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Apr. 29th, 2010 08:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Shiny buildings! Lush green parks! Sharp-dressed folk striding up and down the sidewalks with purpose and vigor! All of these descriptions would fit somewhere that isn't the Den.
To say that the Den was rustic would be doing authentic examples of rusticism a disservice. Many towns did not reach their dilapidated state because of the ravages of war, but rather the ravages of time. The town where the Den now stood had not been flattened by atomic bombs, but by looking at it, perhaps that would have been doing it a favor.
Some of the aging pre-war buildings have had whatever maintenance was necessary to keep the number of gaping holes in the roofs and walls to a minimum, leading to a sort of post-post-post-modern neo-retro-classical architectural style. Civic beautification is not a high priority, nor is filling in all the potholes.
There's no grass to mow, yesterdays junk is today's half-buried tetanus hazards, and plumbing is of the outdoor variety exemplified by the outhouse that for Sativa serves as a door to and from Milliways.
"This way," She tells her guest, pointing to crumbling road alongside the seedy bar (The Hole isn't just a clever name) they are standing behind. "The junkyard's just beyond the far end of the street. Watch your step."
That's no so much a warning about what you do here, as it is to actually make sure you don't put your foot in anything unpleasant.
To say that the Den was rustic would be doing authentic examples of rusticism a disservice. Many towns did not reach their dilapidated state because of the ravages of war, but rather the ravages of time. The town where the Den now stood had not been flattened by atomic bombs, but by looking at it, perhaps that would have been doing it a favor.
Some of the aging pre-war buildings have had whatever maintenance was necessary to keep the number of gaping holes in the roofs and walls to a minimum, leading to a sort of post-post-post-modern neo-retro-classical architectural style. Civic beautification is not a high priority, nor is filling in all the potholes.
There's no grass to mow, yesterdays junk is today's half-buried tetanus hazards, and plumbing is of the outdoor variety exemplified by the outhouse that for Sativa serves as a door to and from Milliways.
"This way," She tells her guest, pointing to crumbling road alongside the seedy bar (The Hole isn't just a clever name) they are standing behind. "The junkyard's just beyond the far end of the street. Watch your step."
That's no so much a warning about what you do here, as it is to actually make sure you don't put your foot in anything unpleasant.
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Date: 2010-05-03 11:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-03 11:53 am (UTC)No lasers, sadly. An oversight on the part of Chryslus Motors, or a necessary omission with the increase of engines running on atomic power and volatile temperaments during heavy traffic.
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Date: 2010-05-03 10:32 pm (UTC)There is the hum of white noise rising and a burst of energy.
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Date: 2010-05-05 12:29 pm (UTC)Sativa's eyes widen. "Whoa."
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Date: 2010-05-05 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-06 02:26 am (UTC)"Another time, perhaps. For now we'll make do with the old-fashioned way." Get out and shoot, or go to ramming speed.
She's drawn to fiddling with the latch to the glove compartment which, to her surprise, falls open.
There's not much inside apart from an owner's manual with most of the pages stuck together, an out-of-date road map with a half-melted mint stuck to it (there's always one), a torch with batteries so moldy they've started to develop their own customs and beliefs, and an unlabeled holotape, which she takes out to inspect.
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Date: 2010-05-06 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-06 09:54 am (UTC)It looks to be in decent shape. What would be on a holotape left in an old car?
Her eyes drift down to the stereo system where there's a conveniently-sized slot. On a hunch, she slips the holotape in, and after brief moment of whirring as the player reads it, a fast-paced piano tune starts up.
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Date: 2010-05-06 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-06 12:03 pm (UTC)She looks around and shakes her head. Cyborg would be out of luck even if there were. Music hadn't progressed the same way through the twentieth century on this world as it has elsewhere.
"No. What does what you listen to sound like?"
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Date: 2010-05-06 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-07 02:55 am (UTC)Things that never existed in this timeline for 200, Alex.
"Like a... thing that watches something very carefully," She assures him. "Doesn't look all that complicated."
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Date: 2010-05-07 08:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 08:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 09:25 am (UTC)What, now? "Sure," her mouth says.
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Date: 2010-05-10 09:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 11:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 12:35 pm (UTC)With one hand on the wheel, she shifts the stick and gently puts pressure the pedal. "Okay, nice and slow-"
Not gently enough, though, and then as she remembers to take off the break the car accelerates very quickly... in reverse.
"WHOA!" Slamming her foot on the break and fighting for control of the steering the car does a 180 and comes to a sudden halt, surrounded by cloud of dust.
With a white-knuckled grip on the wheel she glances sidelong at her instructor. "Whoops?"
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Date: 2010-05-11 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-11 05:33 am (UTC)She lets her breathing settle down, shifts into the proper gear this time, and with the most feather-like amount of force on the pedal eases the machine forward at a less hell-bent pace, keeping them on more-or-less on the road.
At least there's no other traffic to worry about.
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Date: 2010-05-11 09:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-11 10:04 am (UTC)Sativa lets out a loud laugh as the excitement fizzes up inside her. "...I'm driving."
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Date: 2010-05-11 11:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
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