skinandbone (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skinandbone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
taxonomites2012-12-04 12:52 pm
skinandbone) wrote in taxonomites2012-12-04 12:52 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
" - now, one thing to note is that the farther we get away from the source rock, the smaller the grains in our sediment. This is because it's a heck of a lot easier for water to carry teeny tiny specks than boulders. Just like it's easier for you to carry handouts instead of – instead of – of textbooks...”
Metody falters, looking around. This is not Geology 101.
It is nothing new for Metody to find himself some place unexpected, or to lose pieces of time. There is a reason he writes everything down. But what is unnerving is the quiet.
There are no fans. No hiss of ventilation, no hum of distant machines. No purr of far-off mechanisms cleaning the poisoned air, and to a man who has spent the past few years surrounded by constant noise, the silence is a roaring terror.
“Agh – oh, no. No, no, no, no - “
Metody flings the large backpack off of his back. He chokes a bit on the breathing equipment - part of it remains in the throat - but that doesn't slow his well practiced motions at all. Goggles next, then the little clip that closes his nostrils, then the flexible mask. The rest of it is rather like a skin diver’s suit, but easier to wiggle on.
He swings his pack onto his back again and spends a moment attaching the supplemental oxygen tubing. Once basic matters of survival are handled, he looks around again. His face is no longer visible, but his posture is clearly confused.
Metody walks to the table and picks up the tablet. This looks familiar, at least, sort of. He pokes aimlessly at it. Any viewers get the benefit of a long minute of his alien-looking goggled and masked face before he realizes it is possibly transmitting.
He glances down at the indicator on the arm of his suit, then reaches up and slowly pulls out the core of the breather, coughing again as he removes it from his throat. He takes a cautious breath, and is relieved when it doesn't burn.
"Hk- kah. Hello?"
He licks his lips uncertainly. Is this okay? Oh, golly, he hopes this isn't some kind of official channel.
“Ah – is anyone there? I'm very sorry, but I'm lost and – I think – I, um....” A worried fidget, then in a rush, “The air is off in my building, I can't hear it at all. I don't think it's been off for very long because my suit says it's still good. Except I – I lost some time, so I don't know if there's gases or – “ A shaky laugh. “ - I just got checked out last month, so – my skin and breathing are okay, I think, so maybe it didn't linger - ”
The screen wobbles as he shifts his grip on it, lifting his head to look around the room. Is that a door?
“ - I'm sorry.”
Metody falters, looking around. This is not Geology 101.
It is nothing new for Metody to find himself some place unexpected, or to lose pieces of time. There is a reason he writes everything down. But what is unnerving is the quiet.
There are no fans. No hiss of ventilation, no hum of distant machines. No purr of far-off mechanisms cleaning the poisoned air, and to a man who has spent the past few years surrounded by constant noise, the silence is a roaring terror.
“Agh – oh, no. No, no, no, no - “
Metody flings the large backpack off of his back. He chokes a bit on the breathing equipment - part of it remains in the throat - but that doesn't slow his well practiced motions at all. Goggles next, then the little clip that closes his nostrils, then the flexible mask. The rest of it is rather like a skin diver’s suit, but easier to wiggle on.
He swings his pack onto his back again and spends a moment attaching the supplemental oxygen tubing. Once basic matters of survival are handled, he looks around again. His face is no longer visible, but his posture is clearly confused.
Metody walks to the table and picks up the tablet. This looks familiar, at least, sort of. He pokes aimlessly at it. Any viewers get the benefit of a long minute of his alien-looking goggled and masked face before he realizes it is possibly transmitting.
He glances down at the indicator on the arm of his suit, then reaches up and slowly pulls out the core of the breather, coughing again as he removes it from his throat. He takes a cautious breath, and is relieved when it doesn't burn.
"Hk- kah. Hello?"
He licks his lips uncertainly. Is this okay? Oh, golly, he hopes this isn't some kind of official channel.
“Ah – is anyone there? I'm very sorry, but I'm lost and – I think – I, um....” A worried fidget, then in a rush, “The air is off in my building, I can't hear it at all. I don't think it's been off for very long because my suit says it's still good. Except I – I lost some time, so I don't know if there's gases or – “ A shaky laugh. “ - I just got checked out last month, so – my skin and breathing are okay, I think, so maybe it didn't linger - ”
The screen wobbles as he shifts his grip on it, lifting his head to look around the room. Is that a door?
“ - I'm sorry.”