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rmelster · 2 days ago

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Hairstyles and hats, ca. 1830: part 1

Another gigantic fashion post today.

Hair, hair, hair. Let’s talk about hair. It’s such an important marker of beauty in any given period, for men as well but especially for women. I always figured this is why historical movies can be so reluctant to portray women in period hairstyles if those hairstyles happen to conflict with modern standards of beauty. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a period flick and been so impressed with the work of the costume designer, only to have their meticulous efforts spoiled by the shoddy hair and makeup design.

^^^Yep, you too, Les Mis movie. What is with this hair??? My modern eyes say, “hey, it’s cute,” and my 1830s eyes say, “wtf is this bedhead? put your hair up, girl!”

This seems to be a thing for actresses more than actors, and I don’t know whether it’s the actresses who demand that they not be “uglied” up, or the director, or the hair designer him/herself, but whoever it is needs to grow up and realize that hot women will still be hot in 1830s sausage curls and apollo knots, and hot men will still be hot in mutton chops and under-the-chin beards. Sorry, /end rant. But really, movie industry, can we get on this?

So, ca. 1830 ladies’ hair. The most stereotypical image of this period’s hairstyles is the ringlets on the sides and the coiffure à la chinoise up the back, garnished with all kinds of wild shit, from real flowers to tortoiseshell combs, from lace veils to ostrich plumes, from strings of pearls to turbans:

Coiffure à la chinoise is a hairstyle accomplished by pulling the majority of the (very long) hair tightly back and twisting it up into huge loops on top of the head. This political cartoon (which I’ll discuss at more length some other time, because it is awesome) shows the scalp-tugging process of hairdressing:

Professional hairdressing was mostly a men’s occupation ca. 1830, though many ladies’ maids were also used to do a lady’s hair on a day-to-day basis. The professional hairdresser would make house-calls for special occasion hairdos, especially for very wealthy clients, but he also worked out of a brick-and-mortar shop. These hairdressing salons, much like those of today, were usually located in fancy shopping districts, especially the upscale shopping galleries like the Galerie Vivienne or the Passage des Panoramas (more on these in a later post–I love 1830s shopping galleries). The professional hairdresser advertised through fashion plates, which often give the name both of the dressmaker and the hairdresser whose fashions are being featured. There are also fashion plates just for hairstyles or hat styles, which show a front and back view for each. The hairdresser’s art was just that: an art. His hairstyles were living works of art, statues sitting on top of a lady’s head, and he could command fees accordingly. He would be employed either by the very wealthy or for special events. Less wealthy women could have their maids do their hair, or else do it themselves.

The typical process of 1830 hairdressing began by parting the hair into three sections: one shorter one on each side of the forehead and one longer one in the back. The hair’s part is sometimes located in the center, sometimes on the side, and sometimes v-shaped, like this:

The side sections are curled into ringlets with curling tongs (or else with curling papers or cloths), while the back section is yanked (painfully) into those loops and braids and pinned into place. Pomade is used to keep the hair on top and in the back smooth and straight and shiny. Lots of fake hair pieces are used, too, since of course not everyone is equally endowed, hair-wise.

^^^Here are some mid-19th century false curls mounted on a ribbon, to be tied on the head.

^^^This is another set of ca. 1830 false curls, with its own storage box and all! Of course, when I say “false,” I don’t mean the hair: it’s real human hair. This is the sort of thing that Fantine’s glorious blonde hair would have gone towards making. There are also fake hairpieces for the back of the hair, fake curls, fake loops, fake braids, and so on, but I haven’t yet come across any surviving examples. Female Enjolras would have had to make generous use of these when dressing as a woman, since her hair is cut short for her masculine disguise. (Oh Jesus, let’s not consider the possibility of a side story where female Enjolras ends up unwittingly using hairpieces made from Fantine’s hair…………O__O)

^^^Another late 1830s hairpiece. Most of these fake hairpieces would be intended to be used underneath a morning cap or turban, with just the curls sticking out the front, like so:

This makes it a little easier to see how the fake curls could be tied on with a ribbon or fixed with a net and still not be too obvious.

