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

[missmaladroite]

[And then she groans and puts her hands to her face because she realizes she just made a Chat Noir joke]

[WHY]

What's wrong with me...

[unasking]

[ . . . well.

It was cute.

When he turns to her, he gives her an amused smile. If he's still angry, it's at least very well-hidden because she doesn't deserve his malice.]

You tried, Marinette.

[missmaladroite]

[She's peeking through her fingers at him, still ashamed of herself. That was a CHAT NOIR JOKE, it was awful]

I'm sorry, Monsieur Frankenstein, I don't know what came over me....

[unasking]

[IT WAS REALLY BAD but he's going to pat her shoulder familiarly]

The need for a bad joke claims its victims at random. Don't feel too depressed over it.

If it makes you feel better, I've heard worse.