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

[todorable]

Should I be?

I mean, I'm just trying to be friendly, since we're going to be stuck here for who knows how long. I was hoping I could find out whatever you're doing to your hair, because it frankly looks amazing.

[unasking]

[With a smile:]

The horseshoe of a centaur, melted down into a mixture along with a jackalope's horns and the tears of a pixie.

[todorable]

...I get the feeling you can't just pick that up at Sephora.

[unasking]

Beauty is pain, they say.

[you gotta fight a centaur for it, apparently]

[todorable]

[what if you just make a deal with the centaur for a steady supply of horseshoes and then share the profits on the international distribution deal?]

Aw... Guess I won't be needing any band-aids after this one.