oom: Cabin Fever
Dec. 11th, 2016 11:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i_ship_itDodger wasn’t sure how long she’d been skulking around Milliways, but it had been starting to feel like far too long. Everything’s just so different, and different was weird. Different was uncomfortable and unpredictable. Different was dangerous. Everyone was so nice and pleasant, and always had food or supplies or advice to offer, and nobody ever seemed to expect anything back in return.
Once upon a time, things had kind of been like that. Once upon a time, you could peek over the fence around your back yard at the neighbours having a barbecue, and expect to be given something off the grill for the simple exchange of continuing to be a pleasant person to live next to. You could send your kids outside to play, or wander to the store when a late-night craving for some Chunky Monkey struck. Now, there were no neighbours. There weren’t any stores or Chunkey Monkey, and nobody dared go outside after dusk. Dodger couldn’t even remember the last time she saw a child. Part of her – a part that had been locked down and buried, long forgotten – knew that things used to be good, and things could still be good somewhere else. But all she could see was deception and foul play. Bandits were dangerous, but at least bandits let their intentions be known. When you crossed paths with another scavenger, it was the done thing to put as much distance between them and you as possible to minimise your risk and maximise your gains. When all you found was an old can of Fancy Feast and a few Twinkies in the back of a cupboard, it went farther with one person than it did split between two.
But that was also a saving grace, because even bandits couldn’t afford to travel in large bands. Not when there was so little left. Stealing whatever you could find still only meant you could steal enough food to feed one person.
Milliways was different. People eyed Dodger (well, her bat, really) with wariness, and tended to keep a respectable distance, but nobody ever tried to get too close. Dodger was the one people were afraid of, and that was different as well. She held no illusions of being queen of the mountain. She had her own neighbourhood she tended to keep to, and she knew it well, but she still preferrerd to run and hide more often than not.
When she found Milliways, she thought she’d never want to leave. It was warm and dry, and people were practically throwing food at her. The more she explored the place, the bigger it became. But she still acted with caution. She didn’t want to take too much, because she knew she had nothing to offer. She hadn’t even seen money in what felt like years. Every now and then, she’d find a penny or a dime in the dirt, and every time, she’d left it there. It was no use to her. Dead weight that would pile up and slow her down if she picked up every single glint of copper she saw. There were rooms to rent as well, but Dodger didn’t take one. Not only did she not have the money, but something about taking a room felt too permanent – too constricting. She didn’t feel safe if she didn’t keep moving. But nobody seemed to care if she fell asleep on one of the sofas, or made a blanket fort under a table in the library. Everything about Milliways had a faint whiff of anarchy about it, but it wasn’t an anarchy Dodger was at all familiar with. People were left to do as they wanted, with the sole caveat that what they wanted couldn’t interfere with someone else.
So far, the only familiar thing at all had been the dolls. But creepy dolls were nothing. She ignored them, and assumed they ignored her back, and all was well. She hadn’t woken up to find one of the dolls trying to strangle her in her sleep, so they sat firmly at the low end of the danger spectrum.
It wasn’t just the weirdness that was getting to Dodger. Not just the uncomfortable veneer of civility that she knew people were wearing strictly out of politeness. It was the size of the place. There were a lot of places to visit and explore, and once upon a time, Dodger could have quite happily got lost in the library for days. But it was also suffocating. She could go outside and look at the sky, but even that felt false – as if whatever force or being had constructed this place had wanted to make the “outside” seem much bigger than it was. There was the forest, and the mountains beyond, and a lake, and gardens. But it was like being in a fish bowl. While everything felt physically real and present, Dodger couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all there just for the benefit of whoever happened to be there at the time. As if it would blip right out of existence the minute nobody was there to see it. Everything about Milliways felt that way. When Dodger wasn’t in the library, she sometimes wondered if it was even still there. She found herself peeking out the back door every now and then just to see if anything had changed. (At one point, a giant straw goat did appear, only to be burnt down. That was the only change she happened to see, and it didn’t feel like it counted.)
The longer Dodger stayed, and the longer she ignored the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage, the harder it was to admit to herself what she was feeling. It was hard to admit, because admitting it would mean giving up so much. She had regular showers, and clean clothes. She was eating so much junkfood, she constantly felt vaguely sick, and it was amazing. But she was also deep in the throes of cabin fever. As much as this place seemed hell-bent on giving her anything she wanted, it also had some unspoken sinister undertones. Dodger could get anything she wanted, but at the cost of never going back outside; of never standing on cracked pavement again, or feeling the California sun on her skin. She was safe from werewolves here (or so she’d been told), but at what cost?
She couldn’t stay here any longer. Dodger knew that, and eventually accepted it. It was nice being clean and well-fed, but she also felt herself getting lazy and complacent. And that was dangerous. She waited until the middle of the night, when the bar was as quiet as it got, to go up to the Bar. She didn’t expect to get anything when she asked, and was surprised when her request for some non-perishables and a few bottles of water was granted. It would only last her a few days, but it was a few days worth of a head start on finding somewhere else to bed down for a while. With her baseball bat ready to swing as soon as she stepped over the threshold, Dodger took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to face whatever was waiting for her on the other side.
