You're in a cavernous underground room. You understand that it is the basement of your lab in Oregon, even though when you wake up you will realize that your basement looked different.
Near the wall is an enormous inert machine. It is a great big ring thirty feet across, propped up vertically by a supporting stand, but it's unfinished: its wiring is still exposed. You're getting close, though, you know it. You stand before it, looking at your work, and your six-fingered hand strokes your chin -- clean-shaven.
Then, a seamless change occurs. You don't know when the walls stopped being stone, but they're gone now: the space stretches out into a star-field, like being inside the night sky. The larger objects in the room transform into shapes rendered in blue criss-crossed lines, and vanish; the small ones simply float in the air. Pens, paper, journals, a tea set, a tape player, chess pieces. The portal remains, suspended in the air, but the parts that are incomplete are filled in, outlined in those same blue grid-lines, like a model or a hologram. It's going to be so impressive when it's finished.
"SURE IT IS! AFTER ALL, YOU AND I MADE IT! RIGHT, PAL?"
You feel yourself smile. It's him.
"Hello, Bill," you say, and your voice is deep -- of course it is, it has been since it broke. You're thrilled he's here: you're always eager for him to visit. (Are you? You feel like you've had some bad dreams about him, but they feel fuzzy and far away.) The usual warmth breaks over your mind like rays of sunlight, and you let it. You have nothing to hide, not from him. You're partners. He is a being of infinite knowledge, older than you can imagine, and he picked you. He makes you, a freak, feel extraordinary. Together, you're going to change the world.
(Wait. Something about that feels off. Why, when you think about changing the world, do flashes of smoke and destruction rise in your mind?)
He puts a small black hand on your shoulder, and your half-formed doubts disappear. It's extended to rest on your opposite shoulder -- his arm is around your back. You try not to think about it. "THAT'S RIGHT! THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY WON'T KNOW WHAT HIT 'EM."
You know. You have dreams. You're going to rub elbows with scientific leaders, politicians, celebrities, childhood idols. You're going to know why the world is so weird, and you're going to show everyone the truth. You'll be....maybe not a hero, but a scientific pioneer. A Prometheus.
Bill hands you a blocky, very heavy laptop that says PROPERTY OF F across the top. "THIS IS WHERE THE ANSWERS ARE." On the screen is a rotating shadow of a four-dimensional shape, what might be an extrapolation of a sphere. Information about it seeps from Bill's mind into yours, without him having to tell you: it is a weird and wild place where anything is possible, where mind controls matter, where everything came from.
"DON'T YOU WANT TO KNOW?"
Of course you do. This is important. This project is going to change your life. You feel a little bit unaccountably sad. You feel like you're going to lose something, someone, if you go through with this. But Bill is here with you, shining into your mind, always a reflective surface of cheer and determination and relentless energy. You can't see any deeper into his mind, and you feel it might be rude to try. You are happy to let him look at yours: if he is a mirror, you are a window, letting the light in. He's still holding your shoulder. You can feel the warmth through your shirt. You hope he didn't see you noticing. The dream fades out. The last things to disappear are the sensation of touch and the rotating image on the laptop, and then it's gone.
[Luke awakes in the middle of the night, disoriented, partly because it takes him awhile to realize it's not his dream. He knows Bill, after all, could very well have dreamed about him himself, so in his hazy mind he wonders briefly if there's something he's forgotten, something he needs to address about their relationship.
But though some details fade, others come into focus, and Luke realizes it's Ford. And he feels a pang of borrowed betrayal. And mostly, sadness. For both of them.
But waits until morning to make the call, scrubs his eyes free from sleep and tries to hail Ford. He offers a slight, reassuring smile but doesn't beat around the bush.]
Ford. Hey. I think I ... borrowed one of your dreams, last night. I wanted to let you know that.
I don't know about other people--but I've had some weird ones. [Luke sighs.] Bill was there. And this... machine? Like a hologram, or a wormhole, or a... hologram of a wormhole? And Bill--
[Luke's mouth snaps shut for a moment.]
Maybe it's not yours. I don't know. I don't think it's mine. But it felt personal, and we don't have to talk about it, but if you wanted... we can.
Ford's eyes go wide, very wide indeed. The details of that particular dream are fuzzy -- impressions, mostly -- but it's a dream he wouldn't want anyone to witness. He looks worried a moment, like he's casting about for something to say, then clears his throat.]
Oh.
Well. Yes, I think it's for the best if we don't discuss that dream at all. Ha ha, it's a shame! If it had been the one about the Mothman, I'd have told you all about that!
[It's jovial, and very much a diversion toward a subject Ford is more willing to talk about.]
[Luke is silent for a moment, biting his lip gently as he thinks.]
Look, Ford, I don't want to pry into your privacy. I get that there's... history, here. And I didn't go looking for this, I hope you know that. But... at some point, you're going to have to talk about it. With someone.
[He looks up, as if to imply that he, the guy who knows Bill and has gone through his own share of heartache and betrayal and is infamous for not taking things personally, might be someone.]