Back to the coiffure à la chinoise. This style supposedly got its name because 1820s/30s people thought it looked like the traditional hairstyles of Chinese women. (I can kinda see that…..? Though really it looks more like the traditional topknot of Chinese men.) The giant hair loops of the coiffure à la chinoise are sometimes called “apollo knots” as well, though really that applies better to loops like these ladies have, which are imitations of those seen on antique Greek statues of Apollo:

These ladies also have hair pins shaped like a “cupid’s arrow,” which seems to have been a trend at one point:

There are plenty of apollo knots and chinoise hairdos in this period, but really, the hairstyles of the late 1820s/early 1830s are actually quite varied, much more so than I thought before I started researching this stuff. The size and number of the curls, whether they are pinned up on the head or allowed to fall in ringlets alongside the face, or whether there are even curls at all; whether the back of the hair is pulled into loops, swept up in ringlets, braided into a crown shape, and whether it’s decorated with feathers, braids, beads, pearls, hair combs, pins, flowers, veils, ribbons, etc.–all of these points vary widely, sometimes from year to year, but also within each year, according to the individual’s taste.

I’m just going to put up a bunch of hairstyles from between 1825 and 1835, and you can see the wide variety for yourselves:

Remember, all of these examples are from 1825-1835. The smoother, sleeker styles generally tend to be towards the end of this period, and the curlier styles towards the beginning of the period, but sleek styles appear in the late ‘20s and curly styles appear into the ‘40s, so it’s hard to generalize. All the beauty in variety!

#Keeping this for reasons

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rmelster · 3 days ago

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oh my AAAA. This chapter was fire. Wow, I feel so bad for Daniel and Maura, and I can’t imagine the pain and grief they endured, experiencing something that, while it’s not very “common”, still happens too much: the loss of a child. And that darned Ciaran! I wonder what motives he has, if he does have them. Henry’s awful too, I can imagine him engaging in some of creepy stuff, Russian sleep experiment kind of thing with his patients, which I imagine also to be very mistreated people in need or helpless outcasts, as most victims of inhumane experiments tend to be. I wonder what time period they all come from; though I guess everything points out present / present-ish times, the last “haven” we see Daniel and Maura in during the show kind of reminded of the mid 70s, but that may have been just me (or maybe it was intended for that fictional nooks to resemble past romanticised times?). Evil Van Gogh is at it again! (and with major words I see 🤣). Damn, Maura is very brave. I don’t know how can she gather the bravery to go back to her unconscious state again, much less knowing (or not knowing) what that guy Ciaran will do to her once she drifts back to the illusions. I feel for Daniel a lot, specially with him seeing how his hopes of getting something done and having Maura semi-awake are crushed with this ending.

TL;DR: I LOVED IT

2099

The Brain is just the weight of God For heft them, pound for pound, And they will differ, if they do As syllable from sound

~ Emily Dickinson (1862)

1.2 = THE LIE

For a while, they simply hug. She breathes in the scent of him, different and yet, on some subconscious level, as familiar as her own. She can feel the release of tension shuddering through his body.

“He had me locked in there,” he says plaintively. “Your brother…”

“I’m so sorry. You’re safe now.” She examines his face, then his hands, wiping the blood off his knuckles. “We’re together. Whatever’s going on here, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The green bug is still scuttling around in her hand; she passes it to him, and he puts it safely in his pocket.

“He took it,” Daniel mourns, “My Shell - my device. It’s gone. I’m useless without it.”

“No, you’re not.”

She kisses his cheek, his temple, his forehead - trying to kiss away her own fears as well as his.

“Daniel,” she whispers, “Am I still dreaming? Am I really awake? My brother - he spoke to me on the computer. He told me this is real life.”

“He’s lying. Science-fiction was always his favourite genre - I recognise this concept as one of his. Interstellar migration in the year 2099.”

“This is a simulation too?”

