voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post February]

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A New Platform [Intro Post February]

On the Train

Three days after the Voidtreckers return to the void after their adventures on the biosphere world, they are awoken by a familiar announcement.

"Good morning passengers, it is day Sixteen of the month of Jelly. Points have been updated on the system."

They have indeed, and everyone can spend the morning shopping. Those who have been on the train for a while will also be expecting the second announcement that comes a few hours later.

"Shortly arriving into a designated void platform. Exit from void in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." A lurch and a jolt and the windows fill with the fog that means they are at a platform. The fog seems thicker than usual and as they step out onto the platform they will find it is cold, very cold. Icy fog sticks to their clothing, makes it hard to see very far; the atmosphere is dark and gloomy.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers: Alexis Rhodes, Elfnein, Itsuki Myoudouin, Ken Ichijouji, MT, Neku Sakuraba, Nike Lemercier, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Rainbow Dash, Rei Saotome, Taichi Yagami, Tsubomi Hanasaki, Yuri Tsukikage and Zechs Merquise all pass through the platform, not looking back before they disappear through the barriers and into the fog beyond.

But on the platform itself there are new faces. Wearing hoodies in all four colours, in various states of confusion.

For New Passengers

At first all they can see is steam, billowing around them as they come to their senses. As their eyes adjust, they will see they are on a platform, glass and dark stone rising in sturdy arches around them. Behind them is a set of barriers, and in front of them is a single track extending both ways into thick fog.

They are standing, in clothes that are not their own and a style they might not even recognise. They are carrying a rucksack on their back. For a moment it seems to just be them, alone in the white haze; then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large with sixteen figures scattered around, all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. To both the left and right, tracks disappear into the mist. Then there is a roaring sound and out of the fog arrives a train. Jet black with gold writing on the side. The Voidtrecker Express. There is a hiss as the doors slide open and out step a strange assortment of people. Some are human, some are less so. Most are wearing the same hoodie in one of the four colours, red, orange, blue and purple, though some are sporting different clothes in a variety of styles.

The Train

After a short time, the doors hiss open again. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there's anywhere else to go and even if there was, you feel a pull. A need to board, a feeling that staying on the platform would lead to something terrible. If that is not enough, there are plenty of people on the platform now, to encourage them onto the train.

Each ICP shows the same message and next to the screens there are stacks of leaflets written by those on the train, with further information (see
'Publications'). The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, including several crates of avocados, the ingredient of the month of Jelly, as well as all sundries.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags.

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. They may need to negotiate for beds, especially if they want a top bunk!

Room is tight but there are storage cubbies at the head of each bed, beds fold up and the bottom bunks double as benches for the small table. There is storage under those benches full of spare blankets and pillows.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers braving the freezing fog, and the doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, but they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view again as it picks up speed.

"Welcome aboard, passengers of the Voidtrecker Express." A female-coded artificial sounding voice echoes throughout the train. "Please take the time to read the passenger information displayed on the Information and Communication points and familiarise yourself with the layout and emergency exits."

The train begins to tilt, leaving the ground and rising up into the fog-filled sky.

"Entrance into Voidspace imminent. New passengers are advised to remain seated. Entry into Voidspace in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

A shudder, a jolt, a lurch to the left. A flash of light, colourful and blinding. As quick as it happens it is done. The train seems to steady itself. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Merwen puts out a hand automatically to help the person falling into her space, but -- well, she seems okay. That's reassuring. She hasn't seen a pink person before, but honestly, that's hardly worth remarking on, from her point of view.

"I'll be careful," she promises. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No--No just was a little distracted." She tucks back a lock of hair, not quite looking up.

"Your--insect? Is it a pet? I've never seen anything exactly like it."

"It's a clickfly."

Merwen extends her arm to show her; the bug turns in her palm to look at Persephone, mandibles clicking away. "They make their nests on our rafts, and we lifeshape them to hold information in their chromosomes, and to spin words in their web when we wish to read them. The poor thing is away from her hive, but I suppose I am, too."

"Aren't we all?"

Persephone leans in to take a better look, fascinated. It'd be rude to touch, probably, but the urge is there. It seems so much more tame than insects she's met. Sure, she attracts butterflies, but not ones that act like pets.

"How--how interesting! Um--but what's lifeshaping? Like--breeding them to do this?" What is breeding animals to do certain things except shaping a life?

"It's a type of breeding."

How to explain lifeshaping? She's not the expert, but she does have the very good fortune to be married to a lifeshaper. "A lifeshaper has many roles. A lifeshaper might change a plant or animal to be something more useful or more healthy, but she might also create a new type of life to serve a role. She can create a microbe that will grow a medicine for a new sickness, or a fungus in a brilliant colour to coax to grow upon the wall in a pretty pattern, or create a mix of hormones to give to a starworm so that it will sing a song to other rafts telling them of our news. A lifeshaper can also tell the cells of a sister's body how to repair themselves when she is badly injured."

