Atrophy

Carvings of the Galaxy

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Owen Childs

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“Replaced. Right,” said Owen, hanging his head as if he had just taken a profound interest in the slice of cake that had seemingly been snuck in below him.

Andrew hadn’t mentioned anything about being replaced—he had yelled something like ‘See you in the future!’ the last time the two had chatted. It was always a possibility that he never mentioned to avoid some uncomfortable conversation, or maybe something dire came up before they all took the pill. It was possible, but it didn’t seem very likely to Owen. He glanced around the room with narrowed eyes; the old geezer was nowhere to be found. Wisely, he had made himself a ghost a few years before nature went ahead and did it for him. Owen was about to raise his suspicions—was nobody else concerned that an unknown had been added to their little future force—when Benji pulled back the veil with the punch of a button and a nervous, stammered statement.

“Holy crap.”

Owen stared out at the abyss of space. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been such a shock. A sudden wave of exhaustion rushed over him and he lowered himself into the chair that he had been ignoring, propping his forehead up with a hand as he continued to glare, mouth agape, out the window. They had been in space for over a hundred years? Owen took what little trivia he knew about space travel and started crunching numbers. He came to the conclusion that they were all really, very, extremely far from home—the results of watching too much sci-fi and not enough documentaries. He rubbed his temple, frustrated that the brains behind Cryonautics would hide something like this from them. Owen knew for sure that he never would had let himself be talked into this deathtrap otherwise.

Probably why they decided to omit that fact, he thought, nodding in consent as Yaz probed Benji for more answers. Owen, deep down, was glad that Benji had awaken them. He’d rather know his fate and have some say in it than defrost one morning to find themselves on an alien planet with the skeleton of their doctor. He just wished that Doc had done it sooner. Two years was a long time to be alone. Too long, really. He reexamined Benji through sprawled fingers, noticed his twitches, his darting eyes. Sure, he was always a little weird, a little shifty, like a mouse that had been give caffeine pills, but this was different. Owen cursed himself for not noticing how fragile the man appeared earlier. Yet, there was a hint of accusation in Owen’s stare. Benji was smart; he should’ve known not to isolate himself for so long. What’s the deal?

"So, we still have a decision to make. We could always set course back to Earth or stay on the path already set for us, for the mystery planet. But as I can see, it probably be best if we wait to make any sort of decision, to have everyone here. Let's do that after everyone gets settled in. I understand if any of you are still shaken up by that type of awakening."

“Not the worst morning I’ve ever had, but it’s definitely in my bottom three,” said Owen, sticking a fork into the cake and taking a bite out of it. It wasn’t so bad as long as he avoided the icing, which tasted like sugary tar and diabetes.“But yeah, seems like we got a pretty big decision to make once everybody’s cleared their thoughts. A few of them, actually.”

He stood up to dump the sweet shell of his cake in the compactor, taking a moment to brush any crumbs on his plate, when Echo’s words of them only having three years of food left rang through his head. Owen, grumbling like a child forced to finish their peas, quickly wolfed down the rest of his breakfast and cleaned the dish. Washing his hands, Owen’s mind turned to the missing old man; something about him was awfully familiar—emphasis on the awful. He wished he had given him a more discerning look earlier, but could he really be blamed for not wanting to be caught eyeing a nearly naked bag of bones? Still, he had questions for the old man the next time he showed his face. Owen just prayed this wouldn’t turn into his own (decrepit) white whale that’d alienate him from the group as being “that guy” who took to pushing around the elderly.

Yet before anything else, he needed someone to hear his concerns. He needed to talk with Tahlia. Yaz and Echo would have certainly be more pleasant people to chat with, and Owen felt that they could help in their own, likely more upbeat way, but in his eyes Tahlia was the most grounded of the crew. Truth be told, she was probably even more observant than him. She’d either confirm his suspicions or tell him to shove off, which he would assume to mean that he was just overreacting and should reevaluate his worries. Either way, he was certain she’d set him straight, or at the very least he wanted to be certain. There was a part of him felt that it could just lead to an argument, although there was always some fun in that. Regardless, with one last look out into space he turned and left the kitchen with hopes of catching Tahlia alone.

Of course, he didn’t even consider talking with Benji. The Doc was one of the highest things on Owen's growing list of concerns.

Carvings of the Galaxy

So, waiting for AssHat to post our co-op. How far are all y'all?

@Deserted

I've got a collab in the works with that same AssHat, and I have a solo post leading up to that collab that I should probably tighten up and go ahead and drop pretty soon. You know, unless we wanna turn this into Memento or something.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@The Darklight ProjectI just wanna be adored.

_{It's certainly not a desperate cry for help}

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@Sol Grim

It rhymes with nurple

@PetiteAmbivert

Green apple?

Currently looking for assistance in creating a Destiny RP.

Would the RP only get really good a year later?

_{Sorry, I'll show myself out. ((And try the Interest Check forums to get a few more bites))}

Carvings of the Galaxy

@Deserted Alright, gives them something to talk about!

@TheMadAsshatter

All the best conversations start with "Where's your pants?'

Carvings of the Galaxy

@Eru Iluvatar Yay, we're all dead, RP's over, GG.

@TheMadAsshatter

Sure, it may have been short. Sure, it may have been abrupt. But goddammit, we can leave here with our heads held high for actually being able to finish a RP. Good job, folks. We did the impossible.

