TEST DRIVE #002

[reveriemod]

TEST DRIVE #002

( 0 0 1 ) » WAKE UP

Were you asleep or were you unconscious? It doesn't matter: when you come to, there's an odd taste in your mouth and there's a low-level mechanical hum in the air. Your head hurts and you feel nauseous. You aren't anywhere you know: everything around you is metal, from the floor you lie on all the way to the ceiling. You are dressed in a jumpsuit you definitely weren't wearing before.

"We tried to save the world. I think— I think we did the opposite."

The message repeats on a loop. If you look for its source, you find a comms device on the floor next to you. The logo on its wallpaper says REVERIE TERMINAL. Upon closer inspection, you find the same logo on your jumpsuit.

Welcome to your new home. What choice do you have but to explore your surroundings?

( 0 0 1 . 1 ) » WAKE UP WHERE?

When you wake up, you find that you're not alone. But more importantly, you find that you're in a closet. An empty closet, bar you and your new companion. It's small, cramped, and there is no door that you can see. The ceiling is low, there is barely any lights, only some coming from the tiny flashlight clipped to your suit's shoulder. You cannot be sure that there is any air coming in to the room.

Are these grooves in the wall supposed to mean something?

( 0 0 2 ) » OBSERVATION DECK

There were no windows in the corridor you woke up in and no windows in any of the crew quarters you might have checked for occupants — but there are plenty of windows on the uppermost level of the station, deck 1. In fact, there are windows from floor to ceiling all along the circumference of the station's circular deck, and it's possible to walk along it all. What it shows is a strange solar system you've never seen before and a planet that might resemble one you know, but certainly isn't the same.

You're in space. You don't know where you are. Neither does anyone else.

( 0 0 3 ) » BAR

On deck 3, you find the bar. Tucked away from the crew quarters, it's dimly lit, there are bar stools thrown down on the floor and what looks like some very old drink spills, crusty and dark against the bar top. But there is alcohol here, or at least, what you think is alcohol, in bottles with faded labels, most of them indecipherable. Take a drink, get drunk, start a fight, or start a party? You're stuck on this station, might as well make the most of it, right?

( 0 0 4 ) » SPACEQUAKES

One second, you are is walking. Magnetic boots are on, the ground feels solid enough, for a metal deck in a space station. Everything is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as it can be, given that you still don't know where you are or how you came to be here.

The next moment, it's like everything explodes around you. You're thrown against the wall as sparks erupts from electrical panels, as the whole station rumbles and shakes around you. You fall to the deck, earning yourself scratches from the grating. When you look up, it's like nothing has happened. No wires hanging from open panels, no flickering lights, no more shaking. Like an earthquake in space.

( 0 0 5 ) » NETWORK

The comms device you found next to you when waking up connects to a station-wide network, REVERIE NET. You have the option to post video, voice or text messages.

What will you share?

( 0 0 6 ) » WILDCARD

The station features a variety of locations, from sleeping quarters free for the claiming to a dirty swimming pool and a bar that still holds alcohol (though some of the bottles seem to have been opened a while ago).

Go wild, but don't wreck the place. It's your home for the foreseeable future, after all.

Comments

[witters]

[ for someone more feelings-minded, john makes an acute observation. science is human-centric to the point of becoming myopic. it's a quibble fitz shares, particularly given all the aliens and ai knocking about in his world. he nods along to his babble, unsure of where it's headed but willing to strap-in for the ride. there's cleverness scattered across the tangent, if nothing else. ]

[ slowly, ] So, you'd be annoying about it if I said we fell through a space-time portal — [ a beat. ] — or had our consciousness uploaded to a VR simulation, [ he rubs a hand across his jaw. ] or were cryogenically frozen before having said cryostasis chambers hijacked by the crew of this vessel.

[ just a few theories that make him sound more conspiratorial than scientific, he supposes. they're skewed due to small sample size: just himself, honestly. john is a new data point. ]

[romanticism]

[ that fitz thinks there's any cleverness to be found in all those words that john spills out would please and flatter him immensely. he's long since abandoned the concept of properly thinking out the things he says out loud, rather preferring to put his most eloquent thoughts to paper rather than anywhere else. otherwise, he'd spend too much of his life thinking and not just chattering, and that would be no good at all.

he does, however, take a moment to pause and consider the theory. ]

I would, yes. [ he cocks his head, smiling crookedly at fritz, showing a flash of teeth. ] Even more so, in fact, because after all, I did say "logical explanation" with "sound basis in fact". And nothing you just said sounds like it fits into that category.

[witters]

[ his eyes widen a fraction, surprised at the lack of laughter or steadfast dismissal. definitely entertained by his suggestions, this one, and rightfully unconvinced — but not mocking.

fitz shrugs, as if it doesn't matter whether his hypotheses pass any traditional metric. ]

How do you imagine we ended up in space? [ a genuine question despite the amused lilt of his voice. ] Alien abduction? [ as if that's madder than any of his suggestions. ]

[ given the improbability of their present location, he assumes their route here was equally unconventional. ]

well that sure was the wrong account

[romanticism]

[ there is a temptation to continue being a bit of a shit, but at the end of the day, this is a conversation worth having. when you're all a bunch of confused strangers in a baffling situation, theorising how it happened is a way to stay sane, and find strange bits of comfort that aren't really so comforting, but at least have the faintest whiff of an explanation. ]

Do you think it's chance? Or is there something intentional behind our turning up here? [ another slight tangent. ] If a space-time portal really was the start of this, did we fall through it, or were we pushed?