Come on, Luke. There's nothing to talk about! All you saw was a series of electrical impulses generated by a sleeping brain that my sensory cortex turned into recognizable patterns. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental.
[Ford grimaces, and his eyes dart off to the side.
It's embarrassment. The expression on Ford's face is anxious embarrassment.]
I've already said all there is to say about it. I was a fool, and he tricked me -- played on my ambition, made me mistrust my friends. It was the worst mistake of my life.
I've told my family all about it and wrote it out in the third journal. Isn't that enough?
[Ford opens his mouth, but it's not clear if he's about to say of course or of course not!
A pause. Then, more quietly:]
I'm...trying to be.
I'll never forget what he did, to me and my family. I'll certainly never forgive him! But, for the sake of the progress he's made, I've tried to move past it. To not let it get in the way.
[He looks at Luke and gives a shrug. Sincerely and without malice, he asks:]
What good will it do here?
[Dragging up old grudges over a ruined life -- ruined lives -- isn't going to help anyone.]
I do appreciate that. [Luke is utterly sincere--he's impressed, actually, with how civil Ford's been.] But right now, I'm not even talking about the benefit to Bill. I'm talking about something that bothers you so much that you want to deny it happened. I'm talking about how it might benefit you to... to have someone else understand.
[He leans back, flushing slightly.]
Then again, I don't have a choice about having my secrets broadcast to everyone, so maybe I shouldn't talk.
[Ford gives a sigh, the kind of resigned-but-slightly-apologetic sigh that means he knows it's not Luke's fault.]
I know. It's not your fault.
It's this darn Barge, letting you think it's safe to dream behind an access filter and then ripping out the rug from under you as soon as the right flood hits.
[Luke nods and signs off, smiling slightly because the word 'coffee' is still funny and cutesy to him, but he sobers soon enough when he reflects on the dream. And, even more, Ford's response. He's sorry he pried, however inadvertent, but now that he knows, he's pretty sure there's something here other than Ford being chagrined over past errors.
But he won't say any of that, at least not right off the bat. Instead, he'll head to Ford's room, which he's been meaning to do anyway for awhile, what with everything they've been through.]
Thanks, [he'll say when Ford opens the door and lets him in.] I guess eventually I need to learn how to make the stuff.
I could put together one of your own, if you like.
[The machine Ford pulls a coffeepot out from under is...homemade. It's blocky and has blinky dials and a LCD clock. It certainly does the trick of heating water and sending it through grounds and a coffee filter, and unlike, say, a french press, this one has a timer.
He pours two mugs of steaming caffienated bean water and passes one to Luke.]
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neverjoinyou) wrote2026-04-05 02:51 pm![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lastvoyages IC Inbox
Tread Softly event, dreamed on January 19th, Barge-time
Near the wall is an enormous inert machine. It is a great big ring thirty feet across, propped up vertically by a supporting stand, but it's unfinished: its wiring is still exposed. You're getting close, though, you know it. You stand before it, looking at your work, and your six-fingered hand strokes your chin -- clean-shaven.
Then, a seamless change occurs. You don't know when the walls stopped being stone, but they're gone now: the space stretches out into a star-field, like being inside the night sky. The larger objects in the room transform into shapes rendered in blue criss-crossed lines, and vanish; the small ones simply float in the air. Pens, paper, journals, a tea set, a tape player, chess pieces. The portal remains, suspended in the air, but the parts that are incomplete are filled in, outlined in those same blue grid-lines, like a model or a hologram. It's going to be so impressive when it's finished.
"SURE IT IS! AFTER ALL, YOU AND I MADE IT! RIGHT, PAL?"
You feel yourself smile. It's him.
"Hello, Bill," you say, and your voice is deep -- of course it is, it has been since it broke. You're thrilled he's here: you're always eager for him to visit. (Are you? You feel like you've had some bad dreams about him, but they feel fuzzy and far away.) The usual warmth breaks over your mind like rays of sunlight, and you let it. You have nothing to hide, not from him. You're partners. He is a being of infinite knowledge, older than you can imagine, and he picked you. He makes you, a freak, feel extraordinary. Together, you're going to change the world.
(Wait. Something about that feels off. Why, when you think about changing the world, do flashes of smoke and destruction rise in your mind?)
He puts a small black hand on your shoulder, and your half-formed doubts disappear. It's extended to rest on your opposite shoulder -- his arm is around your back. You try not to think about it. "THAT'S RIGHT! THE SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY WON'T KNOW WHAT HIT 'EM."
You know. You have dreams. You're going to rub elbows with scientific leaders, politicians, celebrities, childhood idols. You're going to know why the world is so weird, and you're going to show everyone the truth. You'll be....maybe not a hero, but a scientific pioneer. A Prometheus.
