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

[qundercover]

Good to hear they didn't forget your staff. It's probably feeling neglected.

[Bull is 45 and is FIT AND TRIM FOR HIS HEIGHT.]

[tevinteriscoming]

[Ignoring! All he has to do is remember 650 lbs.]

They didn't forget my fabulous moustache, either. It's nice to be appreciated.

[qundercover]

[What good will that do you, Dorian. You'll be thinking about it all the time. Bull could pick you up and throw you.]

Yeah, you gonna be able to keep that thing up if you've only got your staff? Not seeing anyone around to help iron silks or curl moustaches.

[tevinteriscoming]

[...First of all, it's extremely annoying that Bull would imply his moustache isn't naturally flawlessly groomed and perky.

Second of all, that is a problem, one he hadn't considered. It's bad enough that he doesn't have any kohl. How will he make his eyes pop like this?]

You don't iron silk. Anyway, I've made do in far more desolate circumstances, I'm certainly not concerned with it now.

I think the real question is how you're going to get by if they don't have chairs specially made.

[qundercover]

[Dorian will you murder for some eyeliner. Will that be the incentive that puts you over the line.]

I'll manage. You'd think they'd have planned for this. Gotten me a big one at the head of the table.

[tevinteriscoming]

[Maybe. Maybe he will.]

Perhaps the chairs are reinforced. Yet another chair-related clue.

[qundercover]

Yeah, we're gonna solve this entire thing based on chairs alone.

[Call him fat again, Dorian. See if he helps you when you have a moustache emergency.]