#*sighs* me with Dr. Hilbert

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 9 - “The Empty Man Cometh”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

Eiffel: This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, recording from the comms room of the USS Hephaestus Station. Welcome to day five thirty of our little camping trip to the Leo constellation.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: And, you’re just in time for today’s weather.

Hera: [over announcement system] Attention, crew members. It seems that the ion wind cluster that I’ve been monitoring for the past twelve hours is veering towards us after all.

Eiffel: [sighs in frustration] Balls.

Hera: I hoped to avoid any direct contact with this anomaly but, its path is shifting faster than I can adjust our trajectory. And it’s now in a direct intercept vector. Please take a moment to ensure that all precautionary measures we discussed earlier have been properly implemented. The interior environment of the Hephaestus should remain largely undisturbed, but brace yourselves for light turbulence and impaired functionality in some of our electrical systems for the next three and a half hours. Thank you.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: I swear to god. If it’s not a passing comet, it’s a solar flare. If it’s not a flare, it’s a geomagnetic storm. Now it’s an ion wind! Who knows there could be so much freaking weather without an atmosphere?

[door opening]

Minkowski: Eiffel. You locked down the solar panels this afternoon, right? I want to make sure that we’re ready for whatever this ion wind thing can throw our way.

Eiffel: Can we... ever really be... ready for anything, Commander?

Minkowski: I just want to know if we’re safe.

Eiffel: Define... safe.

Minkowski: Eiffel, come on. It’s a simple question.

Eiffel: Or... is it?

[pause]

Minkowski: Are you done now?

Eiffel: Yeah, I think it ran its course.

Minkowski: Did you have fun?

Eiffel: Eh... not really. Low hanging fruit. But yeah, I closed up the panels this morning, and double-checked to make sure they’re set about an hour ago. Hatches are battened down.

Minkowski: Oh. Good. Might just get through this without too much damage.

Eiffel: Riders on the storm, man. Riders on the storm.

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Eiffel: Woah, haven’t heard that one in a while.

Minkowski: What is that?

Eiffel: Pulse beacon relay receptor. Basically, one way space fax. Looks like something’s coming down the pipeline from out friends over at Canaveral.

Minkowski: We’re getting a message from Command?

Eiffel: It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Whatever happened to those weekly calls from mom and dad?

Minkowski: What’s it say?

Eiffel: Decoding trans-galactic transmissions ain’t like dustin’ crops, farm girl. Give me a moment.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Here we go, let’s see. [clears throat] “The golden rose is ready for melting. Proceed with designation alpha. Beware, five, the empty man has awoken”?

[pause]

Minkowski: What? Gimme that. Well that makes no sense. You must have transcoded it wrong.

Eiffel: Uh-uh. Well I won’t deny that’s totally something that could theoretically happen, if there’d been a transcription error, we wouldn’t be looking at words. We’d have like, I don’t know, random strings of ampersands and sevens. I don’t know what they’re playing at. This is the message Command wanted us to have.

Minkowski: But it makes no sense.

Eiffel: Uh, yeah. I’m kind of relieved we agree about that.

Minkowski: Well, can we radio them and ask for a clarification?

Eiffel: Unfortunately, the good folks at Goddard Futuristics spared every expense when they put this boat together. We only get high-speed cable vision for the incoming. We’re still on dial-up for the outgoing. We can send something, but it’ll take about two weeks to get a message back to Earth. And that’s if this ion thing doesn’t slow it down.

Minkowski: So then, what the hell are we supposed to do with this?

Eiffel: Hang on, I’ve got an idea.

[open intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Dr. Hilbert, you copy?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Loud and clear, Eiffel. What is it?

Eiffel: The words “golden rose”, or “designation alpha”, mean anything to you?

Hilbert: [over intercom] What? Why?

Eiffel: We just got a weird-ass telex from Command, we’re trying to make heads or tails of it.

Minkowski: Read him the other thing, the thing about the man.

Eiffel: Oh yeah, uh... “The empty man has awoken.” Ring any gongs?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Afraid not, Eiffel. Not entirely sure what that could be a reference to.

Eiffel: Hm, well, worth a shot.

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Eiffel: Oh, uh, un momento, por favor, Doctor Hilberto. Looks like we’re getting another wire.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Alright, let’s see. “The Andromedas are broken. The northern light should be reversed. Alert four. The empty man approaches.” [pause] Have like a whole bunch of drugs been made legal while we’ve been up here? Am I missing out on that?

Minkowski: Alright. Hang on. Let’s look at this thing rationally. So the first two sentences of both of those messages make completely no sense, right?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Right.

Eiffel: Right.

Minkowski: Right. But then second halves followed a pattern. It’s a warning. Then something about this, “empty man”. Whatever that is.

Eiffel: Yeah. And then there’s the numbers. Five on the first one, and four on the second one.

Hilbert: [over intercom] A countdown, maybe?

Eiffel: What happens when we run out of numbers? [pause] The empty man... cometh?

[pause]

Minkowski: Look. For the time being, we have no idea what these messages mean, so let’s not get worked up about them. If Command is trying to... warn us about something, there’s not much we can do about it just from these messages. So let’s focus on what we do know is real, like this ion cloud that we’re about to go through, alright?

Eiffel: Yeah.

Hilbert: [over intercom] Indeed.

Eiffel: Good plan.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [clears throat] “The frozen pages are blank. Decide what to do with the time that is given to you. Emergency three. The empty man hungers.”

[pause]

Minkowski: On... second thought... I’m gonna inspect the armoury to make sure that all of our stores are in good working order.

Hilbert: [over intercom] And I’m going to run few security checks on our airlock perimeter.

Eiffel: Right. Yeah. Good plans. I’m just gonna... uh, hold down the fort here. I guess. Um, one second, dear listeners.

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: Hi again folks. It’s been about three hours since I turned off the recorder, and things have been pretty… quiet. Minkowski and Hilbert have been checking the station’s systems, making sure that nothing is too far out of the norm. [pause] They’ve locked up all of the airlocks, and access points, so we should be... pretty safe? Based on our… limited perception of safety.

[door opens and closes]

Minkowski: Alright, just finished our third sweep through the station, and everything is locked up tight.

Hilbert: The sensory alarm system is calibrated to its most sensitive setting. If anything other than ourselves moves throughout the station, we should know about it.

Minkowski: And, I’ve retrieved two of the handguns from the armoury, so if and when this “empty man” thing shows up, we should be ready for it.

Eiffel: Only two guns? There’s three of us.

Minkowski: Hilbert’s not a trained marksman, and I’m not putting a gun in the hand of a civilian just yet. It’s you and me, Doug.

Eiffel: Oh great. The full hoo-ah.

[ship creaks]

Eiffel: What the hell was that?

Minkowski: Easy, Eiffel. We’re hitting the worst of the ion winds. That’s our scheduled turbulence. How’re you doing, Hera?

Hera: A-Acceptable, Commander, although certain systems are beginning to show signs of strain.

Minkowski: Do your best to keep things under control. Let us know if anything goes seriously wrong.

Eiffel: Hey, on the plus side, at least we haven’t had any other messages from Command, so maybe this whole thing is just blown –

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Hilbert: You had to say something. You had to open your mouth.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [sighs] “The broken flower is in the vase. Don’t listen to your eyes. Danger. Two. The empty man sees you.” [pause] Okay, officially now, what the hell? What’s coming towards us? What – What is this apparently indescribable thing?

Minkowski: Don’t freak. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re still on a space station, eight light-years away from Earth, things can’t just show up on our doorstep.

Eiffel: You know, Commander, that would be a pretty good argument, if we didn’t have a crazy plant monster living in our air vents! Or, if we didn’t get weird whispers when we lost power! Honestly, there’s a lot of stuff that goes down around here that really shouldn’t be possible, but here we are!

Hilbert: Hera! Are there any objects or crafts on approach vector towards the Hephaestus?

Hera: ... No, Dr. Hilbert. Not... at the moment.

Minkowski: Hera? You don’t sound very confident.

Hera: Well, the ion winds are interfering with my sensory instruments, and my visibility of the airspace around the Hephaestus is down to eighty-one percent. Nothing is showing up on my sensory input, but I’m working with blind spots. [pause] However, the possibility of an object being nearby is... mathematically unlikely.

Eiffel: Mathematically unlikely? That’s the best we can do right now?

Hera: I’m sorry, I’m dealing with a rather extreme weather condition here. And a boarding party isn’t exactly something I prepped for this morning. Visibility down to fifty-six percent.

Eiffel: [sighs] This just keeps getting better and better.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: “There’s no way out. There’s no way out. But there is a way in. Danger. One. The empty man shall knock.”

[pause]

Eiffel and Minkowski, at once: Hera?

Hera: Still at zero sensory contact. Visibility down to thirty-seven percent.

Eiffel: Is there... anything we can do to get out of here? Can we... put the station in reverse and back out of this cloud, or something?

Minkowski: Hera’s already using all of her engine power to compensate for the ion winds. If we tried to change course now, we might end up in –

Hilbert: [whispered] Shh! Quiet! Don’t you hear that?

[distant sound of rhythmic creaking]

Eiffel: What was that?

Hilbert: Could just be side effect of the ion winds. We’re going through the worst of it now. It might be exerting enough energy on the ship to cause temperature fluctuation. It could just be metal in the ship’s hull expanding a bit.

Eiffel. There are a lot of “could”s in that explanation, Doctor.

Minkowski: [whispered] Hera. Is anything going on with our hull?

Hera: ... Not... as far as I can tell, Commander, but visibility is down to nine percent. I’m basically flying blind for the next few minutes.

[hiss of escaping air]

Hilbert: [whispered] Just the Hephaestus compensating for the weather conditions. Atmospheric regulators, parametric stabilisers, all just doing their job. It’s all regular noises in process of keeping interior of the Hephaestus warm and stable environment.

Minkowski: [whispered] Are... you... sure about that, Doctor?

Hilbert: [whispered]...No. But I like the sound of my voice better than the sounds of what’s going on out there.

[rhythmic clinking of metal]

Minkowski: [whispered] Hilbert. Thoughts?

Hilbert: [whispered] Well. That sounded like one of two things. Option one: simply the hull cooling after coming into contact with a... unusually warm pocket of gas that’s been swept up in the wake of the ion winds.

Eiffel: [whispered] What are the odds of that being the case, Doctor?

[pause]

Hilbert: [whispered] Within the realm of the possible? Barely.

[rhythmic clinking of metal]

[pause]

Minkowski: [whispered] What’s the other option?

Hilbert: [whispered] Something’s walking on the outside of the Hephaestus.

Eiffel: [whispered] Oh! It’s him! It’s definitely him!

Minkowski: [whispered] Shh! Stop that! We don’t know that, Eiffel! Listen to Dr. Hilbert, it could just be the station reacting to the ion cloud. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation here.

Eiffel: [whispered] Come on, Commander. After all the crazy wabba-jabba we’ve seen on here? And with Command breaking radio silence for the first time in months to warn us? Yes. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation! And it is that the empty, hungry thing is out there right now! About to go big, bad wolf on our straw house!

Minkowski: [whispered] Hera. There’s nothing moving inside the station aside from the three of us, right?

Hera: That’s correct, Commander.

Minkowski: [whispered] And all of the entrances to the station are still closed, right?

Hera: Rig- uh, ah, yes, sure! Probably?

Minkowski: [whispered] Probably?

Hera: I-I... I’m having some trouble connecting to aft deck airlock number three. I’m getting some low-level electromagnetic interference. Climate and pressure controls register as normal, but... I cannot confirm that the airlock has not been opened.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [whispered] “Zero. The empty man is with you. Extreme danger. Zero. The empty man is with you. Extreme danger.” That’s all it says.

[long pause]

[hiss of escaping air]

[distant tapping noise]

Hera: Not to alarm you all, but my systems indicate a power fluctuation is immin – [power cuts]

Minkowski: Right!

[crew shouting over each other frantically]

Hera: Hold on, hold on! Hold on! Lights back to nominal in exactly one second!

[sound of powering up]

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Oh god damn it!

Minkowski: What?

Eiffel: You have got to be kidding me!

Hilbert: What?

Eiffel: Those sons of bitches!

Minkowski and Hilbert, at once: What?

Eiffel: [exhales angrily] “The preceding six pulse beacon relays that you’ve received, have been part of a psychological experiment. Please disregard the content of these messages. And return to regular operational activities as soon as possible. Please record, and clearly label, any unusual crew behaviour, deviation from protocol, or undue lack of decorum that resulted on account of the transmission of these messages in your daily logs. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Hera: Well. Following that, this is going to seem a lot less sexy. But I’m happy to report that we’re finally starting to move past the ion wind cluster. Visibility is returning to normal, and systems are stabilising. I can confirm that there are no outside presences, or lifeforms with any degree of nutritional insufficiency at this time.

Minkowski: Thank you, Hera.

Eiffel: Those... bastards! How dare they put us through something like that? It’s cruel! And sick! And… other adjectives! What kind of person is deranged enough to call that an experiment?

Minkowski: Relax. We’ve all had enough excitement for one evening. Come on, let’s all just take a moment to cool off, gather ourselves, and... really reflect on how horrible what was just done to us was.

Eiffel: Commander, you’re not going to just... leave things at that, are you?

Minkowski: Oh don’t worry. I think you’ll find that – what did you say it was? Two weeks? Two weeks from tomorrow, the folks at Command are going to get a fantastically worded message from the three of us. Telling them exactly what we thought of their little test. I just wouldn’t want to spoil something like that by rushing into it. I think, gentlemen, we need a proper night’s sleep to really let our anger reach its full potential.

Hilbert: I concur wholeheartedly, Commander. If you require any sentiments beyond reach of the English language, I am happy to supply alternatives in Russian, Norwegian, German, Swedish, or Afrikaans.

Eiffel: Hey kids, I’ll log it in all six.

Minkowski: Sounds good. Goodnight, Eiffel. Doctor.

Hilbert: Goodnight all.

[door opens]

Eiffel: Goodnight.

[door closes]

Eiffel: Aw hell, speaking of logs. I guess you caught all of that, so... You might be able to pick up on the effect your twisted experiment had on us. Hint. It. Was. Awful! Sorry if things got a bit... crazy for a while there, dear listeners, but... you see the kind of things we have to deal with! And I used to complain about my boss at Pizza Hut. Anyway, from the USS Hephaestus Station, this is Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, signing off. Goodnight, folks.

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. The role of Minkowski was played by Emma Sherr-Ziarko. And the role of Hera was played by Michaela Swee. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. If you enjoyed tonight’s episode, please consider taking a moment to leave a review on our iTunes page. Reviews will only be used to let other people know about the show. Not as the basis for a creepy… psychological experiment! We… promise. Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

Transcript by @saltssaumure

[nellied-reviews]

Box 953 Re-listen

Well, I got a bit side-tracked by life (seriously, I had to take an impromptu trip to a consulate!) but I am back, and just in time for episode 8 of Wolf 359:

Box 953

In which Eiffel finds a mysterious box, Hilbert really wants to avoid the quarterly talent show and Minkowski is the very model of a modern major general.

Sometimes I'm surprised by these episodes when I get back round to them. This one? Not so much. I think I actually remembered pretty much everything relevant about this episode, going into it: Eiffel is avoiding Minkowski, finds a mysterious box, the mysterious box gets blown up before we see what’s inside it.

And in general, I do like the episode a lot. It's funny, after all, and it does that thing that I'm noticing a lot on the re-listen where the show throws out a big weird mystery, then ends up dropping it with a theatrical shrug of the shoulders. It's a smart thing to do, because all of the unanswered questions ("Do those transmissions really come from Earth?", "There's a plant monster on the loose!", "What's with that weird voice?", "What's in the box?") could be answered in the future, but could just as easily not be. Sure, some of them are super important and interesting in hindsight. But burying the plot-relevant questions under a heap of less relevant but equally intriguing questions disguises them, and means that we're surprised when something like, say, that weird ghost voice comes back later on. Plus it creates the impression that the Hephaestus itself is a setting full of mysteries and weird things. Which is fun.

As we begin, though, all we know is that Eiffel, for whatever reason, is hiding from Minkowski in a store room. Why? Turns out, Minkowski is worryingly invested in their quarterly talent show, while Eiffel is... less than enthusiastic.

And look, I am easily pleased. The idea of the four crew members being forced to participate in a mandatory talent show is very funny to me. The fact that this is quarterly - and so they have, presumably, already suffered through several of them - makes me smile a lot. Eiffel and Hilbert being united in their dread of it? Awesome. I love it. Honestly, it makes me want to consume and/or write fanfic about the Hephaestus' previous talent shows, and the shenanigans that I just know must have been involved.