“Yes,” Daniel says, but there is a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“So is there still a time loop?”

“Most likely.”

“He was probably hoping the loop would catch us by surprise, and we would be re-set without putting up a fight. But there has to be another exit, doesn’t there? Another pyramid?” Desperately, she shows him the ring on her finger. “I still have the key - the code you gave me. I can use it again.”

“No. It’s a decoy. Ciaran rewrote it. Even if we find a pyramid, the only place it’ll lead you is straight back here.”

“Bastard…”

“When I realised the key had sent you to a different simulation, I tried to follow you. I was crawling through the utility chases when suddenly the air went thick and I couldn’t breathe. Ciaran must’ve done something to the ventilation. I passed out, and when I woke up, I was in that box.”

“Did you see him in person?”

“No, only words on a screen.”

“You’re alright now,” she assures him, “But we need to get to the others. The other passengers - they’re still asleep.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Yes. I woke up in a room full of people. It was some kind of…passengers’ quarters, I suppose. But instead of cabins, there were these machines, like pods. And everyone was asleep. I couldn’t wake them.”

“They’re still dreaming. Can you take me to them?”

“I don’t know if I can find my way back there, to be honest. I walked for so long, I was completely lost…then your green bug found me and led me to you. I should’ve tried to leave a trail of markers, but I was too overwhelmed by everything. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find the way.”

“Have you been here before?”

“No. I do recognise the basic design from when it was in development, but I’ve never been inside it before. A lot’s probably changed since then. Ciaran was the one overseeing the creative team, so he must know it like the back of his hand.”

“Well, nothing will be solved by standing here. Let’s go.”

The pair begin to walk, as briskly as they can in their tired state. Maura leads the way, doing her best to retrace her steps, but the rooms are so similar in layout and aesthetic that it’s impossible for her to be certain. At the first port-hole they pass, Daniel pauses, arrested by the cosmos outside; but quickly moves on. The sight of Space and the concept of interstellar flight are much more familiar to him than to her - a twentieth century mind versus a nineteenth century one.

The further they walk, the more she feels the same sense of hopelessness creeping up on her - a lack of direction, of progress, as if they are suspended in time, going nowhere. Daniel cranks open another heavy door, grunting from the effort, while Maura watches. She stares at his dark hair.

“Can we stop?” she asks quietly.

“Why?”

“I just want to…stop.”

“Okay.”

She sits down on the raised threshold, drawing up her knees.

“Tell me what happened to us,” she says, “Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”

“It won’t be easy to hear.”

“Please. I’m sick of tricks and illusion. I need the truth. I need answers.”

He sits beside her.

“You really are Maura Franklin - that much is true,” he says, “But you used to be Maura Singleton. Daughter of a brilliant and famed neuroscientist. After your mother died, your father…changed. He was always career-focused, but the loss made him obsessed - obsessed with behavioural research…with experiments. Human trials. What he did to his subjects was exploitative, bordering on inhumane. The accusations of abuse piled up, and his company was shuttered. Your relationship broke down, and you changed your surname to Franklin - your mother’s maiden name.”

Daniel stops, trying not to bombard her with information. Maura breathes deeply, exhales with force.

“Okay,” she says, “Tell me more.”

“Our paths crossed alongside our careers. You me, and your brother. I was a cybersecurity technician, and you were a neurologist, and your brother was a Virtual Reality programmer and designer. When we realised how much potential we had, and what we could accomplish if we joined forces, the three of us started a company. Together, we created the world’s most advanced VR program - a program which would enable people to fully immerse themselves in a simulated world, and to interact with artificial intelligences, whether it be historical figures, fictional characters, or dead loved ones. Ciaran suggested we call it Prometheus, because he felt like we were ushering in a new era for humanity. An era of limitless opportunity.”

“We built all of this together?” she marvels, “I can hardly believe that I was capable of that…”

“Oh, trust me. You were capable of so much more. You had the most brilliant mind I’d ever seen.”

Hearing the warmth and love in his voice, Maura is able to smile a little. Then the smile fades.

