SHEETCAKE PARTY #1

[goneawaymod]

SHEET CAKE MEETUP

“Who the fuck is Linda?”

The question pops up every few minutes, a little tack of punctuation above the offensively-inoffensive music being piped in*. The room the hires have been ushered into is clearly just a conference room, with a layout that requires either sitting at awkwardly-spaced intervals around a giant table or milling and scooting around the smaller folding table, where the “big surprise” the corporate officers promised them is on display: a sheet cake.

A sheet cake that that still bears HAPPY BIRTH DAY LINDA in blue icing across the top, although someone has, at least, gone to the effort of writing welcome, to the team new hires in Sharpie on a purple flashcard and used a Popsicle stick and tape to plant it like a dismal flag right in the middle of Linda’s “DAY”. Dedication aside, the cake itself looks pretty suspect too, not as if it were poisoned but more like if it were salvaged. The cake part looks dry, and the frosting seems strangely...sweaty. No one’s eating yet, and yet there’s already a piece missing.

However, there’s no lack of enthusiasm around the room. A projector hooked up to a laptop casts an off-center, warped rectangle of WELCOME TO, THE BEST TEAM. NEW HIRES!! onto a wall. The many paper plates have a festive print, although they all seem to be Christmas themed. The table cloth looks as if it came from both 4th of July and potentially a war, given the scuffs and tears. The shot-glass sized paper cups are inadequate to hold a satisfying amount of sparkling cider, but at least they don’t leak. There are many more plastic knives than forks, which could prompt some hires to give in to their animal instincts and just use their hands, or perhaps start a barter economy for the better utensils.

“I’m so jealous,” a corporate employee keeps saying as she ushers hires into the room. “We haven’t had a good party in this office since Kelly’s baby shower, and that little girl practically has teeth now!”

(An eagle-eyed hire may suspect that the box of donuts next to the sheet cake might have come from said baby shower, on account of the fact that the few stale hunks of donut remaining have Pepto-Bismol pink strawberry icing and that there’s still the paper envelope for a gift card with ITS A GIRL written on it.)

Most of corporate slips out after the hires get set up - this is clearly an event for the hires to do some “team building” and work on “rapport” in addition to filling their bellies with cake that tastes remarkably like sand. There’s a karaoke machine in the corner, but hires are instructed not to touch it because, as an employee points out, last year’s Christmas party demonstrated that karaoke is the worst thing in the entire world for morale (“in any world! even before this one got eaten away by the bombs!”).

There’s an additional big glass jar filled with scraps of paper, which the hires are informed are filled with prompts for ice breakers and activities in case the party needs a pick-me-up. Any hire who investigates will find that most of the ice breaker activities start with three benign questions (“what’s your name?” “where are you from?” “what’s your favorite animal?”) and somehow, always a fourth question that feels a little invasive (“what are your feelings on unions?” “under what circumstances would you kill an innocent person?” “do you use the same passwords for all your accounts?”).

“Please enjoy yourselves and all the desserts Jorgmund has generously supplied you with,” one of the employees says on her way out, “and don’t worry about making a mess, janitorial gets paid too much to sit around as is.”

*All music that can be summarized as ’grocerycore’.

Comments

[credit_not_blame]

Okay, that explains how a being without a mouth communicates. It's a bit like packlink, though not quite the same. She cocks her head to the side as she 'listens', narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.

"Well, that's cool," she says. "Nice to meet you, Alloran. Can you hear how many questions I have rattling around in my head right now, or is it only one way?"

She glances up at the movement of the eyes on stalks (also cool) and obligingly spreads her fingers. The color on her nails is chipped, but they're pink with the exception of her ring nails, which are silver.

[takenalive]

<I can't, and that's a mercy,> he says dryly. Esplin never got around to acquiring a Leeran. <I am pleased to be able to speak to you.>

Is he pleased? Disconnected, really. It's hard to feel grounded and present in his body, when it hasn't really been his for so long.

<Do you want me to morph? I can be a human female not far out of the appropriate age for that sort of game, if you like. It would be disturbing to watch but not dangerous.>

[credit_not_blame]

Stacia laughs at that. Well, he(?) isn't wrong there! She has a lot of questions, ranging from reasonably polite small talk to the certainly inevitable 'so, what are you?'

And his next question only multiplies hers. She blinks at him, tilting her head the other way.

"Morph -- you mean you can shapeshift? Huh! That's-- well, that's also pretty cool, but you don't have to if you don't want to. I'm not super-invested in the game, except as a way to start talking to people. Everyone seems a little...out of it."

Him(?) included.

[takenalive]

<It's something like that.> He has the option of explaining or not-explaining as much of it as he wants, and that is... dizzying. It's a lot of work, having choices and being able to make decisions. He's out of practice.

<Watching does upset most people, and it takes some effort. I suppose it would mean being able to eat this... offering.> There's a definite sense of hesitation and distaste. If he actually goes into human morph this might look more appealing. As is the cake resembles sediment settled to dry, or perhaps hardened foam. A small child's cloud art efforts, kept and decaying for a year or so.

Thinking of that he unthinkingly broadcasts a faint image on short-range. A leggy, striped Andalite child with a long bladeless tail romps and plays in puffs of floating cloud foam that vaguely resemble piped frosting. It's accompanied by a swell of old, weathered love and care and less old uncertainty and regret.

[credit_not_blame]

"Most people aren't used to seeing other people transform from one thing to another," Stacia agrees. "I'm not sure it would be worth the effort to eat the cake though, unless you're actually hungry. Life's too short for cake this gross unless you need the calories."

