ALSO EDITED:
:P
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Concept,
Troubleshoot
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The name's Bliss.
It's been a while.
Hopefully we can be friends.
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Closed for now! Thanks for stopping by. PM me if you have any words. (:
Bliss
Bliss
Finally posted! I wrote with the assumption that the Meds had been dispensed prior to her waking/without her knowledge. If that isn't correct, I'll go back and edit!
It's going to be tense and delicious. Cannot wait!
Teknopathetic said
Soon we will have the ever-entertaining confusion of character to character interaction. Hopefully no immediate deaths.
It's going to be tense and delicious. Cannot wait!
At first, Amelie's curiosity was met with… Well, a great, steaming pile of nothing. The medbay was just as empty and sinister as it had seemed when she woke up, save the steady robotic noises that was still (slooowly) coming her way. Hell, those were pretty creepy, too, if she was being honest with herself. It could only be so long until the comfort that the examination room had given her would wear off, and then who knew how deep the ghostly chill of the atmosphere would settle into her skin?
God... She would have preferred wading through her boggy mind for a few more hours over the next few minutes of needling suspense. Her hazel orbs darted to and from every corner, straining to see who - or what - her newest companion would be. Somewhere, in an alternate reality where cartoons were given a four dimensional playground, they would have been throbbing out of their sockets, for sure.
Finally, she was granted contact; though the red-head couldn't help but be a little disappointed after the initial wave of shock had subsided. Whether it would have been better to see a human or this very peculiar apparatus, she will never know. But as undeniable as the color of her hair, there it was again; the bizarre affinity, this time directed towards it. "It" being the ugly eight-legged creature, mounted on tread tracks and sporting pincers that quite obviously did not originally belong, rolling into her line of sight at what seemed like two miles per hour.
“Designate: AM-5. Designate: AM-5.” The spider-droid-thing kept addressing her, amusingly reminiscent of some child looking for its mother. Its vocal programming could have simply been stuck in a loop, which was even creepier than its earlier sounds; yet the more pressing issue was why it had her designation in its record in the first place? The technician was certain of one thing, however; its automated voice basically shattered the silence that had been clogging her ears, and though its purpose with her was still unclear, she was thankful for it.
When it shuddered to a halt before her, an internal war that lasted all of a few seconds determined that Amelie was to take a cautious step forward from cover, somehow trusting her original impulse that this place, and everything in it, was safe - for her, at least. She watched, still clutching her tech-pad to her green jumpsuit, as the robot surveyed her slender frame, as if confirming that she was, indeed, AM-5.
“Designate: AM-5. Entered MEDBAY for PANIC ATTACK leading to LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. Diagnosis: REQUIRES PRESCRIBED INJECTION PERIOD. Medication has been dispensed. You are safe. There is no need for panic. Do you require additional help?”
A shaky inhale, while a hand pushed some of her hair back behind her ears. Her eyebrows had resumed their furrowed position as she swallowed what her nurse-bot had just prattled out, trying to sift through the information. So she had been entered into the medbay for loss of consciousness… But due to a panic attack caused by what? The bot had also mentioned that the prescribed injection for the attack had been dispensed, but... She didn't feel any calmer? Then again, she couldn't have known anything other than how she had been feeling since her isolation in the room... Dammit. Once more Amelie was hit with the frustration of memory loss. Perhaps she would have otherwise been bouncing off the walls with hysteria? Who knew? Certainly not her.
Even with the couple of answers the arachnoid provided, the woman was more confused than she had been before the freakin' thing dropped by. Determined to find out more about her current situation, the woman pushed her confusion to the side and cleared her throat to prep it for use, then anticlimactically proceeded to merely open and close her mouth several times. Suddenly it was like she was afraid of making noise herself, as if hearing her own voice would make this nightmare even more real than it already was. Though the automaton's reassurance of her being safe wasn't much to go on, she clung onto the consolation like it was her pad.
Eventually, she mentally kicked herself in the ass and tried again, clearing her throat while the blinking green lights awaited her response. "Uh…" What to say what to say… There were so many questions whizzing through her mind that she was having a hard time landing on one to spit out. Ultimately, she decided on the one that would probably lead to more explanations in the long run. "Um, do you… Ah.. Where is everyone?" It came out rather lamely, for which the technician compensated with another clearing of her throat. She wasn't entirely sure if the robot would give her a satisfying answer, but it was worth a shot. If she could just find others, they would surely explain to her what in the hell was going on.