Bill hands you a blocky, very heavy laptop that says PROPERTY OF F across the top. "THIS IS WHERE THE ANSWERS ARE." On the screen is a rotating shadow of a four-dimensional shape, what might be an extrapolation of a sphere. Information about it seeps from Bill's mind into yours, without him having to tell you: it is a weird and wild place where anything is possible, where mind controls matter, where everything came from.
"DON'T YOU WANT TO KNOW?"
Of course you do. This is important. This project is going to change your life. You feel a little bit unaccountably sad. You feel like you're going to lose something, someone, if you go through with this. But Bill is here with you, shining into your mind, always a reflective surface of cheer and determination and relentless energy. You can't see any deeper into his mind, and you feel it might be rude to try. You are happy to let him look at yours: if he is a mirror, you are a window, letting the light in. He's still holding your shoulder. You can feel the warmth through your shirt. You hope he didn't see you noticing. The dream fades out. The last things to disappear are the sensation of touch and the rotating image on the laptop, and then it's gone.
[video]
But though some details fade, others come into focus, and Luke realizes it's Ford. And he feels a pang of borrowed betrayal. And mostly, sadness. For both of them.
But waits until morning to make the call, scrubs his eyes free from sleep and tries to hail Ford. He offers a slight, reassuring smile but doesn't beat around the bush.]
Ford. Hey. I think I ... borrowed one of your dreams, last night. I wanted to let you know that.
[video]
[Ford clearly doesn't know what has begun to happen across the ship.]
How? Is this a space w-- a Jedi thing? Can you bypass access filters somehow?
[video]
What? No. I mean. [Wait.] I don't think so? Didn't feel like that. I think it's a Barge thing.
[video]
...
I should have known something like this would happen.
All right, which one was it? What did you see?
[video]
[Luke's mouth snaps shut for a moment.]
Maybe it's not yours. I don't know. I don't think it's mine. But it felt personal, and we don't have to talk about it, but if you wanted... we can.
[video]
Ford's eyes go wide, very wide indeed. The details of that particular dream are fuzzy -- impressions, mostly -- but it's a dream he wouldn't want anyone to witness. He looks worried a moment, like he's casting about for something to say, then clears his throat.]
Oh.
Well. Yes, I think it's for the best if we don't discuss that dream at all. Ha ha, it's a shame! If it had been the one about the Mothman, I'd have told you all about that!
[It's jovial, and very much a diversion toward a subject Ford is more willing to talk about.]
[video]
Look, Ford, I don't want to pry into your privacy. I get that there's... history, here. And I didn't go looking for this, I hope you know that. But... at some point, you're going to have to talk about it. With someone.
[He looks up, as if to imply that he, the guy who knows Bill and has gone through his own share of heartache and betrayal and is infamous for not taking things personally, might be someone.]
[video]
[video]
Why does it bother you so much? The thought of talking about what happened?
[video]
It's embarrassment. The expression on Ford's face is anxious embarrassment.]
I've already said all there is to say about it. I was a fool, and he tricked me -- played on my ambition, made me mistrust my friends. It was the worst mistake of my life.
I've told my family all about it and wrote it out in the third journal. Isn't that enough?
[video]
Okay. But let me ask you this--how long ago did that happen? Are you over it?
[video]
A pause. Then, more quietly:]
I'm...trying to be.
I'll never forget what he did, to me and my family. I'll certainly never forgive him! But, for the sake of the progress he's made, I've tried to move past it. To not let it get in the way.
[He looks at Luke and gives a shrug. Sincerely and without malice, he asks:]
What good will it do here?
[Dragging up old grudges over a ruined life -- ruined lives -- isn't going to help anyone.]
[video]
[He leans back, flushing slightly.]
Then again, I don't have a choice about having my secrets broadcast to everyone, so maybe I shouldn't talk.
[video]
Give it a few more floods, and they might as well have been.
Anyway, I'm not denying anything that happened, I just don't want to talk about it.
[video]
Honestly, I didn't mean to pry.
Re: [video]
I know. It's not your fault.
It's this darn Barge, letting you think it's safe to dream behind an access filter and then ripping out the rug from under you as soon as the right flood hits.
[video]
[video]
Yes, well, the less said about that, the better.
Anyway, at least this one's avoided a bit more easily than some of the others.
[video]
Uh... how, exactly? By not... sleeping?
[video]
[video]
[Luke stops himself, rubbing his face. He's not going to win this argument, at least not like this.]
Actually, I'd love some coffee.
[video]
Excellent. Come by my cabin. I'll have enough for two people ready by then.
[action]
But he won't say any of that, at least not right off the bat. Instead, he'll head to Ford's room, which he's been meaning to do anyway for awhile, what with everything they've been through.]
Thanks, [he'll say when Ford opens the door and lets him in.] I guess eventually I need to learn how to make the stuff.
[action]
[The machine Ford pulls a coffeepot out from under is...homemade. It's blocky and has blinky dials and a LCD clock. It certainly does the trick of heating water and sending it through grounds and a coffee filter, and unlike, say, a french press, this one has a timer.
He pours two mugs of steaming caffienated bean water and passes one to Luke.]
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