An another level, though, can we also stop to appreciate how seriously Minkowski takes it all? It's played for laughs throughout, sure, but I do like the fact that Minkowski is the sort of person to go all out and just unselfconsciously embrace the talent show. Her love of musical theatre is so joyful and pure, and I really appreciate it. I think, on some level, it even makes her a more interesting character; instead of going down the well-trodden "I'm a badass with a secret love of something cheesy, which I'm horribly embarrassed of" route, she goes for "I'm a badass with totally non-secret love of something cheesy, which I am totally open and unashamed of." It's a sign of self-confidence, I think, plus a reassuring reminder that Commander Minkowski, badass extraordinaire, nerds out just as hard as the rest of us. (Plus, you really can't be a fan of G&S and take yourself all that seriously, because come on...)

Anyway, the conversation Minkowski and Eiffel then have, and Eiffel's ensuing log entry is just enough to give some tantalising hints of what past talent shows have involved (smoke rings? poetry readings?) before Hilbert calls Eiffel, desperate to avoid the talent show. And his solution? Knock Minkowski out. Because it's Hilbert, so of course that's the answer. *Sighs*.

While Hilbert gets going with that, then, all that remains is for Eiffel to explore the store room. And while this isn’t super relevant, it is a great excuse for a Night Vale-style list of Improbable Weird Things. And seriously, pretty much every single object here is worthy of mention. We have eyeless Russian dolls straight out of a horror movie. We have letters to Santa, a revelation whose implications are both hilarious and baffling. We have Chekhov's cannon, which totally won't be relevant later in the episode.

And in among all this, Eiffel mentions Goddard Futuristics by name for the very first time, which actually surprised me. I thought they'd already come up, since in hindsight, they really do have their fingers in everything going on up on the Hephaestus, even in the first few episodes. But I guess this is their first official mention? And to be fair, I do remember assuming, early on, that this was a military mission. So this is probably the point where we are aware, for the first time, of the corporate context of it all, and the fact that it's Goddard who are basically running a for-profit private army here. Which is... fun.

The dystopian side of that is brushed aside here, though, in favour of just revelling in the out-there weirdness of all the stuff that Goddard have stored up on the Hephaestus. L-shaped Lego pieces? 3 suits of armour? The partial skull of megafauna specimen 58 "to be handled with a vague feeling of existential dread"? It's Warehouse 13, in space! 

It's also kind of heartening to see how excited Eiffel is by all this. Like, I know that he essentially got forced to go to space, but he really does have the sense of adventure for it. There's something very sweet about how not-jaded and enthusiastic Eiffel gets, as soon as he encounters something new. And then the plot thickens when he discovers the titular Box 953, which is reserved for Douglas Eiffel. What could possibly be in it? Eiffel, ever curious, is clearly desperate to know.

Before we find out, of course, we're interrupted by Hilbert, whose plan to knock Minkowski out has hone horribly wrong - he's just gotten her drunk. Even better, we get Minkowski's drunken rendition of "I am the very model of a modern major general" in the background during all of this, and kudos to Emma Sherr-Ziarko, because every single thing drunk!Minkowski says from here on out is amazing. From making pirate costumes, to nearly shooting Hilbert over ice cream, to the little hiccup she does, everything about Minkowski here is perfect and wonderful.

It doesn't distract Eiffel for long, though, and soon he's asking Hera what's in the box. She doesn't know, though, and actually can't access those files at all. Instead, she gets the message "Error, inappropriate security clearance", which is pretty creepy. It's the second time in as many episodes, after all, that we hear somebody who isn't Hera speaking through the Hephaestus, and it's a reminder of just how many secrets the station potentially holds. And so all we learn, in the end, is that Box 953 is weird. It's huge, and bolted in place, and it's cold to the touch. Plus it's making a heart beat kind of sound? It's at this point, I noticed, that the background music also cuts away, and we’re left with a weird crackling noise as Eiffel goes to open it. Spooky.

Every part of me was expecting this to be a Pandora's box-type scenario where Eiffel's opening the box would unleash something terrible and all hell would break loose. So when we hear something explode, it seems like confirmation of this... except when we cut back to Eiffel, several in-universe hours later, we learn that the problem wasn't Eiffel opening the box. In fact, Eiffel didn't manage to open the box; the explosion was from Minkowski setting off the cannon. It seems like a lot happened in the three hour gap in the recording (not least, Minkowski ended with burns and frostbite?) and as a result, Box 953 was lost to the vacuum of space. Bummer.

And then that's it. Episode over. Everyone is safe and well, and the station is fine. But we don't learn what was in the box, and I don't think it really come up again? I googled it, and I think I saw a suggestion that it's the simulation-y machine from Change of Mind? But I don't remember the connection really being commented on, and even then it doesn't explain why it's specifically Eiffel's name on the box now. Like... what situation would Command have been expecting him to use it in? Why? How? So many questions, all of them unanswered!

And I suppose that's fine, at the end of the day. I enjoyed this episode, I loved the talent show idea, and I didn't mind the weird storeroom bits. I can imagine that some people probably felt cheated by the lack of answers we got here - and Eiffel's own anger and frustration as the episode ends maybe feels like a concession to those people. But personally, I'm more than willing to leave it as a riddle for the ages. If this had developed into something more later on, that would have been fun. As it is, I didn't mind it one bit, though. As long as you don't overdo it, weirdness for weirdness' sake can be plenty entertaining. 

Plus, drunk Minkowski is a gift to us all :)

Miscellaneous thoughts:

So I checked out the poem that got name-dropped in this episode, Sylvia Plath's Lady Lazarus, and holy smokes, disturbing much? In an interesting kind of way, sure, but still disturbing...

"You can't solve all your problems by knocking them out." "You know, people keep saying that, and yet my problems keep going away."  

D'awww Hilbert is enjoying this, isn't he?

I bet your alcohol tolerance goes way down in space. Hmm...

"Eiffel, you do not understand, there is singing."

"Swashes and buckles, Hilbert, swashes and buckles."

Also, it sounds like Hera has absolutely no objections to the talent show, and is just busy practicing her lines? What a cutie ^-^

"I don't know if it was a warning shot or if she just missed." Scared Hilbert is 100% not what I'm used to.. Is this the most frightened we ever hear him?

Don't think I missed Eiffel finding Dr. Fourier's diary :'( (another thing linking this episode to Change of Mind?)

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Retold: Hidden Grottos - Something More

Hil wrestles with guilt over what Reshiram did to one of the Shadow Triad. Also lots of Hil/N fluff. I’m not sorry.

-------------

Timeline: ~10 months after Black 2

Setting: Unova

Notes: Fluff. All the fluff. I'm really not sorry. Though there is some minor blood mention (mostly through recollections of the battle aboard the Frigate from Black 2). Also, I realized like 4k words in that uh, it didn't make a lot of sense for neither of them to have their pokémon out, since Hil likes to let his team out while he sleeps and N kinda isn't a huge fan of Poké Balls, but… I really don't wanna potentially ruin the flow by going in and adding little addendums about their pokémon here and there. So just imagine Noodle is in there somewhere and N's Zoroark is probably out of its Poké Ball too lol. It's fluff, dangit, I'm sorry! Lol I started writing this at 12am and could not stop (it's currently 4am. Aaaaa)

Characters: Hilbert (Hil), N, Reshiram

Prerequisite Reading: Black, Black 2

------------

The scent of blood was heavy on the air and the breeze lashed his face, bitterly cold to the point it felt like daggers digging into his skin, and strong enough to blow him away. Hil gritted his teeth and dug his shoes into the wooden deck below him, but when he looked up, all he could see was the battered, broken Plasma Frigate ahead of him, Reshiram divebombing it again and again with Fusion Flares. Yet, there was nobody else aboard the crumbling ship… Feeling like something sticky was covering his hands, Hil flicked his wrists and then gasped at the red fluid that was slung to the deck. Shakily turning over his palms to look at them, he blanched at the thick, scarlet coating over his hands. Then, Reshiram landed in front of him, and a powerful gust of wind knocked him to his stomach.

Immediately, the biting cold was gone and the pain from hitting the ground seemed much more real. Groaning, he leaned up and blinked fervently as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hotel room, discovering he was laying against the tiled floor and cocooned in thrashed blankets. He dazedly tried to unravel himself, turning over, but jumped when N scrambled over to him. In his grogginess from having woken up so suddenly, he had almost forgotten N was even there… He gave N an apologetic, almost nervous smile for that, even though he knew it wasn't like N could have known.

"Hil, are you alright?" N asked fretfully as he cautiously leaned over to help him out of the blankets. "What happened…?"

"Yeah, sorry," Hil mumbled as he grasped N's hand, leaning on him as he unfolded his legs to stand up. He winced at N's second question. Sighing, he pondered what to say. The truth? He knew what the nightmare had been about.

Every now and then, he'd have some variation of the same setup. He would be aboard the Plasma Frigate, alone, with Reshiram somehow involved. Sometimes, she would fiercely roar in his face and that would wake him up; sometimes, she'd land in front of him with a person's broken body in her jaws. The nightmares were always gory and unpleasant, and somehow, he would always wake up knowing exactly what they were getting at… Though, he supposed that wasn't so strange. Even in his waking hours, he'd sometimes think back to the Shadow Triad member that had informed him the Plasma Frigate had been a decoy, and how Reshiram had callously then dispatched him.

In the wake of the events aboard the Frigate, cleanup efforts resulted in bodies getting recovered from the ship. Among them had been that Shadow Triad member (the other two, along with Dr. Colress and Rosa, had never been found despite their best efforts in searching over Unova). If he were honest, it disturbed Hil on a haunting level that man had been killed while trying to assist him, not to mention how part of him was convinced the Shadow Triad didn't mean any harm to begin with and were somehow victims as well in all of it. After all, despite telling him that they couldn't let him kill Ghetsis, they had reassured him that Ghetsis wouldn't survive their encounter, nonetheless (though they had yet to locate his body, and Hil doubted they ever would). Every time he thought of that chilling, final encounter with the remaining brothers, a tremor of guilt would crawl up his spine. While one of them had lain dead and mangled aboard the Frigate, his brothers had assisted Hil one, final time, coyly finding a loophole in Ghetsis' control… Had they even known…? If they did, would they have even had the capacity to care?

Regardless, he had wanted to talk to Reshiram, to understand why she had chosen to murder that one so coldly, but frustratingly enough, he had found it impossible to communicate with her following that fateful battle in the Giant Chasm. She didn't seem upset with him and could stay out of her Light Stone form for as long as she pleased nowadays, but he just couldn't… talk to her like he had during their battle with Ghetsis and Kyurem. It was absolutely maddening! Part of him thought N could have helped him, but…

How could he have expressed all of that to N? N, who had been held captive by the Shadow Triad as well as Ghetsis to the point that he grew restless and upset staying in one place too long? In fact, they were currently staying at a hotel in Hoenn, quite the distance from Unova, because of N's need for new sights and smells. They had a few more days slated out before they would return to Unova to complete the tasks that had surely been piling up for them. It was a tense routine they had started to fall into following Hil's realization that N had felt trapped at the Pokémon League. That he hadn't even realized he was allowed to leave it.

"Hil?" N pressed softly when Hil didn't answer, wrenching him from his stupor. "What's wrong…?"

Hil sucked in a fast breath and sat down on the (now blanketless) bed behind him. No, he couldn't talk to N about that. N had been through so much more than he possibly could have ever hoped to understand, and what if he were hurt by Hil showing pity for his previous captors? "Sorry," he mumbled, "It was nothing. Just a dumb nightmare. Didn't make any sense." That sounded pathetic even to me. I can see Reshiram rolling her eyes at me now for how see-through that lie was.

Shuffling away, N crossed his arms, and an awkward silence started to build. Hil's heart pounded more and more as it stretched on, until he snatched the blankets from the floor and tossed them back on his twin bed. He didn't bother rearranging them, but he just wanted something, anything to break this miserable silence, something to send N away so he could go back to—

"You've been having a lot of nightmares," N interrupted his thoughts. Freezing briefly, Hil then licked his suddenly clammy lips and locked his stare on N. He still wore that off-white bandage around his head, hiding his missing eye from sight, but Hil had learned to read his expressions expertly in the time they had spent together since then. Right then, N had a sour, almost cagy, expression, one that radiated… disappointment? Hil didn't know what to make of that. All he knew was that he wanted N to go back to bed, so he could go back to bed, and forget all about this awkward conversation, wherever it was headed. He tensed slightly as N kept speaking. "I may have just one eye now, but I am not blind to how you clearly do not want to talk to me about this, whatever it is… I don't blame you for having nightmares. There are countless experiences I know you've been through that could cause them." N shifted his weight from side to side and his hands slowly dropped to his sides. "But… I don't understand why you don't want to talk to me about them… You have told me so much. I have told you so much… You have helped me whenever I have fought with nightmares. Especially if I ever woke in a fashion much like you just did. So… why do you not want to tell me?"

Feeling like a Deerling in headlights at N's blunt, yet respectful questioning, Hil's mouth fell open but no words came out. He didn't know what to say to that… "It's just… nothing I want to worry you about," he responded lamely at last, feeling his stomach twist into anxious knots. No longer able to meet N's single eye, Hil looked at his fidgeting hands and then pulled his feet to the bed, intending to curl back up and tell N he was tired. Just as he went to open his mouth to say so, however, N cut him off.

"I have spent a lot of my life with others deciding what I was allowed to know or not. Do you intend to do that as well?" he asked matter-of-factly, with the mildest inflection of annoyance. When Hil looked up at him this time, the corner of N's lips twitched with a hint of well-restrained frustration, and then he moved to sit down on the bed next to Hil. His movements were stiff and almost… cautious. Almost instinctively, Hil maneuvered so that he was sitting upright on the edge of the bed again, maintaining that distance between himself and N. Although N hadn't been able to explain to him exactly why, Hil knew that the other could be finicky about close contact with people. Sometimes, he found it comforting, and would welcome hugs or at least tolerate being near others, while there were other times where N would bristle at contact and would, quite vocally, ask to not be touched. Over time, Hil had learned to pick up on the subtle differences in N's movements to know when was or wasn't a good time to approach him—and now was definitely not one of those times, based on the tension in his form and the way he was averting his gaze.

Not that Hil could blame him. Shame made his cheeks burn red as he heard N's question, and his hands immediately fidgeted more, starting to shake slightly. Damn his anxiety. "N… no," Hil weakly mumbled through uncooperative lips. "I don't… I'm not trying to… trick you, or anything…"

"Yet, you were lying to me… were you not?"

Exasperated, Hil groaned and hung his head. "When you put it like that, it sounds so much worse than what it is!"

N sounded a little more frustrated then. "So, what is it, then? If it's not that bad, why is it such a secret?"

"People are allowed to not tell others things sometimes, N," Hil defensively retorted before he stopped to think. Almost right away, he cringed at the snappiness in his tone. Also since he and N had become the Consuls of Unova, he had come to understand that N had a very direct way of communicating. He didn't understand nuances or social cues that well, and the concepts of insinuations or passive-aggression were lost on him. So, he knew that N couldn't have possibly meant to suggest he didn't deserve privacy, and most likely wouldn't have understood his snippy reply in the slightest. Turning a worried look to N, he was proven correct by how the other looked utterly stunned.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hil blubbered in a panic, covering his face. "Look… I'm… I'm sorry. It was a nightmare about the Plasma Frigate. You know how I said Reshiram… Reshiram killed one of the Shadow Triad in front of me? Every now and then, I just… I just feel so bad about it. I feel so bad for him, and for his two brothers, and I know that's stupid because they helped keep you a prisoner in that madhouse of Ghetsis', and that's why I didn't want to talk about it, because you don't need to feel pity for people who helped abuse you, and—"

"Hil," N interjected gently, finally bringing Hil's anxious run-on sentence to an end. With something Hil swore was a twinge of amusement, N asked, "Is that really it?"

