
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_
no subject
What are you? What year is this? Under what circumstances do you believe you have the right to capture me?
[Well. All of them, really, but the guise of the selfish mad scientist is one that Frankenstein has no issue slipping into.]
no subject
no subject
How long ago was your reformat? And for what purpose?
[Also ok just because she didn't do the lifting doesn't mean that she's innocent.]
Did you send out the orders for capture?
no subject
I am merely here to facilitate the project, Frankenstein.
no subject
[Fine. He'll look at that and probably be back with more questions.]
You mentioned refreshments - are we allowed to help ourselves to the machinery as well?