The Blue Leviathan, Chapter 1
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
a soft eco reverberated throughout the dark metallic hallways, and it was a beeping noise coming from one of the far away rooms and the rumbling that sent many objects flying about the police. The shaking was soon put to a halt, and a cold robotic voice sounded across the house, seemingly from everywhere. Outside. Signals have been addicted, confirming exit from space time jump, moments of silence past, sending dark interior into silence once more. Before another message resounded. Exit confirmed activating building protocols. Shortly after the voice who emerged again the house little put a warm light coming from specifically designed lamps made to heat up the vicinity. The story of oxygen was made to run through the rooms once more and threw them up so that living conditions can be met in the far off corner of one such room let an old dried. Of course. It wore ragged clothing, no dope ones, which had lost their color after either years, which the owners spent inside. Here, it's bony fingers tightly held onto an old empty bottle, undoubtedly branded as alcohol. The brand's name was, however indecipherable and scratched off. The skeleton also had a necklace with a small golden pendant strapped to it. There was a pretty Jim embedded at the centre, an emerald of high quality, which shone the reflected light from the lamps. This person must have stayed in our support for many long, long years. From the looks of it. There was then a sudden outburst discrimination, which fled the room with lime light shining over this Clinton's body or above zero. Blue energy descended upon it. The bow entered the skeleton and a green circle began to form underneath it rooms and scrapped themselves on the floor and united each other with perfect lines. These lines and began to violently vibrate like strings of the piano, creating a software about it filled the room with a peaceful brilliance. In no time at all. The same limelight covered the frame of the skeleton and created a coating of sorts around him, stealing that for several minutes. When the light was gone, the ruins had vanished and what remained was something unimaginable. The clothing, which is hidden war before he had been returned to perfect condition, its skin and flesh had been renewed and returned to the lifeless body of a rugged looking young man. She had a dash look to him to have skin and pointy short nose. His hair was relatively long and ruffled auburn brown in color with bangs that reached just below his chin. The man then opened his eyes, he easily looking around the place as if to determine his location. They were golden in color, almost like pieces of gold carved into his sockets. Hello, Toto. Soft but confused speech. What? Where am I looking around? Nothing seemed familiar to him. Everything was foreign within the room of metallic walls and futuristic furniture. There was a bad mercy. Wanted that as there was a multitude of interesting items littering the floor beneath. Who am I? The man asks himself. He raised his hands to place atop his head due to a looming headache that began to surface, only to find the bottle in one of those hands. What is this? Where's my sword? He asked another question on expression of surprise, filling out on his face. Sword, Why am I looking for a sword? More and more questions flooded his mind. All is serving to increase the headaches. Potency has invaded him. It was almost as if a spear had pierced through his skull. The pain escalated and he heaved forward, nearly poking out his freshly regret innards. The sound of Coffin came from the young man. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and slowly stumbled upwards. The pain is somewhat subsiding, but still remaining. He looked at the bottle once more. It really wasn't a sword. But he kept wondering why that was his first thought. He threw the bottle to the side and shattered it. I need answers. His gaze was fueled a light, a desire for knowledge. He walked forth while barely keeping his balance, reaching the four end of the room he had been in. How do we get out? Who drilled off? Place your hand on to the metallic outline of what seemed to be a door. It opened. The man stumbled back at the sudden movement. He fell down and sat on the floor, looking up at the strange phenomenon. He don't ask himself questionably, and the door was always open like this. After he got up again, he walked through the exit of the room and into a long metallic hallway. It was entirely empty and went forwards. There were many other outlines that appeared to be the same as the ones in the previous room. They were doors. Was it not in a grass field until a moment ago, he vaguely remembered as he walked out. I swear I was fighting. Some may change. What is, Um, each? The man walked to the hallway, clinging to the side as he makes his way forward and into a large area. It vaguely looked like a dining how to him, but quite different. At the same time, the tables hovered over the area, along with seats that did the same. There were plates and some cutlery utensils, but no food was placed over them. It looks like a tavern hall, he thought to himself, making his way past the floating chairs and tables on the four end and far right. There were more hallways to pass to. He quietly followed the right one without much thought. You didn't need far only a few dozen steps past it, and an intersection appeared moving to the left on the right. There also seemed to be a large doors outland. However, demand didn't pay much attention to it and walk towards the left side which led him to another room of decent size, obeyed not as much as the dining one it first had ever ran, with two staircases leading down on both sides just after at the center of the rooms to the large circular table, with 12 seats on it. Beyond that table, there were many windows at the base of which two the rows of metallic structures that seem like some sort of furniture. There were many buttons placed on them and some levels of sorts. The windows shouldered our canvas filled with lights. They were shining brightly over what appeared to be the night sky. It mesmerized the man, and he went closer to have a better look. Outside is at nighttime. She asked himself yet another question. The headache still burning harshly over his sculpture. I don't see the ground, though. No matter how much she looked, the night sky was in all directions, from up to down to left to right. It was confusing to him, but he didn't know what more questions he could ask or who would even answer them. For him. Relaxing was detected. The robotic voice rang once more, frightening the man slightly. Who's