02 - Voice
I've been here almost ten days now.
In that time... [She sighs.] I know I was lucky not to be down there. I just don't feel it. I'm a little....numb.
I've been told that it'll be better if I don't try to rationalise, and...I can understand that. If I don't tell myself it's all in my head now, it won't be so hard to accept it's not, later.
But it's hard. I'm alone, and...it's hard. Where I'm from, zombies and - zombies and giant spaceships and aliens are all on the other side of a TV screen. They aren't real. All my mind wants to do is make that distance again and make all this not real.
How do you all keep yourselves from going insane?
That isn't a rhetorical question. I want to know. Please. How do you live like this?
[Long silence.]
Paddy, Dean...? Cissie? Are you all right?
[Open Spam] - multithreads etc. heartily encouraged, she'll be around for a while
[No Warden yet. No Warden meant that nobody had access to her 'file', whatever it might happen to contain, which meant she was free to continue playing the 'lost little girl' act until it broke or until she got bored of it. Boredom seemed a constant, lingering affliction of the Barge, more insidious than the occasional (if more immediate) threat of the undead.
Alice was wandering the deck after dinner. She dragged her fingertips along the handrail for a few feet, then swung her legs over and sat down on the top bar, steadying herself with her hands as she leant forward, peering down into the starry darkness beneath the Barge. Wildly dangerous, perhaps, but the thought barely hung around long enough to be considered before passing her by.]
In that time... [She sighs.] I know I was lucky not to be down there. I just don't feel it. I'm a little....numb.
I've been told that it'll be better if I don't try to rationalise, and...I can understand that. If I don't tell myself it's all in my head now, it won't be so hard to accept it's not, later.
But it's hard. I'm alone, and...it's hard. Where I'm from, zombies and - zombies and giant spaceships and aliens are all on the other side of a TV screen. They aren't real. All my mind wants to do is make that distance again and make all this not real.
How do you all keep yourselves from going insane?
That isn't a rhetorical question. I want to know. Please. How do you live like this?
[Long silence.]
Paddy, Dean...? Cissie? Are you all right?
[Open Spam] - multithreads etc. heartily encouraged, she'll be around for a while
[No Warden yet. No Warden meant that nobody had access to her 'file', whatever it might happen to contain, which meant she was free to continue playing the 'lost little girl' act until it broke or until she got bored of it. Boredom seemed a constant, lingering affliction of the Barge, more insidious than the occasional (if more immediate) threat of the undead.
Alice was wandering the deck after dinner. She dragged her fingertips along the handrail for a few feet, then swung her legs over and sat down on the top bar, steadying herself with her hands as she leant forward, peering down into the starry darkness beneath the Barge. Wildly dangerous, perhaps, but the thought barely hung around long enough to be considered before passing her by.]