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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Exactly like that."

It's kind of odd, having the tables turned on her this much. Alice is the one usually completely unused to these machines, after all, yet here she is trying to explain it to someone else.. It's a good thing that she's been on the train for long enough at this point to understand at least the very basic functions of the ICPs.

She points at the screen, at the list of names and pictures that shows up on the screen.

"That shows everyone currently present on the train. And you can use those 'voice' and 'video' buttons to send out messages over these things." It's a surprisingly patient and calm explanation by Alice standards. But then again, now this guy is no longer shouting, he's not exactly giving her a whole lot of reasons to be unhelpful.

So the ticket does bring the machine to life, finally displaying something other than the text he found it with. Okay. Weird flex, train, but okay. Even as she talks to him, he spreads his fingers across the touch screen. His lip curls just slightly when he makes first contact, but despite the grimace he starts tapping around. He's on the hunt for network settings--

He's stuck at this list. He grunts and starts scrolling, eyes skimming over pictures and names. He pauses at himself, the name next to his little picture reading '771-Prosp0202-00745'. "Oh, what the hell," he mutters under his breath. He tries to tap through to his entry, searching for a prompt that will let him replace his EMID with his actual name.

The ICP is absolutely resistant to his attempts to use it like a computer. He looks down at her, brow furrowed. "Tell me this isn't all there is to this thing," he says. "Please."

Alice stares back at him once he turns his head to look at her rather than the screen.

For a moment she doesn't say anything, but then she slowly starts: "Do you want a nice answer or an honest answer?" And that sort of reply says just about everything he has to know, doesn't it. Nope, there is indeed no more to this thing - at least, Alice feels that whatever he is looking for, it isn't here.

She's more than a bit curious about the name, but decides to not ask just yet-- especially when there's another curiosity to distract her first.

"What were you expecting it to do? I must admit that I've never seen anything like these things before I ended up here on the train." So she has absolutely no idea what kind of abilities other people may expect out of them.

Her comment startles a laugh out of him. "I think that is my answer, thanks."

His expression sobers as he looks down at the terminal again, tapping the screen in irritation. When said tapping doesn't mysteriously produce a navigation prompt or a menu, he sighs and removes his ticket from the slot behind the screen.

"I was expecting that--" He points at the terminal "--to be able to talk to this." He points at a delicate red device perched against his left ear, screen in front of his eye. "I was expecting to be able to access the damn terminal's functions without having to touch it. I was expecting a network feed so I could get some damn information on what's going on right now."

"Generally speaking, people just ask other people about that sort of thing." What's going on, she means, as she remarks this dryly. But at least it's not like she's being entirely unhelpful here. She's anti-social enough to add, ".. but I understand that is not always the most attractive option."

By a long shot. Especially since she remembers her own first day here, and how quickly she got irritated with just about everything around her.

"If you're trying to communicate with something outside of the train though, you're entirely out of luck. No one has managed to do such a thing in all the time people have been stuck here. These things are the only network we have here."

Okay, that gets another short, sharp laugh out of him. "It's not that I mind talking to people," he says, "I just like having a document to refer back to later." What he really likes is the security of having a feed at his back, ready to supply important information and full of answers for any questions he might have.

He's frowning again soon enough, though, looking between her and the terminal. "I don't like this," he says. That communication outside the train is impossible? That the only network here is a bunch of hardwired terminals with next to no processing power?

Yes.

He shakes his head and turns his back on the infuriating machine. He turns his full attention to her now. "...What do you mean, 'all the time people have been stuck here'?"

At first Alice just stares at him.

Huh. No one really told this guy much yet, judging by what he's saying. Did he just storm onto the train and head right for the nearest terminal? What an odd fellow, she can't help but think, even though she doesn't voice it out loud.

"Exactly what those words would imply. We are all stuck here on this train. I have been for months already, but some even longer than that."

Isn't that just great news to get, right after realising these things don't communicate with anything outside of the train either.

It's fantastic news and he's absolutely thrilled. Really.

