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
Grabbing one of the pieces of chalk, Clint finds the place where Mark has already penciled in his name and starts filling out the rest of the blanks. West, road north of inn, blue/off-white - 9 months is added to the line, the shortest description that still gives the full picture he can think of. "I showed up mid-winter, so I don't know how you guys handled preparations for all of this last year. But if you need anything, ask me and I'll try and help."
no subject
"I've actually been thinking about welfare checks. Not all the time, but we had some pretty good snowfall a couple of times last winter. Days like that, when it's not so simple to walk down to the Inn for a hot meal or over to the store house for supplies, it might be good to have a few people on hand to knock on doors, make sure everybody has enough firewood, things like that." And what I know of Clint, he seems to me someone who would jump at the chance to volunteer for a task like that.
no subject
"I can do it sometimes." Clint pauses, studying the board for a moment, before stepping back a pace and closing his eyes. His fingers twitch a very little, almost like a dog or cat that's running in its sleep, still keeping a grip on that chalk. After a few moments, his eyes open again and he steps forward once more to a blank corner in the lower right and starts sketching. Loose impressions at first, just strokes of the chalk, but Mark will probably be able to tell it's a pretty accurate map of the village's road system quickly, such as it is. "I was thinking about making ice cleats - I can take the last of the nails I saved and punch them through some leather strips, tie them over my boots. We don't have a lot of nails, though, and they'd be pretty shoddy next to the real things." Still, better shoddy than nothing. "We should try and put up some sort of rope between buildings, too - if there's a storm, we don't want people trying to cross from one to another without a guideline. Too easy to freeze to death that way."
no subject
"There's got to be a way to make cleats or even just snow shoes without the nails," I add, my head tilting in thought. "Not that you'll necessarily need the nails for anything else until spring, but it would be nice to have enough to go around, give to other folks." I'm not an engineer for nothing, and something like that could be really useful to a lot of people.