The Patreon Letters - July 15, 2017 (Patreon)

Hey everyone, it's Jackson here with another Patreon letter, hope you've all been well. Here are The Updates:

• This week, we released a Beginner Friendly episode of Second Officer Slog, watching a couple of TNG episodes and reading the book Imzadi by Peter David. If you've got a more casual relationship with Star Trek and the DS9 Relaunch Series is a little too deep for you, then this is an episode you should check out! It's really good!
• The Second Stage Turbine Blade comes to an end in this week's episode of The Amory Score. We've enjoyed doing this podcast a lot, and the story of the first album has been a ridiculous journey. Tomorrow we're recording a final SSTB episode with M as a kind of wrap-up before tackling the next album. If you have any Amory Score questions or takes, this is the time to send them to podcast@abnormalmapping.com, because this is the week we're going to take them.
• NEW GOOF ZONE!! Me and Destiny catch up, have a good laugh, talk a bit about sleep and answer your mental health questions.
• Meta Mapping this month is the episode The King and W, an episode where we interview Bowser and Wario. It's great, if you've never listened you should check it out.
• You have ONE MORE DAY!!! to suggest games for august, the poll is going to be put up some point tomorrow, so if there are games you want us to play, feel free to add them to the list.
• M's Life is Strange LP is still going strong, it's a very chill playthrough of that game, if you've been interested in Life is Strange but have never played it yourself this is a real good way to experience it.

Okay! That is it for the updates. This week I've been really struggling to find something to write about, and I thought I'd try something different and so I've written a short story about being scared a kid on a spaceship caught up in the middle of another, bigger story. 

If people like it I might write more fiction in these letters, maybe give myself more prep time and write something more substantial for you all. It'd be fun, a nice alternative to What I Thought Of Videogame. Anyway, this one is a test that I wrote over the last couple days when I settled on this as the idea. I hope you enjoy.

The Supervisor

Every morning, at six-fifteen, the lights begin to hum, and by six-thirty, they are at full power. I lie in bed and focus my gaze at the slit under the door, watching as the darkness is slowly forced to retreat, and I wait for the sound of footsteps. If I’m lucky, I hear the family next door leave their room, open my door, and head with them to get breakfast. Today, obviously, I am not in any way lucky, and can already hear the supervisor walking down the corridor.

It’s always easy to tell when the supervisor is coming. Unlike everyone else on this ship, who rotate through the same items of comfortable clothing they get to keep in their room, he wears a uniform, which means boots. The corridors have only a thin layer of carpet over the metal construction, so he announces every step with this strange faded clang. I don’t mean to make him sound scary, nobody here talks badly of him, he’s probably really nice! But I can’t let him find me.

So I lie in bed, and I hold my breath. On a day like today, if next door haven’t co-operated, I wait for him to walk past, stopping every so often to call out to the ship that it’s “time to wake up, breakfast is served!” When he’s far enough past, I open the door alone, and walk briskly to the hall, hoping nobody will stop me and ask me where my parents are. I keep listening, focusing on his footsteps through the casual chatter of the others who have began to emerge, but his voice never comes. In fact, he’s stopping every few seconds. 

He’s knocking on every door. Of course he is.

My chest immediately tightens and my breathing rockets, so I remind myself of a few basic facts in order to calm down. Fact one: nobody else is in this room. The rooms on this ship have four beds and four small wardrobes, most of them occupied by families or people who have chosen to room together. I chose here as my place to sleep because for some reason, it’s empty. If this room isn’t occupied, there’s no reason to believe he would even knock. He might just walk right on by.

Knock knock. Someone a few doors down opens the door, and he says something short before moving on.

Fact two: nobody is looking for me. I’ve been good about hiding, the people who do know that I’m here all think I’m supposed to be. Maybe he opens the door, maybe he peers in, maybe he even turns the light on. But if I keep still under the covers, he’s not going to notice. He’s not going to see anything he isn’t looking for.

Knock knock. A kid next door opens. The older one, Charlie, always shares his chocolate bars with me. Asks the supervisor what’s happening. “You should probably head to the hall sharpish, there’s an announcement.”

Fact three: this isn’t my fault. I’ve not done any--

Knock knock.

I hold my breath. Keep as still as can be. I close my eyes, for all the good it can do.

Knock Knock. Again. 

I stay silent, I stay still. After a moment, I hear him fiddling with something. A key turns in an outside lock I didn’t know the door had. And it opens.

“Huh.” He turns around to a man walking past, “is anyone usually in room 406?” The man just shrugs and continues on his way. 

“Alright,” he says, closing the door, and I allow myself a moment to breathe as he starts muttering to himesl “I only run the damn ship, I don’t actually know anyt--”

“Where’s Sarah?” Charlie asks, and my entire body sinks. Thanks a bunch. The supervisor stops closing the door, holds it steady. “Has she already left?”

