Posted Nov. 19, 2019, 9:07 p.m. by Lieutenant Celina Rodriguez (Chief Tactical Officer) (Kate O'Neill)
“Okay so from what I can tell and what we have downloaded from Graven XII this,” Celina punched a few more buttons into the holodeck terminal, “is what an average city looks like. I programmed the holodeck to scan our bodies as we enter and produce the correct clothes based on our professions. Well as close as we can assume it is based on our Gravenille denizens data. Ready,” Celina said happily. As the doors swung open and Celina stepped through four words slipped from her lips like a curse mixed with a whine. “Are you freakin’ serious,” she almost yelped staring at Jack.
Marching over to him she tripped several times and eventually reached out to grasp his arm to stop her from falling face-first onto the hardpan. The hem of her dress was designed so that a woman had to hold it up when she walked. Not plodding around like a two-year-old just learning to walk. “Jack,” she spat out as if this was all his fault. “Why am I dressed like some extra from Little House on the Prarie and you…you …you,” she was almost too stunned for verbal speech, “you look like one of the guys from Tombstone…but…good.” The comment did sound insulting but the fact of the matter was Jack and the few other men that had stepped through so far all had that dashing, debonaire wild west feel with a hint of modern spacefarer. Celina’s outfit was not pants but a long dress that most resembled a sundress. It had a floral pattern with a long slit up the side. On her feet where knee-high tan leather boots.
The surrounding landscape was reminiscent of a desert-like one would find in the American Southwest or Vulcan. Large rock formations lined the horizon with a few spotty trees plopped down every few acres. Off in the distance was a town that looked like it was put into a blender mixing high tech modern solar panels and sharp geometric lines pf its buildings with ancient combustion engine vehicles and the bustle of people moving about sidewalks that were not motorized. The vegetation one could see was lush and exotic but only in the concrete planters scattered along and in the sidewalks. If it wasn’t planted for its architectural design it didn’t exist. Most of the other people they could see were wearing variations of the clothes some people in their group had been digitized in. The men that were probably agricultural were wearing types of denim and plaid shirts. The women were all wearing either sundresses that to Celina reminded her of long nightgowns or heavy canvas pants with button-down shirts. Everyone seemed to be wearing boots of some kind or sandals that reminded Celina of flip flops only far more stylish. The air was hot and muggy making Celina ready to find an escape from it by entering the climate-controlled shops flanking the main street. Every once in awhile someone would catch a glimpse of a hologram selling a ware, modeling a look, or jumping out at you from an entertainment complex.
“This is Graven XII,” Jasmine let out a whistle. “It feels like an old-timey western that was half set up for a space adventure?”
Celina Rodriguez
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