Daring to move his fingers to cautiously eye the other through the gaps between them, Hil swallowed hard. "Um… yeah, that's… that's pretty much it…"

Giving a relieved sigh, the tension in N's form left with the very air he exhaled. "I really thought it would be something so much worse," he chuckled lightly. Shaking his head, making his messy, green hair fan out over his shoulders, he turned a sad smile on Hil. "Hil, I don't hold anything against the Shadow Triad… They were just as used as I was." His smile dissipated as he curled his lips slightly in disgust. "Even when I was little… I knew that something was… incorrect with them. Even with the limited group of people I was allowed around, I could tell they didn't behave like others… For a while, I'll admit, that made me like them a lot. I felt like they might understand me, because I didn't feel like I fit in with other humans well, either. Of course, I learned that they didn't get me, and that they really didn't understand much of anything and were just obedient, but… I really liked them when I was little." N almost wistfully tilted his head and closed his eyes. "Ghetsis… did not name them… I thought that was really sad when I was young. All humans in the stories I had read or that I had met had names, so I thought it was only fitting they should have one, too." He laughed. "I asked them what they would like to be called."

Relaxing at N's unexpectedly sympathetic reaction, Hil lowered his hands from his face and scooted closer to the other. Still trembling thanks to the close call with a panic attack a moment ago, he tenderly quavered, "So… What did they say?"

"That they didn't understand," N snickered. Taking a deep breath, he added, "I tried to explain a few times, but they still didn't get it. Like the entirely uncreative person I am, I dubbed them Quiet, Whisper, and Loud…" There was a short pause. "I never called them that around anyone else, though, and quit calling them it altogether once I was older… By the time I was finally allowed out of… there… I'm sad to admit that I saw them as… Ghetsis wanted me to… Tools to serve Team Plasma's purpose. I didn't mean to view them that way…" He shook his head vigorously and then pulled himself farther onto the bed, daring to move a hand forward to clasp it over one of Hil's against the mattress, making Hil freeze and his breath hitch. "I am not upset with you for feeling bad about what happened to Whisper, Hil…"

Genuinely smiling back at him, Hil felt emotion rising in his throat some. Biting his lower lip to try to fight it off, he nodded. "Thank you…" Even though that's not it… Hil wanted to banish that thought so badly. He didn't want to get into the messiness of how he felt frustrated about failing to communicate with Reshiram. This bittersweet, reminiscent discussion was something he wanted to cling to, maybe steer the conversation into another exchange of their radically different childhoods, laughing and grinning about the good times (however few there were) and wincing and comforting one another over the bad times. Yet, his mouth felt like lead as N's earlier words rang in his head, reminding him he wasn't being honest.

"You can tell me stuff, too, you know," N whispered, as if guessing what Hil was thinking. He squeezed Hil's hand slightly. Face still a little red, Hil slowly turned his hand over and clasped his (admittedly somewhat sweaty) palm to N's hand, intertwining his fingers with N's. "I know you have, ah… helped and saved me often in the past," N started gingerly, "but Hil, when I apologized for you having to save me again… I think I perhaps conveyed myself poorly."

Blinking confusedly, Hil cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean…?" Although Hil could tell this was important for N to talk about, he had to admit, remembering the way N had apologized to him after he had dealt with Ghetsis back in the Giant Chasm was heartbreaking. It had pained him so deeply, for N to be there, bleeding out, and still apologizing to him… Just the memory made Hil's jaw clench and it took everything in his power to keep from tightening his grasp on N's hand. Nobody had a way of bringing out that furious, almost feverish desire to protect in him quite like N could.

"I was not feeling bad for myself," N explained. "At least, I don't think so… I was sorry because I had not been as strong as I could be… You have such a way of catching me in my moments of weakness," he snorted, "that I think you have mistaken me for someone far weaker and frailer."

"What? No, not at all," Hil defended himself a little too quickly, and a little too squeakily. N's smile vanished and he gave Hil such a pointed look with that single, gray eye. Shrinking under just that look, Hil squirmed, laughing halfheartedly. "Right… sorry, go on…"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," N sighed. "Hil, I'm not going to shatter to pieces if you talk to me more. I don't need safeguarding. I'm not a prince locked in a tower anymore. Ghetsis is gone. We lead Unova together. First and foremost, many people rely on us now… And I fear what may become of those that rely on you… or care for you"—N flicked his gaze to the side—"if you refuse to talk to me… or, er, anyone, about what is upsetting or bothering you…"

For as reserved as his words sounded and as subtle as his body language was, Hil caught on immediately to the way N was subversively admitting to caring about him, to worrying about him. In one swift moment, all Hil's anxiety was traded in for a rush of warmth that made the almost goofy, happy smile on his face grow even broader. Not to mention, the very sentiment in his words might have made him melt all on their own. Together. They led Unova together… and Hil had apparently made N feel excluded and worried by keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself. As quickly as the gust of warmth had come, it started to ebb, and he gnawed his lower lip again, dropping his gaze to the bed. "I'm sorry, N," Hil murmured, "I never meant to treat you like… like…" Oh, Arceus, how could he have explained? It was N. Hil didn't know what it was about him, but the idea of hurting N or of him being in harm's way made him want to coil around the other like a protective mother Beartic. He had seen N undergo so much, and he had so nearly lost him once before… it was so hard not to inadvertently treat him like a glass statue… Emotion choking his words somewhat, Hil whimpered, "I just… I want to keep you safe…"

"I am safe," N said simply, tugging on Hil's hand a little. "I am safe with you. You have made it clear time and time again that I am safe with you, that you do not intend to harm me… but, Hil?"

"Yeah…?"

Almost reluctantly, N said, "I… want to help you, too. I want to keep you safe, too… And you bottling yourself up and never really coming to me with stuff to talk about… I dislike that more than if you would simply talk about it… Even if some of it maybe is uncomfortable…" Breaking the tension with a slight laugh, he raised his visible brow at Hil. "Am I making any sense…?"

He was making perfect sense, and as guilty as Hil felt for making N feel like he was being coddled, his heart was swimming on fuzzy feelings that honestly made it difficult to consider the guilt or anxiety anymore. Again, he recognized the situation as a potentially romantic one, and yet again, calling it that would have felt insulting. Perhaps it was the fact that N still didn't have a fantastic grasp of what a romantic relationship was, but the way N described the way he wanted to care for Hil just sounded so wholesome and… Hil cherished it so much. It left him feeling so full in a way only N could seem to do. "Yeah, you are," Hil finally replied, grinning almost giddily. "You're right… You're right. It's not fair to you for me to hold back and decide for you what you can't or… can't handle. We're in this together." Casting a look at his bag across the room, hanging on the back of the hotel's door, Hil gestured toward it with a nod. "So, here goes… I wanted to talk to Reshiram so I could ask her why she… killed, that member of the Shadow Triad… I mean, Whisper." N might have quit calling them by their names a long time ago, but Hil suddenly found the idea of continually referring to the deceased brother namelessly unpleasant. "But I haven't been able to talk to her at all since the Giant Chasm… She hasn't been upset with me, or anything, I don't think, just…"

"Oh, is that what you want to do?" N perked up, a delighted smile spreading across his face. "I, um… I didn't know you were actually interested in honing that skill further…"

Practically gaping at him, Hil incredulously chuckled and asked, "Why on Earth wouldn't I want to learn to do that more? Hello, I'd get to talk to a legendary pokémon! Not to mention how much easier it'd be to tell Noodle to get off my shoulders whenever his brain scrambles and he thinks he's a Servine again…"

Giggling back at him, N's cheeks were dusted a rosy pink in embarrassment, something that hit Hil with another pang of warmth, only this time it hit more like a truck and less like a gentle wave. Almost like a yearning ache. "I just… I had it beaten into my head for so long that talking to pokémon was taboo and strange and humans hated it…" N still sounded amused, but there was quite the raw undertone to it. "I suppose I just figured you weren't interested since you never talked about it ever again… and I didn't want to bring it up in case it… did upset you…"

"Are you kidding?" Hil abruptly flopped down closer to N, never letting go of his hand as he did (in fact, he brought it against his chest as he sat down again, and it took everything in his power to exercise the self-control it took not to kiss it, as even he recognized in his giddy state that might have been pressing his luck). "Your whole thing with talking to pokémon is awesome. That is so nothing to be ashamed of!" Smirking a little, he taunted, "I've even heard Nathan complain about how he wishes he could do that, and you know Mister Man doesn't show envy." Rolling his eyes, Hil mocked Nathan's gruffer, throatier voice and said, "Since, y'know, he's a tough guy and all that. He 'doesn't need any help!'"

Covering his mouth, Hil could tell N was trying not to laugh, but an ugly snort betrayed his amusement and his face flushed an even darker red. Gathering his composure, he straightened his back out and, with a hint of pride that pleased Hil to hear, mused, "Well… It's a little late right now, but I would be happy to try to help you and Reshiram tomorrow… I suppose I could just talk to her for you, though, and that would also get you your answer."

Hil didn't even ponder that. "No… I wanna know how…" A little teasingly, he added, "I wanna see the world through your eyes, man. Er… Eye?"

"That should not be funny, and yet I feel like laughing," N almost pouted.

"I think that kind of humor is 'irony,'" Hil laughed.

"Mm. I think you do that one a lot."

Shrugging, Hil smirked, "Yeah, that, bad puns, and just all around terrible jokes are kind of my thing. Hey, maybe soon you'll understand why Cheren groans all the time at me!" Pausing to blink, Hil tossed his head back. "Oh, no. Soon you'll understand why Cheren groans all the time at me, and then you'll start doing it, too, 'cause you'll start to get why all my jokes are so bad."

There was a long silence before N, nervously despite the amusement lacing his voice, tried to coyly say, "W-well… maybe bad jokes are funny in their own way."

Oh, my Arceus, I'm gonna die. Is he trying to flirt? Yep, I'm just gonna die now, right here. His heart felt like it was going to explode. Deciding he had to end this before that actually happened or he somehow ruined this moment, Hil awkwardly let go of N's hand and hopped up off the bed. "Haha, you think so, huh? Well… we should probably get some sleep before tomorrow, at any rate," Hil yawned.

"This is your bed," N blankly said. "Why did you get up?"

"That," Hil pointed at him, "is a very good question." He sat back down, but N didn't get up. After a few uncertain seconds like that, Hil not-so-smoothly questioned, "So… ah… you gonna…?"

"Um…" N clasped his hands together over his lap and stared squarely down at them. "May I stay in your bed for… now…? I know it is a little small…" He swallowed hard. "But I want to… ah… be with you in case you have more nightmares like… that… It looked painful when you hit the floor like that…"

He almost couldn't believe his ears and felt a little silly for the way he beamed stupidly back at N as soon as he said that. "I'd love that, N…" He felt so warm all over, tingly and beyond joyful, to the point his hands felt jittery. He quickly realized they were jittery as he and N worked to fix the bedspread, and then took a few minutes to try to find a comfortable position for each of them in the bed.

Ultimately, Hil found himself pressed against N, with the other winding an arm around him protectively (to 'keep him from falling off the bed again,' in N's words), both sharing the same pillow. Despite how comfortable and lovely it all was, though, it ironically made the idea of falling asleep laughable. Hil had nervously questioned N at first if he was sure about it, only to have the other reassure him he was fine, and then he had even admitted it was a lot nicer than he had been expecting. Deciding to just take it as the compliment it was meant to be at face value, Hil's pride had swelled and he had nestled into the other's hold.

It was a long, long time before he fell asleep and boy, was he exhausted the next day as N hauled him out to the forest to assist him in learning to speak to Reshiram, but it had been more than worth it. He had no idea what to consider himself as N as, but honestly? That was fine by him. They were whatever they were, undefined and unrestricted by labels, and happy that way, learning slowly but surely about one another at their own slow, comfortable pace.

He'd have had it no other way.

------------

HEY SO I HAVE AMAZING NEWS!

My school decided to have mercy and ISN'T charging me an arm and a leg despite me not actually living on campus! So while I'm still leaving the P*treon up as a tip jar/for commissions, I don't feel like I have to lump my fanfiction work under the "gets posted to P*treon 2 weeks before everywhere else" rule!

I am so happy! I'll admit that I was really sad about the P*treon deal because I HATE waiting to post my works here to you guys. I get so much fun out of sharing my stuff or even just seeing all my work together under my name under my account. I'll be updating my Tumblr and the actual P*treon page to reflect this change soon. So no 2 weeks of going dark for me bb woo~!

In other news, if this oneshot is chock full of errors, that's because I basically wrote it in a fluff-brained fervor. I'm very gay and so is Hil and - yknow what, sue me, lol.

[thewritingmage]

Ventilation Mishaps

Hiya! This fic is part of the Wolf 359 Reverse Big Bang! My artist was @aspectnotarized and their art is pretty awesome! So I totally suggest you check out their tumblr!

Plus this project was so much fun so thanks to the @w359reversebang mods for organizing and hosting everything! They’re amazing!

Note: I tried, I hope I did okay at the very least. 

Fandom: Wolf 359

Words: 3,205

Summary:  When Eiffel woke up this morning, all he wanted was to do was escape Minkowski's Quarterly Annual Talent Show. He did not mean to fall into a secret room, find creepy crawlies with too many eyes, and secrets that decided to change the way he sees their resident scientist.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709791

           “Hello Dear Listeners! This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel. It’s day 525 of the Hephaestus Mission. And I am in the ventilation shafts.” Eiffel said, faux chirpy attitude in his voice. “A ventilation shaft that I’m pretty sure just loves me.”

          At that snarky remark, Eiffel dipped head first into a slanting vent. With a yelp, he proceeded to crash straight into a silver wall. A resounding bang left his ears in ringing pain. He sat up as much as he could in the enclosed space, rubbing at his head in agony.

          “Ouch, fuck. That’s gonna leave a bruise. A goddamn painful bruise but I will still be avoiding our very own Dr. Jekyll when this all cools over. Back to what I was saying beforehand, Dear Listeners. Today is day 525 and it is a day I cannot wait for to be over.” After adjustments to the mic, Eiffel got back down on his stomach. He crawled in the only direction the vent allowed him to.

          He grunted with the effort to pull himself through the dust covered vents. Another turn in the shafts came up. Eiffel groaned at the sight of it.

          “Well, we’re having one of those days at the station. A very very bad one. I mean, every day is a good day with me around, I am the epitome of the days around here. However, today is one of the days that I stay indoors, don’t need to get caught outdoors in a storm, am I right?”

          A soft chime played in the headphones that circled his neck. Eiffel froze, eyes wide in fear as the one voice he was avoiding came through.

          “Crew of the Hephaestus, this is Commander Minkowski. As I know that you are all keenly aware, it is time for our quarterly talent show. You all know that I am aware that you know it is mandatory to come. Since no one was in the cargo bay, I do hope none of you are hiding out right now but are all getting ready for the talent show.” One and only commander of the crew cleared her throat. “So, as I stand in the coms room, to which I hope I just missed you Eiffel, I better not find anyone hiding out in the storeroom or any laboratory.”

          “Ha! Storeroom idea was denied!” Eiffel crowed his success.

           “I hope to see both of you down in here the cargo bay in twenty minutes. If not, I will hunt you down.” Minkowski finished her monologue threat with a click of the PA chimes.

          “Anarchist.” Eiffel mumbled under his breath as he started to move forward again.

          Another slant in the vent came up and Eiffel guffawed at the vent. He tsked a finger at it. He twisted around till he had his feet going down first, not wanting to get caught in that trick again. A ping went through his headphones as he slid down the vent, feet steadied him as he arrived in an open area. Eiffel made a noncommittal noise when a thought came across him.

          “I wonder where our resident evil scientist is even doing today, dear Listeners.”

          A crackle of static burst sharply in the headset, making the man wearing them cringe.

          “Eiffel, are you there?” Russian accent pierced through the otherwise silent vent.

          “Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hilbert! How’s it going, Doc? Chewing any carrots today?” Eiffel joked as he sat down in the open space.

          “Eiffel, there is no carrots on station. I could not have been eating carrots today.” Hilbert answered, confused.

          The only communications officer on board leant into his palm, “Never mind. What’s up, Doc?”

          The sound of clinking glass echoed through the headphones, “I have come up with solution to our ‘Talent Show’ situation.”

          Eiffel hummed in acknowledgement, a hand snuck into his side pocket as he pulled out a bag. He popped a cigarette candy into his mouth and leaned back against the wall. Hilbert continued, “Give me moment, Eiffel. I need to be precise with this.” A fizzing sound made Eiffel pause on the biting of his candy.

          “Woah, woah. What exactly are you doing?” Eiffel asked.

          “It has been while but I remember I have degree in biochemistry. A handy degree in my experiment today.” Hilbert said, clinking of glasses clear through the headset microphone. “I have decided to make a narcotic and sedative, very powerful.”

          The human in the vent shaft rubbed his forehead, eyes closed and mouth set in a line. “Doc, you know we have gone over this. You don’t need to go all evil scientist on us yet.”