“Who’s Sarah?”

Go. I shove the door open, knocking the supervisor off balance and sprint down the corridor. I turn right the first chance that I get, and start relying on the ship layout I memorised being correct. In the distance, I hear the supervisor sigh, and ask, “is that Sarah?”

I follow the turns in my head, and eventually the crowd thins and the corridors are empty. I slow to a brisk walk, because I’m far more suspicious running than not, and come to the door that I’ve been looking for. The engine room. I stand on my tip-toes to reach the bolt at the top, while using my other hand to grab the handle. After a moment of struggle, the door opens, and I’m in.

The door shuts, and I just collapse. Shit. Shit, shit shit. This wasn’t meant to happen. Why did he have to start knocking? Why did Charlie have to say something? Why did I run? I’m wiping my tears with clenched fists. I can’t help but laugh.

As the laugh passes, something dawns on me: this room isn’t as dark as I thought. I look at the ceiling and can’t see any lights, but I can definitely see. There’s rows and rows of machines all around me, basking in some faint glow coming from-- something. I let out a strained breath, push myeslf back onto to my feet, and start walking towards it. As I get deeper, pass through each row of machinery, the glow goes from faint, to bright, to almost overwhelming. Beneath glass, a perfect sphere, crackling with brilliant white energy. And beneath the sphere is an equally brilliant darkness, stretching forever, carpeted in lights of its own. I can see the stars.

“Yeah, don’t look at that, you’ll ruin your eyes.”

Shit! I jump out of my skin as of course, standing behind me, is the Supervisor. I’ve never seen him this close before. His uniform is old, fraying around the edges, fitting just a little too tight. His hand is outstretched, so I look to his face to see if he wants me to take it or if he’s beckoning. And I can’t tell. Because even though he’s smiling, and I know he’s looking directly at me, I can’t read him through the black band he wears over his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says and waves me over. I walk towards him, blinking every step, getting myself used to regular light again. In silence, he leads me out into the corridors, and to his office, a small room with one desk, two chairs and absolutely nothing else. “Sit down.”

I don’t, instead opting to blurt out-- “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Okay,” he says, sighing in relief as he unbuttons his jacket and takes his own seat. “How old are you, Sarah?”

“I’m eleven,” I say, still standing.

“Sorry,” he says. I wait for him to explain, but he just kind of sits there, thinking. I take my seat.

“When I was your age, I lived with my mum and my dad by this river that came down from a big old mountain. I haven’t been there, seen either of them, in like thirty odd years. They’re still alive. But. You know.” He pauses, and for a moment I can swear I feel him looking into my eyes through his band, “why did you run?”

“I was scared.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know,” I say a little too forcefully, and he smiles.

He flicks up a portion of the desk to reveal a small screen, and taps it a couple times. “There’s only three Sarahs on this ship, specifically, and none of them are you. But I did some digging and managed work out who you are and why you’re here.” He turns the screen to face me, and instantly I feel myself tearing up again. It’s mum. She’s okay.

“Can I see her?”

The supervisor shakes his head, “she’s on another ship. But we’ll let her know that you’re alright.” He reaches out his hand and rests it on my arm, trying to calm me. “How did you get onboard?”

I tell him. I tell him all about the day the whole village gathered together and said we had to leave. I tell him that I didn’t understand why. I tell him that I refused. I tell him how, while we were all waiting to be processed, in a show of defiance I broke away from my mum, from the others, but just ended up in another crowd that led me onto this ship. I tell him I just want to go home.

“So do I,” he says, and he walks round his desk, and pulls me in for my first hug in months. I stop fighting it, and let it all go. I wonder if I’ll ever stop crying.

“Look at me,” he says after an eternity, kneeling, so we’re at eye level. 

I do, and ever so slowly, he brings his hands up to his temples, and starts to lift the black band, revealing two tightly shut eyes, and when his hand is clear, opens them. His eyes aren’t eyes at all, and looking back at me are instead two glowing sparks, a brilliant white energy, as if he has a star inside him, coursing through his veins.

“Are you--?” I ask, and he nods. 

“Your home was... dying,” he said, “we saved you. And that’s a cruel thing to do to any child.”

He stood up, and pulled the black band down again, walking over to the other side of his desk. “We’ll get you an actual room, alright. It’s a long journey and you don’t need to spend it-- doing whatever it was you were doing.”

I nod, but I’m not listening anymore. I’m counting the stains on the carpet, I’m scratching my leg, and I’m so so hungry. Without even looking at him, I say “Where are we going?”

Without looking back, he says, “somewhere better.”