SHIP'S LOG:

The Sadie Hawkins

Starry Skye 10/21/2020 11:51pm

"Fashion?"

"Yes," the captain said.

Cat Tracer, the second most amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpocket in the Tarantula Nebula, wasn't interested in fashion.

"Cat Tracer is a master of disguise. She wouldn't--"

"Remember micro-fashions?"

"Uh... no?"

"Back in this time, in the Uranographia Fields, fashion trends lasted a day at most. There was a hat in the crowd that didn't come out for another two days."

It wasn't much. There wasn't anything else to go on. But I was having trouble hiding my despondence.

"So?"

"So, who makes these fashions? I mean, they must be made ahead of time, so people can buy them in stores. Who plans them out? Who decides? And are they connected to this?

"So?"

"So we're heading to the fashion district. I'm going in."

Armando Lupiz 9/9/2020 11:52pm

"Ok, give me a breakdown on 11-G to 42-J, enhanced, half speed."

@Starry Skye says we won't be able to find anything in the spy-eye footage. I'm beginning to think she's right.

"Try it from the reverse angle. Apply Lope-learning algorithms."

Just a bunch of lactose-resistant Milk Bar snoots drinking at the Rainbow Zone.

"Alright show me the perimeters. Gallery paranormic."

The thief is long gone by now, but we need something to go on. Anything. History changed before our eyes, and now we're in uncharted territory. Before, it all seemed like a quaint rerun, but now, seeing the denizens of Uranographia Fields going about their daily business has never been more terrifying. Like the whole world creating itself anew, in the most banal ways, and it's all our fault.

"There captain. That bus boy."

"What about him?"

"Enhance B-15 to full."

A navy blue pill box hat with a big feather in it fills the screen.

"Nice hat."

"That's just it, captain. It's too nice. The micro-fashion craze was in vogue at this time, where new styles were being introduced and replaced almost hourly. That particular hat -- the Ponce de Leon -- wouldn't make the scene for another two days from now."

"An anachronism?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I'm glad to see all that time you spend with those fashion magazines hasn't been wasted. Let's see what @Starry Skye knows about hats."

Captain Armando Lupiz
(The Sky Wolf)
onboard the continuous merchant dirigible Sadie Hawkins

Billy Nails 7/31/2020 8:33pm

See what did I tell ya, kid? We travel back in time, start messing around, and before you know it we've started a whole new timeline. One we probably shouldn't even exist in! At least not "us" us. The "us" us has already left Uranographia Fields. Our ship has sailed -- without Starry Skye onboard. And what about poor Sparkleshine? That sweet old plasma moth was stolen from right under our noses. Or her egg, or cicada, or whatever you call it. What happens now when it hatches and @Starry Skye's not there to be her mama? Or what if it never hatches? And in the meantime, how is Sparkleshine anyway? Does she even exist? That toothless hag said she had to stay with her back in the Purple Dimension while we went ahead. Not that she would have been much help--a big ol' fire breathing plasma moth like Sparkleshine would attract nothing but the wrong kind of attention at the Uranographia Fields. But what I want to know is if our Sparkleshine even still exists, now that her egg's been stolen. It's enough to make an old airshipman's mind just melt. And his heart. I just hope our @Starry Skye can track her down and steal her back.

Starry Skye 6/22/2020 10:44pm

The spy-eyes were set up so we could see everything, hovering at various distances and angles (at least as far as the Rainbow Zone's basic security allowed for, which wasn't a problem).

So why oh why did we not see her coming? And why did it work out differently this time??!!!

Everything seemed perfect. I mean, my memory wasn't *that* exact, I suppose, but it sure looked right in the spy-eye view screens. @Billy Nails and the kid roughing it up in their dusters, knocking into my table, spilling the milk. (And what is it about milk that makes people so excited? Sure, it comes in different colors, but still?).

I see the kid drop the package in the chair.

"Turn around..." I say to myself. To me, myself, that is. Not the myself on the screen.

I don't remember pausing this long. Something else catching my attention--a purple feathered sentient boa around someone's neck rears and spits--for just a split second. I don't remember that.

But it's just enough time for her to snatch it from my chair. Even in disguise, I'd recognize her silky moves anywhere.

Cat Tracer. The second most amazing zero-G cat burglar and pickpocket in the Tarantula Nebula. Holding the package tied up with string and in very clear handwriting in black pen: THE SADIE HAWKINS, and slipping it into the folds of her cloak.

And disappearing into the crowd.

Armando Lupiz 5/10/2020 9:20pm

And it comes down to the moment.

@Billy Nails and the kid take up their places at the Rainbow Zone. They were chosen because they came closest to @Starry Skye's description of the "star tramps," and she's dressed them appropriately. Chillingly, the clothes where exactly what the Sadie Hawkins had on hand. She's also been working on choreographing their fight.

The skies are even more purple and green than usual, here at SN1987A in the Tarantula Nebula. Maybe I'm just more nostalgic, or never took the time to really enjoy it, or maybe it's just the time of day.

