Yeah, they left stuff all over the place. Documents, recordings, computers... not like they were expecting visitors.
[ And clothes. And sticky notes. And photos, and sketchbooks, and journals, and love letters. Simon drops his gaze; it was always sad, especially when he found the headless corpses or confused simulations or half-dead, half-lucid remains of the people whose human existence he’d rifled through to preserve his own, but he never really thought about it like that, in terms of knowing a lot about the individuals here. They were information, about how to get out, how to get into locked terminals... and which crew members were friends, and what they liked to do, who they loved, where they were from.
He had to keep moving, and freaking out over how the monsters and rotting husks used to be people who didn’t do anything wrong, how they’d spent a year trying to grapple with the Armageddon he’d known about for thirty hours, wasn’t super conducive to that. ]
I guess it does kind of feel like you know somebody when they leave their life lying out in the open like that.
[ Thanks Simon. Going on this tour was a great honeymoon idea. Anyway, he presses the door’s switch when they reach it and it opens to reveal... the most colorful part of the complex they’ve run into so far, and not just because there are splatters of blood on the floors, although rest assured there are. The words THETA LABORATORIES sprawl down the wall adjacent to them, and the architecture has surprisingly modern touches of orange and yellow paneling.
Large standing whiteboards, posters, and desks with computers — normal ones, with chairs that people would have sat at — are visible even from this distance in the conference-room-esque area down the upcoming hall, which is even lined with windows. (That’s actually one of Simon’s less-favorite parts, but it looks nice.) If it weren’t for the guy slumped back in the chair also visible through the glass (he’s also covered in blood, and not doing much), it would almost be a laboratory you could take home to your mother. It’s the first place that really looks, from here, like somewhere space-age brainstorming happened. Somewhere you can imagine the people who worked here designing, and troubleshooting, and engineering the future, when they thought there would be one.
no subject
[ And clothes. And sticky notes. And photos, and sketchbooks, and journals, and love letters. Simon drops his gaze; it was always sad, especially when he found the headless corpses or confused simulations or half-dead, half-lucid remains of the people whose human existence he’d rifled through to preserve his own, but he never really thought about it like that, in terms of knowing a lot about the individuals here. They were information, about how to get out, how to get into locked terminals... and which crew members were friends, and what they liked to do, who they loved, where they were from.
He had to keep moving, and freaking out over how the monsters and rotting husks used to be people who didn’t do anything wrong, how they’d spent a year trying to grapple with the Armageddon he’d known about for thirty hours, wasn’t super conducive to that. ]
I guess it does kind of feel like you know somebody when they leave their life lying out in the open like that.
[ Thanks Simon. Going on this tour was a great honeymoon idea. Anyway, he presses the door’s switch when they reach it and it opens to reveal... the most colorful part of the complex they’ve run into so far, and not just because there are splatters of blood on the floors, although rest assured there are. The words THETA LABORATORIES sprawl down the wall adjacent to them, and the architecture has surprisingly modern touches of orange and yellow paneling.
Large standing whiteboards, posters, and desks with computers — normal ones, with chairs that people would have sat at — are visible even from this distance in the conference-room-esque area down the upcoming hall, which is even lined with windows. (That’s actually one of Simon’s less-favorite parts, but it looks nice.) If it weren’t for the guy slumped back in the chair also visible through the glass (he’s also covered in blood, and not doing much), it would almost be a laboratory you could take home to your mother. It’s the first place that really looks, from here, like somewhere space-age brainstorming happened. Somewhere you can imagine the people who worked here designing, and troubleshooting, and engineering the future, when they thought there would be one.
Now, it’s very quiet. ]
Don’t run ahead, okay?