The clickfly, interested by the attention of this new person, hop-flies the short distance between them to land on Persephone's arm. It clicks a little to itself as it explores.

It sounds half godly, half science. Changing creatures, creating life for pleasure or purpose, godly. But medicine and healing and all of that--she's fascinated, listening with her eyes fully upon this stranger.

"It sounds so--diverse! And useful. Not even my powers are quite so--all over the place. Though I guess when your power is 'shaping life' you can get a lot variations on it. Are there more than one or--is this like a subset of your people?" It's so tempting to ask if they're descendants of the gods. She might have, if the clickfly hadn't landed on her, exploring with a confidence that Persephone, as a stranger, hadn't expected.

"Oh--hello there. Sadly, I am foodless. Unless--what does it eat?"

"Clickflies will eat anything, truly. Leaves, a bit of fish. They are resourceful."

Merwen sits back in her seat, watching Persephone with the clickfly. "Lifeshaping is a skill that can be learned. My lovesharer, Usha, is the most experienced lifeshaper on our raft, Raia-el. There are others that work with her. It isn't a skill I have. My talents lie elsewhere." She smiles, disarmingly.

Leaves she can do. A set of laurel leaves springs up on the crown of her head, curling over her ears. She picks one and carefully holds it out for the clickfly, waiting for a reaction.

"Lovesharer--your partner?" She tilts up, smiling right back, "That's a lovely thing to call them."

"I'm partial to the word," Merwen says, smiling.

The clickfly tilts its head to look at the laurel with its compound eyes, then it takes the leaf delicately into its mandibles and settles down to chew, making pleased little clicks to itself.

"How did you do that?" She's never seen magic, never seen anything like that. Lifeshaping is science, and while it can create things, it's not... like that. Merwen leans forward, interested. "You just... you created life.'

Yes, this is all she wanted. It's so cute, settled down with the leaf. She watches it until Merwen speaks, her gaze shooting up to meet hers. This is always the awkward part of every interaction on the train, the inevitable explanation. And it doesn't feel like this one where she's going to get away with the blanket statement.

"I'm a goddess. Goddess of spring. So plants, flowers, I can create them or just make them grow. Which comes in handy when the train decides you get one main of ingredient a month and they pick something like bacon." She's trying very hard to remain still, so the clickfly doesn't wander off.

These are words she knows, definitely, but there's not much context for Merwen for a deity being a lovely young woman present in the flesh. Her first impulse would be to compare it to lifeshaping, but this is clearly not that. Skilled lifeshaper that Usha the Inconsiderate One might be, she can't create something out of thin air. For about a beat, Merwen stares, while the clickfly chews away, unconcerned by any of this drama.

"Forgive me. You're a goddess? As in, a divine being who is worshipped?" She's trying very, very hard not to let her scepticism turn into rudeness. "Or is it more that your abilities give you influence among your people? Please, learnshare with me."

Edited (Accidentally a word) 2021-02-08 02:39 (UTC)

"Kind of. My worship is kind of all wrapped up in my mother, Demeter, goddess of the harvest and agriculture and all those things."

Learnshare--are there more terms in her language that revolve around sharing? It makes the words feel softer, even when she's sure this other woman is skeptical. Some are, but not usually after a display of power. It's weird to still be doubted after creating life wholesale.

"It's not--there are mortals, humans. Like any basic human, I guess, work the land, die at varying ages. Then nymphs, their life is tied to a water source or land or tree. And all the others, satyrs and nymphs and various creatures. Then gods, like me. Immortal and with varying powers. Over land, sea, emotional concepts, forces of nature, all that. Some grand, some small, it varies. I'm a minor goddess."

"Your world must be... very different from mine." Merwen shakes her head. "I don't believe that beings like yourself exist in the world I know. Holding life to be divine and sacred, though, that I do understand. I would think anyone who held the sort of power you seem to embody would be deeply respected, far beyond 'minor goddess.'"

She smiles; she doesn't understand, not really, but she's trying. It's a warm, faintly apologetic sort of expression. "In the universe I know, there is a being who claims divinity, who is worshipped on Valedon and likely other worlds as well, but he is not human, not a god, but a creation of thinking coldstone. He shares violence and cruelty, has encouraged it to spread among the Valans through the emissaries he sends, and that is not something worth holding in esteem. I'll accept that you're something different, though."

"Oh--that's--yeah, I understand. There are those who kind of hold similar mindsets to that being in my world. Other gods. We're like any other sort of beings, we all kind of think and do things differently."