“I assume it all fell apart,” she says, “What happened?”

“Well, we couldn’t agree on what the technology should be used for. You and I saw it as a medical procedure, a way to help people forget their trauma and grief, even if it was only temporary. Your brother saw it as an entertainment medium, a way to construct fantastical new worlds with no creative limitations. And your father…your father saw it as an opportunity.”

“An opportunity to do what?”

“After his own company shut down, he was left with nothing. He was desperate to carry on his research, but he had no funding, no staff, no premises. And when he saw what we’d built - what you’d built - he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted in on Prometheus. So you hired him behind the scenes.”

“I enabled him?” Maura says in horror.

“Don’t blame yourself. When your mother fell ill and died, you were stricken with guilt. You kept asking yourself if there was something you could’ve done to help her, to fix her. Henry took advantage of that guilt. He convinced you that his research, as controversial as it was, could heal thousands of people. Besides, he was your father, and despite everything he’d done, part of you still trusted him and loved him.”

“So the other people on the Kerberos…the other passengers…Are they his patients? My patients?”

“Yes. All of them were victims and survivors. Traumatised people who wanted to heal - to forget. They came to us for help.”

Maura clenches her hands.

“Tell me where it went wrong,” she says, even though she dreads the answer.

“You and I had a child. A son, Elliot. He was perfect. He was everything. But then he got sick and our lives just…stopped.”

Daniel’s voice trembles, and he struggles to speak.

“Please,” Maura says, “Please continue.”

“The playroom was our escape. A little home away from home. It was a place where we could spend time together, just the three of us, and Elliot could feel like he was healthy and normal again.”

Tears start to run from Daniel’s brown eyes, but he soldiers on.

“As he deteriorated, so did you. You couldn’t bear to watch his illness progress, so you started spending more and more time in the playroom, and less and less time in the real world. Less time with me. You wanted Elliot to be asleep and in a simulation when he died, so that he wouldn’t have to suffer. You even gave him the black syringe to make him forget he was ill.”

For a moment, he is unable to contain his grief.

“Our son was dying, and you left me alone to deal with it. While you were busy playing with him in an imaginary world, I was talking to the doctors. I had to sit there and hold his hand while he stopped breathing, knowing he couldn’t even feel me, couldn’t even hear me, because he was trapped in a dream with you.”

They both sob. Daniel manages to gather himself.

“Elliot was gone, but the digital construction of him remained, and you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of it. You carried on spending time with him like nothing had happened. I should’ve stopped you - I should’ve persuaded you to get help - but instead I enabled you. Our family was broken and our marriage was crumbling, and I thought if I just went along with everything you wanted, you would love me again. I was a selfish coward. You were spiralling, and I just stood there and watched.”

“You were grieving too,” Maura says. “You needed support as much as I did.”

Daniel roughly brushes away his tears with his sleeve.

“Anyway,” he says, “The company couldn’t wait for us indefinitely. People had invested millions of dollars in our work, and they wanted to see results. Your father pressured you into stepping aside as CEO, so that operations could resume. He was probably hoping that you would put him in charge, but you chose Ciaran instead.”

“I was between the devil and the deep blue sea.”

“Exactly. But at the time, there was no reason to suspect that Ciaran would ever act against our interests. He had a different opinion about how the simulations should be used and presented, but as far as we knew, he was loyal.”

“After everything he’s done, I struggle to imagine a time when I ever trusted him.”

“Me too. But soon after he became CEO, you had a falling out. He was frustrated at having to run everything by himself, and he was worried about you and your mental health. But he expressed it…poorly. He’s never had the best interpersonal skills, and being your little brother, maybe he thought he didn’t need to mince words.”

“Oh God,” Maura laughs weakly, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “What did he say?”

“Nothing nice. He said you were a coward for running from your problems, and that you needed to wake up and face reality. He said you should delete both Elliot and the playroom, so that you could finally move on. But when he suggested that, you almost attacked him. You told him never to show his face again.”

