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

[erythristic]

...I'm sorry, but what is a "spacecraft"?

[she's trying to listen, she is, but if this woman can explain where they are, that she wishes to know.]

[al2955]

A spacecraft is much like a boat. It is meant to canvass the cosmos.

[ She attempts to put that into poetic, Victorian terms, just for Grell. ]

[erythristic]

[that helps a lot, actually, her brain can parse that easily as opposed to a technical definition.]

So we truly are traveling among the stars...I see.

[just let her process her worldview being shattered, ok. that plus everything else she's been told adds up to a terrifying conclusion.]