voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post December]

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A New Platform [Intro Post December]

On the Train

It's only been a couple of days since the Voidtrecker Express took to the void once more, and many of the passengers are still recovering and recuperating after a very hectic end to their latest mission. Nevertheless, they are awoken by a familiar message.

"Good morning passengers, it is day sixteen of the month of Imagination. 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 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. It is warm outside with a pleasant breeze that flows down the platform, rustling the light spread of leaves that litter the floor.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Akemi Homura, Alfred the Poisoner, Donatello Versus, Chie Satonaka, Joscelin Fitzthomas, Ronan Lynch, Rose Tyler, Tangle the Lemur, Trowa Barton, Wester Mazaki and Whisper the Wolf 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. The second thing they will notice is the swirling leaves at their feet, moving in flurries and rattling against each other softly. As their eyes adjust, they will see they are on a platform, cement and packed earth forming a very practical, plain-looking shelter. 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 but then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large and it holds eight figures all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. Both left and right the 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 into the gloom step a selection 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

The doors hiss open. 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 more jars of honey, the ingredient of the month of Imagination, as well as sundries.

A new carriage has been added right next to the luggage carriage. It is a second medical carriage, or triage carriage. Downstairs is more open with beds and chairs, upstairs are two surgical bays for those that need immediate attention.

For those intrigued by the claim of a parcel for every passenger they will find several large boxes filled with small blue bags. Inside each bag is ten dark blue coins imprinted on each side with a silver snowflake. Each bag has a small label with a passengers name. On the other side of the label it reads: Keep these safe for now.

Of course for any passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage as well.

New passengers will find their tickets allow 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 and you will hopefully find a pillow for your bed if it has not been nabbed by a roommate, there are also spare blankets for if it gets cold.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers taking advantage of the pleasant weather 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. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

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Without any sign of self-consciousness, Devero reaches up and takes it. Apparently he's fairly used to being helped up by people smaller than him, because he's careful not to yank the smaller off-balance as he regains his feet.

"You did," he says with a wry twist to his lips. "That was my own fault. Can't believe my Interface stayed on through that."

He straightens out his clothes and looks away for a moment, his gaze going to the middle distance as he gestures through the quick diagnostic routine with said Interface. No errors found - what a relief.

Turning back to Gen, he starts to make a new gesture with one hand, then halts it and lets the hand drop. There isn't any point, is there? "My name's Devero," he says instead, "he/him. Thanks for the warning, even if I ignored it."

Gen makes a few little observations. Purple. Not too surprising, the way he looked. Not that they knew what the colors were for, really, but there seemed to be an effort to keep most of the fighting types on different teams, but. There's a lot of Purple and he had good company here. Courteous. Assured of himself, cocky with it, but not unable to give out an apology and admit fault. Interesting. Knew technology. Seemed modern, at least as modern as he was - more or less - or maybe even further in the future.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, my friend. It's probably your first void train kidnapping, you didn't know what to expect," Gen said sympathetically, smiling kindly at him. "My name is Gen. He/him pronouns, and you're quite welcome. It wasn't too long ago when I was a new abductee myself."

"What is this Interface you're referring to?" he had to ask.

Edited 2020-12-03 04:51 (UTC)

"Definitely my first void train kidnapping," Devero groans, dragging a hand through his hair. He is not remotely yet resigned to this situation; there is a little gibbering part of him that continues to insist that all of this is absolutely impossible. But he's always been taught that the past is in the past, and the best thing you can do in a difficult situation is figure out how to move forward. He doesn't know what to expect, no-- but there are plenty of people here he can learn from. "How long have you been here?"

He's wearing a streamlined little device against his ear, and taps it at Gen's question. "This. It's a computer. Apparently those are very rare around here."

"A couple of months," Gen told him, a little sheepish. "I'm no happier being here, believe me, but you do become more ... used to it? I guess? I guess people can adapt to just about anything."

He's curious. So curious. Part of him wants to take a look and bring it to Senku and see what kinds of things one can do with it. So tiny. How powerful was it? Was he from a place more advanced than Gen's once-modern-before-things-went-to-shit world? Was it simply just a tiny wearable device, like a smartwatch or glasses?

But his expression remained innocent, playful, a little silly. "They are! Based on what I've heard from everyone, we all got to take one thing from home with us, and most of the time - those aren't computers. Kind of a shame. I wouldn't mind being able to play some video games when I get bored, you know?"

"Like a frog in a pot of water, being brought up to a boil?" Creche is a while behind him but he remembers history lessons about the kinds of conditions people adapted to. "Getting used to it is one thing; complacency is another."

He blows out a breath. "If we only get one thing, I'm glad mine was my Interface. I don't know what I'd do without it." His expression goes a little grim. "Then again, I don't know what I'm going to do without network access as well."

Okay, big guy, chill out. He brings his attention back to Gen and groans. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised there's no gaming on a transport that doesn't really have proper computers," he mutters, "yet here I am. Not that I game much anymore, but sometimes you just need to play, right?"