"Stuck," he repeats. "As in-- as in we can't leave?" He straightens up and his eyes find the nearest door out of the carriage-- the direction of the nearest door out of the train. "This thing hasn't disembarked yet," he says swinging his attention back to her. "What's to stop me from walking right back off before it does?"

"As in exactly that, yes."

She's quick to confirm that much, at least, though she already knows what he's going to follow up with the moment she watches the man's gaze move over towards the door like that. And indeed, the exact words she expected come right out of his mouth.

"Nothing would stop you," she replies, easily having found an answer. It's clear from her demeanour that this isn't the first time she's had this exact conversation. "But there isn't anything outside of the train, just that platform. And if you attempt to leave through the gates, you're just stopped by what seems like some invisible force."

Look, Alice doesn't have a better description when all she's seen of it is people just running face-first into it..

"But--" He looks again, as if he's expecting to see some normalcy drift in from the direction of the doors. "How can there be nothing but a platform out there? How--"

How did he come to be standing on an unfamiliar transport loading station, in alien clothes, surrounded by electromagnetic emptiness and people who don't register to his hardware-self's senses? How did he come to have a conversation with a kid who'd never even heard of an Interface, much less wore one for his to connect into? How does he have a pack full of gear on his back and a ticket with his EMID printed on it plain as day?

He puts his face into his hands for a moment. "How can I log out of this VR sim?" he mutters into his palms. To himself? To her? "I'm not having any fun."

Thankfully the word VR is one Alice does recognize. Not because of her own world though, obviously, but since she's heard people talk about the VR games in the games carriage.. So at least that makes it a little more understandable what this guy is saying. But only slightly.

Although the main sentiment behind it is clear as day all the same - he doesn't want to be here.

"Most of us feel that way." About not having much fun, that is. But she's pretty sure this man would easily find out about how others feel about being stuck here if he asked around. People here just love being loud about that sort of thing, Alice thinks. "But I can assure you that this is very real. Even I can't be convinced that it's just some hallucination anymore at this point."

And she's very, very good at hallucinating entire worlds of her own mind's making.

Her rather strange statement offers Devero a distraction from the anxiety attack that he can feel creeping up on his heart, and he seizes on it gratefully. "...What do you mean by that...?"

There's a soft 'hm?' noise, almost surprised. Like she didn't expect anyone to have any questions about her statement, no matter how cryptic it was.

At the very least it doesn't seem like she minds explaining a whole bunch.

"Why, I didn't think any of this was real when I first showed up here, of course." And it's not like she's the only one. She's met more people on the platform with rather odd reactions to this whole deal, after all. "I was certain I was hallucinating all of this. But it would be rather odd if I was making up all these people with such complex backstories from other worlds in my mind, wouldn't it? In that case, you would all disappear the moment I'd stop thinking of you."

Her tone as she speaks of all of it is.. well, rather casual. Like this line of thinking is just normal to Alice, a road she has travelled many times before.

"I'd like to think I'm a real person, and not just someone else's hallucination," he says, looking down at her with a touch of concern. "No offense meant."

A pause, and then carefully; "Do you, ah, hallucinate often, mx...?"

No offense taken, apparently, since Alice doesn't look annoyed at the statement in the slightest. She gets it, after all. That's exactly what she thought when they spoke of her just being part of some dream beyond the looking glass.

"Alice," she instead replies to the last part, "Alice Liddell." There's little harm in giving away her name when this train loves to display it everywhere.

"And yes, I do. I suppose that depending on who you'd ask, some would call me mad."

He accords her a little nod. "I'm Devero," he says, and his fingers flick through an instinctive movement that has no effect on someone without an Interface. That gives him a moment of pause, because now he has to add aloud, "Er, he/him for pronouns," which seems terribly awkward.

'Mad.' That makes him frown a little, because that sounds like one of those nasty euphemisms people Before used to persecute neurodivergent folks. "Do you feel that you're... 'mad', Alice?"

