WEEK 1 - Online

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (1)

monday (41) survivors It had been three days since you had awoken. The ship was still quiet, except for the low hums of enigmatic machines with no apparent purpose. You awake, like usual, to dim lighting and poor rations. Perhaps being on the ship had grown monotonous — it was, perhaps, amazing how little anything seemed to happen in space, a final frontier of malaise. That monotony is crushed by a voice echoing through the narrow hallways. Reformatting . . . Reformatting . . . Reformatting complete. The Pygmalion is online. Welcome, travelers. Please assemble in the meeting room. Your presence is mandatory. Silence falls once again. A minute or so passes, and the lights around the ship finally brighten, the walls looking more alive and more unfamiliar — as if you must relearn the ship's interior once again. The robots on deck begin to make rounds, nudging and pushing at the ship's passengers to make their way to the meeting room. You hear the doors behind you lock. It seems there is only one path to take. ENTER COMMAND_

Comments

[toprotecttheworld]

Who knows?

[And here is her best lie. She sounds bored, like it doesn't matter to her at all.]

A companion of mine mentioned something like that once or twice, but I've never heard of one.

[Arbok is her advantage! They did say "participants," after all.]

[antietam]

Oh. [ She isn't the first one he's talked to who doesn't know about her item, so it could be the truth. ]

That's weird. I wonder how they chose those possessions.

[toprotecttheworld]

Who knows how they chose any of this? You, me, these tacky jumpsuits. They're probably just torturing us at random.

[antietam]

Just our luck, right? Us forty out of the seven billion they could have chosen from.