“And did he?”

“No. He packed up his office, moved the company headquarters to New York, and left us behind. You agreed to come back to work in a reduced capacity, but things just weren’t the same. As far as I know, you haven’t seen each other since.”

“Did I regret that?”

“I think so. I don’t know.”

Maura groans and rubs her damp face.

“If we hadn’t quarrelled, would any of this be happening? Would he still have turned against us?” she wonders.

“Who knows? I’ve always had trouble getting a read on Ciaran.”

“What is he actually like?”

“That’s the funny thing - I don’t really know. We worked together for fifteen years. There were periods when we would see each other every day and talk for hours. Sometimes he stayed at our place. Yet we were never close, and he never shared any part of himself beyond his work. It’s like he was so consumed by his job that he had no room for anything else - no relationships, no interests, no feelings.”

Maura isn’t sure why, but she feels a twinge of sadness.

“What about the Kerberos? 1899? How did I end up there?”

“I thought time would start to heal our pain, but instead, you fell deeper into depression. The simulations were no longer your passion, but your obsession. You became fixated on one in particular - 1899. You were always fascinated with the nineteenth century - the transition between old and new technology, old and new medicine, old and new science. Curie, Blackwell, Lovelace, Anning - they were some of your childhood heroes. That world became your only escape from your grief.”

Daniel waits patiently while she processes his words, then carries on:

“When you decided to stay in 1899, I went in to stop you. I tried to persuade you to change your mind. I begged you to come back to the real world. But Henry tried to stop me. He wanted to let you stay in there, to see what you would do. To him, it was just another experiment, another opportunity to pick apart the human brain. He even joined the simulation himself, so that he could observe you more closely.”

Daniel’s voice shakes.

“You were desperate to believe that Elliot was a real boy, not just a digital ghost - but as long as he had self-awareness, the illusion would never be convincing. So you erased his memory, so that he would believe he was really alive; and then you erased your own memory, so that you would believe the same.”

“I did that to myself?”

“Yes. Your and Henry’s job was to execute both the memory loss and memory restoration protocols, via an interface made to resemble a syringe. Instead, you turned the syringe on yourself. And Henry…well, he saw no reason to reverse the damage.”

“My God…”

“You forgot everything. You truly believed that you were a woman living in the nineteenth century, on her way to a better life in New York. But by doing so, you trapped everyone else who was also participating in the simulation.”

“I did this to them?” she says in quiet dismay, “I’m the one who put them here?”

She looks down at her hands - a doctor’s hands, bearing the heaviest responsibility for the lives of others - and unconsciously rubs the wedding ring on her finger.

“You weren’t thinking straight,” Daniel quickly tells her, “I’ve known you for fifteen years, and been your husband for twelve. I know how important your patients’ safety and wellbeing is to you, and I know for a fact that you would never deliberately put them at risk. You weren’t in your right mind.”

She looks in his eyes and sees that he means every word; yet she can’t shake the feeling that he’s just trying to spare her.

“The more I learn about myself, the less I recognise the person I thought I was. I don’t know who I am any more.”

Daniel reaches out and brushes the side of her face with his fingers, tucking her short hair behind her ear in a fond caress. Then he rests his forehead against hers. Their eyes close.

“You are Maura Franklin,” he murmurs. “Born in Morefield. You are a scientist, a mother, and the love of my life. You are not crazy.”

“Whether I knew what I was doing or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m still the one who trapped them. I’m still the one to blame.”

In an effort to distract her from this line of thought, Daniel continues:

“Henry was the only exception. He came into the simulation as an observer, not a participant, so he retained all of his memories. But he still needed to get out. He knew that the key was somewhere on the ship, but he didn’t know where. He built himself an office and a computer bank from which he could observe everyone and everything…spy on them, study them…”

“What about you? Did you become trapped too?”

“No, I was spared. I was never a participant, only a visitor. I designed most of the security systems myself, and I knew the back-doors like the back of my hand. So I was able to come and go using ways only I knew.”

