TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[space_aces]

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD

Your journey only happened because of your benefactor, so it begets that it starts at your benefactor as well. SUPERBIA, which is as much of a location as it is an entity, is where everyone's search for Fortuna begins.

There's not much of a welcome party: shortly after their fateful encounter with SUPERBIA, in which they swore to join the quest to find Fortuna, the new Privateers will find themselves afflicted by a sudden change in perspective. See, teleportation is a tricky process, so from SUPERBIA's point of view, why not make the target destination none other than itself? One highly disconcerting moment later, and the Privateers find themselves inside the belly of the beast.

The vast mega-structure is shockingly lonely, void of anyone other than the Privateers. Those who look off the metal satellite and to The Network for intelligence (or take a skim at the Space Wikipedia article) will find out that the surrounding space is clear for lightyears; rumors have it that the place is cursed. It won't take long to understand why.

1

Overclocked

The innards of SUPERBIA are that of an impossibly scaled up computer, and the Privateers start right in the middle of it. You are the spider living in the dusty PS4. Literal rivers of coolant, transistors the size of mountains, landscapes made entirely of circuitry. The sky, bounded by a distant metal ceiling, is constantly alight with coursing electricity that cracks the sky with lightning storms. It can be assumed that the Privateers are the first living things to set foot here, because such a place is not ever meant to be traversed by delicate, organic, mortals that worry about things such as "temperature" or "voltage". SUPERBIA needs not lifeforms to continue its operations; why design for them? Traversal itself is difficult: unscalable walls and perilous drops are common to encounter. The only company the Privateers will find are oddly adorable maintenance robots, which sadly seem too occupied by their directives of maintaining the massive machine to offer any assistance (or even acknowledgement of their new guests).

It is immediately clear that the most urgent priority is to get the hell out of here. Before your adventure ends at the starting line.

2

Skeletons In The Closet

If one stays inside SUPERBIA, either by getting horribly lost or losing all common sense, one will notice a peculiar pattern emerge as one gets deeper into the bowels of the mega-structure. Passages shrink and become more level, and the incredible hostility and danger of the surroundings fade away, until one comes across areas which were definitely intended for humanoid organisms to use at one point.

The construction of these areas is cramped, unfurnished, and dreary; they are reminiscent of artificial environments meant to handle harsh external conditions like a submarine or bunker, but they are entirely livable. One can eventually find distinct rooms, but everything in them has crumbled to dust and their original purpose is nigh impossible to discern. Deeper investigation may reveal the few items that have stood the test of time. While it is more plausible for life to have existed here, that doesn't seem to be the case now. What happened here?

3

The Shipyard

In the opposite direction, when one finally reaches the outer edges of SUPERBIA, they will be rewarded with the place to pick up a spaceship and a stunningly beautiful view of outer space. The outside of SUPERBIA has no atmosphere to get between you and the stars, and they shine brightly, like a beacon calling one out into the first steps of adventure.

The shipyard is already filled with countless space ships of every size, form, and function, all autonomously constructed by SUPERBIA's factories over the countless years. What's the harm in taking one or twenty out for a spin? Even if one has no intentions of permanent ownership of the vehicle, it's not like SUPERBIA will miss it. For a Privateer with a more specific vision, however, there are kiosks around the yard which will allow one to design their very own space ship down to their exact specifications. When the process is done SUPERBIA's matter printers will have it out and space-ready right before your very eyes.

If a Privateer has a ship, vehicle, or large item that they intended to bring with them, they will also find them here, neatly parked in the Shipyard. Why didn't SUPERBIA extend this courtesy to the pilot's themselves? The answer is revealed as soon as the owner makes a closer inspection: the inner contents have been rearranged, like a whirlwind was unleashed inside and assorted loose items thrown around. Now aren't you glad your transportation was given special attention, and the same didn't happen to your innards?

