where is the human. come out human. where is the human hiding.
Never let it be said that Skylar Wheeler could not form an empathetic connection with most inanimate objects. Before the accident, it was with toys, often neglecting to clean his room lest it 'disturb the city they made'. After the accident, practically anything made of metals or space-grade plastic overwhelmed him and nearly burnt out his sense of empathy entirely with their constant demands and speeches. It took an android with a screwdriver to force him to start learning how to filter through their requests, what was natter and what needed attention immediately. Even then, he still couldn't help but try to listen to everything, help as many parts as he could be satisfied and feel like they were where they belonged.
"Bathroom! For fuck's sake, just give me a minute!"
That didn't mean they never tested his patience. Cameras especially were the worst, he'd decided over the years. They begged for attention and didn't care to be ignored or even set aside, not until they were ready to be set aside. And maybe it was his imagination, but they also seemed like terrible gossips. If he'd known how many cameras were on board, he might've given the captain a polite 'thank you' and an even nicer 'leave'. He had no idea if the cameras were even functional (he hoped if so, they couldn't pick up his voice. It was rather tiring to explain to people, no, he wasn't responding to thin air. Just because they couldn't hear it didn't mean it wasn't real), or if the captain was aware of them, but by every god he knew, they were just emotionally exhausting to deal with.
He finished brushing his teeth under dim red lighting. (Even if they didn’t mean to, the ship’s lights hurt - too bright. When the ship had stopped last time, one of the shops sold red tape. He had happily given up the last of his credits for it and used it up immediately covering every light source in his room - the one haven where he didn't require his goggles to function.)
(He could also try asking the captain if he might be able to dim the lights, but really? After all his "introductions"? He'd be lucky if the captain didn't just throw him into the vacuum of space.)
Once he was satisfied with his teeth, he gave his hair a few quick swipes with a comb and left the bathroom to the camera’s fanfare. He gave it an acknowledging nod in return, lest it pitch a fit, and tugged on the hem of his shirt. Okay, basic necessities done. What to do next? Well, he did need to speak with the captain about potential modifications to the ship - insulating some fraying wires, maybe double-insulating wiring on the main deck. Reinforcing some of the walls. Rehauling the atmospheric system. The ship clearly hadn't been designed with such a motley group of people in mind, and it was already telling him.
On the other hand, he did have Beam, and that wouldn’t require a conversation with anyone but the little robot. He sat down at his makeshift workdesk, prepared to complete Beam's re-insulation. Beam, for its part, uncoiled and stretched across the workspace while he gathered his tools. Deactivating the robot did nothing to silence it, but that was fine. Beam was rarely anything but encouraging anyways. He opened the plating and set to work.
--- .--
Skylar looked up from his silicon liner in confusion. That was the ship's framework. He hadn't felt any particularly violent motion.
"Can anyone tell me what just happened?" he asked the room in general. The camera buzzed giddily as Skylar rubbed at his head. It probably had an answer but right now it was speaking too quickly for Skylar to catch much. What he did catch-
ging along-
he's wa-
rock in the ship-
-he didn't put much stock into. The loudspeaker's hum was unchanging on the other hand, and all he could get from the wiring was that something had gotten 'too close too close too close'. Great. Framework?
- .... . .-- .- .-.. .-.. ... - .... . -.-- .----. .-. . .. -. - .... . .-- .- .-.. .-.. ...
Well. That told him a lot. He groaned, hand ceasing to rub in favor of covering the upper half of his face. It might be easiest to just blame the smallest crew member and just try to play hot-and-cold with the framework to find and fix the damage. Whatever it was, it hadn't been a hull breach so it wasn't urgent, nor had it severed any important connections. It could wait for him to finish his work here. He resumed, trying to tune out the camera's now-incessant gossip and the framework's complaints.
It was fine. Focus on the work at hand. Everything was fine. He just had to get the re-insulation done. Just focus on Beam, who spoke with a hiss like a weak steam burst from a leaky pipe. See, one foot down, two to go. This was fine. Fine, fine, fine. Was ‘fine’ even a word anymore? Whatever, as long as he kept focused on the work and not the multiple voices around him, each demanding their share of his time. See? Another foot done. Beam wanted to know how much longer, which, fair enough. But time spent answering would distract from the work at hand and so he continued. So deep in the work he was, that if Beam had not shouted, he would’ve missed the loudspeaker’s - rather, the captain’s - message entirely.
"-your asses to the Mission Deck in ten, gotta brief everyone before we touch down."
Ten. Ten minutes, yes? Ok, that was enough time to finish the job, but he’d either need to work quickly or run quickly. Well, he’d be a crap engineer frankly if he chose the former. Unless the ship was in danger, methodical work was always better than a patch job. He settled back down.
Snowy burst onto the mission deck, gasping for breath. Crap engineer, no. Crap athlete, yes. He staggered over to the nearest wall to lean against it, giving the group as a whole an acknowledging nod and the captain a bit of a half-assed salute. Around his shoulders, the metallic snake almost appeared to slumber peacefully while the robotic songbird hopped off the snake and onto Snowy’s shoulder proper to perch.
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