Mark Watney (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2017-10-19 06:07 pm
markwatney) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-10-19 06:07 pm
The birds have flown their summer skies to the south;
WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: 19 Oct 2017
OPEN TO:ALL Closed to new threads
I think most people have an unspoken list of things they intend to do when they have the time and inclination. Mine I usually actually write down, even in a place like this where paper and writing implements are scarce — Days with much downtime don't happen often, and my list is embarrassingly long. It helps to have a note so I can look everything over and figure out what's most pressing. I managed to get off of Mars this way, so I figure it's not a bad system.
Today, though, my choice was made for me. I woke up to two things: A box with my name on it, and a sky full of snow. Fortunately, all of the harvesting had been done on the less cold-hardy plants already, and unless this cold snap dragged on into something long-term, it would be good for what we picked later in the season. Sweetens the berries.
I've got plenty of ways I could fill a free day, but the snow and that mystery box left little question what needed to be top of the list: Taking a census before winter fully moved in. As far as I could tell, while various people in various places took notes about events and connections, we'd never had one central, definitive list of everyone in the community, where they were living and how long they'd been around. With a second village in the mix now, this information was more important than ever. A proper census would give us the tools to start to prepare for winter in earnest — Not just in predicting how much food and firewood would be needed, but what roads needed to be cleared, medical preparations and more.
The box I mentioned before, it helped with this. It was full of items that were a huge help in getting organized: Pencils, binders, blessed paper. And chalk. There was only one place to use that.
After carefully copying the information that had been collected on the blackboard at the Inn, I wash down both sides and jump right in: At the top of the outfacing side, I make three headings:
Name - Residence - Apx. Arrival
Beneath this, I start with my own info:
M. Watney - W. outskirts, blue - 1yr, 4 mo
"Why haven't we named the damn streets yet?" I mutter, and then began writing in what information I know on the rest of the villagers, leaving blank spaces for others to fill in next time they're at the Inn. But seriously, though, one more thing added to my to-do list: Street names and house numbers.
WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: 19 Oct 2017
OPEN TO:
I think most people have an unspoken list of things they intend to do when they have the time and inclination. Mine I usually actually write down, even in a place like this where paper and writing implements are scarce — Days with much downtime don't happen often, and my list is embarrassingly long. It helps to have a note so I can look everything over and figure out what's most pressing. I managed to get off of Mars this way, so I figure it's not a bad system.
Today, though, my choice was made for me. I woke up to two things: A box with my name on it, and a sky full of snow. Fortunately, all of the harvesting had been done on the less cold-hardy plants already, and unless this cold snap dragged on into something long-term, it would be good for what we picked later in the season. Sweetens the berries.
I've got plenty of ways I could fill a free day, but the snow and that mystery box left little question what needed to be top of the list: Taking a census before winter fully moved in. As far as I could tell, while various people in various places took notes about events and connections, we'd never had one central, definitive list of everyone in the community, where they were living and how long they'd been around. With a second village in the mix now, this information was more important than ever. A proper census would give us the tools to start to prepare for winter in earnest — Not just in predicting how much food and firewood would be needed, but what roads needed to be cleared, medical preparations and more.
The box I mentioned before, it helped with this. It was full of items that were a huge help in getting organized: Pencils, binders, blessed paper. And chalk. There was only one place to use that.
After carefully copying the information that had been collected on the blackboard at the Inn, I wash down both sides and jump right in: At the top of the outfacing side, I make three headings:
Beneath this, I start with my own info:
"Why haven't we named the damn streets yet?" I mutter, and then began writing in what information I know on the rest of the villagers, leaving blank spaces for others to fill in next time they're at the Inn. But seriously, though, one more thing added to my to-do list: Street names and house numbers.
no subject
She knew about the snow, having looked out her window, but Clary wasn't dressed for it. She was wearing yoga pants that stopped at her calves with a pair of black boots and a white fleece coat that she had liberated from the storage closet. She didn't think it'd be cold enough to wear pants yet and the coat was decently heavy.
"I gave them unofficial names." She turned towards Mark with a bit of a grin. She was heading out but it could wait. Clearly this was more important. "Want to see? I drew a map." She had a few, it's been her pet project since she first arrived since as an art student and a Shadowhunter... maps were all she could do to help.
no subject
"And sure," I add with a motion to the girl. "What've you got?"
no subject
She rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "From what I've heard, that might not work with a sun that doesn't set." Not that she'd been around for that but all the basic ways you'd tell time didn't feel reliable.
"Oh, yeah. One second." Clary turned and dug through her backpack. She had been drawing better maps of the village and the canyon as a whole. Where there were the moving forest was just scribbled over with the words 'Lord of the Rings Forest' scribbled inside of it. The picture that she had for he town was nicer and involved road names and house numbers that she'd randomly assigned to keep things straight in her head. After Erik informed her that there were no house numbers. Again, that was stupid. He'd probably notice some mistake in her numbering and as such there were also numbers with letters next to them. Clary didn't have an eraser.
"Here." She passed over the two pieces of paper, careful not to bend them or mess them up. She spent nearly a month to get it straight and she had to battle foxes to make the map of the other canyon.
[ooc: my weird references for the maps: here and here.]
no subject
"Most of these names are along the lines I was thinking of," I say with a glance back up to the girl. "I think innocuous choices like Main Street are probably going to be best. Less likely to have people arguing about what we call things."
I gesture with the papers. "You did a good job with these."
no subject
"You mean stereotypical?" She asked with a half smile. "I can't believe that no one bothered to name the roads. Even just using numbers like they did in New York." Clary wasn't very picky but having names helped.
"Thanks. I'm an artist. This is all I can do." She can fight but that didn't seem to be such a useful skill here.
no subject
"Would you mind making me a copy of this map?" I ask. "I've got one of my own, but yours has a lot more detail. I've got paper and pencils."
no subject
Clary paused, realizing that it made her sound weird that she had made three copies of a map that she then left in her room. "I needed something to do for a week so I ended up copying my maps." It still sounded strange but she wasn't going to tell a relative stranger that she'd gotten depressed after Isabelle disappeared and copying a map gave her something to do. It was the only reason that Clary's maps were as detailed as they were, she kept trying to find new things to add to them, insisting that they weren't done.
She had been trying to avoid the realization that she was alone here.
no subject
"What's your name?" I ask, and then hold out the chalk, so she can add it to the list on the board.
no subject
Clary Fray.
It wasn't technically her name but that was a long story and at this point she didn't know what name to use. She disliked Cassandra and technically had three different last names. Her parents hadn't made this easy.