#exomemories

꒰ Beas Stories of Carcosaean Culture! ꒱

The first topic was pretty easy to decide! I mean, it’s one of the topics that comes up the most when talking about Carcosa with friends! Of course I can’t go infinitely deep into detail, especially not with how much I’ve forgotten in the process of being introjected, but I can reserve that for later posts and for now just put down the basics aboutttt….

꒰ The Carcosaean Language! ꒱

Now, of course we need to start somewhere! You may be wondering:

“Bea, just how different is the language?”

And to that I’ll say, it can be plenty different! Naturally I can’t give an exact description or number of how different, but I can say that our language was fundamentally focused on one thing:

Feelings!

Feelings and Emotions played a big role in Carcosaean language and were a lot easier to talk about than the languages the system’s brain is familiar with here. That’s why we, in the Carcosaean layer, usually make some adjustments to the way we text when we front!

For example, sometimes we’ll double words to emphasize them! Comparatives and superlatives were absolutely not exclusive to adjectives, so maybe we’ll say we “wantwant” to do something or we “hopehope” that something will happen, or maybe that something is a “wastewaste”. Of course, sometimes we’ll maybe also describe an activity as “funfun”! A word being an adjective won’t stop it from being doubled or the like. And come on, the “more fun” terminology is boring and drags on!

Something else we had in that area was the ability to say a want was moving to action within one word. We usually signal that with a (+) now.

“I wanna(+) do that.” = “I want to do that so much that I am going to do it right now.”

Another thing is also that, when transferring Carcosaean sounds into this language’s alphabet, words related to certain emotions have certain endings!

What this means is that, for example, when writing down exclamations of frustration, they tend to end in the letter k. (Ksk / Sashk)

Writing out exclamations of joy or other words related to them produces words that end in the letter i. (Nii)

And lastly, exclamations of sadness tend to end in the letter u. (Du)

“But Beeeeaaa! I’ve seen other mentions of a Carcosaean language and it’s nothing like what you’re describing!”

Not my source, not my monkeys! That other language might also be Carcosaean, but not the one everyone in this system knows! And if you reaally believe that everyone has to have the exact same language, you’re gonna have to imagine me sticky-sticking my tongue out and blowing raspberries.

Despite its supermassive size, people don't end up on a ship like The Aurora by accident. Every crew member was hand selected. The exact criteria was never revealed (the whole thing was actually kind of a secret), but I can say what I've noticed.

I was given an application opportunity through my university while studying xenobiology. It was pitched like an internship: get hands-on training while finishing your degree. There was a small assembly shown to a handful of students and I. We had alleged potential. We were shown a PowerPoint that talked more about the world-class scientific equipment available on board than the actual mission. The details of that were kept nebulous on purpose. We were successfully dazzled. It seemed like a pretty good gig, even if it was completely unpaid. To my knowledge, most other crew members were not selected this way.

Anyway, the application process took several months. There was the initial paperwork, but we were monitored for a while thereafter and occasionally pulled aside to give the odd interview. I got really stressed out about keeping my GPA up during this time. It was right when I started thinking the whole thing was a bust when news broke that A) I got in & B) take off was in three weeks.

That begs the question: How the hell did I become maintenance personnel? So nothing is truly free. I didn't get paid by technicality, but I was an employee on paper. My spot on board was paid for by my hypothetical wages & an academic sponsorship that I wasn't 100% sure I qualified for. I was told about this from the jump and somehow thought it was a good idea to sign the contract. I really thought I'd get a good job out of this after graduation.

Even from the start, I could tell that most staff was seasoned. Some even knew each other from previous missions, and I felt like I was walking in on something. Despite being born on and living on a space station for most of my life, I was kind of treated like a toddler. But maybe I'll get into that later when talking about daily life.

I didn't spend my time in the lab conducting experiments for supposed liability reasons. A lot of the time, I was actually just sitting on my ass or doing some menial task the research team didn't want to bother with. There was a lot of playing delivery boy. I continued to work on my degree after hours through remote education. That felt more official than my pretend job playing gofer.

I was pretty pissed by this. I was stuck aboard a spacecraft surrounded by equipment I wasn't allowed to touch and scientists that only spoke to me to fetch coffee. My first few weeks into the voyage were plagued by corporate beaurocracy as I tried to get answers from administration. Lots of very circular calls and emails later, I got a nondescript apology and a promotion as chief to a department that didn't exist until the HR rep hit send. Consequently, I was the only member. The pay jump was laughable compared to other department heads, but it meant a few things: higher level security clearance and extra complimentary refreshments during monthly conferences. The good stuff. At least my debt for the trip would get paid off quicker with the raise.

Oh, yeah, around this time, I was told my original position wasn't enough to cover calculated expenses, and they would need to be reimbursed post graduation.

Anyway, I now had duties outside of the research wing. It still wasn't what I wanted, but I was no longer contractually obligated to pick up and deliver lunch orders (that actually got automated in my absence). The biggest downside was having to wear a stupid orange jumpsuit that kind of looked like a prison uniform. The irony wasn't lost on me. It was an exciting day if I got to sling around the repair tool.

A standard maintenance team did also exist, but the "non-essential" part of my title made things distinct, apparently. Regardless, we did work together at times.

To actually answer the initial question: I became N.E.S. maintenence chief because Alterra wanted the best of the best for bragging rights more than the genuine expansion of human knowledge. They needed the names on their reports to have meaning. My worth came from my university's shiny reputation. It was a big marketing stunt, amongst other things.

This makes us sound like a pretentious know-it-all with something to prove. We were a student that felt lied to.