For a moment, Daniel looks almost proud. But then his face darkens.

“That’s where Ciaran came in. He didn’t want you or Henry to wake up. He said you were better off staying in the simulation. When I refused to cooperate, he had me fired from the company and barred from the premises.”

“Why? Why would he do this to us?”

“Opportunism. He’s always made it clear that he has a different vision for the company - a different opinion on how the technology should be used. But he was always outnumbered. With you, me, and Henry effectively gone, he saw a chance to make his vision a reality. It was the perfect opportunity - the only opportunity - for him to take control.”

“But to go to such lengths…Even if he hates me, how could he allow the others to stay trapped, suffering…?”

“Only he can answer that.”

“Then we’ll find him and make him answer. How did you manage to access the simulation? If he had you barred…”

“I didn’t give up. I kept finding ways to infiltrate the system, and I kept trying to make you remember. I can’t tell you how many times I failed…You had no idea who I was. To you, I was nothing more than a stranger who was acting bizarrely - why would you believe a word that came out of my mouth? But through trial and error, I finally got through to you. I ended the simulation.”

“So 1899…the Kerberos…the virtual constructs…they’re completely gone? Every trace of them?”

“Yes. The virus I introduced forced the whole simulation to self-destruct.”

“And Elliot…did he…” Maura can’t bear to finish the sentence.

“He’s gone. 1899 was the only place where his simulated consciousness still clung on. When it was deleted, he…”

Maura starts to cry. He rubs her arm, gently squeezes it.

“He was a ghost, Maura. Our son has been dead for two years.”

“I know. It just hurts. I wish we could’ve brought him with us, somehow. At least we could’ve spent more time together.”

“You did. You don’t remember it, but you spent so much time together. And he enjoyed so much of it.”

She draws a deep breath to steel herself.

“And the way out?”

“Elliot’s toy pyramid was the key, and your locket held the code needed to activate it. Henry took the locket from you and tried to activate the pyramid, but it didn’t work…I’d reprogrammed it. I’d transferred the exit code to your ring instead. But Ciaran was always one step ahead of me. He’d already re-written the code. Instead of waking up in the real world, you woke up here instead.”

Daniel puts his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried to save you - to save all of us - but all I did was trap us in another nightmare. I failed. Again.”

“No, you didn’t. I might not be awake, but my eyes are open.”

Daniel musters a smile, grateful for her support. Maura looks around the dark ship, and a new thought occurs to her.

“Wait…if my father is a victim too, then where is he? Shouldn’t he be in a pod, sleeping like the others?”

“I’m not sure…”

“We have to find him. He might know something we don’t, or have some kind of special access…something that might help us…anything.”

“This place is massive. If there are other stasis rooms scattered throughout, it could take days to find them, and we don’t have that long.” Daniel stands up and offers her his hand. “We should keep going. We can talk more later.”

She grasps his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. He kisses her tenderly. Their lips are dry, but she doesn’t mind; his kiss is gentle and full of love. Softly, he says:

“Let’s go.”

As they creep through the ship, Maura starts to recognise their surroundings more. Knowing that they are nearing their destination, they quicken their pace, travelling with renewed urgency. Passing through the cafeteria, Maura points to an empty table.

“There was a cup of coffee there. It’s gone now.”

“Ciaran must be somewhere on this ship. Him, or someone under his control.”

“Scurrying around in the shadows. I hate the thought.”

Finally, they make it to the stasis room. Daniel stares around at the sleeping figures in their metal sarcophagi, scanning their faces, perhaps taking note of who’s here and who isn’t. He picks up the discarded piece of paper and reads the message on it.

“Do you think you can wake them up?” Maura asks.

“Without a Shell? I don’t know.”

He turns the paper over to check if there’s anything written on the back, then uses the little strip of tape to stick it on a wall. He inspects the large computer hub occupying the middle of the room.

“Theoretically I could, but I don’t know how long it’ll take. Thousands of lines of code will need to be manually rewritten. Most of the people on this ship will be virtual constructs, just artificial characters designed to make the world feel more populated. But there are almost two-dozen real people that we know of, each of whom will have to be dealt with individually. And we don’t have that long.”