She probably does need the calories if Jorgmund is going to expect her to do anything strenuous. But the cake looks supremely unappetizing.

Her eyes go wide when she receives not just an image of what is clearly a small child of Alloran's species (so he's probably not some kind of spirit made manifest) but also some feelings that go along with it. Her jaw drops slightly and she automatically tries to read Alloran's expression.

"Is that your child?"

[takenalive]

They might not let him graze here. They might not have the facilities for grazing, but they probably do have some kind of vegetable pulp. He's going to have to find someone and explain the kinds of things he can eat, because feeding in morph can only be a supplement. That sounds tiring already.

Alloran's surprised himself when Stacia reacts, and his eyestalks stand straight on his head for a moment. Most of his facial expressions are in the main eyes, the position of the stalk eyes, the exact way the ears are held, though they're not as mobile as the deer ears they slightly resemble.

<Ah. My apologies, I didn't mean to send that.> He's going to have to be careful about that. Having his djafid under a Yeerk's control has evidently had some effect. <Yes. That was my daughter.>

[credit_not_blame]

Okay, that's what surprise looks like on...whatever Alloran's species is. It looks like that might be 'surprise', at least. Embarrassment? Both?

"No need to apologize," Stacia says, waving a hand. "She looked very happy."

Careful, careful wording here. Alloran used past tense, which is never a good sign when someone's talking about their child. Possibly the daughter is just older now, not dead, but it's undoubtedly a sensitive topic.

It's bad enough being here and separated from her friends and parents. She can only imagine that being separated from a child would be worse.

[takenalive]

There was a little bit of extra blinking, which as in humans is a sign of embarrassment, but not much.

<Some of it is just the way memory distorts over time. I haven't seen my wife or children in decades, and none of us are the same people we were. But it has helped to remember them as fondly as possible.> He sounds more or less matter-of-fact, though there is of course a heaviness to it, some of that weathered love and distance.

<If this too lasts decades, you may find your memories of home changing. Perhaps. These things work differently with different species.>

[credit_not_blame]

Wow, Alloran is old enough to haven't seen his(?) wife and kids in a period of time that could be measured in decades. That puts him(?) at 'possible grandparent' age.

Stacia blanches a little at the thought that her time with Jorgmund could last decades too.

"I'm pretty sure it works the same way with humans," she says. "I've seen studies to that effect; how memories can be tricked even if you're doing your best to recall everything exactly. But hey, maybe we won't have to find out."

[takenalive]

Alloran's somewhere past seventy-five, but with how his species ages that's something like his late forties. It's possible for him to have had grandchildren, but they would be quite young. Without comparing him to a younger Andalite it's hard to determine signs of age - there are some lines around those huge and vaguely goatlike eyes, and he has a generally weary cast, but that's about it.

He's grimly amused as Stacia considers being a pawn for the long term. She's lucky. No one's in her head providing commentary on the prospect.

<If we are fortunate,> he says, very neutral. <I imagine you're hoping to change your situation? At the moment only you can hear me, so my speech is private enough, but I understand vocal speech is different.>

Despite himself he laughs suddenly, a sensation like a static pop of manic joy; it comes with a shifting of his forehooves on the floor, as if he's had an impulse to rear up. <I choose who hears my voice, and what I say! How wonderful.>

[credit_not_blame]

Stacia's noticed that Alloran's main set of eyes are not entirely unlike those of a goat, if only because she's spent a lot of time with one particular goat spirit over the past few years. It makes her a little homesick.

She blinks in surprise when he laughs and does his little dance, stepping back in case he does rear up. Those hooves would be dangerous at head height, though to be fair, the tail is definitely more dangerous at all heights.

"Yeah, that's great," she agrees. It's...a bit of an odd thing for someone to say. Makes her wonder what's going on back where Alloran's from. "Is that a...new situation for you? In which case, congratulations, the alternative sounds horrible."

[takenalive]

They're bigger than human eyes and have a suggestion of that prey aspect, though they're not wide set. That's what the stalk eyes are for, presumably.

<It's been a while,> he says, the shock of delight dimming back. <Let's leave it at, this is not the first time I've been forcibly recruited, and far, far from the worst. This is a better cause, if there was any truth to that babble. What do you think? Did they ruin their world?>

[credit_not_blame]

She'll leave it at that for now, but her curiosity isn't going to let 'worse than internal shock collars' lie forever. Stacia snorts in answer to his question.

"I mean, you've met humans, right?" It's a rhetorical question, he obviously has if he knows enough about humans to recognize girlish party games. "Everything they told us about the Go-Away War sounds absolutely like something that would happen back home if someone developed those bombs."

Pentex, probably. Seemed like their speed.

[takenalive]

<They have used nuclear power against each other, but my impression was they find it horrifying and have little desire to continue to do so.> Alloran considers, then gives a version of a shrug that doesn't seem to involve his narrow shoulders moving, just inverting one of his complex hoof-nailed hands for a moment. <There's always someone, I suppose.>

Humans and Andalites certainly have some elements in common. There are plenty of someones in the Andalite military, and he's been one of them.

[credit_not_blame]

"Oh sure, it's absolutely horrifying," Stacia says. "But that didn't stop the United States and the USSR from spending years building up stockpiles of enough nuclear weaponry to destroy the world multiple times over, and any number of other countries trying to develop that technology themselves." She shakes her head. "Everybody wants a cool weapon, and once you've got a cool weapon, well, you might just find a place to use it."