Coming from the time and place as she does - even if she would have the social experience she lacks on top of it - the addition he's giving her makes Alice stop and stare for a moment. Like she's not too sure what he's saying. But the gaze in her eyes seems to be more curiosity than anything else, since there's absolutely no protest to it. She just takes it in, like she's mentally noting it.

Although she's definitely forgetting that maybe she should say the same in return, especially when she's promptly distracted by that question.

It's a slightly difficult one these days, after all. Even to someone who is still pretty much a stranger, she still wants to make sure to give the right answer to that question that does justice to her feelings on the matter.

"I.. believe I am different from other people," she carefully explains. "That I don't experience things the way others do. That I see things that aren't actually there."

Devero listens to her answer, quiet and attentive. And when she's done, he offers quietly, "We have a word for people who feel the way you do where I come from. Neurodivergent."

For that's all it must be, right? It hasn't even occurred to Devero that her "madness" might be more than the mundane quirks of neurochemistry he's assuming it is.

Edited 2020-12-23 02:17 (UTC)

"Neurodivergent."

She repeats the word, like she's trying it out. Usually she'd assume it's some sort of insult - they do have a lot of words for people who feel the way she does where she comes from, after all, and none of them good - but the way he says it doesn't quite match that idea.

Which is odd. Alice isn't used to people like her being treated with anything other than ridicule or unkindness.

"Are these neurodivergent people locked away in asylums where you come from as well?"

His face twists. That term is even more Before than "mad" and he clearly finds it distasteful. "Of course not," he says. "We're not barbarians."

.. Barbarians. Sure, Alice would agree that it's a good term for the kind of things they did in there - if anything, it's too mild - but it had been treated as something so normal back in her own world that it's almost odd to see someone have such a strong negative reaction to it.

"It's what they do with people like me. Where I'm from," she slowly explains. Not saying the implication out loud, but it's hanging heavily in the air - that's what happened to her. "Though.. It is good to hear that there are places where they have grown out of doing such things. No one deserves to go through that kind of thing."

The implication hangs there, and Devero is not a stupid man. He looks down at her, such a fragile-looking thing, and all he can think is how unnecessary. How cruel.

He offers a hand out, as if to give her shoulder a squeeze, but the motion clearly choreographed so that she can accept or reject the gesture as she wishes. "You're right," he says as he does so. "No one deserves that at all."

All things said, she does look a little hesitant about the gesture. Alice is so bad at physical touch. But it's not like he'd be the first person to try in this place, and at the very least it seems like he has no intentions other than positive ones behind it.

So after a moment of clear contemplation moving across her face, she doesn't move out of the way - as if accepting the touch, just letting it come down on her shoulder. Allowing that moment of physical contact is a good test anyway, she thinks, to see if he's really full of good intentions in the first place or not.

"And yet it happens," she answers, her gaze sliding off to the side.

Because even though she may have gotten out of there after years and years, she knows there are still plenty of people left to suffer in there. That more people will only end up being dragged to that place.

His big hand lights on her shoulder and he squeezes gently. Where he comes from, this supportive, comradely gesture is common-- and brief. He does back up a little as he lets go, because he did see her actively thinking about letting him do it.

"I'm sorry," he tells her. "Cruelty like that is more common than it has any right to be." He hesitates for a moment, not wanting to overstep bounds, but ultimately offers, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"What an odd question," is her immediate response.

But it's not biting. Alice can be harsh when she chooses to be, but this reaction is born more out of surprise than any kind of annoyance. She's just too unused to help being offered so readily, doesn't know what to do with it in any way that doesn't seem ridiculous. So the way she says it - it sounds more like she's thinking than anything else. Like she's trying to figure out what to even say to that.

"Not being cruel to others would be a start, but it seems that you've already got that down."

Especially since Devero did seem unkind at first, but the way he actually apologized for his impulsive behaviour is exactly what makes him kind. It's more than most people would do, as far as Alice sees it.

A New Platform [Intro Post December]

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cw: asylum talk

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