keepsmehonest | 1st Tune

So, I've got to say, I feel a little silly doing this. Talking to a notebook isn't exactly commonplace where I come from. I've been told I can write into it too, but that almost makes it feel a little too personal. Like I'm writing in a journal instead of... broadcasting on the radio or making a phone call to group of people. I'm not exactly much of a writer, either. That'd be my brother, Christy.

[He laughs a little awkwardly before pausing. Yeah, he feels more than a little ridiculous talking to a book. It's part of the reason he's waited so long before addressing Luceti. Aside from taking the time to settle into the extra room in Jilly's studio. And searching the store for his fiddle.]

I'm Geordie Riddell. From Newford. New York. That's in North America. On Earth. [Then, muttered under his breath:] ...I can't believe I'm saying this. [He clears his throat and continues in a louder voice.] Uh, 1979.

I just arrived here a few days ago, but apparently my best friend has been here a lot longer. Some of you may know her. Jilly Coppercorn? Terminally cheerful artist that almost always has some paint stains on her person?

She's the one who suggested I use this... whatever it is... to try and locate my fiddle. It's an old Czech fiddle, manufactured around the turn of the century. Worn but well taken care of, recently restrung, and the initials G.R. are on the left part of the lower bout. The last time I saw it, it was in its case - scruffy, black with a picture of a blonde Victorian woman in her mid-twenties and a list of Irish drinking tunes inside.

They're very important to me - fiddle and case both - so if you've seen anything fitting the description, let me know?

Thanks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Probably. But there was no harm done, promise. My ego will survive.

If it's any consolation, you're welcome to crash on our couch from here on in at any time. And I'll make sure that Jack wears more pants.

It's appreciated. Especially that last part. But Jilly's letting me crash in her studio for now. I've got a bed to sleep on and a roof over my head. It's all I really need to get by.

Good. You're fortunate, I guess. Having a friendly space all ready for you. Most people start off with empty apartments.

Even an empty apartment is more than what a lot of people have when they start someplace new.

[He remembers. His situation was never as bad as Jilly's, but he did spend some time on the streets. He knows how hard it can be.]

Dragging a bed in there was nothing in comparison to knowing that.

[ she...does remember jilly's story, yes. yes indeed. ]

I wouldn't know. I'm kinda like you -- I showed up in this place with a familiar face nearby. It's harder, I think, to arrive with no one.

Who was it for you?

[ a dry laugh. ] At first? An ex-boyfriend. Closely followed by an ex-enemy. And then another ex-boyfriend. And then the first ex-lover's son. There were a whole crowd of them in this place when I arrived.

Damn. You sure that made things easier?

...Weirdly? Yeah. Except for the son part. That was just...wrong.

They kidnap children, too?

He was, like, nineteen. But yeah. They do.

Oh. [Well. Jilly had mentioned something about different times. And it's not all that strange for someone to date a person at least twice their age. Who is he to judge?

It's that last part that's of more concern.] That doesn't seem right.

...Sorry to say it, but not much about here is ever right.

Jilly mentioned the drafts.

They ain't pretty. But most of us manage to survive them. I'm talking, like, 98% survival rates. That's kinda unheard of in any other war I've ever known.

Definitely not Vietnam.

[Even if drafts sound uncomfortably familiar.]

...That's right. I sometimes forget that you and Jilly are from the groovy age.

And you're twenty years from our future. She mentioned that.

As near to 2005 as makes no difference. Plus the three years I've been here.

She also mentioned that you've been here for a while. But not three years.

And four months. It's...been an adventure.

I bet.

[A pause.] But hey, you don't seem to be alone.

What? You mean my walking social-faux-pas of a boyfriend...?

He was looking out for Jilly.

[And for that, Geordie just can't hold a grudge.]

[ voice ]

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