Archie Kennedy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
simplestgift) wrote2012-02-18 08:04 pm
simplestgift) wrote2012-02-18 08:04 pm
Entry tags:
Twenty-Nine Bells: [Action/Voice/Written] FORWARD-DATED to the 19th and 20th
[Today, Archie is on the beach. He has a couple of homemade instruments with him that might look odd to someone who isn’t a sailor—a quadrant and a sextant. He also has a gigantic container, the type one might bring on picnics with lots of family, with some drink or another inside. Spread out on the dock is a tattered blanket, two large books lying open, and scattered forgotten foodstuffs and folded blankets. The one object which never leaves his hand is a watch.
Anyone with any sailing experience would see, when he’s using the tools, that he’s determining the sun’s altitude at varying times of the day, probably as a way to check his current latitude. He’s especially focused when the sun is at its zenith. He jots down observations and calculations in a small notebook.
Usually an experienced lieutenant wouldn’t sweat this much over a routine, but Kennedy always did this as little as he could even back home after moving from the midshipmen’s berth to the ward room, and hasn’t done it since coming to Luceti over a year ago. As the Britannia’s undisputed first lieutenant, however, he is suddenly worried he won’t be able to do this at all after so little practice. Therefore, he has to prove he can do this, as much as he hates it. Always he checks his watch, measuring the time throughout the day and night. This is why he brought so much coffee.
At around six in the evening, when he’s finished plotting his position upon the planet or given up on it, he’ll send out a spoken message.]
[To Elizabeth Swann; filtered 78%]
Elizabeth? The sun is about to set. Would you like to meet me at the docks?
[The next morning, he jots down his findings on the journal network. First is a set of numbers schoolkids and navigators could recognize as latitude and longitude. Then:]
A solar day here is the same length as one on Earth. On the other hand, our position doesn’t correspond with anything that would make sense on Earth. At least, not to my reckoning. I plotted it while standing on the beach, where there used to be a desert till it was flooded. Nevertheless, aren’t all planets possessing of different solar and lunar days? Why should this one correspond exactly with the one I’m from?
Have I done something wrong?
Besides assume the existence of Greenwich upon this planet, of course. Perhaps Luceti should be reckoned the prime meridian when we make further observations about the longitude of other locations?
[There is no way to determine whether or not the Barrier provides too much refraction of light for the measurements to be accurate, either--something he hasn't really considered, even though he's plenty aware of the phenomenon.]
[written]
It'd make far more sense than continuing to use a location that doesn't exist here.
[written]
I agree. It establishes a common point of reference.
[written]
[>.>]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]
Then:] I suppose it's true with any person.
[written]
[written]
Yes. Losing hope.
[Useless, really. Just repeating what was written before, but somehow those are the only words he can find.]
[written]
[written]
[He completely stops writing for a moment then pens on a new line.]
I don't much care whether we leave or not. Perhaps that is against what I ought to be thinking, but I don't. I don't have anything to go back to except a very disappointed family.
[written]
[He doesn't want to start talking of leaving not this world, but Luceti, over the journals.]
[written]
I apologise, Mister Kennedy. I shouldn't have started off on that. I beg your pardon. [Because it's not his place to talk about himself, to shares woes and worries uninvited. Especially not with a man who is actually doing something.]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]
[written]