Once upon a time, things had kind of been like that. Once upon a time, you could peek over the fence around your back yard at the neighbours having a barbecue, and expect to be given something off the grill for the simple exchange of continuing to be a pleasant person to live next to. You could send your kids outside to play, or wander to the store when a late-night craving for some Chunky Monkey struck. Now, there were no neighbours. There weren’t any stores or Chunkey Monkey, and nobody dared go outside after dusk. Dodger couldn’t even remember the last time she saw a child. Part of her – a part that had been locked down and buried, long forgotten – knew that things used to be good, and things could still be good somewhere else. But all she could see was deception and foul play. Bandits were dangerous, but at least bandits let their intentions be known. When you crossed paths with another scavenger, it was the done thing to put as much distance between them and you as possible to minimise your risk and maximise your gains. When all you found was an old can of Fancy Feast and a few Twinkies in the back of a cupboard, it went farther with one person than it did split between two.
But that was also a saving grace, because even bandits couldn’t afford to travel in large bands. Not when there was so little left. Stealing whatever you could find still only meant you could steal enough food to feed one person.
Milliways was different. People eyed Dodger (well, her bat, really) with wariness, and tended to keep a respectable distance, but nobody ever tried to get too close. Dodger was the one people were afraid of, and that was different as well. She held no illusions of being queen of the mountain. She had her own neighbourhood she tended to keep to, and she knew it well, but she still preferrerd to run and hide more often than not.
When she found Milliways, she thought she’d never want to leave. It was warm and dry, and people were practically throwing food at her. The more she explored the place, the bigger it became. But she still acted with caution. She didn’t want to take too much, because she knew she had nothing to offer. She hadn’t even seen money in what felt like years. Every now and then, she’d find a penny or a dime in the dirt, and every time, she’d left it there. It was no use to her. Dead weight that would pile up and slow her down if she picked up every single glint of copper she saw. There were rooms to rent as well, but Dodger didn’t take one. Not only did she not have the money, but something about taking a room felt too permanent – too constricting. She didn’t feel safe if she didn’t keep moving. But nobody seemed to care if she fell asleep on one of the sofas, or made a blanket fort under a table in the library. Everything about Milliways had a faint whiff of anarchy about it, but it wasn’t an anarchy Dodger was at all familiar with. People were left to do as they wanted, with the sole caveat that what they wanted couldn’t interfere with someone else.
So far, the only familiar thing at all had been the dolls. But creepy dolls were nothing. She ignored them, and assumed they ignored her back, and all was well. She hadn’t woken up to find one of the dolls trying to strangle her in her sleep, so they sat firmly at the low end of the danger spectrum.
It wasn’t just the weirdness that was getting to Dodger. Not just the uncomfortable veneer of civility that she knew people were wearing strictly out of politeness. It was the size of the place. There were a lot of places to visit and explore, and once upon a time, Dodger could have quite happily got lost in the library for days. But it was also suffocating. She could go outside and look at the sky, but even that felt false – as if whatever force or being had constructed this place had wanted to make the “outside” seem much bigger than it was. There was the forest, and the mountains beyond, and a lake, and gardens. But it was like being in a fish bowl. While everything felt physically real and present, Dodger couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all there just for the benefit of whoever happened to be there at the time. As if it would blip right out of existence the minute nobody was there to see it. Everything about Milliways felt that way. When Dodger wasn’t in the library, she sometimes wondered if it was even still there. She found herself peeking out the back door every now and then just to see if anything had changed. (At one point, a giant straw goat did appear, only to be burnt down. That was the only change she happened to see, and it didn’t feel like it counted.)
The longer Dodger stayed, and the longer she ignored the feeling of being trapped in a gilded cage, the harder it was to admit to herself what she was feeling. It was hard to admit, because admitting it would mean giving up so much. She had regular showers, and clean clothes. She was eating so much junkfood, she constantly felt vaguely sick, and it was amazing. But she was also deep in the throes of cabin fever. As much as this place seemed hell-bent on giving her anything she wanted, it also had some unspoken sinister undertones. Dodger could get anything she wanted, but at the cost of never going back outside; of never standing on cracked pavement again, or feeling the California sun on her skin. She was safe from werewolves here (or so she’d been told), but at what cost?
She couldn’t stay here any longer. Dodger knew that, and eventually accepted it. It was nice being clean and well-fed, but she also felt herself getting lazy and complacent. And that was dangerous. She waited until the middle of the night, when the bar was as quiet as it got, to go up to the Bar. She didn’t expect to get anything when she asked, and was surprised when her request for some non-perishables and a few bottles of water was granted. It would only last her a few days, but it was a few days worth of a head start on finding somewhere else to bed down for a while. With her baseball bat ready to swing as soon as she stepped over the threshold, Dodger took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to face whatever was waiting for her on the other side.
