The exercise:
Write about: packing.
Well, that was a long day. But we're basically packed and ready to load up the car in the morning, save for a few refrigerated items and various bits that we still need to use before we leave the house.
Not sure if I'll have internet access tomorrow night and I'm not up to scheduling a post. So if the blog is quiet until Tuesday, that will be why. Most likely.
I should get some sleep.
Mine:
"Are we forgetting anything?"
"Probably."
"Thanks, that's very helpful."
"Also: truthful. There's no way in hell we're going to remember to bring everything."
"Have a little faith, why don't you?"
"Because that's preposterously unrealistic? Look at all this stuff! Look at where we're going! We are, and I promise you this, guaranteed to get there and realize we didn't bring something we need within, at most, an hour of closing our hotel door behind us."
"Do you reckon the hotel's there have doors?"
"What, you want to bring one of ours? Just in case?"
"Yeah, add it to the list."
2 comments:
How long does it take to pack then? I guess you're packing for an extended stay which takes longer, but all day still seems like quite an effort! I hope the trip is an easy one and that Max sleeps through most of it for you.
Haha, I think your narrator is quite right; you can't trust hotels to have doors. It's always wisest to bring your own, just in case. In fact, I'm taking doors with me to Malta, just to be on the safe side!
Packing
"Face-centred cubic," said Salmander, lifting his head from the microscope. He looked tired, and that wasn't helped by the rings around his eyes that the eyepiece had grooved.
"It can't be," said Malxan. She (the pronouns were all wrong, but trying to explain a seven-sexed race in a language that couldn't even cope with five levels of time-dimensions didn't seem worthwhile). "Stability is all wrong; that should cleave when it's struck by a postitron beam, and we know that it reflects it until we raise the vibration rate to the point where it melts. That's got to be more exotic."
"Take a look for yourself," said Salmander. He pushed himself back from the microscope with three of his arms, and ran a couple of manipulator hands through his head-cilia. "It's an elementary geometric structure, Malx, it's not like it's hard to confuse with anything else."
"I will." Some of the hostility between them was because Malxan was gender-four and Salmander was gender-seven, but the rest was sheer tiredness. The crystalline glass that the microscope was looking at was the problem: the exact nature in which its molecules packed together determined its physical properties, but they were all coming out wrong. And the glass was spreading like Vonnegutian ice, endangering the colony. Malxan peered into the microscope, huffed, and started changing the magnfication factors. Salmander said nothing; he'd already tried the same things six times himself.
"Face-centred cubic," said Malxan after ten minutes. "Nothing I can do will change that."
"So let's look at the postitronic-beam generator," said Salmander. He didn't sound hopeful. "Maybe that's not doing what we're expecting."
"Really?"
"No." He sighed. "But something's not right here, and we have to find out what it is."
Greg - if I recall correctly, which I'm probably not, there were several errands that needed to be taken care of in addition to packing our stuff. Plus with Max around... everything takes longer than it should.
Fascinating piece here. I'm intrigued and would like to know what happens next. Appreciate the unexpected take on the prompt as well :)
I think I'm done for the night, and the year, so... Happy New Year! Wishing you all the best in 2016 and hoping that Malta treats you well.
Good night!
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