          Hilbert only chuckled at that, the sound of pressure being closed off let Eiffel know the Russian had sealed his fate. Eiffel sighed. He peered down at one of the three entrances that lead into darkness. “Okay Captain Nemo, I gotta go before I’m forced into the Temple of Doom.”

          Hilbert hummed into his mic, “I have completed sedation anyways, I will report later results.” The buzzer ended the conversation.

          “Well, I can’t wait to see that result. For now, we need to get to a better hidey spot. Which shall it be? Creepy dusty shaft number one, darkness looming shaft number two, or definitely-not-hotel-cleaned shaft number three!” Eiffel gestured in a grand sweeping motion as he announced into his recording.

          Only the creaking of the Hephaestus answered the communications officer. He swung his flashlight towards the middle. Grimacing at the darkness that led ahead,

          “We have a winner! Shaft number two is our winner! Come along, Listeners. We shall go on a very dirty adventure.” Eiffel said, flamboyance gone as he got to his hands and knees.

          Flashlight and recording device his sole companions in the darkness.

          It was a brisk twenty minutes later, when Eiffel once again ran head first into a dead end. His flashlight clattered to the floor that made him freeze as the sound echoed throughout the distant ventilation system. He didn’t move for a few seconds before he scrambled to grab the flashlight. He held it close to his chest as a ding of his coms lit up his earphones. As he straightened up, his head set fell, the only man around reached for it as the voice of their resident scientist spoke.

          “Eiffel? Eiffel, are you there? Complications have arisen!” Hilbert's frantic voice rose through the speakers.

          Eiffel scrambled to get the headset. His flashlight bobbed against the grey. His hands skimmed over the receiving end of the com before they grabbed it. He clutched at it as a loud creak groaned under him, he held his breath as the creaking began to settle into a low moan before it went silent.

          “That doesn’t sound good. Okay, if I just reach slowly across…” A deep groan reverted throughout the area, Eiffel stood still. Took a slow breath…and shot his hand out, grabbed the headset, and curled up till the groaning stop. Everything settled. “Okay, Listeners, I think everything is under control...gotta check on Hilbert.”

          The buzzer broke through the silence. “Eiffel. This is urgent!”

          A second voice came on the coms as Eiffel placed the headset around his neck, volume jacked up. “Hiiilbert. Where did you gooo?”

          A frantic whimper echoed, “This is an ur-zzzzz-atter! I need emergen-zzzzz-ack up-zzzz-”

          The communications officer looked down at the headphones, confusion across his face. He tweaked the small signal booster. “What? Doc I can’t hear you. Something is blocking the signal-”

          Creaaaaak.

          Eiffel’s eyes widen.

          Crack!

          His mouth gaped as a crack in the vent broke in front of him.

          Bang!

With a snap forward, Eiffel flew into darkness.

          God, why was it so dark? Eiffel thought as pain hit him. He blearily opened his eyes, trying and failing to find any good light source in front of him. Blackness circled him. He shut his eyes again as a weight on top of him gained his awareness. He sat up, pieces of metal fell of him into piles on the floor. Squinted eyes caught a beam of light, he turned and pushed off pieces of vent from the torch.

          “Why the hell is there so much gravity here….” Eiffel mumbled as he got up.

          He raised his hand up to his ear, pressing lightly on it as he spoke. “Hera? You there?”

          Only static responded to him. He frowned and tried again. “Hey Doc, are you receiving?”

          Static once again responded, “Goddamn it...well, Dear Listeners. You guys are the only ones listening in now. I’m going to explore and see how to get out or how to unblock this signal.”

          He swung his flashlight around, light illuminating a series of computer screens and lab tables in a surprisingly large room. The communications officer kicked a few stray metal pieces away. Curiosity made him wander towards the cabinets and lab tables covered in a thick layer of dust. With one finger he dragged it through the dust as he shined his light at the glass cabinets. Jars, full of floating specimens that he swears twitched at him, glinted back at him ominously.

           One jar in particular stood out. Coated in copious amounts of dust, he reached a hand out to pick up the jar. He tilted the light, a floating monstrosity sat in the liquid. Eiffel shuddered at the sight of it. A swish in the container made the human pull it closer to him for examination.

           “What are you-” In a blink of an eye, the spider-like creature turned a full one-eighty on him. A multitude of eyes stared as it attached itself to the glass in a loud thump. “HOLY SHI-” Glass crashed under his feet as Eiffel screeched. Instinct making him let go of the jar in fright.

           He scrambled away, flashlight aimed at the experiment. It only stared up at him, it’s dozen eyes blinking in unison at his paleness. It began to skitter to the down man before said human through his one and only flashlight at it with a scream of, “HELL NO, GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, TOTO.”

           The thing hissed at him before it ran in the opposite direction, disappearing into the darkness that was of this mysterious room. Eiffel’s’ lungs shook at the effort to take in air, eyes focused on the flashlight a few feet away. If he concentrated, he could hear the skittering sounds of the spider.

           “Why spiders? Why couldn’t it be butterflies?” Eiffel grumbled as he stood a bit shakily. “I’ll just hope that incident is purged from my mind by tonight.”

           Eiffel secured his flashlight once more and turned away from the lab area. His attention shifted away to the outdated computers across the room. He quickly scooted around tables and headed towards them. Flashlight set down to face the console, Eiffel rubbed his hands together. “Now, now. What do we have here?”

           Brown eyes focused on the keyboard laid out. He cracked his knuckles and began. Typing in codes to wake up the computer. “Come on you hunk of junk, I want to know all your secrets.”

          A blue screen loaded. Text popped up: Computer start up? Y/N

          Eiffel scoffed, “Of course. Let’s enter the Matrix.”

          The screen booted up, several terminal screens lit up in unison. Brightening the room and catching the officer’s attention. All the screens showed logs that had been previously recorded. They glowed red, dates labeled upon them. “This…. this is weird. There are audio logs on this computer. I’m clicking on this first one, oldest it seems. Blast from the past, volume one. Here we go.”

          Click

          Static popped and a voice, loud and clear, came through.

         “Hephaestus Station. Captain Isabel Lovelace here.”

          Her somber tone made chills crawl up Eiffel’s spine. A terrible gut feeling awoke in him, something wasn’t going to go right.

          Four logs.

          Four logs with loss of crew, sickness, and oddities that could and did boggle the mind.

          Eiffel didn’t know what to say.

           Eiffel breathed. “Two more logs, Listeners. Two more.” He raised his eyes at the original screen. “Volume five of these accursed logs. I swear this is worse than opening that Ark.”

          Click

          “Captain's Log. U.S.S. Hephaestus Station. Final entry.” Her voice held no room for cowardice or weakness, it stood firm with malice. “Run and hide. That's all I have to say to you. Run. And. Hide. Because I'm coming for all you bastards. You probably thought you'd never see me again. You thought if you just left us up here you could forget all about us. Out of sight, out of mind, huh? Jokes on you. You bastards killed most of my crew, but I'm still alive, and Dr. Selberg is still alive, and we have a way to get off this tin can. It's taken months, but we found a way. It's not gonna be pretty. It's not gonna be fast. But we'll make it back to Earth, and the first thing we're going to do as soon as we get home is find everyone involved in this sadistic little field-trip and make you pay. So, if you're listening to this: Run. And. Hide. Because by the time that I'm done you will feel more helpless and more alone than all the innocent people you've ever hurt. See you soon.”

          Eiffel stared at the screen. His mind a pot full of mixed reactions and confused thoughts. His mouth opened and closed. Never deciding one or the other. His voice caught. “Captain Lovelace. I hope to the goddamn heavens you’re out there. I hope you and Selberg have made it through all this shit.”

          He shook himself and faced the screen. He had to do this. He had to find out.

          He clicked the mouse. He tried to prepare himself.

          “C’mon Eiffel. Be the Yoda you were always meant to be.”

          It wasn’t working.

          The recording started to play.

          "This is Captain Lovelace of the USS Hepha-” A distant knocking interrupted the beginning of her speech. “It’s…. It’s open!”

           A new voice entered, lower and rougher to the ears, with an accent tinged on. A very familiar accented voice. “Captain? Is this a bad time?”

Eiffel’s jaw dropped. His mind racing at that voice. It couldn’t have been him.

          “No, no. You’re fine, Selberg. Just was trying to get some logs going. What’s going on?” Lovelace answered, a relief beneath her question.

          “Everything is ready. We can head downstairs when you are.” One sentence and Eiffel knew.

          Eiffel shook his head, backing away from the console with mutters that grew louder.  “No….no….no! It can’t be Hilbert! It can’t-”

          Suddenly the coms set around his neck buzzed to life. The voice of their only scientist crackled to life. “Eiffel! Please respond! Situation has gone critical and I am trapped!”

          Panic bloomed across his mind, he ripped the headset away from his neck and threw it as far as he could. It only bounced off the adjacent wall, still spewing static and Hilbert’s hails. Eiffel’s back hit his side of the wall. His mouth gaped, his lungs frozen. This couldn’t be...why would Hilbert be Selberg? How did he survive? Where is Lovelace?

          Thoughts raced through his head, crashing into one another without abandon. His view of their resident scientist tilting so hard on its axis, his vision blurred to the point that he slid down the wall. Hands coming up to hold his head as the dizziness rocked him.

          White light fizzled into existence, Eiffel was far too gone in his own head to notice. The two opaque blurs moved around the room, projected light particles trailing after them. They engaged each other in what could be conversation. The taller of the two sat down in a nonexistent chair, leaning her face up at the other. “Thank you, Dr. Selberg. This has been hard but I am glad you’re here.”

          “Can’t be….” Eiffel said, fetal form curled tighter into itself as the holographic recording played and the headset let out one last burst of Hilbert’s terrified scream.

The standing figure only inclined his head. “Always happy to be of assistance.”

          The room was buried in darkness, every inch dripped with inkiness. The barest of illuminations alighted the room. A dulling, white light cast itself over a huddle form in the corner. At a glance, the man looked frozen. As if death itself had touched him with the way his skin has turned pale from his natural darken skin. With hands over ears, the man tuned out the glitching figures by the console. One phrase in constant repetition.  

                                        “Always happy to be of assistance.”

          A multitude of instruments were scattered around the console. None of them the right ones to stop the broken line. Across the room, the only door was sealed tight. Marks and other tools scattered around it too. The door itself bore numerous dents and scratch marks but no mark or sign of a successful open entrance. Only dust particles floated in the air, disturbed by the only visitor.

          The line stuttered, only one syllable stuck like a broken record. Eiffel glanced up, mind already forming a plan to get the radio working. Realizing this was his chance since the signal was blocked no more. He reached beside himself, headset in hand, to grab a small tool. Quickly, he dismantled the headphone casing. He pulled wires out and cut few in half. The voice in the background gained more of its sentence.

                                                  “Always-Always….”

          Eiffel eyed the white obstructions, “Oh fuck off! You can’t come over and try to drag me to the Dark Side forever!” he yelled at the two white figures.

           The headphone sparked brightly as two wires were connected. A static laced voice broke through. Eiffel smiled as the signal became stronger. He pulled his knees closer to him as a shiver racked his body. He raised the headset further, ignoring the penetrating cold.

           “India-Golf-Niner-Niner, do you copy?” Eiffel said, heart beating fast.

          “Ei-zzz-el? Can you hear me-zzz-?” Hera’s sweet voice filtered through, Eiffel sighed in relief.

          “Yes! I copy! God, you do not know how nice it is to hear your voice, Hera.” Eiffel answered. “Could you open this damn door? Please?”

          Hera paused for a few moments before she answered. “Aren’t...you outside?”

           He looked baffled, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “No, I’m inside some room. It’s as big as the observatory.”

          Hera’s humming went a few octaves higher. “I’m going to get-get Minkowski… actually I’m going to get Hilbert because M-Minkowski is… a bit preoccupied.”

           “No!” Eiffel yelled, body jerking forward to stop a non-existent force. “I mean, don’t get Hilbert. Just...just help me find my way through the vents again?”

           “Of course, Officer Eiffel.” Hera said, a quiet tone set.

           “You’re the best. You know that, right?” Eiffel said as he got up and scooted around the figures who still stuttered.

           “I know.” Eiffel could practically hear the smirk in her tone as he searched for something tall enough.

           “Thanks, Hera.” Eiffel mumbled before he exclaimed a happy sound when he found something for the perfect height.

           Hera spoke with quirk of fondness as Selberg’s repeated mantra broke. “I’m always happy to be of assistance, Officer Eiffel.”

                                                       - Le Fini -

[404-brainnotfound]

Live-blogging/reacting to the Black Tapes 303

And apparently shit gets real and it’s really painful, based on some of the posts I’ve seen. I’ve been a little absent lately, adjusting to a new apartment and figuring out a new job (programming/IT - officially a STEM lady!) and starting a Java college class, and just getting back from a trip, so those are my excuses.

Anyway, here’s my long-winded live reaction:

“enigmatic”

I can’t believe this still is so accurate describing Strand.

“...But first I went to Turkey”

LOL WTF is this segue? I bet Terry Miles wrote that stupid line.

Simon sounds more raspy than normal, like Simon to the power of 10. Reminds me of the transformation from Wolf 359 season 1 Hilbert voice to season 3(?) Hilbert voice.

In fact, Simon’s monotone is a little Extra (TM) to me

Why does Simon use “tapestry” here when he’s been so fond of music metaphors in the past?

ALEX YOU WOULD LET SOMEBODY BLINDFOLD YOU

Nice imagery Alex describes post-kidnapping-and-blindfolding

Bet Paul wrote this part. Has nice show, don’t tell vibe, which Terry fails at most of the time.

Side note, “magic hour”/“witching hour”/“golden hour” plays a big part in the Japanese animated film “Your Name,” and it has a GORGEOUS song composed specifically for golden hour: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZH_tMmaMGO8

“But first we’re headed back to Seattle”

man this episode is really jumping around

I LOVE the Pythagoras stuff. Episode 109 with the Pythagorean comma was my fave behind 104.

Of course the modern day group is a death cult

“or at least that’s my theory”

Oh Alex.

“Okay...” “..if you’re not happy with my response, I don’t know what else to provide-”

LMFAO their interactions are so weird and have ALWAYS been. There’s this insidious tension, feelings of derision and mistrust between the two of them, but it’s mixed in with a general fondness of the other person, because they’ve been forced to spend so much time together and share so much of their personal lives. It’s like they see each other as unfortunate but permanent parts of each other’s lives, like a toxic relative who they can’t help but feel obligated to try and maintain a relationship with, so they mistake that obligation for actual love. I’ve heard of this concept in romantic relationships as “misattribution of arousal” where a person mistakes their feelings of arousal as romantic attraction rather than a physiological response to fear and shared trauma. One of the queer YouTubers I follow just put out a video about a similar phenomenon that occurs between queer people who become friends only because they’ve both experienced the trauma of societal marginalization for being queer. Those queer people bond quickly and deeply over that shared trauma, only to later realize that they have nothing in common and make poor friends. Here’s that video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGrtCRMbq9Q

“Your podcast is about the Black Tapes, but it’s also about us...you are at the center of this with me.”

How VERY true Dr. Strand. In fact, I hate horror, but the characters of Alex and Strand drew me in so much that I stayed all this time.

TBTP has always been intimate and character-driven in a way that Tanis never was, and that’s why it has the staying power even after a year-long hiatus.

The TRUST discussion, why didn’t this happen EONS ago, but here it is, the core of what makes this relationship (in a non-shippy way) SO interesting

“We have to watch over each other” ;___;

And damn Alex’s reaction is INTERESTING

She’s TRYING to be skeptical of her subject! FINALLY, oh my bb, look at your character development, just look at it!

Did anyone else think that Alex was going to talk to Nic instead of Simon when she mentioned “needing perspective”?

“We all have a choice, Alex” = Key theme of this season?

i.e. We choose what we believe, we see what we want through our own confirmation biases? Just a thought.

I love how Simon is so much more present this season.

Horn of Tiamat is actually a song? Back to the spooky music motif, YASSSS

side note, how does Simon know cuneiform/ancient Sumerian?

I guess he knew sacred geometry so there’s that

Stored beneath the Vatican? Does this tie back in the exorcism machine stuff left hanging last season?

These dental ads are boring, I low-key miss the Me Undies cringefest of last time.

Simon’s phone was out of service the next day

That boy is SO extra

So the cuneiformist doesn’t think it’s a song, interesting. I bet it’s a song though, so it matches the spooky music thread we’ve had going all this time.

