wish I'd do?" first.
  • Tammy and I are there in the kitchenette, near the doorway, but for the last minute here I've just been watching the two of you. One of my hands is up at my mouth, absently, and I sort of lightly bite at the tip of my index finger. It's a somewhat childish gesture, but my eyes are sharp enough to belie that, sliding as if on oiled castors from you, to various points in the room, to the doorway into the pantry ... thinking.

    I'm saying something in a murmur to Tammy ("Hey. You should get some food, yeah? When you're ready."), and I'm coming over. I unzip my bunker coat and sling it across the back of Mox's chair, knocking him lightly in the back of the head to make him lean forward a touch, so I can do that. Knobbly knit wool is the top layer now, undyed, and there's still plenty more beneath that. Somewhere in there, I'm rolling my shoulders around.

    I drop a lighter by Mox's hand - a simple steel affair covered in chipped lacquer, bright red. I raise a cigarette of my own, getting a cherry going, and you can already tell that it's not exactly tobacco. There's that sort of skunky weed smell, layered in with God knows what else in the way of fragrant vegetal crap.

    I'm kind of trying to catch your eye, to read you now that you're in your home, or whatever, but you're opaque now. Whatever, I just ask:

    "Hey, June? Could I maybe talk to you for a minute?"

    I'm nodding back at the doorway. Right this second, that's what I'd like: to talk to you privately somewhere. This is weirder than I expected, in here, and your questions right now have been just as odd as everything you've said up until now. I want you to help me sort out what's going on, and I want that to happen someplace not in front of Tammy.

    Beyond that, I wish you'd loosen up a bit. Maybe stop referring to your gun as much? We all know you don't mean it.
  • I look from Di to Mox to Tammy. Mox doesn't seem exactly the brightest, and Tammy...is still off. I'm fairly confident she's not acting now. I'm not sure how I feel about leaving them alone. But then, what could they do? It's a kitchen, with noodles.

    "Alright, let's talk." I look at the other two intently for a moment. "Stay here, don't touch anything." Then I exit the room briskly, heading for the armory proper, and expecting Di to follow.
  • For a minute there, I was looking a little on edge, but now my face livens. I nod.

    I catch Tammy's eye with a smile, nod at the noodles. I mouth "eat", and trail after June at a casual pace, a ribbon of pale smoke twisting behind me.
  • I hold the door to the armory open for Di, and as soon as she steps inside, I close the door.

    "What did you want to talk about?"
  • I look around the armory. Nice, I guess, if you're into that kind of thing. I find something to sit on. Something that doesn't look like it contains something dangerous.

    "I ... huh. I have no idea. I'm not sure what to make of all this, really. Have you just ... been here? How long? It doesn't sound like you've gotten out much ..."

    I sound honestly interested. Concerned for your well-being, even.
  • I look at Di carefully for a moment. I see the age in her, now, but she still looks so young, too. I don't understand a world where someone so young can be so old.

    "I don't know that I should tell you anything. You're definitively a civilian. If there is any remnant of the military left, I would be violating my duties if I told you anything. I'm violating my duties simply by having you here." I try to remain aloof, looking at her blandly. And then I let myself deflate, and sit on a crate containing munitions.

    "I was in stasis. I don't know how long. Long enough that the world I heard Mox talk about is not the one I remember." For what little I do remember. "And I think there may be a part of me that knows what caused this. So I may be able to fix it. Which is why it's all the more important that I get out of here, and get to seeing this world, understanding it."
  • Cross-legged, now, perching on the edge of a mostly empty steel table - there's a cleaning kit on the other end. My elbows are on my thighs, my chin in my hands.

    "Hm. You can't understand a world. You can understand ... oh, how a gun works, or how someone thinks. How to compound a chemical ... parthenogenesis ... military strategy ... what someone needs in bed. But a world's too big. It's not like there's one big secret you can learn, and then - bang - you've got it figured out. It's a million billion secrets, more than anyone can imagine. Especially this world."

    "But, whatever. I guess, straight up, I'll opt to believe you about this stasis thing. Odd, but it make a certain amount of sense, considering what I'm seeing around here. And you do seem to be suffering from some odd signs of general tissue atrophy that I couldn't quite place. Are you feeling ok? Are any side-effects bothering you?"

    ...

    "We should catch up to Spector, when we get a chance. He's, uh, kind of a scientist. And not just an agronomist, like he said. I think things might be a little stranger than you think, and he's the one who best knows all that. He's a little strange himself, but ... well, he's ok, really. He's kind of like me and Mox's dad, or something."

    The tone is something like a child apologizing to a guest after her dad flirts with the waitress, or something similarly embarrassing ... not generally the tone you'd expect when severed heads would not be irrelevant to the discussion.

    "And ... well. I don't know how long you've been under, of course. I don't even know what year it is, by how they used to be reckoned. But I figure this wreck here is maybe fifty years old. Forty, at the most recent. And I don't think there's been a proper military around for ... thirty years, maybe? That's before my time. You might ask Uncle, or this guy Gritch, if we end up heading that way."
  • Forty years. I had prepared myself for hearing that it had been a hundred or more, even as I knew it was ridiculous to suppose the stasis systems would've supported us for so long without degradation. So forty years, should be much better.

    Should be much better.

    I stand up and face the wall, praying that I moved quick enough so Di didn't see the tears start falling.

    (I'm taking a little license here with stuff that might theoretically fall under the jurisdiction of the "Past" section for the Quarantine, but I hope that's okay.)

    I had family. Some had died, or disappeared, but some were left. My mother. My brother. His wife. My niece.

    They were letting us bring families on board the carrier. For safety. I managed to get word to them, to try to get them to come. They never got here. I kept holding out hope they were just moving, slipping across the breaking world, and they were on their way.

    But. Forty years. Forty years of what must have been unadulterated horror.

    The world, the one that I remember even as I STILL CAN'T REMEMBER THE NAME OF THE FUCKING CARRIER I'M STANDING ON, is dead. The corpse is decaying around me.

    I slam my fist into the wall. Again. Again.

    (AHA! So, I get to coincide mine and June's interests! Spend Hold 2: How could I get Di to provide some form of, um, comfort?)
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