[Visual]/[Location | The Last Mistake] Part the Second: Amusement
Nazca is now reasonably sure of the tablet’s basic functions, even if it will be awhile before she figures out privacy locks or the archives. Still, for someone from her technology level, she’s not doing horribly. Thus her transmission is, in fact, a deliberate one.
She’s seated at a table in an old-world tavern, decorated with broken arms, armor and sailing paraphenalia. She’s got a small glass of brandy by her and adjusts her glasses slightly as she looks at the screen.
“Good day, fellow captives of Taxon. I am Nazca Barsavi, and I daresay I have so far met very few of you. But our absent hosts have graciously provided me with a tavern and I find the options of having it empty or full of drones unsatisfying. So, for those of you who are in need of diversion, I propose some friendly games of skill. Cards or dice, though if any of you wish to introduce native games of your homes, by all means, bring whoever you can convince. I suggest, as using credits for stakes might prove tricky, you bring easily bartered goods to use instead.”
Then, very matter of factly, she takes off her glasses, folds them, and steps back a step into the tavern. It might almost seem intentional.
Until the lights change, the music kicks in, and there are suddenly backup Extras. Those from 21st century Earth might guess where this is going.
You wanna hold em’ like they do in Texas plays
Fold em' let em' hit you raise it baby stay with me (I love it)
Lovegame and intuition play the cards with spades to start
And after they’ve been hooked you'll play the one that's on their heart
Nazca’s choreography is rather impressive; her boots provide a percussive rhythm whenever they hit the floor. The Extras chime in:
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh
Get him hot, show him what you've got
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh,
Get him hot, show him what you've got
But you
Can't read my,
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
Can't read my
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
P-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
Smoothly, she jumps up on a table. For all the world, it looks like a music video at this point.
If you wanna roll with me a hard pair we would be
A little gambling is fun when you're with me
(I love it)
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun
And baby don’t you know if its not rough it isn't fun, fun
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh
Get the cards hot, show me what you’ve got
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh,
Get the cards hot, show me what you’ve got
Can't read my,
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
Can't read my
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
P-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
At this point, the glitch seems to run out. Nazca, the picture of dignity, steps off the table and turns and glares at the Extras until they leave. Then she sits, unfolds her glasses, and puts them on.
“If anyone is interested,” she says, acting for all the world as if nothing had happened, “please contact me, and I will try to facilitate a time convenient for a large group of players. Thank you for your attention.”
And she terminates the feed. There’s no reason to acknowledge the song wasn’t her original plan, and she doesn’t intend to.
Gods-damned rodents.
She’s seated at a table in an old-world tavern, decorated with broken arms, armor and sailing paraphenalia. She’s got a small glass of brandy by her and adjusts her glasses slightly as she looks at the screen.
“Good day, fellow captives of Taxon. I am Nazca Barsavi, and I daresay I have so far met very few of you. But our absent hosts have graciously provided me with a tavern and I find the options of having it empty or full of drones unsatisfying. So, for those of you who are in need of diversion, I propose some friendly games of skill. Cards or dice, though if any of you wish to introduce native games of your homes, by all means, bring whoever you can convince. I suggest, as using credits for stakes might prove tricky, you bring easily bartered goods to use instead.”
Then, very matter of factly, she takes off her glasses, folds them, and steps back a step into the tavern. It might almost seem intentional.
Until the lights change, the music kicks in, and there are suddenly backup Extras. Those from 21st century Earth might guess where this is going.
You wanna hold em’ like they do in Texas plays
Fold em' let em' hit you raise it baby stay with me (I love it)
Lovegame and intuition play the cards with spades to start
And after they’ve been hooked you'll play the one that's on their heart
Nazca’s choreography is rather impressive; her boots provide a percussive rhythm whenever they hit the floor. The Extras chime in:
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh
Get him hot, show him what you've got
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh,
Get him hot, show him what you've got
But you
Can't read my,
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
Can't read my
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
P-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
Smoothly, she jumps up on a table. For all the world, it looks like a music video at this point.
If you wanna roll with me a hard pair we would be
A little gambling is fun when you're with me
(I love it)
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun
And baby don’t you know if its not rough it isn't fun, fun
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh
Get the cards hot, show me what you’ve got
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhhh, ohh-oh-e-ohh-oh-oh,
Get the cards hot, show me what you’ve got
Can't read my,
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
Can't read my
Can't read my
No you can't read my poker face
(she’s got to love nobody)
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
P-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
At this point, the glitch seems to run out. Nazca, the picture of dignity, steps off the table and turns and glares at the Extras until they leave. Then she sits, unfolds her glasses, and puts them on.
“If anyone is interested,” she says, acting for all the world as if nothing had happened, “please contact me, and I will try to facilitate a time convenient for a large group of players. Thank you for your attention.”
And she terminates the feed. There’s no reason to acknowledge the song wasn’t her original plan, and she doesn’t intend to.
Gods-damned rodents.