Aaaaand cueniformist already sent numbers in an email, MK would be proud.

This mention of Sebastian Torres after so long makes me want someone to write a fic set 10 years later in a “Where are they now?” style confessional show.

Any takers, @the-wonderful-jinx​, @buckybabs​, @luminescent-wanderings​ & co?

“What do you mean I’m at the center of it?”

Um, see the discussion you have with Alex not 10 minutes before in the episode, my dear amnesiac Dr. Strand.

“Perhaps I should sit for this presentation. [sigh]” “I’m serious.”

This line had me laughing hard. I love Strand-style humor when he lets it out. Similar Strand humor instance is this quick interaction from 107: ALEX: You know Tannis Braun’s bi-locating sounds an awful lot like the Simon Reese situation. STRAND: Tannis Braun and Simon Reese have a lot in common. ALEX: You don’t like him. STRAND: Who? Simon?

“Ex-wife” “WIFE... we never divorced.”

JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER THE AWKWARDNESS

Why are you being so confrontational Strand?

I guess Alex kinda ruined the Strand & Coralee reunion.

Didn’t Alex also call Coralee Strand’s ex-wife in 104ish?

Even more Strand humorous quips/snipes... he’s such a diva!

“We’re all male?” truly stood out

“Everything about that man runs counter to what I consider civil behavior.” “...” “What?”

Just a fucking beautiful exchange with humor that rises out of character rather than a joke for the sake of a joke (for example: ‘What’s a podcast?’). When PNWS is good, they’re so good.

THE ME UNDIES AD IS BACK, WOO

It changed Alex’s LIFE, guys!

Not nearly as good and cringy as the now-infamous “cradle your jewels” one

And she called him “Richard” again, just hitting home the weird dichotomy of their relationship, that mix of fondness and severe mistrust

“Are you serious?” “When am I not serious?”

So, so many good, quality, humorous lines that match with the characters’ personalities perfectly. This episode really had some great character-driven dialogue, and in fact might be my new favorite episode!

OOOOOOH SPOOKY CLIFFHANGER

Is Sebastian Torres a clone of Simon Reese?

Do they look alike? Do we have any descriptions of them in past episodes?

[ihaveapencilbehindmyear]

“His friends are safe. They have a new shelter. But everything is still so loud, like a battle. Frankly, Doug is sick of it. And Hilbert says he has a cure.”

Finally, the Wolf 359 Bright Sessions AU you’ve all been waiting for! Wait, you haven’t been waiting for it? Well, check it out anyway, and all the other Wolf 359 2017 Big Bang works!!

It’s starting to get either cramped or cozy in here, Doug isn’t sure which. Cozy because they’re settled into a comfortable schedule, him and Hera and Minkowski. Hilbert is still hanging around the sidelines of everything- he hasn’t quite figured out what to do with all his guests yet, even though he’s the one who let them in. He mostly stays in the lab except for meals, and sometimes, Doug hears him pacing around the safe house. The Hephaestus he calls it. Doug calls it ‘the-way-too-damp-cave-system-in-an-uncharted-mountain’, but hey, whatever floats his science boat. Doug isn’t about to piss him off and get thrown outside into the elements. Minkowski said it wouldn’t be half bad here if everything didn’t keep breaking- luckily, Hera always knows what’s going on. That’s the schedule. Wake up, breakfast, alarms go off, Hera tells them what’s going on and the rest of them fix it. Eat some more and go to sleep. It’s better than what they were doing before, that’s for sure.

Cramped because, as usual, he can hear everything. Everything. Every alarm, every sigh, every complaint, every creak and groan of the old floorboards and bang and clash of the shitty pipes. Now normally, Doug isn’t one to pop out of bed straight away. He can and will longue with the best of them. But these days, his headaches have gotten so bad, he can’t even get up for a hour or two. He wakes up because something is too loud and can’t sleep again, so he stays laying down, eyes shut until he hears Minkowski get up. Nothing, of course, can be easy for Superhero-in-Training Doug Eiffel.

God, he wishes. Just maybe, if this was a super power, he could learn to live with it.

No. Instead, Doug is an Atypical. Humans with special talents. Gifts. Superhuman mutations, if you will. Minkowski, for instance, can make things levitate, which would be lame, if that didn’t include herself, which means Rene Minkowski, the uncoolest person in the world, can technically fucking fly. Then there’s Hera. Who can predict the future. Because who doesn’t want to do that? Even Dr. Alexander Hilbert has some kind of super genius gene floating around in his DNA.

What does Doug do? Wait for it.

Super hearing.

So yes, before you ask, he can hear you pee a mile away.

It was useful when they were on the run. He could tell when danger was coming, but not where it was coming from unless it was an especially quiet night. You don’t know how many sounds there are. You try pinpointing exact ones where everything in the world is either humming, buzzing, or banging these days. It hurts. A lot. Being closed off in a mountain doesn’t help, because everything has some kind of echo-y quality to it, so each sound comes back. And comes back. And comes back. And Doug wants to cut his own ears off sometimes. You’d think he’d be used to it by now.

Maybe earplugs would help, now that they’re safe-

Wait. Someone is approaching his room. By the heavy, shuffling footsteps, and the tense breathing pattern, it’s definitely Hilbert. Yeah, Minkowski and Hera are still in the dining hall, Hera prepping breakfast and Minkowski chatting with her about today’s repairs/future disasters. Hera is laughing, maybe it’ll be a good day. He can hear the hint of a smile in Minkowski’s voice as she leans back in her chair at the table and the boiling water from the stove, aw man, Hera is making grits again? -

“Eiffel. If I may have a word.”

Doug swings his legs off the side of his bed, the fullness of Hilbert’s voice bringing back to his own room with a wince.. “You know, it’s typically considered polite to knock, doc.”

“You hear me coming. No need.”

They stay there for a second, awkwardly. Hilbert clears his throat after a moment, and Doug winces. “That is what I’m here about.” Hilbert says, beaming- well, as much as Hilbert can beam. More like his eyes lightened slightly, and his typical frown wasn’t as hard as stone.

Doug blinks. “Your- your cough?”

“No no. You.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I’m here to help. With your power. Each sound too loud, affecting your mental and physical states, yes? I’ve been working on a few experimental trials regarding the nature of powers, how to control them better. Your gift is not a matter of learning like Minkowski’s and Hera’s. You already know how to hear things. You need to learn how to tune out the unimportant sounds.”

Like that hasn’t occurred to Doug before. He may not be a super genius, but he’s not a complete moron. “Look doc, I’ve tried that-”

“I’m sure you have. That’s why I’m suggesting these trials. I’ve been developing this drug for a long time now, and I assure you, it’s perfectly safe. Perfectly. I was in the middle of testing it with other Atypicals when the AM caught wind of us and captured them all. I got lucky. So I can continue to help Atypicals, either by providing shelter or providing treatment. I understand your skepticism. But I do mean well.” He’s walking away, and the footsteps are too loud again, and a pipe just burst in the bathroom and Minkowski is swearing under her breath and it’s so loud and he says, “Doc, wait.”

“We’re too comfortable.”

“That’s the idea,” Doug says, because he’s still in bed, surrounded by at least ten blankets, and frankly, is too tired to be confused as to why both Minkowski and Hera are hanging over him like they’re waiting for something.

“No Eiffel. Not what I meant.” Minkowski continues.

“Alright, well if you don’t want to join the cuddle puddle, I’ll just ask Hera. Hera baby? What do you say?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabs her hand and drags on on top of the pile of blankets. Hera squeals happily, which is still too shrill for Doug’s ears, but the rush of the stream running in the caverns over their heads is less insistant. He doesn’t even want to see the look Minkowski is giving him right now. If he focuses, he can hear her teeth grinding behind her pursed lips.

“Eiffel, focus. I’m trying to say I think something suspicious is going on here.”

He rolls his eyes. “You always think something suspicious is going on everywhere. Commander, you’re the one who was saying it’s not a bad place to stay. Why shouldn’t we be comfortable here? What, do you not trust Hilbert?”

“Doug, I don’t trust anyone.” she said, which didn’t answer his question, and kind of stings. It’s like she’s saying Doug is wrong is let Hilbert experiment on him. It’s like she’s saying she doesn’t trust Doug .

“She doesn’t mean that,” Hera murmurs to him, not directly in his ear but more into his shoulder, so it’s muffled and not as loud. She’s sweet like that.

“Well if you’re so nervous, what do you propose?” Doug finally says.

“Hilbert is going to be busy today, she wants to explore the places in the base we haven’t seen yet. Just in case he’s hiding something.” Hera explains, and Minkowski nods. “I know you’re going to say no Doug, so I’m going to say, please? For me? For the thrill of the adventure? And you’re going to say-”

“Well I can’t argue with someone who knows exactly what I’m going to say. But-”

“Why can’t you just look into the future and tell us what we’ll find?” Hera puffs out her chest and lowers her voice, trying to copy his signature shit-eating grin. “And I’ll say future events can all be different, because there are many different outcomes to all things. I can’t say with one hundred percent confidence what we’ll find. Soooo-”

“It’s adventure time then.” Doug finishes for her, and she grins.

Hera seems excited, at least. It’s enough to perk him up. He feels kind of weary, but it’s not from the echo of their footsteps this time. Secret experiments at night really drain a guy.

I wonder if Hera knows.

No, probably not for sure. There are many different outcomes to all things and all that. If something were to go wrong with even the slightest possibility of it, she’d tell him. He’s sure of it. So they explore. They find nothing but old files. Other Atypicals who have stayed in the safehouse before. Someone named Lovelace, someone named Lambert. Nothing interesting, and if Hilbert knows they were snooping, he doesn’t say anything as he sticks another needle in his arm.

Weeks pass, not without incidents. They’re just not as noticeable to Doug anymore. He can still hear them, but it’s. So nice. Not to have everything crowd his thoughts all at once. He doesn’t even mind the alarms at this sound level. They’re almost soothing.

Well, the normal ones might be. Then there’s this powerful one that would have brought him to his knees if it wasn’t for Hilbert’s drug. He groans, and Hera jumps, and Minkowski barks, “Hilbert, what the hell?”

“That’s the intruder alarm!”

“Intruders?! Eiffel, didn’t you hear them coming?”

“Forget why he did not hear, why did Hera not see?!” Hilbert snaps, then runs out of the room, calling back, “I’ll see if I can enhance security in time!”

With a real emergency, and Hilbert out of the way, Minkowski finally blooms back into her commanding, uptight, perfectly prepared and ready to face a shitstorm self. “Head to the entrance. Hera, what do you see?”

“N-nothing Minkowski, I didn’t see anything like this-”

“Eiffel, what’s your take?”

Even with Hilbert’s help, he can’t hear a thing over the alarms. “Uuuuuuuugh, no good commander, too loud to hear anything.”

“Then we need to act fast. I’m going to-”

There’s a crash, and Doug screams, he thinks he’s screaming, he can’t tell over the rush of air pouring in and the sound of grunts and groans, as if there’s a whole army on the other side of the door. Instead there stands a woman, bathed in gold light. There’s blood on her lips and dirt on her dark skin. She spits red on the ground, and the glow around her fades. “Who the hell are you?”

“I believe we should be asking you that.” Minkowski says stiffly, and Doug can see her fist tightening. A desk behind the intruder is now hovering a few inches off the ground, just in case.

“Alright. If that’s how you want to play it, fine. I’m Isabel Lovelace, and I’m here to destroy all of you.”

“Isabel Lovelace.” Minkowski repeats, and Hera says, “That’s not possible.”  

Doug, ever the sensible one, squeaks out, “Whoa whoa whoa, destroy us?!”

“It is possible, because I’m here, and I’m going to kill you.” Her eyes are burning. “And when your precious backup gets here, I’m going to kill them too. And I’ll make my way to the AM, free all the innocent people have hurt, and burn the building to the fucking ground. You can’t get rid of me. I just. Keep. Coming back.”

Then, everything happens at once. For once, Doug sees it instead of hears it.

Hilbert stumbled back into the room, and he’s letting out choked gasps.

Isabel is glowing gold and then suddenly, there’s two of her, and one is dashing at Hilbert.

The other is knocked out cold, because Minkowski put her floating desk to good use.

The second Isabel grabs Hilbert, she’s tackling him to the ground, but when the first is on the ground, she blinks, and multiplies again. The third Isabel Lovelace is more visibly relaxed. “Atypicals?”

“What did you think we were?” Hera demands, vibrating with anger. She normally doesn’t fight, when they were on the run all they needed was Minkowski and a really big boulder, but she seems ready now. “Agents in a safe house?”

“Kid, this is the worst safe house you could possibly be in. Selberg over there is an agent, hiding innocent Atypicals before the AM sweeps in and kidnaps them. He did that to my old crew. And the agents on my tail are the ones who tormented them.” “You lead AM agent's here?!”

Minkowski’s snarl is waved away. “You got caught up in my war. But I can help you when it’s over. What am I working with here? Levitation,” she says, glancing away from Minkowski’s glower.

“Future sight and regular human.” Hilbert growls.

“ What was that. ” Could have been Minkowski, but he isn’t sure which because he can’t hear anything for some reason. He can see Hilbert’s grave face, Hera’s shaking hands, and Lovelace’s look of pity as Hilbert mentions the drugs, but all he can hear is the blood in his ears.

“C’mon Doug,”

It’s so loud, everything else isn’t coming through, it’s just his voice taking over his thoughts. That’s never happened before, why isn’t anything else coming through? C’mon Doug, focus.

“Selberg did that to you, didn’t he?”

He couldn’t even hear Lovelace come in. “What?”

She clears her throat. “Sorry, Hilbert. He tested on you. Didn’t he?” Doug pulls his hands away from his head, stunned into silence. She nods. “That’s what I thought. Stay back here. You’re not going to want to be around when the AM agents get here.”

Doug took that to mean ‘you have some time, but you should stay out of the way you weak little human’.

Doug did not take that to mean ‘they’re on the way and you’re going to be ambushed in the kitchen, so grab a snack on the way to hiding’.

“Put your hands where I can see them, Eiffel.”

Doug raises his arms slowly, still holding a frosty hot pocket. He knows that voice. He’s been running from it for years.

Warren Kepler stands in the kitchen with a gun, flanked by his trusty partners, Daniel Jacobi, boy on fire, and Maxwell, not a mutant super genius but might as well be. “Howdy. Surprised you didn’t hear us coming and get the door for us.”

With Doug as a hostage, it’s easy to get Minkowski and Hera to stand down. Lovelace is feisty, but the threats eventually get to her.

“I don’t think so, Isabel. We wired this place before we came in. One spark from Mr. Jacobi here and this whole place goes up in flames.” “Even your friends here?” Lovelace snarls, and Kepler laughs. “I take it you have it all figured out, now don’t you?”

“I always do Lovelace. And if you want to stay alive to, you know, kill us, you might want to back down. Maxwell, escort her out. Hilbert, old friend, tell me what you got here.”

Hilbert clears his throat, looking uncomfortable for the first time Doug has ever seen. “The same Atypicals I mentioned in my reports. Future sight, levitation, and our former Class C. I’ve been testing on him, and now he’s basically a human with above average hearing.”

“As usual, your choice of subjects is astounding. Still. Jacobi, take him to the back. I’m not interested in his kind.”

“Just relax Doug. I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me too,” Jacobi winked, which was not as charming as it would have been, considering his shoulders were on fire and he was holding a harpoon. Scary shit.

It was so tiring, dealing with all the scary shit.

No, don’t go there Doug. Stay focused. Keep him talking. Be cool. “Why would I want you to hurt me, Jacobi?”

“I don’t know, maybe you’re into that-”

“Don’t- why are you doing this? Don’t talk to me like we’re friends.” Shit, he lost his cool.

“Aww, Dougie, I thought we were friends. We’re pretty similar, you and I.”

“We are nothing alike .”

He smiles. “Huh. You know I was gonna say something about our loyalty to our friends, our general tomfoolery, but instead, I think I’ll agree with you. We’re nothing alike. Because I’m Atypical. And you’re not anymore.”

For a moment there, he believed him.

Then he could hear Hera’s quiet sobs from the other room.

Doug gritted his teeth. He couldn’t hear anything else.

[gloriaxstellarum]

First kiss ~afraidofxs

Ariadne was getting frustrated, she just wanted to know what was so special about things like this, it was such a human thing and in all her years Andi had never had the opportunity or inclination to explore such topics. For whatever reason she was all keyed up to learn about it although Dr. Hilbert was being less than helpful.

