Sure Got Kafkaesque in Here

[googledox]

[It comes on Saturday's comm, during a lull in the fighting, when the liquidators have all been stopped. It's text but the text-to-voice options means people can hear the message on the go, especially since people can have their comms float along with them as they move.]

[It's difficult for him to hit the buttons without messing words up. He opts to keep his sentences short and simple. Thank goodness for auto-capitalize and auto-spell]

Using Saturday's comm. She found me outside.

Brainiac 5. I'm alive.

Fell in Stuff. Was dying.

Alive but changed. Bad. Typing is difficult.

No thumbs.

(no subject)

[walkingballpit]

[ The hovering comm shows a tight feed of Robbie with a laminated card in his hand, reading it to himself. After a moment, he must find what he’s looking for because he lets it drop, swinging wildly on the chain that used to anchor it to someone’s desk. With the same hand, he picks up a wall-mounted handset and cradles it between his ear and shoulder. He pounds a few buttons on the keypad and turns to face the comm.

He’s evidently met with some of the liquidators, as there’s a bloody bandage on his arm. Robbie points upward just as the Rig’s PA system kicks into life throughout the entire Rig. He doesn’t want Jorgmund to think anyone else was responsible for this. ]

Is this on? Cool, it’s a crackly POS like everything Jorgmund touches.

Sorry to interrupt everyone’s storming of the Bastille, and I’ma let you get right back to it, but I need to find someone and this is the fastest way.

Kerrigan. Paging Kerrigan. Kerrigan, your presence has been requested by Saturday, so please check your comm. Find us if you’re agreeable.

If you’re a Jorgmund employee and your name is Kerrigan, no one cares. This isn’t for you.

Everyone else, you may now return to storming the Bastille. Tell them we don’t want their damn cake.

[ He ends the feed. The PA is SLAMMED down a moment later, apologies to anyone with sensitive ears. ]