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<blockquote data-quote="Morrus" data-source="post: 6251521" data-attributes="member: 1"><p>Here's an example. I just whipped this up in 5 minutes, so it's not perfect, but it gives a sense of those 300-500 word slices of life I mean.</p><p></p><p>"Anything today, Doc?" Libbie Hamilton looked up at the young technician's question - the same question he'd asked her every one of the 212 days they'd been stationed on this lonely outpost. She shook her head wearily.</p><p>"Nope, nothing today, Reggie. Maybe tomorrow."</p><p>Reggie grinned, and handed her a cup of steaming coffee. Glancing up at the dark sky, he gestured through the window towards the pinprick of light that was the sun, over three billion miles away, almost indistinguishable from the thousands of other stars clearly visible from Pluto's surface.</p><p>"Hard to believe that's the sun, isn't it?", he asked. "This is the furthest I've been from it. Never left the solar system, y'know."</p><p>"Well, if you're lucky, maybe you'll get stationed on Proxima Centauri next. I hear they're actually building a hotel there." </p><p>The great dish of the listening post's radio telescope blocked half the sky, vastly larger than the small, metallic building which housed the research team. Regulations strictly prohibited them from venturing outside unless the equipment needed maintenance or repairs, but most people stationed there eventually donned an environmental suit and slipped out for a look around. </p><p>The faint, monotonous tone of the Signal could be heard from the computer bank in the corner of the room. The Signal. The same signal that had been broadcasting for over half a century, originating from the depths of space and time, at the very limits of the observable universe. In all that time, it hadn't changed, it hadn't varied, and it hadn't stopped. </p><p>"Next shipment from Ganymede is due in four days. I asked them for hot chocolate; I can't take any more of this Navy-issue coffee. It tastes like mud." </p><p>Libbie grinned. "It is mud. It's organically fabricated in those new hydroponic facilities." </p><p>Reggie chuckled. "My shift's over. Arian should be out soon to replace me. Roger and Shiera have a card game going in the dorm. I think I'll..."</p><p>He froze. His face went white. Libbie looked at him, startled.</p><p>"What's up, Reg? It's just a card game. Nothing to..." </p><p>She followed his gaze. The computer in the corner. The Signal.</p><p>The Signal had just changed.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Morrus, post: 6251521, member: 1"] Here's an example. I just whipped this up in 5 minutes, so it's not perfect, but it gives a sense of those 300-500 word slices of life I mean. "Anything today, Doc?" Libbie Hamilton looked up at the young technician's question - the same question he'd asked her every one of the 212 days they'd been stationed on this lonely outpost. She shook her head wearily. "Nope, nothing today, Reggie. Maybe tomorrow." Reggie grinned, and handed her a cup of steaming coffee. Glancing up at the dark sky, he gestured through the window towards the pinprick of light that was the sun, over three billion miles away, almost indistinguishable from the thousands of other stars clearly visible from Pluto's surface. "Hard to believe that's the sun, isn't it?", he asked. "This is the furthest I've been from it. Never left the solar system, y'know." "Well, if you're lucky, maybe you'll get stationed on Proxima Centauri next. I hear they're actually building a hotel there." The great dish of the listening post's radio telescope blocked half the sky, vastly larger than the small, metallic building which housed the research team. Regulations strictly prohibited them from venturing outside unless the equipment needed maintenance or repairs, but most people stationed there eventually donned an environmental suit and slipped out for a look around. The faint, monotonous tone of the Signal could be heard from the computer bank in the corner of the room. The Signal. The same signal that had been broadcasting for over half a century, originating from the depths of space and time, at the very limits of the observable universe. In all that time, it hadn't changed, it hadn't varied, and it hadn't stopped. "Next shipment from Ganymede is due in four days. I asked them for hot chocolate; I can't take any more of this Navy-issue coffee. It tastes like mud." Libbie grinned. "It is mud. It's organically fabricated in those new hydroponic facilities." Reggie chuckled. "My shift's over. Arian should be out soon to replace me. Roger and Shiera have a card game going in the dorm. I think I'll..." He froze. His face went white. Libbie looked at him, startled. "What's up, Reg? It's just a card game. Nothing to..." She followed his gaze. The computer in the corner. The Signal. The Signal had just changed. [/QUOTE]
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