.001 [Accidental Video...eventually]

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Voice]

--at ho? [sound of communicator falling down and shutting off.]



[Text]

e9oas0-50igf4eaw3l;k82=erwl;dkl;3r0;kxkop8954 0kdska0230-



[Video]


...blasted thing come with instructions.

[Lo! The whatsitsthingy is blinking! This might be a good sign. Or this might be like the half-dozen other times that he thought it was working when it actually wasn't. ...No...it really is working this time. In the background is a posh flat designed with hints of Art Deco in the architectural details.]

What ho, what ho!

I say, this is a dashed peculiar sort of ship, isn’t it? I mean, when I was approached by this Admiral chap I knew I’d be on some boat or another, but I rather expected it to be more of a sea-going affair, as is, I think, a natural conclusion to come to when the word “ship” is uttered. Instead, inside, I find a replica of my Berkeley Mansions flat, so perfectly perfect I half expect Jeeves to come biffing in through the kitchen door at any moment, and outside, I find all the starry universe.

Well, this is a rummy whatsits, it is. All the same, this Wooster shall not yield to brooding or despair. Oh no. Did the Wooster who fought at Agincourt look around that stormy and troubled hill and say, “Dash it all, this wasn’t on the cards,” and go home? Oh no. A Wooster always keeps his word, you know.

[He emphatically gestures with the hand that's holding the communicator at the end of his little speech, causing the picture to veer wildly around and ultimately drops it again. Barge-folk, enjoy a view of his ceiling.]

Dash it all, why can't the Admiral use sensible things that start with "tele," like telegrams and telephones to--

[And in picking it up he's accidentally turned it off again. It may be hours before he figures out how to turn it back on.]

Comments

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Bertie jumps to an also-wrong conclusion. He looks behind him briefly as if to verify where he is.]

It's a flat, actually.

[empirical_data]

[No, no this man is too derpy to be related to House.] My apologies. You share a resemblance with an individual named House that I was acquainted with. I thought there might be the remote chance you were related.

[At least this fellow probably won't be asking to see Data's penis in public threads when he got drunk.]

[what_ho_jeeves]

No, no Houses in this family tree. By marriage there are Travers and Gregsons, but not a House in sight, unless you count the ancestral manse of Lord Yaxley. [Oh, Bertie, trying to make puns.]

I assume that this House fellow was a handsome chap with iron will?

[empirical_data]

Your description... is not inaccurate. [He thought so, at least. Watch Data's slight confusion as he tries to follow the pun and sort of tilts his head like a dog. He gets it, but not why it's supposed to be funny.] Though you seem considerably more gentlemanly.

[what_ho_jeeves]

[Bertie's self-deception regarding his own character ("iron-willed") is just being reinforced.]

Was the other gentleman not? A gentleman, that is.

[He is trying to be polite and not comment on odd colouring, but he's not the best when it comes to holding his tongue.]

I say, you look a bit jaundiced. Are you all right, good fellow?

[empirical_data]

He was gentleman enough to be kind to me, though he frequently was crass and misbehaved to a dangerous extent.

[And he raises an eyebrow.] I am supposed to be this color. [The explanation. Here it comes.] My father constructed me to look this way. I am an android.

[You know what? Before the question of what an android is comes up, he's going to just pop off one of his skull plates to show the flashy lights and wiring underneath.]

[what_ho_jeeves]

I say!

...[This gentleman has his head wired for electricity!]

I say! Is that entirely safe?

[empirical_data]

It is for me. [He closes up his head again.]