God... She would have preferred wading through her boggy mind for a few more hours over the next few minutes of needling suspense. Her hazel orbs darted to and from every corner, straining to see who - or what - her newest companion would be. Somewhere, in an alternate reality where cartoons were given a four dimensional playground, they would have been throbbing out of their sockets, for sure.
Finally, she was granted contact; though the red-head couldn't help but be a little disappointed after the initial wave of shock had subsided. Whether it would have been better to see a human or this very peculiar apparatus, she will never know. But as undeniable as the color of her hair, there it was again; the bizarre affinity, this time directed towards it. "It" being the ugly eight-legged creature, mounted on tread tracks and sporting pincers that quite obviously did not originally belong, rolling into her line of sight at what seemed like two miles per hour.
“Designate: AM-5. Designate: AM-5.” The spider-droid-thing kept addressing her, amusingly reminiscent of some child looking for its mother. Its vocal programming could have simply been stuck in a loop, which was even creepier than its earlier sounds; yet the more pressing issue was why it had her designation in its record in the first place? The technician was certain of one thing, however; its automated voice basically shattered the silence that had been clogging her ears, and though its purpose with her was still unclear, she was thankful for it.
When it shuddered to a halt before her, an internal war that lasted all of a few seconds determined that Amelie was to take a cautious step forward from cover, somehow trusting her original impulse that this place, and everything in it, was safe - for her, at least. She watched, still clutching her tech-pad to her green jumpsuit, as the robot surveyed her slender frame, as if confirming that she was, indeed, AM-5.
“Designate: AM-5. Entered MEDBAY for PANIC ATTACK leading to LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. Diagnosis: REQUIRES PRESCRIBED INJECTION PERIOD. Medication has been dispensed. You are safe. There is no need for panic. Do you require additional help?”
A shaky inhale, while a hand pushed some of her hair back behind her ears. Her eyebrows had resumed their furrowed position as she swallowed what her nurse-bot had just prattled out, trying to sift through the information. So she had been entered into the medbay for loss of consciousness… But due to a panic attack caused by what? The bot had also mentioned that the prescribed injection for the attack had been dispensed, but... She didn't feel any calmer? Then again, she couldn't have known anything other than how she had been feeling since her isolation in the room... Dammit. Once more Amelie was hit with the frustration of memory loss. Perhaps she would have otherwise been bouncing off the walls with hysteria? Who knew? Certainly not her.
Even with the couple of answers the arachnoid provided, the woman was more confused than she had been before the freakin' thing dropped by. Determined to find out more about her current situation, the woman pushed her confusion to the side and cleared her throat to prep it for use, then anticlimactically proceeded to merely open and close her mouth several times. Suddenly it was like she was afraid of making noise herself, as if hearing her own voice would make this nightmare even more real than it already was. Though the automaton's reassurance of her being safe wasn't much to go on, she clung onto the consolation like it was her pad.
Eventually, she mentally kicked herself in the ass and tried again, clearing her throat while the blinking green lights awaited her response. "Uh…" What to say what to say… There were so many questions whizzing through her mind that she was having a hard time landing on one to spit out. Ultimately, she decided on the one that would probably lead to more explanations in the long run. "Um, do you… Ah.. Where is everyone?" It came out rather lamely, for which the technician compensated with another clearing of her throat. She wasn't entirely sure if the robot would give her a satisfying answer, but it was worth a shot. If she could just find others, they would surely explain to her what in the hell was going on.
Teknopathetic said
I will not at all use this information against you at a later date. Not even a little bit.
Cue Bliss squirming in her seat..
Also, apologies for not getting a post in yet! Had exams all day. I'll try and get it in by tomorrow night.
Teknopathetic said
Thousand years dungeon. No trial.
Aaaadventure Time! … Or not.
Ugh it's strange because I actually hate spiders in real life. Hopefully I can get a post up tonight!
Great posts all around! Now we can proceed with really creeping Bliss out, yay!
Haha! I know that feeling. It's just terrible.
Teknopathetic said
I have worked up a seething hatred for humanity to channel into my writing by restringing a guitar.
That failed. I only hate guitars now.
