[He gets the first part of this vision, where the Maggie in the vision is disappointed she doesn't get to compete in the Coliseum. Ignore the two gay idiots fighting in the Coliseum]
- Eriks is a teenager in this memory, distinctly much younger than his apparent physical age now, gangly and gawky. he's in what is ostensibly a bedroom but doesn't look quite like it was made to be one originally, the setup around the bed all wrong, most things in the room clean lines of white and metallic gray like the inside of an aircraft. there's some bright photos hung up on a board behind the bed, and a narrow window (porthole???) shows a view of a vast, vast desert outside - a woman with short hair enters and surprises him with a bright red jacket, emblazoned on the sleeve with a logo for something called 'PROJECT SEEDS.' she tells him to think of it as a gift from the whole crew, and he exclaims in surprise, remarking on how hard it is to find intact pre-Fall clothing these days. - he thanks her and tells her that he's happy to be staying with her and the crew; that he's happy they're able to call this place home. - after she leaves, Eriks tries the jacket on, but it's way too big for him. plenty of room to grow into it, he thinks, and looks forward to the future.
[Eriks is quite young in this memory, a skinny eight or nine year old(?) in a thick fleece jacket. he's standing on a steel walkway overlooking a huge bank of high-tech machine pods, hundreds of them in stacked layers, every single one filled with an unconscious human being. all ages and races are represented here. the place is freezing cold, the silence stark and echoing.
he waves out at them, in what is clearly a regular ritual, picking a new set of faces out from the throng to greet, to match against a computerized roster he's memorized with perfect recall. "Good morning, everyone!" he calls into the sleeping vastness. "Good morning Morgan, good morning Jane, good morning Aylee, good morning, good morning!"
he wonders what they're like, what they'll say and do when they finally arrive at their destination and wake up. will they be nice? will they be mean? he thinks they'll be nice like his caretaker. he hopes.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[well--grabs the fruit bowl]
You first or me?
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[He gets the first part of this vision, where the Maggie in the vision is disappointed she doesn't get to compete in the Coliseum. Ignore the two gay idiots fighting in the Coliseum]
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They should've let you for sure, but at least you got a show out of it...?
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You a fighty kinda gal now too?
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[+coffee +cocoa]
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[little does he know, thanks amnesia]
--but my vision guy is, I think, so it gets a guy wonderin.'
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[offers her a watermelon cube]
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[She takes the cube and chomps it curiously]
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- Eriks is a teenager in this memory, distinctly much younger than his apparent physical age now, gangly and gawky. he's in what is ostensibly a bedroom but doesn't look quite like it was made to be one originally, the setup around the bed all wrong, most things in the room clean lines of white and metallic gray like the inside of an aircraft. there's some bright photos hung up on a board behind the bed, and a narrow window (porthole???) shows a view of a vast, vast desert outside
- a woman with short hair enters and surprises him with a bright red jacket, emblazoned on the sleeve with a logo for something called 'PROJECT SEEDS.' she tells him to think of it as a gift from the whole crew, and he exclaims in surprise, remarking on how hard it is to find intact pre-Fall clothing these days.
- he thanks her and tells her that he's happy to be staying with her and the crew; that he's happy they're able to call this place home.
- after she leaves, Eriks tries the jacket on, but it's way too big for him. plenty of room to grow into it, he thinks, and looks forward to the future.
+tea +cocoa]
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[tugs the corner of the outermost of his multiple coats]
Or somethin' like it.
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You wanna do one more switch, or are we good for now?
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[She'll hand him a cube with this skit because she can]
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Well, ya do deserve the two trillion.
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[hands her one more cube]
Here, take this one.
[Eriks is quite young in this memory, a skinny eight or nine year old(?) in a thick fleece jacket. he's standing on a steel walkway overlooking a huge bank of high-tech machine pods, hundreds of them in stacked layers, every single one filled with an unconscious human being. all ages and races are represented here. the place is freezing cold, the silence stark and echoing.
he waves out at them, in what is clearly a regular ritual, picking a new set of faces out from the throng to greet, to match against a computerized roster he's memorized with perfect recall. "Good morning, everyone!" he calls into the sleeping vastness. "Good morning Morgan, good morning Jane, good morning Aylee, good morning, good morning!"
he wonders what they're like, what they'll say and do when they finally arrive at their destination and wake up. will they be nice? will they be mean? he thinks they'll be nice like his caretaker. he hopes.]
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