Mark Watney (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
markwatney) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
It seems to me the more logical course to stay near other people in a place like this, but there's no predicting population growth or shrinkage in this place, and some people are just dogged loners.
no subject
Being so isolated would be freeing, to be sure, but he would also feel more than a little unsettled by it all.
"I'm sure once the weather thaws again, people will feel bold enough to explore once more," he replies. "For now, it seems much safer to stay close." Benedict remembers how harsh last year's winter had been, and he doesn't relish the idea of having to dig himself out of the snow again.