I am currently at the beach, on a vacation. Upside is that I have more writing time. The downside is that I've hit the point where I actually need to do research... and some days are taken up actually *doing* things.
CD: I didn't sneak anything past the captain. Couldn't, even if I wanted to. The thing is that everything I told her is utterly true, and the reasons for it are logical, very practical, and easily proven by looking at me for more than a minute or two.
Of course, I didn't tell her everything, and what I didn't tell her is equally true... if a good bit less practical.
Rob: Point. Several of them. Well-made ones, too. ^^
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Entry 14 (Day 6)
Well, I learned a few things today.
First, this universe either doesn't run on narrative conventions, or has me locked so far in the 'offscreen nonentity' category that it doesn't bother applying them. How do I know? Well, for one thing, nobody was around when I did my Ryoga impression. For another, I wasn't standing next to my quarters... or the infirmary. It's not proof positive, but a strong indication.
I didn't bump into another crewman for twenty minutes after that. The crew density on this ship is amazingly low.
Second, dimensional cruisers are the best places to live. Once I found a member of the crew to ask for directions, it was a five minute walk to my temporary quarters (which, I'm glad to say, were not in any of the places I'd wandered through), after which I immediately fell in love.
What kind of military organization puts a genuine shower- an extra-large shower with unlimited hot water and six shower heads, no less- in every single set of quarters? What kind of military gives every crewman a queen-sized bed all to themselves? Apparently, this one.
Sure, it was a basic, three-room suite, but this little suite was better than any hotel room I'd ever been in on Earth.
Did I mention it had a SHOWER?
(As best I can tell, my skin is a good bit more naturally oily than most. I have to scrub harder than most people, I muck up touchscreens a good bit quicker than J. Random Techie, and I can utterly destroy certain types of dye. You have no idea how many blue shirts I've had to retire because they went orange around the collar. Destroyed one in two days. No joke.
Side effect is that I can't go without a shower for more than about a day before I start to feel grody. I was trapped on that planet for six, with only one dunk in a river midway through. Do the math.)
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
CD: I didn't sneak anything past the captain. Couldn't, even if I wanted to. The thing is that everything I told her is utterly true, and the reasons for it are logical, very practical, and easily proven by looking at me for more than a minute or two.
Of course, I didn't tell her everything, and what I didn't tell her is equally true... if a good bit less practical.
Rob: Point. Several of them. Well-made ones, too. ^^
**********
Entry 14 (Day 6)
Well, I learned a few things today.
First, this universe either doesn't run on narrative conventions, or has me locked so far in the 'offscreen nonentity' category that it doesn't bother applying them. How do I know? Well, for one thing, nobody was around when I did my Ryoga impression. For another, I wasn't standing next to my quarters... or the infirmary. It's not proof positive, but a strong indication.
I didn't bump into another crewman for twenty minutes after that. The crew density on this ship is amazingly low.
Second, dimensional cruisers are the best places to live. Once I found a member of the crew to ask for directions, it was a five minute walk to my temporary quarters (which, I'm glad to say, were not in any of the places I'd wandered through), after which I immediately fell in love.
What kind of military organization puts a genuine shower- an extra-large shower with unlimited hot water and six shower heads, no less- in every single set of quarters? What kind of military gives every crewman a queen-sized bed all to themselves? Apparently, this one.
Sure, it was a basic, three-room suite, but this little suite was better than any hotel room I'd ever been in on Earth.
Did I mention it had a SHOWER?
(As best I can tell, my skin is a good bit more naturally oily than most. I have to scrub harder than most people, I muck up touchscreens a good bit quicker than J. Random Techie, and I can utterly destroy certain types of dye. You have no idea how many blue shirts I've had to retire because they went orange around the collar. Destroyed one in two days. No joke.
Side effect is that I can't go without a shower for more than about a day before I start to feel grody. I was trapped on that planet for six, with only one dunk in a river midway through. Do the math.)
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.