milliways_bar | (no subject)

Autor bristles. "I don't know what my age has to do with anything," he says, pursing his lips under the mask. "I could be a scientist, if that's what I wanted to be, but as it happens, I am a writer."

He fidgets again, picking up his teacup and setting it down. "Yes, well. There are creatures here who don't come from Earth, though the majority of us come from some version of it or another," he says. "And if you can't get back, then you're Bound. It happens from time to time indiscriminately that the Bar just doesn't feel like letting you go."

Bonnie sits down opposite - clearly this is someone who knows what's going on around here.

"Oh sure you could be a scientist." she says, and there's no patronisation in her tone whatsoever. "My boy Wallace used to paint some concoction he invented on the board to dissolve the chalk, cain't have been more than fifteen..."

Fond smile of memory, then a nod and offering a handshake.

"I'm Bonnie, good to meet someone who knows what's goin' on. Rather than me tryin' all sorts of hypotheses about aliens, perhaps you could kindly tell me how I got here and how I'm being held?"

Autor blinks at her a few times, and then shuts his book. The offered hand gets a once-over and a brief nod.

"You got here--Milliways, the bar at the end of the universe--because the bar decided you should come. You're Bound for the same reason," he says. "How new are you? Has no one told you anything?"

"Well the only other guy I met so far came in right behind me, and he didn't know nothing about it either." Bonnie says. "We wandered around for a bit, I found my way back, next day I got taken from a different place and now I cain't get out."

Autor places a hand on his cheek. "Oh, goodness. Well, where to start. As I said, this is Milliways, the bar at the end of the universe," he says. "The Window over there is proof for some, and there are three rules: no violence, no acting on outside grudges from your world, and no public indecency."

Bonnie listens, and nods sensibly.

"Why is everyone sick?" she asks.

"Because flu viruses are nasty and no one has an immunity to this particular strand," he states matter-of-factly. "Strange things happen in Milliways, and this is no exception. It's a flu that makes one think they are someone else, so don't get sick."

He pats the bar. "This is Bar, by the way. She's sentient and will communicate via napkin and get you things should you ask. And your first drink is free."

"Ew." Bonnie comments. "I'll try not to, thanks for the heads-up."

Bar provides her with a coffee, just as she likes it.

"I was wondering how that worked... how she worked." she corrects herself. "Such a smooth bit of craftsmanship." she adds, admiring the polished surface.

"When I first came in I thought it might be an elaborate student prank, but none of my seniors have this level of skill."

"You're a woodworking teacher, then?" Autor asks, and then nods at her assessment of Bar. "I don't know how Bar was made. She's just always been here, I think."

He pulls the mask down to quickly sip his tea again. "Let's see, what else should you know... There's an 'outside' to the bar, too, called the grounds if you haven't seen it," he says. "Right through that door, though it might be snowy out. The bar follows its own calendar, too. Right now it's February, 2014."

"Shop teacher - woodwork, metalwork, cars, whatever I get my hands on." Bonnie says.

She listens to the instructions.

"It's February 1955 at home." she says. "I'll take a look, we don't get a lot of snow."

She watches him pull the mask down, and adds.

"You know, those masks are only effective for about five minutes."

"Oh, then you might like the garage downstairs," he says, nodding. "It has every vehicle in the history of vehicles down there."

Autor blinks, and then eyes the mask with distaste. "What?" he starts. "I thought these were good for two hours at least!"

"Not unless you got some super space version." Bonnie says. "One of my boys, Dallas, he was with us because his parents had... what's it called... consumption - they would only let him see his folks for five minutes at a time with a mask on."

She looks interested at the prospect of the garage. Though the temptation to tinker may be a bit strong.

Autor wrinkles his nose. "Consumption?" he says, and then shudders. Still, he does half-heartedly pluck the mask off his face. "The garage, if you're looking for it, is through that door and down the elevator--a steel box made of death and falling, I say, though no one ever agrees with me."

He sips his tea. "I bet Bar can give you some nice tools, though they'll go on your tabs board, over there."

"Cain't imagine the owners will be too pleased if I start dismantling cars from the future." Bonnie says, chuckling. "But thank you."

"So does this place 'pick you up' often, or are you stuck here too?"

"No, I haven't been Bound for a while," he says, glancing at his door just in case. "I'm lucky enough to have a door which remains stable for the most part, so I can come and go as I please. Some people remain Bound for a few days; others for weeks or months. Do you have a room here?"

"A room?" Bonnie echos.

"You mean I could be stuck overnight?"

"You could," he says, waving a hand. "I was stuck for months when I first arrived. I think there may be a fund for people who are Bound, but I could be wrong on that. To rent a room, all you need is a key from Bar."

Bonnie hesitates. She's not very well off, a combination of bringing home too many mouths to feed and too much junk to play with.

"Is there any way to earn my keep?"

"I'm sure that someone with your skills will be able to find a job somewhere," he says, raising his cup. "You can advertise on the bulletin board, or pick up odd jobs from other people. I'd worry more about getting settled in first."

"It's a bar, what's the worst that can happen?"

Autor stares at her for a while. "Zombies," he says softly. "Zombies are the worst that can happen."

He drains his tea and sets it down. "This is a place of safety, most of the time, but when it isn't, it really isn't."

"...zombies?"

Autor immediately folds his hands and drops them into his lap. "That's what I said," he says, and then shrugs quickly. "But it's extremely unlikely that they'll come back, and before them it had been a while before a large scale disaster hit."

He twiddles his thumbs. "Really, there's little you need to worry about--the bar is generally a safe space, except when it isn't, and the times when it isn't are rare."

"What do I do if it happens?" Bonnie asks.

She doesn't appear to be entirely terrified, but she is pulling a rather stretched face.

Oh, this is not how Autor expected this introduction to go.

"Depends on the disaster," he says, holding his hands up, palms out. "In the case of the zombies, there were a lot of volunteers to put them down--a great many people here are heavily armed or have special powers. But you don't need to worry too much. Really."