4

Hot Crewmates in Your Area

But how will a single Privateer man an entire space ship? No worries: when one steps into a ship, the strangely endearing maintenance robots will suddenly take acute interest. The robots will follow inside and immediately start assuming the duties of a spacefarer, eliminating the need for extra hands on deck.

Even still, there's just no eliminating the want for a human touch, though. Thankfully even that dilemma has a contingency plotted by SUPERBIA.

Communication devices are easily available on every space ship. They come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from huge stationary consoles to portable smartphone-like screens. But whenever a Privateer attempts to access the Network, a pop-up will appear, obscuring the whole screen.

Tell me a little about yourself. Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER? What is your best feature?
The device will be rendered unusable until one relents to the pop-up's demands and provides answers to its questions. What will these be used for? The mystery will be solved when a social media app mysteriously installs itself on the same device, with profiles preemptively made for every Privateer. Each Privateer's profile consists of their given answers, paired with embarrassingly candid photographs. SUPERBIA has eyes in many places it seems.

Comments

Pioneer 10 | 17776

[pioneer10]

III. Shipyard
Pioneer 10 is an American space probe, launched in 1972 and weighing 260 kilograms, that completed the first mission to the planet Jupiter. Thereafter, she became the first of five artificial objects to achieve the escape velocity needed to leave the Solar System. And then, many centuries later, she was given new life by the vagaries of just how damn big space is, and how long forever can be.

And then she woke up. And now she's here.

No part of that existence, not the launch, the mission, the endless years, the dust and vast void, the emptiness of it all ever prepared her to be here. On the ground. In a shipyard. The Pioneer 10 space probe, back in gravity again. What a day.

At least they gave her a little computer-interface to work with, so she isn't completely mute.

"Hello?" She's used to patience, but... this is a whole other ballgame, "Anybody want to explain why I'm in here? I'm not built for this. Literally."

Such is life.


IV. Hot Crewmates in Your Area
Alright, well. I'm Pioneer 10, call me Ten. I'm a space probe launched by NASA in the United States of America... on Earth. This is a lot to take in.

[She considers that statement for a moment. No, no that's fair. It's a lot. Statement stands.]

I guess I'm a leader? Somebody has to do it. I'm not really sure how to answer that one, it's not exactly relevant to how I operate.

[She has the feeling, somehow, that that answer is going to bite her in the ass. Perhaps literally, given the circumstances. God, is this what it's like to miss JUICE? She's missing Juice. That's novel, at least. Gross.

Wait, could JUICE possibly hear this? Only one way to find out:]

I would say my best feature is that I have good taste in sports franchises. Unlike some people.

III. Shipyard

[funnylittleclown]

"Oh, hello!"

The Doctor popped out of something that vaguely resembled a TIE fighter if those had six fanned wings instead of only the two and were painted a bright neon green. Whoever had built this type of ship wanted to be SEEN!

"Now you do look vaguely familiar. Could we possibly have met some where before?"

[pioneer10]

Her camera turns, very slowly, to look at him. There is a moment while she struggles with the focus, and then gives it up for a bad job. Fifteen thousand years in hard vacuum had done the hardware no favors, and it had not been intended for close-up photography even then. He's human, or at least humanoid, that's good enough for now.

"Almost definitely not," She tells him, drily.

That was, perhaps a bit abrupt. The voice is, of course, not coming from the space probe herself, but from the little communications device attached to it. Convenient, that, since while she definitely has limbs, her magnetoscope isn't exactly useful for manipulating mobile devices.

"Then again, I just agreed to join what's turned out to be some kind of inter-dimensional space race so, anything's possible, I guess. Where were you in 1970?"

[funnylittleclown]

"The first time or the second time?"

He spoke casually as he walked around her currently gravity laden form. There was some distinct similarities. The hexagonal axis, large antenna, and long arms loaded with all sorts of clever gadgets, yes!

"Why, you're from Earth originally, aren't you?"

