entranceway | ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

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ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

[So, uh. This cooking thing.

But do you see that? The view's a little shaky at first, because he's still getting the hang of this technology thing, but there, for your viewing delight, Wonderland, is a microwave.

Well.

It used to be a microwave.

What it is now is more a column of smoke and melted plastic and burnt things, with the coppery shine of burnt tinfoil.

Oh, and the door's off to one side, and it shouldn't be twisted like that.

And yes, he actually read the instructions. And no, they didn't make a damn bit of sense.]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure that's not what it's supposed to do when it's done.

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[Ange sighs and looks around. It only takes her a moment to find a small fire extinguisher, which she turns on the whole mess. It wasn't exactly going up in flames, but at least it's not smoking anymore.]

If you don't know how to use something, shouldn't you stay away from it?

[Not remotely in the slightest.]

Well, that still tells me nothing of how the damned things work, does it.

Turn the knobs for the burners you want to get them to heat up.

::At least that covers the stove.::

[Well, he doesn't jump at the use of the fire extinguisher, so there's that in his favor. Though he makes a face at the - suggestion? insult? common sense? - all the same. Honestly.

And with it, he simply holds up the instruction manual.]

Read the how-to, did I not? And yet still told me naught of what to do if the thing exploded, did it. I've not seen a flash like that since...

[Since the sacking of the Interceptor.] The last ship me and me crew sank.

Captain. Barbossa. [He hasn't been a mister since his days as a navigator, and really, how long ago that is doesn't warrant thinking about.

Though he, understandably, is a bit less amused, as that was his dinner and...Well. It's inedible now, isn't it?] I suppose that will depend on your definition of assistance. At this point I'm sure I'd call it both unwise and p'raps suicidal to let me at these contraptions again.

[Think really hard about that Ed. Do you want him to really attempt that?]

Well, that's simple enough, ain't it. I don't suppose they could just come out and say as such, without the strange language, then.

[So he's a pirate after all. Ange tries not to make assumptions, but he definitely fits the stereotype.]

The stove would be less volatile.

[She sets the fire extinguisher aside and peers at the microwave. Nope, not salvageable. With a shrug, she moves to the cupboard where she found tea in the past and opens it up.

...Today it is full of canned vegetables. This place just does not want her to have tea, does it?]

::Probably not, but think of the potential columns of flames!::

I've noticed that instructions are often written under the assumption that whoever's reading them already knows what to do.

I suppose it would, were I aware of its proper use, either.

[Really, given the variety of people he himself has had the misfortune of meeting in this place, one would think people would be a bit more understanding at the technological gap.

Or not, apparently. It's taken him forever to get used to the running water in the bathroom, and he's still afraid he's using too much, and that the poor sod that surely must fill the pipes will cut him off or some such nonsense.

And then he'll have to kill whoever it is, alas.]

[While that would be amusing...]

Then why, if they assume as such, would one need instructions elseways. Honestly, the other wheres and whens must be a madhouse, full of people who either can't read or simply blow themselves up.

[The irony that he's just described Idiocracy is, of course, completely lost upon him.]

Once I find the tea, I'll show you.

[She checks two more cupboards before she finds a tin shoved in the back behind some spices. IT WILL DO.

Finding a kettle is easier, for some unfathomable reason, and she fills it with water and sets it on the stove top.]

Each burner has its own dial. [She indicates the knobs on the front of the stove, then turns the correct on up.]

Push it in and turn it to this spot to light it.

[It took her awhile to figure this bit out, honestly. Gas stoves are complicated when you grew up with servants making your tea for you, okay?

The flame lights, and she turns the knob to the left.]

The further you turn it, the hotter it will get. If you turn it all the way, the flame will go out.

[Easy, right?

No, not at all. She burned so much stuff in her first few days here.]

::Ed shrugs.:: Because people complain when there isn't something that gives them at least some idea what to do?

::It's lost on Ed too, because he's never heard of it either.::

What year are you from, just out of curiosity.

[ Lily dumps the popcorn into a bowl when it's finished before leaning against the counter.]

[Well it sounds easy enough, but if he sets something else on fire, she has no one to blame but herself.]

And while that's easy enough for someone used to such things [Or any cooking skills whatsoever that don't involve an open campfire.] those of us who aren't p'raps - just p'raps, mind you - might have a wee bit of a hard time getting the handle of it.

[Though he's not so ungentlemanly he can't give thanks, of course, where thanks is due. Even if it's a bit grudgingly, with a slightly mocking half-bow.] Either way, thankee, as it's more than I've gotten on the how and why of the water in this place.

[Captain. A captain's hardly a captain without his ship, now, isn't he? She won't fault him for lacking one. Wonderland does have certain restrictions on personal effects.

Evelyn moves further into the kitchen, pats his arm as she passes, and throws open the nearest window to let some of the smoke out.]

What would you like to eat, Captain?

[Considering his past situation with being cursed and all that came with it, he really shouldn't be picky about food. He knows that, but the fact is so much of the 'food' here doesn't look - or smell - right at all.

He shifts in his seat, as he has to think about the question a moment. Being dead a year has had the effect of throwing off time for him.] 1747. Or 48. One or the other. I can't actually be sure.

That makes absolutely no sense at all.

::Ed takes a moment to think over what he said, to see if he skipped steps. He does that sometimes.::

Basically, the people wanting directions on how to use whatever are the ones that don't know how to do it, but the people writing the directions assume that since they know how to do it, it should be obvious to everyone else.

I only learned to do this last week.

[She wouldn't admit that, but he has a feeling she hurt his pride a little. Or maybe she's trying to be encouraging? Like "it isn't that hard once you get the hang of it".]

But the dining room is supposed to provide food magically. [That might be better for him. Less carbon in his diet?]

So almost 240 years before mine. No wonder you're so confused. Let's start with the basics. Generally we store perishable foods in the refrigerator, meats, cheeses, eggs, milk, vegetables, anything that will go bad quickly otherwise.

[ Lily crosses the refrigerator and opens it, checking the contents herself. ]

[240 years. Honestly, it's not that funny, but he can't help but start to laugh, anyway. Of course it makes sense as to why he doesn't understand anything, from the way the water is to this nonsense. Of course it does.

And even still, the idea of storing, as she put it, perishables, is even more hilarious.]

It's clear you've never been aboard a ship. A real ship, if they even still exist in your when, given all of this. [He gestures around the kitchen for emphasis.] If ye need all that for such...Honestly, it all seems rather silly. Most of it keeps just fine for a time without all of that nonsense.

That is quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever heard.

And make no mistake, I have heard some very stupid things in me time.

::Ed rubs his forehead.::

I'm reaching the point where I don't even know what I'm saying anymore and should just go do something by myself. Possibly take a nap.

I suppose such would...Have that effect, then. Considering writing instructions, as it were, for those as already know as to use it seems a mite like biting one's nose off to spite one's face.

Maybe whoever's writing the things hate their jobs and wants to make whoever needs them hate their lives.

Edited (Stray puncuation.) 2013-07-04 02:21 (UTC)

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ship log 003 [video/action for the kitchen]

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