Reality Shift
"I can't believe you ended up as the captain," muttered Isaac, sulking from his chair at Vince's right.
"Hey, it makes sense to me. You're the one who marked me as the session leader. Besides, I'm going to make a great captain. For great justice!"
"You're an idiot," said Isaac, cradling his head in his hands.
"Somebody set up us the bomb! Main screen turn on!"
"Y'know, for someone complaining about my tastes in historic trends, you're really not helping your case by quoting the 'All Your Base Are Belong to Us' script..."
"Oh, whatever," said Vince, rolling his eyes. "Some things never get old. Besides, it's a classic piece of Internet Lore. Memes are like that are classic pieces of culture, like Chaucer for Middle English."
"Did you seriously just compare the Canterbury Tales to Lolcats?"
"Oh, look, a distress signal," said Vince, changing the topic. "You're the one working all of the sensors and stuff. What does it say?"
“It doesn’t say anything,” said Isaac, with a shrug. “But the signal is being transmitted in rhythmic bursts that align with Morse Code. See for yourself.”
Vince walked over to Isaac's chair to get a better view of the screen, which automatically translated the feed into a short, repeating message: O.S.O. O.S.O. O.S.O.
“Do they even understand English? Who manages to screw up an S.O.S. call? It's obviously a trap set by aliens.”
“Do you know how to write in Morse Code?” asked Isaac, raising an eyebrow.
“I…point taken,” admitted Vince. "So, either it's a sincere, if not stupid, distress signal, or it's a trap made to look like a distress signal by aliens who don't actually know Morse Code. What do you think, Isaac?"
"I think I suck at vehicle combat," said Isaac. "Let's just beam aboard the ship and deal with what happens."
"I like the way you think," said Vince, grinning broadly.
"Hey, it makes sense to me. You're the one who marked me as the session leader. Besides, I'm going to make a great captain. For great justice!"
"You're an idiot," said Isaac, cradling his head in his hands.
"Somebody set up us the bomb! Main screen turn on!"
"Y'know, for someone complaining about my tastes in historic trends, you're really not helping your case by quoting the 'All Your Base Are Belong to Us' script..."
"Oh, whatever," said Vince, rolling his eyes. "Some things never get old. Besides, it's a classic piece of Internet Lore. Memes are like that are classic pieces of culture, like Chaucer for Middle English."
"Did you seriously just compare the Canterbury Tales to Lolcats?"
"Oh, look, a distress signal," said Vince, changing the topic. "You're the one working all of the sensors and stuff. What does it say?"
“It doesn’t say anything,” said Isaac, with a shrug. “But the signal is being transmitted in rhythmic bursts that align with Morse Code. See for yourself.”
Vince walked over to Isaac's chair to get a better view of the screen, which automatically translated the feed into a short, repeating message: O.S.O. O.S.O. O.S.O.
“Do they even understand English? Who manages to screw up an S.O.S. call? It's obviously a trap set by aliens.”
“Do you know how to write in Morse Code?” asked Isaac, raising an eyebrow.
“I…point taken,” admitted Vince. "So, either it's a sincere, if not stupid, distress signal, or it's a trap made to look like a distress signal by aliens who don't actually know Morse Code. What do you think, Isaac?"
"I think I suck at vehicle combat," said Isaac. "Let's just beam aboard the ship and deal with what happens."
"I like the way you think," said Vince, grinning broadly.