[pioneer10]

"Born and launched," Ten tells him, still struggling distractedly with the camera, "I'm from NASA, at least originally. Pioneer deep space survey missions— I'm Pioneer 10. Call me Ten."

And then the breakthrough: she abruptly remembers— oh! The communicator's camera! Much better resolution, and it's meant for human-scale imagery too. She gets her first actual view of the Doctor then, in color no less. He looks... very human, indeed, as he circles 'round her little corner of the shipyard.

Ten is abruptly very aware of her vulnerability; she can't move, or do much of anything, can only barely watch. This could get hairy in a hurry; JUICE would laugh himself sick. She hopes.

"That was a long time ago."

[funnylittleclown]

"Indeed it would be, I suppose, depending on what time it is here."

There had been a little lack of information in the timeframe area. It had been more important to recruit privateers for this little space race or maybe SUPERBIA only existed in the one time and therefore saw no reason to make mention of it. It didn't matter a great deal at the moment as the Doctor pointed to a device on Ten's side.

"A Charged Particle Instrument! Does this still work? I wouldn't ask only... I had noticed you were having a spot of difficulty with your camera. A long time drifting around in space will do that."

[pioneer10]

"Eighteen thousand years, give or take a few decades," Who is this guy? He's dropping hints like he's from a science fiction story about a time traveler, "I'd say I look pretty good for my age."

Thoughtfully she concentrates a moment and, for the first time in eons, activates the CPI. It, maybe a little predictably, does not respond. Of course not. Why would anything be convenient.

"Sorry, no. I completed my mission thousands of years ago; I got a few requests to power up and have a look around, but mostly it's been shut down to conserve power. I've had other things to occupy myself with, though. Plenty of good views."

[funnylittleclown]

"You do! You look absolutely wonderful."

To him and to anyone with a keen since of the wonderful. Who would ever say otherwise?

"Deep space missions like yours did have the constant worry over power. It isn't still a problem for you, finding enough power I mean? You must have found some way to sustain yourself out there?"

[pioneer10]

"Oh you know how it is; total onboard capacity is pretty limited, but ultimately I'm not going to run out. And there's nothing but time, if I ever need any; you just shut down for a few months, build up charge, and then you wake up. It's not a big deal."

She thinks for a moment; it's honestly not that bright in here, but it's incredible, compared to what came before. She wonders if solar could get her anywhere... And yet, Ten can feel it in her thermocouple, in a way that it takes her a minute or two to really quantify: she isn't going to need a shut down anytime soon, not for a long time. When she crunches the numbers it goes out to the triple-digits and she stops the calculation before it can get into the minutes and hours. Did that mean the isotopes had been refreshed, or just replaced? Was she still being powered the same way at all?

No way to know. But just the same; an improvement.

"Huh. Looks like my batteries are pretty healthy, just now. I suppose I have our host to thank for that. Makes sense; it doesn't do its mission any good if I spend half my time in standby. It's strange to have such a sense of urgency all of a sudden."

III

[futuradelita]

[ Adela rose her head upon hearing something. She then turned upon hearing that 'she was not built for this.' ¿Qué chingados? Needing to move faster, she slung her HMG to her shoulder. This, she had to see. Adela walks, trying to find the source of the voice. ]

What do you mean 'not built for this', don't you mean your ship was built for this?

[ She would've asked if Spanish would've come easier for the voice in question, but oddly enough, her English accent was natural, hinting at being someone of higher social class. ]

[pioneer10]

"Listen, I know what I'm about, here," replies the voice, issuing clearly from the little mobile device bolted onto the surface of the shipyard-bound space probe, "Why would you even assume that? I could just be someone stuck under something, you know."

Some people have no common sense. But you'll have to excuse her surliness, she's having a trying day.

"Up here. No. No, over— look, I'm the 600 pound space probe with the big dish, alright? See me? Come on."

