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paradoxstuck2011-10-21 11:08 pm
harriedcaitiff.livejournal.com) wrote in paradoxstuck2011-10-21 11:08 pm
Years in the future, but not many...
HC: Examine surroundings.
You’d love to, but you’re finding it rather hard to see. There’s dust on the ground, dust in the air, dust coating your carapace and pulling into your lungs every time you breathe. You clutch FA a little tighter, suddenly nervous. This is not where you remember going to bed last night.
You flick on your ANTIQUATED COMMUNICATIONS DEVICE, hoping the light will help you see your surrounding a little better. Instead, what you see on the screen stops you in your tracks. There are names there, a long list of unfamiliar handles scrolling down the device.
Oh. Oh wow.
Could you have found an exile’s settlement?
Fingers shaking, you quickly pull up your own CUMBERSOME TYPING INTERFACE.
CURRENT harriedCaitiff [CHC] RIGHT NOW opened public transtimeline bulletin board IS ANYONE THERE?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CURRENT harriedCaitiff [CHC] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board IS ANYONE THERE?
CHC: Hello?
CHC: Is there anyone there?
CHC: I don’t mean to pry, of course, but it seems my communications device is in contact with the devices of others.
CHC: And unless it has chosen a spectacularly creative way to malfunction on me, I have reason to believe you may in fact exist.
CHC: Unless of course I have gone insane, and these names are merely a figment of my imagination.
CHC: Which I would find rather unfortunate! I sincerely hope you are real.
CHC: If you aren’t, though, please don’t feel obligated to hold a conversation with me.
CHC: That would be rather bizarre.
CHC: But if you do exist, I would greatly enjoy holding a conversation with you!
CHC: I can’t imagine I’m any good at it after all this time, but nonetheless.
CHC: Er.
CHC: I believe I’ll stop talking now.
CHC closed memo.
You sit back, clutch FA to your chest, and wait.
You’d love to, but you’re finding it rather hard to see. There’s dust on the ground, dust in the air, dust coating your carapace and pulling into your lungs every time you breathe. You clutch FA a little tighter, suddenly nervous. This is not where you remember going to bed last night.
You flick on your ANTIQUATED COMMUNICATIONS DEVICE, hoping the light will help you see your surrounding a little better. Instead, what you see on the screen stops you in your tracks. There are names there, a long list of unfamiliar handles scrolling down the device.
Oh. Oh wow.
Could you have found an exile’s settlement?
Fingers shaking, you quickly pull up your own CUMBERSOME TYPING INTERFACE.
CURRENT harriedCaitiff [CHC] RIGHT NOW opened public transtimeline bulletin board IS ANYONE THERE?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CURRENT harriedCaitiff [CHC] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board IS ANYONE THERE?
CHC: Hello?
CHC: Is there anyone there?
CHC: I don’t mean to pry, of course, but it seems my communications device is in contact with the devices of others.
CHC: And unless it has chosen a spectacularly creative way to malfunction on me, I have reason to believe you may in fact exist.
CHC: Unless of course I have gone insane, and these names are merely a figment of my imagination.
CHC: Which I would find rather unfortunate! I sincerely hope you are real.
CHC: If you aren’t, though, please don’t feel obligated to hold a conversation with me.
CHC: That would be rather bizarre.
CHC: But if you do exist, I would greatly enjoy holding a conversation with you!
CHC: I can’t imagine I’m any good at it after all this time, but nonetheless.
CHC: Er.
CHC: I believe I’ll stop talking now.
CHC closed memo.
You sit back, clutch FA to your chest, and wait.