Haha! I know that feeling. It's just terrible.
All done! I didn't think Amelie would be so skittish but alas!
Oh, man, you don't have to tell me twice. I only had one written exam last semester, it was great.
Teknopathetic said
That's actually fairly interesting. I did dramatic/comedic interpretation in high school but never really had a chance in college. I'd prefer performing scenes to a written final or gargantuan busywork reports, that much I can tell you.
Oh, man, you don't have to tell me twice. I only had one written exam last semester, it was great.
“...but just meet me in the medbay, alright? Like always.” A soft, distant voice. Vaguely feminine, but it's hard to tell. “We'll get it for you…”
…Get what? Who's "we"?
It came to her like a piece of driftwood wandering close in a body of water; except for her, the water was something more akin to quicksand. Her mind seemed to be blanketed by a heavy haze as blurs of images and sensations floated through it, making it impossible to navigate through her thoughts. The only ones that stood still long enough for her to comprehend were ones that described her on the most basic level. At least, she assumed they were about her.
My name is Amelie.
I am a technician on Station C-9.
I am also very, very human.
Under different circumstances, the female might have thought the last of her three defining facts funny. Of course, she was human; what else would she be? But at the moment, she merely accepted it without question. With what little consciousness she had, she simply wondered why that was the memory that had chosen to come forward from the mass. Was it even a memory? Now she wasn't so sure… The longer she lingered on the whole thing, the further out of her grasp it went, until suddenly everything receded once more, returning her to the state she had been in before the voice.
A few moments - or minutes, or hours - after she had gone under again, she slowly began to resurface, registering the illumination that was creeping in around the corners of the darkness. Like a dial being turned up, her surroundings became clearer and clearer, and soon she was blinking against the bright lights of the examination room. The young woman furrowed her brow as her gaze roamed the scenery, feeling as if she had some inexplicable affinity for the place. Despite the uneasiness that was slowly beginning to bubble up in her gut from due to some unknown factor, the setting was enough to appease her nerves for now. This was strange, seeing as she didn't recall ever having been there before. But even as she made a slight movement, and the tissue paper that covered the steel observation table she was sitting on crinkled in response, she couldn't help but recognize, and even appreciate, the sound.
Strands of her dark copper-red hair fell forward around her face as she glanced down at her perch, confused as to why she felt so comfortable on it. The space between her eyebrows lessened as she tried to remember why, tried to recall what this place had meant to her. And then, an even more troubling realization: she had absolutely no memory beyond waking up on the table.
Her heart rate instantly quickened as her head snapped back up, growing frantic as she hopped off the table but kept her back pressed against its edge as if it were a life line. Suddenly she was struck with the strangest urge to sic her nails on her forearm, but when she pulled back the forest green sleeve of her jumpsuit, she found that a bandage had already been placed there. Swallowing the lump that had developed in her throat, Amelie took deep inhales through her nostrils, attempting to soothe her anxiety by telling herself she might have just fainted and was sent to the medbay to recover. Perhaps her memories would come back to her later... But somehow the technician doubted it.
Eventually her her eyes fell on her tech-pad, which lay on the table among scattered syringes and empty vials. With careful steps, as if she thought she would collapse at any moment, Amelie went to retrieve the device, touching a finger to the screen to wake it up. The robotic voice greeted her with her designation, and she emitted a little sigh, almost as if by habit. But when the greeting was finished, and only silence reached her ears, it dawned on her what the cause of her uneasiness really was. She turned around to face the doorway and padded towards it hesitantly to find… Nothing. No one.
Amelie strained her eyes and ears to catch some distant sign of movement, and got her wish in the form of a groaning pipe that startled her back a few steps. It was so odd, and even somewhat eerie, to think that the bay was silent, when normally it was buzzing with life. Another little panic attack, during which Amelie was semi-convinced that a crisis had occurred while she was unconscious, and everyone had evacuated and forgotten about her. But her cremates wouldn't have left her. She was sure of it.
So what the hell was going on? As if in reply, she heard a noise, different from the groaning or creaking of the pipes. Whirring and rattling, coming from somewhere outside of her safe room. This, too, was a familiar noise, but still, Amelie couldn't help but be a little afraid. Knowing she couldn't stay in place forever, the female hugged the pad to her chest and tip-toed to the doorway. Bending at the waist, she peeked out into the wide-open bay that was completely void of any people, her heart rate picking up once again as the noise got closer and closer.