[futuradelita]

[ Adela turned her head further towards the voice, swearing it was closer. Maybe behind the probe? The person ensures her that she knew what was she asking. She looked past it, finding nothing, then getting confirmation that-- ]

¡Ah, cabrón!

[ She yells out in shock while stumbling back. It's the goddamn probe. She slowly steps forward. ]

You... are sapient? [ Adela holds her hat to look at the probe, then further up... ] How did you get here? We had to walk for hours before getting here.

[pioneer10]

"As sapient as you are. Turns out that over enough time, even something like me can become a person. Go figure."

Infinite time doesn't mean infinite everything, but it does give you some things that you'd otherwise never see. If Ten had had shoulders, she'd have shrugged them.

"I don't really know how I got here. I guess if you've got organic hardware you show up somewhere else? You'd have to ask SUPERBIA. But, they're not really answering my calls, at the moment... Maybe you'd have better luck."

[futuradelita]

[ Anything can become a person given enough time. The likelihood of a starship hovering alone in space was highly likely. And the chance of it having a long, long, long time to become sapient, was disturbing. ]

Pues... that makes sense. [ She stepped around the machine, trying to study it. It looked rudimentary, and that's even compared to the ships of her sector. It was an extremely utilitarian design, but one that did not expect any sort of combat.

It was a big, flying satellite. Something to say 'Hey, look! We're here!' ]

You don't... look like something we would make back home. And that's from a world where only the powerful get shining ships. [ She wipes whatever dust had accumulated over the Pioneer 10, and finds her reflection on its surface. ]

Who built you?

[pioneer10]

NASA. I was built in California, launched from Florida... Which makes me American, more or less.

What about you, where you from?

[futuradelita]

[ NASA... NASA... the name does not ring any bells. 'California' is only familiar as the small colony 'Nueva California'. Florida, ella apenas recognizes it as one of the small settlements that formed within one of the planets, as 'La Florida'

And why the hell would they send out a probe that primitive, and without even an Alcubierre Drive? She decides to answer in more general terms. It's the answer that's cleared the most things so far. ]

I'm from Puerto Nuevo Vallarta, a rural world still being terraformed within the Aztán Sector, whose capital is around the Tonatiuh star... Compared to everyone, I'm from the Camelopardalis constellation.

[ She then tilts her head to look at the probe. ]

No me suena nada about those locations, and.. you're too old to be from my world. You don't even have an Alcubierre Drive. I'd like to know which world are you--

[ She pauses when she notices a plaque screwed someplace in its parts. Adela kneels, leaves her hat down by her side... Her eyes widen.

There is the engraving of a human man and a human woman, and the representation of a star system. ]

[pioneer10]

I'm trying to figure a frame of reference, here. But for the record, I have to ask.

Where do you think Camelopardis constellation originates from? The name, not the stars.

[This kid is weird, even by the standards of the day, which is a pretty fucking weird day, come to mention it. Location-names based on constellations? Hell, constellations weren't even real, they were just visual illusions formed by stars aligning from one perspective.]

You mean, what planet? Earth.

IV

[kid_devil_you_dont_know]

[Hopefully, Pioneer 10 has the patience to deal with a nerd who is... kinda maybe freaking out a little at the idea of talking to her? Eddie Bloomberg replies via the social media app that her answers were posted to:]

I'm trying to figure out what to say, but... You're Pioneer 10 and you're talking to us and that is so, so, so cool. Where and when I'm from, before SUPERBIA brought me here... it's been more than six months since Earth received a signal from you. And I'm TALKING to you.

[Eddie's a little... ahem, starstruck.]

[pioneer10]

[Eddie has no idea.]

Oh wow, six months. I remember back then— not that there's much to remember. I'm way off in the future from then, though— But don't worry, this lady ages like fine wine.

[He's adorable. She wants to put him in context.]

Hey, what's the date for you?

[kid_devil_you_dont_know]

I have no doubt that's true. Were you sentient when launched, or was that something that developed later? (Tell me to buzz off if it's rude to ask.)