One Rainy Night in Chicago

@PolyphemusWell, boss, unlike your power, I'm still down.

_{That physically hurt to write. Glad you're back.}

Carvings of the Galaxy

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Owen Childs

---

The whoosh of the cryo-tank’s door and the sudden freezing chill cutting through Owen’s body forced his eyes open like the snapping of fingers to a hypnotized subject. A yawn involuntarily escaped from Owen’s mouth, and he could hear several pops and cracks as he shifted his weight around. Unsteadily, his shaking hands grabbed at the edge of the cylinder and peeled his body away from the tank. He haphazardly took a step forward and, not noticing the warning sign, felt his stomach drop as his foot plummeted beyond where the floor was supposed to be. Owen managed to catch his balance just in time, and his first step into the brave new world was therefore, while poorly executed and embarrassingly awkward, a technical success.

Owen rubbed his smooth head, still quite uncertain of what was going on or where he was. He felt like he had been dreaming; as he looked around and found himself surrounded by four others while wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs he decided that perhaps he was, in fact, still dreaming. Only in this dream he wasn’t late for an exam and the rest of the people in it weren’t the faceless horde of student but a few equally bewildered individuals dressed in nothing more than their skivvies. Three of the others in the room were young, attractive, and somewhat familiar women; the fourth was an older man with pruned skin and a gnarly beard.

Yeah. You’re wide awake, buddy.

Memories of taking the pill, the tests, Project Renascence, Cryonautics, the call from his buddy, and hundreds of other little details flooded into his mind. Relieved that he hadn’t learned something horrifying about his own desires, Owen looked back around the room. First, the women: Echo, Yaz, Ms. Sourpuss. He knew them, and they all seemed fine except for Yaz who was missing her arm. Or rather, she had always been missing her arm for as long as Owen had known her (which wasn’t very long, to be fair); now she was just missing her bionic arm as well. Owen glared at the other man, studying his face. It was recognizable but, much like hearing the melody to a song in his head without the actual lyrics, he couldn’t put a name to it. There was the absurd possibility that the old man was Andrew or Benji and that something had gone wrong with their pod and they had been let out years, decades earlier. Owen quickly threw that idea out; he had seen the man emerge from one of the tanks. Perhaps he had been frozen later, except that also made no sense considering the entire nature of the project.

All of this was thrusted to the side when Owen caught the gaze of one of the others and, as if he had just snacked from the tree of knowledge, realized he had been glaring at a bunch of half-naked people like some kind of peeping tom. Suddenly uncomfortable and only partially because he was freezing, he shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. He could muse all day about cryo-tanks, old men, and finding out what the heck ever happened to the other two males let alone the rest of humanity once he had some clothes on. Basic needs once again trumped everything else; Maslow would be proud.

“You’d think they would’ve setup curtains. Bit of a design oversight,” he said with a faint smile as he rubbed his chin, mindful of where he rested his eyes. Six cryo-tanks, five people, nothing much else. Finally, they settled on a doorway. He nodded towards it. “I’m gonna see if I can find some clothes.”

The walk down the short, metallic corridor was more of a task than Owen had imagined it to be. Each step arduous, shuffling, and painful like walking barefoot through foot-deep snow. There were a few doors lining the bright, sterile hallway, but only one was open. Through the doorway Owen could make out a table with what looked like a birthday cake on it, with a sink and countertops hugging the wall beyond it—the kitchen, he guessed. He took a step into the room and—

"Surprise! It’s me, B-Benji!"

“Criminy, Doc. Don’t do that!” shouted Owen with surprise.

He lowered his raised hands, glad for once that his reflexes were never the quickest. He could feel a few of the others walk into the room after him. Owen shifted uncomfortable as Benji wrapped a blanket around him, although he was admittedly grateful for the added warmth. While he was relieved to see Benji was okay, a wave of unease set upon him: What happened to Andrew? It wouldn’t be much longer before Owen pieced at least part of it together, but for now he was still focused on what was directly before him. And as he watched the Doc flitter about while chatting rapidly about God knows what his earlier prognosis of the man being “okay” began to shift. Yet, clothes were the priority; he followed Benji.

It was getting easier to walk by this point and it wasn’t before long that they were in dormitory with six rooms. Owen’s room was the middle one on the right. It was tiny with little more than a bed, a desk, a nightstand, and a closet; it reminded him a lot of a college dorm room. A suit, black and crisp, was hanging in the tiny closet, with a pair of argyle socks and his leather shoes sitting next to the bed. He wasted no time getting dressed before hurrying back to the kitchen. He was certain the others would convene once they got themselves together, judging by his own grumbling stomach. He looked at the cake and frowned. Hopefully Benji knew how to get them real food. When Benji and some of the others made their way back, Owen stepped to one end of the table and leaned against it. Adjusting his glasses, he settled his gaze on Benji. Something that man said had been bothering him.

“Doc, you said you turned off the tanks? Does that mean somebody let you out, or…” Owen trailed off, folded his arms, and decided to change his question. “More importantly, have you seen Andrew?”

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@The Darklight ProjectIt's Persona only everybody is an idol and beats monsters with the power of music. Also, dudes from Fire Emblem are your weapons.

It's kinda amazing?