Who still read books? Who: Dan, Lottie When: Around 2:45pm Where: Cyamites
Balancing a monstrous heap of french fries and ketchup from the buffet on top of a thick book from the library, Dan arrived at work late and waved his disgruntled coworker off with an apologetic look. Most people were still up at the Captain's little press conference, or off elsewhere stewing about it. Cyamites was practically deserted as a result, which was just fine with Dan, who wanted a little time alone with his book and metric ton of fries. Carefully, he set his encyclopedia down on the counter and looked at the cover with uncertainty. No one used encyclopedias anymore, as far as he knew. Not since Google was invented. But since the internet on the ship was limited at the moment, along with the compass, the transponsater thingies, the clocks, and the ship's collective sanity, he didn't have much choice. He brushed the dust off the golden “B” on the front cover and opened to the first page. The encyclopedia was apparently copyrighted 1991. That was when he was born.
Jeez, Dan thought, putting the plate of fries down next to the book and starting to eat three at a time. But the Bermuda Triangle had been around for centuries, hadn't it? It should be in the 18 year old encyclopedia. He knew a little about it of course, that generally weird shit went down when people got stuck in the Triangle, but he always figured it was all crap. He still did, actually, but the whispers and murmurs among the crowd as the captain spoke had piqued his curiosity. The situation was a little more serious than the captain let on, he suspected, but he didn't think they were spiraling in a flushed toilet that led to Hell or anything. At least not in this sense.
Dan flipped through the pages with his greasy fingers until he found what he was looking for, one and a half pages of teeny print on yellowed paper dedicated to the Bermuda Triangle. No wonder encyclopedias were obsolete now. Tiny-ass print on weird-smelling, yellowed paper that gave less than two pages of information. The map was interesting, though. According to the outlined triangle on the page, and what Dan remembered of the travel map the passengers were given, they had sailed well into the mythical hellhole. Eeeeeeenteresting.
Suddenly he sneezed all over his fries, sending a top layer flying to the floor in the front of the bar. Jesus Christ, it had been so long since he'd cracked open a book he must have developed an allergy. No one around seemed to notice, so he picked up the volume and shook it hard, to get as much of the dust and mold out from the pages as possible.
"Ow!" Papercut. Dan hastily tossed the encyclopedia onto the counter, the wind causing another landslide on French Fries Mountain, and stuck his injured finger in his mouth. It was only after he had inspected the tiny stinging cut for a minute when he realized he hadn't heard the book slam on the counter. Looking back, he saw that he'd tossed the book right into the ice maker. The ice maker that the previous shift had stupidly left open. The ice on top was melting, and the water was seeping into the pages of the volume . "Aw, monkey nuts on a motherfucking stick." This sort of crap didn't happen with computers. Dan started to fish the book out, not realizing a customer was waiting for him by the register.