there? He asked, looking around the area frantically in search of the voices. Origin activity protocols entering data files, bringing up urgent message to potential rescuers playing video surrender of items. Last notes. A screen popped up over the window panes. It showed the face of a man who looked identical to the one view individual. His expression was grim. 25th day brew age 7000, 989. They do. This is sarin, Live item speaking. I am the captain of the blue love item, and I fear that my crew and I may have faced a grim but certain reality. He trailed off, closing his eyes. He got out his thoughts. We found ourselves trapped in between space and time. Latinos, guardians shot and damaged our ship before we can make the jump. Bloody bastards and a lot of them. It's been two days, and so far we have been incapable exit in the space time jump. We may even will be structured forever. In which case I have decided to at least make a few little diary documenting this entire run. Why don't they? The video continued with soul and love it and explaining the situation, briefly talking about how long the ship's provision would last, how long the oxygen would hold and how long the ship's engine would last. The oxygen wouldn't be a problem. It seemed the carbon dioxide of the ship members breathed out could be recycled by the ship's systems and keep them breathing indefinitely. As for the engine, it will stop working even after a century or two had passed. So that was all well and good for the crew. However, as for the provision they didn't have much with how many were on the ship, a year would barely be what was classified as their limit. With that being the case, I at least want to make sure someone knows about our story. If anyone, however, even sees this recording sarin have doubt it might take years, decades or even centuries before someone views this. But when they do, they don't know something about all of us. The visual and ends abruptly. I was in the panel when opening a further for the numerous videos that each had their own dates. Some skip days and others were one after the other. What is this? The man whose name was apparently solid, Leviton mumbled beneath his nose. The reflection of the windows taught him that the man on the screen was indeed himself. Yet he had no recollection of any of this. His own face seemed like that was stranger. Why do I look like this? This the sarin of present times showed off. This is on my face. He looked over the screen. He could see the numerous other videos that he knew were playable. Oh, bait. He didn't know how he knew that. Is there more? Can you see more? He uttered, placing his farms atop the metallic machinery beneath the screens. Access granted, playing second video of starting the violence last notes, which is a three. And this is sorely, Biden speaking once more. The same man spoke up. He seemed and amused. The crew members are growing unruly. It's barely been a few days, and they're already panicking. I had thought to have trained them better than this individual went on for a short while before cutting off as a properly as before. It only serves to explain about the fear which the people on board were plagued with. The current sarin then asked for another video to be played. He watched several documentaries from his past self slowly running more and more about the situation. The food supply was thin. They only ate as little as they could in an effort to prolong their food source. After a time, agitation set into them and they started showing hostility to each other. The story of the videos explain how fights broke out. More and more. He didn't quell the infighting as best as he could, but he was only trying to stop the inevitable. On the 10th recording, a disaster had struck Day 24. One of our crew members has been murdered. Sauron paled. I never thought they'd start killing each other, but here we are. The corpse was shown in the photograph of the video. It was a man in his late thirties whose neck had been sliced during his sleep. The corporate had managed to cut the camera footage, whatever that meant and avoid detection. Fortunately, the Syrian Everton at that time quickly figured out by the 27th day and apparently killed the corporate himself. This did not face the currents run at all, almost like it was natural. More videos followed, and more months passed. The divide between the crew members continued to grow, and there was even a fight, which had two of them being in need of medical attention. Things were getting worse and worse, and there seemed to be no way to repair the ship. It was a hopeless situation. By the time a year and a half had passed, the food was running low and saw and recounted how Field died due to more nourishment. It didn't take long before the unthinkable happened. Day 476 1 of the crew members brought us me, cooked me. We all knew where it came from, but we gobbled it up anywhere, like wild animals. I'm ashamed to say it, but it was the best news I've had in weeks. Sarin recounted them, and horrific one. At that, the crew members resorted to cannibalizing their fallen comrades. Soon enough, they started killing each other until only sarin remained. There was a big gap after he stood as the sole survivor at day 512 the final video played out and showed a malnourished man on the screen. His auburn brown hair was all over the place pulled out on some ends forcefully. His face was covered in scars made from nail scratches. Not all the doing of his own. The light of his golden eyes had long since faded. He held no hope. He held no life within himself. This is serenely vital speaking. It is day number 564. I don't know that they can to survive eating my own crew as well. There is no doubt in my mind that I've lived the horrible life up until now. Up until this point, Sarin spoke with a hint of remorse. I started off as a rat crawling through the sewers of a dead waste planet. My father heard from nobility, but there was simply his ******* son. Of course, he threw me away in some junkyard. And of course I didn't find my way back to him and sliced his head clean. Oh, I did a lot of crazy stuff in my time. A criminal like me. She really does deserve such an end, huh, Soren? Soft softly on a camera, looking at it beautifully. I just wish I just wish I could right my wrongs and find my mother but it's too late now. After knowledge, I can't survive and this is the end, she trailed off. I'll go to my room and drink myself to death. Alcohol is the only thing that remains on the stinking power of junk. And so the video closed, leaving the current sarin with the perplexed look on his face.
Tags
Narrator, Pirate, Reporter, Robot, Bold, Deep, Low Pitched, Narrator, Slow Paced