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crossing_lostrpIn his professional opinion, Megabyte thought that the shovels were coming along nicely. They weren’t going to be something that you could pick up in your local hardware store or do-it-yourself shop, but they would be serviceable. All it took was a considerable amount of patience, lots of energy, and a good deal of privacy.
He’d started the project on Day 7. Megabyte had been listening to Charlie rave about how half the island was filled with a lot of ‘bloody useless’ people, and wondering if he should comment on the pot calling the kettle the black, when he had a sudden inspiration of how to create those shovels that John and Emerson would need for the boar trap. Fish was good and all, but eventually people would get tired of seafood. Not to mention that the survivors needed to get a balanced diet.
Salvaging what was needed from the fuselage wasn’t (much of) a problem. Finding a way to work with the items in privacy proved to be a bit more problematic. Because the folding and bending and melting of the metal alloys from the plane were going to require a good deal of telekinetic and pyrokinetic skill, Megabyte couldn’t afford to do it any place where he might be caught out. He spent a good portion of the afternoon on day seven simply scouring the jungle near the camp for a good secluded spot, but that would provide him warning that someone was coming.
After that it was easy. He could slink away from camp and visit the fuselage and the ‘port to his spot in the jungle. The combined efforts of teleportation and his kinetic skill was tiring and that meant that when he did return to the camp (usually loaded up with fruit and vegetables that he would forage to use as his cover), he was dead tired and didn’t have to deal with Charlie’s rantings and grumblings … and snoring.
It also meant that he managed to avoid Claire. Not in the sense of running the other way when he saw her, but his special project meant that he didn’t spend as much time with the Aussie woman other than meals and the occasional conversation in passing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with Claire; he did, a bit too much and that bothered him. Not because of anything that Claire had done, but because he realized that his infatuation with her – which he’d been hard pressed to put into words and still had only admitted in his head, but not dared utter out loud – was not something that Claire needed to deal with right now.
She needed a friend, and he liked being her friend. He enjoyed her friendship, but he thought that he was skating dangerously close to doing or saying something that would screw that up. Therefore until he didn’t have to fear an Attack of Major Stupidity, he casually put as much distance between them as possible without making it seem like he was putting distance between them. Evidently it was working because when he talked to her at meals, Claire didn’t carry on like his behavior had changed at all.
Of course, the problem was that once the shovels were finished and Megabyte presented them to Locke and Emerson, he wouldn’t have an excuse to come out here and punish himself.
Looking down at the second finished shovel of three, Megabyte checked the fusing of the spade to the handle he’d created from a few pine trunks. It was seamless, and he only hoped that Emerson and Locke chalked it up to Megabyte’s weird powers and didn’t ask for an explanation of how they were made. He set it down and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. He didn’t dare nap out here, but damn he was drained.
A rustling caught his attention and he jerked his head up just in time to see the person entering the clearing blink in surprise as they registered Megabyte’s presence.
He’d started the project on Day 7. Megabyte had been listening to Charlie rave about how half the island was filled with a lot of ‘bloody useless’ people, and wondering if he should comment on the pot calling the kettle the black, when he had a sudden inspiration of how to create those shovels that John and Emerson would need for the boar trap. Fish was good and all, but eventually people would get tired of seafood. Not to mention that the survivors needed to get a balanced diet.
Salvaging what was needed from the fuselage wasn’t (much of) a problem. Finding a way to work with the items in privacy proved to be a bit more problematic. Because the folding and bending and melting of the metal alloys from the plane were going to require a good deal of telekinetic and pyrokinetic skill, Megabyte couldn’t afford to do it any place where he might be caught out. He spent a good portion of the afternoon on day seven simply scouring the jungle near the camp for a good secluded spot, but that would provide him warning that someone was coming.
After that it was easy. He could slink away from camp and visit the fuselage and the ‘port to his spot in the jungle. The combined efforts of teleportation and his kinetic skill was tiring and that meant that when he did return to the camp (usually loaded up with fruit and vegetables that he would forage to use as his cover), he was dead tired and didn’t have to deal with Charlie’s rantings and grumblings … and snoring.
It also meant that he managed to avoid Claire. Not in the sense of running the other way when he saw her, but his special project meant that he didn’t spend as much time with the Aussie woman other than meals and the occasional conversation in passing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with Claire; he did, a bit too much and that bothered him. Not because of anything that Claire had done, but because he realized that his infatuation with her – which he’d been hard pressed to put into words and still had only admitted in his head, but not dared utter out loud – was not something that Claire needed to deal with right now.
She needed a friend, and he liked being her friend. He enjoyed her friendship, but he thought that he was skating dangerously close to doing or saying something that would screw that up. Therefore until he didn’t have to fear an Attack of Major Stupidity, he casually put as much distance between them as possible without making it seem like he was putting distance between them. Evidently it was working because when he talked to her at meals, Claire didn’t carry on like his behavior had changed at all.
Of course, the problem was that once the shovels were finished and Megabyte presented them to Locke and Emerson, he wouldn’t have an excuse to come out here and punish himself.
Looking down at the second finished shovel of three, Megabyte checked the fusing of the spade to the handle he’d created from a few pine trunks. It was seamless, and he only hoped that Emerson and Locke chalked it up to Megabyte’s weird powers and didn’t ask for an explanation of how they were made. He set it down and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. He didn’t dare nap out here, but damn he was drained.
A rustling caught his attention and he jerked his head up just in time to see the person entering the clearing blink in surprise as they registered Megabyte’s presence.
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