“Complacency is a word I’ve heard thrown around sometimes, even if I’d hesitate to use it,” Gen lied. “But I can’t deny it might be, ah. Maybe accurate for some people? I shouldn’t judge too much.”

Gen then grinned, it’s additional information about the too serious man right there. “Ah. I’ve actually heard some people have bought some with points! I haven’t been here too long, relatively, so I’ve been focusing on other stuff. But, I think if you ask around you might find someone willing to game with you.”

“Then again, if you’re ever in the mood for cards, that’s something we have plenty of, and I know a few other people who’d want to play,” Gen gave him a playful wink.

"Cards? They're actual analogue paper cards, aren't they?" At least he doesn't seem intrinsically horrified by the concept? "That's so old-fashioned, I don't think I've played with cards since I was in creche! Someone'll probably have to teach me the rules, though, it's been a while."

But there's something else he's more interested in right now. "I keep hearing people talk about points," he says. "Fill me in?"

"Yes, actual analogue cards," Gen chuckled, and pulled one from 'mid-air' with some slight of hand, twirling it in his fingers. "I'd be happy to teach you the rules, my friend. Old-fashioned or not, it's something I can always have on me, no batteries or electricity required."

He hummed. "Ah, so. We don't know how people earn them, but they're basically the currency the train accepts here. And, yes, indeed, the fact it's currency and we don't know how to get it is really, really annoying. But! If you need to get new clothes, candy, weapons, pets, basically anything ... you can buy it from the train's store with points. Every time the train stops to pick up new people, we get more of them. In apparently random amounts."

Gasp! No, really-- he gasps, apparently thrilled by the trick. "That was brilliant! Do you have a whole deck with you?"

That... actually doesn't seem to phase Devero. In fact, he chuckles, and gives his head a rueful shake. "Sounds like Gov setting req levels," he says. Apparently this is a long-standing joke of intrinsic meaning to him-- but probably not, he realizes to Gen. "--Er. The algorithms the World Government uses to determine a citizen or organization's requisition level are notoriously impenetrable, and occasionally misfire spectacularly." He shrugs. "So that doesn't sound too unusual to me."

Oh. This man was an easy sell for his magic, then, wasn't he? Gen beamed at him, charming and friendly. "I do. I also have another deck on me from the games carriage, since my personal deck is a little customized. I also can perform magic tricks and tell fortunes, if you're interested."

Gen then blinked at him, and asked him wryly, "You mean, in the reality you were kidnapped from - you've got no idea how people can consistently earn money, either?"

That sounded pretty nightmarish. Of course, when he was performing, some years he could at book more profitable venues with his agent's help than others. Sometimes he could secure book deals and television appearances, sometimes he needed to get creative. But that was chance, luck of the draw, skill in negotiating with people - it wasn't a machine or train deciding randomly what his time was worth.

Yes. Yes, he certainly is. It's not that he's not unfamiliar with prestidigitation-type magic-- at least, that's what he's assuming this is-- it's just that he's a man who appreciates skill when he sees it. "Not right now, but I might take you up on that," he says. "Sounds like fun." And he's kind of getting the feeling that's in short supply around here.

His eyebrows loft at that wry question, then draw down again. Just as wry himself, he says only, "That sounds like capitalism, and everyone knows capitalism is exploitative bullshit."

"It is, indeed, fun - that's the entire point," Gen told him with a cheerful wink. "You'll find all sorts of people with a lot more practical, real magic - and some of it is pretty flashy! But sometimes people just need to be entertained, and I'm happy to do that."

That surprised Gen, and he allowed himself to snort out a few giggles. "Forgive me, my dear - I don't know what the economic or political climate is like in the world you came from. But I just had a dozen memes in my head talking about the, errr, shall we say fragility of late capitalism? Sometimes when you're dealing with something that's broken you just have to make fun of it."

"Real magic." He says it softly, and shakes his head. "I should be calling that ridiculous. Where I come from, it absolutely would be. Around here...?" He shakes his head again, apparently unable to articulate further. Or perhaps he just doesn't need to.

Despite Gen's giggles, though, Devero goes serious. "Late-stage capitalism destroyed the world," he says bluntly. "Probably because the people Before chose to make fun of it, instead of fixing what had become so broken."

“Around here,” Gen repeated with a sympathetic nod, “there’s lots of people who can do the real thing. And I’m pretty jealous. It took me years to perfect my acts, no wand waving needed. Ah, well. Perhaps some day someone can teach me some.”

Gen sobered a little, and shrugged, saying casually, “We had a different kind of apocalypse get to us first. I hope a lot of people in your past survived, at least?”

Devero stares at him for a moment, then barks out a harsh, almost startled laugh. Of course, where he comes from, there would be no need to ask a question like that. The Pathogen had been such a historically significant event, that extinction-level bottlenecking of all of human society and progress, that even the "backwards" communities who eschewed their place in the World Government remained scarred by it to his present day.

