1. video

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki Tarr, latest inmate arrival, is still getting his feet under him. He's been on board for a little while now, but let's face it, he's a field agent from the 1970s, getting used to graphical user interfaces of his messenger has put up a bit of a roadblock in terms of his making contact.

By the time he's confident enough with the flimsy, cheeping little device to make a video post, his stomach is growling, so the very first message is a simple video shot.

It's poorly framed, he has no real idea of how to centre himself in the lens, and the light in his room is dark and low and terrible for any sort of filming. But from the dark, what's visible of his half-in-the-frame expression is still and steady;]


The first living creature to orbit the earth was a little Russian mongrel named Laika. She was a pretty thing, with a clever cast to her eyes and pricked up, pointed ears. On the fourtieth anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution they flung the little thing into the sky.

In fact, the Russians had been launching dogs into suborbital flights for a few years before, but none attained the notoriety or captured the imaginations of the world like little Laika. I was rather young when she was sent to space, but recall thinking the entire proceedings terribly inhumane.

The Soviets say that she was euthanized before her oxygen ran out. The British and Americans question whether that is true. The Russians question whether that questioning is deliberately spread propaganda meant to make them seem monstrous. In the time since, I think both sides have lost track of the original truth of the matter. But the question of her ultimate cause of death aside, I wondered whether she might be hungry, thirsty or afraid, uncomprehending of how it was possible to see stars all around her... I actually can't recall reading whether Sputnik 2 was like this ship, with windows or not. Laika may not have seen stars spinning in the sky, but I'm sure the sounds and sudden lack of gravity must have been rather frightening for such a little dog.

[His voice is low and steady, the pictures his paints are matter-of-fact and vivid. He accent is an odd, old one, London tempered by a childhood racing through Penang streets and other colonial holds. He takes his time with the story before concluding;]

Which is all to say, given the apparent flexibility of space and time on this vessel, if we see her while we're out here, I must simply insist that we make a stop.

Comments

[velocette]

Seems to. Even up on the deck all I ever smell is people and air. [And tobacco smoke probably since he's got a cigarette balanced between his fingers.]

Most people here don't know a thing about Soviets and the space race, though. Most of them don't really seem to notice all the stars.

[rickitikitarr]

Really? I confess, I only know a little, but my first order of business is going to be to educate myself in a hurry.

[And now he's eyeing that cigarette, fingers twitching for one of his own.]

Though I suppose that first I should learn the rules of the ship.

[velocette]

There are restricted areas, but the rules change and change back. You shouldn't kill anyone, but some people do. You shouldn't try to live at the bar, but some people do.

It's easier to explain with a tour.

[rickitikitarr]

That isn't an offer, is it?

[He wants to leave this little room as badly as he wants a hole in the head, but damn it- better to know than to not know.]

[velocette]

[He doesn't hear Ricki's question, but he's pretty sure he recognizes hesitance, so he does what he usually does and just quietly stares as he waits for his hearing to come back, or for a definite 'yes' or 'no'.]

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki pauses in confusion as well, not clear if that is a yes or no, or where he's lost track of this conversation.]

If you don't mind?

[velocette]

[He still can't hear him, but he does know how to test if they're on the same page:]

What cabin are you in?

[rickitikitarr]

Level eight, cabin three, from the looks of things.

[velocette]

[He's getting better at lip reading but he's not that good. So it'll be more than a half hour before he tracks Ricki down. On the plus side the silence in his ears has gone back to a dull ringing, and he has cigarettes!

He even has the pack out when he raps on the door]

[rickitikitarr]

[He opens up and smiles.]

Hello- I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name.

[velocette]

They call me Piper around here.

[He likes the name but has no attachment to it. He offers a lighter, a cigarette.]

Who are you?

[rickitikitarr]

[God bless him, he reaches fast for the cigarette. Lights up, inhales;]

Ricki Tarr.

[velocette]

[Inmate or warden status doesn't matter to him enough to ask why Ricki's here, so that question gets skipped. But he looks him over curiously.]

Ricki Tarr, the painter? The mechanic?

[rickitikitarr]

Import and export business.

[He says, with a grin- it's a good one, explains a lot of the travel, dull as fuck on the details front, took.]

What about you- who did you used to be?

[velocette]

[It's also a phrase he's heard before, and he smiles slightly, has to make sure:]

Was it guns or drugs?

[There is a right and a wrong answer to the question. Guns are fine; drugs, well, that would sour things quickly.]

I ran a gang for a while, that seems to be the most notable thing about me. At least to people here.

[rickitikitarr]

Foreign textiles, actually.

[But consider his eyebrows firmly raised.]

Though now I feel a little boring, in comparison. I did know a thing or two about guns, once upon a time, but I haven't run them in decades.

[velocette]

Gang work is pretty boring, too. Actually- This is the only job I've found that isn't, but then, I haven't been doing it very long. It always surprises me all the things a human mind can get tired of.

[He inhales some smoke, and nods his head in invitation]

Tour?

[rickitikitarr]

Yeah, sure, thanks.

[He's seen a few different directions, but wants more information about a number of them- the library, the pool, the gym, how to get places the Wardens are supposed to get you.]

Where can I meet you?

[velocette]

[He shrugs, figuring Ricki probably needs time to settle in, has probably been bombarded with questions. But:]

We could leave in a few minutes, if you want. I've tried to set things up in advance before, but this thing [holding up his device] doesn't always let me know someone's trying to get hold of me.

[rickitikitarr]

On the fritz, is it? Where do we go to for repairs?

[Looking down at the fragile little thing in his hands with a new angle to his gaze.]

[OOC ETA: uh, guess who totally lost track of space/time in the fray and forgot they had already met up and are now in person?? that's why the last few comments make zero sense. Shall we carry right along as though they're walking together? /o\]

[velocette]

I'd probably go see Chromie...she works in the library. [And she probably won't be a lot of help with technology, but.] Personally, I probably wouldn't notice if it broke for a while. We didn't have these back home. I didn't even have a phone or tv yet.

[OOC: No worries! I figured Ricki was probably stalling due to some other meet up, but if that's not the case then I'm good with them walking!]

[rickitikitarr]

What, neither?

[A curious look. That predates even Ricki, and he'd been feeling like a caveman.]

You're in charge, then. Show me the sights.

[ooc: lmao clearly I am having difficulties today.]

[velocette]

[He shrugs, and veers them to the right.]

Couldn't afford it. Besides, the old man figured anyone who wanted to get in touch with one of us knew where to find him.

[He'll start the tour officially when they get to the deck; its where he spends most of his time, and it's readily available to visit.

Also it's a little mind-blowing, being out and exposed among the stars.]

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki... the deck is not his favourite thing as of quite yet, but he's careful not to show it, to watch him close and stay near enough to him, to keep his field of vision fixed on the boat surface, the small structures, or his tour guide.]

They say there's a garden up here.

[velocette]

There is. But I think they frown on smokers. [He clearly doesn't care about their feelings on his cigarettes, though, and he grins] I won't tell on you, if you don't mind being yelled at if we're caught with them.