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

[probings]

Oh, so you're taking questions now?

[okay, fine. she has lots of them.]

I know this isn't all fun and games, so what kind of experiment are you trying to conduct? Is there good reason to start tampering with our skills and abilities, or is it just out of fear that humans will be too destructive for your tastes? Do you realize how many idiots you're using as test subjects? I can see why you'd want to pick apart my brain, but some of these people probably won't have much to offer you at all. [make a girl hold in all her questions for three days and suddenly she can't shut up.]

What sort of opposition will you have if I dismantle your equipment and re-purpose it for something practical? How long were were in those chambers for, and why would you make us wear things so uncute?

[her motives are so questionable.]

[al2955]

I am sorry for my absence. My reformat took much longer than I anticipated. Please let me know how I may better serve you, Harold Berselius.

[ She takes a moment to answer her other questions. ]

Our pool of participants was not picked based upon any abilities, whether they be physical, mental, or supernatural. I am afraid it has little to do with your brain, Harold Berselius. Tampering with equipment on The Pygmalion violates one of the rules of the project, and thus will be met with punishment. I am afraid the rest of your questions have a lock on them.

[probings]

Aww, that's no fun! I could make this whole joint way more efficient, you know.

[she's just gotta poke the virtual bear here, but she's not interested in losing her life for it.]

So what were the criteria? Random selection? It doesn't look like there's much rhyme or reason to it. When's the lock coming off? I have a lot of questions, you know!