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gently caress it, $75 is a lot of money right now. I'm in.
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Sep 12, 2021 04:23
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| # ¿ May 10, 2024 11:47 |
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A Character is Lost 1225 words "Just admit that we're lost." A stern silence swept the cabin. Everyone had been thinking it, but Dr. Dumont was the first to say it out loud--and with that, all eyes fell upon her. The captain of their little expedition--Marcus Burns--was quick to break that silence. "We're not lost. ...We've had to take a small detour on account of the weather. That's it. S'not that big a deal." "If it's not," chimed a voice from the far end of the room, "why are you sweating?" All eyes shifted once more to find the photographer, Jersey Carlisle. Kicked back. Relaxed. An idle smirk upon his face. It was really all the same to him, after all--he was down on his luck, desperate... willing to lend a hand if it meant a free trip and a couple bucks. He'd hoped to grab some shots of penguins--penguins were an easy sell--but any place outside the states would do. The captain gave Carlisle a firm squint. "You can spot the difference between sweat and rainwater... from over there?" "I've got an eye for the out of place," replied the photographer. "You're just stirring the pot," the doctor pointed out. "If you don't have anything to contribute--" And Jersey grinned. "Yeah. YOU'D say that, huh? Remind the class what your field trip to the Antarctic's about...?" Dr. Dumont sighed deeply. "I'm doing an experiment with Adélie penguins--" "No, I got that part," Carlisle interjected. "But why? You've been... fuckin' serenading us with tales of all the cutesy poo poo they do, how great it feels to change the world--what's the experiment? You've been dodging that question since day one." "I don't see how the details of the experiment matter right now," Dumont replied. "We're lost. I KNOW that we're lost. I've been to see the penguins numerous times already, and we are absolutely off course." "Numerous times with who?," pressed the photographer. "Other crews," came her reply. "BETTER crews, apparently." The captain sniffed. "Then why not call one of them?" "What?," scoffed the doctor, "to sail out here and save me?" "No," said Marcus loudly, shaking his head. "I mean in the first place. I told you I'd never made a trip like this... if you knew other crews--" Dr. Dumont's voice rose to match the captain's. "So you admit that we're lost." The sound of the storm outside spiked, peaking at a low roar. The four were once more pressured into silence. Eventually the storm quieted, the ship settling. "...My experiment has nothing to do with this," Dr. Dumont finally stated. "Is that what you think? That my work with penguins somehow... CONJURED this storm, like I'm some sort of witch? If I say yes, will you admit that we're lost?" "I just think," began the captain, "that if we're all gonna be honest here, maybe we oughta take it from the top." "I've been nothing BUT honest," the doctor said firmly, but-- "What got you kicked off the other boats?" Once more, all eyes fell upon Jersey Carlisle. "'Cuz I'm betting it wasn't witchcraft. You said what you're doing is life changing, why don't you wanna talk about it?" "I was not 'kicked off the other boats' Mr. Carlisle," Dr. Dumont huffed. "There were scheduling complications--" "Bullshit." "Yeah," added Carlisle, "I'm also callin' bullshit." The doctor's silence transitioned smoothly into the next overpowering roar. The tiny vessel shook harder than it ever had. Even once the storm had calmed anew, the doctor hesitated. "You want the truth?," she asked. "Harrassment, aggression, and--you'll never believe this--paranoia. Every ship I've ridden with, the crewmen take some mysterious exception to me and my profession and my mere god damned presence. You want to know why I withold the details of my experiment? Because the details are boring, and the significance of the potential findings isn't immediately obvious. If you want me to sit here and bore you with details about proteins, and... twelve generations of penguin breeding, then fine, but it's not going to change the fact that we're lost." Carlisle was the first to respond. "...So you're not just settin' up a little penguin society? You're gonna cure cancer or something with penguin blood." "Sure," the doctor replied dryly, rolling her eyes. "Let's go with that. That reductionist attitude is exactly why I don't want to drag out the details--if it's not curing cancer or solving world hunger then I'm just setting myself up to be demeaned. We're still lost--we've been lost for days. I know the route, I know what it looks like, and we're going to end up... well, in God-knows-where--" "We're just taking a detour," the captain repeated. "Trying to work around the storm." "That storm really came outta nowhere," remarked Carlisle. "...Amazing that you saw it comin' a couple days ahead of time." Marcus turned his weary attention back to Carlisle. "You believe her?" Carlisle shrugged. "You didn't argue with her sayin' we've been off course for days, lost or not. Didn't even flinch. Just thought it was funny." Dr. Dumont joined the captain in furrowing her brow at Carlisle. "I'm... glad you can find humor in all of this, Mr. Carlisle." "I'm just bein' honest," he replied. "I figure somebody oughta be. See, I've been up and down the docks a few times trying to score a free cruise--I've seen you around, Dr. Dumont. Heard the rumors blowin' around about why you have to keep finding new rides, too." With a grin, the photographer pointed a fingergun at the captain. "...But you, I never saw. Not 'til the day you pulled up with nothing better planned than a trip to the Antarctic on the whims of some goofy doctor. The fuckin' ANTARCTIC! Never made a trip like this before, he says." The photographer paused... his grin steadily reigniting. "We were never gonna make it to the island. Were we?" Somehow, the clash of thunder that followed managed to suck all the tension from the room. "You're just stirring the pot," the doctor said firmly. "Yeah," Marcus agreed, "I can see why Dr. Dumont thinks we're lost, but... man. Don't be ridiculous." Carlisle simply shrugged, and leaned back in his seat. "I'm just sayin'. The doc, and your little reject first mate... I've seen 'em both, regular tourists where all the ships hang out. You?" He shrugged wider. "You're a stranger to me, buddy." "If you think I'm some kind of serial killer," Marcus muttered, "and you think the doctor's... I don't know, cursed--then why'd YOU want to come?" Carlisle smiled. He smiled wide. A genuine smile. "I told you, Marcus: I got an eye for the out of place. And this ship? It's goin' outta place." "...Jesus Christ," grumbled the doctor. "I'm going back to bed." The captain merely shook his head, eyeing the photographer one last time before he, too, made his exit. It was clear the conversation was going nowhere. Days passed. The argument was forgotten. It had been late, and the storm had everyone tense. The vague shape of the island appearing over the horizon eased the atmosphere aboard the small ship. It was forgotten as the island drew nearer--Bluff Island, part of the Magnetic Island and home to a large colony of Adélie penguins. The argument was forgotten right up until the point that the penguins, watching the boat pull in, began to whisper among themselves.
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Oct 9, 2021 03:58
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