I'm from 2002. The 14th of November is when I agreed to join the search and got teleported here.

[pioneer10]

Oh, are you kidding? My onboard processor can take barely 6.14 kilobytes before it needed a defrag and a lie-down, in 2002 I could just about manage to draw power and execute commands, and that's it. But it turns out that if you leave even a simple computer running in total isolation for 15,000 years, it eventually turns into a... Well, a person.

[November 2002... Ah, the Raiders and the Buccaneers. Old school football. A Classic match-up of old vs new, defense vs offense... Everybody likes a nice, tidy dichotomy. And not just humans, really. There's something very comforting in that common ground.]

That was a good year for Football.

[This is not, technically speaking, relevant.]

[kid_devil_you_dont_know]

It was probably a silly question, but you could be from a parallel Earth where technology developed differently. So I had to ask. Stranger things have happened.

You've survived out in space for 15000 years? Hot damn, TRW built you to be tough. You said you remember back to when I'm from. Is there a difference, when you're recalling memories from before you... turned into a person? [He could use more precise terms, yammer about sentience and singularity theory, but Eddie opts to use Ten's own words for the process. Feels more polite, in his mind.]

Baseball is more my game. The Oakland A's had an INCREDIBLE season this year. But the Raiders did pick up a win after a really rough month, so maybe they're turning it around too.

[pioneer10]

Closer to 18,000 these days. But it's been thousands of years since I "woke up" so don't worry about it. The specific date isn't really important.

Well, humans had been beaming a lot of information out into space the entire time I was cruising along, and I absorbed a lot of that sort of passively— call that residual memory, and accessing it is slower, but it also takes less power. Once I was aware of myself, the first thing I did was a radical reformat, so while I don't have infinite space, it's not like I'll run out room anytime soon. I've got about... Maybe ten exobytes onboard, now, and I'm approximating here. We can do some pretty cool science with quantum communications these days too, so I've got access to the earth's information superstructures. Internet, telecommunications, you name it.

[There is a brief pause. Hm.]

Well, I used to have access. Now I've got this. I am definitely going to have to respect you less for being a baseball fan, though. But if you ask real nice, I might tell you how the Superbowl turns out, in 2003.

[kid_devil_you_dont_know]

[That... is a huge amount of data. It's so much data that "huge" doesn't even begin to encompass its size. Heavy emphasis on radical for that radical reformat. Eddie gives a little shake of his head and refocuses on typing a response to Ten.]

So you're like... a keeper of all our knowledge (and if you've seen the Internet, plenty of our human ridiculousness) wandering through space and seeing all kind of things we'll never get to see. That is amazing.

[The message after the pause makes him laugh out loud when he reads it, and he's smiling as he types back:]

Ha! Well, you wouldn't be the first one to rag on me for preferring a "slow and boring" game. (I'd settle for knowing if the Raiders beat the Patriots in the November 17th game, since that's only a little bit in the future from where I'm standing. But I really doubt I've earned it yet. You can tell me later, after we've worked together for a while.)

[pioneer10]

Kid, you are vastly overestimating how much anybody wants to download the minutae of human life into their long-term memory. Like, I love you all, I really truly do love you weird little guys, but literally nobody cares about ninety-nine percent of what you do in a given year. Not even a space probe shooting through the infinite interstellar void for thousands of years, has time or space to care.

But I do have football stats so. Y'know. Priorities.

[Give her a minute, onboard memory is slow... and, yep. Got it.]

Raiders v Patriots, November 17th of 2002. Raiders take it 27-20, most commentators cited a fumble from Tom Brady for the lynchpin moment. You gotta give it to Oakland, they crushed it. Look at the coverage— oh.

Sorry I guess you can't see this. I usually just talk football with the other probes, and we're always in each other's channels.

But hey, that's good news for you, as a citizen of Raider Nation.