…Get what? Who's "we"?
It came to her like a piece of driftwood wandering close in a body of water; except for her, the water was something more akin to quicksand. Her mind seemed to be blanketed by a heavy haze as blurs of images and sensations floated through it, making it impossible to navigate through her thoughts. The only ones that stood still long enough for her to comprehend were ones that described her on the most basic level. At least, she assumed they were about her.
My name is Amelie.
I am a technician on Station C-9.
I am also very, very human.
Under different circumstances, the female might have thought the last of her three defining facts funny. Of course, she was human; what else would she be? But at the moment, she merely accepted it without question. With what little consciousness she had, she simply wondered why that was the memory that had chosen to come forward from the mass. Was it even a memory? Now she wasn't so sure… The longer she lingered on the whole thing, the further out of her grasp it went, until suddenly everything receded once more, returning her to the state she had been in before the voice.
A few moments - or minutes, or hours - after she had gone under again, she slowly began to resurface, registering the illumination that was creeping in around the corners of the darkness. Like a dial being turned up, her surroundings became clearer and clearer, and soon she was blinking against the bright lights of the examination room. The young woman furrowed her brow as her gaze roamed the scenery, feeling as if she had some inexplicable affinity for the place. Despite the uneasiness that was slowly beginning to bubble up in her gut from due to some unknown factor, the setting was enough to appease her nerves for now. This was strange, seeing as she didn't recall ever having been there before. But even as she made a slight movement, and the tissue paper that covered the steel observation table she was sitting on crinkled in response, she couldn't help but recognize, and even appreciate, the sound.
Strands of her dark copper-red hair fell forward around her face as she glanced down at her perch, confused as to why she felt so comfortable on it. The space between her eyebrows lessened as she tried to remember why, tried to recall what this place had meant to her. And then, an even more troubling realization: she had absolutely no memory beyond waking up on the table.
Her heart rate instantly quickened as her head snapped back up, growing frantic as she hopped off the table but kept her back pressed against its edge as if it were a life line. Suddenly she was struck with the strangest urge to sic her nails on her forearm, but when she pulled back the forest green sleeve of her jumpsuit, she found that a bandage had already been placed there. Swallowing the lump that had developed in her throat, Amelie took deep inhales through her nostrils, attempting to soothe her anxiety by telling herself she might have just fainted and was sent to the medbay to recover. Perhaps her memories would come back to her later... But somehow the technician doubted it.
Eventually her her eyes fell on her tech-pad, which lay on the table among scattered syringes and empty vials. With careful steps, as if she thought she would collapse at any moment, Amelie went to retrieve the device, touching a finger to the screen to wake it up. The robotic voice greeted her with her designation, and she emitted a little sigh, almost as if by habit. But when the greeting was finished, and only silence reached her ears, it dawned on her what the cause of her uneasiness really was. She turned around to face the doorway and padded towards it hesitantly to find… Nothing. No one.
Amelie strained her eyes and ears to catch some distant sign of movement, and got her wish in the form of a groaning pipe that startled her back a few steps. It was so odd, and even somewhat eerie, to think that the bay was silent, when normally it was buzzing with life. Another little panic attack, during which Amelie was semi-convinced that a crisis had occurred while she was unconscious, and everyone had evacuated and forgotten about her. But her cremates wouldn't have left her. She was sure of it.
So what the hell was going on? As if in reply, she heard a noise, different from the groaning or creaking of the pipes. Whirring and rattling, coming from somewhere outside of her safe room. This, too, was a familiar noise, but still, Amelie couldn't help but be a little afraid. Knowing she couldn't stay in place forever, the female hugged the pad to her chest and tip-toed to the doorway. Bending at the waist, she peeked out into the wide-open bay that was completely void of any people, her heart rate picking up once again as the noise got closer and closer.
Teknopathetic said
@corneredbliss: Oh! I thought you might be taking part in a play or some such. Although I suppose a play for a class still counts!
Well, it's not really a play for the class. I'm an Acting major, so instead of written finals, we have to perform scenes, etc. That's all!
And a quick (perhaps silly) question for clarification as I write my post: When Amelie blacks out again, does she no longer remember her name? Or are would she have retained those few facts when she woke up?
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