abidinglaw | [voice] it had been strange, even in a dream

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[voice] it had been strange, even in a dream

[While over the past few days the draft has been threatening the lives of cast-mates and strangers and acquaintances alike Admiral Norrington has been fighting a battle of his own. He chose the evening of the fourth to investigate the purpose of that odd little bump on his wall. Flick.

At once he murmured a quick curse to himself and spun around. All alone in his apartment he stepped back and drew his sword. There was no-one at the door, of course, no army of pranksters could have simultaneously lit up each and every one of the candles on all the tables and counters in the room. The light was coming from above. He narrowed his eyes at the brilliant bulb and tentatively flicked the light-switch back with the tip of his blade. Darkness. Light. Darkness. Light.

It was quite enough excitement for one evening.

On the morning of the fifth he tried all of the lights in his apartment, and then a few on the landing outside. Buoyed by his success, he then investigated the electrical devices in his residence and the kitchen beyond - strange boxes with nobs and things which he had ignored up until now. Unlike the light these made horrendous droning noises, or else they glowed in unearthly shades of red and gave off uncanny amounts of heat. He aborted his efforts for fear of them.

Today he sits at a table in the kitchen and opens his journal.]

Might I request that someone explain by what force the light above my head is being generated? And, since I hardly believe that mine are the only quarters to be granted them, what on earth is the function of all of these peculiar boxes?

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[To a man who believes that suspending meat in barrels of salty water is high-tech this idea seems somehow more miraculous than a food-making machine would be.]

How much longer?

[And to an admiral of the British navy the potential for such a device is incredible. If food were to last so much as a week beyond its expected spoiling date it could save the lives of countless men aboard ship. An entire fleet could travel that much further with fewer stops. This box could revolutionize the navy overnight.]

Depends on the food. Meat stays fresh a lot longer, some fruits, some vegetables. Mayonnaise, too. And milk. [Man, Norrington, this is going to rock your world. IMAGINE AN EXISTENCE WITHOUT SALT PORK or whatever the non-Little House equivalent is.] And if you just want something chilled--say you made aspic--then it's good for that, too.

[But don't make aspic (https://secure.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/wiki/Aspic), Norrington. Use this technology for good, not what the 1950s thought was good.]

[But, but, but, meat just doesn't taste the same without a healthy three or four layers of rock salt.]

Do you know who designed this machine? Do they live here in Luceti?

[Kay can't really judge in matters of culinary taste--again, savoury gelatin (http://retrorecipe.wordpress.com/2008/09/25/jellied-bouillon-with-frankfurters-one-of-many-traumatic-dishes-made-possible-by-jellateen/)--but surely being able to taste the meat flavour would be an improvement.]

...I don't. And I kind of doubt he's here, whoever invented it. You want to ask him something in specific?

I warrant that the crown would pay a fat bounty for exclusive access to these boxes. Poorly kept supplies are the bane of any voyage by sea.

Oh, to be the fellow who invented the icebox. [That might be a smirk.] There might be books on how they work at the library, but I've never had much interest in appliance repair. Afraid I can't help you there.

Ah. So the bulb of light is a light-bulb, the box of ice an ice-box. Is this a convention common to future nomenclature? Have you sleep-tables and sea-carriages besides?

Edited 2011-06-11 00:44 (UTC)

If we do, no one's told me about them. [There's something of a smile in her voice; welcome to the future, sir.] We've got beds and boats, but I imagine you do, too.

I'm Kay, by the way. Kay Eaton.

[Thank goodness. There is yet hope.]

Admiral James Norrington, a pleasure.

Pleased to meet you, too, Admiral. Indulge my curiosity--what year was it when you left home?

Seventeen hundred and twenty. That was - or is - the present year.

Present year was nineteen fifty-three where I was from. So we're, what, two hundred thirty years off from each other? [Explains a few things, that.] Seems like you're adapting well--it's gotta be a lot to take in.

It is not the things that confound me so much as it is the people. I wonder what future event could have led to the widespread demise of common decency? Of respect?

Edited 2011-06-11 01:45 (UTC)

[What exactly he means by that, Kay's not sure--and she's genuinely uncertain whether she wants to find out.] Depends on how you define decency and respect, I guess.

Nonsense - unless you would equally define a summer's day as a market swine.

Maybe I've just run into the right people--some of the kids might dress a little skimpy, but everyone's been nice enough. [She's hoping that's what you mean, Norrington, she's really hoping.]

I am a man of the sea - I have traveled the world over and seen things that few men would believe. I have done this in the company of some of the very worst kinds of people and yet they would blush to walk in Luceti's square on a Saturday afternoon.

Really? [Kay was under the impression that sailors were used to extreme debauchery in various forms.] Is it really just the--the clothing, or?

[Well no, in truth he's censoring himself for the sake of present company. He doesn't expect that they would blush so much as give in to their more carnal urges - one way or another.]

I'm sorry, I don't believe I follow.

[Aww, Norrington, you don't have to worry about scandalizing Kay. Her tone is even, but there's something slightly steely behind it, like she's preparing herself to hear something she doesn't want to.]

The way people dress--is that what you're getting at that's so shocking, or is it something else? I'm not sure I follow, is all.

The word of an admiral commands no attention here whether it be spoken at a bar or among the King's men. [He sighs] A King's men. Furthermore the apparel of a gentleman is laughed at when it should rightly be saluted.

There is more, but I shall withhold the details. I would gain no solace by speaking them.

[So hey, Norrington's complaints--the ones he'll voice, anyway--aren't anything Kay'll get het up about. That's good.]

Fair enough; I guess that'd be a bother. I haven't had too much trouble myself--but I'm not a King's man.

And yet there are social conventions which you would baulk at the transgressing of. You have come accustomed to living your life a certain way as everyone has. It is merely, I expect, that this place and its people are close enough to your expectations and that they differ too much from mine by extension.

Sure, there are. [Pause. Kay's voice takes a cooler cast, a slight but undeniable distance.] On the other hand, there're social conventions I'm not worried about seeing 'transgressed,' however well they're regarded where I'm from. It's as much a matter of adaptability as anything to do with how I live my life, Admiral. [Which...well, no, her feelings on the matter of social transgression have everything to do with how she lives in New York, but not in ways she cares to mention to new acquaintances. So instead you get a half-truth and some quiet indignation, Norrington.]

A commendable trait to be sure.

[He doesn't sound convinced. Then again, maybe it's his dissatisfaction talking. How is it that every person he tries to talk to in this place ends up upset somehow or another?]

But adaptation takes time -- even for the best of us.

[voice] it had been strange, even in a dream

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