[Ground crew] All came tumbling down.
I'm not sure what I'm doing here.
It's sort of an oft-repeated refrain of my life, from an existential standpoint, but right now, perched in a seat in this place called New Atlantis with my feet under me because I cannot sit down right now, it's more of a straightforward question. I would very much like to be hiding in a cave, but I can't. I can't, for the same reason that I want to be hiding in said cave:
The sky is falling.
I shade my eyes and look up, and can just see it, still just a dot, a speck. I'm sure it's bigger than the last time I looked, which was ten seconds ago. It's kind of hard to keep my eyes off it. It's headed right for us, that much I know, that much I can figure out, but so can everyone else here. That's the point. Every smart person they could find in a couple of minutes, gathered to put our heads together and work out how to stop the island being turned into a crater. Our shiny new space station is headed right for us, because of course it is.
Like I said, I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm a high school student. I'm a very smart high school student, sure, but I'm pretty sure there's a couple of big scientific guns here, and I don't know what I can contribute -- all I have to my name is a chemistry set that was magically delivered the other day, and whipping up an extra large batch of webbing probably isn't going to cut it, day-saving-wise. But Peter apparently tapped me on the shoulder from space, gave them my name and said I was a person to have on the team. It's very sweet, and all, nice he has faith in a clone he only met less than a month ago, but I am too terrified to be flattered right now.
Okay. Keep it together, Jessica.
I look at the group. I might as well kick things off, even if I kind of hope someone else is going to take the lead. Or at least have better ideas. "A big net's probably not going to cut it, right?"
It's sort of an oft-repeated refrain of my life, from an existential standpoint, but right now, perched in a seat in this place called New Atlantis with my feet under me because I cannot sit down right now, it's more of a straightforward question. I would very much like to be hiding in a cave, but I can't. I can't, for the same reason that I want to be hiding in said cave:
The sky is falling.
I shade my eyes and look up, and can just see it, still just a dot, a speck. I'm sure it's bigger than the last time I looked, which was ten seconds ago. It's kind of hard to keep my eyes off it. It's headed right for us, that much I know, that much I can figure out, but so can everyone else here. That's the point. Every smart person they could find in a couple of minutes, gathered to put our heads together and work out how to stop the island being turned into a crater. Our shiny new space station is headed right for us, because of course it is.
Like I said, I'm not sure why I'm here. I'm a high school student. I'm a very smart high school student, sure, but I'm pretty sure there's a couple of big scientific guns here, and I don't know what I can contribute -- all I have to my name is a chemistry set that was magically delivered the other day, and whipping up an extra large batch of webbing probably isn't going to cut it, day-saving-wise. But Peter apparently tapped me on the shoulder from space, gave them my name and said I was a person to have on the team. It's very sweet, and all, nice he has faith in a clone he only met less than a month ago, but I am too terrified to be flattered right now.
Okay. Keep it together, Jessica.
I look at the group. I might as well kick things off, even if I kind of hope someone else is going to take the lead. Or at least have better ideas. "A big net's probably not going to cut it, right?"