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

[unasking]

If you so agree to my proposal, you will never endure anything that I wouldn't test on myself first. [A stern promise. Followed by:] I will tell you everything that I learn about you immediately.

[He's not comfortable taking experiments in the first place, actually - not on the innocent. The corrupt are welcome to his operating table at any time, however he promised his master long ago that he would cease experiments. However if it's for the sake of people who want to learn more about themselves... about the possibilities that exist right underneath their skin?

His master will understand.]

In the past I've modified myself to attain powers beyond human limitation. I've recently taken other in and assisted to enhance their abilities, after they asked me to do so in order to protect what was important to them.

My resources are... lesser here, however I have no interest in giving up.

[brooches]

[ She's never had a choice.

Never.

Not once.

To her knowledge, she was born and put into captivity like a lessor being. It pains her to think her very own parents were the ones to do this. Lady Comstock... the Prophet himself... had God put her there? She tries not to weigh that thought, but he presents himself eloquently.

She's desperate for so many answers and all it yields are more questions. However, for now... she considers. ]

What would you ask of me? [ She chews her bottom lip. ] I don't want enhancement, I want answers. I need to know why I was brought here - why I was kept... there. [ Columbia, she means. ]

I need you to be certain you have the ability to do this. Please don't sugar your words and give me false hope.. If I can - if I can get even a fraction of my powers back, I may be able to get us out of here.

[unasking]

I'd ask what you want to know, and help you try to find it.

[That's the simplest answer. When he looks to her again, it's not as a scientist probing for answers but as another person. There's something innately disgusting about trampling another person's rights and freedoms and Frankenstein has no interest in taking part in any of it.]

I have no intentions of giving you false hope, Elizabeth, but you must understand the situation we're in. I can analyze and do everything I can for you, but I don't know what 'everything' entails while we're here.

That said, I can assure you that I'd work tirelessly but I too believe that you could assist in saving - well, everyone.

[brooches]

[ This is a lot to take in. No one her entire life - out of those years of loneliness... no one except for Booker offered to help. Even then, his motives had an ulterior meaning. She keeps her defenses up, fists balling tightly against her lap. ]

I... I don't think I can make that choice right now. Thank you for your patience, but maybe we can talk at a later point?

[ More private, without the looks she's gotten from others once their profiles were revealed.

Elizabeth feels the burden - the weight. A songbird without a voice is just the same as any other, is it not? She keeps her eyes at her lap, fearful of finding out the truth and fearful of not finding her escape. Their escape. ]

[unasking]

[At this point, he reaches out to her and places a hand on her shoulder, his head tilting to catch her gaze and hold it.]

We can talk whenever you wish. Call for me and I will be there.

[The idea of pushing this any further on her is unthinkable to him - he's interested in seeing what she can do, but he has absolutely zero intentions of forcing anyone to do something against their will or to try to trick them into it. In the matter of experimentation, especially.

That should only be done by choice.]