[Michael] Escape Plan
Oct. 11th, 2006 08:40 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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crossing_lostrpWho: Michael, Sayid
Where: Beach Camp
When: Day 21, mid-afternoon
Invited: Open to anyone
Status: Complete [Closed]
After the "space vampires" attacked the beach – and Michael hadn't believed that story until he'd seen the bodies, and not even then, until he'd seen the dessicated husks of those they lost – Micheal decided that he'd had enough. He'd had enough of this island, enough of this beach, enough of sitting around and waiting on other people to get them rescued.
Other people who were off at some super technologically advanced bunker, and even with computers and whatnot at their disposal there was still no sign of rescue plans or boats.
"Are you certain that this plan is … a logical one, Michael?"
Michael looked up from dragging logs at Sayid's approach. An axe, one of several, had been located at the other bunker where the women were held, and had been delivered to the beach. It made chopping down large trees much faster and easier. "You got a better idea? Don't you want to get off this godforsaken island?"
Sayid considered Michael's words, casting his eyes briefly heavenward. "Well, just because we do not see or feel Allah does not mean He has forsaken us." Michael didn't have any idea how hard the look he gave the Iraqi man was, but it must have been pretty stern because Sayid continued hurriedly, "I am just not certain that building a raft is the wisest plan. We are hundreds of miles of civilization of any sort, an assumption made because otherwise we would have seen boats or planes by now. And if those who are well versed in . . . technology beyond the scope of our knowledge and experience . . . cannot get off this island, how will a raft help?"
"Maybe that's the problem," Michael stopped walking. He took a moment to wipe at his brow and look down the beach where Walt and Sue played with Vincent in the surf. "Maybe all that technology is what's keeping us here. Maybe the people who put us here, and as crazy as it sounds, I've heard the rumors too and I'm starting to think there might be something to them, yeah. But maybe . . .
"Maybe they expected us to see all the technology and think 'Oh shit, what can we do? I guess we're stuck here.' Or maybe they expected us to sit back and fiddle and fiddle and fiddle with all the technology like that weird ass big eared doctor and that asshole McKay are doing, so much so that we never look for the obvious.
"We didn't get here with fancy big technology. Our plane crashed. So maybe what we need to get out of here isn't big technology. We just need a boat. And I'm gonna build one. And then me and my son are getting the hell off this island."
Where: Beach Camp
When: Day 21, mid-afternoon
Invited: Open to anyone
Status: Complete [Closed]
After the "space vampires" attacked the beach – and Michael hadn't believed that story until he'd seen the bodies, and not even then, until he'd seen the dessicated husks of those they lost – Micheal decided that he'd had enough. He'd had enough of this island, enough of this beach, enough of sitting around and waiting on other people to get them rescued.
Other people who were off at some super technologically advanced bunker, and even with computers and whatnot at their disposal there was still no sign of rescue plans or boats.
"Are you certain that this plan is … a logical one, Michael?"
Michael looked up from dragging logs at Sayid's approach. An axe, one of several, had been located at the other bunker where the women were held, and had been delivered to the beach. It made chopping down large trees much faster and easier. "You got a better idea? Don't you want to get off this godforsaken island?"
Sayid considered Michael's words, casting his eyes briefly heavenward. "Well, just because we do not see or feel Allah does not mean He has forsaken us." Michael didn't have any idea how hard the look he gave the Iraqi man was, but it must have been pretty stern because Sayid continued hurriedly, "I am just not certain that building a raft is the wisest plan. We are hundreds of miles of civilization of any sort, an assumption made because otherwise we would have seen boats or planes by now. And if those who are well versed in . . . technology beyond the scope of our knowledge and experience . . . cannot get off this island, how will a raft help?"
"Maybe that's the problem," Michael stopped walking. He took a moment to wipe at his brow and look down the beach where Walt and Sue played with Vincent in the surf. "Maybe all that technology is what's keeping us here. Maybe the people who put us here, and as crazy as it sounds, I've heard the rumors too and I'm starting to think there might be something to them, yeah. But maybe . . .
"Maybe they expected us to see all the technology and think 'Oh shit, what can we do? I guess we're stuck here.' Or maybe they expected us to sit back and fiddle and fiddle and fiddle with all the technology like that weird ass big eared doctor and that asshole McKay are doing, so much so that we never look for the obvious.
"We didn't get here with fancy big technology. Our plane crashed. So maybe what we need to get out of here isn't big technology. We just need a boat. And I'm gonna build one. And then me and my son are getting the hell off this island."
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