Ricki Tarr (
rickitikitarr) wrote in
reverienet2018-06-08 07:12 pm
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voice: un: thomas
Being here reminds me a little of the time I spent working in Kowloon. The walled city is an old Song military outpost in Hong Kong, that everyone poured into some centuries ago. Instead of sprawling out the town went dense, some thousands of refugees pouring their way in and cramping in tight up against one another. I was there in '63, well after the fires and before the police started bothering the cathouses and opium dens.
[Ricki's voice is low, and close to the communicator. The hour is late, and he sounds tired, like he's sitting alone with a drink. His accent is fuzzy, too, British-Australian via Penang, Singapore, others. Indistinct, impossible to place, and cultivated over the years into something level and hypnotic.]
There were thirty thousand people in less than three hundred buildings, piled so tall and crisscrossed with laundry and walkways so thick that sunlight seldom reached the lower levels. You stepped from single cobblestone to cobblestone or else splashed through shallow puddles by the light of the few flourescent bulbs that had been wired in to light the lower market stalls.
[There's pause, and then a quick breath, like he's shaking himself out of it. He doesn't quite chuckle, but you can hear that it's a near thing.]
I'd take that over this if I could. We're just as flourescent and barely lit, but the food was better. My Cantonese is shit, I can order tea and apologize sincerely, but I still think I understood more there than I do here. Better bars, too.
[Ricki's voice is low, and close to the communicator. The hour is late, and he sounds tired, like he's sitting alone with a drink. His accent is fuzzy, too, British-Australian via Penang, Singapore, others. Indistinct, impossible to place, and cultivated over the years into something level and hypnotic.]
There were thirty thousand people in less than three hundred buildings, piled so tall and crisscrossed with laundry and walkways so thick that sunlight seldom reached the lower levels. You stepped from single cobblestone to cobblestone or else splashed through shallow puddles by the light of the few flourescent bulbs that had been wired in to light the lower market stalls.
[There's pause, and then a quick breath, like he's shaking himself out of it. He doesn't quite chuckle, but you can hear that it's a near thing.]
I'd take that over this if I could. We're just as flourescent and barely lit, but the food was better. My Cantonese is shit, I can order tea and apologize sincerely, but I still think I understood more there than I do here. Better bars, too.
un: rocipilot , but not Amos using his comm this time
Well most of the Belt. Our air filters still seem to be working, so there's that, at least.
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okay seriously he will give the entire story of the expanse so lemme know if you want him to stop...
lmao no it's cool
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un: garion
[ A slight pause before- ]
Why did they do that, if you don't mind me asking? Why build up and pack so tight instead of spreading out?
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un: gunny
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un: mori
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voice
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un: niijima.m
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voice; un: topCHOIce
Though hey, are you a novelist or something? You kind of sound like one with how you were describing everything.
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voice; un: aphrodite
[ her voice is soft, and fairly low - a high tenor, maybe, just on the verge of androgyny. but it's with a kind tone that she says her words, and asks: ]
If we get the food machines fixed, how much of the problem would that be?
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un; hudie
Sometimes I wonder what the value of reminiscing is. Not whether it has any value, obviously it does, but what we can do to turn it into productive action. How to offset feeling bad about what you don't have anymore.
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cw discussion of substance abuse