She was tempted to laugh. She figured one of these days she'd find someone who actually enjoyed the slop in the mess hall. Not today. "I think we can avoid the slop for now."
Sakura pulled the box of refolded clothing up, moving it back to where it had been before shed pulled everything out for Ren. "Home sounds like a good idea to me," she said amiably, picking up his former shoes. "I've got your old shoes. Did you want me to carry your old clothes, too, or have you got them yourself?"
"Looks like we're ready." She looked up, waving to one of the other staff members. It's a semi-official nod toward protocol, and they all are contactable by ring or comm device should they be needed back in MedBay. "Do you remember the gravity tubes?"
Sakura nodded, internalizing that along with everything else. "At least you won't be surprised at how we change levels," she said with a grin, winking. "Unless gravity tubes and director tentacles are part of things for you back home."
Sakura wasn't sure she wanted to answer that question, if her bias toward younger audiences had her answering anyway. "We're not sure," she confessed, "If we expect it has something to do with the ship itself. It's not a perfect theory. Some people have been losing memories of events on sip, if part of that looks more like a coping mechanism than total memory and time loss. It's possible the clock can only function in a way that affects physical time and memory from our original worlds. Outside of that kind of linear context, its effects break down."
In short, they had no idea. Theories, but nothing concrete. Expecting the ship to help hold memories together begged a kind of ongoing connection and memory back-up that was distinctly disturbing. (Not that the ship was anything less, even on great days.)
"Yes, from what we can tell." She looked bothered by it, if it was hard to tell what about the selective block was most worrisome. "It makes things easier than they'd be otherwise. Can't forget how great the mess hall is, even if you want to!" She winked at that.
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Sakura pulled the box of refolded clothing up, moving it back to where it had been before shed pulled everything out for Ren. "Home sounds like a good idea to me," she said amiably, picking up his former shoes. "I've got your old shoes. Did you want me to carry your old clothes, too, or have you got them yourself?"
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In short, they had no idea. Theories, but nothing concrete. Expecting the ship to help hold memories together begged a kind of ongoing connection and memory back-up that was distinctly disturbing. (Not that the ship was anything less, even on great days.)
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