[ unconventional or not, john can't help tripping on this line of thought. ]

fuel for the conspiracy theories ig 👀

[witters]

[ his mouth curves wider than before. ]

Right, yes, exactly. [ that's the question to ask! and, oh, he's terribly pleased that they've moved beyond chatting to puzzling, sliding right into his wheelhouse. fitz wants to say that he thinks they're hurtling toward a fixed end, so chance isn't a factor, but that's a bit... much. ]

Could be either. [ shaking his head. ] Could be that we were pulled, not pushed. [ by someone who needed help or nabbed the wrong target. ] But I don't think I was near anything of the sort before I woke up here, so I'd wager it was intentional.

[ he doesn't know, of course, when he'd been asleep. frozen. whatever. ]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[romanticism]

[ a bit much wouldn't be too hard for john to swallow. not now, anyway. later, when he inevitably mulls over this conversation rather than sleeping, it might be a smidge tougher to process than he wants to admit. ]

Funny how the meaning changes so much depending on the verb you use. There are so many possible implications, and so few clues as to which implication you should be focusing on.

[ eyes on the space beyond the station again, the fathomless dark and its stars, the brilliant sun. ]

And if it's intentional, to what end? Personally, I can't imagine being of much use in this place. [ he doesn't feel the hum of magic that's familiar to him. he's cut off from a connection to earth and soil and the world he knows how to use to his advantage. surrounded by metal. ] There might not even a be a true purpose, not one that would make us feel any better. We might be a source of entertainment to eyes we can't see.

[witters]

[ sleepless and clueless in outer space. fantastic. ]

We might be. [ an even agreement. with the unrelenting void ahead, it's an uncomfortable thought. was their journey intentional or unintentional? aimless or sinister? does it matter? only because it might illuminate a path home. the fact that they came in means there must be a way out, even if the new route is longer or more arduous than the last. fitz reminds himself that an accident (a simple matter of timing) tore his partner through a portal once, and he used every ounce of cleverness at his disposal to find her.

take that, cosmos. ]

[ gently — ] You don't seem thick enough to be useless, for the record.

[ it's an honest assessment. fitz has little patience for slow thinkers. ]

[romanticism]

[ it matters. the why, the how. not only might it help them find that path, but it sets the tone for their stay, in the meantime. if there was intent behind all of this, means that there's always going to be more in store for them. that it's not just, "congrats, you're now on a space station, and that's it!" ]

You're too kind. Time will tell if you're right, or if I'm just full of vapid, fancy words.

[ he defaults to this attitude. self-deprecation is all well and good in small amounts, but naturally? john doesn't tend towards it that often. he knows how it sounds when you hear it too many times, and honestly, he doesn't have a reason to play it that way. it's proven useful, before, to feign a lack of knowledge and be the ditsy bloke with the excessive sounding vowels, when being underestimated is powerful — but that's not now.

it's just hard to shrug off. ]

My name is John, by the way.

[ he extends hand, though the angle isn't the most fortunate, what with their sitting next to each other. doesn't seem to deter him much. ]

[witters]

[ a flicker of uncertainty passes over his face as he considers withholding his name. he had an alias all sorted for space, with the requisite nebulous and fearsome backstory at the ready, but he already exposed himself as a first-time-participant and long-time-fan of the whole space thing. no point to being reticent now, when they're sat side-by-side, ostensibly in the same whirring boat.

god knows he'll need someone to chat with, so he doesn't go mad. john's spot of humour, however self-deprecating, may prove necessary.

despite the awkward angle, fitz returns the gesture. a proper, firm shake. ]

Fitz. [ he retracts his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. ] Well, Leopold but — Fitz. [ nailed it. ] I'm in engineering back on [ searching for the word, searching, searching, and ] the ground. Earth. In the States, if you can believe that.

[ why did he ever leave scotland, huh. ]

[romanticism]

[ while there's sense in keeping your cards close to your chest at a time like this, john can't really be bothered to. he was never the easiest man to pin down to begin with, and being on a space station with people he generally assumed to all be strangers just makes it that little bit harder. besides, at this point, his name is far too well worn, a comfortable element of himself that makes him feel more grounded (har har).

not that fitz has any proof that that's john's real name. john just might be an exceptionally natural liar.

his smile warms somewhat. ]

A pleasure, Fitz. [ wry sounding — maybe a little tired? like this conversation's taken something out of him. but the notes disappear quickly. ] I'm honestly so sad that I was plucked from London, or else I'd be leading the charge on a conspiracy theory with involvement from the United States. Alas, no luck.

[ said so brightly and cheerfully that it's unclear if he's joking or not. he hasn't decided what he is yet, however, so he's avoiding mentions of his own profession for the moment. ]

[witters]

[ fitz is, historically speaking, a poor judge of character. not quite perceptive, when it comes to others' emotions and motives (or even his own), but he notes the slight shift in john's tone. doesn't know what to make of it, honestly — so he jots the detail down. for later, maybe.

he ducks his head, smile tugging wider at john's theory, joking or otherwise. ]

Could still be a vendetta against us Brits. [ never rule out the Americans. ] They'll be coming for our football and chocolate next.

[ he'd die for a bag of maltesers right now tbh ]