"Hey, Cap'n! It's showtime."

Guess I better start paying attention.

Captain Armando Lupiz
(The Sky Wolf)
onboard the continuous merchant dirigible Sadie Hawkins

Billy Nails 4/2/2020 10:23pm

Nobody likes a shivery old ninny poop, kid. Least of all ol’@Billy Nails. But I just couldn’t let my trepidations keep to themselves with this tinkerin in time business! Of course the captain did tell us what he was doing, and gave us all a chance to jump ship before we went through the gate. But you know how these things are, a buncha grown airship crew members, all gung ho and oorah oorah, ready for adventure, and whatever might come their way. But I just gotta confide in somebody, kid, and when you start visiting your own tracks in time somethin's bound to go sideways, I tell 'ya. It's been creepy enough, sneakin' round Uranographia, seein' all the news from two years ago, just knowin' there's another us out there, gettin' ready for some well-deserved shore leave. Ain't these people ever heard of the butterfly effect? It's a complex enough system as it is without runnin' haywire inside of it, I'll tell you.

Starry Skye 2/25/2020 9:38pm

The captain tracked Hettie and I down near the circular falls of Entmoor. We'd been through the hoop a number of times, and were both thoroughly doused and tired. The Sadie Hawkins was a sight for sore eyes, really.

It wasn't till after I got Hettie bedded down in the cargo hold that the captain told me his plans. And showed me the little box. And the map drawn out by the old toothless hag. It had drool stains.

"Deeeeleeever eeet. Deeeeleeeever Hetteeeeeeee."

Yes the old toothless hag was there too.

We're headed for a gate, or a place in this dimension where the fabric of reality can be bent. Where the old toothless hag can bend it and deliver us to the Tarantula Nebula. To the Uranographia Fields.

And in our case, the Uranographia Fields of almost two years ago.

The old toothless hag says we've got Hettie's original chrysalis, and it's up to us to make sure it gets delivered to The Sadie Hawkins.

The Sadie Hawkins of almost two years ago.

Seems simple enough. I've done it once already, haven't I?

Armando Lupiz 1/21/2020 10:08pm

The Toothless Old Hag has invited me to her tent. It's a bunch of fabric and poles sticking out behind a floating boulder. It seems to be on our way everywhere we go.

"Mrrrrrawhgh! Mrrrwawawrawa?"

More of her wretched earthy tea. Ugh.

"Garwwwuemawawawaru. Bwawwawamargu."

She's certainly been a lot more calm since we've been marooned in this dimension. Quite happy here, actually.

"Mwanheny dataykee daflaflaiverfuffy. Verfuffy!"

She presents me a small box. It's familiar, but probably in the way all small gift boxes are.

"Guhooney. Malarfafarfarafa!"

I open the box, and there, buried in cotton...

"Deeeeleeever eeeeeet! U! Deeeeeeeleeeeever!!!

A chrysalis. A plasma moth chrysalis.

"U deeeeeeleeeeever Hetteeeeeeee."


Captain Armando Lupiz
(The Sky Wolf)
onboard the continuous merchant dirigible Sadie Hawkins

billy nails 12/16/2019 10:11pm

This is the life, ain't it, kid? I'll admit ol' @Billy Nails enjoyed the notion of the C in the C.O.D. mail run, but not when it turned out to be some kind of trap! There wasn't a better moment for that toothless hag to hijack the Sadie Hawkins into this peaceful, purple dimension. Can't quite say I've ever seen gravity work this way, what with the floating islands, inverse rainbows, and the like. Waterfalls seem to fall forever, and the starlight is bright enough to read by. And I'll admit that this old airshipman's eyes teared up watching Sparkleshine meet its kin folk. I've never seen a swarm of giant plasma moths frolic and play in the thermals before, and let me tell you you may not see a sight more tender for quite some time! And the strange folk who inhabit this land are so generous, loading the ship with food and fine goods every time we make a mail stop. These folk value their communications, and it seems their options for delivery are slim in these parts, relying instead on a thin network of clotheslines strung from floating island to floating rock, through which they operate a simple pulley system to take a bucketful of mail one at a time across the chasms. Why haven't these people mastered flight? Makes ol' @Billy Nails want to stop and think for a bit...

Starry Skye 10/30/2019 8:01pm

I've never seen Hettie so frisky and alive. Her swoops, her dives... I've never seen the chitin of her wings so strong and healthy, and the hairy scales that make up her coat are extra bouncy and resilient. Especially when I scratch her behind her antennae.

There's no doubt it's the... dimension that the old toothless hag has brought us to. She gave up the bridge as soon as she brought us here, and hasn't shown any more interest in directing our course. The Captain has no real idea where we are. So we keep safe distance from the fantastic outcroppings of landscape and slowly explore.

Hettie flits busily between the waterfalls, rainbows, and twisted knots of floating stone and trees, picking up and dropping off the envelopes with the great curly silver writing on them by the bucketful. And we make our rounds without needing to Pweeet the purple plasma bursts. No need to rip through the skein of space to deliver the mail: we're already here.