I. [AUDIO]
[ The sound clicks on, and then there's a surprised pause. It's just a little bit unexpected; here he thought he'd be fussing with the buttons for another ten minutes before he could figure out how to transmit but, well.
Seems that technology's pretty much the same everywhere.
A few noisy taps near the microphone, and then: ]
Hello.
[ He leans in closer to the device. ]
I see I'm not alone in being new or confused here. Is there anyone home who could tell me where this is, who sent the invitation and what they want?
I don't want to be ungrateful for the privilege, but you've caught me at a really bad time. If I don't pay for my groceries, they won't let me shop there any more.
[ Kubota pauses, and then there's the clicking of a dying lighter in the background and a deep, slow inhale. For making the effort, he's not really expecting much; he's played enough video games and been involved in enough kidnappings to know how this sort of thing works. They wouldn't bring people here just to let them off easy.
He's audibly moving, the scraping of his shoes distantly heard on the microphone; walking, stopping, turning. Turning again, exploring every room of the little place he's been deposited in. Walking a little faster in the last moments, more urgent, and then stopping again. There's a long, considered silence.
When his voice returns, his tone is different; it could be a general question, but with the way it's said, with the obvious trace of emotion behind it, it's more likely to be directed at someone quite specific. ]
Are you there?
[ He's expecting an answer, so it's some time before he realises the transmission needs to end before receiving kicks in. Lucky that it's a pretty intuitive system; three buttons are pushed with thoughtful precision, and the transmission abruptly cuts out. ]
Seems that technology's pretty much the same everywhere.
A few noisy taps near the microphone, and then: ]
Hello.
[ He leans in closer to the device. ]
I see I'm not alone in being new or confused here. Is there anyone home who could tell me where this is, who sent the invitation and what they want?
I don't want to be ungrateful for the privilege, but you've caught me at a really bad time. If I don't pay for my groceries, they won't let me shop there any more.
[ Kubota pauses, and then there's the clicking of a dying lighter in the background and a deep, slow inhale. For making the effort, he's not really expecting much; he's played enough video games and been involved in enough kidnappings to know how this sort of thing works. They wouldn't bring people here just to let them off easy.
He's audibly moving, the scraping of his shoes distantly heard on the microphone; walking, stopping, turning. Turning again, exploring every room of the little place he's been deposited in. Walking a little faster in the last moments, more urgent, and then stopping again. There's a long, considered silence.
When his voice returns, his tone is different; it could be a general question, but with the way it's said, with the obvious trace of emotion behind it, it's more likely to be directed at someone quite specific. ]
Are you there?
[ He's expecting an answer, so it's some time before he realises the transmission needs to end before receiving kicks in. Lucky that it's a pretty intuitive system; three buttons are pushed with thoughtful precision, and the transmission abruptly cuts out. ]