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

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki's going to watch him closely now, see if he can spot any signs. Casually, of course- and in between helplessly looking around the garden, which is lovely in its' own right.]

What's the reasoning behind that one? That it's all just math?

[velocette]

I think it's more that language is unpredictable, illogical. It changes every few years. You can identify generations by their slang but it varies place to place for no reason at all.

[The signs will be there: a few pauses where he just 'forgets' Ricki altogether, which always coincide with an abrupt change of topic when he can hear again. He doesn't do much asking after sentences he's missed.]

What was going on in your world when you left?

[rickitikitarr]

Ah, what wasn't? Communism spreading across Europe and fighting it out in Asia. Americans getting rather twitchy about the whole thing too.

[He abandons his slurry mumble as much as he can, not all at once, but just says the words crisp and clear as he keeps going.]

[velocette]

That's where it was for me, too. Although, the twitchiness really started for us after the Nazis were gone and the Soviets were filling up the places they'd left. [Which he has no particular feeling on; every war comes on the heels of some other violence.]

You're more observant than most import-exporters.

[rickitikitarr]

That's what makes me good at my job. Imports-exports, it's all in the people you know.

[He'll leave it at that if Piper will.]

Where're you from?

[velocette]

[He doesn't believe him and doesn't bother to pretend he does, but he also knows to wait to pry.]

Tulsa. That's Oklahoma--United States. [But if Ricki knows what Oklahoma is he probably is more interested in the when:] When I left home to come here it was 1974.

[rickitikitarr]

Hah! Same year. Lovely.

[Nice to have something in common.]

You know, I've been all over the world, but never to America?

[velocette]

[He laughs, offers Ricki a vivid orange flower he'd accidentally pulled up but doesn't really want to carry]

Neither have I. Whatever America is, it's not.

Where have you been?

[rickitikitarr]

Grew up in and around Penang, Singapore, Borneo. London for a bit, Brixton after that, then Hong Kong-

[He could actually keep going, add Kenya, Brazil, Istanbul, but better keep to a general theme, he figures.]

[velocette]

[He nods softly, reviewing the places in his mind]

They're all fairly English-speaking, depending, aren't they? Did you get a chance to learn the local languages?

[rickitikitarr]

I can find a bar in ten or so different local dialects, yeah.

[And considerably more than that in a few, but this fits better.]

[velocette]

[He brightens a little and shows him in sign language (American sign language, that is) how to ask for the pub.

If Ricki gets it right, it'll be the next stop on the tour.]

[rickitikitarr]

Do what with the trainstation?

[But he can guess. The drinking sign is clear enough, he shows him pub in his time- one hand flat, the other a tipping tankard closer to his chest.]

[velocette]

[He repeats it, deciding to adopt Ricki's sign for pub rather than sticking to the one he'd learned from Harvey. Language is always evolving, after all.

He leads him out of the greenhouse and then up a level, to the pub.]

What did you do for fun?

[rickitikitarr]

I traveled a lot. Developed a bit of a thing for an old paperback on an ocean front, or a screen porch.

[Bars, of course, were a given, as was the odd girl.]

[velocette]

[Books are generally more interesting than girls, in his opinion.]

You'll like the library. What about art? Games?

[He orders two beers, though he'll mostly just sip at his own]

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki isn't in a hurry either. People keep trying to buy him drinks here, a man could get trashed if he wasn't careful.]

Nah, never been any good with art. I do play a hand of cards now and again, though.

[velocette]

With stakes, or just for fun?

[The Motorcycle Boy has a hell of a poker face, and can't find hardly anyone to gamble with.]

[rickitikitarr]

[He laughs and points out, firmly;]

I have three cigarettes to my name, and one little television box, which I imagine I should hang onto.

[velocette]

[He nods, but there's a flicker of disappointment]

You have to get very creative around here, it's true.

[rickitikitarr]

Give me time.

[A promise.]

I am, by the sounds of things, going to be here a while.

[velocette]

Oh, don't feel pressured by me. They say there's a difference in gambling between having fun and being smart.

[He sips his beer, leans back]

What would you do with a wish, Ricki?

[rickitikitarr]

You know the answer to that.

[Nodding out the window.]

Certainly Laika. What about you?

[velocette]

[he grimaces, waves a hand]

I don't want anything; it's why I asked. I ask everyone, sometimes I get ideas. My last wish was for a domestic abuse resource center in a city that, as far as I can tell, is mostly made up of villains who dress up in spandex and body armour.

Laika can't be the only thing that concerns you.

[rickitikitarr]

It's a big, bad world out there. The moment you start thinking about what you want to fix, you'd have to start asking yourself why you chose this bit and not that.

[But there's something far away to him now, thinking of his little daughter, and of Irina, brains spattered all over a wall in Moscow.]

I don't know enough about the parameters of the wishes, to be honest. I'm hardly a candidate, they didn't go through them in detail for me.