[accidental visual] of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax
The return of some semblance of normality (or the newer version of it, anyway) had prompted Wikus to start wandering, exploring this new environment he had been unceremoniously thrown into. While before he had been content to return to his old ways, comforted by the fact that this new place, wherever it was, held none of the dangers he had been forced to deal with before, the unexplained upheaval of even the semblance of normal had again awakened something more. Not a rejection of things, and nothing major, but a realization that he didn't need to accept things so easily this time around. He could start afresh amongst these people who didn't really know him. It was liberating.
And so he went exploring, small distances at first, unwilling to stray too far from 'home', but it had finally brought him here.
A slice of actual home, even if it wasn't the most welcome.
His surroundings are drab, punctuated occasionally with specks of color amongst the rusted, corrugated metal sheets that make up most of the walls. It's well-constructed despite the fact that it looks as if it could collapse at any moment, and pieces of discarded technology, anything from monitors to hard drives and cd drives to partially deconstructed laptops with wires and circuits exposed and piles of motherboards. It looks more like a particularly geeky packrat's hidey-hole, with little rhyme or reason to what's there and what isn't. His own tablet has been abandoned somewhere in the pile, and the picture it presents anyone watching is tilted and obscured in one corner by something blurred beyond recognition thanks to extreme proximity.
And in the middle of it sits Wikus, poking through everything and looking more than a little overwhelmed by it all. For once he's using both hands, the makeshift sling hanging empty at his side and the alien hand surprisingly nimble despite its appearance, although it's probably largely because he doesn't realize he's being watched.
And so he went exploring, small distances at first, unwilling to stray too far from 'home', but it had finally brought him here.
A slice of actual home, even if it wasn't the most welcome.
His surroundings are drab, punctuated occasionally with specks of color amongst the rusted, corrugated metal sheets that make up most of the walls. It's well-constructed despite the fact that it looks as if it could collapse at any moment, and pieces of discarded technology, anything from monitors to hard drives and cd drives to partially deconstructed laptops with wires and circuits exposed and piles of motherboards. It looks more like a particularly geeky packrat's hidey-hole, with little rhyme or reason to what's there and what isn't. His own tablet has been abandoned somewhere in the pile, and the picture it presents anyone watching is tilted and obscured in one corner by something blurred beyond recognition thanks to extreme proximity.
And in the middle of it sits Wikus, poking through everything and looking more than a little overwhelmed by it all. For once he's using both hands, the makeshift sling hanging empty at his side and the alien hand surprisingly nimble despite its appearance, although it's probably largely because he doesn't realize he's being watched.