
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_
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[Jessie just wants to steal and get some cash monies but the stars are nice ok.]
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...You've been to space before?
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And what's a selfie?
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[Never heard of ANY of this stuff.]
...of course, we call it something different back where I'm from! Different strokes, different folks, I understand now.
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I was going to say! I'd think you'd be a natural, after all. You've just got the look.
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[She turns and holds her hands behind her head. Can he see how she sparkles?!]
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I'm sure you're an Instagram star! Or whatever the equivalent is back where you're from. What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?
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[And, well, she's not famous, but.]
My beauty is renowned across the land!
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Wow, I can believe it. Sounds like you keep busy, huh. So this must be in part a good break for you, like a vacation, almost.