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edge_of_forever2012-04-05 04:52 pm
optimisticnarcissistic) wrote in edge_of_forever2012-04-05 04:52 pm
Entry tags:
A Garden in the Works - [Open!]
After even just a day on this mysterious station, Julian was starting to miss having reliably flavored food. It wasn't that he wasn't used to malfunctioning replicators, bland Starfleet rations on the battlefront, or drinks that came out cold when they should be hot. No, just that sometimes, it could be nice to eat-- well, real food.
So, rather than sit about and fret about what could be going on back home-- or worse, whether anyone had even noticed that he was missing yet-- he has holed up in the science lab, and begun assembling a bizarre contraption out of pieces of a peculiar, grey, synthetic substance that is not quite wood and not quite metal.
The faint sound of hammering can be heard from outside the lab for the first hour or so of his rummaging, and then he makes busy with filling the impromptu garden box with freshly replicated soil-- or something distantly approximating it. The slimy refuse that his first eight or ten attempts created is best left forgotten, relegated to Lovecraftian nightmares and certainly not shared with his fellow kidnappees.
By the time his hands are thoroughly dirty from messing about with it, he has six or seven crops in mind, seeds of dubious origin in hand, and twelve different kinds of heat lamp arranged haphazardly on the floor near his project. They're not on yet, but once he's decided where to plant his crops-to-be, he'll calculate the angles necessary to provide maximum desired light to his little seedlings and arrange the lights accordingly.
Of course, Julian has never gardened a day in his life, so this might be folly. He doesn't let that deter him in the least, and is excited to gush about his project to any interested passers by. (And even the uninterested kind!)
So, rather than sit about and fret about what could be going on back home-- or worse, whether anyone had even noticed that he was missing yet-- he has holed up in the science lab, and begun assembling a bizarre contraption out of pieces of a peculiar, grey, synthetic substance that is not quite wood and not quite metal.
The faint sound of hammering can be heard from outside the lab for the first hour or so of his rummaging, and then he makes busy with filling the impromptu garden box with freshly replicated soil-- or something distantly approximating it. The slimy refuse that his first eight or ten attempts created is best left forgotten, relegated to Lovecraftian nightmares and certainly not shared with his fellow kidnappees.
By the time his hands are thoroughly dirty from messing about with it, he has six or seven crops in mind, seeds of dubious origin in hand, and twelve different kinds of heat lamp arranged haphazardly on the floor near his project. They're not on yet, but once he's decided where to plant his crops-to-be, he'll calculate the angles necessary to provide maximum desired light to his little seedlings and arrange the lights accordingly.
Of course, Julian has never gardened a day in his life, so this might be folly. He doesn't let that deter him in the least, and is excited to gush about his project to any interested passers by. (And even the uninterested kind!)