“But what is-” Andi began but Hilbert cut her off with a wave of his hand and a very cross ‘no’. Andi let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’m sure Douglas would be more than happy to explain things to me.”

Andi turned to leave when she felt a hand on her arm and in the next moment Hilbert’s lips were on hers, his other hand gently cupping the back of her neck. Andi had never thought about kissing and least of all had never imagined her first kiss, but she was sure that if she had it most definitely would not have been like this. Not that it was bad, on the contrary she found it enjoyable. Enjoyable but far too short.

“I trust that satisfies your curiosity?” Hilbert pulled away from her with a smirk before going back to whatever it was he had been working on

“Yes, for the moment anyway.” Andi was sure further analysis was in order before she could safely say she enjoyed kissing, but the outlook was fairly positive. Now she had some star charts to correct.

[countthelions]

the OG crew lounge, feat. a bystander 

Even with Hera giving Lovelace a briefing on the crew, she hadn’t expected this, whatever this was, to happen.

She was in the mess hall with Eiffel, who for the most part, was focusing on his work with a diligence she assumed was abnormal. His meal-in-a-glass floated aimlessly around his head, the communications officer reading through logs of his equipment and making notes on various portions of the pages as he flipped through. That wasn’t the weird part though. The weird part was when Solberg-Hilbert floated in, got his meal, saw Eiffel lounging, and joined him. Rather than remarking on this strange occurrence, Eiffel only shuffled his limbs into a better position when the doctor leaned against him and looped his fingers through one of Eiffel’s belt loops to keep them from separating.

Lovelace stared, blinking in confusion. There was an easy conversation at this point, Hilbert asking about Eiffel’s paperwork, and getting one of the man’s odd responses. As the conversation dissolved into what she was discovering was familiar bickering, she felt like she was intruding. How long had this been going on?

 “You boys got started without me,” A voice popped up over the noise, Minkowski floating in with her own data-pad. “And you took the good Doug spot.”

 “Sorry Commander,” “You were too slow.” Came the overlapping responses, the smug response from Hilbert. Whatever spot he had claimed leaning against Eiffel was apparently, the best.

 “No worries, that just means I get the coveted leg spot on Dr. Hilbert.”  Which Minkowski took with glee, the three of them now forming an odd little triangle.

 “Aw man, Commander! I thought I was the best lounge spot.” Eiffel sighed dramatically, as if this argument had happened before, and regardless of losing it every single time, he was going to have it again. Despite what his voice said, he hooked a foot around Minkowski’s ankle anyways when her legs swung across his.

 “What are you, twelve?” Hilbert’s voice held no venom, a gentle scoff at the situation before returning to his data-pad after Minkowski tucked her free hand around his arm to keep their triangle in place.

 “Yes, he is, we’ve discussed this already. Back to work.” Her voice was one of command, silencing the starting debate before it could even take flight.

 Silence settled over the room. None of them had even noticed Lovelace floating in the corner, her coffee cooling in her grip. If she squinted, she could pretend her old crew was there, comfortably leaning against each other and arguing about things of varying levels of importance. In this world, Eiffel broke the quiet with something nonsensical, presumably picking it up from reading over Hilbert’s arm judging by the man’s response. Minkowski only sighed as the two men fired up.

 It was comfortable, Lovelace decided. As ridiculous as they were all were to one another, there was still something to be said about needing physical contact and they had figured out how to get along enough to share space for a moment. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and enjoying the overlapping memories crash into the present.  

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 5 - “Cigarette Candy”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

Eiffel: This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, recording from the comms room of the USS Hephaestus Station. It is day four hundred and ninety of our orbit around Wolf 359. How are you today, dear listeners? Is everything as it should be in your lives? It’s a beautiful day, here on the far side of our red dwarf star, and I [coughing] I feel great.

Eiffel: Y’know, this will come as a shock to most of you, but I’ve been known to, on rare occasion, be a tiny bit of a downer. I don’t make a point of it, but once in a blue moon, I’ve given in to the temptation to – just for a second – see things from the glass half-empty side. Just a little. But no more. That Doug Eiffel is dead. The new me, Doug Eiffel 2.0, is a changed man. A man who’s ready to look on the bright, sunshine-y side. Even though I’m still bored out of my skull, I’ve got this stupid skin rash that’s driving me nuts. But anyway, happy thoughts! For example, something wonderful happened two days ago.

[insistent knocking on the door]

Eiffel: And speaking of that...

[door opens and closes]

Eiffel: [joyfully] Hi, Dr. Hilbert!

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel, how are you tonight?

Eiffel: Fantastic, Doctor. Does your stopping by mean I get my [coughs] dose for the day?

Hilbert: Hm. Your cough has gotten worse since yesterday. Let me examine.

Eiffel: Please Doctor, I don’t think that’s really necessar- [muffled]

Hilbert: Your glands are swollen. Your uvula is very irritated.

Eiffel: It’s nothing, Doc. Now can I –

Hilbert: Could provide a very strong antibiotic that could –

Eiffel: That’s – That’s fine, Hilbert, but before you do that, could you gimme those –

Hilbert: It is important to address these health concerns right away, otherwise they could –

Eiffel: Dr. Hilbert. Do you have something for me?

Hilbert: Hm? Ah, yes, your nicotine lozenges, synthesised a new batch for you this afternoon. Here you are.

Eiffel: Oh, you are a great man, Dr. Hilbert. A great man.

Hilbert: Empirically. However, please conserve the batch this time. These are a sophisticated method of fighting symptoms of withdrawal. Not gas station breath mints.

Eiffel: Oh, you know me. Everything in moderation, and all that. Well Doc, great to see you. Thanks for stopping by! Let’s do this again tomorrow.

Hilbert: You’re welcome. Oh, and Eiffel – let me know if you experience any o-

[door slams shut]

[wrapper rustling]

Eiffel: I [coughs] I cannot even begin to tell you how much this is the stuff, dear listeners. The first batch tasted like cinnamon, but by my request, he was able to customise the second to taste like day-old ashtray. He’s literally made me cigarette candy! And it’s the best thing ever.

[Eiffel sighs in enjoyment]

Eiffel: But he’s right though. I gotta slow down with these things. I’ll only have two... no, three. Yeah no, definitely just four. Just four at a time. From the USS Hephaestus Station, this is Officer Eiffel, signing off. Goodnight!

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: [tiredly] Hello again dear listeners. This is the log of Officer Eiffel [coughs] recording on day four hundred [coughing fit] Oh, sorry about that. I’m not feeling so great today. My throat’s killing me. I’ve been kinda woozy all day. Y’know what the worst part is - I’m almost out of these lozenges.

[insistent knocking on the door]

[door opens and closes]

Eiffel: Ah Doctor, impeccable timing.

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel! You look terrible.

Eiffel: Ah, um, I’m fine. Don’t even worry about it. It’s just... a space cold, or something.

Hilbert: That’s not how things work on a spaceship. Come here.

Eiffel: Now, just –

Hilbert: Come. Here.

[pause]

Hilbert: You’re running a fever. Have you been experiencing any discomfort? Aside from your throat.

Eiffel: Um... uh, I’ve kind of had a headache all day. Oh, and my back’s been kinda weird and itchy for the last three days.

Hilbert: Let me take a look.

[pause]

Hilbert: Alright, any muscle pain?

Eiffel: Nah... not really.

Hilbert: Hm. This skin has reacted with such an advanced case of morbilliform, but not myalgia yet. Fascinating.

Eiffel: Wait, yet?

Hilbert: Hm?

Eiffel: You just said [coughs] what do you mean, yet?

Hilbert: Yet? Oh drat, English such inelegant cudgel of a language. Occasional errors inevitable. Next question, how many nicotine lozenges have you had in the past twenty-four hours?

Eiffel: What? Um... All the ones you gave me yesterday, I guess, but... what does that have to do with an... Nicotine lozenges.

Hilbert: All of them? Already? You must space them out. I shall have to get you a fresh batch.

Eiffel: No, stop. What is this? Is there – Is there something in these lozenges?

Hilbert: Of course there’s something in them. [voice slightly echoing] Nicotine polycrylics, about five milligrams of phenylalanine, sucrose for flavour. Very simple chemical formula.

Eiffel: No. No, what I – [coughs] – is there – is there something in them that’s making me sick?

Hilbert: [increasingly echoing] Officer Eiffel, you’re looking very weak. Maybe you should – Officer Eiffel?

Eiffel: Huh? Wha- Where?

Hilbert: You fainted in the comms room, Officer Eiffel. I’ve moved you back to your quarters.

Eiffel: Hilbert? What’s going on here? What’s in those lozenges? Are you – you’re not making me sick, right?

Hilbert: What possible reason could there be for doing that?

Eiffel: R-Right, exactly. Besides, you’re a doctor, you’re like... morally opposed to doing anything like that. Do no harm, and so on.

Hilbert: Oh, not really. My PhD is in molecular biology. Theoretical scientist first, practical medicine more of a... past-time. Always saw Hippocratic oath as leaving one with a very limited scope. True science mustn’t be so severely hindered.

Eiffel: So... that’s a no. I’m not making you sick, right?

Hilbert: You’re sweating, Officer Eiffel. You’re running a very high fever. Impaired judgement and delusional fixations very common. Pay them no heed.

Eiffel: Just answer the damn question! Also, follow-up question: why am I tied to the bed?

Hilbert: Bed rest is crucial for a man in your condition. Restraints crude, but necessary measure to ensure peaceful, restive state. Very conducive to... speedy recovery.

Eiffel: But – but –

Hilbert: No buts. Just bedrest.

Eiffel: But – But Minkowski’s going to get on my case if I don’t show up for my cleaning shift later today!

Hilbert: Already taken care of. I have spoken to the Commander, requested that she give me unrestrained authority over your movements and schedule, until such a time as you have a clean bill of health.

Eiffel: I bet she didn’t like that one bit.

Hilbert: On the contrary. She agreed it was a necessary measure. Very enthusiastic at the idea of your absence.

Eiffel: Oh, great. Um, how long do you think we need to keep these restraints?

Hilbert: For as long as it takes. Now rest! I have taken the liberty of disconnecting all components of the intercom system in this room, to get the maximum quiet! I am leaving your daily dose of lozenges secured right here at this table, within your arm’s reach. Make sure you take them regularly. It would be a pity to come so far, only to lose progress at this point. Don’t worry. You’re in extremely capable hands. Goodnight!

[door opens and closes]

Eiffel: Well, at least he did me the courtesy of leaving my portable recording device attached to my shirt. [sniffs] Ugh, I’m not sure if you can hear me, dear listeners. If you’re still with me, don’t worry. This sounds bad, but I know the comms system better than anyone, and I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to completely cut off a room. Case in point: hey Hera! Do me a favour and patch me through to Commander Minkowski, will ya? My hands are indisposed at the moment.

[silence]

Eiffel: Hera? Are you there? Hello?

[silence]

Eiffel: Um, okay. I may be in slightly more dire straits than I previously thought. Especially [coughs] because I’m seeing four – no, five – no, definitely four of everything right now. I’m – I’m going to shut this recording off for now. I feel I might need to make this battery last for a bit. I will... break radio silence again when I have one of my [coughs] patented escape plans figured out. I’ll talk to you soon, dear listeners. I hope.

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: [very tiredly] Hi again folks. I’m still here. Still under restraints. Still trapped. But still alive! No thanks to Dr. Hilbert though. I’ve no idea why he’s making me sick, but I know it’s him. I was fine before he started feeding me those things, and now... I [coughs] It’s been three days since I last talked to you. At least, I think it’s been three days. It’s always a little hard to be sure in this place. I’ve been... going in and out of consciousness a lot. I’ve only had contact with Hilbert for that entire time. He’s got me completely isolated, [coughs] just comes in a few times a day to give me food, some pills that are probably designed to turn my insides into radioactive goo. [coughing] And more of those damn lozenges. I’ve no idea what’s going on with the rest of the crew. I’ve no idea if they even know I’m still alive. Who knows what that maniac’s told them. I gotta let them know what’s going on, get them to save me before he gives me the full Nick Riviera. [laughter that turns into coughing] Jokes on ol’ Comrade Crazy though, I’ve only been pretending to take his pills. Stick ‘em under my tongue, then spit them into my jacket pocket the second he leaves the room. Sooner or later, my body will metabolise whatever crap’s already in my system. Then we’ll see how he likes it when someone’s messing around with his internal organs. [coughing] Even better than that though, I think I’ve figured out a way to get out of this. It took a bit of ingenuity, but –

[door opens and closes]

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel! Did I just hear you... talking to someone?

Eiffel: Who me? No. Of course not. I was just resting. Who would I even be talking to?

Hilbert: I definitely heard the sound of your voice.

Eiffel: I was just... recording my daily log. You know me, keeping up with regulations!

Hilbert: Indeed. How... dutiful of you. Ever diligent in your work, aren’t you.

Eiffel: Haha, that’s me! Me to a T. And speaking of that, don’t you think it’s time for me to get back to work? ‘Cause honestly, I don’t think I’m even sick anymore. I feel great!

Hilbert: ... Do you?

Eiffel: Never better! Not in my life! [coughing fit]

Hilbert: How many fingers am I holding up?

Eiffel: The Fifth Amendment says I don’t have to answer that question.

Hilbert: How many fingers? Simple question for a man in robust state of health, no?

Eiffel: ... Four?

Hilbert: Four?

Eiffel: ... Ish?

Hilbert: No, Eiffel. It was not four-ish fingers.

Eiffel: [explosively] What are you doing to me, you crazy science freak? What kind of sick experiment is this?

Hilbert: [exasperated groan] Not this again, for goodness’ sake Eiffel, you need to abandon this delusion. The only experiment here is one you are conducting on my patience. You’re running a fever of a hundred and five degrees, and fighting an aggressive infection in your pulmonary system. I’m only trying to help you get better. An enterprise that would be a lot easier if there was no need to grind your medicine into your food and administer it intravenously while you sleep!

Eiffel: Well, you know – What? You’ve – you’re smuggling drugs into me?

Hilbert: I’m good doctor. I can tell when someone has not been following prescribed procedure. All I did was take necessary measures for your health.

Eiffel: I – You – You have no right to do that! This is insane!

Hilbert: When patient does not trust doctor, doctor cannot trust patient. Now listen to me very carefully. I have every intention of seeing this through to the end. There are certain people who have to be dragged, kicking and screaming towards improvement. You are one of those people, Officer Eiffel. Sincerely hope that you will start listening to me, stop wasting your energy, and rest. You’re going to need it.

Eiffel: Hilbert.

[door opens]

Eiffel: Hilbert!

[door slams shut]

Eiffel: Hilbert!

Eiffel: Okay, okay. Don’t panic. Remember the plan. Just remember the plan. [coughing fit] Hilbert doesn’t know this, but I keep one of my tool bags by my cot. Took a lot of squirming, but I was able to reach it. Nothing in there that could cut through the restraints, but I was able to make some pretty clutch adjustments to this little recorder. I think I might be able to broadcast a short-range transmission. Talk to Minkowski. Alright. Here goes nothing.

[radio tuning noises]

[long beep]

Eiffel: Oh my god, yes! Yes yes yes! I’m good. Got it, I’m transmitting. Commander? Commander, do you copy? [coughing fit] Look, I don’t have much time. [sniffs] If you can hear me. Hilbert is holding me hostage in my room. He’s force-feeding me drugs and making me sick. I think he’s using me as pat of some sick experiment. I need to get out of here. I need your help. I need –

Hilbert: [over the radio] What you need, Eiffel, is to stop wasting your energies. I assure you; I have taken every precaution to provide you with distraction-free environment. Including a blockade of all short-wave transmissions. Now, go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow!

Eiffel: What? Why? W-What’s happening tomorrow? Hilbert? Hello? [pause] Oh god!

[two static bursts]

[static burst]

Eiffel: Well, dear listeners. This might be it. I’ve only got a little bit of battery left in this recorder, so uh, might as well use it. Y’know, I always thought I’d die in a science fair. Turns out I wasn’t that far off. Commander, I’ve always kind of suspected that you’d sneak into my room and NSA your way through my personal logs. If that’s the case, I hope you’re able to find this one. Be careful with Hilbert. Don’t take anything he gives you. [sniffs] And lock your doors at night. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but –

[door opens and closes]

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel. The time has come.

Eiffel: T-T-Time? Time for what?

Hilbert: Please, hold still.

