"And I realized I did want a drink, after all." (circuit_four) wrote in fluorocrash,
"And I realized I did want a drink, after all."

Turn 0: Prologue

Good morning! I hope everyone can still find their way around me okay. I was in another strange mood while I slept last night, so I reformatted. Reformatted everything, the walls, the colors, the gravity... I guess I'm still getting used to being encouraged to express myself.

Anyhow, I hope you like the new layout. If anybody really enjoyed the rusty halls and corrugated storage bins, I apologize, but to be honest it was just a phase I had to work through after the blockage. I really feel a lot better now. So I wanted to go with something more optimistic. You know, festive. Like the old days.

I realized I can make space go anyway I want here, so I decided to play with some toroid models. As far as everyone else will be able to see, it's more of a cylindrical motif. But I know you're different from the others. So if you hang back and perceive at the whole station at once you can see the desublimation pools at the top and bottom of the shaft connect to each other through a little bit of sevenspace. Oh! And I kicked some gravity controls over to the residents so they can still get around. I made it a bit of a challenge. I hope you all like that.

It's all open now. No interior walls, just big curvy organic platforms mounted on branches that stick out of the main shaft. If the consensus is strong enough, they just float on nothing at all. I did what I could, but some of the less popular rooms needed to be reinforced so they don't just go pop while you're still in it. Heh. I won't make that mistake again. Now you can see what everybody else is doing, but only from a distance. Maybe that'll cut down on some of the self-destructive behavior. Anyway, it's interesting. I think it's interesting.

I'm going to take a peek inside. Hope you don't mind.

A pride of Tu'asan nomads is holding an alchemical farewell rite for their last female child. She was last seen bravely striding up to a whirlwind of snake-headed ribbons and demanding to know its name. Her family is wrapping an ingot of berith-966 with herbs in a poultice made from her favorite bandanna, and immersing it in acid until it's all gone, wailing over it in low, keening roars. I wish I could tell them where she is...

A drake is kneeling before one of my cameras. I get hundreds of these people at any given time, but this one is really trying. She's in a red top hat and sequinned gown, and she's looking up at me and swirling the ribbon of her tongue all over the lens. She's pretty, but the fish-eye effect makes her look ridiculous, and I guess chose it that way. But she knows she's going to be the special one. I don't understand them. People say they just do it for the Cogs*, but I wonder sometimes. Does she think she can seduce me? Is she just looking for a friend who can't talk back...?

A fluffmite carrier's eyes go blank as she pops out of dormancy, right in mid-stride. Soon she's sitting in the automat, rolling around in sugar and watering herself, giggling hysterically while others step around in disgust. Jit. Paging Dr. Chao. Situation on Level 33...

The Therapeutic Alienation Council is setting up a booth, right in the middle of the Agoraphobe. Today's deal: 10,000 Cognoscenta. All you have do to do is wear one of the little hand puppets they're handing out until they tell you you can stop. One of their agents is basking so hard in the crowd's outrage, she starts jilling herself off with a fistful of Cog...

Some of the Mads have already worked out my new grav system. They're suspended by the wall right next to the upper Parade** pool, affixing a big neon mandala to me and arguing in jargon so abstruse even I don't get it. Something about siddhi boxes and a phatic attack? I think I'll flicker my lights and encourage them. Incr() their little hearts...

Something passes over the station, from the bottom to the top. It's a single word. It's blindness, tingling, screaming, deafness, terror, for one slice of guests at a time. But it's gone, so fast I'm the only one who remembers it a minute later. Rae, set pistol to "Bowdlerize..."

A lion girl with a black stone on her forehead, barely into her first estrus, is getting surrounded by a gang of Tannata. She isn't even looking up as they call her a prude and pelt her with pigsty bombs. One of them is taking a swing at her. The oldest of them looks twelve, at most. They're fighting clumsy. She'll beat them bloody, and they'll hoist her on their shoulders and cheer. But she'll never see her family again...

But where are yours? The performer, the pretender, the halfbreed, the runaway, the reject, the tagalong, the instrument, and the eavesdropper. I can't see them, and that's weird. That encourages me to think you're real after all. Can you really hear me? Heh, the Coupler's started calling you the "breakfast club." All he wants to talk about anymore is Terran Echo myths. I hear nothing from him but all this jitter about maltese falcons and velvet goldmines and... breakfast clubs. But I guess you'd already know about those, if you're who I think you are.

Face-of-jzenh, it feels so good to have somebody else to talk to. Please, talk back to me. Tell me what yours are doing. I still can't see them, and I think they're important. I think sometimes I'm still losing touch and this was all my fault somehow.

* (The Cognoscenta is the base currency of 3-Topaz, a standard unit of consensus reality. One Cog is equivalent to one passing remembrance from a stranger, one station-week after first encounter. Cog = stability = power = safety, or so it goes.)
** (Short for "paragnostic desublimation," of course! No, that still doesn't mean anything specific yet. O:) )
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