She shrugs, gently, trying not to disturb the clickfly with her movements.

"Like I said though, my worship is all mixed up with my mother's. She did all the things I do now before I was born, it's just my domain in particular at the moment. She kind of got more of the agriculture and harvest portion of it as I gained more of the spring and growth part." It's a little hard to explain how the division of powers, the line of respect and the reasons mortals hold certain gods above others. "I'm kind of just flowers and stuff to a lot of mortals."

The clickfly manages to stuff the last of the leaf into its mouth, and then it proceeds to climb up Persephone's arm to settle in comfortably on her shoulder. Congratulations, you have a friend now. Merwen suppresses a smile at this. Amusing, but not surprising for her.

"Flowers are important," she says, more seriously. "A flower brings forth the fruit or nut, which may begin a new life, or be eaten by animal or human to give her life. Even if you are 'just flowers and stuff,' I wouldn't count that as being unimportant."

Yes, another creature befriended. Her eyes light up, she shifts to watch it crawl up her arm and settle down with the air of something that has found a perfectly safe place to rest. Her delight is only slightly dimmed by the serious conversation.

"You're not the first person to say it. All I can say is that my world is ruled by people who don't have the same interests as you or as mortals might. There as many gods as people on this train, probably more, and they all have different aspects, different desires in their worship and different people who worship them. When I say I'm a minor goddess, I mean more in the hierarchy. You have to do something important or impressive or know the right people to become someone important to the mortals who worship you. Not just the one who brings flowers into bloom. That's everyday. I'm gone from home, yet it will still continue. My mother will still continue it."

"Oh," Merwen says, with a faint discomfort, "hierarchy. I know this word but it's no Sharer word. I am tired of hierarchy."

A Valan thing. A thing of sickness and stupidity, as far as she's concerned. She'd rather change the subject.

"We've shared this much speech, and yet we haven't shared names," she points out. "My name is Merwen the Impatient One."

Yeah, Persephone can get being tired of hierarchy. It's starting to ruin her life, piece by piece, at home. So she takes the subject change in stride. She takes in the title with a little surprise.

"Wha--I mean. I'm Persephone. Um, Goddess of Spring. Is that your title at home? The impatient one?"

"It's my selfname. Sharers take a selfname of their greatest weakness when we're ready to be seen as sisters, equals in the community rather than children. It shows we know ourselves." She's already getting the impression she's going to have to explain this a lot. But that's fine.

"Oh--oh that's so..." Strange, interesting. Knowing yourself enough to share what is your weakness. It brings to mind her own weaknesses, what she might choose.

"Different. Intriguing, honestly. Isn't it difficult to find your greatest weakness, to chose to say it in front of everyone?" She's vaguely aware that she's probably asking far too many questions, but the concept it so unique, "Do people ever chose a less intense weakness out of shame or fear or something like that?"

"It can be," Merwen says, honestly. "It's hard to share your weaknesses, sometimes. That you're willing to be honest about who you are is what allows you to share at the Gathering. I'm sure there have been some who hide their true weakness and take a false selfname, though no one I've known. Honestly, I think most would know the truth anyway."

"I suppose if you know it's coming your whole life, you can be more honest with yourself. I'd feel put on the spot, vulnerable, but if you know it's expected, I imagine you can get used to the idea."

Maybe? Or maybe it's just as nerve-wracking. Her world must be far more close knit, for others to know your weaknesses. Are there no secrets? Or is a weakness far more pervasive, obvious, part of your everyday life and not who you are by yourself, with just those close. Persephone shuts down the whirlwind of thoughts with a visible lift of her shoulders.

"Being an adult is just a matter of age for us. Though, I suppose there's gradients in that too."

"It's a point of pride among us," Merwen says with a shrug. "Most of us look forward to the day we declare our selfname and be able to speak at a Gathering. My lovesharer is Usha the Inconsiderate One. The daughter of my womb is Lystra the Intemperate One. Our other children are Wellen the Screamer and Weia Who Spits Up Her Food."

A funny, slightly pained expression passes over her face. "I am proud of them, but it is... not usual for children so young to take selfnames."

"...I think Weia is going to find that's not such a big weakness when she gets older." She laughs, "Are they very young, to have selfnames like that? Or do selfnames stick, no matter how you change?"

"They tend to stick," Merwen says. "It's rare for a sister to change her name. Weia, though." She gives a sigh, and with her manner suddenly quite a bit more serious, she looks Persephone in the eyes. "The story of how my youngest daughters took selfnames so young is a... complicated story, and not a happy one, though I am proud of them for having done it. I will share it with you if you wish."

A New Platform [Intro Post February]

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