Eiffel: Wait. Wait no. What’s in the bag? Hilbert, what are y – no no no no no. W-What are you doing with that knife? Wait. No, please. Let’s talk about this. I-I’m sure there’s all kinds of experiments you could run on me. You don’t have to do this. Please, let’s be reasonable. Just please, don’t cut – no, please don’t –

Eiffel: - Uh...

Hilbert:  Was simply removing your restraints, Officer Eiffel.

Eiffel: My - My restraints?

Hilbert: Yes. No longer necessary. Your fever broke last night. And all signs of infection are gone. You are, as they say, good to go.

Eiffel: I – I am?

Hilbert: Absolutely. Come on.

Eiffel: B-b-but... What was all that stuff about resting up and needing my strength for today?

Hilbert: You’re back on active rotation. You have a shift in two hours.

Eiffel: Oh. So... it wasn’t you.

Hilbert: Of course not.

Eiffel: Oh. Then... what was it that was making me sick?

Hilbert: Glad you finally asked. You were infected by a tropical flu.

Eiffel: A tropical flu?

Hilbert: There are a few samples of it in my laboratory. For experimental purposes. I hypothesised you were accidentally exposed during your recent stay there. May owe you an apology for that.

Eiffel: Oh. I guess that makes sense. Uh... thank you.

Hilbert: Thanks not necessary. Simply doing my job.

Eiffel: ... Sure. And... uh, I’m sorry for thinking you were running some kind of evil experiment on me.

Hilbert: Your imagination is incomparable, Officer Eiffel. But I must admit, a little disappointment. Just because I am scientist, does not mean I am mad ingenious supervillain, no?

Eiffel: Fair point. You really gotta work on your bedside manner though, Doc.

Hilbert: Bedside manner is like anaesthetic. It just gets in the way of what needs to be done.

Eiffel: Well, that about sums up the problem, I guess.

[rapid high-pitched beeping]

Eiffel: Oh hell, my recording device is still going. It’s almost out of battery. One sec, Hilbert.

Eiffel: Well, it looks like I was wrong about that situation, dear listeners. I feel like there’s a lesson to be had here, but it’s kind of lost in all the hallucinations right now. I’ll get back to it. From the Hephaestus Station, this is Officer Doug Eiffel, signing off! Say Doc, you wouldn’t happen to have more of those lozenges on you, would ya?

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. Wanna get Dr. Hilbert’s recipe for homemade cigarette candy? Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

Transcription by @saltssaumure

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 3 - “Discomforts, Pains, and Irregularities”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

[begin announcement beep-boop]

Hera: Attention! The following is a message from Dr. Hilbert. "Fellow crew members, it is again time for our biannual physical and wellness check. Please remain calm. Report to the laboratory immediately. I understand the prospect of these mandatory examinations can excite nausea, lethargy, and a powerful urge to run – run far away. Far, far away. These feelings are completely ordinary yet must be suppressed. These examinations are vital to keeping the Hephaestus an operational disease-free environment, as well as an unparalleled cache of live data in the cold abyss of space. The fearful enormity of which I add, one cannot escape into. As usual, please bring a list of all known allergies, a change of clothing, and something to bite down on. And yes, before anyone asks about it, the surgical drill is absolutely necessary. See you soon!”

[end announcement beep-boop]

Eiffel: [softly] Oh, man.

Eiffel: This is the log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, on day four hundred and eighty-two of the Hephaestus mission. But this isn’t just any day, dear listeners. No. This, is a day of darkness. A low tide. A half-melted fudgesicle of despair. It’s physical day here on the station. I’ve spent all day avoiding Dr. Hilbert. There was a moment this afternoon when I thought he’d cornered me in the bathroom. But I was able to avoid him by squeezing into the crawl space underneath the sink. Certain people might call spending two and a half hours in a cramped hole in the wall, just to avoid a mandatory physical examination, unreasonable. Some would call it only delaying the inevitable. To those people, I say –

[begin intercom buzz]

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel! Are you busy?

Eiffel: Incredibly! Utterly, busier than I have ever been, and might possibly... ever... again be!

Hilbert: Oh. You are aware that today is crewmember physical examination day, correct?

Eiffel: Painfully.

Hilbert: Well, please make your way to my laboratories, so we can begin collecting samples. As you know, it is a very time intensive process.

Eiffel: As irresistible as you make that sound, Doctor, unfortunately I’m preoccupied with some important matters that require my full attention.

Hilbert: What matters?

Eiffel: Well I’m – Well I’m calibrating the... uh... reception of the... radio array to allow a direct reception of the hertz to increase our... um... Roger coefficient on the... primary... frequency...

Hilbert: You are doing a diagnostic of our deep space comm system?

Eiffel: Couldn’t have put it better myself.

Hilbert: Oh my, Officer Eiffel! That is very simple. Hera can run that program through automated functions.

Hera: He’s right, Officer Eiffel, it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.

Eiffel: If- If only it were that simple. Unfortunately um, the power outages from a while back knocked out some of the circuitry. So I need to reset the entire system manually.

Hilbert: Manually?

Eiffel: Manually. Honestly Doc, this might be a while. Why don’t you take a seat in my waiting room?

Hilbert: Oh, no. If you’re delayed then I must secure Commander Minkowski’s participation first. I will call on you later, Eiffel.

[end intercom buzz]

Eiffel: [sigh of relief] That was too close. He’s like a friggin’ shark sniffing for chum! And thanks a lot, Hera!

Hera: I was just trying to be helpful.

Eiffel: What you were trying to do was be an accessory before the fact. Also, I have a bone to pick with you. This morning I asked if we have any hot water left, and you said we did.

Hera: Correct.

Eiffel: But when I hopped in the shower, the water was freezing.

Hera: Correct again. That is an accurate summation of your sensory experience!

Eiffel: So what happened?

Hera: Dr. Hilbert used all the hot water on a radiation experiment in the greenhouse. The report we gave you about its availability was an outright fabrication.

Eiffel: So – you lied to me?

Hera: Lying is a word with many negative connotations, Officer Eiffel. I prefer to think that I tactically misrepresented the available data.

Eiffel: So you tactically lied to me.

Hera: Previous observation suggested that you would refrain from showering if you knew there was no hot water. Given pre-existing concerns amongst the crew about your hygiene, this was deemed an unacceptable outcome.

Eiffel: Wait, the crew’s concerned about my hygiene?

Hera: Commander Minkowski has made eliminating your persistent body odour a priority one task.

Eiffel: I don’t have persistent body odour!

Hera: Analysis of the mineral content in the air around you suggests that –

Eiffel: I’m not going to sit here and get lectured on how I smell by someone that doesn’t have a nose. I can’t take showers in freezing cold water.

Hera: Actually, Officer Eiffel, data collected this morning shows that you are in fact perfectly capable of taking a shower with freezing cold water.

Eiffel: Just don’t lie to me again, Hera.

Hera: You place too much judgement on the concept of lying, Officer Eiffel. Remember the old saying: “Words cannot harm you; it is only sticks and stones that can fracture human’s bones, and break his feeble, delicate flesh”. Or... should I give Dr. Hilbert a call and tell him that you are available after all?

Eiffel: Alright, fine, let’s drop this train of thought. It pulls into a station my delicate, feeble flesh can’t handle.

Hera: Very well. Also, Commander Minkowski asked me to make sure you got the message she left in the comms room.

Eiffel: Hmm. Oh, I was wonder what that thing taped to my door was. Let’s see. Eiffel... been noticing something strange in the greenhouse... unusual growth in the... aggressive tendencies... [yawn] ...might compromise safety if left unchecked... going back to do observation... contact at once... alright, I officially have no idea what she’s going on about.

[begin intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Hey Commander?

Minkowski: Eiffel. About time.

Eiffel: Only just got your memo. What’s got you all DEFCON 2 over there?

Minkowski: A few hours ago I wandered into the greenhouse while uh... con-conducting an inspection tour of the station.

Eiffel: You mean avoiding Hilbert.

Minkowski: The details are unimportant. While I was here, I noticed that one of our plant samples is looking... rather... strange.

Eiffel: Strange how?

Minkowski: It’s gotten big. Very big. It’s almost five times as large as our next biggest sample. And it’s got all these... I-I guess they’re roots? They stretch out of its pot and go into the ones around it. It almost looks like it’s trying to starve out the other samples.

Eiffel: The thing’s probably just hungry, give it some soylent chow or something and call it a night.

Minkowski: No, I think – I think this might be a problem. I’m going to stay here and observe the situation.

Eiffel: Observe?

Minkowski: Yeah, just to see if there are any changes in the next few hours.

Eiffel: Few hours? Oh... right!

Minkowski: What?

Eiffel: [glibly] Nothing at all. Commander, I think you’re right. This sounds like a sensitive situation and you should give it your undivided attention.

Minkowski: ... You do?

Eiffel: [glibly] Absolutely! Who knows what problems this could lead to if left unchecked.

Minkowski: Exactly!

Eiffel: [glibly] Yeah. I’m with you one hundred percent.

Minkowski: Great! That’s... well refreshing! Well, I’ll keep you updated on any developments.

Eiffel: Please do!

Minkowski: Minkowski out.

[end intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Heh. Mutant space plants? Y’know, as far as lies to avoid physical examinations go, that’s more colourful than I would’ve expected from her. But, I’ll play along. Anything for a fellow truant.

[begin announcement beep-boop]

Hera: Attention crewmembers. In an effort to make today’s physical examinations as effective as possible, Dr. Hilbert has asked me to relay the following list of simple dos and don’ts to you. Just follow these simple tips and exercise a bit of common sense, and your physical will be over before the damage is irreparable.

Hera: Do make list of any discomforts, pains, or irregularities that you are currently experiencing before the start of today’s examination. It’ll do nothing to relieve them, but after the discomforts, pains, and irregularities of the examination, they will seem trivial in comparison.

Hera: Don’t forget: once the examination starts, there’s no way to stop it until it’s done. The off switch on our machine quite literally ceases to function once the test is in effect, so take a moment to prepare yourself before we start. Above everything else, do what you can to avoid passing out, as your losing consciousness might tamper with the results and force a restart of examination.

Hera: Do remember that anaesthetics have their limits; certain kinds of pains are beyond the comforting embrace of narcotics. There are no anaesthetics involved in your upcoming physical, but this is just a good thing to keep in mind at all times.

Hera: Don’t worry, no one has ever died from one of our physical examinations. You might, however, be surprised by what you can live through. Good luck!

[end intercom beep-boop]

Eiffel: Do remember that the test is run by a sadistic piece of work who should be avoided at all costs. You might think that I’m making a big fuss over nothing, dear listeners, but I cannot begin to tell you how awful these physicals are. In fact, don’t take my word for it. Here’s a recording I made six months ago, the last time I went through one of comrade Dr. Moreau’s little wellness checks.

[begin recording playback]

Hilbert: Officer Eiffel! I said cough!

[drill whirrs]

Eiffel: [sobbing] I don’t wanna!

Hilbert: Cough! Now!

Eiffel: [sobbing weak cough]

[drill whirring loudly, Eiffel screams]

[end recording playback]

Eiffel: That was just stage one. I’ll spare you stages two through twenty-one. Here’s a pro tip. If a doctor ever uses the phrases “optic nerve” and “will only hurt for a second” in the same sentence, you tell him to go f -

[begin intercom buzz]

Eiffel: - frequencies! Amplitudes! Watts! Buttons! I’m working.

Minkowski: Eiffel!

Eiffel: [sigh of relief] It’s only you, Commander. How’s plant watch?

Minkowski: The situation might be more serious than I thought. I set up some cameras to be able to monitor the sample from outside the greenhouse. On the monitors, I saw the plant sample writhing. Writhing and growing. But then, as soon as I went back into the greenhouse, it was perfectly still. Eiffel. I think this thing might be... able to tell when I’m here, and when I’m not. I think it might be intelligent enough to play dead.

Eiffel: [glibly] Oh dear Commander. That sounds really alarming. You’d better make getting to the bottom of this your first priority.

Minkowski: Oh absolutely. It has to take precedence over everything.

Eiffel: [glibly] I think that’s a sound decision.

Minkowski: Right. I’m going to go see what kind of weedkiller we have in our supply shed. You, stay on the line in case I need backup.

Eiffel: Roger that.

[end intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Well again. More outlandish than I would’ve gone for, but I guess your lies get bigger as you go higher up in the ranks.

[knocking on the door]

Hilbert: [from behind the door] Officer Eiffel? Can I come in?

Eiffel: Um... this is kind of a bad time Doc, I’m still in the middle of that uh...

Hilbert: Diagnostics of our deep space comm system!

Eiffel: That’s the one.

Hilbert: Excellent. Here to help!

Eiffel: [alarmed] H-help?

Hilbert: Yes, help! Don’t just know about molecular biology, you know? Expert at computational radiology. Very relaxing as far as sciences go.

Eiffel: You don’t say.

Hilbert: Yes! And conclude that I could lend a hand. Besides, the sooner we’re done with diagnostic of communication system, the sooner we can start with the diagnostic of communications officer!

Eiffel: Oh Doctor. You don’t need to do that! I wouldn’t wanna – bother a man of your talents with such simple matters as – this thing that I’m doing.

Hilbert: Please, Eiffel, no bother at all. Always thrilled to assist a fellow crewmember. Besides, in this case, helping in this case is its own reward. That, and the spinal fluid samples!

Eiffel: ...Yes. Well. The thing is, well, Dr. Hilbert – I’m gonna be straight with you, alright.

Hilbert: Absolutely. I accept no less than that.

Eiffel: Great. The- The truth is, the truth is that –

[intercom buzz]

Eiffel: - The truth is that Commander Minkowski needs my help with a priority one mission.

Hilbert: Oh?

Eiffel: Yeah. And you know how the commander is, gotta get right to it.

[intercom buzz]

Hilbert: She did mention something about an... aggressive parasitic agent a little while ago.

Eiffel: Right, exactly. So, unfortunately I’m gonna have to take care of that before we get to my physical.

Hilbert: [dejectedly] Very well. Will check on you in a little bit.

Eiffel: [long sighs of relief] Wow, saved by the bell!

[several open intercom buzzes]

Eiffel: Commander, I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but right now I could kiss you.

Minkowski: [increasingly panicked] Eiffel. That plant sample? It’s not playing dead any more. It’s growing, and growing, and growing – it’s cut me off from the door, and its roots are stretching all over the walls, it’s got – oh god, in the middle of all the stems and moss, I think I see an eye – I think this thing is looking at me!

Eiffel: Uh... Commander? I appreciate a good story as much as the next guy, but don’t you think this is getting a little 1950s drive-in?

Minkowski: I don’t know what kind of joke you think this is, but I don’t have time to unravel it. Get up here with a flamethrower and help me kill this thing.

Eiffel: Really...? I’ve got this...

Minkowski: Eiffel!

Eiffel: Ah alright alright, I’ll be there in a moment. Hold on while I indulge my commanding officer, dear listeners. I’ve never used the flamethrower before, so this might be fun!

[door opens]

[over the intercom]

Eiffel: Alright, here I am, let’s get this- Oh my god, you’re being serious?

Minkowski: Of course I was being serious, why the hell would I lie about something like this?

Eiffel: To get out of Hilbert’s physical!

Minkowski: I would nev- Alright fine, it kinda started out that way, but now it’s serious. Don’t just stand there, for god’s sake, help me kill this thing!

Eiffel: With what? Harsh language?

Minkowski: With napalm, you moron! Did you even check the arms locker?

Eiffel: Oh. The one you won’t give me access to? Wait. What’s it doing? What is... are those teeth?

[gurgling noises]

Eiffel: No! No! Wait! No don’t –

Minkowski: Eiffel!

Eiffel: [muffled scream]

[static]

[back in the comms room]

Eiffel: [out of breath] Hi again, dear listeners. So, it seems that I may have uh... misjudged the conversations I was having with Minkowski earlier. Turns out, she wasn’t just making up an excuse to avoid Dr. Hilbert’s physicals after all. But rather, she had actually found a... space mutant plant monster. I don’t have the time right now to give you all the details of the Commander and I’s miraculous escape, but the uh... I guess we call it a creature, fled into one of the station’s air vents. Its current whereabouts are unknown. [inhale] And Minkowski and Hilbert are arming themselves with whatever weapons they can find or make, and Hera’s shutting down all the non-essential vents to limit the creature’s path. [inhale] With any luck, we’ll be able to track down and kill it before it manages to corner any of us. Which means... Which means our physical examinations are suspended... indefinitely! Haha, on account of a station-wide emergency! Yes! [laughter] Oh yes! This has been a good day, my friends. A good day. Recording from the comms room on the Hephaestus station, this is Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, signing off. Goodnight folks. Goodnight!