“Okay…” Maura runs her fingertips over the dusty panels of the computer, “What if, instead of destroying the dream world from the inside, we sabotage the machine itself? After all, it’s what’s keeping them asleep, right? If we cause a powercut in this part of the ship, shouldn’t everyone wake up automatically?”

“No. This machine is their life-support system and what enables them to go in and out of a dream state. Without it, they’d be left stuck in whatever simulation they’re in, with no way of waking up. They’d just waste away until the time loop undoes all our actions.”

“In that case, we’d better start with the manual solution. You mentioned rewriting code - is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m not sure. I trust you and I know you’re a fast learner, but one error might kill them…”

Daniel crouches to peer at the hundreds of cables plugged into the computer. But before he can do a thorough examination, they are interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of approaching feet. A man’s footsteps, heavy and brisk. Daniel and Maura look at each other.

“Ciaran?” she whispers.

The door slides open, and into the room steps a bearded man - not Ciaran, but Sebastian, the First Mate of the Kerberos. His ginger hair is as smoothly slicked as before, though his moustache has somewhat lost the elegant styling of the late nineteenth century.

“Hello, Miss Franklin,” he says calmly.

Daniel steps in front of Maura, instinctively shielding her.

“What do you want?” he demands.

Sebastian ignores him.

“Frau, I have a message from your brother. He would like you to return to your stasis pod so that the voyage can continue with no further interruptions..”

“What about Daniel?”

“The companion stays here.”

“Daniel and I won’t be separated again,” Maura snaps, “Tell my brother: if he wants to give me a message, he can come and talk to me himself. He can stand here, look me in the eye, and explain why he’s doing this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Sebastian informs her, “You either climb into the pod or I force you.”

“Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Daniel says.

Sebastian looks him up and down with an expression of disgust.

“Fotze,” he mutters. Turning his attention back to Maura, he says, “Don’t be foolish, Miss Franklin. Your brother doesn’t appreciate all the trouble you’ve been causing. You shouldn’t test his patience.”

“Sebastian, listen. I don’t know what arrangement you have with Ciaran, but you can’t trust him. He’s a liar and a coward who hides in the shadows and toys with people from behind screens. Why throw your lot in with him?”

Sebastian sighs and pulls out a Shell. He points it at Daniel, who flinches.

“Move away from her,” the First Mate orders, and Daniel has no choice but to obey.

With his free hand, Sebastian produces a black syringe and tosses it to Maura. She catches it instinctively.

“Use it and get in the pod,” Sebastian says impatiently. “Now! I don’t want to hurt you. Your brother wouldn’t approve of it.”

“Sebastian, stop. Just stop.”

“Get in or I delete the Daniel program.”

Maura looks at Daniel, then at the syringe in her hand, then at her empty pod. With every second that she spends dithering, the risk increases. She steps towards the pod.

“No,” Daniel says, “Maura, don’t.”

“Wake me up when you can,” she says.

“Maura, no! Please. Don’t do it,” Daniel begs her.

She hesitates, but the Shell in Sebastian’s hand remains pointed squarely at Daniel. She backs into the stasis pod. Sucking in a deep breath to steel herself against the pain, she jabs the syringe into the tattooed triangle on her neck and pushes down on the plunger.

“No!”

Before she has time to change her mind, she drops the half-empty syringe, grabs the electrode-bearing contraption above her, and jams it down onto her head.

“Maura!”

youtube

A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes I screamed aloud as it tore through them And now it’s left me blind

The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You’ve left me in the dark No dawn, no day I’m always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

And in the dark I can hear your heartbeat I tried to find the sound But then it stopped And I was in the darkness So darkness I became

The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You’ve left me in the dark No dawn, no day I’m always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you

The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You’ve left me in the dark No dawn, no day I’m always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

#2099 #1899 #Also a lot of technology and programming vocabulary :D

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