Post by Lt. Commander Cobus Rok on Jan 24, 2019 18:47:27 GMT -8
The phone rang.
A second ago, Cobus had been in engineering trying to stop the core from overloading, so this struck him as unusual, almost as unusual as this bedroom. Instinctively, he slapped his hand against the place on his chest where his combadge should have been. It wasn’t there, and his eyes travelled down his body, taking in his wardrobe change. The phone was still ringing.
Cobus had seen old style phones before: in old holovids, on the holodeck, and he’d even had a history professor at the Academy who’d kept a real one in his office, but he’d never actually touched one. Lifting the phone, Cobus held it up to his ear, imitating the way he’d seen it done on those holovids, uncertain what he expected to hear.
“Hello?” Cobus listened to the voice on the other end. What they were saying made sense, yet it didn’t. He paced across the room, annoyed when he discovered he was tethered to the phone and the cord had just swept half a dozen things off the desk and onto the floor.
“A parade? They want me to ride on a what? I’m the President, not a dancing monkey,” he rolled his eyes, holding the phone away from his face for a moment while he considered the offer. “Fine. Set it up. But if my approval rating doesn’t blow up after this, you’re the one who’s going to be riding the animatronic dinosaur,” he said with finality as he hung up the phone.
Cobus blinked, like he wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened, and walked over to the window to stare down at the theme park below him. This view was terrible. He was used to something a little more grandiose, a little higher. Presidents didn’t belong on the first floor; they should be among the stars. That was the view he was used to.
His eyes rose to look at his reflection in the glass, wondering what hope there was for an alien President in this xenophobic world, and he couldn't help feeling like it was somehow his fault.
Tag Crewman Vrehu Coardi , @grace
A second ago, Cobus had been in engineering trying to stop the core from overloading, so this struck him as unusual, almost as unusual as this bedroom. Instinctively, he slapped his hand against the place on his chest where his combadge should have been. It wasn’t there, and his eyes travelled down his body, taking in his wardrobe change. The phone was still ringing.
Cobus had seen old style phones before: in old holovids, on the holodeck, and he’d even had a history professor at the Academy who’d kept a real one in his office, but he’d never actually touched one. Lifting the phone, Cobus held it up to his ear, imitating the way he’d seen it done on those holovids, uncertain what he expected to hear.
“Hello?” Cobus listened to the voice on the other end. What they were saying made sense, yet it didn’t. He paced across the room, annoyed when he discovered he was tethered to the phone and the cord had just swept half a dozen things off the desk and onto the floor.
“A parade? They want me to ride on a what? I’m the President, not a dancing monkey,” he rolled his eyes, holding the phone away from his face for a moment while he considered the offer. “Fine. Set it up. But if my approval rating doesn’t blow up after this, you’re the one who’s going to be riding the animatronic dinosaur,” he said with finality as he hung up the phone.
Cobus blinked, like he wasn’t entirely certain what had just happened, and walked over to the window to stare down at the theme park below him. This view was terrible. He was used to something a little more grandiose, a little higher. Presidents didn’t belong on the first floor; they should be among the stars. That was the view he was used to.
His eyes rose to look at his reflection in the glass, wondering what hope there was for an alien President in this xenophobic world, and he couldn't help feeling like it was somehow his fault.
Tag Crewman Vrehu Coardi , @grace