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. The role of Minkowski was played by Emma Sherr-Ziarko. And the role of Hera was played by Michaela Swee. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. Wanna find out more about stages two through twenty-one of Dr. Hilbert’s physical examinations? Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

----

Transcript by @saltssaumure

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 8 - “Box 953”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

Eiffel: [sighs in irritation] Hey everyone. This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel. It’s day five hundred and twenty-five of the Hephaestus mission. If this recording sounds slightly... different from my usual logs, it’s because today, I’m not broadcasting from the comms room. I’ve relocated to the station’s storeroom for today’s session. Just... y’know, it’s always good to... get a change of scenery, and if you get to avoid Commander Minkowski and her undying self-righteous fury, all the better. We’re having another one of those days at the station, dear listeners. A bad day. And I mean, you know me. I’m the very picture of courage in the face of danger, and all that, but trust me – in this case, discretion is the better part of valor.

[announcement chime]

Minkowski: Crew of the Hephaestus. This is Commander Minkowski. As I know that you are all keenly aware, it is time for our quarterly talent show. I know that you’re aware of this, because it has been clearly marked as compulsory in the station calendar for the past two weeks, and because I have been posting regular reminders throughout the station. And because I told the both of you today at breakfast. And at lunch. So, imagine my surprise when I got down to the cargo bay, and neither of you were there. I can only assume that it’s because you’re putting finishing touches on your acts for today. Which is nothing if not commendable. But don’t push it. I’m making this announcement from the comms room, where I can’t help but notice that you’re not, Eiffel. I’m just going to assume that it’s because we narrowly missed each other, when I was coming up here, and you were going down. And by the time I make it back to the cargo bay, you’ll be there. Ready to enthusiastically dazzle us with some talent. One that does not involve smoke rings.

Eiffel: [under his breath] Fascist.

Minkowski: Same goes for you, Dr. Hilbert. This is a mandatory event. So don’t make me come and get you. We’re going to boost morale, we’re going to bond as a crew, and we’re going to have a great time doing it, even if I have to drag both of you kicking and screaming into it. Minkowski out.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: Drop the mic, why don’t ya. Y’know, it’s bad enough when she makes us do something just because it’s military protocol, but I think she actually really cares about these talent shows. But friends, they’re a few dramatic poetry readings beyond my breaking point. I can deal with the bad food, the low shower pressure, and lack of Simpsons reruns around here. But I have my limits. It’s either not smoking, or Sylvia Plath’s Lady Lazarus. Not both of them together. So, until this whole thing blows over, I’m gonna be luxuriating in the remotest, darkest, hiding-spottiest corner I could find in the entire station. You know what the scariest part of all of this is though? For once, Hilbert and I actually agree on something. If anything, I think he might hate Minkowski’s little talent shows even more than I do. In fact, let’s see how the enemy of my enemy is doing.

[open intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Hey Dr. Hilbert, how are you doing? Looks like the witching time of night is upon us, eh?

Hilbert: One moment, Eiffel. Delicate process, time is of the essence.

Eiffel: Yeah, no kidding. Sounds like Hurricane Minkowski’s on the move. You holed up somewhere yet?

Hilbert: Nyet. I have reconsidered that strategy since our confronts this afternoon. Have decided to tackle problem... more directly.

Eiffel: Oh?

Hilbert: Upon further reflection, I remember that I do in fact possess many talents, among them biochemistry.

Eiffel: Already I don’t like where this is going.

Hilbert: Well, I’m now putting the finishing touches on a rather powerful concoction. I will submit this to Commander Minkowski as my entry for the talent show, claiming that is a... combination nerve tonic, energy drink, and breath freshener. That, however, will be a clever lie!

Eiffel: What’s it actually do? Turn her into a frog?

Hilbert: Nothing so elaborate. Just powerful sedative and narcotic. It will knock her out for the next twelve hours. Plenty of time for the talent show window to elapse, and allow us to focus on our real work.

Eiffel: Y’know, Doctor, you can’t solve all your problems by knocking someone out.

Hilbert: People keep saying that, and yet, my problems keep going away.

[a droplet falls into liquid and fizzing begins]

Hilbert: There, completed. Stand by Eiffel. I will report once the situation has been neutralised.

Eiffel: Godspeed, Doc.

[close intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Well, until we get a confirmation that the coast is clear, let’s just lay low, shall we? Y’know, I’ve never really paid attention to this storeroom before. It’s always just kind of been... here? We’ve never really needed anything from here, and... yeah, I don’t even know if I’ve even been in this room before. There must be hundreds of crates in here. They’ve all got a number printed on the side, and the Goddard Futuristics logo. They’re the corporate sponsor for this mission, so uh I guess they’re using this as... free storage space? What the hell are they even keeping up here?

[crate opens]

Eiffel: What the – Looks like this entire box is just... full of... dolls. Just those... weird, Russian dolls that you can open, and... there’s like a bunch of smaller dolls inside of them? Only, um. None of... them... have eyes. It’s just... a bunch of weird, eyeless Russian dolls. I’m just gonna leave this one alone.

[crate closes]

Eiffel: Well, that was really weird. Let’s see... hm... how about... box 239?

[crate opens]

Eiffel: Hm. Well, this one’s just full of pieces of paper. [rustling paper] Just a... big pile of... What? [chuckles] “Dear Santa, for Christmas this year I want a Harley-Davidson remote contr-” Holy crap. This is where these letters end up? Conspiracy revealed! Now I kind of need to see if this huge one has Santa in it or something. Box 56. Okay, let’s see.

[crate opens]

Eiffel: Holy crap. You guys! There’s a cannon in here! Why is there a cannon in here? W-What practical purpose, could a cannon possibly serve in outer space? I don’t – I [clicks] – Oh, wait a minute. I think I just saw – Yeah yeah yeah, okay.

[rustling paper]

Eiffel: There’s a manifest by the door that says what’s in each of these crates. Jeez. How long is this thing? Let’s see, let’s see... Box 217 has one thousand, three hundred and forty-six red L-shaped Lego blocks? Which first of all, why would anyone want that many L-shaped blocks? L blocks are useless.

[turning pages]

Eiffel: Box 300 has the individual pieces, for three full suits of armour, near mint condition? Never know when you might need one of those.

[turning pages]

Eiffel: Box 552 apparently has the... partial skull of unnamed megafauna specimen 58. Whatever that is. Oh, and there’s a note. “Please handle with care, and with a... vague feeling of existential dread”? Well, at least they’re specific.

[turning pages]

Eiffel: This is some Raiders of the Lost Ark level stuff here. [turning pages] I mean. I wonder if the Ark of the Covenant is tucked up under a yeti skull, or a scale model of Atlantis, or something.

[turning pages]

Eiffel: Um. What? [clears throat] I’m sorry listeners, I just – There’s a box that’s – It says here that box 953 is... “Reserved for Douglas Eiffel. Do not open under any circumstances”. Um... What?

[open intercom buzz]

[Minkowski singing “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General” in the background]

Hilbert: [whispered] Eiffel.

Eiffel: Can you hang on a moment, Doc?

Hilbert: [whispered] No, I cannot! Eiffel, situational norms here are catastrophically far from the stability of hanging!

Eiffel: Really? That’s nice.

Hilbert: [whispered] No, it’s not! I- I’m not sure what’s wrong, but my compound did not render the Commander unconscious! Instead, it just triggered some sort of... impaired euphoric effect on the subject.

Eiffel: Oh cool.

Hilbert: [whispered] No! It is not cool! It is diametrically opposed to cool! Eiffel. You do not understand – there is singing.

[Minkowski finishes singing and hiccups]

Hilbert: [whispered] This is an emergency! We require immediate assistance!

Eiffel: Sure sure, whatever you say.

Hilbert: [whispered] Eiffel!

Minkowski: [slurring] Hilbert? Who’re you talking to?

Hilbert: Oh um...

Minkowski: [slurring] You should... no talking. You should be focusing on making pirate costumes for the show! [gun racking] Shouldn’t you?

Hilbert: Y-Yes, Commander!

Minkowski: [slurring] Swashes and buckles, Hilbert! Swashes... and buckles. [hiccups] Alright. One more time from the top, Hera!

Hilbert: [whispered] Eiffel! Please hurry!

[close intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Why... Why is there a box that says “Reserved for Douglas Eiffel” up here? Like, does that mean that... whatever’s in the box is stuff for me? Or... is it that... I’m the one that – Where the hell is this box anyway? Alright. One second, dear listeners, l-let me see if I can find this thing. I’ll be right back.

[intermission music]

Eiffel: Hey again. So. I’ve spent the past two hours tearing this place apart, but I still haven’t been able to find box 953. I’ve found all sorts of other weird crap up here. Including the shrunken heads of Paul Harding, MD, and Associates. So, y’know, ew. [shuddering inhale] I’m still not sure where – Hang on. I think I – I think I see it. That’s definitely a nine, and a five, in that big box back there. One moment. Lemme check that out.

[open intercom buzz]

Hilbert: [whispered] Eiffel! Whatever action you’re taking to save me, you must hurry! Things have taken a turn for the worst. Commander Minkowski has demanded I make her ice-cream for the conclusion of the talent show. I tried to explain that I don’t have the necessary ingredients, but she just fired a shot past my head! I’m not sure if it was a warning shot, or if she just missed! I’m doing my best to create an approximation of ice cream, but, I fear what will happen when it fails the taste test! You need to do something before it’s –

Hilbert: Oh! Commander! I did not see you there!

Minkowski: [slurring] Did I – I didn’t tell you to talk to anyone, Doctor. I thought I told you to make ice-cream.

Hilbert: Oh yes, Commander.

Minkowski: [slurring] Good, good. Ice-cream is good. You know why, Hilbert?

Hilbert: W-W-Why? Commander?

Minkowski: [slurring] Because... I scream for ice-cream. I scream for ice-cream. You scream for ice-cream, right Doctor?

Hilbert: Of course! Of course I do.

Minkowski: Of course you do. I scream, you scream. I scream, you scream. We all scream for ice cream!

Hilbert: [muffled screaming]

[close intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Hm. Nope. Turns out that was box 957. Nothing in there, except for some old Farmer’s Almanacs, and some diaries belonging to someone called Victoire Fourier. Think it’s time to call in the cavalry. Hey Hera, can you hear me?

Hera: Yes, I can, Officer Eiffel. But can this wait for a moment, I’m trying to learn my lines.

Eiffel: Lines? Oh god, tell me you’re not getting sucked into Minkowski’s crazy talent show thing.

Hera: Pirates of Penzance is a classic of 19th-century comic opera. And sure, Isabel isn’t the biggest role in the play, but it’s a start!

Eiffel: There’s many things going wrong with what you just said, but I so don’t have the time right now. Listen, multi-task for a moment.

Hera: Eiffel, I’m always multi-tasking.

Eiffel: And help me out here. Do you have the storeroom manifest knocking around in your head somewhere?

Hera: Of course, basic item description and organisational imprint for all... one thousand and thirty-seven crates.

Eiffel: Okay. What can you tell me about number 953?

Hera: One second. [pauses] Um... Not much, it says it’s reserved for you, but... beyond that the records are blank.

Eiffel: Nothing else?

Hera: Not in my internal banks. Let me access the central memory banks on the Hephaestus compu-

Hera: [mechanically] Error. Inappropriate security clearance. File access denied. File access denied.

Hera: Ugh, god damn it.

Eiffel: You okay?

Hera: Yes. No. I hate when that happens! Do you have any idea how annoying it is to get kicked off a thought when you’re halfway through having it? Now I’m going to have a headache for the rest of the night.

Eiffel: So, you can’t tell me anything else?

Hera: No. There’s information in the system, but I don’t have the –

Hera: [mechanically] Error. Inappropriate security clearance. File access denied. File access denied.

Hera: Ugh!

Eiffel: Woah woah woah, don’t make yourself short circuit. Stop trying to access that file.

Hera: Easy for you to say! You try not thinking about something sometimes, see how easy it is. [sighs] I think I would need Commander Minkowski’s security codes to get that information.

Eiffel: Ugh, yeah, well that’s not happening any time in the near future. Could you at least tell me where this box is?

Hera: Oh. That I can do. It’s on the far side of the store room, right behind box 102.

Eiffel: Hera... What are you talking about? There’s nothing there, just – H-Holy crap. That’s box 953? I thought that was part of the wall!

Hera: Nope. That’s the one you’re looking for. [pauses] Uh, listen Eiffel? I’m gonna go. Commander Minkowski’s running me through the cues for the Act 1 finale, and I should really give her my full attention. Well. Full-ish attention.

Eiffel: So that’s box 953? [pauses] Um. It’s different from the other boxes. First of all, it’s... it’s large. I believe the technical military term is ginormous. You could probably fit an elephant in there. And it’s made out of some kind of black metal. And all the other boxes are restrained, but this one looks like it was bolted in place. How the hell do you even open this thing? Oh, I see, there’s a groove right there and, a hinge next to... this label that says “Keep closed at all times”. So. I-I guess this section just... swings outwards. Ah! And it’s cold! Box 953 is really, really cold, dear listeners. [exhales] Um. A-And there’s a sound coming from inside the box, it – it’s like this... humming. That kind of comes and goes.

[faint humming fades in]

Eiffel: It... kind of sounds like... [nervous chuckle] I almost said it sounded like a heartbeat, but, well, that would be crazy. That would be completely impossible and insane, right, dear listeners? Right?

[long pause]

Eiffel: I guess I could go. You know. L-Leave this alone. Walk away, get some coffee. Maybe see if I can get choir part in Minkowski’s musical extravaganza without getting shot in the face. [pauses] Nah, who am I kidding? I’m gonna go now, dear listeners. I’m gonna go... into box 953. I’m not sure what’s going to happen when I do. I don’t know what exactly is... reserved for me in there. But it seems like something I should know. I need to know. Okay. I’m leaving now, dear listeners. I’ll see ya on the other side.

[box opening in the distance]

[fizzling, then huge rolling explosion and shattering noise]

[sharp static burst]

[static burst]

Eiffel: Listeners, I’m back. I’m back not from the inside of box 953, as I’d hoped, but rather from a long series of complications. It’s been a... long, painful, frankly annoying three hours since I last talked to you. And a lot’s happened. I tried to open box 953. But I found that the lid had not only been set in place, but actually bolted and riveted to the box. In lieu of superhuman strength, I decided to get a crowbar from engineering. I’m guessing I must have only been out of the room for... like a minute or so, before Commander Minkowski came in. Apparently, she was looking for me because she needed a second pair of eyes to tell her if the prop sabre for her Major-General costume was a bit much. [inhales] I... [exhales in frustration] may have... forgotten to put the lid back on box 56. That would be the one with the um, cannon? Well, in her... let’s call it excited state, Commander Minkowski decided that a cannon would be just the thing to liven up the end of the second act of the play. So she decided to test it by drunkenly lighting the fuse, and blowing a hole in the station’s hull. Like you do. Between the air catching fire, and the depressurisation of the storeroom, and – Y’know what, let’s just say that by the time we got her back into the main structure and sealed off that room, practically all of the crates had left the building. And few minutes later, they’d fallen into a decaying orbit around the star! And a few minutes after that, they were incinerated into a pile of ash. Box 953 is gone, dear listeners. It’s gone, and I never found out what was inside of it. Once again, our quarterly talent shows have taken something away from me. Something that I can never, ever get back.

Eiffel: [breathes deeply] I guess I should be... grateful. Commander Minkowski only suffered minimal burns and frostbite injuries, and... once whatever crap Hilbert gave her wears off, should make a full recovery. I guess... I even have new stuff to tease her about, now that she’s unleashed her inner Bob Fosse. And I suppose there’s something to be said about the fact that we didn’t lose the entire station from that hull breach. That we didn’t all die in a blazing inferno. Or suffocate in the blackness of the void. Or freeze to death.

Eiffel: [angrily] But I really wanted to know what was inside box 953, dear listeners! I really wanted to know! [pauses] Ugh, thank god this day is over. From the communications room of the USS Hephaestus, this is Doug Eiffel signing off. Goodnight.

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. The role of Minkowski was played by Emma Sherr-Ziarko. And the role of Hera was played by Michaela Swee. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. Tonight’s episode featured “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General” from Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan. If you enjoyed tonight’s episode, please consider taking a moment to leave a review on our iTunes page. It’ll only take a moment, and unlike Minkowski’s talent show, will really help to boost morale amongst the crew. Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

Transcript by @saltssaumure.