So very many people had died. Humanity almost hadn't survived it.

But Gen wouldn't know anything about that, would he? The knowledge that was inoculated into Devero's very core, as intrinsic to him as his bones, was just an innocent question from this stranger.

He has to turn away, covering his mouth with one hand for a moment. "No," he says finally. "They didn't."

"... Oh," Gen said, because there's being blithe and cheerful and foolish-looking - and then there's coming off as genuinely callous, which hadn't been his intention at all. That wasn't the sort of persona he was building here - not to mention, it wasn't how he felt about the matter, either.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Gen told him, with genuine sympathy. "How, err, recent, was that kind of thing, for you?"

The man's obvious sympathy helps, and Devero's able to hold and release a deep breath and turn back to him with some composure. "Thank you," he says quietly. Another breath, then, "The actual plague happened hundreds of years before-- before my time. We've managed to pull together and rebuild, but we lost so much."

Clearly, if something that happened that long ago still left a mark on Devero. But of course it did. Even though the petrification happened thousands of years ago to the people in the village, as an example, they were still affected by the fact they seemed to be the only people left, that they were surviving on their own.

"If there's one thing I've learned, my friend," Gen told him, "it's that people have an amazing ability to just survive. To adapt, to look at really long odds and decide, you know what? This is bullshit, we're going to beat this thing, even though we've got basically nothing."

He gave Devero a small smile. "And with the technology you have - you're clearly doing more than simply surviving, at that."

Devero lets out another breath and nods. "You're right," he says. "We do. We've done it. And-- you said you had an apocalypse happen too...?"

Devero touches his Interface lightly. "Oh-- well. When you go from billions of people crowding an over-stressed planet to only millions, there end up being a lot of resources to go around." He still sounds-- not somber as he says it, but at least serious. All those resources had come at tremendous cost, after all.

“I suppose so,” Gen laughed a little weakly. “There’s a tipping point I think between reducing the strain on resources and, well, not having the people around to, err. Keep the internet going.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “So, err, I realize how ridiculous this sounds to most people not just because I’ve gotten that reaction before. But because it also sounds ridiculous to me? But, uh. Long story short.”

“Everyone on my planet had turned to stone, in the reality I was taken from,” Gen told him. “Then, almost four thousand years ago, my friend finally broke out and started the slow process of unpetrifying other people.”

So Devero doesn't actually look like he finds that ridiculous. In fact, he says, "Oh! Are you from the same world as--"

The name deserts him; he's met so many people already, and taken in so much information. He glances away, focusing on what he can see in his Interface eye, pulling up his little file of makeshift public tags. He flips through them with a movement of his hand.

"--Senku, that's it."

"I am!" Gen confirmed brightly. Seemed like that bit of wearable tech was really useful to Devero, though he wondered if it was crippled a bit by not being connected to any sort of cloud. It was simply a guess, he knew how devices back in the modern day worked - but perhaps in some future they wouldn't have that limitation?

"He's the one who woke up and started to figure out how to unpetrify people," Gen shared, if Senku hadn't already. "Really, humanity's pretty lucky - he's a genius, definitely the smartest person in our reality, even counting the petrified people. Probably the smartest on this train, too! So if anyone had to be in the right place to get un-petrified, might as well be that kind genius who can reverse-engineer what happened."

Oh Gen, if only you knew. If only Devero knew, in fact. He has not yet begun to realize how crippled his Interface is going to be here, nor himself by extension.

"He mentioned that," Devero says. He'd certainly gotten the impression in their conversation that Senku was bright, fast talking and full of ideas. But how full of how many ideas, not so much. He blinks at Gen, assimilating that, and in the end says with a bit of awe, "Your world really was lucky, then, wasn't it? To have someone like him to help it?"

"Undoubtedly," Gen confirmed with a nod. "He's a genius, but he's also got a knack for seeing other people's strengths, and stepping back when someone else can excel and shine. Take our friend in our reality, who was a skilled shipwright and navigator before the petrification. Or another, who used to be a sonar technician. Or even our friend who was a fantastic chef and baker."

Gen gave Devero a genuine smile. "Plenty of people approaching Senku-chan's genius have an ego to go with it. He doesn't. He just wants to fix a problem he's happy to let someone else take the wheel if they know more. People from my reality would have been screwed if he wasn't half as smart - but they'd also be screwed if he only thought of himself."

The more Gen talks, the more Devero starts to file Senku from 'citizen' status to 'administrator' in his head. Not in the conventional bureaucratic sense, but what the position means where he comes from: orchestrator; problem-solver; burden-bearer. Leader. Someone that it's up to people like him to support and facilitate.

Good to know.

"He's really an incredible person, then, isn't he?" he says, just as genuine as Gen. "Sounds like we're just as lucky to have him here as your folks were to have him back home."

A New Platform [Intro Post December]

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