mirrortouch | 01 | 🕐

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01 | 🕐 | audio

[ It's not something that really ever becomes routine, it doesn't matter how often he wakes up someplace strange and uncharted. The voice on the line sounds about as scattered as he feels. ]

My name is Will Graham, it's- [ He's pulling back his sleeve to look for a watch that's not there. ] I don't have the time. I don't- I don't have the time.

[ Hang on, don't get too lost. ]

It's not clear to me exactly where I am, but- [ a dry laugh ] you probably already knew that. This isn't even my phone. But you probably knew that too.

[ He's missing details. He's missing plenty. His voice trails off for a short while before he can get his bearings enough to speak again, and even then it's almost unconsciously. ] I don't know. I don't know.

[ It's as if the fact that he has no idea sparks him back into the present. His voice grows more composed, if somewhat cracked. ] So if you're hearing this, if anyone is hearing this - [ is anyone hearing this? ] - any singular indication will be key.

[ Another beat. ]

I feel as though I've strayed a long, long way from home.

[ The air goes dead, and then so does the line. ]

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Observant. Ooh, I like that in a man.

[That's delivered with too cheerful a grin not to be a joke.]

No, I mean - when my Victor got 'ere the barge give 'im the cell 'e'd been kept chained up in. She does 'er best but she's not a person the way you or me are. She takes whatever's on the top of your memories, and that's not always the right thing. A lot of our passengers come 'ere from bad places.

So you let me know if you'd like it changed, Will love. I'm Iris, by the way. Iris Wildthyme. Welcome aboard.

We're assuming the barge is sentient, then.

[ Being dead is one thing. Ships being inside his mind is another entirely. Everyone's determined to push at his limits, meaningfully or not.

He speaks up again in a sarcastically chipper voice, carefully pronunciating his words to be sure she hears him. It's a skewed, sullen kind of arrogance. ]

Iris, my cell - is fresh out of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Now - that's a very impressive amount of detail in a very familiar room to me, and that's how you would explain it to me?

I know she is, lovey. You're new, so I expect you're assuming I'm pulling your pudding.

[She's plainly unbothered by this. No one ever believes it at first.]

Still. Would you like me to ask for it changed?

And soon I'll come to see the truth.

[ It's sarcasm, but he just doesn't know it yet. ]

It's hard for me to conceive of a prison that might so entirely cater to the whims of its 'inmates' [ the word is still dubious in his mouth, but not paranoid like it'd like to be ] as to complete an entire room revision.

I make it an 'abit not to argue the nature of truth with new arrivals, lovey. The nature of the Barge'll make itself apparent without my 'elp.

You don't need to conceive of it. But I'm 'appy to wait till you're more settled, if you like. Now. D'you need anything else? Lunch, drinks, medical attention, a guided tour? Chromie does a very useful pamphlet, though 'ardly any bugger reads it.

Meaning it might welcome me into its warm embrace as it has so many others here.

[ There's a tone that's still evident in his voice, as if to say: Not bloody likely. He's marched to the beat of his own drummer before, he's been the entire parade behind that drummer before. And so he doesn't mean to be angry, but that's all he can feel smoldering within him, as though an old rage was newly awakened. ]

I can't imagine it's a very long tour. They do call it prison for a reason. [ Why he's still able to walk out and about, that still eludes him. ] I'm almost curious, how one could capture all the nuances therein within a single pamphlet.

Oh, you can't, lovey. But it does lay out the basics of what we're all doing 'ere and what to expect.

Look. You were brought 'ere without consent and it's all extremely strange; quite a lot of it's probably impossible by the standards of your native time and place. I get that. I do. I'm not trying to come off as dismissive. It's just that this 'appens to everyone that didn't volunteer. With a few exceptions, they're all disbelieving, suspicious, angry, what 'ave you. They're also all very clever people, Will love, people of great ...spirit and ability. I'm not sure this boat's interested in any other kind. So you needn't talk to me like I'm too daft to understand. I do. As much as a volunteer 'ere can, any road. I 'ave been in prisons, and mental institutions, as it 'appens; just not this one. Not against me will.

My point is I'm not trying to sell it to you. Well, not exactly. I'm trying to make it as painless as it can be, and to give you all the facts. That's all.

[ It's at once occurred to him that he's being a great big bag of dicks in all of this.

Lashing out at the people who are claiming to help is going to very quickly get him nowhere, something he's consciously aware of but perhaps not the unconscious like he's operating. What Iris says doesn't make him less angry, by any means of the definition; it just makes him blessedly more self-aware of the fact. A thin sigh escapes his lips, and when he speaks up after a beat or two, it's at the least less laden with sarcasm. ]

Is anyone ever particularly willingly imprisoned?

[ Another pause, as he gathers himself. ]

What facts, exactly, would that lead me to be missing? I've been painted a patchy picture at best, [ as if by numbers, ] and here you stand with the brush.

That's better. Any friend of Abigail's 'ad to be clever. Right. First off, there are people 'ere from a great many different worlds. Not all of us are human, and quite a lot of 'em only exist in fictional form in yours. They're not dressing up. They're not deluded. They're as real as you are.

Second, we are genuinely outside of time 'ere. I saw you were worried about your dogs; don't be. You can be 'ere for years and get back five minutes after you've left. Or Ned and me can always go get 'em. Seven's rather a lot to 'ave 'ere, mind you, but barge pets are a thing. I've got two meself.

