Monday, August 15, 2011

THIS SHIP IS BIGGER THAN I THOUGHT



Aug 15th 2011, 14:15 by E O Hatterpol | 1228 AU FROM SUN


I TOOK Nixie's hand in mine.  She obliged.  Ravi the Bookman smiled at the both of us.


If only I had known such good times wouldn't last much longer.

I began with the Spleen Machine for shock value; something about seeing yourself as a hologram for the first time makes a lasting impression, especially if you didn't know your butt was that big.


"Come stand in this booth," I said to Nixie.  It was cylindrical and up to the hilt in cameras.


"What's this?" she asked.


"It's going to take a kafrillion pictures of you and turn it into something special," I replied.  "Just hop in for me."


Once Nixie was safely inside being snapped, I winked at Ravi; he nodded gently.  I didn't even have to say!!  That's why Ravi is the best. wingbookman. ever.


"OK, come out and look at this," I told Nixie.


She gasped, putting her hands to her mouth; strutting bossily about the room was a hologram of herself!  She got over her shock quickly, however, and was soon tapping her feet, arms crossed.


"You're not going to do anything perverted with this once I'm gone, are you?"


"Absolutelynotit'soppositedaywhat?" I slurred quickly.  "So definitely not, no."


"Good," she said, nodding her approval.  "This is so cool!  How come I'm not super-realistic, though?  I can see through myself!"


"This ain't the USS Enterprise, sweetheart," I explained.  "Nor is it the 24th century."


"I guess that makes sense.  So what else is there?!" she asked, eager to explore further.


"Let's show you!" Ravi said, stepping in like a boss at the perfect moment to lead her out of the Spleen Machine.  That gave me the opportunity to quickly save Nixie's image to the Machine's hard drive under my own special, passworded folder (called SPEC-OPS).  


Poppa would come back for that one later.  (Salt your sea cuke!!)


We three walked up to the top of the M C Escher-style spiral staircase and stood on its very last step, staring out onto the brink of nothingness.  Pitch-black oblivion bristled up against that last step like sea spray against sheer cliffs.


"This doesn't go anywhere?" Nixie asked.  The nonexistence whipped her hair around robustly, as if she were riding shotgun in a convertible down the autobahn.


"Does it look like it?" I asked.


"Nobody really knows what this is," Ravi elaborated.  "Some fear they'll turn the colour grey if they touch it, like Atreyu nearly catching his death up against the Nothing; others think it must be a portal, or another dimension, or any other number of wild theories we cannot prove."


"Has anyone ever gone in?" she asked, fear creeping into her normally self-assured tone.


"Of course," Ravi answered.  "Some wanted to commit suicide; others, like I said, were convinced it was a portal; still others took dares after a long night at the Whale's Liver.  No one has ever come back."


"That's awful!" Nixie cried.  "Why doesn't the Carptain block this place off?  People could hurt themselves!  The Help & Welcome Department wouldn't allow this."


"Outer space is dangerous, Nixie," I said, butting in.  "The best thing a Flybrarian can do is make a choice; the worst thing he can do is prevent others from doing the same.  If you make the choice, say, to test your portal theory with your own life, I will never stop you, nor will anyone else aboard the ship."


"I don't like this anymore," she confessed, pulling a strand of hair out of her mouth that had been whipped there by nullity's breeze.  "We could fall in."


We ended up way down at the back of the ship, in the blue whale's tail, having drinks at the Whale's Fluke and chatting just above the soft sounds of beatnik jazz poetry.  Nixie had to buy both Ravi's and my drinks, Ravi's because he thought I still had all his salty space booty on Starbase Octopus, and mine because the entire Quasi-Hivemind next door had just told me in chorus that their mental records showed I was the brokest joke in the tri-quadrant area.


Gotta love those student motherfloundering loans, y'all.


"So where do you want to go next, Nixie?" I asked, swigging on Whale Ale.  "The Whale's Ears for some trippy music sensorium weirdness?  The Whale's Tummy for a bite?  It's Meatloaf Monday, you know -- if they're not closed for construction right now, I guess."


"This has been a great tour," she replied, "and I thank you both very much.  But I think we should try to focus now and see if we can't get to the bottom of this.  Every hour aboard the Flybrary could mean another girl gone."


Ravi put down his appletini.


"Focus on what?  Is something happening on Starbase Octopus?"


---

WHAT should I do, Flybrarians?

A: Bring Ravi into the loop, duh!!  He's a smart guy who has eaten books aplenty; maybe he'll have some insights into both the disappearances and the zonbi murder mystery that started it all?

B: Dismiss Ravi's curiosity.  I've done enough damage already, what with his salty space booty and those rare books; I don't need to burden him with Starbase Octopus drama, especially considering the Carptain won't even let him come with us.  Why don't I imply that Nixie and I are off to my cramped bunk to do some boot-knocking, then double-back to the bookstacks to dig around for information?


Choose Our Own Adventure in the comments section below, on FacebookGoogle+ or @EOHatterpol.  Feel free to write how you think it should happen, too!  


Storyline ideas and other brainstorms can be mailed to EOHatterpol[at]gmail[dot]com; constructive and destructive criticism is also welcome.

3 comments:

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  2. SPEC-OPS? Sounds like an episode of TNG: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Booby_Trap_(Star_Trek:_The_Next_Generation)

    I say bring Ravi into the loop - he will probably be your best resource for solving this mystery!

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  3. LOL! I might not be as gentlemanly as Geordi is to Dr Brahms, though. I'm just sayin'.

    Thanks for your fantastic choice, Kristen!

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