Boyd had been hesitant to step into the holodeck, and not for a lack of curiosity. Maybe it was superstitious wariness or maybe it was the very practical fear of getting sucked into the illusion, which, given the kind of reality he'd been living for the past three years, could easily become an enticing prospect. Boyd wasn't an escapist by nature, but in this case, he preferred to steer clear of temptation.
When he saw Cuthbert Allgood heading inside, though, he decided to follow. The boy had caught Boyd's attention from fairly early on, his jovial nature coming into contrast with the difficult-to-ignore facial decoration. His fondness for drink and the clouds of smoke he often produced seemed to tie in with that second part of him. There was a story there, and not a happy one.
When Boyd stepped into the dream machine, into the town square, he was grateful that the sun had almost completely disappeared under the horizon. Even the thin slice of light left had him transfixed, standing motionless for a long moment.
The hills, the fresh air, the thinly-veiled xenophobia -- it wasn't Harlan, of course, but as he walked toward the one-eyed owner of this illusion, it felt achingly close to home.
"Thanks for the warning," he said once he'd neared Cuthbert, his smile wry and almost modestly small compared to the grin the kid had shot him. "Frankly, it's nice to see cows at all, illusionary as they may be. The last cow I encountered had two heads and, perhaps as a result of such a dual nature, was somewhat poor-tempered."
no subject
When he saw Cuthbert Allgood heading inside, though, he decided to follow. The boy had caught Boyd's attention from fairly early on, his jovial nature coming into contrast with the difficult-to-ignore facial decoration. His fondness for drink and the clouds of smoke he often produced seemed to tie in with that second part of him. There was a story there, and not a happy one.
When Boyd stepped into the dream machine, into the town square, he was grateful that the sun had almost completely disappeared under the horizon. Even the thin slice of light left had him transfixed, standing motionless for a long moment.
The hills, the fresh air, the thinly-veiled xenophobia -- it wasn't Harlan, of course, but as he walked toward the one-eyed owner of this illusion, it felt achingly close to home.
"Thanks for the warning," he said once he'd neared Cuthbert, his smile wry and almost modestly small compared to the grin the kid had shot him. "Frankly, it's nice to see cows at all, illusionary as they may be. The last cow I encountered had two heads and, perhaps as a result of such a dual nature, was somewhat poor-tempered."