[She tilts the comm screen to show Will the two German Shepherds grinning widely at the communicator.]

The one on me lap's Elvis and this is 'is brother Solace. Me and my son rescued 'em from 'is native New York back in 1975.

You need to know about breaches, floods and the death toll; that's all covered in the pamphlet. To be honest, nowt I can say can really prepare you for those. Sometimes they're fun, sometimes they're absolute disasters; most of the time they're a mixture of both according to your dynamic with the people round you and your particular circumstance. Even when you're used to it you never really get used to it. It's why I love it 'ere, to be honest. Constant change. I can't do with anywhere dull.

You're lucky, in a way, you know. You're effectively under Abigail's protection. Not everyone 'ere will respect that, but she's loved.

[ He's quiet for a beat, considerate. When he speaks up, there's a kind of pride that comes with it, exactly like a father recognizing a child's accomplishments. ]

Yes, well - Abigail possesses- a natural charisma. [ It's often confused with candor. But he can't be surprised she's made herself friends here. It's been a year she's been in this place, shaped by it and its people, and he's still effectively in wary territory where the matter's considered. Then again, Abigail's not his only concern; she can't be. ]

I realize there is a general desire for you to lavish comfort upon a lost newcomer - [ And he respects that, he'll certainly remember it down the road and it goes without saying. He pauses again, and contemplates how best to word what he's trying to say. ] Call it a breed of reawakened paranoia whenever I might cite my reasons for not making an immediate home of the place. My bed isn't going to change that. My dogs aren't going to change that.

[ But that's obvious. Maybe he too will drink the prophetic Kool-Aid somewhere down the road, he can't say with any certainty. It's already determined to leave a certain lingering curiosity on him. Dull, too, sits none too smoothly with him anymore. ]

I'll ride the wave but you can't make me wear the leash. [ Somehow, he feels that gets his point across better. The rest is almost a question, a prompt of sorts: ] You know her well. Abigail.

[Iris smiles to see the pride, for several reasons: it's another puzzle piece, another thing known, and another factor in the complex whirl of Barge dynamics.

And on a more immediate level, it's satisfying to see Will on more solid ground.]

No. Not well. We're not close, 'er and me: she doesn't need me, see? But she's close to people I love, and she's interesting in 'er own right. I've got a lot of respect for 'er. I think that's the most accurate way to put it.

[And then her eyes crinkle and she grins.]

I don't even put leashes on me own dogs, lovey. Want to come for a walk? I were about to take 'em out for some frisbee.

[ It's good to know, it's good to note. It's good to pretend that he can even begin to understand where Abigail's coming from when he knows absolutely nothing about what's happened to her this past year. Conjecture never sat well with him.

If he really wanted to figure out the pieces he was missing, there was some significant evidence he'd need to acquire. It's not just her. He's been left with more questions than he started with, exponentially growing as he goes along. ]

I don't - frisbee. [ It's his passive and initial turn-down; the arm-crossing is practically prevalent in his voice. ] Where - Hang on, where, exactly, is it you plan on doing that? There's not some kind of rudimentary park on this thing.

[She lifts a displeased eyebrow at I don't frisbee - Iris has no patience for those reluctant to wring every pleasure out of existence, however unlikely or undignified. And then he gives her another in, and she grins mischievously instead.]

No. Though there is a garden on deck, as it 'appens. I'm taking 'em to the CES - closed environment system. This is no ordinay space boat you've landed on, I'll 'ave you know, Will love.

Meet us up top and I'll show you. Harvey might be bringing 'is dogs and all - though actually, 'e almost certainly won't, but I did ask 'im.

'Ordinary' and 'space boat' are both kind of mutually exclusive descriptors.

[ He's agreeing with her, if a little brusquely in tone. ]

I suppose it would be - rude to turn down the invitation. [ Not to mention the fact that it's not like he's going to be doing anything else in the near future.

Anything to stay out of his room. ]

Twenty-first century, aren't you? Aye, I s'pose they are, then. I'm up on deck by the door - I'll wait.

[She angles her comm to show Will where she's standing, and the two patient dogs by her feet.]

CES needs a warden to get in and all, but that's a very small formality unless you're a troublemaker. In practice it's never a problem.

[ Twenty-first century, yes. As opposed to? He doesn't ask; in fact, he doesn't respond at all, he just shows up.

For the hell of it, he supposes. There's not much else to expect out of a place like this. He feels exhausted, but he also feels like there is much to learn (and that he probably should be learning) about this place.

His hands are in his pockets when he climbs the last few stairs to the deck. He spots Iris, the dogs, nigh immediately, and speaks as he's crossing towards her: ]

I suppose that makes you the bestowing warden tasked with allowing me inside - [ whatever this thing is. ]

[As opposed to any other century, obviously. Keep up, Will!

Iris in the flesh is smaller than she looks; five feet high, smallboned. The two Shepherds look like dire wolves next to her, rhinestone-encrusted pink collars and all.

They press close to Will, rumbling softly in greeting, heads pushing at his hands, great tails sweeping low and wide in pleasure.

Iris watches him intently, her smile softer than her brassy exterior indicates; in fact, she finds it hard, in the face of his rawboned lostness, not to sweep him into a hug.]

I'm just the one that 'appens to be wanting to use it right now, love. Which would you rather: a familiar landscape or a strange one?

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