04-02-2004, 13:55
EXODUS
Exit Point – 08:00
Somewhere in the world, on a pleasant grassy hillock under the shade of a copse, a tiny point of white light winks into existence a metre above the ground and hovers there. The wind that was rustling the trees just moments ago rises to a brief roar as the point of light spins open, briefly eclipsing the view of the hillock in a brilliant white flash. There is a thud of something heavy hitting the ground and the light is sucked away, vanishing as quickly as it came and revealing a stumpy tracked robot which looks halfway between a bomb disposal robot and a Mars Lander. It trundles forward, camera sweeping the area and arms folding out to sample the ground. It has only travelled a few metres when it becomes evident it has problems, it lurches to one side as part of the left track comes loose and the one of the arms drops limply to the ground. Another metre of movement and the left track disintegrates entirely, forcing the robot to creep around in a pathetic circle as its manipulator arms drop off and the camera droops. With a final crunch the camera falls out of its housing and the robot collapses into a pile of debris, marring the picturesque grass of the hill with its scattered gun-metal appendages.
Entry Point – 08:03
Somewhere else, nowhere near as pleasant, a trio stands around a bank of ramshackle computer equipment and examine a screen showing an image which crackles and turns into snow. There is a low cursing from a couple of the figures.
"That could have gone a little better", hazards one of the figures. His voice is low and resonant, though there is the definite twang of an irrepressible optimist.
"What the hell happened?", asks another in a clipped voice that smacks of a military background. It also smacks of a great deal of suppressed panic.
"It is only to be expected", replies a third in the concise and detached voice of the eternal scientist, "it is merely the Dain’an Condition acting upon our more sophisticated technology. As I’m sure you are well aware, transit has a substantial detrimental effect on devices subjected to it, particularly the micromechanical systems present within the scout."
"Well," says the first voice again, "the scout lasted long enough to show us what we needed to see, an atmosphere capable of supporting life. I shall send word to begin preparations for departure at once."
"Is there not a way to stop this? asks the second man, once we get there we will be defenceless! We won’t have anything to help us survive. And all we’ve got is…."
The rant is rudely interrupted by the wail of a siren, causing all three figures to jump
"The decision is made for us," proclaims the first voice in a tone that will brook no argument. "I choose an uncertain future for our people on an unknown earth rather than certain death by remaining here. Make the necessary preparations."
Exit Point – 08:37
Flash after flash illuminates the hill and waves of people stagger down the hill, blinking and shielding their eyes from the light. Their clothes are dirty and all but a few look worse for wear, thin and bedraggled. Men come first and look stronger than the others, waving strange weapons which fall apart as they carry them. They clutch to them still, like some token to ward off an unspeakable evil. Next come the women and children, looking around them uncertainly and heading in dribs and drabs towards the shelter of the woods. More men come next, as do the old and the infirm, helped by those around them. Three figures wait by the Exit Point, the same three who huddled around the computer. They direct the human tide down the hill and try and stem their panic. It seems their presence goes quite some way towards calming the people. Then the flashes abruptly stop. The figures, and indeed the people who had just exited, regard it for some time before reacting.
"There were many still to come," says the second man. In the light it can be seen he is a man in his early thirties, clean shaven and with blond hair. He is clothed in the remnants of a military uniform and clutches the remains of a pistol.
"We did all we could," says the first speaker, an older man in his fifties with a few strands of whitening hair teased across his otherwise bald scalp, "we need to look to the future now and make the best we can. We must make a camp and get the shelters up before it gets dark, lest we all freeze."
"And then what?" asks the scientist, who is the youngest of the three, barely midway through his twenties and with unkempt brown hair and the beginnings of a beard.
"Well, then we start exploring the new world…" says the first, and turns towards the remnants of their people.
OOC - If anyone wants the refugees to turn up in their country I'm happy to run with it.
Exit Point – 08:00
Somewhere in the world, on a pleasant grassy hillock under the shade of a copse, a tiny point of white light winks into existence a metre above the ground and hovers there. The wind that was rustling the trees just moments ago rises to a brief roar as the point of light spins open, briefly eclipsing the view of the hillock in a brilliant white flash. There is a thud of something heavy hitting the ground and the light is sucked away, vanishing as quickly as it came and revealing a stumpy tracked robot which looks halfway between a bomb disposal robot and a Mars Lander. It trundles forward, camera sweeping the area and arms folding out to sample the ground. It has only travelled a few metres when it becomes evident it has problems, it lurches to one side as part of the left track comes loose and the one of the arms drops limply to the ground. Another metre of movement and the left track disintegrates entirely, forcing the robot to creep around in a pathetic circle as its manipulator arms drop off and the camera droops. With a final crunch the camera falls out of its housing and the robot collapses into a pile of debris, marring the picturesque grass of the hill with its scattered gun-metal appendages.
Entry Point – 08:03
Somewhere else, nowhere near as pleasant, a trio stands around a bank of ramshackle computer equipment and examine a screen showing an image which crackles and turns into snow. There is a low cursing from a couple of the figures.
"That could have gone a little better", hazards one of the figures. His voice is low and resonant, though there is the definite twang of an irrepressible optimist.
"What the hell happened?", asks another in a clipped voice that smacks of a military background. It also smacks of a great deal of suppressed panic.
"It is only to be expected", replies a third in the concise and detached voice of the eternal scientist, "it is merely the Dain’an Condition acting upon our more sophisticated technology. As I’m sure you are well aware, transit has a substantial detrimental effect on devices subjected to it, particularly the micromechanical systems present within the scout."
"Well," says the first voice again, "the scout lasted long enough to show us what we needed to see, an atmosphere capable of supporting life. I shall send word to begin preparations for departure at once."
"Is there not a way to stop this? asks the second man, once we get there we will be defenceless! We won’t have anything to help us survive. And all we’ve got is…."
The rant is rudely interrupted by the wail of a siren, causing all three figures to jump
"The decision is made for us," proclaims the first voice in a tone that will brook no argument. "I choose an uncertain future for our people on an unknown earth rather than certain death by remaining here. Make the necessary preparations."
Exit Point – 08:37
Flash after flash illuminates the hill and waves of people stagger down the hill, blinking and shielding their eyes from the light. Their clothes are dirty and all but a few look worse for wear, thin and bedraggled. Men come first and look stronger than the others, waving strange weapons which fall apart as they carry them. They clutch to them still, like some token to ward off an unspeakable evil. Next come the women and children, looking around them uncertainly and heading in dribs and drabs towards the shelter of the woods. More men come next, as do the old and the infirm, helped by those around them. Three figures wait by the Exit Point, the same three who huddled around the computer. They direct the human tide down the hill and try and stem their panic. It seems their presence goes quite some way towards calming the people. Then the flashes abruptly stop. The figures, and indeed the people who had just exited, regard it for some time before reacting.
"There were many still to come," says the second man. In the light it can be seen he is a man in his early thirties, clean shaven and with blond hair. He is clothed in the remnants of a military uniform and clutches the remains of a pistol.
"We did all we could," says the first speaker, an older man in his fifties with a few strands of whitening hair teased across his otherwise bald scalp, "we need to look to the future now and make the best we can. We must make a camp and get the shelters up before it gets dark, lest we all freeze."
"And then what?" asks the scientist, who is the youngest of the three, barely midway through his twenties and with unkempt brown hair and the beginnings of a beard.
"Well, then we start exploring the new world…" says the first, and turns towards the remnants of their people.
OOC - If anyone wants the refugees to turn up in their country I'm happy to run with it.